#i’d be so easy to win over with delicious food i fear…

[ddarker-dreams]

chrollo feeds you chocolate covered strawberries because he finds it romantic (so long as he ignores how you’re trying to ‘accidentally’ bite his fingers)

[woman-of-culture]

The traitor (1/2)

Dabi x reader

Part 2

Warnings: Dabis identity, 3rd year age up, this does not accurately follow the plot when it comes to timing and character introduction, (most likely) a lot of grammatical errors

This is gonna be a 2 part story with the smut in the 2nd part! (Not to mention it’s gonna be much longer)

The semester is finally over! No more assignments and no more work so I present to you my first ever fanfiction. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words: 3,056

The League of villains might not have the best plans. Sometimes, they're poorly thought out, other times... Again, not all that effective.

From their poor managing skills to the attack on USJ where they consequentially lost the perfect nomu, their planning could use ‘some’ work. The leader, Shigaraki, being quite immature for his position, executed his plans prematurely and without much thought - oftentimes underestimating his opponents (even if they were just high school first years). Saying he has a ways to go from being the perfect leader would be an understatement.

But no matter how much you complain, you can’t ignore the fact that he’s also a valiant leader who fights for what he thinks is right, even if he does need some help along the way. That’s where you come in, being Shigarakis right hand (wo)man, alongside Kurogiri, wasn’t an easy job. Having to deal with his temper tantrums, being forced to execute a plan you didn’t 100% agree with and having your advice ignored completely most of the time wasn’t exactly what you thought joining The League of Villains would be like, but eh, nothing ever goes the way you want it to.

Which is exactly what led to this situation.

"So let me get this straight..." You say, whilst letting out an exasperated sigh "You want to kidnap and persuade, of all people, Bakugou Katsuki to turn on his dream of becoming a hero just because you've seen him compete in the sports festival?"

Not really getting your point, Shigaraki just nods with an assertive "Yes"

"No" You turn your back on him, disappointed he would even suggest this thought.

Narrowing his eyes, as if to challenge any further refusal on your part, he demands to know why you so vehemently refuse the suggestion of your next big mission.

Not at all wavering with your determination, you look him in the eyes, practically begging for him to understand how fruitless this endeavor would be.

"He might act...villainous when facing certain confrontation but he is solely focused on becoming the number one pro hero one day, it would take a hell of a lot more than just kidnapping and talking for him to turn his back on that dream. He’s determined, passionate and has a real fighting spirit. I believe if you really want him to join you need to break his spirit in some way, target him when he’s at his lowest"

Contemplating your words for merely a second he decided against listening to reason on the ground ‘It’s the perfect next move for the League to cause distrust among society, even if he refuses there will be chaos from the fact that we managed to capture a UA student whilst on a training camp.’”

Seeing no point in arguing further, you declare that you will have no part in this plan since:

1) You truly believe this will end up a failure

2) You are a student participating in the training camp and your involvement would be too risky

"Goddamn it, I knew I shouldn't have told you where the training camp will be held..." You mutter under your breath, as you look to Kurogiri, who has been silent during that whole argument, to open a portal to your apartment.

Exhausted and in need of some food, you trudge your way up to the small apartment you've called home ever since AFO took you in 4 years ago.

It was a small one bedroom apartment fit for one person, certainly better than the streets you've come to know so well during your years of desperation and homelessness.

A sigh of relief escaping once you managed to close your door and take off your shoes.

"Good evening doll."

"Good evening burnt rat, who I specifically warned not to come here anymore."

He winced, as if the comment actually hurt his feelings. "Ouch, why the sour attitude sweetheart?" Walking up to the couch, glaring at your ‘guest’ who had decided to make himself at home despite your warnings of dumping his body in the nearest ditch.

“You tell me Dabi, why in the world would you continue coming here after all my threats and the fact UA is 5 minutes from here?” “Isn’t it obvious? Despite your constant nagging, you never kick me out, you have a pretty fucking nice TV and not to mention you’re a decent cook.”

Ah, Dabi...one of the newest members of the League who joined not even 2 weeks ago. He’s a peculiar guy who comes to raid your fridge and annoy the shit out of you every other day, refusing to leave until the next morning to go God knows where. When it comes to the topic of kicking him out...you never seem to find the will to do so, whether it be the crippling loneliness forcing you to get some form of social interaction or the fact you find his company kinda enjoyable. Of course, you wouldn’t admit either to anyone even if it costs you your life.

You look at his form lounging on the couch in his pants and pale gray, scoop-neck shirt. “So, I’m guessing you ate my dinner again...?” You picked up his dark blue jacket that was lazily tossed onto the back of the sofa and made your way to the front door in order to hang it, just then noticing the dark dress shoes placed haphazardly next to the shoe rack.

With a sly wink sent your way he confirms he ate the tempura you prepared that afternoon. “But you know what? Could you be a sweetheart and make some more food? It was just so delicious but unfortunately not all that filling.” He asked, hoping flattery will get him some more food.

Looking into the fridge you could physically feel a headache coming when you confirm no tempura in sight. You would feel more frustrated if a brilliant idea didn’t come up that second. “Listen Dabi, let’s make a deal.” You turn the corner, ready to give him an ultimatum. “Oh? Where is this going? In exchange for some of your cooking I’d eat something else out first?” He tries to guess, suggestively lifting one eyebrow whilst crossing his arms at the back of his head.

Stopping in your tracks, you look at him speechless, the blood rushing to your cheeks undeniably creating a faint pink blush.”W-what!? No, you asshole! T-tomorrow are final exams so I wanted to suggest you spar with me and after I’d cook anything you want.” In what little time you knew Dabi, that was the first suggestive comment he has made towards you, breaking your thoughts for a hot second - enough to make you stutter during your protest.

Looking proud with the pink he managed to conjure on your cheeks, he closed his eyes with a smirk on his mismatched, pale-burnt lips. “Don’t know ‘bout that doll, sounds like too much work and I’ve had a long day.” He groans to emphasize his point.

“Ok then, starve”

...

“Well, actually-...”

--------------------------------------------------

The next day, during the practical exam, you ended up with Jirou against Present Mic (I’m sorry Koji but plot) which you managed to win with ease considering Dabi helped you strategize. Not to mention he gave you tips on how to improve your quirk which you implemented in the battle only to end up victorious. You’d probably need to thank him later.

Whilst reminiscing on the event, Aizawa enters into the classroom informing that no one will be left out of the training camp, but the ones who failed will receive harsher training. He gave out lodge guides and all the information needed (which you of course knew thanks to sneaking into the teachers lounge after hours) Everyone also decided to go on a shopping trip to buy the necessary things for the trip, with the exceptions of you, Bakugou and Todoroki.

Worrying about the events that will transpire did you no good so you contently walked home thinking of going to the store for some ingredients in case a certain uninvited guest decided to show up again.

Thinking about what will inevitably happen reminded you of the fact you haven’t visited the bar since your little disagreement with Shigaraki. ‘I guess I can’t blame him, even if Bakugou doesn’t join it will still provoke some fear and distrust among the general public, I guess I should apologize to him...’

-------------------------------------------------- 

“TOMURA!” The bar rattles with the impact of the door against the wall, barely keeping itself on it’s hinges after the kind of force you used. The people inside the bar looking at you with mixed emotions, some shocked, some indifferent and some enjoying the drama. Spinner, Toga, Dabi, Magne and Kurogiri silently looking at you for answers to their unanswered questions while Shigaraki looks at you completely shocked for he has not yet seen such an outburst from you.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be your plan? How careless can you be? In order for a stunt like this to succeed you’d need to be extra careful and methodical. Yet, what do you do? You confront Midoriya at the mall as if it wouldn’t have consequences”

“Oh, that’s all?” He returns to his planning as if you didn’t almost break down the door.

“What do you mean ‘that’s all’? Do you understand how irresponsible that was, you could have gotten caught! The whole mall was swarming with police officers literally 5 minutes after your little ‘chat’.”

“They wouldn’t have caught me even if they showed up that instant, if you used your brain you would remember that Kurogiri could just teleport me out.” Scratching his neck, clearly done with this conversation, he turned to walk away to get some quiet to finalize the plan in peace.

“You don’t get it do you? Aizawa announced the camp will not be held in the forest lodge it’s usually held every year because of this ‘incident’.” You explain taking a step to his form that stopped walking the moment those words left your lips. He turned, the scratching getting more violent by the second. “Well, where is it then?”

You don’t want to admit it but the way he looked at you, as if it was your fault the camp relocated, sent a chill down your spine. “I don’t know, the new location won’t be revealed until we get there.”

“Then you’ll send your location the moment you get there, is that so hard?” You felt your anger and frustration bubble the moment he dismissed the problem as if it were nothing, however you continued your calm-ish facade. “Tomura, I’m begging you to understand! With this there are a lot more unknown variables. You won’t have time to prepare, to get to know the layout, the schedule, anything! You’ll be going in there blind, this is definitely not a safe plan for the members. What if some of them get caught? What if-...”

You weren’t even able to finish the rest of your concern before he yelled out for you to shut up, that it was none of your concern since you weren’t apart of this mission. “We will simply have Dabi burn down half of the woods so they won’t know what’s going on, the rest only concerns the participants of this plan which, again, you are NOT, now LEAVE!”

You looked Tomura in the eyes, tears welling up in yours due to the sheer frustration of the situation. Did your opinion really mean so little to the man? You wanted nothing more than the success of the League, to fulfill your debt to AFO for saving you so many years ago. Sometimes staying up past 3 AM helping with whatever you could just because you felt as if the League really needed you. Were you really so useless to the man before you, who you would consider a dear friend, family? He ignored your advice, existence even, except when he needed insider information. You were quiet most of the time, rarely giving resistance to the point your bottled up feeling reached their limits. You lifted your head, a single tear making its way down your face as you uttered your next words.

“I will send you the location, I will figure out the schedule, I will inform you on everyone's position during the attack but just know this Tomura, your carelessness will shoot you down from that pedestal you made for yourself. You’re childish, immature, naive and juvenile. If you continue thinking you can do all of this alone it’s gonna cost you your life, the members lives, masters life-...”

That was the trigger...the last straw that finally diminished his last nerve. Lunging at you with all five fingers ready to disintegrate your arm as a form of cruel punishment. It was like slow motion, not really thinking of this outcome proved to be your downfall as you could only watch his hand getting closer.

20 centimeters...

10 centimeters...

5....

Oh fuck...

As if God heard your prayers, an arm found it’s way around your waist, pulling you to a lean, muscular chest while the other grabbed Shigarakis, pulling it away from your form and pressing his hand, that was moments away from your trembling arm, onto the counter, decaying a part of the wood until there was nothing but dust left.

The shock of the situation being felt all around the room. You didn’t fully process the severity of the event until Dabi let out a low growl, ready to use his quirk if need be. Looking up his face, situated not even 5 cm away from your own, you saw the burning fire behind his glare directed at Shigaraki, a threat, daring him to move a single finger in your direction.

In any other situation you’d pull his arm off, threatening to cut it off. However, this wasn’t any other situation. His warmth providing a sense of security you’ve never felt before, making you wish it could stay there just a minute longer. His natural musk invading your senses, calming your pounding heart to the point you almost forgot the predicament you got yourself into.

All too soon, he let go of you only to pull you behind his back with his arm stretched to the side, blocking the view of your leader with his back. Relieved, angry, confused, terrified... You couldn’t exactly categorize your feelings, the information not fully processed in your mind. You grabbed onto the back of his jacket as a means to get closer to him, scrunching it between your fingers to keep him where he is.

Whilst this was going on, Shigaraki looked at his hand, eyes wide open. For a few seconds he couldn’t fathom what he just tried to do. He looked at your form, cowering behind Dabi who only glared daggers at him silently questioning his actions.

“Out.” was the only word able to come out of his throat, not knowing how to deal with the consequences of the previous moment.

Not needing to be told twice, you ran out of the bar as fast as your legs could take you. Stumbling on your own feet, chest heaving and vision blurry you didn’t notice the set of footsteps following behind you until a hand reached out stopping you in your tracks. You panicked, kicking at your assailant in an attempt to get free.

“Calm down, would ya? It’s only me...” Turning around, to face what you had correctly presumed to be Dabi, you lunged out of his grasp narrowly missing the wall behind you.

“Why did you do that?”  “What do you mean why?” He looked at you, not understanding the point of the question. “I mean... Why did you jump in to defend me? This was between me and him. Don’t get me wrong I more than appreciate your help but why... You ran the risk of a fight, not to mention injury, just because i provoked him.” You said, your gaze following the trail of his body further down till you reached his black shoes.

He scoffed, as if you just uttered the stupidest sentence he has ever heard. “Provoked? What you did in there proved you have some serious balls. You pointed out the flaws in the plan and confronted hand-job about them. You prioritized every ones safety over some mission and even put yourself at risk by ultimately agreeing to the plan and sending vital information that will be used.” He took a step forward, lifting your head between his index and thumb caressing your cheek along the way to hopefully calm you some more if his words didn’t help.

“That being said, you should still have some faith in us, well, in me specifically.” He smirked noticing the corner of your lips twitch up at his comment. “I’ll burn down every obstacle, every hero that comes in my way so you won’t have to worry so much.” Finally, pressing his forehead to your own he managed to fully calm your nerves, unintentionally, you also synced up your breathing to match his.

You looked at his beautiful teal colored eyes unable to focus on any of your surroundings ‘Were his eyes always so mesmerizing?’ You felt your eyelids droop almost closing them by the time he took your hand in his and started to lead you down the road. “H-huh? Wait, where are we going?” “We’re going to your apartment to eat something and sleep, perhaps watch a movie to forget today.”

You look at the man in front of you, his coat waving with the wind to make the moment just that much more special. Has he always been like this? He actually made the effort to defend you, to run after you when you thought nobody cared. He assured you that what you did was the right thing and plans to make you forget what happened today. Did you finally have someone that cared for you?

“Yeah, sounds good”

(A/N This was my first ever attempt at writing so I hope I didn’t flunk it TOO bad. And I’m not all that satisfied with this but eh... I feel bad for having to cut it short, but I actually got requests to do more stories and I’m bad at multitasking so I’m terribly sorry for the precious users that sent me requests and the readers that want a part 2, maybe)

[howtosingit]

Fic: Collect Me With Your Steady Hand

TK processes his dad’s diagnosis, and Carlos makes tamales.

*

A post-1x04 fic, based on that 1x05 promo pic from the cut Tarlos dinner scene.

2.7K | Also on AO3

——————

He can tell every time that it happens.

It’s like that feeling when your ears sink just below the surface of the water, but not every part of you is fully immersed. Maybe you’re floating on your back, or on your stomach; maybe you went under just to the top of your ears. It doesn’t really matter how, just that your ears are under but all of you might not be. The sound fades out into this eerie diluted thrum, but you can feel the air above the water on your exposed body. You’re simultaneously a part of both places, under and above, and you can’t belong fully to either one.

It’s the in-between, and that’s the place where he feels most alone.

Back in New York, he used to spend a lot of time in the in-between, especially when he was riding a high. He’s had a lot of experience there, and it’s almost a betrayal that he doesn’t feel more comfortable in that place after all of these years.

When he left the city, he hoped to leave the in-between behind. Those last days, when he’d sunk so far under the water that all he could see and hear was the darkness, are hard to forget. Starting over, here in Texas, was a way to escape that part of himself. It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been without faults, but he was doing better. He was staying above the surface.

And then he finds his dad’s meds. And then his dad confirms what he already knows. And then he holds his dad tight and puts on a brave face and tells him that he’ll be there for him and that he knows that he is strong enough to beat this.

He believes that, he really does. But at the same time, TK can’t stop himself from imagining the alternative. It hits him repeatedly throughout the day, the idea of a reality without his biggest supporter, his best friend. The only person that he has left in this world. In those moments, he can feel himself falling under the surface, not fully submerged, but not fully present either.

Unlike the times before, it’s not a drug that will carry him further down before it wears off. This time, he’s held down by a weight that he can’t shake off, a premature grief that he can’t process because there hasn’t actually been a loss to grieve.

The idea of it is so much heavier.

So, he knows what’s happening right now, he can tell every time that it happens. He’s sitting at the table, the candles to his right flickering faintly on the edge of his vision. A plate sits in front of him, filled with some of the most delicious looking food he’s ever been served, but he can’t eat it. He knows it won’t have any taste, just like it doesn’t really have a smell. Just like he can’t really see the candle flame, and he can’t really hear the man moving around in the kitchen behind him, speaking without pausing for breath.

When Carlos had texted him that morning after returning from his weekend trip, TK immediately texted back, asking to meet up. His therapist has repeatedly made it clear that he needs to surround himself with people who can be there for him when things get hard, and Carlos is the closest thing that he has to a friend in Texas. Besides, with his dad relying on him for support, TK has to stay on the right track now more than ever. So, without thinking too much about it, he takes a chance and asks Carlos out.

He can tell, even through text, that this surprises the officer.

You want to have dinner with me?

Yeah, I missed you this weekend. I’d like to see you.

Okay, yeah. I’d like that too.

Where should we go? I’m relying on you to introduce me to Austin’s best.

I know some places.

But

This doesn’t have to mean anything

But I’d really like to cook for you

I like to cook and I don’t get to do it for other people very often

Would that be okay?

It’s fine if not, I’ll just pick a place.

The texts had come in so fast, TK hadn’t been able to respond. He had found Carlos’s anxious spiral to be a relief, as the man usually presented himself with so much confidence — a requirement for a police office, sure, but still unnerving. It’s that, more than anything else, that inspires TK to agree.

But now, sitting in Carlos’s apartment, staring down at the tamales on his plate, he just feels so disconnected from everything around him. He tries hard to grasp onto something, anything, but the false reality of his dad’s death keeps him from holding firm to anything real around him.

“TK?”

Lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice Carlos approaching him until there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder. It throws him, full-force, back into the moment, and he looks up to find Carlos standing next to him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

TK doesn’t respond, just continues to stare up at him, trying to make sense of where exactly he is and what he’s doing here. He can’t help thinking that he probably shouldn’t be.

“Something wrong with the tamales?” Carlos tries again, glancing down at the plate that TK has barely touched. TK looks down at it too, but he’s still not processing anything in a way that makes any sense. With a deep breath, he leans forward onto the table, crossing his arms in front of him and clenching his fingers around them, trying to ground himself. He feels Carlos’s hand fall from his shoulder, and immediately misses the weight.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Carlos says, obviously trying to fill the heavy silence. “Look, I know you didn’t want to do this, and I hope you didn’t feel pressured into anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

TK hears a shuffle and glances over, seeing that Carlos has shifted to sit at the head of the table, resting his arm on the surface and propping his head against his closed fist as he leans in TK’s direction. The action pulls his shirt sleeve tight around his bicep, and TK is distracted as his eyes travel over the man in front of him.

“TK, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Carlos hedges, his body shifting slightly with discomfort under TK’s scrutiny. “I want us to be able to talk, TK. Talk to me.”

TK’s gaze shifts to Carlos’s face, pulled in by his bright brown eyes. They’re wide open and earnest. The sight causes TK’s breath to catch in his throat, just like it did when they sat like this at the police station less than two weeks ago. He’s still not used to people looking at him with so much open emotion; New Yorkers are notorious for being closed-off and guarded. He’s never met someone who wears their heart on their sleeve the way that Carlos does; it’s weird, but he finds it comforting. It makes him want to try too, to be more open like Carlos.

He holds Carlos’s gaze and, with a deep breath, speaks for the first time in what might be hours or days or weeks, but is probably just mere minutes. “My dad has cancer.”

Carlos’s eyes flicker in shock for just a brief moment, but he doesn’t look away. His hand drops down to the table, landing next to TK’s elbow. TK can feel the warmth, even though they aren’t touching. There’s a shift in the energy of the room, but Carlos is as steady as always, and TK can’t hold back any longer.

“He was diagnosed in New York. He didn’t tell me. I found out yesterday.” The words come out choppy and disjointed, monotonous and somewhat clinical. “He didn’t think I could handle it. He told me that wasn’t it, but I know it was. He was right, too. I can’t handle it. I keep fading out, losing myself. Thinking about him not being here with me. I. . . I. . .”

His words catch in his throat. His eyes scan Carlos’s face, trying to cling to something, but for the first time, he can’t tell what the other man is thinking. TK’s eyes widen, the fear of losing control right now sending him into a panic, but before he can go too far, he feels Carlos’s hand make contact with his skin. The touch opens his throat wide as a shaky gasp falls from him. “I can’t lose him. I can’t. He’s the only person I have. I can’t be alone. I don’t know what will happen to me if I’m alone. I can’t lose my dad. I can’t—“

His brain cuts him off as, without warning, Carlos rises from the table and moves behind him. It’s so fast that TK has no idea how it even happened. One moment, Carlos is at the table beside him; the next, he feels the other man’s body wrapped all around him, so close that he can’t tell where they each begin and end.

Carlos slides his arm around TK’s shoulders, linking their fingers together against TK’s chest. TK grips his forearm with his other hand, relishing in the feel of Carlos’s warm, coarse skin against his fingertips. Carlos’s right arm comes around him from the other side, his head resting next to TK’s, their faces pressed together, side-by-side. From behind, Carlos’s firm torso settles against TK’s back and shoulders, only the back of TK’s chair keeping them from fully melding into one.

Neither speaks. TK has no idea what he would even say. He has never, ever, been held like this before. At least, not by someone like Carlos. Certainly not by Alex, the man he had planned to spend the rest of his life with; they never touched like this. When he was younger, in his teens, before Alex, he touched guys in a different way, almost always for pleasure. But that’s not what this is; this is the furthest thing from sex.

He can feel himself vibrating, so much emotion throbbing through him, but instead of backing off, Carlos just holds him tighter, the hand that’s not holding TK’s rubbing softly against his skin. It’s so gentle, so caring, that TK can only remember being held by one other person with this kind of warmth and strength.

As a kid, TK used to think that Owen Strand could win an award for giving the best hugs in the entire universe. When TK would tell him that, his dad would give him a wide grin and gather him up in his arms, spinning him wildly around the room as TK’s giggles filled the space. He’s never felt safer than in the arms of his dad. His biggest hero. His one constant.

At this moment, all TK can think is how he now has a limited number of those hugs left.

The sudden thought steals the air right from his lungs. Carlos must sense it, because he turns his face towards TK, his nose pressing into the man’s temple. His lips softly caress TK’s ear as he finally speaks. “Breathe, TK,” he whispers softly. “Just breathe.”

It takes a minute before TK really comprehends what he’s saying. The room begins to spin, a result of the lack of oxygen to his brain, but Carlos is there the entire time. TK can feel his breath on his face, and he tries to focus on it, to synch-up their breathing. Carlos is patient and quiet, no longer speaking once he realizes that TK is making an effort to take in oxygen. However, he keeps his body wrapped tightly around TK, making it easier to feel each inhale and exhale.

It takes a while, what feels like hours, but finally TK feels his body relax. His breathing evens out, his vision clears. For the first time, he feels like he’s fully here, in Carlos’s apartment, with the man himself; for the first time all day, he’s fully in the present moment. TK grips Carlos’s hand tightly, silently thanking him for keeping him grounded.

Carlos seems to recognize TK’s newfound calm because he loosens his hold on him; he doesn’t pull away completely, but he gives TK a little space, resting his chin on TK’s shoulder.

“I know that we don’t really do this,” Carlos starts, and TK turns to face him, letting him know that he’s paying attention, “but thank you for letting me help. And for telling me.”

TK shifts just a bit to look Carlos in the eyes; they’re still wide open, but they’re softer than they were before. His forehead is creased in concern, but it doesn’t feel like pity.

“I’ve only known him for a little while, but your dad is one of the strongest people that I’ve ever met,” Carlos says, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across TK’s right arm. “And you, TK, are one of the strongest people that I’ve ever met. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’d put my money on the two of you any day.”

“And no matter what happens with your dad, TK,” Carlos continues, and TK feels him take a deep breath before he goes on, “you are not alone here. You have your entire team, your familia, and they’ve got your back. Siempre.”

TK nods, but he gets the feeling that there’s more Carlos wants to say. The other man has broken eye contact following his little speech, and now he’s looking down at where his thumb continues to glide across TK’s skin.

TK thinks he knows what this is; Carlos has been burned by him before when he dared to show a hint of intimacy, and now he’s keeping his guard up, trying to stay more on the surface instead of diving in head first. TK understands, and he doesn’t blame Carlos for it, but he also wants them to be honest with each other. His last relationship fell apart because of withheld information, and he doesn’t want that with Carlos, no matter what kind of relationship they end up having together.

He knows that he’s going to have to make a move, to prove to Carlos that he’s not running away; that he has no interest in running away from him again.

They’re already sitting so close, but TK leans forward slightly, enough to nudge his forehead against Carlos’s temple. “You’re right,” he says, lips raising into a smirk. “I’ve got my team. And what about you?”

TK feels Carlos’s thumb stop its movement on his arm, but at the same time, he sees his lips turn up into a small smile. He might even be blushing. “Me?” Carlos says, and TK can hear a hint of what might be his signature sass coming out. It makes him smile. “I’m not going anywhere.” Carlos pulls back, looking TK directly in the eye. “You’ve got me whenever you need me, TK.”

The sincerity in his voice doesn’t surprise TK — if he’s learned anything about Carlos in the time that they’ve known each other, it’s that he’s an incredibly genuine person — but it still takes TK aback; he’s still adjusting to life away from the more distant people in New York.

Carlos, ever the observant officer, seems to understand that TK doesn’t necessarily have a response to his honesty; that he needs more time. So, he fills the silence for him.

“But right now, you need to eat. I did not spend hours on these tamales for you to just stare at them with those puppy dog eyes.” Carlos’s eyes glint with laughter as he pulls back, dragging his hands slowly away as he stands straight. TK huffs out a laugh, looking down at his plate. He feels Carlos move around the table to take his seat across from him.

They’re quiet, but it’s not awkward. It feels calming, peaceful — the first peace that TK has known since finding the pills in his dad’s desk. He stares over at Carlos, his face softly glowing in the light from the candles, and takes a deep breath to settle himself.

He’s got this. He’s got Carlos. He’s got Judd, Marjan, Paul, and Mateo. And he’s still got his dad.

He’s got enough support to keep his head above the water.

[passednote]

The Glass Mountain

Adapted from the Polish legend as told by Hermann Kletke

He strode in on a black-bellied mare, whose hooves were caked in the clays of a hundred villages, a thousand battlefields. The muck dripped to the ground and clung there, where it clashed against the pristine, gleaming landscape. I had to look away, for atop the gorgeous creature, his golden armor glinted harshly as the light bounced from the sun to the breastplate to the glassy earth and up again in an infinite repetition.

“Boy!” he called, coming to a halt at my tent. “Know you the path to the summit?”

“Ay, sir. Though ‘tis treacherous, and within dwells a monster.”

“So it’s said, but I must pass.”

I dared to glance up, and was met first by the pools of sorrow in his eyes. He seemed a powerful lad, and carried himself with the cocksure posture I’d seen times beyond count. That look, however, arrested me. It held within it the pains of a short life racing toward a dark fate. I pointed to the northbound path.

“This is your home?”

“For now, sir.”

“Not much food or drink on a mountain of glass.”

“No, sir. But I get by.”

He turned to depart, and I watched a jolt of resistance from his steed slightly pull him. He tenderly rubbed her and as his long, pale neck crane down I imagined him murmuring sweet, impossible promises in her ear. I found myself unable to help from calling out:

“I hope it’s you, sir.”

He turned back, those tawny eyes piercing through me once more. I pinkened.

“My father hoped it was him, and my brothers after. Now I am all that is left, and can only pray the same.”

With that, he passed on.

I rode in the saddle with my mother as we made the long trek to the mountain. Where we came from or whether it took weeks or months, the faint memories no longer can tell me. I was shorter then, and could not reach the stirrups as I can now. My mother and brothers would spend nights by the fire regaling me over and over again of the legend of Glass Mountain until I could recount each dramatic pause by heart.

It was promised that whoever could reach the summit would be greeted by an orchard of apples more delicious than the sweetest honey. In the orchard waited a princess whose mystic kingdom would be granted to them the mountain saw worthy.

Knights and princes beyond count have tried only to be snuffed out by the cruel peaks and the monster that call them home. It’s said that at night it can take whatever form it wishes, and delights in the hunt of the gallant and foolhardy. If anyone were to reach the orchard and taste of the golden fruit, the beast would be banished, and the princess would restore to life all those whom the mountain had claimed.

So it was that my eldest brother began the climb. After a day, the next oldest followed after him. A week of silence passed, and finally my mother and the last of my brothers argued over who next would venture up the cliffside. My brother won out, vowing to leave the following morning while she stayed watch over her youngest son.

That night I dreamt I was Mother, weaving across a battlefield clad in her armor of elegance and cunning matched only by her sheer strength. I lost myself in the grace of her form, feeling each muscle interlock with one another in a state of absolute presence. I slept, envisioning her remolding me in that image. She could teach me the notes of. that inner harmony.

But in truth, Mother was a proud warrior. Whether the glory of the mountain called to her or fear for her sons’ lives, she slipped away in the middle of the night. My brother awoke and gave chase, leaving me still fast asleep in bed.

When I came to, I threw open the tent flap, ready to race after Mother. However, sitting there was a pile of berries and a cooked rabbit. I ate them greedily, for it was far tastier than anything on our voyage. By the time I had my fill, I felt the exhaustion of our journey wash over me, and went back in to rest.

Each day I woke to find more food waiting for me. For a time I spent the days exploring all across the slopes, dueling invisible opponents using my mother’s technique. As her I towered over the sleek wasteland, fearing only the moon and the monsters it might bring.

The years crept by as I watched for a sign of my family’s return. In time I grew, and with each day my body felt less familiar to me. My legs grew thicker, my shoulders tougher, and I feared my mother wouldn’t recognize me when she came back. I meticulously plucked the hairs from my chin using my reflections in the glass to guide me. I stopped eating the food given to me, believing it was the cause of my changes.

I grew so hungry that I accepted I had no choice but to eat. But the mountain is wise and harsh. I pleaded in the night but no food came. Desperate, I went out and learned to gather food, and in time, to hunt. Each day I would strike out and see a thousand copies of an unfamiliar face staring back at me wherever I turned. Again my body grew, and again I felt wrong.

Travelers would pass from time to time, the latest hero eager to sweep a princess off her feet. Many were kind to me, promising they’d save my brothers and mother. But they did not know the terrain’s laws like I did. Whether by the perilous cliffs or the mysterious beast, they were swallowed up. As each new champion rode to conquer, I would be reminded that the mountain always wins.

Hours passed after the shimmering knight and his midnight-colored compatriot departed my company. I’d resigned myself to another fallen hero when a thunderous clap shook the mountainside, forming tight fissures in the glass. I turned back and faintly saw a black horse plummet from one of the taller peaks, a twinkle of gold behind her as they dashed upon the rocks below. So went another hero.

I awoke that night to a cry of anguish. I curled up tight, prepared to shudder in my blanket until the morning came.

Then came another shout, this one much closer. I plugged my ears.

“Please, boy!”

Bolting up, I listened to his shallow breaths, growing softer and softer. I entered a stupor as I felt my body rush from the tent. He was splayed across the ground a few paces back. Even in the dark, I could see the blood gushing from his crushed legs reflected in the cliffs behind him. Rushing over, I grabbed his shoulder and began to drag him to the safety of the tent. That was when I heard the snapping of a branch behind me. I froze.

Crouched between us and safety was an enormous lynx-like creature, with fire for eyes and talon-like claws. It eyed me with the mildest of curiosity before resting its gaze on the knight. On his belt, a karabela rested in its sheath.

The lynx and I both saw what came next. Racing toward us, the cat pounced. I grabbed the sabre and ducked, sweeping under the initial attack before swinging. Sword met bone as the creature tumbled to the ground. It lay there in a daze, bereft of two hind legs whose reflections were splayed all along the uneven glassy mountainside.

I dropped against the knight, ignoring the cat’s whines as I listened at his chest. A faint be, growing fainter.  The man whispered:

“You must save them. Please.”

“I’m just a boy.”

“No. You’re not.”

His weight suddenly collapsed onto me, his head drooped against my chest. The beating of his heart stopped. In his eyes, that beautiful sorrow had dissipated, leaving in its place a blissful, empty reflection of hazel.

It is not easy to bury a body in glass. Instead, that morning I sheltered the knight in the corpse of a fallen tree beside the path. Grabbing the hay from my bed, I bundled him up before setting off that morning. Perhaps the creature was well and truly defeated, and the orchard lay waiting to save all those lost. And if this mountain indeed held my doom, I would no longer wait to receive it.

In addition to the karabela, I carried with me the severed legs of the lynx-beast to ease my climb. When I approached a cliff-face, I dug the talons in to climb up safer paths than others could tread. I entered a pattern of reach, hook, reach hook, and all direction and doubt fell away.

I began to see the last flecks of daylight dance through golden leaves as they peeked over the edge of the summit above me. There I rested, surveying the ravines deep below me, and the bodies beyond count that filled them. I closed my eyes as the world fell to night.

A shriek pierced the lonely cliffside. I rose just in time to make out an enormous pair of feathered wings beating down toward me, carrying with them a hideous vulture’s face. Where its legs ought to be there were only dried stumps. It catapulted at me, stretching its beak wide to grip me as it launched us into the air.

We rose higher and higher, and I saw the murderous look in its eyes. I managed to draw my sword, hacking at the creature to no avail as its grip squeezed tighter and tighter. Up and up we climbed, passing even the apple grove and the mountain’s upper limits. I felt its wings waver a moment just before its beak snapped open to send me plummeting back down to the mountain’s cruel embrace.

I plunged my karabela deep into the creature’s wing, tearing right through it as I fell. We wrestled against one another, hurtling down together into the orchard. I landed first, pillowed by a bed of leaves atop a tree. The monster fell upon me a moment later, knocking me from the branch down to the hard summit ground. I looked into it, expecting to see in the glass my death racing toward me.

Instead I saw the creature grow limp, impaled upon the tree’s knotted arm. Its screeches softened into silence. There I sat until the morning light tickled my eyes open once more.

The orchard was a silent sort of sacred, holding its breath in anticipation. I rose, examining the prized fruit hanging perfectly in place. I could not bear to pluck one away from its parent, instead finding one on the ground, split open during the previous night’s clash. The apple melted in my mouth, soothing my scrapes and sores and overflowing me with a bubbling warmth.

In time, the feeling dissipated and I was left with only echoes of sweetness.

“Princess!” I cried out. “I’ve come to end the curse.”

There was no reply. Again I called out, and again to silence.

“Is that your wish?”

Bolting my head about, I searched for the icy whisper’s source. I knew that voice.

“You are our child, and we will not deny you this request.”

I looked down to the glass earth, and was met only by my reflection.

“I am no child of yours.”

“True, you are a child no longer. But you are ours, and today you may claim what is yours.”

A low rumble began to quake, though the trees stood firm. Glass crackled in fissures, and the area about me began to rise, forming spires and ramparts of glass. Before I knew it I stood atop the battlements of a magnificent castle, whose walls ringed around the sacred orchard until it became a splendid courtyard of gold. Where there was once only unforgiving jagged peaks, a clear path now led from the castle far down to the foothills below.

“The legend told of a princess. I cannot take what is hers.”

“A princess?”

There was a pause, as if the mountain thought this over before replying:

“Is that what you would like to be?”

For a moment I was struck, unable to see past the white-hot lights that ignited all around me. Like the dream so long ago, I felt harmony within and without. I fell into the peace that lasted just a moment before fading back into life.

In the glass beneath me, I saw her: a princess clad in crystalline armor. She looked exactly as I pictured she might— long streaks of shimmering, ashy brown framing a pair of cautious, piercing amber eyes. My mother and brothers’ eyes. As I reached a hand to touch my cheek, so did she. I felt the silk of my hair slip across my fingers.

The mountain rumbled. “A princess will need subjects.”

Speechless, I watched as the path below began to fill with travelers of all sorts and sizes. There were caravaneers whose riches, once lost to the ravines, now piled high in their carts. I recognized more than a few of the warriors whose quests for glory had ended in death, now making their way up to my castle. The gates swung open to meet them as they poured into the courtyard.

I scanned the multitudes for my family, searching desperately for a sign of my brothers or mother. A squire caught sight of me, and doubled over himself in reverence. The bows spread like wildfire among the princes and merchants alike, til all the courtyard was on their knee.

It was then that I spotted a glint of gold among the sea of people. The knight, still wounded, braced himself against a steady woman’s shoulder. My mother guided him to his knee. They looked up to me, my three brothers beside them, as I took my place before this odd array of subjects.

I bid them welcome, recounting to them the very tale I tell you now. In their faces I saw astonishment, disbelief, admiration. When it reached its end, all were silent. The golden knight stood up.

“She is no princess. She is my queen!”

He raised his sword and the crowd joined in, crying out celebrations and oaths of loyalty that lasted far into the night. After a time I retreated into my chamber, still hearing the revelries through my window. I stood at one wall that had been carved into a perfect sheet of glass.

In its reflection I examined my hands, arms, shoulders, chest, waking up to myself as the outsides of my body took shape to hold all of what was within.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Lesion oneshot in which Lesion meets someone important during his first mission and then realises he was horribly wrong over the course of a few years. (Rating T, culture clash + hurt/comfort, ~9k words) - written for @yovelie! I can’t thank you enough for this commission and all your encouragement 💞💞 You continue to be a delight! Find my commission info here!

This fic has been posted to AO3 as well!! Read it here :)

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His presence alone demands respect: he has the aura of someone who turns heads unconsciously, who parts a crowd with no effort and without realising, of a man used to making himself heard. Tze Long inadvertently holds his breath as the broad-shouldered, imposing European paces the room, studying the papers handed to him upon entry and not yet having directed a single word at anyone. He oozes confidence and competence, a good mixture as far as Tze Long is concerned, and despite the circumstances, he’s calmed down considerably. With this fortress of a man on their side, he has nothing to fear.

The man’s companion is less impressive, reminds Tze Long more of an aged schoolkid, sitting the wrong way around on a chair and resting his chin on his arms, eyes lazily trailing after his superior. If anything, he’s an apprentice, for some reason deemed worthy enough to follow this legend around despite proving himself lacking in several aspects – physical appearance is just one of them. He merely scanned the report Tze Long neatly put together before switching to playing with a lighter instead, face bored and impassive.

Indonesian weather doesn’t agree with either of them and yet Tze Long can’t pretend he minds, not when it forces the two to expose their toned arms and causes sweat to bead up on their foreheads enticingly. This is a moment in which he stops wondering why he’s got it so bad for Westerners.

Paper rustles and restless footfalls stop. The tall man fixes Tze Long with a level gaze which shouldn’t cause his heart to skip a beat like this. “Your name is…?”

“Liu Tze Long, sir.”

Two pairs of eyes drill into him yet he returns the stare without blinking. “You know who I am?”

He nods. “I do, sir.” How could he not? Operation Nimrod gained international fame and besides, all special forces have their own celebrities, pass on gossip just as swiftly as the Hollywood scene. Vineyards work fast, especially concerning the British SAS, most acclaimed organisation worldwide. Tze Long has been following this man’s career for about a decade now, hungrily devouring every tasty piece of information he could find. This is his idol before him, in the flesh, and he still has trouble believing it.

“Good. This is James Porter.” The sidekick gives a half-hearted wave and a half-hearted smile. “You’re the one who interpreted the files on the laptop found in Macau?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Fucking bubonic plague”, Mike Baker mutters with a shake of his head, pushing back his sweat-soaked hair. “What do you reckon, Jamie?”

“Complete neutralisation asap”, comes the reply without hesitation, yet delivered like a disagreeable school report, “the files didn’t indicate the existence of more than one lab, so only one infiltration necessary. We’ll have the SDU assist us in gathering intel and coordinating the whole thing, go in, destroy the prototypes and samples as well as all data and leave.”

Tze Long nods mutely. They’ve identified the location of the extremist’s laboratory already which is why his superiors deemed it necessary to ask the Brits for help – their expertise in storming a building riddled with mercenaries and equipped with a worryingly potent biological weapon is limited. He doesn’t let his surprise over James’ astute observations show. He should’ve figured every member of the SAS has been recruited for a reason.

“Almost.” Mike leans against a table and Tze Long’s eyes drop lower all by themselves. “There’s no need to ask more people for help. We three are more than capable of taking down this megalomaniac – the fewer people can alert these terrorists to our plan of attack, the better. We don’t need the SDU’s fancy gadgets if we can help it. Right?”

The last word is directed at Tze Long who nods automatically. He indubitably knows best, seeing as how he’s not only still alive but also in active duty after all this time. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“See? Even he agrees with me.” James simply rolls his eyes, visibly exasperated, but doesn’t dare object. If he had, Tze Long would’ve been appalled with the blasphemy. “You’re both knowledgeable in toxicology, so you better figure out how to get rid of this nonsense while I do observation and planning. Also, if you call me ‘sir’ one more time, I’m gonna personally feed you my badge.”

Tze Long opens his mouth, throws a glance at an extremely amused-looking Porter and decides against speaking up.

“Alright, let’s brainstorm on how to neutralise this plague without causing a medium-sized epidemic”, Porter turns to him with a cheerful grin. “Or, as I’d like to call it: the fun part.”

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~*~

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Macau has never held any fascination for Tze Long for as long as he could think – the old Portuguese buildings, yes, but once he’d seen them, there was only glamour and glitz to discover, new ways of relieving encumbered tourists of their money and the vice-like grip of the Chinese government tightening on a city doomed to be a one-trick pony forever. He never bought into the explosive potential of the casinos, prioritised work over luck and ended up in a respectable place as a result. Things work out eventually, but always through hard work and not unnecessary risk-taking. He prefers necessary risk-taking.

This day, however, he’s come to experience it through someone else’s eyes and allowed the city to dazzle him as if he was a toddler experiencing the Lunar New Year fireworks consciously for the very first time. Everything is bright, loud, inviting and affordable, even for his wallet, and he takes great pride in explaining all the local delicacies, the colonial history and differences between Macau and Hong Kong, as well as Asian customs in general. Most Europeans he meets either already know their fair share about the region or are much more interested in an entirely different thing, so it’s with childlike wonder that he accompanies Mike and James traipsing through Asia’s Las Vegas.

They’ve washed up in a Din Tai Fung purely because Mike knows the restaurant chain and was thirsting for a little bit of familiarity after an entire day of concentrated culture shock – but not familiar enough to allow them to forget they’re in another continent, like one of the many American fast food chains might’ve done, even given their differing menu.

“I never would’ve pegged you for a gambler”, Tze Long chuckles in between dumplings and marvels not for the first time at the fact that conversing with one of the most renowned blades has become this easy over the course of a singular mission.

“Me neither, but results don’t lie.” Mike frowns at the cup of green tea before downing it in one go. He doesn’t look like a fan. “If you hadn’t dragged me off, I might be a few thousand quid richer.”

“If we hadn’t dragged you off you’d be on your fifth Singapore sling and probably hitting on a coat rack”, James states drily.

“A miracle – the man who bets on everything shies away from roulette.”

“Not everyone has your kind of pocket change. And besides, I only bet on meaningful things. Like the fact that I’m gonna eat more than either of you of these – what are they called again?”

“Xiao long bao.” Tze Long pokes at one of the steamed dumplings filled with pork and hot soup. “And don’t bother betting anything, my stomach becomes bottomless when it comes to them.”

“You look like you don’t have them very often, in that case”, Mike interjects with a grin and definitely did not expect Tze Long to mirror his expression and retort: “You look like you have them a little too often.” He’s come to learn that friendly banter is not only viewed favourably but also generally expected, and not for the first time he’s grateful for his extended interest in expats.

Once James is done laughing (which takes a while and is made worse by Mike’s glare), he suggests: “These things are bloody delicious, so I’m definitely not gonna lose. Let’s bet on a dessert.”

Tze Long agrees, and their banter continues. An outsider might not identify them as extremely recent acquaintances, not with how easily Tze Long laughs, not with how naturally James elbows him in the side, not with how nonchalantly Mike overlooks their antics. But near death experiences have a way of forming unbreakable bonds, invisible strings tying near strangers together and inspiring them to treat each other almost like family: an involuntary gathering of people who share a fundamental trust. It’s easier to ignore shortcomings or differing opinions when they’ve had each other’s blood on their hands, and never before has Tze Long felt this connection as strongly as with these two Englishmen. They will stay in contact after this, that much is obvious, and maybe he’s made friends for life.

Maybe he’s made more.

Mike was the first one to ask him for his number, and if he noticed Tze Long’s fingers shaking, he didn’t comment on it.

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As expected, both of them end up too full to even think about trying the molten chocolate-filled dumplings nor the matcha cake, so they agree on a draw after probably having miscounted anyway. Tze Long shows his gratitude for Mike’s winnings paying for their meal by gifting him a charm for his phone, one that’s not too tacky and meant to bring good fortune, and because he doesn’t want James to be empty-handed, he buys one for him too. They walk off the food coma by one of the beaches; it’s cooled down a little over the course of the evening and so neither of them takes their shirt off. Shame.

They linger outside of the hotel.

“You’re going back to Hong Kong tonight?”, Mike inquires, stretching in the humid night air and displaying his long limbs like an unconcerned predator knowing it’s at the top of the food chain.

“Yes. I sleep better at home and the ferries go regularly even at this hour. It’s a shame about your flight, I would’ve liked to show you my home.”

“And I’d like to show you ours”, James replies, sounding surprisingly genuine. Usually, half of what he utters is sarcasm and the other half jokes – if he hadn’t displayed professionalism and competence during their mission on top of that, Tze Long might’ve refused to work with him outright. “If you’re ever in Europe, call.”

“And if you’re ever in Asia again, let me know.” He fidgets. His throat is swollen with all the half-sentences threatening to burst out, all the confessions he’s suppressing… but there’s a foreign body in the way and he’s not willing to lay himself bare before these attentive eyes which have been following his every move for days now. He’s long understood that laziness and disinterest are a cover to hide a sharp sense of observation as well as a keen mind. James prefers being underestimated. Mike, on the other hand, is as authentic as it gets – he never holds back, sees bluntness as a virtue and wastes no time in hiding. Enviable. Tze Long wishes he could do the same.

“I forgot to buy smokes, be right back”, James announces into the short silence and disappears as if he’d read Tze Long’s mind. The opportunity is perfect, made even better when Mike addresses him directly.

“I’m serious, it was a pleasure working with you.” His chest swells at the genuine compliment. “Even if you’re as suicidal as Jamie. You’ll get far. Do you have a lot of experience under your belt already?”

He omitted this fact as to not spark any doubts, but now he might as well admit it. “Actually, this was my first mission.”

Mike’s brows lift, just like the corners of his mouth. “And you waited this long to tell us? You son of a bitch, I don’t believe it. I have even less doubt about your future now. I hope to see you again soon.” He holds out his hand and Tze Long takes it, feels a warm palm against his own, a strong grip, melts under approving eyes. “You did well. I mean it. Take care of yourself, will you?”

Please, he thinks but doesn’t even dare finish the thought let alone allow his tongue to betray him, dumbly repeats the word in his head over and over like a mantra, like a spell he’s trying to weave. Please. Please. “Yes. You too. Have a safe flight.” And with those words, Mike Baker seemingly vanishes from his life. Silhouette starkly visible against the bright light of the hotel lobby, the embodiment of everything Tze Long wants and wants to be, he leaves, in his wake the hot night air clogging lungs and airways and hearts.

When Tze Long turns, James is silently offering him a lit cigarette. They share it without a word, just like Tze Long often enforced an awkward quiet between them through non-committal replies or flat out ignoring quips despite their wittiness. Looking back, he feels bad about it.

“Wanna join me upstairs?”, the Brit asks as he extinguishes the mutual vice and leads the way when Tze Long nods. Mind and expression carefully blank, they ride the elevator up and enter the luxurious room after James has unlocked it. It’s about the same size as Tze Long’s apartment in Hong Kong. “Shower? Your preference.”

He shakes his head and watches the other man approach him, closes his eyes only a second after their lips touch.

It’s always so obvious, with Europeans. They make no move to hide their interest or curiosity, seem to have no off switch whereas Tze Long has stumbled over vague acquaintances, locals whom he’d never have suspected in the past. James telegraphed clearly until he knew he was understood, and then continued unintentionally.

He’s a good kisser, at least. Considerate, adaptive, even playful – he manages to coax a few smiles out of Tze Long as they just stand there and kiss, despite him feeling like the entire last week didn’t even matter. He wouldn’t have felt like this even if they’d failed. But James is more and more successful in taking his mind off it, and for that he’s grateful. He does have a nice build, favouring the torso over legs but Tze Long doesn’t mind, not when he can run his hands over hard muscles and feel them dance below his fingertips.

They crawl onto the bed, James shirtless and unreasonably attractive-looking, dark mane fanning out on his pillow and ribs expanding prettily with every deep inhale over Tze Long toying with his tongue. He’s hard, both of them are, and it’s no surprise that the first piece of clothing James tries to undo are Tze Long’s trousers.

“I top”, he whispers against a swollen mouth and slides lower to capture an erect nipple with his lips.

James picks up on his phrasing. “Exclusively?” He doesn’t sound like he minds and lets out a beautiful little moan.

“Exclusively Westerners.” Tze Long doesn’t mention he rarely sleeps with locals as it is – many of them are a mirror to his own insecurities and remind him of the endless questions about his marital status. He’s met wonderful local men, yes, one wonderful woman too, an outlier who sadly didn’t stay by his side or else she could’ve made most of his life a lot easier, but when it comes down to it, he prefers the natural demeanour, the surprise over him having to hide, the cheerful forgetfulness concerning their cultural differences. It’s easier to not be reminded than to overcome.

“Had enough of white guy machos who come to the ‘land of the bottoms’ expecting everyone to fall at their feet?” He’s amused yet not mocking.

“Not far off”, Tze Long admits with a smile and leans up for another kiss which is eagerly accepted. He’s starting to get the impression James would be content with nothing but snogging the entire night and the thought makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s not a race thing”, James mutters, hands gently stroking over Tze Long’s body, “I just like pretty people.”

And I like people who take what I’m willing to give without much fuss, Tze Long thinks and marvels over how the body below his comes alive at his every touch. He’s a magnet and James made of metal, has no choice but to strain towards him, intense gaze fixed on his face. Somehow, it hurts looking at him. “What else do you like?” Tze Long parts legs with a soft push to an inner thigh and settles between them.

“Anything. I’m not picky.” Coming from anyone else, he wouldn’t have believed it, but it rings true for James. “Live out your fantasies.” He smiles and means it, despite his next words. “I know I’m a substitute.”

Tze Long’s mouth goes dry. His cheeks burn, actually feel on fire. Restless digits roam over exposed skin but none of its warmth manages to penetrate his own. He feels cheapened, caught. He knows James noticed. He just thought he’d have the decency not to mention it.

He tries to save it with a kiss, but it’s sticky, sickly sweet like too much candy, the taste clinging to the roof of his mouth. Like Macau itself, a pretty façade and nothing more. James can tell he’s not feeling it anymore, he’s sure.

“You don’t have to”, James says, so full of understanding Tze Long’s stomach is in knots.

“I want to”, he lies. Kind eyes blink up at him. James really is handsome, at third glance. He imagines what it’s like to actually fuck him. He wonders what he’d feel like afterwards. The thought is sobering.

“How about we walk around the city some more instead? There were other places you mentioned we didn’t get to see. I’ll just skip sleeping.”

Tze Long doesn’t ask whether it’s really alright with James. He just nods and gets up.

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~*~

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Confrontation goes against his nature. He’s always cultivated a healthy mix of empathy and disillusionment with humanity as a whole, both to understand other people’s actions as well as not care too much – he’s self-sufficient, needs little to be content, is ambitious without being overzealous, and he believes that everyone eventually gets what they deserve. Picking fights, holding grudges, none of it appeals to him, instead seems clunky, awkward, unnecessary. He lives and lets live, expects others to show him similar courtesy but doesn’t cause a fuss when they don’t.

This, however, is different.

“I’ve been working on this for two months, as you’re well aware, and now you’re saying I won’t be permitted to bring this mission to its conclusion?” His tone is even but his fingers flex, betraying his anger, even resentment.

Mei Lin had to pull him aside so they don’t have this conversation in front of the rest of their team, for which he’s grateful, though he hopes it doesn’t appear as if he’s questioning her authority. She’s gotten enough shit as it is. “Yes”, she replies curtly. “This is non-negotiable. Leave.”

Tze Long catches his fury before it breaks out of him. He respects her like no other, and unlike his peers, doesn’t hold her to higher standards just because she’s a woman. She’s had to work twice as hard to receive half as many commendations. No, this isn’t about her. “You know my work is important to me”, he appeals to her sense of duty, but he’s got the impression he’s not talking to her in her function as his superior right now, despite all.

“This isn’t your call to make either way.” He believes it. If their roles were reversed, if he begged her to exclude him from the mission yet she deemed him irreplaceable, she wouldn’t allow it. “I will bear the consequences. I am aware of what I’m doing. And you need to go.”

He sincerely hopes she’s not committing career suicide, not after she’s fought her way into the SDU, clawed her way up with iron discipline and excellent results. She could have him officially rebuked for insubordination if he refused and stayed. So he doesn’t.

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A few hours later, he feels his father’s pulse fade under his fingertips.

.

Tze Long feels like he’s underwater. Like he’s a singular grain of sand, mercilessly and relentlessly being tossed around by the tide, ground up against his brethren over and over again until they’ve all lost their edge, become smooth and round and compatible, until they make up a pretty picture as a whole, with their personal identities vanishing in favour of making up a greater good.

A metropolis like Hong Kong seems to have this effect on people – at least on most of the ones he’s met. They turn into exchangeable faces, rehashing the same conversations over and over, fulfilling their purpose and causing no ruckus. Oiling the machine. On bad days, this impression weighs him down amid the traffic noises, the daily rush to work and back, the desperate attempts to take the mind off everything. On good days, he manages to spot beauty wherever he goes, smiles and small gestures of kindness, the shocking diversity of the city representing unification and celebration of life in all forms. Hong Kong is colourful in more ways than one, if he dares to look.

Today is a bad day.

He’s frantically chewing on a toothpick while tonguing the sore spots in his mouth where he poked himself before. A friend suggested replacing cigarettes with something else to keep his mouth occupied and help suppress the addiction, and after dismissing chewing gum and carrots, he’s landed on this. So far, it does nothing to quell his anxiety.

When Mei Lin leaves the building, her expression is unreadable until she’s stopped right in front of him, blinking up into the painfully direct sunlight. They study each other, both looking for signs of weakness not to exploit but to encourage. Eventually, she nods. “We’re good”, she announces and both of them slump a little in relief.

What she really means to say is: I’m good. But Tze Long doesn’t correct her. “What did he say?”

“He was understandably upset I would force you off the mission after you’ve been the most involved op in the whole thing. He blamed me for being soft, for endangering the rest of the troop by replacing you. And he told me I shouldn’t have let you know about the call.”

Tze Long nods silently. It’s what he expected.

If she’d told him of the call afterwards, he wouldn’t have been there to witness his father’s last breath.

“But there was someone else there. SAS. Apparently a friend of yours.”

His stomach flips. Did he really come? He wouldn’t have thought – he messaged him that day, late at night, not expecting a reply as usual. Responses were scarce, have always been, so he figured he’d get a supportive text back in a week or two. Not this. His heartbeat quickens and he has to hold himself back to let Mei Lin finish instead of charging the building.

“He wanted to know what happened and then offered his own advice. I’ll spare you the details, they argued a bit, but he held the opinion that amid our discipline and rigorous training, we mustn’t forget we’re also human. Because this humanity is the entire reason we’re doing any of what we’re doing. And in his opinion, I acted according to this ideal and therefore shouldn’t be punished.”

“That does sound like something he’d say”, Tze Long agrees quietly.

Both of them turn to the busy street as if on signal, take a deep breath, compose themselves. He wants to embrace her, wonders whether she’ll take it the right way. Everything is impermanent, he recently received a sharp reminder of this, and his need to cherish everything he still has left throbs behind his temples. Instead, he settles for an earnest: “Thank you. I didn’t agree in the moment, but I do now. You made the correct call.”

“I know.” She fixes him with a gaze so full of sympathy that it paralyses him. “I’m sorry.”

He just nods again. Despite all, he wants to ask her about him, what he was like, whether she liked him, whether she understood who exactly he is. The realisation of how much he cares is frightening, even more so when he hears footsteps behind him, clearly approaching the two of them. He’ll never be ready to face him, never has been, and so he takes the plunge without hesitation and turns around, turns to -

“It’s just me”, James states almost apologetically the moment he must notice the disappointment in Tze Long’s expression.

Whatever it is, whether it’s the uncomfortable vacuum Tze Long has been carrying around with him for a few days already, hindering his ability to feel anything, whether it’s the relief of seeing a familiar, friendly face, whether it’s the fact that James just helped Mei Lin – it’s not nearly as big of a letdown as Tze Long would’ve expected. Yes, he’d hoped it’d be him. But after a second, he’s already come to terms with the fact that it isn’t, and if he’s completely honest, he doesn’t even mind that much. “Good to see you”, he says and means it.

James’ face lights up with a smile. “Good to be here.”

.

Their dynamic is different.

Tze Long fails to pinpoint why, whether it’s the long months – years, he realises – of constant communication, the fact that he’s not looking over James’ shoulder for most of the time, or the sad circumstances. He’s sociable enough, always enjoys making and keeping friends from all over the world which has come in handy not only at his job but also in his spare time, so he kept up the steady stream of messages between the younger Brit and himself. It wasn’t like they texted every day, yet he expected a message at least once a week and wasn’t ever disappointed. Usually, it was either a world event which occupied them, a remarkable injury on either side (like when Tze Long broke his toe by demonstrating his lack of skill on the tightrope, or when James dreamt bad, flailed around in his sleep and punched himself in the nuts), an entertaining story they came across or just a simple checking in. Casual, pleasant, inconsequential conversations.

Now that they’re face to face once more, James is much more tangible, with that singular dimple he actually pointed out at some point, the laid-back attitude which puts Tze Long at ease immediately, filled to the brim with terrible ideas and even worse jokes and never turning down a challenge. He’s a painting which has come alive, surprising in its actuality yet its core still intact. It’s not like meeting an entirely new person, more of… seeing a whole.

In the half-day they have available, Tze Long shows him Hong Kong. The flight leaves late at night and James bemoans the fact that he’s got trouble sleeping on planes as it is, so the jetlag will kill him, and Tze Long doesn’t ask whether he was in the area anyway, doesn’t ask when he arrived in the first place, why exactly he came.

He suggests Din Tai Fung once more but James shakes his head, inquires about other local specialties and trails after him until they reach the night market on Temple Street which isn’t as crowded as usual seeing as it’s only afternoon. Like in Macau, Tze Long revels in his position as tourist guide and points out miscellaneous facts, tells a few anecdotes and buys a chocolate-flavoured egg waffle as well as milk tea so James can munch and sip on something while marvelling at the colourful trinkets and embroidered clothes offered en masse. In order to get him to try as many stalls as possible, they share portions of dim sum, grilled squid and braised meat, and it delights him to see that James is willing to try basically everything – except for stinky tofu, which is understandable. Tze Long barely smells it at this point but he knows it’s quite off-putting to people not used to it.

Before they head to visit the nearby temples, he purchases fresh fruits to complete the culture shock: some lychee-like longans, a shockingly bright pink dragon fruit and a sweetsop, Tze Long’s personal favourite with its creamy, aromatic flesh. James’ curiosity knows no bounds and, very uncharacteristically, he doesn’t treat Hong Kong with his usual biting sarcasm. It’s not reverence he shows either, and Tze Long would be hard pressed to describe his attitude as anything more precise than simple enchantment.

They barely manage to get to Victoria Peak before sunset. Just like the rest of the city, the mountain is flooded with people, all trying to get the best selfie before moving on, whereas James leans against the railing on one of the viewing platforms and merely looks. Tze Long steps up next to him, close enough to touch, forcing the bustling activity behind them to the back of his mind and tries to see his home through James’ eyes. Below them, countless skyscrapers stretch upwards like fingers, reaching out for infinity.

“What about where you live?”, James wants to know after a long while. “I want to see where you used to work. Where you grew up.”

He shakes his head after some deliberation. “We don’t have time for that”, he lies when in reality he’s not ready to face this part of his life again, especially not show it to a stranger of sorts. His past feels deeply personal somehow, his struggle to end up where he is now like a secret he’d better keep. Part of it is simple vanity – he wouldn’t like to imagine James telling his colleagues, telling him. And of course, the one person who shared this history with him has now passed away.

James’ eyes are on him, attentive, almost waiting. “Next time?”, he asks, sounding hopeful. Tze Long wonders what kind of impression he’ll take away from this short visit.

“Yes. Next time.” He’s not sure if there will be one, but he hopes he’ll feel differently about himself by then.

“What was he like?”

A deep breath. How is he meant to answer this question? “Kind but firm”, he offers and puts a new toothpick in his mouth. “No time for nonsense but always willing to listen if something was on my mind. Distracted, at times. Whenever he found a gift for me, he’d present it so proudly. He was happiest when he could teach me things, show me the world. When he couldn’t work anymore, he -” His voice breaks, so he stops talking. Despite it not being his fault, guilt had plagued his father for decades. Having to rely on his only son, witnessing Tze Long’s struggle took its toll on him just like on Tze Long himself, though it changed into fierce pride later on, once he became a Flying Tiger. But he remembers the forlorn stare into their empty cupboards, the reassurances of being able to mend clothes, shoes, self-image.

James is going to get a sunburn and it’s not going to be pretty. He hasn’t tanned much this summer yet and Tze Long wants to reach out to protect his skin from the merciless rays. To maybe run fingers through his luscious hair. “He sounds like a good father.”

“He was.”

And despite the serenity of the moment, James actually goes there: “Your description of him reminds me of someone.”

Tze Long fights down the urge to simply leave. He’s better than that. “I bet you won’t drink a whole glass of durian milk”, he switches topics and earns a side-glance he’s incapable of deciphering.

.

“- you should’ve seen his face when I told him to shove it, pure comedy, this dude was not used to anyone saying no to him, not with him built like a bloody fridge and that stupid fuckin’ tattoo on his forehead, something daft like carnivorous or edgelord, I don’t even remember, I only remember thinking: this lad must’ve randomly picked a word from the dictionary that sounded cool.”

Tze Long moves his own drink out of the range of James’ flailing arms but makes no move to interrupt him.

“And me, a foot shorter and seemingly harmless, refusing to budge? Well, you can imagine what happened.”

“I do hope you wiped the floor with him.”

“First he punched me in the throat, but yes, afterwards I most definitely wiped the floor but only because he tripped over some barbed wire, nearly shredded his entire dick and bled all over the fucking linoleum. That was the last time he tried to sell some fake insurance, I’m sure.”

Drunk James is adorable. He’s become a waterfall, largely unaware of himself not in an inconsiderate way but an endearing one, speaking his mind openly and demanding Tze Long’s full attention. He fills silences with anything and everything, after two cocktails already, and he goes deaf when Tze Long tells him that going on a plane while intoxicated might not be the best idea. They’re perched by the bar, sipping bitter liquor because today is just one of those days and let the soft pop music relax their muscles.

While he prattles on, rants about the next odd encounter, Tze Long gets distracted by the curve of his eyebrows and the hard jaw and he wonders whether he’s still interested. What he’d say to the suggestion of dipping into a hotel real quick. It’s less than an hour until he has to be at the airport, however, hardly enough time, but idly toying with the idea is fun nonetheless.

“Thank you for coming”, he eventually manages to interject while James takes a breath.

“Aye. Mike relayed the message and it sounded like you might get in trouble, or your colleague might. He’s off gallivanting around the Middle East somewhere I think, claims he’s busy doing recon or whatnot but I bet he’s lazing in the sun and resting his bones. Soon he’s gonna be the oldest bloke in the SAS, did you know? Fucker’s immortal. Some of the lads who bet on his retirement are gone themselves by now.”

Tze Long did not know this. He doesn’t know a lot of things about Mike. “I appreciate your help, in any way.”

“Believe me, your boss didn’t.” James grins and it makes him look years younger. “I might get shit for it but my major has my back. And I got yours. If anything else is up, let me know and I’ll travel half the world again.”

He has no doubt James would, and he tries to identify whether it’s a snipe aimed at him for texting Mike only, not him, but isn’t sure. His brooding is interrupted when he spots a familiar figure at the other end of the counter, glancing over and flashing him a wide smile. “Oh no”, he mutters to himself.

“I swear though, that bloody rotten egg fruit, whatever it’s called, I’m never touching one of those again, I still wanna throw up every time I burp.” James interrupts himself to follow Tze Long’s gaze. “What, someone making bedroom eyes at you?”

“Yes. He’s very charming, to be honest.” He sighs, shaking his head. Should’ve known better than to drag James to his usual club. “And very married.”

“That happen often?”

It’s too complicated to go into detail, so he nods. Having grandchildren continues to be one of the highest priorities in the life of a parent, and Tze Long has met many, many guys living a double life – one for society and their family, one for themselves. He’d rather not get involved with these men even if it means limiting himself.

“Want me to take care of it?”

The seemingly innocent question makes him huff in amusement. “Please don’t start a bar fight, I’d hate to get banned.”

“More than one way to show you’re not interested”, James mutters and true, he’s right.

Tze Long doesn’t even mind. He puts his toothpick aside.

They meet halfway between their chairs and James’ corners of his mouth are turned upwards when they do. He tastes of rum and tobacco and the tendrils of addiction pull at him enticingly at the reminder of what he’s given up; the background noise fades in favour of his own heartbeat and James is still smiling, never once stops. His smile feels like a thinly-veiled accusation and a self-satisfied victory simultaneously and yet Tze Long can’t get enough. James switches to his chair, actually settles on his thighs without breaking the heady touch of lips on lips, clearly uncaring of the spectacle they’re putting on. Tze Long’s hands stray to his sides and for once, he’s not picturing a different body between his palms.

“I think we’re good”, he murmurs after a while, after all decency is long overthrown.

“Hmm, no, he’s still looking”, James hums back without even opening his eyes once, smile widening, but when Tze Long withdraws, he relents and instead pulls him into a hug.

And it just overwhelms him. The rare feel of a warm body makes him realise he hasn’t deliberately, consciously touched another human being in days, reminds him of the empty apartment he’ll return to, chock full of memories and shards which don’t cut deep by themselves yet make up a fearsome blade as a whole; reminds him of the desperate loneliness which creeps up on him now and then, whenever he’s weak, whenever he lets it. He thinks of the eternal double check mark, message received, thinks of his colleagues’ triumphant faces as they recounted the successful mission without him.

He clings, hard, and only notices the supportive arms wrapped around him once his fingers have stopped shaking. He’s breaking down in the middle of the bar, visible to everyone, to people he knows, and the shame burns almost worse than his grief.

Regardless, James is still there. Whispering nothings, stroking his back soothingly, acting as if none of this was out of line. His warmth is painful because he’s unsure how to repay it, but right now he has no choice but to accept.

“It’s okay”, James tells him like he really believes it. “You’ll be alright.”

.

~*~

.

He turns out to be correct, even if it takes some time for Tze Long to wholly believe it.

A piercing stare accompanies the realisation together with a suffocating amount of information he’s expected to digest and memorise, and yet he couldn’t be happier. The office is nondescript and icy for his standards and he can already tell it’ll take some time to get used to this part of the earth.

“I am very happy to know you in our team”, Six finishes with a seriousness Tze Long respects. “Welcome to Rainbow.”

“It is an honour.” He matches her tone. “I’m looking forward to working with you, ma’am.” He knows when he’s dismissed, gets up and ready to start this new chapter of his life, but curiosity gets the better of him: “May I ask – am I the only one of my unit you’ve recruited?”

Six’ expression softens. The formal part is over, she can rest assured all her points have come across and therefore she allows herself some friendliness. “No. One of your colleagues will join us as well – Mei Lin Siu.”

He finds himself smiling. “That is an excellent choice, ma’am.”

“Funny. She said the same thing about you.”

.

~*~

.

England is cold, empty, quiet and boring. And Tze Long is surprisingly fine with it.

He traded comfortable warmth for considerably less rain – even if the Spanish operators give him an odd look over this statement – and exercising outdoors is less suffocating, less of a chore. Admittedly, he could do without winter but after having been enlightened about layers, sealing gloves and sleeves and other tricks which Mira and Jackal divulge gladly, it’s not that bad. Even if summer has him a little homesick now and then. Sometimes he also misses the liveliness of his home, the many faces just like his, the natural way people accept each other as an inevitability. Here, it happens that existing in a space earns him disapproving glances.

But it’s quiet. He sleeps like the dead, hasn’t been this calm in decades and finally finds enough time to really pursue hobbies he had to neglect previously: he reads for days on end, dabbles (and generally fails) in a few crafty endeavours, follows the news from the silence of his apartment, feeling secure, comfy, safe. He picks up cooking, much to James’ delight, and together they spend a weekend on xiao long bao, having to re-do the dough several times and despairing over the soup gelatin only to give up and attempt it again a week later, nailing it first try. And whenever the muted quality of this country threatens to overwhelm him, he puts on some music, a film, or simply invites James over.

He doesn’t have many complaints, not when he spends most of his free mornings in bed with a steaming cup of coffee by his side and phone in hand, the world under his fingertips. Still, it required some getting used to the way people treat each other, the blunt and direct style of communication, the many gestures which would be deemed horribly rude in Asia.

Tze Long idly ponders cultural differences while Mike hands him a bowl of rice, chopsticks simply stabbed into it.

Next to him, he can sense James’ eyes widening before he quickly snatches the utensils and holds them out to Tze Long instead. They share a secret, slightly embarrassed smile, just like they did when Mike presented him with four sample bottles of whisky from his favourite distilleries – he can’t expect everyone to be aware of common superstitions, but he would’ve guessed the social stigma around the number four would’ve been widespread enough to have reached Mike’s ears. Even Mark pulled a face in the background, and James elbowed him, accepting one of the bottles gratefully.

Mike is trying, that’s the part which counts, and Tze Long is fiercely appreciative: he hasn’t celebrated his birthday properly in an eternity, certainly not with colleagues which have become more than that over time, and certainly not with gifts as thoughtful as the ones he’s received (like the high quality tea from Mei Lin, and an entire book series of English classics from James). Mike is trying, and as he’s come to realise over the years, this doesn’t always amount to much. But it doesn’t matter, provided he manages his expectations.

Somewhere along the way, he’s stopped drinking up literally every single word dripping from his lips, stopped blindly accepting, stopped the worship. Mike is a friend. Mike is even a bit of a shit friend a lot of the time, yet his heart remains in the right place – which is a little distant, a little distracted, and far, far away from Tze Long’s.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked”, he informs his gracious host matter-of-factly, and can spot the flattered happiness through the ensuing modesty. It’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever eaten, but his statement remains true nonetheless. Aniseed in curry is courageous and the result a little odd yet edible, and so complaining is the furthest thing on his mind.

When Mike is back to bustling around in the kitchen, Mei Lin quietly asks the other guests: “He really went all out. Does he do this often?”

“Never”, replies Seamus, sounding amused. He looks a giant next to Tze Long’s comparatively dainty teammate, though they seem to get along well. “He’s forgotten Mark’s and Jamie’s before, and gave me out-of-date rum truffles for my birthday.”

“Aren’t you on a diet?”, she asks, prompting a meaningful nod.

“He really cares about Tze Long, even if he’s not sure how to show it”, James interjects, sounding bored. “They’ve been friends for a long while, after all.”

“We have been friends for a long while”, Tze Long feels the need to point out. James’ eyes slide over to him, bore into his skull, almost intense enough to cause him to lower his gaze – but he doesn’t. He knows what it’s for, all the dismissive replies in the beginning, him acting as if the clown (whose humour meshed surprisingly well with his own, who was willing to undertake the same risks as him, who watched his every move) was invisible. If he could go back, he’d act differently. If he could go back, he wouldn’t spend a significant amount of his life chasing after a castle in the sky.

But he did, and now it’s done.

“We have”, he affirms, and instead of agreeing, James gets distracted by Seamus addressing him, and this simple fact shouldn’t bother Tze Long as much as it does. He doesn’t have a monopoly on him, he has to regularly remind himself of this. He didn’t earn the right to have one.

.

Joining Mike in the kitchen feels less like a conscious decision and more of an escape. “I can’t thank you enough”, he begins and is immediately interrupted by a scoff.

“You could lie and tell me this blobby pudding isn’t the most sorry-looking excuse for custard you’ve ever seen.”

“This custard looks delicious”, Tze Long lies smoothly and Mike’s gruff laugh mends his brittle soul a bit. They’ve learnt to interact with each other without any of the awkwardness prevalent in the beginning of Tze Long’s time in Rainbow.

“Good lad. And you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do. For once, you could shut up and accept people being nice to you.” It’s ingrained in Tze Long to fight for the bill, react modestly to and dismiss compliments rather than accept them, refuse gifts a few times when receiving them. He opens his mouth to object, but once more Mike is faster: “I’ve received complaints about you, you know. You’re being too bloody nice – people just need to mention a book and you’ve already promised to let them borrow it, you give lifts to unsuspecting whiners and generally are too friendly. We’re in fucking England, no one knows how to deal with that shite here.”

Tze Long grins, even if he’s aware Mike isn’t purely joking. “Are you suggesting I’m not already playing my part in making our work environment… more toxic?”

The eye roll he receives is inordinately satisfying, yet his triumph doesn’t last. “No, lad, I’m telling you to go out and bloody take something for yourself. Something which you’ve wanted for a long, long time. You’re allowed, you know? You’re allowed to demand things.”

And this strikes a chord. The smile on Tze Long’s lips fades the further the words sink, float down, down, down into the murky depths of his subconscious which reacts with instant, intense panic. Because they only become louder the deeper they reach, their echo reverberating and creating a cacophony making it impossible to think straight. Unhelpfully, his conscious mind provides a solution, the one suggestion which he’s carried on his tongue for years, wrote on his forehead, the one truth he thought irrevocable: “Are you telling me to ask you out?”

The awkwardly-shaped sentence lodges in his throat, causes the gears in his head to grind and shriek, and it’s wrong, so wrong, if Mike says yes he’s never setting foot in his flat again, fuck the idolising, fuck professional relationships, he’ll curl up in ball and shake and shiver and shudder because no, it’s not what he wants, maybe something he never wanted in the first place.

While he’s still reeling from what’s raging on inside him, Mike throws him an almost pitiful glance. “Not me I’m talking about”, he grumbles. “I mean the one bloke whose friendliness you’ve always accepted without any protest.”

And isn’t that the fucking point?

It’s the one person who consistently made him lose face, no matter what, humiliated him with his displays of adoration Tze Long could never hope to repay, proved him unworthy with every breath he takes, and his presence burns under his fingernails, a constant itch chipping away at his honour because he deserves none of it and yet he wants. Oh he wants. He’s humbled by every easy laugh following disrespect, and the more this shadowy figure was pushed away, the harder it tried to keep up, and keeping it hazy is so much easier than allowing its entire being to invade every nook and cranny of his life.

Only -

That already happened a while ago, didn’t it?

James is outside, an unopened beer in his hand and smoking by himself because Seamus doesn’t endorse his addiction and Mei Lin and Mark hate the smell. He’s glowing in the setting sun, illuminated almost from the inside and Tze Long viciously wishes his brilliancy was contagious. “What’s wrong?”, he asks, unaware of the storm raging behind Tze Long’s unchanged exterior.

“I’m cold”, he replies, earning furrowed brows.

“It’s July.”

“Yes.”

They look at each other. James’ lips purse around the cigarette and Tze Long wants to grab the bottle and smash it on the asphalt, just to expend some of the energy throbbing through him. “Did Mike say anything? Are you okay?”

“I bought two tickets to Hong Kong.” And it’s out. With this, he’s handed himself over and there’s no going back.

“You’re going with him?” Carefully neutral. James stubs out the cigarette and takes out his key ring with its bottle opener attached. There’s a piece of string, too, displaying some of the decorative beads Tze Long recognises easily. The charm must’ve fallen off or broken after extensive use over the years.

“I wouldn’t want him to come along.”

Busy hands pause. He still doesn’t understand. “Mei Lin is accompanying you?”

“No.” They don’t have leave at the same time anyway. But he and James do. Always had.

Fingers twitch. Then slowly set the beer down on the stone steps behind them. He’s looking everywhere but at Tze Long, long hair falling into his eyes. “So -”

“I’ve been buying two ever since I joined Rainbow.” They both know how conscious he is of spending money.

“Jesus”, says James.

Tze Long is dizzy. He expected this moment to taste half-fermented, almost rotten, like a fruit ignored for too long, but instead it’s an explosion of refreshing flavour and pleasant sweetness, horrifyingly addicting. His face hurts and he realises that he’s grinning from cheek to cheek, must look like a lunatic if James’ expression is anything to go by. “Come with me. Please.”

And James seems to understand what he means, even if a frown tugs on his mouth and the face he makes is one of sorrow and not happiness, yet when Tze Long steps closer, James latches onto him like a drowning man.

His turmoil is far from appeased, but one thought prevails above all, forces his emotions to simmer down: I might not deserve this, he thinks, but he certainly does. He holds James until he’s shaking only with laughter, nothing else, the half-suppressed bouts of relief convincing him more and more of having made the right decision. They’re each other’s anchors, unwilling to let go, and beam at each other so brightly it blots out the sun.

“I’d love to”, James tells him in that rare, genuine tone of voice Tze Long has never heard him use with anyone else. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.” His lack of hesitation only increases James’ luminosity. “I’ll show you everything, James. I’ll show you all.” This seems to convince him, no doubt due to the far-reaching implications.

This time, when they kiss, Tze Long knows for a fact he won’t feel his stomach drop afterwards. And it’s mostly because he knows it won’t be their last one.

[sinnawrites217]

Caffeine Challenge #24

“This is a battleground. I’m caught in the crossfire. My words are weaponry. And I’m waiting patiently. You win the battle now. But I will return the fire. ‘Cause I’d crawl on broken glass. To be the one who laughs last”

She remembered the stories, in the courts. Humans - always so fearful of what they didn’t understand. At least they understood their place, understood that the fair folk were their betters, that they were to be treated with respect. Nenthyris didn’t understand the fascination with humans. They were barely able to form words, from what she had heard. Stumbling, slobbering, stupid - but if they were all of those things, then why was it that so many fae were so - so captivated by them?

She knew fae that spent years in the human realms, toying with them, playing mind games and pulling tricks. What was the fun in messing with a creature that barely had enough awareness to give itself a name? Nenthyris was all for a little fun, but eventually it just seemed pointless. She could get more entertainment from another fae - how complex a mind game could a human even play?

But, eventually, her curiosity got the better of her. She took leave of the courts, of political machinations and riddle-rhymes and subtle insults wrapped in flowery words. She enjoyed it, yes, or she should have. But it had all become so boring, so repetitive, so tiresome. Routine. And humans, well, maybe they wouldn’t be quite as uninteresting as she had come to believe.

She hadn’t been in the human realms for long when she met her. Long dark hair, loosely bound near the end, tan skin, and golden eyes that looked at her with open curiosity. She wasn’t the first human Nenthyris had met by this point, no - she had played with some others, but so far no one had been any challenge at all. It was just as she thought - fae that wasted all their time manipulating humans were just as boring as the fae she had left behind in the courts.

At the very least, this one was something new. She was different from the other humans she had encountered so far - in appearance and demeanor both. This woman did not have to say a single word, but she had already caught her attention.

Though intrigued, Nenthyris doubted that this human could be very different from the others. The way she held herself boasted confidence, yes - but foolhardiness as well, surely. This human would be like the rest - undoubtedly she would give Nenthyris her name, or ask for a trade, or follow her dumbly back to the faewoods. It was inevitable, and there was no doubt in her mind that this woman would be just like the rest.

Nenthyris allowed the woman to approach her. Her sly grin blossomed into a welcoming smile, and she stepped forwards as well.

“Greetings, traveler,” Nenthyris began, voice sickly sweet and filled with a shallow warmth. “It has been some time since I have seen one of your kind come to visit this place. I would know who it is that has come to spend time with me. Give me your name?”

Nenthyris outstretched one hand, tendrils of fae magic invisibly curling over her fingers and wrist. It was a simple ploy, but one that most humans fell for. This would be easy.

Except it wasn’t.

Instead of handing off her name as others foolishly had before her, the woman smiled. She adjusted the bag across her chest, and from it retrieved a  loaf of bread, wrapped carefully in parchment to preserve its freshness. Then she turned back to Nenthyris, a cheerful light dancing in her eyes and the meal outstretched towards her.

“I can’t give you my name, because it is not mine to give. It was given to me by my mother, as a gift, and gifts given should be kept. But I can tell you that most call me Sarithsi, and you may call me by it as well. I can also tell you that bread is best eaten when you are not alone. Would you care to join me?”

Nenthyris was unable to keep the smile held in place on her lips, instead it drooped, slowly, like a wilting flower, as she stared incredulously at the bread, and then at the woman offering it. Sarithsi. Magic retreated back from her fingers, delicately winding its way back into her core, and Nenthyris carefully lowered her arm.

For the first time, Nenthyris was speechless.

When Nenthyris did not respond, Sarithsi shrugged her shoulders and tossed her bag down on the grass, before settling beside it with a soft thud. She began carefully unwrapping the bread, and as she did Nenthyris caught the scent of pumpkin and spices. She hadn’t eaten anything, in the human realms. She didn’t see a point to it. But for the first time, she was tempted.

As the woman unknowingly taunted the fae with the delicious smells coming from her bread, Sarithsi spoke up again, this time glancing at her from the corner of her eye with a mischievous grin.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to join me, even a shy stranger standing ominously over me is better than eating alone.”

Nenthyris fought off the urge to scowl, before gathering herself once again and making a bit of a hasty decision. But now this human was a challenge, or so she told herself, and so she would see it through.

“No, I will join you…Sarithsi.” Nenthyris settled down across from her with an intentionally eerie grace, trying to unnerve the woman, but Sarithsi didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she tore the loaf of bread in two, and without prompting, handed the larger half to the fae.

Nenthyris grabbed it on reflex, and then immediately cursed her own foolishness. What was she doing? Sharing food with a human on the ground in the middle of a forest? Accepting things thrust into her hands before first thinking through the ramifications, like some kind of…some kind of…

Nenthyris physically sagged a bit, staring down at her bread. She could have no debts, not even over something as insignificant as bread. She would have to give her something. Had she been outwitted so easily, so quickly?

Feeling almost physically pained, Nenthyris managed to choke out her next words.

“What would you like in return for this…meal?”

Sarithsi had her mouth full, but shook her head back and forth, and used her free hand to wave away Nenthyris’ words. Once she had swallowed, she smiled once again at Nenthyris, eyes shining.

“Nothing at all! I already told you, bread is best eaten when you aren’t alone. It’s a gift! Besides, I’ve also found bread to be one of the best ways to make new friends.”

Nenthyris knew that she probably looked like a fool, staring at the human as she was. Friends. This human, this woman, this Sarithsi, met a fae in the woods, and instead of allowing her name to be stolen, or even waiting for the next trick, had the opportunity for a boon from a fae, denied it, and offered friendship in the same breath.

And, looking into this Sarithsi’s eyes, she felt something odd seem to twang in her chest. She couldn’t identify the feeling. It wasn’t something familiar to her, so instead she turned to something that was. That one she let grow, let bubble up through her lungs and her throat and all the while this human woman just sat and ate her bread and acted like she had done nothing at all. Acted like she had not said anything so absolutely ridiculous, so absurd, so mocking and impossible-

Abruptly, Nenthyris stood up. She was infuriated.

“Do you not know what I am?” She demanded. The woman, Sarithsi, remained on the ground, wide-eyed, startled perhaps, but not scared. Not intimidated, like Nenthyris wanted her to be. Her aura was practically lashing the air around her, but still, Sarithsi remained confident. The lack of fear made Nenthyris boil.

“Do you not know what this is?” She hissed. Those golden eyes remained uncomprehending - and unafraid. “This!” Nenthyris said, angrily waving at the space between the two of them, and lacing her voice with as much venom as she could muster. “This, this is a battleground. My words are my weapons and you - you!”

But no words would come. Nenthyris threw her hands up in the air with a wordless shriek of frustration. No words would come. This human had barely spoken three sentences and yet - and yet!

And yet she had stolen the words from a fae. Every single thing she said was not how humans were supposed to act, supposed to be, and she had made a fool of Nenthyris a thousand times over already, outsmarted, outwitted, outmatched.

Finally, after a long, breathless moment, Nenthyris once again found her voice.

“I am a Fae.” She said, bringing her eyes back down from the sky, but choosing to glare at the bread and the grass and the woman’s sandals rather than her eyes. “I deceive, and I trick, and play games and take things like names, - but you have not allowed me to do any of these things. You gave me a gift, and I…”

The bubbling, boiling anger drained from her swiftly, but left behind that original twanging feeling in her chest. She continued to stare at the bread, now half crumbled, in the grass. She had crushed it and thrown it on the ground when she stood. She hadn’t realized. She felt like a fool.

And then, there was a hand on her shoulder. And Nenthyris looked up.

“I didn’t know what you were. But I didn’t think it mattered.” In her hands, Sarithsi held a piece of her half of the loaf, still uneaten. Nenthyris looked at the bread, and then back at the face of the human that had so quickly confounded her.

“But,” Sarithsi said, that same eager smile on her lips, “I do think I would like to know who you are. You have already explained what fae are, and what they do. What do you do? Who are you?”

Nenthyris spent a long moment, studying those eyes. She thought carefully, considered the way Sarithsi’s smile curved gently, and genuinely, and wondered about gifts and friendship instead words that were poised like weapons, and the willingness to do anything to be the one who got the last laugh.

Delicately, the fae took the bread from Sarithsi’s outstretched hand. She took a moment, cleared her throat, and then she met Sarithsi’s eyes once again.

“I…am Nenthyris. I think that I, would like to…get to know you, too. As a…friend?”

That time when Sarithsi smiled, Nenthyris had one that was just as blinding to match.

—

I know I went waaaaaaaaay over the time limit! But I was on a roll, and also I type and think veeeeery slowly lol. This is my first time doing a challenge, it was super fun! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :DDD

Edit: I ALSO POSTED IT WRONG THE FIRST TIME WHOOPS HERE WE GO

[ancient-depressed-druid]

Tyrus Week, Day One (Crush): Girls/Girls/Boys And Whatever More You Like

please read the whole thing, this is more about establishing TJ as a character and human being than just your average tyrus fluff since this is the part one of seven works set on the same timeline

Shit shit shit, fuck, fuck, shit TJ thought as he ran through the halls of Jefferson middle as if he had an angry mob behind him. His head filled with worry for all the suicide drills the coach was surely making his teammates run thanks to his lateness, he then groaned thinking about the complains he was to hear in the locker room after the practice, he felt like a shit of a captain, and all of that together will buffy leaving the team thanks to him.

Arriving at the gym, already wearing his basketball uniform, the boy quickly marched to the coach and his assistant, both looking at the team running back and front in the court.  

“Ah, kippen,” the coach said not even looking to Tj before he kept talking “you see, I thought you wanted to keep being team captain, but your actions don’t really show it… damned moment Slayer went away”.

Tj’s face contracted a little, but he swallowed his rude answer, Cyrus was trying to make him act a little better, instead, he only stood in front of the two men and pleaded “I'm so so sorry coach. My uncle was involved in a minor car accident and I got so worried I ran home without thinking and forgot about the practice. I'm so sorry,” tj gestured his hands to the court, were his teammates still ran those suicide laps please don’t take it out on them, they are not the one to blame, I am.”

The coach looked thoughtful before loudly blowing the whistle around his neck, the noise immediately stopping on their tracks and looking at the man. “alright boys, I'm sorry for making you run those laps, Kippen explained to me that he got a family emergency and couldn’t warn any of us” some of the boys groaned “anyways, you all can get your little revenge by separating into two teams and giving your best so that our game next Friday will be an absolute win, best team today doesn’t have to make three more laps after the game.” he blew the whistle again.

As Tj was turning to the court he added “seems like your actions do show you’re captain material,” the older man smirked a little “I'm gonna miss you next year, kippen. You’re one of the good ones.”Tj smiled widely and ran to the court, ready to play

.--

“YO KIPPEN!” Jack, one of the older boys o the team screamed after all of the boys had already taken their showers, screamed, attracting to himself the attention of the whole team “What really got you late, ay? Was it a girl?” after Tj’s silent answer ( his middle finger held at the other boy’s direction) he kept going “I betcha it was that redhead chick from science class that always asks you for help…”

“Uhhhhhhhhh” a collective chorus was heard throughout the locker room, followed by the laughs of most of his mates.  

“No, I betcha twas that blond chick from 7th grade, girl has a crush on him for months” another one chimed in, opening a cue to others to give their opinions too.

“Does she have a big chunk of tities?!”

“Nah, look at him, he's an ass man if I’ve ever seen one!”

“Guys, guys,” Tj tried to calm down the other players “I'm not dating anyone, stop that. And what does my personal life matters to you all so much?” he attempted to divert the conversation.

“Ohh yall see that? No chick puts him on a leash, he’s messing around with more than one girl. Leave some for us too.”

“YO Kippen is a playah!!” another boy joked.“Could you guys just shut up?!” the scream was heard all throughout the room, the whole team turned to see the origin of it.

Daniel Johnson, their most recent point guard since Slayer went away, was ready to explode. Hands held back by his sides in fists, back straight as a broomstick, head hung low and whole body shaking. He looked nothing like the friendly outgoing tall black kid most people knew him for.

“What’s the problem Dano?” one of the boys asked him

“The problem is that I'm tired,” Johnson stated in a firm voice, loud enough for the whole silent room to hear “I'm tired of this, not just the objectification of girls, but this whole shit.” he was looking at them in the eyes now “my problem is that everyone just assumes other peoples sexuality.” Daniel’s hands were pressed against his temples for a second “MY PROBLEM IS THAT EVERYONE IS STRAIGHT UNTIL PROVEN NOT THANKS TO THIS BULLSHIT HETERONORMATIVITY!”  the boy breathed deeply in the astonished silence of his team companions “I mean,” he tried to recover a little bit of control over his emotions “we only see him around slayers best friend, other than the team and his cousin”. The team kept silence for a little while before Tj broke it

“Johnson,” tj called him with the gentlest tone he could muster, a hand lightly resting on the shaking boy’s shoulder, he was almost as tall as Tj, but at that moment he looked smaller than all of them, as if he was trying to disappear from there all together “not to say everything you just said is not truth, I mean, you sure got a point on that, but,”

Tj hesitated a little, seeing the boy’s eyes fill with tears of fear, he stole a quick look at his teammates, almost all of them as worried for the boy as him. “ but, do you have something you want to tell us? If you do, I think most of us will be here for you, and if you don’t, if you're not ready to talk about it that’s alright, we’re just gonna forget it all happened and move on…”

“You think is that easy?!” his voice broke, hand smacking Tj’s own out of his shoulder “Fuck you! You have no idea what is like to be me. Is already hard enough to be a black kid in America this days, and to be a GAY black kid?” his entire body was shaking with the impact of his own words “my parents go to church every Sunday, they say people like me are abominations, and you want to tell me that everything is gonna be okay?!”

At this moment Daniel started to really cry, and in the middle of his sobs, his legs gave out a little. Tj and two other players took him to the nearest bench and sat him down, another one brought out a water bottle for the panicking boy.

 “Daniel, Danny boy” Justin, one of Daniel's closest friends inside the team squatted at Daniel’s feet and held both of his hands in an attempt to make eye contact his voice was as soft as silk as he talked with the other boy. “take real deep breaths and repeat with me Danny boy, one, twenty-two, six, eight, one thousand and nine, zero…”

Daniel repeated out loud the out of order numbers  for a couple of minutes, Justin seemed to have some kind of practice at this, cause his voice never altered itself, nor did he stopped coaching Daniel’s actions until he was sure the boy was not going to have a panic attack again for the time being.

“dude” one of the boys that were farthest from the whole issue started with a disgusted voice “don’t be too close, he may give you the gays. Or he may try to fondle you !”  

Before any of the other boys could do anything, Tj had grabbed the boy – Kyle Jones – by the front of his shirt and was holding him against the wall, fist prepared to hit its target and his own furious face inches apart from the younger boy frightened one.

“what did you say, you piece of sh…”

“that’s enough kippen!” the coach's voice was heard behind Tj, the blond boy hesitantly let go of the younger kid, but still didn’t fall back, face still menacingly close to the lanky boy, that was almost pissing himself of fear“ As much as I’d love to let you smash his face inside out, I can't bear to lose two players on the same day”  

And with that, Tj stepped back and looked at the older man, a smirk on his face that paired with the one on the wrinkled face before him. “but, but” Jones stammered in indignation “no buts, you little homophobic devil.” the coach said, voice sharp. He grabbed the kid by the ear and pulled him in front of him, facing the whole team he stated  

“This is no place for prejudicial people. if you want to act like that you’re out of the team, for good! Now move, we’re gonna have a long talk with the principal and your parents, you'll be lucky if you get out with just a suspension, and right before your finals.” Both man and child walked out of the locker room.

“By the way, congrats miller, you’re not on the bench anymore”

--

After all that chaos, Tj and a few other boys from the team went out with  Justin and Daniel to grab some food and talk a little. Tj had just got back home from The Spoon (his cousin discount was very useful at times) when he started thinking about Daniel's words, about how people really judged one another as straight until proven wrong.

Tj was glad for his mom and dad being at work (mom was a pediatrician and dad an architect and both worked late on Fridays to be able to spend most of the weekend focused on Tj ) otherwise he would have to explain to them why the sudden the sudden hunger strike even after arriving from a restaurant as he mindlessly opened the fridge and took out enough food to feed three people.

Thank the universe he practiced basketball frequently or he would be most certainly morbidly obese right now. As he stuffed his face with delicious food, the blond player started to recall his own crushes since he was little:

The first he could remember was Megan Cruz, a girl from his fourth-grade class that always wore pink and had blonde pigtails Tj earned to pull from the first day he saw her, and the first lesson tj learned about crushes on his life came just after he gave in to his childish desires and pulled said pigtails: be nice to your crush, otherwise they won't like you back.

The next one was a crush Tj didn’t even consider a crush until now, his fifth-grade classmate and almost best friend Freddie Wilson, a redhead freckled boy that always carried around a small camera to take pictures of things he found nice. Thinking now, Tj probably confused his feelings for friendship and never acted on them, happy to only be by the lanky boy’s side day by day, that is, until the boy’s father got a job at another state and they had to move away.

The following crush was on another girl, or Tj thought it was at first since Riley dressed in purple and wore skirts, that’s what girls did, right? And that was Tj’s first encounter with non-binary people, Riley didn’t like to be called a boy or a girl, they used both “boy” and “girl” clothes and had “boy” and “girl” toys. Tj attributed his crush to the androgynous appearance of Riley, however, the crush didn’t fade after discovering Riley was not a boy or a girl, it only vanished after the end of his sixth grade.

The last one of his crushes was Chloe Summers, a girl he met on a basketball summer camp at the beginning of seventh grade and his first and only relationship so far, she’s one year older than him but really shorter and smiled all the time. They dated for almost half a year after the eight-week camp and are to this time long-distance friends since she lived in LA and him in Shadyside. They both decided to be better of as friends after she started crushing on her best friend, Jordan, a relationship Tj fully supported and even got to know him on one of their monthly Skype sessions.

So that was it, two girls, one boy, and a non-binary person were all of TJ’s crushes till the present moment. What did it mean? He asked himself. That was the moment he realized he’s done eating his food since there was nothing more to eat without having to cook something from scratch. He was glad Friday was pizza day at his house…

--

Tj spent most of the night browsing on the internet in search for answers to his questions, but it wasn’t until Saturday morning he found his answer: he identified the most with the term pansexual. A person attracted to people not limited to biological sex, gender or gender identity, Google described what he pretty much felt.

He also got a little more interested on human rights and representation on the media, so much that he ended up discovering some celebrities that recently came out as pansexual, such as Janelle Monáe, Sia, and Brendon Urie, and got really into the Marvel character Deadpool, who also identifies as pansexual. Even though he had such examples, he knew most people wouldn’t know what pansexuality was (he himself didn’t know until hours before) since the majority of the population didn’t even believe bisexuality to be valid.

Johnson sure was right about heteronormativity societies. He was debating with himself what to do, should he come out now, he wasn’t afraid of people like Jones, but he sure was terrified of rejection from his parents and friends now that he didn’t just have dyscalculia, but also was not straight.

At least I don’t have a crush to worry about on top of all of that he thought to himself, but at that moment his phone beamed with a notification sound, he had a new message from Cyrus, and audio nonetheless. Tj pressed play to find out what his best friend could possibly want that early on a Saturday afternoon.

“Tj, sorry to bother you, but I just now got time to answer the question you sent yesterday about me going to the game…” Cyrus' voice sounded on TJs room, he sounded as if he was restraining himself from apologizing for hours. Tj felt his stomach sink in his belly at the thought of Cyrus not going to his last game on Jefferson middle.

“…and even though andi thinks I shouldn’t go after how you acted with Buffy, I’d be delighted to watch you play for our school for the last time.” there was a giggle at the younger boy’s voice that made Tj smile “so, see you at school on Monday? I know how your parents like to spend time with you whenever they can, so I'm not gonna bother you anymore for the time being” and that’s the end of the voice message.

Cyrus is going to my game Tj thought as he felt the small smile already present on his face widen into one that could only be described as a dumb smile, his palms were sweaty and his stomach now felt like it was full of those damn butterflies of the movies amber made him watch when they were little.

Remembering all the moments he shared with Cyrus up until now, he came to the conclusion that wasn’t the first time he felt like that at the presence, or mere mention of the boy. That cute dorky beautiful boy he would do anything to protect from the world around them, especially if it meant he’d have the chance to cradle his smaller, more delicate body into his arms, smell his amazing lavender and pine scent and maybe kiss those big oh so kissable lips and…

Fuck, not now, not this. He cursed himself inside his head. Not only had he realized his sexuality, he also realized his most recent crush, the only boy he sure would never have a chance with, even if he was not straight (what Tj was only 40% sure he wasn’t, thanks to his abundant talk about iris, his last girlfriend and how he would probably ruin any other relationship he’d have in the far future by embarrassing himself in front of them just like he did in front of the older girl whenever the subject of relationships came along) thanks to him being too friendly and straight up bullying said boy’s best friend.

Ughhh! I put myself into the friendzone and ended up with every chance I could have thanks to what I did to Slayer, I AM retarded after all. He damned himself for not realizing his feelings before when he maybe got a chance. He just hoped this would be a small, irrelevant crush that he could get over in no time, if not, he was sure it was going to hurt, but he would keep being Cyrus’ friend above all.

hope you guys like it see you tomorrow

[silverfall-patriarch]

A Father’s Bounty

Most people would assume a father to take umbrage with watching his daughter swept up in breathless affections with her fiancée’s.  I am expected to find something wrong with physical proof my daughter is loved well. They will assume I look away out of disgust or some prudish patriarchal view of the world, when in truth, I have no issues with the exuberant displays, as they speak to just how deeply Adilynia is in love with the men she intends to marry.

How could I find fault in this when I have prayed for her for so long? Is it not a father’s wish to see his children happy and loved for who they have grown up to be?  Am I not allowed to take pride in knowing my daughter has chosen good men that I feel secure in handing her care over to? She has and I do.

The invitation to dinner had not been expected, yet I can not help but feel it speaks to the caliber of character that the Marquis’ of Nishan possess.  I admit, I had my reservations when they first came to me in seeking to court my daughter, but my initial judgment proved to be too hasty. In my defense, it is a hard thing for a father to give the care and sheltering he has seen to for 153 years to another. However, at each and every turn, they have taken the greatest care with my Pixie and with kind gestures like this dinner, ensured that she and I do not grow apart.

I’m not the only one grateful for the chance to come to Nishan. Raelin’s had that goofy grin on his face now for near an hour, and even suffered through the tentacles without offending the whole room. Now, most might not see that as progress, but given my Captain is more akin to a Valhajar than Elf, if he’s not banging on tables and throwing ale mugs, we’ll call it a success where his manners are concerned. He’s on his best behavior for Pixie, for as much as he might like to turn her ears red, his good natured ribbing has only ever been used in the seamless bond they have. Addie is his last piece of Vynalia, and while he knows she isn’t her sister, he’s had as much a hand as I have in raising her up to stand on her own as a knight. He was just as proud as I was the day she won her first joust…and she just as trusting of him as the day she gave me a heart attack jumping from the roof of my forge.

To watch them now, squabbling like siblings and resorting to childish tongue sticking, fills my heart with more warmth than I have a right to feel for a man in mourning.  Would she not have wanted this though?  For me…us…to sit as a family and break bread over laughter and anecdotal offerings?  Would she look at me with those blue eyes of hers and tell me I’m doing right by her memory? Gods, I hope so…

“You’re going to want to see this” Thankfully, Lycan interrupts my downward spiral of self deprecation and guides me out to a small path as Raelin goes to work impressing the little ones with giggle inducing tales of Neris’s failed attempts at flying.

“And just what am I looki-“

The thought is left unfinished as the first inhale I take is laced with the smell of spices and vinegar that can only be one thing.

“KODO RIBS!” I knew it wouldn’t take long for Addie to sniff out her most favored meal, but I didn’t expect her to come barreling out of the house and burst into tears either.

“Pixie?”  It’s so out of character for her to be emotional, but I figure she’s gone through so many changes in the past year, at some point, her dam was going to break.

“T-h-hey made kodo ribs…” Some may have thought her antics a bit too dramatic for a meal, but most don’t get what they mean to her.  It isn’t just about the phenomenal taste with her, but that each bite reminds her of the days she used to go with Vinnie to track, hunt and field dress the beast. It was about the day of sitting by her side over roasting pits and diligently helping her turn the full size pieces when she feared the thought of being in a kitchen.  It’s why the blue ribbon for winning an eating contest is pinned to Vinnie’s sarcophagus under Light’s Hope.

“We sure did, Princess!” Lycan and Teren have been watching this play out with amused expressions, but only then does her brain catch up with the rest of her. She all but throws herself into their arms, half laughing, half crying… I’m not sure if Addie knows what to feel at this moment in time, but this just furthers proves the point that these are the right men for her. Even more so when their adoring smiles warm as she half dances and spins around the yard, only to break from that and return to kissing them both.  

I may not take issue with their overt affections, but a father certainly doesn’t need to bear witness to them either.

As I wander back inside, this warmth in my chest only grows and with it the self imposed guilt I’ve hidden well for months now. I didn’t have this feeling when I lost my wife; I mourned her for over a decade. Candaris died defending our city, and while her loss changed the course of my whole life, she died well and as she would have wanted to.

The same can not be said of my General. While I understand this was her sacrifice to make, and she did it on her terms…her death was not just or right. This world is darker for having lost her light, and it’s that knowledge with sees me more often than not, in my forge and lost to my own melancholy.  Now, I am haunted by her ghost in every rivet of Sanctuary City and break myself on my anvil in the hopes that I can complete the armor that will one day see her vindicated.  Even here, with the brother I sent my Pixie to protect as was her last wish; my heart still feels heavy and shattered every time I see their blue eyes.

“You need of the squeezings.”  Methuselah’s such a strange kid, but he’s got some of the most fantastic timing in the world. I don’t know if it’s some sort of weird magic or he’s just lucky; but whenever I descend down this shadows path of mourning, he pops up out of thin air and pulls me from my head.  I remember just how much he’s dealing with, and suddenly my own troubles don’t seem so consuming when I have to draw on my centuries as a father in helping him understand the tenuous relationship he has with his own.

Met’s got his arms around me before I can even figure out a reply, and I realize he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.  “I’m going to take a guess that things are better with your Heart and Soul?”

He really doesn’t have to answer as the smile he gives me says it all. “It is so!”

“Well that’s an answered prayer.”  It occurs to me, as I’m ruffling his dark hair and returning the ‘squeezings’ that sometime in the very near future, technically, Met will be my grandson by marriage. That little thought alone is enough to combat the shadows that are threatening my good mood and soon enough I’m smiling just as wide as he is. “Go on, grab your Heart and Soul and we’ll find our place at the table…” My voices lowers to a conspiring tone, as if some great mischief and secret is about to be revealed, “…right near the water with no sand.”

The next two hours pass in a blur of endless laughter, Raelin and Addie sniping at one another, and delicious food that I admit to overindulging in.  There is no doubt in my mind that this was one of the best meals I’d ever had, but the personal additions to the food were delightful surprises. Not only had Lord Kiden seen to making Addie’s favorite dish, but the delicate blue desserts in the shape of a rose sets my heart at ease in knowing that, while she might be absent on this plane, my Vynalia is never far from the hearts and minds of those that loved her the most.

Long after the forks have stopped moving and we’ve settled into glasses of nightwine and cocoa, the stories flow like water between those that haven’t sought the blissful reprieve of sleep.  I watch as Addie dozes with her head on Teren’s knee and Lycan combing her dark hair behind her ears while sprawled in his husband’s lap.  There is a peace and harmony between them that I have not seen my daughter be a part of in over a decade and I am once again secure in knowing she is where she is supposed to be.  I can rest easy knowing that my Pixie is loved beyond measure and cherished as the gift she is…and that I have seen my General’s last request granted.

(( @marquis-teren-kiden @marquis-lycan-kiden @maluraunderchild @doyle-ubu @khan-of-the-ruruan @lily-resa @ironbound-praetorium @lochlyn-kiden for the mentions))

[coffee-for-himchan]

Awkward(ly) Cute Family Dinner  & Festive Preparations Gone Wrong with B.A.P

(A/N) So.. Let’s rant.

I know I originally made a poll, but, like.. Never again. Now I kinda feel guilty, because there were people who voted for these two that didn’t win as well, and now I felt like I had to write these too. I intended to do both setsof scenarios today, but yesterday evening I got sick with a fever and a sore throat. So, because I’m not feeling all that well, I decided to do a half-and-half instead, with hyung line having one scenario and maknae line the other.

A bit of a rollercoaster ride, but I hope you like it!! ^.^

Awkward(ly) Cute Family Dinner - hyung line

-YONGGUK-

“(Y/N) has told us how you’re the one writing lyrics for your group, and for your solos as well.”

That was a good thing, right? He simply looked over, answering something among the lines of “Aah, yes” , and took another forkful of the delicious meal your mother had prepared for the dinner.

“Say, I have listened to a few of those.. Where do you get inspiration to write such things?”

He almost choked on his food then and there.

His brain refused to cooperate as he tried to think of the right words to say, but could only stutter in return. Oh god, we was so bad at leaving first impressions, and that’s what made him so nervous, because he couldn’t mess this one up.

“So yeah, there’s different types of songs. For, let’s say, Wake Me Up displays how unrighteous and emotionless modern society had become, drowning out all that is creative and replacing it by neat copies of the same factory-sealed views and beliefs.”

“On the other hand, something like X is about a cute date I’d planned with your daughter, yet the only thing that turned out to be cute about it was the weak and pouty voice she called me in next morning because she was unable to move or walk after a night like that-”

He felt your fingers intertwining with his under the table, and took it as a “babe, you’re thinking and not speaking again.” So, clearing his throat, he tried to speak. Appropriately this time, that is. 

“There’s two recent singles - Honeymoon and Hands Up. Honeymoon displays my views on how life should be treated as a colorful thing, and how troubles can always somehow be overcome. Hands Up, on the other hand, is about believing in yourself and your dreams which is what I’ve tried to do since early age. All those lyrics are really just my thoughts put out on paper. Nothing more and nothing less.”

And as your parents looked satisfied with the answer and even told him how they thought he was well worded and with a quite right perception of the world, he let out a quiet, barely-there relieved sigh.

“See? Ain’t that hard,” you whispered to him, hearing him chuckle.

“My brain went straight to thinking about X though-”

“Yongguk-ah, don’t you dare!”

-HIMCHAN-

His confidence had been drained today, which didn’t help at all.

His smiles only seemed half as charming, and you knew it was because he was stressed. He was usually good at meeting people and leaving good impressions. Always talkative and fun, but he had one slight issue that always haunted him.

A mind full of insecurity and fears of saying wrong things, because he often let questionable phrases slip here and there, making brows rise at his statements.

“Himchan-ah,” you saw your parents engaging in their own conversation, and leaned over to him, whispering his name two times before finally catching his attention.

“Hey, are you alright-”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” he tried to force a smile, but you knew him better. If there was no eye dimple on display, there was no real smile there either.

“Stop stressing about it. Everything’s going nice. Just be yourself and they’ll love you,” you told him, and he nodded, trying his best to believe.

“How’s the dinner?” your mother asked after a while, earning praise for having cooked a really nice meal.

“How are you managing living with her, Himchan? Last time I checked, (Y/N)’s cooking wasn’t all that good-”

“Mom!” you shouted back, yet everyone was already chuckling at you and your lack of cooking ability.

“It’s not the worst either, actually,” Himchan answered, and you were glad that at least someone was on your side, “But, whenever I have time, I’m usually the one cooking anyways. Or we both do it together.”

“Ooh,” you heard your mother say, and saw as she threw your father a glance, “Do you hear? And all you keep telling me is that men can’t cook, which is why you won’t even try. There’s living proof sitting right across of you that they can.”

Chuckles filled the room again as your father admitted he might’ve been wrong, and as you glanced over at Himchan, you figured he was getting a little bit more at ease with the situation.

He was smiling, and the eye dimple was on full display. So all was going uphill.

-DAEHYUN-

“You’re so quiet,” you poked his side, laughing a little too loud as he jumped and almost dropped his fork on the plate.

“(Y/N), do I really have to scold you for giving Daehyun a hard time!?” your mother who had seen it all rose a brow at you, and you let out a happy protesting sound.

“But mom! He’s being so quiet I have to do something about it!! He’s actually the opposite of how he’d acting now!”

“I’m just a little nervous, it’s nothing,” he smiled a heartwarming smile at your mother, trying to read her facial expression.

He was holding back so hard from being his regular self. He knew you adored loud, annoying Daehyun, but he knew that this personality of his might come off as too easy-going and not proper enough. And he wanted to leave the right first impression, really.

“Don’t be. In fact, I might know a way to make it a little easier for you.”

You and Daehyun both leaned in to listen carefully. Your mom was up to something, as the second she started talking, you wanted to vanish from the table. Fall through the ground  Run away in shame or something - it didn’t matter. As long as you would get away from there as soon as possible.

“The way she poked you like that - there was this boy once when they were still in elementary school, and she was head-over-heels crushing on him-”

“Noo, mom, stop right there!! Please!!”

“So, and she always poked him like this, magically thinking that it was a way of showing affection or something. I even got calls from the teachers to make her stop doing it, because she was annoying the poor lad so much he didn’t want to go to school-”

“Mooom, stop embarrassing me! I really didn’t know how love worked back then, okay!?” you cried out, hiding your face in your hands.

“Looks like you still don’t know how it works. You poke me all the time,” Daehyun chuckled, and your reflexes made you poke him so he would shut up.

Laughs filled the room at your initial reaction, and, even though you were beyond embarrassed, you saw how Daehyun was slowly turning to show his true colors. And that was all that mattered, even though it was achieved through digging up repressed memories.

Festive Preparations Gone Wrong - maknae line

-YOUNGJAE-

“Youngjae-ah.. What do you mean by “I kinda ruined the tree?””

“N-nothing,” he flashed you a smile, yet his frantic tries to not let you into the living room, blocking the door with his whole frame and outstretched hands made it pretty bloody obvious something had gone terribly wrong. If it wouldn’t have, he would be his normal, slightly cocky and charismatic self.

“It looks like you’re trying to hide something from me though,” you smirked, taking a step closer and seeing how he flinched a little, “Or are my eyes fooling me?”

“They probably are, because all is fine and I’m acting completely normal..” he looked away, scratching the back of his head and squirming when your arms wrapped around his neck lightly.

“You seem so tense,” you cooed at him, face at an inappropriately close distance, playing him in a way he never refused to be played because he loved it so damn much, “Let me help you with it.”

Without any chance to pull away - and without any desire to do so - he felt your lips pressing onto his in a soft and firm fashion at first. Yet as your hands tangled into his hair and your tongue moved mischievously, asking to be let in, he kind of lost control. His mind fogged, and he let himself be lead by you, not noticing how one of your hands sneakily trailed down his body and went past him, reaching for the door knob, opening the door without a single sound.

“How’s that?” you stared up at him with dreamy eyes, biting your lip to prevent any laughter from escaping you.

“Absolutely amazing-”

“Yeah, unlike your tree,” you said, and only now he realized you’d opened the door, and frantically turned around to face the living room, with you wrapping your arm around his waist and joining in.

“How did you even-”

“Don’t ask. I tried to place the star, and it wouldn’t stand straight. So I cut the tree a little, but it was still crooked when I put it on. And then I had to cut a few top branches, because it looked stupid, and… And yeah, here we are. I’m aware it looks stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he heard you say, and looked at you in confusion, “At least it’s original. I’ve never had such a weirdly shaped tree, but, like.. It’s fine. It will make me laugh out loud every time I look at it.”

“Thank god, I thought you’d kill me,” he sighed in relief, causing you to chuckle.

-JONGUP-

All went fine, until you heard a quiet, cracking noise. And all lights, accompanied by all electronics in the house, went out.

“Jongup-ah!!” you called for him, yet at the same time his name left your lips, you heard him groan in the other room.

“Jongup-ah, forget it,” you told him as you appeared in the living room doorway, your phone’s flashlight directed at his frame that was seated on the floor, tangled in Christmas lights.

“I told you that you can’t possibly put this many lights on at the same time.”

“Oh, I somehow will,” he sounded as annoyed as ever, and you only chuckled at him and his desperate tries to make the room look like Christmas paradise. Leaving him to be, you didn’t think much when you went back into the kitchen. You thought he would wander back outside to fix the electricity, and would come back to try and connect too many electronics for the electricity network to handle, constantly making it break down again. Yet as darkness was still there after circa ten minutes, you started worrying.

“Jongup-ah-” you had wandered outside to take a look at what he was doing just to see sparks flying everywhere out of the switchboard.

“Nope, nope, nope, forget it,” he quietly muttered and hurried over to your side, watching the last few sparks flying by and, as everything had gone silent, sighing in defeat.

“See, what did I tell you?”

“The truth, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head, peaking out of the doorway to throw the switchboard a final look, “But it doesn’t really matter. I messed up and we’re left without electricity for Christmas.”

He sighed, hanging his head down low. You could easily see right through him - he was blaming himself, which, to be honest, was right - he was to blame. Yet you didn’t want him to feel bad, because, after all, his intentions were good.

“Hey, look at it from the bright side,” you wrapped your arms around his waist, making him direct his full attention at you, “I have some lights that run on batteries lying around. And tons of candles. The dinner had been made already, and we can go have, like, a romantic meal or something instead of the regular boring Christmas dinner.”

And he looked beyond grateful for such a turn of events, giving you a sweet little kiss and tons of gratefulness in the form of hugs, “thank you’s” and smiles.

-JUNHONG-

“So.. How much do you love me?”

You looked at him, all alarms immediately kicking off at his innocently fluttering eyes and his little, mischievous smile

“I’m about to love you a little less than I did, or so it seems,” your stare that followed him around as he made his way to you looked suspicious, and he chuckled nervously, wrapping his arms around you and swinging your frames from side to side.

“You won’t,” he gave you a cute eskimo kiss before giving you the real thing, “You’ll always love me just as much.”

“Even after you..”

“.. Even after I burned the chicken in the oven.”

You groaned, hearing another nervous chuckle escape him. He was such.. Such a disaster in the kitchen. Why did you even leave him there to take care of dinner?

“Remind me again, why did I leave a kid unattended in the kitchen?” you questioned, seeing as he pouted at being called a kid, “Because I really don’t remember. Aah, Junhong-ah.. Why are you so.. I don’t know.. Clumsy? Inattentive? You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” he looked away, and you saw guilt straining his eyes, “I don’t know. It just happened, and I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I know you are,” you told him, scooting closer and burying your face in his chest as he smiled and tightened his grip, “I was just kinda looking forwards to chicken. But mistakes happen. Don’t break your head and heart over it.”

As you stood there with him, realization about something else hit you.

“Junhong-ah.. You did take the burned chicken out and turn off the oven, right?”

“I.. Guess,” he stared back cluelessly as you eyes widened, “I don’t remember.”

“You have to be kidding me,” you escaped his grip, hurrying to the kitchen in order to check and being closely followed by him and his stream of apologies.

“Junhong-ah, do you wanna burn the house down or what!?”

[apairofcrepeswiththerarestape]

TDANDJULLIETES, the last couple of weeks have not really been a great time for this project! I had to bake, something I'm evidentially not very good at, and nearly shattered myself making mayonnaise by hand, which was a fool's errand and possibly whitest thing I've ever done (and I've seen Pearl Jam many times). I needed an easy win, so I turned my eyes to something simple, just some damn steak cooked in butter. I had some great steaks thanks to my friends at Home Place Beef (look, if you find this pandering obnoxious send me some free stuff and I can start repping whatever you like!) so it was simple choice, plus I had friends coming over and for once I wanted to talk to people rather than listen to them from talk about things from the kitchen where I was closely watching some onions brown or some such bs. I did want to impress these friends a little so I picked a slightly fancier steak cooked in butter recipe than the basic one in Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. That's how I came to make Bifteck Saute Bercy aka Pan-Broiled Steak, with Shallot and White Wine Sauce! IT WAS VERY EASY AND THAT WAS A DAMN RELEIF!

I had to buy two shallots for this thing and that was it! I had the steaks already! I just had to defrost them and this time I put them on a plate rather than just on the refrigerator shelf thus preventing it from looking like a real Dexter situation in there (remember when Dexters walked the earth? I still think of that show when I tie my shoes, also how did that guy stay so thin when he ate ham and eggs for breakfast every morning?). I had butter and white wine and salt and pepper too so I was relaxed as hell before I made this. I was so relaxed as hell that I spent all day outside the house rather than pacing and looking at the recipe over and over to make sure I didn't forget anything. Unbeknownst to my guests, I breezed into my apartment merely a half hour before they were due to arrive (they were late, I wouldn't mention it if they hadn't said that actually in France it's polite to be late) with the knowledge that cooking this whole mess would take 20 minutes tops. I was cool and calm and unfortunately covered in horsefly bites but that is not really germane to this whole thing other than to let you know that you should never go outside.

I chopped up my shallots and and dried off my steaks, who knew that when I started this whole thing I'd spend so much time drying meat? I had no idea that one even had to dry meat in the past, most of the time I felt like cooking meat was pretty simple; remove meat from package (usually paper or plastic but occasionally that package is an actual cow), place meat on or in or near heat source, wait. Anyway, I dried the two steaks I had picked out of my lush Home Place Beef box (don't be gross), a strip and a ribeye that cumulatively weighed the 2+ a little bit pounds that were required from the recipe, and set them aside. I did not trim off the excess fat on the steaks as instructed because I was tired from being outside all day and if I'm going to eat some steak I might as well get some the delicious fat that comes with it. Our friends showed up and it was time to cook them.

Cooking steaks in butter is great and I have no idea why I've ever done any other way of cooking them. All you do is get 1 1/2 tablespoons each of oil and butter and then get that hot in a pan and then put your steaks in there. You can leave it in for a short as 3 minutes or as long as you want really depending on how much you want to cook them. I threw my very very dry steaks into that hot pan for 3 minutes and then flipped them over for another three minutes because I like some rare steak sometimes. Also people were over and one of them was instagram storying me and I did not want my nervous cooking stance displayed on the internet (why do you think these are never videos) so I wanted the whole thing over before. I removed the steaks from the pan and set them aside so I could make the sauce. I had a brief moment of panic as I could not find a vessel to pour the hot cooking fat into but then I realized we had many bowls and bowls are vessels. I blamed my relaxation for my mental lock and made a note to be more uptight next time. Next I dumped another tablespoon of butter into the pan with shallots and cooked that up for a minute. Then I poured in a 1/2 cup of white wine, scraping up the meat cooking leavings with a rubber spatula as it cooked. Now the recipe calls for one to boil the wine down rapidly but I'm very paranoid about ruining the fancy pans we got as a gift so I chickened out on the rapidly part of boiling it down. Eventually the stuff in the pan gained the mysterious viscosity of "almost syrup" and I took it off the heat. I stirred in 5 more tablespoon of butter because LET'S FUDGING LIVE and some parsley to offset the previous statement and then the sauce was done.

I poured the sauce over the steaks that had gotten a little cold because of my pan ruining fear based sauce making delay but you know what? IT DIDN'T MATTER, THE STEAKS WERE GOOD AS HELL! Cook your damn steaks in some freaking butter! You're making steak anyway ya big dummy! Ride that buttered steak all the way to the grave! We had a great time eating and talking and drinking the many bottles of wine that were brought and then they took me out to a local tiki bar and I drank too many tiki drinks and one of us got really mad about french fries and made another one of us got up to the food counter and tell the food providers about it and despite my slight embarrassment that person was right and we got some free fries and I was a little too drunk and then I wobbled home and felt like garbaggio for around 2 days afterwards! BUT THAT'S THE MARROW OF LIFE MY FELLOW DEAD POETS SOCIALATORS! So this is not just an endorsement of Bifteck Saute Bercy aka Pan-Broiled Steak, with Shallot and White Wine Sauce but also of having people over even if you all eat around a coffee table in your living room! SO DO BOTH OF THEM! MAYBE AT THE SAME TIME! ENJOY FOOD AND FELLOWSHIP! SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!

#tdandjulia #masteringtheartoffrenchcooking #juliachild #biftecksautebercy #panbroiledsteakwithshallotandwhitewinesauce #homeplacebeef #sendmestuff #aneasyone #nevergooutside #whendextersroamedtheearth #LETSFUDGINGLIVE #toomanytikidrinks 

[sserpente]

Condolescence (Chapter XIII)

Pairing: Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive) x OFC Language: English Rating: M

Read it on AO3!

It took Tallulah about a week to warm up again. Always cool and taking her distance, she spent a massive amount of time outside in the evening, when the sun set and Adam was still asleep, or in the kitchen to cook meals only she would be able to eat. It was eight days in total that passed until he first found her smiling again.

When the night was still young, the vampire would silently work on his music. He put headphones on whenever he did so, so he wouldn’t disturb Tal in her reading. For the time being, his battered and old editions of Shakespeare’s works seemed to be the only thing that could calm her down, for whenever he was near her, her heart would threaten to explode in her chest.

It was fear she felt, this much he could tell but behind it, hidden deep inside of her, there was affection. Affection that had drawn her back to him when she had found out about his being, affection that made her still care for him despite his unusual nutrition.

Over the last couple of days, she had asked him more and more questions that he had been all willing to answer. Once, they had even talked about Eve and her sister Ava. He had told her about Ian and how he wanted his music to be published but remain anonymous.

Tal hadn’t left him. She was still here and it ached him physically how grateful he was.

His thoughtful expression softening, he looked at her, watching her reading form on his couch. A blanket covered her feet, his book on her lap. Occasionally, she would lick her lips or frown at the words in front of her, now and then she flipped a page.

She is inhumanly beautiful, Adam thought as his long fingers traced the strings of one of his precious guitars. Her skin was perfect to him. All of her freckles and dimples, the way she bit her nails when she got excited. Her long hair shone in the dim light of his living room and it always smelled like roses—a shampoo she used every day—and her beige eyes, glistening with condolescence whenever they locked with his, appeared to be the only thing to keep him sane.

His blood rations were getting rare, the portions per day smaller. It would be so easy to approach her now, heave her into his arms or press her weak body into the mattress of his bed. He could hover above her, hunger, lust and desire prominent in his eyes as he would grab her wrists firmly and hold them tight over both sides of her head. He would lower his face to her petite neck, listening to how the blood rushed through her delicious veins as he would bite her, marking her as his and drinking her sweet blood until she fell asleep from exhaustion…

“Adam? Adam, are you okay?”

Breathing in sharply, he forced his gaze away from her skin, instead looked her right in the eye. Tal’s lips were parted, her expression worried as she shifted on the couch to properly face him.

“You were frozen in place like a statue,” she explained smiling, a light shrugging following. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The vampire nodded quickly, almost too fast. “I’m alright, sorry, I was… lost in thought, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You know maybe you should take a break, you’ve been working on this song for hours. We could play chess? I… I saw the chess board in your kitchen.”

“Do you know how to play?” He asked, surprised when he watched her nod.

“I used to play with my father when I was young. Back then I was obsessed with Harry Potter, so when Ron saved them all by playing strategically through the room, I told him that I wanted to learn how to do that as well.” She giggled then, the soft sound echoing through the room and ringing in his ears like a song.

Adam smirked. It was so much better when she was this carefree. “Let’s play then.”

Carefully, he put the guitar away and followed her into the kitchen, a little amused by how she dragged along the blanket to stay warm. He had already turned up the heat the other day, given he had heard her teeth clattering last night when she was asleep. Outside, it was getting colder and colder and soon, so he assumed, the first snow would fall. He needed her to stay warm.

“There is a job I would like to apply for. I found it online the other day, there was an interesting advertisement.” She said casually as she sat down at the kitchen table. Adam did the same and then, they started to play.

“That’s great, Tal,”

It was silent judgment he treated her with after, knowing that she was very well aware of his graciousness. Still, no matter, how hard he tried to convince her, she wanted to start working again so she would at least be able to pay for her own food. She was rather stubborn when it came to that matter and if anything, Adam admired her for that tenacious trait.

On the other hand, perhaps his muteness arose from his hunger that grew with every painful second that passed. He would have to feed soon.

“Do not let me win on purpose! I’m up for a challenge!” Tal complained. She giggled once more, moving one of her white pieces over the chess board in the process. He hadn’t even intended to but after he had made his next move, she would be able to beat her.

Frowning, he stared at the chess board as if it bore a solution for his aching problem.

“Checkmate,” The girl tilted her head slightly. “Adam, I don’t think you’re okay, you have centuries of practise and I’m an amateur. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me.”

He looked up then, hesitating. His canines pushed against his soft lips, threatening to break his own skin. When she flinched, he knew it had been a mistake to seek her company.

“Your eyes… they’re…” Not brown and not gold but something in between, the light blue of his iris had vanished. She had seen it before, knowing what it meant and still, she did not move. Was he using her powers on her, unwillingly? Had he already stunned her enough to claim his prey? No.

“Adam… w-when was the last time you fed?”

“Before I went to sleep... I had to ration it, there isn’t much left. I will have to get some more soon.” And I am hungry all the time when I’m near you. His voice was so quiet she barely heard it. Smooth but yet intimidating and somehow uneasy, it sent pleasant shivers down her spine instead of scaring her away.

She spoke the words before she could think them through, surprising both herself and the vampire before her.

“What if you… I mean… what if you fed from… from me?”

His eyes nearly seemed to pop out of his head then. Flinching himself now, he opened his mouth to reply but found nothing to say at first. Tal went on.

“I mean… I… guess I would be less scared of your… eating habits if I… a-and I trust you. Somehow. Somehow I still trust you. If you’re hungry… it looks like you’re suffering and if you’re hungry, then you could just—“

“No.” He suddenly snapped, making the girl flinch for the second time. “I will not… use you that way.” And I am not sure if I will be able to control myself, he added silently.

“I don’t mind! You said my blood wasn’t contaminated, so you could… you could drink it, right? Adam, you saved my life twice, you let me live with you and you pay for my food, if I can do anything for you in return, then I will do it!”

“You are a human being, Tallulah, not a living blood bag. I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“But I do. Please, Adam. Let’s try. If you… I mean if you don’t like it, then we don’t have to do it again.”

Like it? Could she possibly assume that he wouldn’t like it? Her blood tasted like liquid gold, filling him with energy and power unlike anything else he had ever tasted. The thought of him bringing his lips to her neck, kissing her soft skin lightly and then pressing his sharp teeth into her, breaking the skin, drawing blood… it drove him crazy.

“It’s not that,” he said calmly. “I might take too much. And I’d weaken you. Have you ever donated blood?”

Tal nodded, frowning as she did. “I have, once, in high school.”

“Then you know what it feels like. How draining it is. This can’t be healthy for you.”

“I mean… you won’t be drinking two litres at once, right?” Smiling almost mischievously, she leaned back, swallowing thickly.  Adam only growled.

“Tal, this is a bad idea.” He didn’t quite understand what had gotten into her. First she had been scared to the core, attempting to bring as much distance between them as possible and now she offered him her blood! Her delicious, sweet and tempting blood…

The vampire shook himself. Maybe if he took one sip, only one… it would be enough to satisfy his hunger until he could feed on some of his blood rations in the cellar again.

“You should go to sleep,” He said then, cursing himself for his egoistic thoughts. He wanted this—more than anything and yet, it was way too risky. He’d never forgive himself if Tal suffered because of his nature. “I can tell you’re tired.”

“You are, too.” She replied, the smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes. Hesitating, she got up but instead of heading downstairs to seek out her bedroom, she went straight to Adam’s living room and started towards his bed.

Clenching at one of the wooden bedposts, she waited for him to follow her.

She really wanted to do this, offering herself like a lab rat, like an experiment. Was she thinking so little of herself or did she really… want to help him? Ease the aching of his canines against his flesh and the burning hunger within him?

He fought with himself, coming up with dozens of scenarios where something could go wrong, one worse than the other. But Tal… she wasn’t scared, not too much, at least. She was standing there, that calming expression on her face he loved so much as her beige eyes locked with his, inviting him closer until their bodies were almost touching. Slowly—so slowly he questioned if he was moving at all, Adam brought his soft lips to her neck and took a deep breath.

➡️ Find all chapters on my masterlist!

[escapefromarchoncastle]

Chapter Four - A Feast Fit for a King

Terry grinned, his heart practically soaring up into the vaulted ceiling. The dining hall was exactly how he’d imagined. Weaponry and ancient tapestries of glorious battle scenes hung on the whitewashed walls. Above, iron chandeliers holding massive white candles hung on thick chains from the massive beams. It was as if he’d walked straight into a George Martin novel. Everyone seated on long wooden benches flanking the trestle tables gave the room a festive atmosphere that reminded him of being at a giant picnic. As he ambled around in search of somewhere to sit, he could practically smell mead and roast boar.

Katya sat alone beneath a tapestry of some man getting a sword thrust into his chest. She flashed him a nervous smile, which he took as a welcome to join her. At the other end of the dining hall, he spotted Stevenus The Chosen One taking a seat across from the same four mean girls. “I went to sit with them and they told me to go away,” Katya whispered bitterly. “They were saving the seat for him.”

“I’m sorry.” Terry reached his hand out to touch hers, but pulled back before their fingers made contact. If his dad or mum were here, they’d be telling him to go sit with the Chosen One and the mean girls, and try making friends with them.

Katya hunched her shoulders. “It’s okay. My mum says they’re all fat with three kids, a cheating husband, and a boring office job by the time they get to her age.”

He chuckled. His own mum was how he’d always imagined mean girls turned out, until one day when his Gran showed him old school photos of her with braces, thick glasses and a woolly perm. All the popular jocks in her class had since turned out to be balding underemployed losers who installed drywall for cash. Stevenus, Terry suspected, would win at life regardless. The easy charm the blond Adonis showed to the four girls watching him tell a story would serve him well in any situation.

“He’s really gorgeous,” Katya mumbled, gazing wistfully at him and deaf to Terry’s sigh. Not that he was interested in her, either, but did she have to make it so obvious?

“Hi!” The boy with the pudding bowl haircut took a spot on the bench across the table from Terry. Perfect, just perfect. So much for forming a semi-decent first impression around the more popular kids. The boy stretched out his hand. “I’m Pudding Bowl!”

Terry glanced sideways at Katya, who’d taken to studying the tapestry on the wall as if she had to memorise every detail for a quiz.

“That’s … your name?” Terry asked, shaking his hand limply.

“Nah, but I hear kids mumble it often enough that I figured I’d own it.” He sat, grinning a grin of tiny teeth. Since none were missing, Terry guessed he was somewhere around his own age, just unusually small. He hadn’t yet figured out whether the boy was “special” or just had a very strange sense of humour.

“What’s your actual name?” Terry asked. The boy scowled and shook his head violently from side to side. Perfect, he was being befriended by a nut-job. He already didn’t like Stevenus, but he could see why the others were crowding around him.

“No one gets my real name—it’s dangerous!” Pudding Bowl clutched Terry’s shoulder for balance as he leaned across the table. He dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “People can curse you if they know your real name!” He sat back down, folded his arms, and nodded sagely.

Terry was still trying to figure out some way to respond when everyone stopped talking. A tall set of wooden doors at one end of the hall flew open. Martin the Magnificent came in through the archway. If tension were measured in decibels, the speakers had just blown. He wore a glimmering burgundy robe and carried a gold scepter in his hand. It was topped with a crystal globe that scattered the candlelight like a disco ball. His voice carried loud and clear to Terry’s ears: “Welcome to your first meal at Archon Castle, where you will be sampling the outcome of today’s alchemical processes. It is here that miracles happen. Proceed.”

Martin the Magnificent whirled back out, the doors shuddering closed behind him. Seconds later on the opposite side of the room, the doors from the kitchens burst open. The tiny black-robed people—swarms of them—came out and laid down platters of roast beef and chicken, cauldrons of stew and soup, plates piled high with baby potatoes and corn-on-the-cob, baskets of fresh bread, then bowls of salad and fruit all along the length of each table.

Terry eagerly watched the platters being set down in front of him, so many delicious smells mingling together. They were going to eat what they'd spent the past several hours preparing. Take that, Katya! He helped himself to beef and barley stew, a slab of steaming pumpernickel bread, a thick slice of roast beef, gravy, two cobs of corn, roast potatoes, and a chicken breast. He even braved a piece of broccoli and some green beans.

“I can’t believe we’re getting to eat all this!” Katya stared wide-eyed at the steaming dishes.

Terry couldn’t understand why she needed to say every thought aloud, especially since every other person in earshot was probably thinking the exact same thing. Thankfully that was all she said and they tucked in. For the first while, the only sounds were cutlery clattering on plates, smacking lips, and the odd whisper to pass something along. In no time he was helping himself to seconds, then thirds. In his exhaustion from today’s labour, he hadn’t realised how starving he was.

While trimming a rind of fat from his roast beef, he watched a dozen or so neophytes near Stevenus whispering excitedly. Stevenus lifted his fork and knife into the air, clicked them together, and uttered something Terry couldn't hear. Going by the way his lips were moving, it was around seven or eight syllables.

"Ooh, now I don't have to pick at the bones," a blonde girl squealed.

"Can you do that for me, too?" a darker girl asked.

"Show off." Pudding Bowl tapped Terry’s hand. "Watch," he said, his brows knitted over the indented bridge of his turned-up nose. He'd loaded some peas into his spoon and he aimed his mini catapult straight at The Chosen One. He sent them soaring. Like military planes in formation, the five peas split apart, bopping Stevenus and each of the girls on the head.

"Ow!" said one of the blonde girls, though a pea couldn't possibly have hurt her.

Terry shrunk in his seat; all five glowered straight at him. Pudding Bowl crammed his hands under his thighs and was staring at his plate as if it was the first time he'd ever encountered a chicken leg and was expected to dissect it for science class.

"YOU," Steven Stevenus said, rising from the bench. Everyone in the dining hall turned to stare at Terry. He wanted to blurt out that it wasn’t his fault, but found himself frozen in fear. "Have absolutely fantastic aim. I am impressed."

"Thank you," Pudding Bowl said, bowing his head. Terry wavered between joining in the laughter and throttling the boy’s skinny neck.

"However, I recommend your future targets be directed elsewhere, hm? I'm not someone you wish to cross," Stevenus said with the grace of a king.

"Yes sir." The boy nodded like his head was on springs.

"Absolutely," Terry said, suspecting in Stevenus's eyes he was guilty by proximity.

Before sitting again, Stevenus smiled at Katya. She blushed and turned her face down.

"Why are girls always like that?" Pudding bowl whispered to Terry, who threw up his hands in frustration. There were nearly a hundred boys in the room and all the girls were pining after the exact same one. To take his mind off of it, he snagged the last piece of chicken breast on the platter between them, and the second last bread roll.

By the time Terry was done eating, he was ready to pass out for weeks. His stomach felt as if it were about to explode into his throat. The little people in black robes cleared the plates away and he gazed around at the other similarly over-sated neophytes. A smirk spread on his lips as he watched two of the mean girls surreptitiously unbuttoning waistbands underneath their robes. His sister always did that, and he found himself missing her, of all people. He never thought he would.

After supper, they were reacquainted with their lessons on the elements of water and earth via washing up the dishes and cutlery and cooking pots, then mopping all the floors.

By the time they reached their bundles of straw in the stable, most of them were too tired to talk or do anything apart from lie down. Miss Huston told them they were to rise at dawn and meet in the courtyard next to the keep. She switched the lights off and left. Terry lay on his back, sinking in and out of consciousness as if he were floating on ocean waves.

“Hey! Psst!” Katya hissed.

He rolled onto his side to face her. Now that he’d roused, every muscle in his body ached. What he would give right now to be sinking into the hot tub on his parent’s deck right about now.

“Don’t you find it odd we were allowed to eat all that food tonight? It must have cost them a fortune!”

Terry widened his eyes and hunched his shoulders exaggeratedly so she’d be able to see his reaction even in the faint starlight coming in through the high, barred windows.

“I’ll bet we only get to eat like this once and maybe some other time at random,” she whispered, “so that we don’t think to pull pranks or slip poison into any of it.”

“Why would anyone do that?” he asked, his voice husky from trying to keep it down. What a dreadful thought.

“Watch.” With that, she flopped onto her stomach and faced away from him.

“You watch,” he said, not caring whether she heard him or not. He still wavered between fancying her and telling her to go jump in the moat. “Today was just a test for us. Tomorrow we’ll be learning magic for real. You’ll see.”

[k-renne]

III

Chapter III

Previously: I, II

a/n: angst!!! sorry guys

When you opened your eyes the next morning you felt something warm and heavy resting against you, oh right, Kylo. You suddenly felt hot, you were in a bed with a man and a very handsome one at that. You tried to wiggle free from his grasp only to still when you felt something, was that…

You almost jumped out of bed when you realized, as Kyo rolled over on his back and murmured something intelligible, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to the chest and rubbing his face against it almost…affectionately. If it weren’t for his sizeable bulge staring right at you this display could almost be considered, cute.

Later Kylo woke to the smell of something sweet, something cooking, along with a raging hard on. He rubbed his eyes and sat up as a pan sizzled in the background. He looked at the clock, he had to have slept ten hours, amazing as he hasn’t slept that long in years. Looking down he sighed, every damn morning. He took care of himself quickly before he would see you, washing his hands and throwing on a black robe.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” He asks you. If you were closer, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck, but that’d be too much…inappropriate. He shouldn’t get too close to you because he knew he’d be tempted to do those things.

“Making breakfast.” You say as you flip a pancake.

“Impressive,” Kylo hums. He gets a few plates out and sets the table; beginning to make some freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Oh you have oranges! And hey, I can do that,” You offer. Oranges weren’t common in these parts this time of year, not unless you had connections.

“Shh, let me help. You shouldn’t be cooking as it is; you’re my guest. Besides, it’s faster this way.” He points out. Plus he felt too antsy just to watch you, hands itching to help. He was a man of action and he didn’t need to sit back while others did the work.

“Fine, fine,” You sigh.

Kylo and you fight over who gets to serve the plate, and with a gentle shove you win, smirking at him as you get his food. “I haven’t had pancakes since I was a boy,” Kylo remarks.

“Really? They’re so easy to make, why not?”

Kylo is silent to reply, not wanting to delve into his childhood. “I just wouldn’t think to make them that’s all,” He finally says. You decide not to probe him further, guessing it was a touchy subject. “These are delicious by the way, thank you Y/N,” Kylo compliments. You added bits of chocolate that melted in his mouth, he savored every bite. The fact that you had made a meal for him was absolutely precious.

“It’s the least I could do after you took care of me, I should be the one thanking you,”

Kylo’s face falls, “Don’t say that, it’s too generous. You should never have suffered that much, I could’ve prevented that.”

“You still probably saved my life Kylo, besides I can hardly remember anything it’s all a blur,” You lied. You would never forget that pain, but you didn’t want Kylo to feel guilty about that.

“Anyways, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome and I feel well enough to be on my way,” You stand up. Kylo wants to stop you, to ask for another day to spend with you but he knows you’re right. He couldn’t keep you away forever.

“Wait, I have a few things for you before you leave.” He fetches a basket full of various gifts, from protective charms to exotic fruits from his garden.

“Kylo, this is too much, I can’t accept this,” You’re taken aback by his generosity. Though men had given gifts in the past, in an obvious manner to gain your affection, it was never as genuine as this.

“Please take it, besides there’s some more protective charms in there and at least for my sake I’d like you to have them.”

“Okay,” You nod, taking the basket. “So I guess this is goodbye?”

“I’d much rather say see you later Y/N, I hope that you’d come by for a visit sometime.” He doesn’t want to say goodbye, not to you.  

You think you’d like to visit him and learn more about him. Plus, he lives in a nice part of the forest, right at the base of the mountainside and near a cool lake. You’d definitely come here, though you were worried that coming by yourself was dangerous and not for the reasons one would normally think.

“Why don’t we walk back together?” You suggest.

Kylo almost sighs in relief, “Yes, I’ll make sure you get back safely.” He leads you out the door with his hand on the small on your back. You walk back together in silence, Kylo tries many times to strike a conversation but can’t seem to find the right words. But he doesn’t mind being quiet with you, listening to your crunching steps against the forest floor.

Rey, one of your good friends has been searching for you as you had mysteriously disappeared. You had been gone for almost a week now and she was pretty worried, she couldn’t find you, and all she did find were traces of your blood. Though she hadn’t given up yet, you weren’t dead and she could feel it.

“Y/N,” She calls for you, seeing you through the trees. Who she doesn’t see is Kylo, not at first. She comes running towards you, only to stop when she sees the man besides you. “Kylo,” She says his name like a curse.

Kylo frowns deeply, it was his cousin; the one who had made a fool of him and who probably hated him. This was not good; he needed to leave. “Y/N, it seems like it’s my time to go, goodbye my dear,” He whispers to you. Before Rey can reach him and sock him in the nose, he’s gone.

“Dammit, I let him get away!”

“Rey, what are you doing?” You ask. You weren’t aware of their family history, and who Kylo truly was, nor were you aware that Rey was also a witch. “Y/N I thought you were dead, lets go inside I need to hear everything that happened.”

You prepare some tea for you and Rey, “So just why exactly were you with the Nightshade Witch, did he kidnap you?” She pipes in. Rey did not like seeing you in the hands of the enemy, and she was deeply worried for you. She particularly did not like how his hand was on you, how you were seemingly unaware of his probably malicious intentions. She shuddered even thinking about it, your parents had kept you in the dark for far too long.

“The Nightshade Witch? Kylo is the Nightshade witch?” You knew who the Nightshade Witch was; everyone in the village knew that name. But you didn’t understand how someone who had been so kind to you could be the man your family called a monster.

“You didn’t know, he must’ve cast some sort of spell on you,” Rey searched your face, looking for any signs.

Fear wracked your brain, you had been out for a while he could have done anything. “Hey Y/N, don’t panic I can help. I’m also a witch, except unlike Ren I practice light magic,” Rey soothes your worries. You weakly smile back, you were quickly getting sucked into the world that everyone had tried to keep you away from.

“But Rey, I don’t know…he saved me,” You doubted that he was the monster everyone made him out to be, but you also doubted that he was as nice as he seemed. Certainly he could wield powerful magic with those hands. There was also a darkness that seemed to follow him, and now upon reflection it was quite obvious.

“He probably did something for you,” She scoffs. Rey couldn’t believe that Ren had any good in him, despite what Leia said. Though, she couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with you.

“Please, let me explain,” You begin to tell her about Hux, and the old woman you met in the woods. You see Rey’s face turn pale.

“Y/N, this is much worse than I thought, I can’t believe you’re even alive,” Rey shakes her head.

“First, we’re going to get you some strong defenses-“

You interrupt her; placing the contents of the baskets on the table, “Kylo gave me a few things-“ It’s your turn to get cut off.

“Second, we’re throwing all of those away, and third I need you to stay far far away from Kylo,” She finished. “You may think he was kind to you but I promise it’s all for selfish reasons, and if you get close to him he will hurt you. His anger controls him,” Rey warns.

You think back to this morning, all those nights where he watched over you, eyes filled with concern. To think that you couldn’t see him again; made you feel very upset. But then again you still felt weak, you didn’t know if your body could stand that type of pain again. Maybe one day you’d visit him, to the behest of Rey, but for now you needed time to heal.

“Okay,” You nod, quickly grabbing one of Kylo’s gifts as her head is turned. It was a small black box with a black ribbon around it, you didn’t know what was inside but you at least wanted the box itself as a reminder of your friend.

After that day, it seemed as if the world was hell bent on keeping you away from Kylo. More of your friends and family would talk about him, speaking of some of the horrible curses that he’s put on people. You didn’t really believe it so much from your family because they were completely biased against witches, but when everyone else included Rey was saying the same things it was hard not to ignore their warnings.

Perhaps it was best if you just stayed away, and forget about him and hopefully he would do the same. That’s what you kept on telling yourself, and each day that passed made it easier to accept. Kylo Ren was dangerous and you needed to stay away from him, for your own sake.

Yet, one day you open the box, out of sheer curiosity. It’s a pin with a cube of flourite attached. Forgetting who it was from, you pin it to your dress, it was quite beautiful. Though something about the box was familiar.

Swamped by work and determined to get revenge, Kylo hadn’t noticed how much time had passed since the last time he saw you. It wasn’t until he stumbled upon some of your clothing that you left behind that he realized. Worry overcame him, were you okay? He hadn’t seen you in…weeks, how could he know. He was angry, you said you would visit and he had relied on that.

After saving your life, he’d think that you’d at least give him that request. Anger replaced worry, completely forgetting what happened with Rey. In his eyes you had no excuse for this, and it felt like you had used him. Mostly, he was hurt and offended. Did he disgust you? He needed to hear whatever excuse you’d give for such cruel treatment, putting on his robes he headed out the door.

Much to his chagrin, it just had to start pouring when he stepped out the door. Nonetheless he kept going, he couldn’t let a little rain stop him. Kylo sulked in his misery all the way over to your house, grumbling under his breath about how you lied to him. He had been so kind to you, taken great risks to save you, he wanted your attention and love, not this cold treatment. What happened to the sweet girl cooking for him? Maybe he had taken your kindness for granted.

Loud knocks on your door startled you, as you would never expect a visitor in this weather. You looked out the window, nervous to see Kylo standing there. He was completely soaked too, this did not look good. You could see him frowning from under his hood, you had a bad feeling about this.

You opened the door, not given much time to say hello before Kylo bursts in, dramatically taking his robe off and leaving it on the floor. “You! Where have you been?” He pointed a finger in accusation at you. “Fine, if you’re going to stare at me at least get me a towel.”

You’re taken aback, “Well that was rude,” You say to yourself, still grabbing him a towel anyways.

“Uh, would you like some tea?” You try and play host, to soothe his brazen anger. You knew why he was mad, but you didn’t know if he would accept your explanation.  

“Something herbal if you have it, no chamomile.” You already have some hot water ready, and make him your favorite orange spice blend.

“Careful it’s hot,” You say. Kylo only glowers at you, blowing before taking a sip. Of course, he burns his tongue. He blames you.

“So, just what has kept you from visiting me for this long?” Kylo presses.

You sigh and shake your head, “You’re dangerous,” You state. Kylo scoffs at you, dangerous? When he had done nothing but protect you, preposterous.

“I saved your life.” He snarled. This anger, it was something Rey warned you about. Kylo sees you visibly tense, hand gripping the couch cushion. Fear, you were afraid. You were afraid of him.

“I should leave,” Kylo admits defeat. You swear you can see his bottom lip quiver when speaks, and his eyes no longer look angry, they’ve turned teary. You want to say ‘stay’, but he’s gone before you can stop him.

Stay away from her, she’s right. You didn’t deserve her anyways, Kylo thought to himself. He wiped wetness from his face and it wasn’t the rain.

[withlovefromlina-blog]

Budget and Boujee

Unless you’re my mom or dad reading this you’re most likely familiar with the 2016 hit by Migos called Bad and Boujee, and have probably heard the basic definition of the expression Bad and Boujee from Urban Dictionary. If not, take a quick pause, pull up a new browser and get acquainted. 

I started today, February 5th, being back on my own again after having spent a fun filled week in Tulum with two of my Canadian friends. I also started being back on my budget! The joke of the week with my friends was when I shared with them my ambitious goal of a 100 MXN a day budget I had been working towards up until their arrival. We thought we were on the same page over our first lunch when they also said 100, but we quickly burst into laughter when we realized I was talking Mexican pesos and they were talking Canadian dollars!

Rewind to before this last year, I’d been blessed with a career that provided me with a healthy flow of dispensable income, and never really thought twice about the small luxuries I afforded myself. Needless to say my friends and I shared this same blessing/trait/bad habit.

But things have changed, and I’ve been out of the employment world for about one year now, and I’ve had to make adjustments in my lifestyle and habits. People often ask me how I am able to afford to do what I’m doing. Now as much as I didn’t worry about money, I never got myself into debt, and was still able to save along the way. 

In addition I sold a property and many of my belongings, so I have some relative wiggle room while I gallivant the world. But I have become frugal and do my very best to get by with a lot less than I used to. I like a challenge and it’s almost become a bit of a game each day to see how well I can do. Mind you, I tend to be very good at finding great deals and yummy meals so I don’t always feel like I’m missing out!

That is until…..friends who are still in the world of employment pop into town!

Then I have a hard time keeping the boujee side under wraps.

But here’s what I’ve learnt, it’s possible to bad, boujee AND on a budget!

No doubt, money can be spent easily in Tulum. From the hippie chic boutiques, to the beach front hotels, to the endless 5 star restaurants and cocktail hideaways in the jungle, you can eat, drink and shop your way through any budget without even leaving the beach strip. We definitely tried to have a balance, and stay within our pre-determined budgets, but…you can’t win ‘em all, can ya!

That being said, I found that if I kept my fridge stocked with a few basics, and didn’t over-eat the way I so frequently did back in North Amercia..budget Mexico Lina is very achievable. My Air Bnb’s come with filtered water and coffee which get me through the morning. A salad made at home for either lunch or dinner makes sure I have a good 100 MXN a day for a meal out! 

And so far in downtown Tulum these are my fav spots that are in line with the “budget” give or take a peso or two.

Burritos from the street corner down the block from the main park..yup that’s all I got for you direction wise. He’s the only one who advertises Vegan and Vegetarian! 75 MXN

Gluten free Vegan option from Burrito Amore - 120 MXN

Pizza from Il Bacaro - 200 MXN

Thai food from Thai Tulum - great pad thai - 90 MXN, Massive veggie filled spring rolls - 80 MXN

Vegan Tacos from La Hoja Verde, huge potion with a very very generous topping of guacamole - 90 MXN

Stir Fry Veggies, Tofu and Rice Noodles from Uno Japanese Noodle - 100 MXN

From the local street vendors I got mango, avocado, cucumber, lettuce, onion, zucchini, bananas, carrots, apples, limes and hibiscus flowers for about 250 MXN and this lasted me all week!

Because I did tacos so much within the first few weeks, I actually seemed to avoid most tacos here in Tulum, but there are plenty of options near the main park on Tulum Avenida and down most side streets if you are adventurous to wander a bit.

Splurgy Eats on the beach - A bit more Boujee

Rosanegra, this place was amazing from the moment we walked in. The detail in the decor, the lighting, the artwork, the bathroom experience which ended in free champagne! And the music all created a very cool vibe. We shared appy’s of salmon coconut ceviche, spicy street corn, chargrilled calamari and burrata plate with arugula, but anything here looks amazing!

Mezzanine for Thai food, only for the money bags! Pun intended, it’s the name of an appetizer. We also shared pad thai which was delicious and served in a beautiful banana leaf.

ARCA and Hartwood are other must try’s for which we had many recommendations for but unfortunately missed out on these.

We didn’t drink much alcohol in Tulum, but there are a number of places that do happy hour and two for ones so you can try and find those if you’re feeling like having a drink!

A few of my other practices when I’m on my own that tend to keep expenses down are:

Filtered water versus still or sparkling bottled

Shared colectivo, bike or walk versus taxi

Sand versus beach chair

Re-usable water bottle

Staying away from the shops! (I have zero space for anything extra so this one hasn’t proven to be too difficult yet)

Getting out and in with the sun, for safety reasons but also I find this regulates my eating habits

Making something with the local produce that feels like a treat so you’re not tempted to grab a cold beer, I am working with hibiscus flower fresh brew tea these days!

Sticking to local shops and street food (I must admit I seem to be able to stomach almost anything on my travels and some aren’t so lucky, so be easy on this one and feel it out for you!) versus restaurants. That is until I found the pizza that dreams are made of….so I had it one last time today before I move on from Tulum tomorrow!

Doing my own laundry, as long as the weather cooperates for drying!

Self taught yoga and workouts

Food and budgets aside, we rocked our colourful beach wear, bandanas, braids and bold lips! We adventured, we biked, we swam with the fish in the cenote (after a long mental battle on the part of some as the steps into the water were swarming with the fish, and these fish were the nibble your feet and body kind of fish!), and we ate fish (not the same fish although that would have made the fear factor very ironic!). 

We called the Cenote “chay-notay” because it so easily slipped off the tongue as we longed for cold Italian sodas. We got pooped on by pigeons as the crowds around us yelled reassuringly that it was good luck! We spoiled ourselves yet kept finances top of mind, and boy oh boy did we laugh. We took turns at being the voice of sanity, reason, adventure and motivation.

What I love so much about the dynamic the three of us have together is that it’s 100% real. Wacky and fun and real. We say how we feel and what we think, even if it’s not pretty, politically correct or what the other might want to hear. It’s real and it comes from a place of love. You always know where you stand, and this creates trust. We talked business ideas, furthering education and general future plans. It made me think of how lucky we are to have the space and freedom to draft the blueprints of our futures.

We nursed sun burns and all too anxious minds. We took time out’s as needed: walks on the beach, Oprah/Eckhart Tolle podcasts, and some good old Tibetan singing bowl meditation music. Of course we took selfies, and took turns getting just the right portrait shot. Which I must admit I am grateful for as I mostly have scenery shots when I travel alone! I will miss their company to say the least. But, as the sign in the magical jungle read, KEEP GOING, and this is what I’ll do. Feeling grateful and feeling the love for my Canadian friends.

For me right now financially, it’s really a mind set. As much as I want to keep a safety net ready and waiting for the next downpayment on a home, or for whatever else might lay ahead, I know money comes and money goes but time cannot be recovered. I also know (and am kindly reminded by the cheerleaders around me), I worked very hard for the past decade, and I now have the means and time to live out a dream and to truly be alive in such beautiful places. Work, and therefore more money, is definitely in the near future but for now I know I can balance between budget and and a little boujee just fine.

So if you’re looking to do Tulum on a budget, splurge a little, or do a combination of the two, just give me a holler, I’ll give you the scoop.

Just for giggles:

Rain drop,  Drop top

We did Tulum in flip flops

Rain drop, Drop top

You aint nothin without your crop top

With All the Love From Lina #badandboujee

[jedifighterpilot2727]

How do you think Lena's apartment will look like?

I’m baaaaccckkkk!

So this turned into a whole thing! hope it isn’t too descriptive for a whole chapter but I thought I’d try it!

   She doesn’t know what she expected Lena’s apartment to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this.

It makes sense, in retrospect, considering how soft Lena is around her; but it definitely doesn’t mesh with hardass CEO Lena.

She steps in hesitantly, even though Lena had called for her to come in - it still feels odd, just walking in. She can hear Lena getting ready back in the bedroom, the soft click of cosmetic cases.

“Just make yourself at home! I’l be right out!” Lena calls out and she finally allows herself to glance around as she toes off her shoes to add to the pile in the entryway.

The foyer is wide with a coat rack by the door, and to the right is the kitchen, all stainless steel and granite. It’s large, a chef’s kitchen, she thinks; and she smiles, wondering if Lena cooks. Her stomach grumbles hungrily and she steps forward into the living room.

It’s cozy, that’s her first thought, as she takes in the fluffy throw blanket tossed across the back of the couch and the stack of books on the end table. She steps forward to take a closer look, feeling a bit nosy but not feeling too bad about it - Lena had said to make herself at home after all. There are two engineering books and one on physics; but there’s also a dog-eared copy of ‘The Princess Diarist’ and Catco’s latest edition folded to the page of Kara’s article that makes her smile.

She had expected the walls to be blank and cold - not that Lena was blank or cold, but her office was always a little dark, a little sterile. Her apartment is still dark, but holds no such sterility, the walls covered in amateur photographs - no doubt Lena’s own work- from all around the world. There’s a bookshelf packed full of books, some of them crammed slightly sideways to make room. All the classics are present, and a few titles Kara’s never heard of that she makes a note to check out later. Several of the books are in French, and she shivers as she remembers what the language sounds like rolling off Lena’s tongue.

Shaking her head, she moves to the window, admiring the view of National City. She runs her fingers gently along the sill, trying to judge how hard it would be to make a Supergirl landing through the window. It would be tight, but she could make it work.

“Kara?”

Lena’s voice calling from down the hall startles her from her musings.

“Yes?”

“Do you mind giving me a hand?”

“I’ll be right there!” She calls back, making her way towards the sound of Lena’s heart beat. There are dark sconces along the hall, casting fake candle light across the walls. She passes a bathroom and a home office - much different than Lena’s work office, she notes as she glances in briefly. It’s messy, in a seemingly organized kind of way, with diagrams and plans and post-it notes tacked around the room and stacks of paper scattered on the mahogany top desk.

She resists the urge to curl up in the overstuffed armchair in the corner, instead continuing down the hall the the master bedroom.

She needn’t have worried about making it in the living room window.

The entire side wall of the bedroom is glass, with a wide french door leading out to a gigantic balcony. The view is stunning, possibly even more so than the one from Lena’s office; and she stops, entranced by the way the setting sun dances light across the buildings.

“Kara?”

She jolts from her reverie and turns to see Lena smirking at her.

“Like what you see?”

“Mmm, I have to say I like this view better.” She teases back, running a finger along the dress strap that’s half falling off Lena’s shoulder.

“Zip me up?”

Kara steps behind her girlfriend and gathers up the mass of dark hair to one side before bending to press a fluttering kiss to the spot where Lena’s neck meets her shoulder. Lena shudders under the touch and she moves her hands to the other woman’s hips before pressing another, firmer kiss to her neck.

“Kara.” it comes out as a whine. “We aren’t going to make our reservations if you keep that up.”

“Maybe I don’t want to make our dinner reservations.”

“Wouldn’t-“ Lena gasps as Kara’s teeth scrape just below her earlobe. “Wouldn’t it be more enjoyable to watch me in this dress from across the table, eat delicious food, then ravish me for hours?”

“Well, when you put it like that… “ She pulls back to close the zipper on Lena’s dress before wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and settling her chin in the crook of her shoulder.

“You have a nice apartment, I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I mean I know we usually meet at your office or my place, but we’ve been dating for almost two months!“

Lena stiffens slightly before wrapping her arms around Kara’s and pulling her closer.

“No one’s ever been to my apartment, actually.”

“No one?”

Lena shakes her head.

“I’ve had food delivered a few times but that’s about it.”

Kara doesn’t really know what to say to that, but it doesn’t matter because Lena quickly continues.

“I just have to keep such a different persona as the CEO of L-Corp. I want to distance myself from the Luthors, but at the same time that appeal is a lot of what draws people to the company. This place is  … purely Lena. I’m always afraid that if people really see me then …”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but Kara know what she’s trying to say, knows the fear of someone rejecting you for who you really are.So she pulls Lena closer, gazing out at the city in front of them.

“Well, for the record, I love it, just like I love you.” The words are still new, but they fall from her lips without hesitation.They stand for a long moment before the painting at the end of the bed catches her eye.

It’s Krypton, shaded in the light of a red sun, and she knows the painting, because she painted it; had sold it to a gallery weeks ago.

Lena must follow her line of sight, because she’s immediately apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I just saw it at the little gallery on 12th and I saw the little K.D. in the corner, knew it must have been yours - must have been Krypton and I just wanted to wake up to see what you used to see.”

“No, no, that’s …  it’s perfect. And it matches the decor, so that a plus.” She gestures around the room at the gray walls and the dark bedspread, considering how the painting must look shaded in grey to Lena’s colorblind eyes.

As it is, it’s the only pop of color in the room, and it makes her warm to think of Krypton like that. A bright color in a sea of grey.

She moves to the bed and lets herself fall back on it, the mass of pillows swallowing her up.

“Are we going to get to play on this later?”

“Only if we actually make it to dinner.” Lena jabs and Kara laughs before rolling over, coming face to face with her own eyes as she studies the framed picture on the nightstand.

It’s of her and Lena, cheeks smushed together as they crowd in for the shot, whipped cream on their noses and smiles on their faces.

“Did I mention this place has overstuffed ravioli? I know you love overstuffed ravioli!”

Lena is just baiting her now, but she takes it, along with the offered hand and pulls herself to her feet.

“Well in that case, lead the way!”

“You just want me to go first so you can stare at my ass!”

“There are many perks to dating you, and your great ass is just one of them!”

Lena laughs but obliges, swinging her hips a little extra for show.

“Now that’s not fair at all!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.” Lena’s voice is low and flirty and Kara can’t help but groan. She isn’t sure if she’ll ever be able to win at this little game.

“Just wait until I get through with this ravioli you’ve been raving about! Then I’ll show you what’s fair!”

Lena laughs, and Kara can’t help but grin, glancing around the apartment as they leave it. She thinks about what Lena had said, about how she’s the first to visit. It hasn’t always been easy, getting Lena to open up, but it’s always been worth it.

[the-vaporverse]

Starless Horizon RP File #23

(Vela’s part in italics.)

Vela was a little disappointed that Orion had even managed to get Fera out into a place he obviously didn't want to be; the sneer on the prince's face as they approached was a little too telling when it came to what he must think of it. He was looking as immaculate as ever in pristine white, cringing away from every surface as though it might get him dirty, even though he was staying awfully close to Orion, who hadn't changed from his slightly greasy jumpsuit.

"Hey, you two," Orion greeted them fondly, though Fera only stared. "Nice night, huh? I... well, Dritz, I know you had something to ask Fera, so I brought him for you. I dunno if you want to speak alone? I can probably take Vela to show her some more of the human food stalls around here. I'm good at finding them." He was chuckling weakly, but Fera had a pointed glare which he was currently dividing between Dritz and Vela.

As always, the dinner Dritz and Vela had was delicious, and the atmosphere full of cheerful conversation, though as the time of their meeting with Orion and Fera drew closer, there was something of a cloud over Vela, albeit a small one. Miniscule, really. He knew she never liked seeing Fera, though, so it was understandable.

As they approached, Dritz beamed, waving, "Ah, the most handsome pair of gentlemen I have ever seen together." His smile turned into more of a smirk as he was met with one glare, and one delightful grin that matched his own.

"Actually, yes, I did want to ask your lovely royal datemate something," he chuckled, sweeping an arm around Fera, taking care not to touch his lovely white clothing, "Be a gentleman to my lovely flower, though, okay? We won't be long!" Quickly, he leaned over to Vela and gave her a gentle kiss before turning back to Fera, "A drink, perhaps?"

Holding himself quite stiffly, especially as Dritz moved an arm around him (thankfully not touching him), Fera couldn't stop glaring. He was angry with Orion for making him come here, angry with Dritz for wanting to speak with him, and angry at the Vela for... for existing and using her horrible magic on anyone she came near. Since she obviously was.

A little part of him, the rational side, was telling him that he shouldn't be so harsh on them all. They were trying to be friendly, and Orion had tried so hard lately to make him happy, which wasn't an easy task. Of course, it shouldn't ever be an easy task to make a prince happy, but that was beside the point. As usual, his stubborn and irrational side was winning out.

He cringed back to see Dritz kiss the Vela, then sneered at the idea of Orion being a gentleman toward her, though he naturally would. In a brief moment of horror, he realized now might be the time she could sink her evil claws into his lover, but Orion whisked her off so fast there was no time for him to protest this sudden plan.

"A drink," he snapped icily. "Fine. It had better be a nice one." If he was going to have to put up with whatever nonsense this was, he had better get a start toward becoming slightly inebriated in the bargain.

Dritz, trusting his knowledge from last time, confidently ordered a small bottle of Verrian champagne, despite the raised eyebrow from the barman. It wasn't necessarily the very nicest drink available in the galaxy, but it ranked well on the station; a seemingly crystal clear alcohol with, if one looked carefully, flecks of glittering rose gold. If Verrians did one thing right, it was decadence.

He poured the bottle into the wide, shallow glass provided and handed it to Fera with a smile that could be considered mildly flirtatious, but was simply his attempt to warm the prince to him.

"Now that you have something befitting, I'd like to invite you," he said in an easy, warm tone, "To... Come shopping with me. Ori mentioned to me, though it was already clear to me, that we have a mutual love of fashion. I'd really enjoy it if we could maybe do a bit of browsing together sometime, maybe you could even give me some advice. What do you think?"

First things first, of course: Verrian champagne was absolutely marvelous. Fera sipped at it daintily, hardly even noticing Dritz as he spoke, but the words slowly began to register. Then he had to set the glass down and stare.

"You are not being serious. Are you? Is this a joke at my expense?" Dritz started assuring him it was not, and Fera sighed loudly to interrupt. "I hardly think our taste in fashion is at all similar. What benefit is there to us browsing together? And what sort of advice could I possibly give you? Coronal and Chrysalan fashion-" he sniffed haughtily "-might as well be different as night and day."

If he had to be honest (and he wasn't about to be publicly), he thought that all sorts of fashion were at least a little intriguing. In fact, there were times when he actually thought about learning more, but generally thought it would require too much work. He resumed sipping from his glass, though he glared over the rim at Dritz as though to challenge him to come up with a satisfactory answer to his questions.

Dritz smiled earnestly, "It's not a joke. Fashion as self expression is still like, really, really new to Chrysala, so no one I know really gets why I love it so much. Even my little sisters find it a bit weird." He shrugged, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Honestly? I think you'd know more about it than me. Maybe I could learn more about what... Goes with what? You know? Don't you think you'd have fun too? We could go in any shops you like. And it'd be nice to have someone there when I find something really unflattering to laugh at!" This was something that Dritz didn't really like admitting, but sometimes he would find an item even he disliked, and it would amuse him. He'd often thought it might be fun to gather up the most ridiculous things he could find and try them all on at once.

"C'mon, I bet we'd have a good time."

Fera shrugged, trying to feel irritated instead of intrigued. It confused him why he was even contemplating spending any time with Dritz, who he had mostly thought of as an annoyance before, even as he had somehow almost wanted to spend more time around him. He wasn't the worst. He might even be alright. Sort of.

In the end, it was the lure of being able to discuss fashion and shop with someone else with the same interest. That's all it was, not even the slightest interest in becoming a friend to Dritz, none at all.

"Fine," he said shortly, continuing to sip his drink in the pause after. "It's not like Orion's really interested in doing the same with me. You've seen how he dresses," he continued with a sigh. Those drab jumpsuits were nearly intolerable. Fera was certain that if he was a little more shallow, he would drop the human over that.

Going with Dritz would allow him to learn more about how the Chrysalan chose to express himself through fashion, something more interesting than he ever might have imagined it could be. Maybe he could learn more about why his planet was new to the idea as well. "The day after tomorrow," he announced abruptly, draining his glass in another swallow. "I'm free then. At least a few hours before the shops close at night." He stood, looking away from Dritz. "For the drink... thank you."

It wasn't like him to show much gratitude to anyone. He nearly tried to stride off dramatically, but then realized they both had to find Orion and the Vela together, resulting in him just standing there in a maddeningly awkward way as he waited for Dritz to join him.

Dritz beamed, giving Fera's shoulder a brief squeeze, "Yay! I'll be there! Thanks, it's gunna be amazing."

He rambled excitedly for a moment, about which of the shops might be the best while he grabbed a soft drink to go from the man behind the bar, before he realised Fera was waiting on him. "Sorry. Hey, though, I don't think Orion looks bad in his overalls or anything. Do you? I think he looks handsome; it says something to still look desirable in workwear. Most folk, when they're covered in engine oil or dirt and grime and stuff, they don't look their best. Even if they look hardworking, and that's a good thing. But I think Ori almost looks better. More like himself, maybe?"

After a beat, he added, "You make a pretty cute pair, actually!"

Fera stayed icily silent as Dritz rambled, one eyebrow twitching in irritation every now and then. Why had he agreed to spend more time with this individual, exactly?

"Don't look at him like that," he finally said in suspicion, protective of Orion immediately. "Of course he's handsome no matter what, otherwise I would have no interest in him. Chrysalan have multiple partners, don't they? You had better not be getting ideas. Orion is mine."

He hadn't meant to sound so possessive, but losing the human was an odd fear of his. He had never been so invested in one person before, and had in fact been on a long series of one night stands for quite some time now. To hear Dritz describe them as a "cute pair" made his emotions churn in a way which he had never experienced in his life.

It was with great relief that he hurried to Orion's side when they found the others. The Vela similarly moved quickly to Dritz with a worried look on her face. But what did she have to be so worried about when she was the one who might have used some of her mysterious signs on Orion?

While it was unlike him, Dritz bristled, but kept his voice as cheerful as he could, "I'm not his type, and I'm not the same as the rest of my people. I can appreciate how someone looks without wanting to bed them, prince." Feeling a pang of mischievousness, he added in a lighter, flirty tone, "Yourself, for example."

When they were reunited with their respective loves, Dritz threw his arms around Vela, scooping her up with ease and nuzzling her neck, "Hiya, flower, have fun?" He whispered with a comically exaggerated pout, "You better not be leaving me for a certain handsome human now." Something about what Fera had said was still niggling in the back of his mind, and he found he couldn't let Vela go right away. He clung to her for a few minutes more, her feet dangling only an inch or two off the floor, given their similar height, fully appreciating her slight body heat, delicate smell, the softness of her hair as it brushed against one of his antennae. He didn't want anyone tainting what they had.

Vela couldn't figure out why Fera had such an appalled and disturbed look on his face when the others came back, but returned Dritz's hug immediately, clinging back to him as he seemed to want to hold her for quite a while. She shook her head as he whispered, wondering why he would ask such a thing, certain his talk with Fera had not gone well at all.

So she was quick to rush along their farewells and get Dritz to herself again, turning to face him and sign. [What is it? Did he say or do something horrible?] She couldn't help herself as she reached out to fiddle with the hem of shirt again, fretting and concerned as she watched him closely.

Dritz had been fairly accepting that they would need to make some polite conversation for a while before they left, but Vela somehow ushered them through some goodbyes in an expertly swift way. It was clear she and Orion had maybe managed to speak a little, and Dritz translated for her when there was any lack of understanding.

Once they were alone, he found Vela looking incredibly concerned, gently twisting his shirt in her fingers.

"Oh... no, not really," he said cheerily. "It's silly... he thought that, just because other Chrysalans have a lot of partners, and that I told him Orion was handsome, I was going to try and, I dunno, seduce his boyfriend or something." Dritz sighed, stroking Vela's arm. "Not everyone on Chrysala has several partners. I mean, it's the norm, but it doesn't mean the same for all of us... I know it's not what I want..."

Vela listened closely, first a little alarmed, then relaxing as Dritz explained further. Strangely enough, it had been the same thought which had crossed her mind not too long ago, and to hear there was nothing to worry about was rather comforting.

[I see,] she signed, letting go of his shirt and giving him a little smile. She didn't feel like telling him what she had worried about, but thought she might press a bit further to be sure. [But why wouldn't you want more partners? Maybe there's a benefit you haven't thought of. It might be that they could provide some things which I might not be able to.] While she wasn't sure what those things might be, she did want to be certain Dritz knew what he was doing and not making the decision just for her sake.

Dritz seemed more confused than distressed by this point, shaking his head.

"I know what I want out of a relationship, any relationship, and that's a companion. Someone to share things with, someone to lavish affection on, and someone who works with me on everything. Some of my people don't find what they want in just one partner. My mum, for example... She has another partner just for discussions. They cuddle and share drinks, and have deep, philosophical conversation. The most physical they'll be is tender kisses. But... I can't think of a single aspect of what I think I need that isn't being fulfilled by you," he said. Not normally awkward, Dritz's manner was soft, quiet. "So... Why would I seek someone else just so I could seem 'normal' to Chrysala?"

Her own expression softening further, Vela found she had no answer for Dritz immediately. Instead she put her arms around him, squeezing as tight as she dared and resting her face against his neck for a long moment. When she finally pulled back, her smile was a little wider.

[You don't have to look, then. And neither do I, you give me all I need. All the things I never knew I wanted, but now that I'm experiencing them... I don't want to do without.] She leaned up to kiss him, her gaze lingering over his face until she was ready to sign again.

[But what did happen with Fera, then? Are you going shopping with him?] She almost found she wanted to start fidgeting with Dritz's shirt again once she remembered the main point of the evening, but managed to hold herself back.

Dritz squeezed back with a slight but pleased little chirp, grinning.

"Oh, heh, yeah. I'm not sure he's too happy about going with me, but he had every chance to say no, and he didn't do it, sooo..." he shrugged, shaking his head. "He clearly just needs some persuading, I predict we will be the very best of friends by the end of our shopping trip." He gave Vela a wink, "After all, how could he not enjoy time with me?"

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, "So what about you? Have fun with Ori?"

Vela wondered why Fera would agree if he didn't seem happy about the plan. Was he plotting something awful for Dritz? It appeared she had more worrying to do, with this information not settling her fears at all. They would not be best friends by then, of that she was certain.

[It was alright,] she signed hesitantly in response to Dritz's question. The truth was she had been so busy fretting that she had paid little attention to anything the human tried to show her. [There were some other places selling food exclusively from Earth, so we should try them sometime. And while you're shopping with Fera, I should teach Orion how to sign a little.. it would be easier.]

She took Dritz by the hand then as he talked to her, gently maneuvering them through the streets as quickly as she could manage, wanting to forget about that situation for now.

-

Early the next morning, Vela found herself trying to prod Dritz awake. It was their first day of working, and she wondered if he was dreaming, as it was proving more difficult than normal to rouse him.

Eventually she let her hand slip down to his ticklish side, a slight smile rising as she ran her fingers across it.

That evening, Vela did not seem particularly settled, but Dritz put it down to her having not really enjoyed any interaction with Fera, which... was entirely understandable. He knew she liked Orion well enough, which was reassuring, but he wondered what it would take for the prince of Coronus to apologise and atone for his behaviour towards Vela, and similarly what it would take for her to forgive him. She wasn't unreasonable, but he certainly was, from what Dritz had seen.

Their night was relaxed, something they always seemed to need after time with or around Fera, and they curled up close together, agreeing to try some Earth cuisine sometime soon.

-

The first thing Dritz was aware of, though only vaguely, and through a fog of deep slumber, was something against his side. With his mind thick with sleep, it didn't register properly, and he batted at it lazily. The sensation persisted and he tensed, a low buzz in his throat that turned into a desperate yelp/giggle.

When Dritz sleepily tried to push her hand away, Vela only smiled wider and reached around him to drag her fingers along his side even more. He began laughing, almost in his sleep, though he was coming out of it quicker the more she continued. The sounds he was making caused her to wish she could laugh too, a genuine feeling of mirth which rose up in her chest and wanted to spill over.

[We have to go to work,] she signed when she thought he could see her properly, even if he was still giggling after she took her hands away. [You wouldn't wake up, so... I'm sorry to do that.] Her smile indicated she wasn't really too sorry, and she leaned over him for a quick, almost playful kiss.

Dritz chirped happily, rubbing his eyes as he looked up at Vela. All in all, even with the tickling, it was not a bad way to be woken up. Not at all.

As she leaned over, however, he pulled her down with a grin, rolling the two of them to one side and kissing her deeply, thinking they surely had enough time for a little playful cuddle. In one smooth motion, as he rolled them to one side, he carefully climbed over her and out of bed, kissing her again.

"Thanks for waking me, flower. I would have woken up in time, but I wouldn't have had a lot of time to adjust. I've never yet been late for work, but-" he scrunched his nose up, laughing, "I have turned up half asleep, still. So this is better. Even if I don't approve of being tickled awake."

He grinned and dressed quickly, in his overalls, which still had a pleasant, if faint, hint of the smell of the plants on Trelos. "We should grab something quick to eat on the way, there's no use starting work on an empty stomach."

Dritz pulling her down and kissing her unexpectedly did startle Vela a little bit, but she was soon smiling again. She nestled against him warmly until he rolled out of bed on her other side, then sat up.

Her normal eye bright, she watched Dritz as he dressed and rambled to her. While he said he didn't approve of this method of being awoken, she couldn't help but want to try again and see what might happen a second time. She had an excited feeling about getting to their new job, one which mingled with a little anxiety. Suppose she wasn't very good at it? But Dritz would teach her, obviously it would all be fine.

Of course she had dressed hours before, in closer-fitting clothing than she might normally choose, thinking loose items would be more likely to catch on objects if she had to get near them. It was easy to agree they needed to eat something, and they headed out to one of the food stalls closest to the docking area, which sold convenient "pockets" of bread filled with vegetables or fruit. These were eaten along the way, and the freighter came into view just as Vela was taking her last bite.

By now, the anxiety was edging out the excitement. She stood close to Dritz even when Lis appeared to greet them, beaming in a friendly way. "Good morning! Very punctual, that's good. I'll take you inside and show you where to start. Orion's already here, and I've put you all together in one of the sub-engine rooms for now. I'll need to do just a little observing to make sure you can handle it, first," she added with a wink.

Dritz was more energetic than usual, a spring in his step as they made their way down to meet Lis. There really was nothing for him quite like going to a new job or fresh work, with a full stomach, early in the morning. The fact that he was getting to share that feeling with Vela only added to the experience.

"Good morning! You should know this about me, Lis; I love to work, and you won't ever find me late," he said brightly, putting an arm around Vela, "Glad to hear Orio is already here, Vela and I are ready to work hard with whatever you give us." He glanced at her with a reassuring smile, "We can handle anything, and you'll definitely see that in your observations."

"That's very reassuring," Lis replied, beginning to lead them through the maze of corridors in the freighter. "Of course, I already had faith, being recommended by someone like Orion, and being a Chrysalan, who are generally quite good with mechanical matters if they have a mind to specialize in them. I'm beyond thrilled with all of my hires on this job, it's such a big one! Two weeks with a team of twelve, that's all the time I've been given but I'm sure we can do it."

Vela remained close by Dritz's side as she listened to him talk back and forth with Lis, her sharp mind for details already committing their path to the sub-engine room to memory. It wouldn't take her too long to be familiar with the layout of the entire ship, if they got to be shown much of it, at least.

Orion gave them a friendly and enthusiastic greeting upon their arrival, making Vela relax a bit further. She did like the human, much as she was beginning to associate him with Fera now.

"Alright, lady and gentlemen," Lis said in a louder tone, seeming to be ready for them to get down to serious work. "I don't need an example from Orion, who's already working on getting the exterior generator repaired. What I want from Dritz is to show me how fast he can fix the main connection to the sub-engine, here." She opened a large panel along the side of one wall, showing an obvious engine but a mess of wires which Vela honestly thought was a little intimidating. "That is, how fast you can fix it while teaching your lovely companion to do it along the way. Now that's a real test." She paused to laugh a moment, though she didn't look worried about it. "One of the fuses is split, if that helps for a start. Probably, anyway. I didn't take a close enough look at it."

She stepped back and let Dritz take over, with Vela cautiously approaching near the engine to watch.

"Lis, my dear, you have no idea how easy a test this will be for her," Dritz announced proudly as he rolled his sleeves up, flexing his fingers and looking at the mess of mechanical insides. "My flower here will have this memorised in no time."

He pulled out his multitool and a small device for testing the functionality of the systems, kneeling in front of the opening. "Good morning, love. I'm Dritz, this is Vela, and we'll be trying to fix your split fuse. No, we will be fixing your split fuse. It's Vela's first time, so don't be difficult, okay​?" he said to the ship as he started uncasing areas and running wire tests, beckoning Vela closer and talking her through every process. Occasionally he would hand her the multitool and have her test things herself, or affix the simpler parts together.

Within maybe fifteen minutes it was complete, but it was an additional ten while Dritz made certain he was happy with their work. Turning to Lis, he shrugged, "How'd we do? I'm excited to know!"

On her part, Vela focused very hard on following what Dritz was doing, listening to his explanations and cautiously following his instructions when he handed her the multitool or showed her how to perform other actions. She wanted to complete the work quickly and impress Lis, but at the same time she knew it would mean nothing if it wasn't done right in the first place.

Once they were done, Dritz was checking it over, and she even followed along with that as best as she could. With an anxious expression she turned to see what Lis thought.

"Well, well," the woman said thoughtfully, her arms folded as she studied what they had done. "I'm impressed again. You kept up a good speed and fixed it all thoroughly, even double checking, without getting too distracted by anything else. Unless, this was all simply because I was watching." She winked at them, showing she wasn't serious about that part, and Vela relaxed. "But I may have to copy your way of talking to the parts first. I'm thinking it must add a secret benefit to your work that I'd never considered before. Good job, both of you. I'm more than satisfied, and I'll take you on to the main course, so to speak."

She began leading them out of the room again, along with Orion, who had also finished his work and hung back to talk to them in a low voice. "You really impressed her, I can tell even without her saying. I admit I was trying to watch and work at the same time, though I did finish my own correctly," he chuckled. "I think we're getting assigned to something really good." Intrigued, Vela nevertheless remained close to Dritz as they walked, feeling more confident but still needing the extra boost of security.

Dritz chortled with absolutely no embarrassment to realise he'd been speaking to the machinery. Oftentimes, he'd just... do it without really thinking. "It's always worked well for me," he said with a wink back at Lis.

Much as Dritz liked to be modest in his work, it always made his heart sing to hear he'd done a good job, or he'd impressed someone. Then, he was sure that came with the work ethic his family, and his people in general had. Working hard and knowing you'd done a good job of something was surely rewarding no matter who you were, though.

"Oh yeah? I look forward to learning more, then," he said with a grin, leaning in to speak quietly to Orion. "What were you working on? Sounds like she was already pretty impressed by *you*."

Had Fera been there, Dritz had a feeling he would not have made a suggestive little joke about Lis and Orion in that way. The older lady clearly didn't think of Orion in the way he was suggesting, so he figured it was acceptable.

"The external generator," Orion replied with a grin of his own, shaking his head. "But no, that's easy stuff. She wasn't impressed by that. Like I said, I've worked for her before. She knows I'm good." He seemed to catch on to Dritz's teasing, but didn't seem displeased by it.

Lis was taking them fairly deep into the ship, but Vela felt she could lead them back out with little problem. She wasn't exactly prepared for the sight that met them at their destination, however. The room was massive, with multiple machines out in the open as well as behind panels which stood ajar to show they needed to be fixed. Vela stared in awe, finally wandering a few steps away from Dritz and taking a look at the nearest machine.

"What do you think?" she could hear Lis asking, though she didn't turn away from her inspection. "You three in the main engine room by yourself for a few days? See how much you can clean up before I send in anyone else. Though I wonder if you could take care of the whole thing." The human woman was watching them closely, but she smiled in a way which was obviously friendly. "Think you can handle it, Orion? Dritz? With some help from this darling and curious flower?" Now it seemed it was Lis who was teasing, at least a little, and Vela turned to watch with the exact curiosity she had just been accused of.

Much as Dritz wanted to join Vela on her curious exploration, the Chrysalan always maintained a good degree of seriousness when he was working. Of course he was passionate, but it wouldn't do to wander off and make someone question their trust in you. At least not yet. And it was clear that Lis herself was not the sort to judge, but still.

"I dunno, what do ya reckon, Ori?" Dritz said brightly, then turning to Vela, "Vela? You two reckon we can get this done alone? I think that, even if we don't do it alone, the additional help you'll need will be minimal," he added with a proud grin.

"Curious flower and her two educational thorns reporting for mechanic duty," he chirped, chuckling.

"Oh, we've got this," Orion replied with slightly exaggerated confidence, joining in on the lighthearted attitude to the work in general. He knew Lis enjoyed a lighter tone, not wanting to be completely serious unless the situation absolutely called for it. "Who knows if we'll even need help? Once Vela is up to speed, there's very little that could possibly slow us down."

Vela didn't seem as certain, though she did give a hesitant nod in response. Lis only started laughing, telling them they were a wonderful team, and to take good care of the Aurian by not being too prickly as thorns before she left to talk to the rest of her team elsewhere on the ship.

Immediately, Vela turned to Dritz with an earnest, almost worried expression. [She didn't say what to repair. It can't be the entire room? How do we know what to do?] She was a little embarrassed about not knowing many things about repair just yet, but wanted to learn as quickly as possible.

Dritz laughed heartily at Orion's enthusiasm and how it matched his own perfectly. Soon enough, he thought, Vela's would match as well, and he couldn't wait for that day.

When the scruffy human had explained the repair situation, Dritz put a hand to his chest. "Why, Ori! I never thought you'd ask," he sighed, before snorting with laughter and they began to examine the main engine.

Between the three of them, they fixed each of the niggling small repairs in the main engine, with Vela managing a complete minor fix with nothing but Dritz's verbal guidance. The human and the Chrysalan chattered cheerily, and it wasn't long before they were able to do some tests and move outwards to the other consoles. There were a lot of minor repairs, and some damaged casing (something they couldn't actually do too much about), but mostly it was a lot of trial and error, looking for exactly what was wrong with the machinery.

"This might be the biggest job I've ever taken," Dritz mumbled thoughtfully, looking at Vela as he wiped his sweaty hands on his overalls, "So I'm glad I have your help."

Vela's only response for the moment was a slight smile. She had found it an enjoyable day after all, beyond being worried about how she would do with the repairs. It turned out to be something she could quickly learn, and had indeed learned a lot during the hours they had worked.

Their only break had been an hour for a quick lunch, so by the time they were done for the day, they were all feeling a bit worn out and hungry, but overall happy and satisfied. Lis had come to check on them and dismiss them with praise of a job well done, and a promise to see them at the same time tomorrow morning.

Orion went along with Dritz and Vela for their evening meal, which was full of discussion of their day and what they would like to accomplish the next. She didn't add much to the conversation, but she kept her attention focused on it in an attempt to learn even more. By the time they parted ways with Orion, who said he had promised to spend the evening alone with Fera, Vela was relaxed and feeling oddly, almost... playful.

[What should we do now?] she asked of Dritz as they left the dining area together. [Maybe we should take a shower to freshen up a little. You can go first.] While they could take a shower together, she had other ideas in mind for how their evening might proceed.

The combination of a full stomach, the satisfying ache of well worked muscles and the dull thrum of a concentration headache were putting Dritz in bright spirits. All of these things meant he had worked well, and hard. To have enjoyed a full day with two people he had a great deal of affection for, too, was a delight.

For all he was enjoying work, he was even more excited to finally have non-working time alone with Vela, and when they finally got back to their room, he pulled her into a big embrace, flopping his head against her and sighing happily, having agreed to shower first but not quite getting there right away.

"I'm glad to be working with you, flower, I've had such a good day," he purred, rubbing her back as he nuzzled into her hair. "Buuuut... you sure you don't want to join me?"

Tempting as it was to simply get into the shower with Dritz and enjoy their time together that way, Vela forced herself to shake her head and step back as soon as she could, especially before Dritz's hands began working their way lower (as they tended to) and making it harder to keep her resolve.

[It was a good day. I loved to work with you. But for now... we'll shower separately.] Her smile was the slightest bit flirtatious, so he knew there was nothing wrong, and she backed away without even giving in to the urge to help him undress first. She was almost proud of her determination.

She listened until she heard the water running, then sat herself down on the bed calmly to wait. Her mind was working over several ideas which could nearly be classified as mischievous, and this was a new feeling for her.

Dritz was seemingly satisfied with Vela apparently wishing to shower alone; perhaps she felt grubby and less attractive, or something similar. With a cheerful kiss, he left her to her own devices to enjoy his own unhurried shower.

It was a good half an hour before the Chrysalan emerged once more, with a towel slung around his waist, his hair dripping onto bare shoulders.

"Your turn, my flower," he said, sitting on the bed beside her and nuzzling her hair once again, apparently becoming distracted by her neck, as he absently kissed at it, "Water's nice and warm."

Vela melted a little into the kisses, but made herself stand and smile as Dritz offered her the shower. She did kiss him back before entering the bathroom, quick to strip herself down to nothing and stand under the warm spray.

Admittedly, showers to her were almost as blissful as baths. The way the water ran constantly across her body was delightful, and sometimes she had made Dritz laugh by standing under the shower head for long minutes without moving. The water across her mechanical eye didn't affect its function, fortunately, as long as it wasn't submerged completely.

She didn't want to take so long this time, so she began washing herself right away, only taking half the time Dritz did before she left the shower. Drying herself with a towel, including rubbing her hair until it was fluffy and nearly dry again, she left the cloth on the floor before taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom. She approached Dritz at a slow walk, and it obviously wasn't escaping his notice that she hadn't brought the towel with her.

Dritz had expected Vela to take her time, and so had situated himself on the bed with his legs stretched out and crossed lazily, leaning against the wall as he looked over his datapad at the plans for the ship they had been working on. Okay, so maybe he hadn't quite switched off work mode yet.

At the soft click of the door opening, he started to look up, "You didn't take long-"

His words were robbed from him when he saw her approaching, with no evidence of modesty. Her pale skin was soft and just slightly damp, the light hitting the gentle curves of her stomach and hips, and her hair was like a feathered halo. Of course, he'd seen it all before, but for her to be so openly confident was... Well. Well.

Vela stopped right at the end of the bed, looking at Dritz with amusement. [You're staring,] she signed to him, seeing he couldn't seem to decide what to say yet. She had thought it over, and knew one thing to completely distract him would be if she decided not to wear anything out of the bathroom. While she had expected to maybe feel uncomfortable or shy, it turned out she felt neither of those things at all. She liked Dritz looking at her, and the way he obviously appreciated all he could see.

Gracefully she climbed onto the bed and moved toward him, seeing he had at least managed to put the datapad down, and seated herself astride his lap, leaning forward so their chests pressed together and their faces were close. The towel Dritz was wearing around his waist was the only barrier between them, but Vela could still feel how incredibly warm he was through it. With no further explanation, she slowly moved her lips near his until they brushed tenderly, then deepened the kiss as a sudden passion seemed to run through them both.

She would wait just a little longer...

"Yeah, well you came out of the bathroom looking like this," he said softly, smiling mischievously, still unashamedly looking her up and down, "And you expected me not to stare?"

What happened next was enough to melt even the toughest person's resolve. Any thought of reasonable conversation was gone, and Dritz was immediately shuffling to accommodate Vela more comfortably (and with as much of them touching as possible). He gently pushed her away from him, wishing to look at her for a time longer, taking in every possible detail of her body through half-lidded eyes. He had no idea what had caused this sudden burst of additional confidence, but he was certainly not complaining.

"You're so beautiful," he said softly before pulling her into a deeper kiss, running his hands over her back and up into her hair, twirling short, delicate strands in his fingers.

He had a point, but Vela only smiled gently against his mouth as he kissed her again. She almost changed her mind about the silly thing she had planned to do, caught up in the adoring way Dritz kept looking her body over, but there was still that playful feeling she couldn't manage to shake no matter what.

They continued to kiss, Dritz's hands in her hair, and she moved one of her own hands innocently along his jaw before sliding her fingers down his chest, and slowly, slowly to the side she had touched that morning when she had awoken him.

Her movements then were still slow, but she deliberately moved her fingers across his ticklish side in a pace which gradually quickened, nearly collapsing against him with what could only be thought of as silent laughter as he responded.

There was a little buzz in the back of Dritz's throat as he leaned back, pulling Vela close. He was aware of her lithe fingers stroking over his chest and stomach, lightly tickling but in a way that was fairly pleasant.

Soon he was aware of the sensation intensifying, and he jerked his hips to one side, involuntarily, but Vela's fingers were insistent, and he soon was squirming under her, gasps rapidly growing into squeals.

"Aaah, Vela, what the heck!" he laughed, grabbing her wrists and wrestling her onto her back easily. With bright, excited giggles, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, releasing her hands and starting to flex his fingers over her own stomach and hips.

"Reveeennge!" he yelled, before leaning down and, apparently thinking this was a good act of revenge, licking her earlobe.

Though she gasped as Dritz grabbed her, Vela continued to shake with a sort of silent laughter when he pulled her to lay down and leaned over her. She was smiling so widely that she was certain her face hurt. It had definitely been worth it.

However, when he (quite oddly) decided to lick her ear, she gasped again and rolled to her side, curling up and away from his reach. It wasn't what he done, but the fact that his face had pressed so close to her neck in just the right way that it had tickled her in return.

She shuddered a little, still trembling with "laughter," curling her toes inward in a strange sort of delight. With her body scrunched up like this, she wondered what Dritz would do to make her relax back toward him. Of course she couldn't say anything, but she waited for the moment.

Dritz delighted in her response; her trembling shoulders and squirming, almost completely silent. There was something incredibly endearing about her lack of vocalisation, and he flopped next to her, giving her a moment without contact, for her nerves to calm. And, he thought with amusement, for her to untangle herself from the knot she was in.

After a moment, when she hadn't yet... unfurled herself, he put an arm around her and pulled her into a cuddle, nuzzling against the hair behind her ear, then kissing her bare shoulder.

"I think I've proved my point; be careful who you mess with," he murmured in her ear, his tone low and flirtatious before he chuckled and gave her a gentle squeeze. "You're adorable."

Vela gradually relaxed, with only a little additional shiver when Dritz murmured in her ear in a low tone. Her response to his words was to shake her head and smile, and she finally stretched back out and rolled onto her back, looking up at him.

[I didn't ruin our night, did I? I'm not sure why I wanted to do that. But it was fun.] She reached up to gently brush at his hair, a little stiff as it was still drying, then traced her fingers down his chest and lingered on his stomach for a long moment before she began tugging on the towel at his waist in an effort to loosen and remove it. For some reason, even after what she had done, her desire felt greater than it had before.

"Ruin? Oh, hell no," Dritz chuckled, nuzzling at her earlobe. "If anything, it's been more enjoyable! And anyway, there's no such thing as a ruined night with you."

Of course, Vela's insistent fingers at the towel around his waist made him smirk, and Dritz quickly tugged it off for her, before they sunk into each others' arms, and into deep, passionate kisses, Vela's enthusiasm lighting a fire within Dritz that only grew with intensity as their hands traced over skin.