#maybe the people who invented breakfast food were onto something there

[glitteratti]

daydrunk in tha bathrub while my roommate with a degree and career does her fancy buisinessgirl work in the room next to me. #baristawin

bought the cheapest bottle of dry sparkling wine aldi had and some oranges since i have tomorrow (VALENTINES DAY!!!!!) off so you KNOW what that means: breakfast in bath with mimosas!!!!!!!

[fanficsandthings]

Through the Years, Ch. 3

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story. Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 3k

Year 1, Year 2

Year 3: Redheads 

The snow fell heavily as you looked out the shop window, and it occurred to you that they would be rounding up all the students soon. They would want you to get back to the castle before the weather got too out of hand. Looking around Zonko’s one more time, you left the shop with the items you had bought and started to look for the twins.  Honestly, you were surprised that they hadn’t immediately beelined it to the joke shop, but maybe they were off thinking about their own little inventions. Fred had started to dabble in making potions he shouldn’t be messing with, and George was happy to learn right along with him, no matter how disastrous things could turn out. A couple weeks ago at breakfast you were sitting at the Slytherin table, having an idle conversation with Adrian Pucey about the latest quidditch match, when Lee Jordan walked in, the whole of Gryffindor turning their heads to look at him.

Adrian leaned across the table to whisper to you. “I heard the entire Gryffindor tower woke up in the middle of the night last night because there was an explosion in the third year boys’ dorm.” Your head went into your hands, and you let out a small grumble. “It was the Weasleys, wasn’t it?” “From what I heard, yes,” Adrien said to you, your forehead now resting on the table as you stared down at your lap. “They’ve been getting in a lot of trouble recently.” You slowly raised your head to look over to where Lee was now sitting at the Gryffindor table, the twins nowhere in sight. “They’ve been on a prank kick lately. Excuse me; I may need to make sure they aren't dead.” You got up from your seat and made your way over to Lee, who you noticed had lost a few inches of his hair overnight. “Hey, Jordan!” He turned to look at you. “Have a rough night?” He let out a laugh and said “No, I just woke up with my hair on fire is all. You can thank your boyfriends for that.” Ignoring his comment, you pressed him further. “What’d they do this time?” “I’m not sure exactly, but it involved standing over my bed in a very creepy fashion. And a loud explosion. And then fire. And then going to the infirmary,” Lee explained. “They’re still there?” you asked him. He nodded. “And I’m assuming it’s not too bad since no one seems to be in a huge panic.” “Just a couple burns that’ll take a day to heal fully,” he said. “Thanks, Lee,” you said, starting out of the great hall towards the infirmary. You entered the infirmary, your eyes finding Fred and George. They seemed to be the only ones in the room, sitting upright in parallel beds as they enjoyed a meal that must have been brought to them. They looked relatively normal besides the fact that Fred was missing half of his right eyebrow, a faint red burn mark making its way from just beside his right eye up into his hairline. George looked perfectly fine. and You thought maybe he had made it out of this incident unscathed, and he was just giving Fred company in the hospital wing. He must have caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, because he suddenly stopped his conversation with Fred and waved his hand at you, telling you to come join them. That’s when you saw the bandage on his left hand, wrapped around his palm and halfway up his arm. “I saw Lee Jordan a few minutes ago. What antics did you two get up to last night?” you asked the both of them, sitting on the edge of George’s bed. You reached over to his plate and attempted to sneak some food off it, but he smacked your hand away before you could. “Hey!” George gave you a glare, pulling his plate farther from you. “We’re the injured ones here. Get your own breakfast.” “You wouldn’t be injured if you didn’t try ridiculous stunts at two in the morning,” you informed them, looking between George’s hand and Fred’s face. “Now seriously, what were you trying to do to poor Lee?” “We were only testing out a potion,” Fred started to explain. “We thought we had it correct.” “Well, unless it’s a potion that causes explosions, I would say you’re very far from perfecting it,” you said, laughing at them. “It was meant to change the color of his hair,” George told you, now offering some of the food on his plate. You gladly accepted it. Fred continued on explaining. “We wanna make something that has a permanent effect, unless magically reversed.” “We know Zonko’s has a product that’ll change your hair color, but it’s only for a matter of minutes,” George told you. “We’d like to go for a more dramatic effect than that.” While the twins were talking, you absentmindedly studied the bandages around George’s palm and wrist. They were fresh, having been changed recently. You wondered what his injury looked like underneath. You feared it was worse than Fred’s, seeing as his warranted no bandages. You knew that by now, Madam Pomfrey had healed them as best she could, and they would be perfectly fine by this time tomorrow, but you still worried. “Try boxed hair dye next time.” you stated absentmindedly, your hand moving closer to George's on it's own accord. “What?” they both asked at the same time, looking at you in confusion. You snapped out of your thoughts, moving your hand back to your side. “You’ll have to be sneakier about it, and it’ll take longer and be 100% harder than using magical means, but it works,” you said, continuing your speech without really giving them an explanation. “You could put it in someone’s shampoo. Now, that’d be funny. Imagine Malfoy coming out of the shower with bright pink hair.” You let out a loud laugh, mostly to yourself, as Fred and George still had no clue what you were going on about. “Would you like to explain ‘boxed hair dye’ a little further?” Fred asked you. You looked between them, confused. A circuit in your brain connected after a few seconds. “Right, right, right. Muggle stuff. It’s literally just a dye that you put in your hair to change the color. Comes in a little box with instructions. Some of it stains your hair, and some of it washes out after a couple showers, so you’ll definitely want one that’s known to stain.” “Could you get us some?” they both asked. “I could ask my parents to mail me some, maybe.” You pondered this thought for a moment. “I think I have a better idea though. I’ll get back to you on that thought in a few weeks. I should get going, classes start soon.” You got up to leave, but turned around quickly. Glancing between their injuries real quick, you settled your eyes on George’s hand. “Please no more injuries. You worry me.” You turned back and hurried out the door, hoping not to be late to your morning class. “She was looking at you when she said that, George,” Fred teased his brother with a wink. George half heartedly threw a pillow at his brother. “She was talking to both of us.” “But she was looking at you,” Fred said, picking up the pillow and throwing it back. —————— Now, stepping outside Zonko’s, the wind was harsh, so you wrapped your scarf tighter around your face. You wanted to make a quick stop at Honeydukes before heading back to the castle. From down the street, you spotted Fred and George leaving the sweets shop. They started to walk in your direction, and you were about to scoot past them when they grabbed onto both of your arms and pulled you to the side.   “What’re you two doing?!” you scolded them as they dragged you into an alley. “I wanna go to Honeydukes real quick.” “No need for that,” Fred said as he let go of your arm. George pulled a small brown bag out of his coat pocket. He held it out towards you. “We bought you your favorites.” You took the bag apprehensively and looked inside. Everything seemed to be fine with the sweets inside. You looked between the two of them. “Why?” The twins spoke at the same time, but completely different sentences this time. “Because we’re such good friends,” is what George said. “Think of it as a sort of bribe,” is what Fred said. You narrowed your eyes at George, staring at him as you asked, “What sort of bribe?” You turned your head towards Fred for an answer. “It’s been weeks since you said you had an idea for our hair color predicament, and we haven’t heard a thing about it,” Fred explained to you. You rolled your eyes at them. “Be patient, boys.” You pulled the bag from Zonko’s out of your pocket and took a small vile out of it. Opening the vile, you drank it and watched the twins as your hair slowly turned to a bright ruby red color. “Now we’re all red heads, huh.” They both let out a small laugh, and Fred said, “We told you we already know about Zonkos, but we want something more permanent.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time,” You said, handing the rest of the bag over to George. “There’s five more bottles in there. Use them to deconstruct the formula. You don’t always have to start from scratch, you know. You’re both smart enough to find a way to make that permanent.” As soon as the last word was out of your mouth, Fred scooped you up into a tight hug, lifting your feet off the ground. “You’re smarter than the both of us combined. I can’t believe that we didn’t think about that. Why work harder when you can use other peoples’ successes to further your own?” “If that’s what you want to take from that, then sure.” You laughed as Fred sat you back on the ground. You looked around Fred’s shoulder at George, who was examining one of the viles. “Think you can figure it out, Georgie?” He looked up at you smiling, partly because he liked it when you called him that, and partly because this idea was absolutely brilliant. “Definitely.” “Good. Now we should get going before we get caught in a blizzard,” you said, looking up at the sky. The snow fell heavily, easy to see against the dark backdrop of the buildings you were standing between. You reached and grabbed Fred’s hand, ready to pull him with you through the crowd. You stepped close to George to grab his hand too, but you stopped short when you remembered that hand was the one that had been burned. It had been weeks ago, and you knew it was completely healed by now. There wasn’t even a scar; it was like it had never even happened. Still, you were worried that you might hurt him if you grabbed it too hard. It was an irrational fear, but you couldn’t help it. You quickly grabbed his other hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed your hesitation. You pulled them both behind you, and you were just about to step out of the alley when you stopped suddenly, the twins almost running into you. You could see little footprints in the snow. Pawprints, leading to a small crate at the edge of the alleyway. Following the small prints, you could see the tip of an orange tail sticking out of the crate. You let go of the twins hands, and slowly walked over to the crate, careful not to startle the creature. The twins looked between each other, confused, but they quietly walked up behind you anyway. Making little clicking sounds with your tongue, you urged the creature to look at you. It’s tail disappeared fully into the crate, and you were disappointed for a moment before you saw two orange ears pop up, and then you could see the creature's whole face. It seemed to be just a common house cat. You bent down to be eye-level with the cat, pulling the twins down with you, hoping not to scare it away. You slowly raised your hand up, leveling it a few inches from it’s face. “Come here, sweetie,” you urged it. “What’re you doing out in the cold all by yourself.” It stretched it’s neck out to sniff your hand carefully. After a moment, you felt comfortable enough to try to scratch behind it’s ear. It let you, and you slowly let out the breath you were holding. Fred and George hadn’t moved at all behind you, and you were thankful for their stillness. The cat hopped out of the crate and made it’s way to rub against your leg. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing,” you said down to it. The cat moved from you and rubbed it’s head on the top of George’s shoe. You smiled softly at the two of them. “I think it likes you, George.” He just smiled back at you as he scratched the stop of the cat’s head. “I think we should take it back to the castle,” you said suddenly. “What?” Fred asked you. “This could be somebody in town’s pet.” “Look at it,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the animal. “It’s very skinny, it doesn’t have a collar. I say it’s a stray. What do you think, George?” “Hmmm?” George looked up at you from the cat. “Why does my opinion matter?” “You’re the tiebreaker,” you told him. He thought about it for a minute. “Mum doesn’t really like cats.” You frowned at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be your cat. It’d be our cat. And I’d be more than willing to bring it home with me on holidays.” George was still bent down, and the cat now had both of it’s front legs on top of one of his knees. “Then I say go for it. It is pretty cute.” You let out a laugh of pure happiness. You bent down fast, careful not to scare the cat away. Hugging George from the side, you squeezed him as tight as you could, almost losing your balance. George felt you both falling and put one hand on the ground fast enough to catch you. “I could kiss you right now, George Weasley. I’m so happy.” You looked from him to the cat in front of the two of you. You watched it as it scratched it’s ear with it’s back leg. You didn’t even notice George freeze completely solid underneath your arms as you said those words. You did kiss him. Quickly on his cheek. He barely even noticed it, but afterwards his entire face lit up almost as bright as your current hair color. As you let go of the hug, George did fully lose his balance, falling completely into the snow. You unwrapped your green and grey scarf from around your neck and slowly approached the cat with it. You were careful when you picked it up, examining it quickly before you brought it close to your chest. You wrapped it loosely in your scarf, hoping to keep it warm. You knew that as soon as you left this alley, the wind would be much worse “It’s a girl,” you told Fred and George as you turned back to them. Fred was currently in the process of helping his brother off the ground. “I think we should name her Minnie.” “Minnie?” George asked as he wiped some snow off his legs. “After McGonagall,” you explained to them. They both laughed at that and agreed. Minnie it was. You quickly handed her to Fred and brought a disposable camera out of your coat pocket. “I wanna remember this moment exactly.” The twins huddled together as you stood in front of them, and Fred held Minnie to the side of you. You took a quick picture, hoping it would look good when you got it developed over the holiday. You slipped the camera back in your pocket and grabbed Minnie back from Fred. “She looks good in Slytherin colors, don’t you think?” you asked, admiring her wrapped in your scarf. You looked at the scarves the twins were wearing. “Much better than that ugly red.” You laughed and dodged out of the way as Fred tried to hit you on the arm. You stepped out of the alley and suddenly felt the wind harshly on your face. Your hair whipped around; you could see that the red had already faded from it. You shivered and pulled Minnie as close to you as you could, pushing your face down into your jacket. Suddenly, there was a flash of red in front of your eyes, and you turned to see George wrapping his scarf around your neck as you walked. You wanted to object, but you felt warm and fuzzy, and you didn’t want that feeling to leave you. “You look pretty cute in that ugly red,” George whispered as he pulled away from you. Knowing your cheeks were now burning the same color as the scarf, you buried your face into it, hoping to conceal the blush. You chose to ignore him, instead looking down at Minnie, who was basically asleep in your arms. You took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the Gryffindor scarf you now wore. This was honestly the happiest you had ever felt in your life. George fell behind you to walk in step with his brother. “I told you I could flirt back.” Fred grinned at his twin. “Well done, George. Well done.”

[freddiesaysalright]

Tale As Old as Time - Chapter 1

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​,@minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @xviiarez​, @rogerina-owns-me​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Let’s meet our heroine! You! Not much Rami in this chapter, but he’s coming!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

You woke to the chirping of birds outside your window. The sun was just peeking over the hillside and through your curtains. You groaned, stretching your limbs to wake yourself up. You had errands to run today, and you needed to finish early to help your father with his newest invention. You shivered slightly as you pushed your covers back. 

You changed into a plain dress for your walk to town. Then you slipped on your boots. You stopped by your father’s bedroom to peek in on him. He was snoring, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. You smiled to yourself, grabbed a basket, and headed out.

The crisp autumn air felt refreshing against your skin. You began to hum to yourself as you walked. The sleepy little town was also waking up. You smelled the fresh bread from the baker, heard the thud of a knife hitting wood from the butcher, and saw the bright white flowers at the florist. You waved to each of them as you passed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” said the florist. 

“Good morning, Elaine,” you replied sweetly.

“How’s your father?” she asked.

“Sleeping soundly,” you replied with a smile. 

“On your way to pick up his medicine, I assume?” she guessed.

You nodded. “It’s that time. I’ll be by later to pick up some flowers for my mother’s grave. Is that alright?”

“Of course, darling,” she assured you. “I’ll start an arrangement.”

“You’re the best!”

You waved once more and started toward the apothecary. Your father had a dreadful illness which caused him to cough. At first, you wrote it off as dust from all the things he built. But then he began to cough up blood, and you insisted on taking him into town. The pharmacist gave him some herbal treatments, which was manageable, but it wasn’t a cure. You wished you could take your father to a big city to get a trained doctor to treat him, but you couldn’t afford it.

With a sigh, you entered the apothecary. The pharmacist - Lyle - beamed at you.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he greeted. “I’ve got your father’s medicine ready for you.”

He indicated the small package on the table.

“You’re always prepared, sir, I can’t thank you enough,” you replied. 

You dropped some coins on the counter and picked up the parcel, placing it carefully in your basket.

“How is old Paul, anyway?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” you answered. “I know he’s got big plans for today, though I don’t know what.”

“Tell him to be careful,” he warned. “That dust is not good for him. And we don’t want him to take a turn.”

“I’ll let him know,” you said. “Thank you again!”

You left, dreading having to tell your father once again that he needed to stop his work. His work drove him. It broke your heart that it was also killing him.

You went to the bakery and picked up some bread. Then back by the flower shop for the little bouquet for your mother’s grave. Then you headed to your favorite spot in town - the library.

You adored books. As a simple country girl with a bit of time on her hands, you found your adventure in stories. That was the one thing you had always craved - something more than caring for your father and visiting the village. To experience something you had never seen before. The closest you ever came was through a book.

“Good morning, Jean!” you called to the librarian as you came through the door.

“What’ll it be today, Y/N?” he asked kindly.

“Has anything new come in?” you wondered, scanning the front desk for a fresh title.

“Actually, yes,” Jean said, picking up the book off the top. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s about a prince under a curse, and a fight to break it.”

“Say no more,” you replied, taking it from him. “You know how I feel about magic.”

“I do,” he chuckled. “You know, you could experience some of your own if you got out of the village every once in a while.”

You sighed. “You know I can’t leave my father. Besides, I couldn’t afford a trip.”

He shook his head and tutted. “Y/N, you’re such a bright girl. You’ve got so much going for you. It’s a shame that you’re stuck here.”

“Maybe, but I love my father,” you said firmly. “He’s given me his whole life.”

“He doesn’t want you to return the favor,” Jean insisted.

“There’s still the cost,” you said. “We spend enough for Papa to go to contests. That’s all we can really do. Really, Jean, I’m happy with how things are. At least for now.”

“Because you have my books?” he teased.

You grinned. “Precisely.”

“That’s due back in a week,” he said.

“I’ll have it back before then!”

You waved and headed back onto the street. Immediately, you began poring over the book. You were so invested that you crashed into someone before you finished the first page. The collision knocked you flat on your bum.

“I’m so sorr-!” you began to say, but then you looked up and saw who it was.

Victor. You bit back a groan.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a cocky grin, helping you to your feet.

“Good morning, Victor,” you replied. 

He picked up your book and handed it to you. “What are you doing with this?”

“I’m reading it,” you said. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, I’ve got a lot to do today.”

You pushed past him and kept walking. To your dismay, he followed.

“Y/N, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he began.

“Oh, how rare for you,” you said.

You didn’t mean to be snarky, but Victor was so conceited and arrogant. He was handsome and had money, but because of that, he was spoiled. For some reason, you had caught his attention. But he hardly knew you. He didn’t catch your jab.

“Don’t you think it’s time we got married?” he said. 

You scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re the most beautiful woman in town, I’m the handsomest man, why shouldn’t we get married?” he said with a shrug.

“Do you really think looks are all that’s required for a successful marriage?”

“What else is there?”

You stopped walking and looked at him in disbelief. You searched his face for any hint that he was joking, but found none. He genuinely believed appearance was that vital.

“Victor, I’m flattered, but no,” you said. “I have no interest in getting married just now. Not when I have my father to care for.”

“That may be precisely the reason to get married,” he argued. “I’ve been thinking of buying the old palace, but if my dear father-in-law needed care, well - I might consider something smaller to get him what he needs.”

You froze. That offer was tempting. But Victor was just so...all brawn and no brain. How could you spend your life with him? 

“Victor, I can’t marry you,” you said simply. “I don’t love you.”

“Honestly, Y/N, whether or not you love me is of little consequence,” he said. “You’ll learn to love me. You don’t have to make a decision just yet. But do promise me you’ll think about it.”

You sighed and looked away. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Wonderful!” he cried. “I’ll come by later to get your answer. Have a good day, Y/N!”

With that, he was off. You saw him join a few other men who had gathered on horseback. Victor had a fine, black horse, which he mounted gracefully. The group galloped away for their weekly hunt. You found it absurd that other people couldn’t see past Victor’s good looks. He was a shallow, empty person, with money and some charm.

You started back toward your house. Only, as you started to walk, you caught the eye of three other young women. They tended to follow Victor around and swoon over him. He ignored them completely. They were glaring fiercely at you and you heard them whispering, surely speculating how you could possibly need time to answer a man such as Victor.

Rolling your eyes, you began walking. Your house came into view through the trees and you walked up the stone steps. Your father was out of bed and already tying on his inventing apron.

“Morning, my dear,” he said cheerfully. “How was town?”

“Fine,” you replied dismissively. “I picked up a new book.”

He chuckled. “Just like your mother. Always have your nose in a book.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased.

You placed the bread on the counter and began cutting it into slices for toast. 

“Have you eaten anything yet, Papa?” you wondered.

“No, but I’ve been looking forward to your blueberry preserves all morning,” he told you.

You giggled. Over the summer, you had taken to gardening after reading a book about it. You had a natural knack for it. Over the summer, your blueberries came in sweet and ripe, so you took about half of  the bush and turned them into preserves for the fall and winter. The rest, you and your father ate fresh. 

“Coming right up,” you assured him.

You toasted the bread over the fire and then retrieved your preserves from the pantry. You spread it generously over the bread, and enjoyed the breakfast treat with your father. He groaned at the taste.

“Y/N, these are just delicious!” he praised. “I hope you keep growing all our food!”

“I’ll need more practice for that, but thank you,” you returned. 

“So, did you see anyone in town today?” he asked.

“Well, I saw Lyle,” you began. “Speaking of which, your medicine is on the counter, don’t forget to take it. Then Jean at the book shop. And Elaine arranged some flowers for me to put on Mama’s grave.”

“How nice,” he said.

“I, uh…” you trailed off. You wondered if you should tell him about Victor’s offer. “I also saw Victor. He told me something interesting.”

“Oh? What’s that?” he wondered.

You quickly changed your mind. 

“He said he’s thinking of buying the old palace.”

“I wasn’t aware it was for sale,” your father said.

“With enough money, you can get anything you want apparently,” you said, half to yourself.

Your father set down his toast, mid-bite.

“Now, Y/N,” he scolded. “That sounds like bitterness.”

“I don’t mean to, Papa,” you said apologetically. “But I feel like Victor gets everything, whether he deserves it or not, simply because he has money and a way with women. It’s maddening!”

“I know, but it’s the world we live in,” he said gently, placing his hand atop yours. “All we can do is be as kind and helpful as possible.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Papa, I’m sorry.”

“Besides, he’d have to appeal to the royal family,” your father continued. “Their living relatives will have claim to the palace before Victor. Besides, the prince may still be alive.”

Your brow furrowed. “I always heard the whole family was killed that day.”

Your father shook his head. “Not true. The king and queen were found. But the prince never was. He simply vanished, it seems. I think he escaped that night and is still alive somewhere.”

“That’s awfully hopeful,” you remarked.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “That prince was a kind boy. He used to come into town and -”

Your father stopped and was hit with a coughing fit. He hacked into his napkin, his whole body racking with the force of it. You jumped up. It had never been so intense before.

“Papa!” you cried, concerned.

“I’m alright,” he wheezed, but blood dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. “I’m alright. I just haven’t had my medicine today, that’s all.”

“Papa, this is more than before,” you said. “It can’t just be your medicine.”

“Don’t fuss, Y/N,” he returned. “Now, I’m going to take my medicine and head down to the cellar for my new invention.” He cheered up. “I can’t tell you much just yet, but we’ll see how it works!”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Go see your mother,” he said gently. “I’ll be just fine.”

He took his medicine down the stairs with him before you could say anymore. With a huff, you grabbed your bouquet and headed out to the cemetery. 

Your mother was buried on a grassy hill about half a mile outside the village. It was wide and spacious, and strangely the place you felt the most free. You took your book along since you sometimes read aloud to her. Other times, you leaned against her headstone and read to yourself. Today, your heart was too conflicted to read. 

The choice before you was clear: marry Victor and get your father the help he needed or refuse the proposal and let your father continue to suffer. Either way, you were trapped.

You placed the flowers before your mother’s grave.

“Oh, Mama, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed. “I can’t win in either scenario.”

You paused, hoping for some inspiration. You considered what your mother would do. She was a very giving woman, but she believed in genuine love within a family. She certainly had not married your father for money. And yet, she would have done anything to save the people she loved.

“Maybe Victor isn’t so bad,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “Maybe I haven’t given him enough of a chance. Sure, he’s vain and shallow and self-centered, but he isn’t cruel. I could certainly do worse.”

You paused and heaved a sigh. It seemed so unfair.

After about an hour, you headed back. You went right down into the cellar to help your father, who was still not telling you what this new invention was. And from the looks of it, you couldn’t even guess. All the while, he coughed. He took several breaks, becoming winded after short bursts of work. All this after having taken his medicine.

You worked well into the afternoon. Then you headed upstairs to start dinner. You were just at the door, wiping your hands on your apron, when Victor walked up. You hastily wiped some soot from your cheek.

“Y/N, hello!” he said cheerfully. Then he frowned. “My goodness, what have you been doing? You look like a field hand.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’ve been helping my father. It’s not exactly neat work.”

“Don’t you have sewing or...ladies work to do?” he wondered.

You resisted the brutal urge to roll your eyes.

“Actually, Victor, all my ladies work is reserved for Tuesdays,” you said, but once again, he did not detect your sarcasm.

“Y/N, I’ve come by to see if you -”

“I know why you’re here,” you cut across him. 

“Well, have you thought about it?” he asked.

“I have,” you said, heart pounding. “After careful consideration, I have decided to change my original answer. I will marry you, Victor.”

You felt like vomiting. But you knew what you had to do. Your father needed this.

“Wonderful!” he cried, punching a fist into the air. “Shall we set a date? How about a week from today?”

“Woah, settle down,” you said. “A proper wedding takes months to plan. And I want it to be done the right way, not the quickest way.”

“Ah, of course,” he replied. “Then, shall we go and give your father the good news?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” you said. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

He took your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles. You tried not to cringe.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you,” he said. “There’s no better match in town.”

You forced a smile. “Yes, I...well…”

“I can see you’re speechless,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you and your father have some time. I’ll come back tomorrow to pay him my respects.”

“Thank you, Victor,” you said. “This is going to change our lives.”

“It certainly will,” he agreed pompously. “Good day, Y/N...dear.”

You winced as he released your hand and returned to his horse. He mounted, blew you a kiss, and then trotted away with a wide grin on his face. You watched him disappear through the trees. Disgust crawled over your skin, and weren’t sure if it was for yourself or Victor. Now there was the issue of telling your father.

With a groan, you headed back down to the cellar. You heard a loud whistle of the machine he’d been building, which made you stop. You watched as everything began. Springs coiled and released, steam erupted from lids, wheels turned. All of it led to an axe - attached at the front - rising up, and coming down hard enough against a piece of wood to chop it cleanly in half.

Your mouth fell open.

“Papa!” you cried.

“Can you believe it, Y/N?!” he returned, jubilant. “It works!”

It made you sick to think you were going to have to ruin his good mood.

“Papa, I’ve got something to tell you,” you began.

“I tell you, Y/N, with this one, we’ll go far,” he continued, ignoring you. “This is going to be my greatest yet!”

“Papa, I -”

“Chopping wood is back breaking, people will be clamoring for this!” he went on. “We’ve got to celebrate! How about we -”

“Papa, listen!” you insisted.

He stopped short and looked at you. His brow furrowed at your watery eyes. He switched off the machine and the room went silent.

“I....I have more news,” you said quietly. Dread made your stomach turn. “Victor was just here.”

“Oh? Any updates on buying the old palace?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t about that. He...well, you see...he…”

“Out with it, Y/N,” your father pressed. “Don’t leave me on tender hooks here.”

“He asked me to marry him,” you blurted out.

You found it difficult to meet your father’s gaze now. Shame made you fix your eyes to the floor.

“What did you tell him?” your father asked gently.

You looked up. “I said yes.”

Paul’s eyes went wide. You knew you had shocked him.

“Y/N, I...I didn’t think you wanted to get married,” he said. “Much less to Victor. From the way you spoke this morning, you seem to hardly even like him.”

“Well, it’s not always about what I want,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly. “This is about what’s best for us.”

“Us?” he questioned. “Heavens, I’m not the one marrying him. What’s he got to do with me?”

You squeezed your eyes shut with frustration. A tear slid down your cheek.

“He can take care of you, Papa,” you said softly. “He can get you proper care. Better than Lyle.”

“Y/N, you can’t pledge your life to someone for my sake!” he cried, crossing over to put his hands on your arms. “You should marry someone for love! And no other reason!”

“And what, watch you die right in front of me?!” you shot back. “When I could have done something? Papa, you’re the only family I’ve got left!”

“I’m not a reason to waste your life!” he insisted. “You’re my child, I’m supposed to go before you do! And what happens then? You’ll marry a man you don’t love or respect to give me just a few more years?”

“I need you!” you argued, tears falling freely now. 

“You can’t sacrifice your life for me, Y/N, I won’t let you!” he shouted.

You sobbed and collapsed into his arms. He held you against him and let you cry, patting your back soothingly. Pressed to his chest, you could hear his rattling breaths. It reaffirmed your decision.

“I won’t let you die,” you whimpered.

“Y/N, there’s a contest in the city this week,” he said. “Before you go through with this, let me go and try to win some money. If I can do that, I’ll get treatment, and you won’t have to marry Victor. Okay?”

“I’ve already accepted him, Papa,” you said, sniffling.

“Engagements can be called off,” he returned. “Let’s give my inventions one last chance to save us.”

You pulled away and looked at him. “Alright, then.”

He cupped your face in his hands, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. 

“Have some faith, my girl,” he said. “At least this one works.”

“Oh, Papa,” you laughed.

You went up and had dinner together. 

The next day, you rose early and helped your father pack up the wagon. You hitched up the horse as well. As Paul climbed into the seat, he looked at you.

“What shall I bring you if it’s good news?” he asked.

“A rose,” you replied. “The kind you always brought home for Mama.”

He smiled. “A rose it is, then.”

You stepped up on the hitch and kissed his cheek.

“Good luck, Papa,” you said. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he returned warmly. “I’ll see you in three days.”

“Three days,” you repeated, stepping back down.

When you were safely on the ground, he flicked the reins and he was off. You watched him go. The sun began to creep over the horizon, and with it came new hope. This invention worked, and it was incredibly useful. There was a chance.

Paul started at a brisk pace, determined to make it to the city by the afternoon. Then he’d have a whole day to sell the new invention. He was certain it would do better than the last few. It had to. His daughter’s whole future was at stake this time. 

The only trouble was, getting to the big city quickly meant going through the forest. And Paul had not made the journey in over a year. Either his memory was failing him, or the path had changed. He couldn’t be sure which. But it seemed suddenly the world had gone dark, though he knew the sun still shone above the trees somewhere. 

“Where are we?” he wondered aloud.

He brought the horse to a slow stop. Then he looked around. There were no signs to indicate which direction to go from there. Worried he was missing something due to the darkness, he reached into the wagon for a lantern. He lit it, which helped some, but still there was no indication for where he wanted to go. He dug around in his bag for his map. As he did so, a soft pattering through the leaves got his attention.

Rain came down, dampening his clothes. He blinked and looked up. Now it was clear why visibility was so bad. Clouds blocked out the sun. Dark, wicked looking clouds.

A jolt of fear ran up Paul’s spine. A storm would mean a cold, which was something his lungs couldn’t take right now. Not when he had to go and present his wood chopper. He needed to head back home and try again tomorrow.

He tugged the reins to the left to begin his journey home. A low rumble of thunder confirmed his decision. Then…

CLAP!

Thunder sounded almost right above them. Paul shivered as the rain came down harder. The horse whinnied nervously, backing up. 

“No, Phillipe, forward,” Paul urged, flicking the reins again.

BANG! FLASH!

Lightning struck the tree in front of them and it immediately burst into flame. Phillipe neighed and reared back, throwing the wagon off balance.

“Phillipe!” Paul shouted, in an attempt to calm him.

The flames warmed the air around them. Thunder boomed above. The dry, crunchy leaves on the forest floor caught the flames from the tree. Phillipe turned tail and took off into the woods, away from the fire and further away from home.

Paul gave a yelp of surprise and held onto the reins. The wagon bumped along over the roots and rocks, and he was just trying not to be thrown off as they galloped through the darkness. The rain picked up, pelting the man’s face and eyes. Paul lowered his hat to try and shield himself, but it was already soaked through.

“Phillipe!” Paul yelled through the noise. “Phillipe, stop!”

The horse did not listen. His animal instincts had completely taken over and he was focused only on escaping the fire and storm. They hurtled through the woods without any direction or destination.

When Phillipe could go no further, he slowed, panting. Paul peered out from below his hat. He hoped he could discern where he was, but the only thing in front of him was an old, wrought iron gate. It was elaborately designed, and now that the rain had eased up, Paul could see why. Behind it was a lush garden. The most prominent growth was a stunning rose bush. Thinking of his daughter, he had Phillipe halt so he could get down. He retrieved his pocket knife and reached through the gate.

To his surprise, it squeaked open. He gasped as he lost balance and stumbled through. He brought his arm back through the bars and then walked onto the little path into the garden. The roses really were some of the finest he had ever seen. The bushes were tall so it felt like walking through a maze. Unwilling to venture too far in, he stopped before the first curve.

A large rose bloomed out from the bush. The petals looked so delicate with the rain drops adorning them. He brought forth his knife once again, and he cut the stem, carefully avoiding the thorns.

He heard a low rumble nearby. Assuming it to be thunder, he started to jog back to Phillipe. Only it wasn’t thunder, he quickly realized. A great, looming shadow had appeared above him. As he took in the shape before him, he stumbled backward and let out a scream.

[confusedweasleys]

Mission Accomplished - George Weasley x Reader

A/N: I’mmmm back! I wrote this requested imagine at you guessed it, crackhead hours. It turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, but I think I like it. As always, leave feedback! Xoxo

Request: @iluvharrypotter172 Could you do 33 from the fluffy prompt list with George Weasley x reader preferably with the reader saying it to George. Thanks in advance!

Prompt: “how’s the hangover?” (#33)

Triggers: Cursing, Drinking

Word Count: 2,295

———————————————————————————————————

    I woke up with a splitting headache. And I mean splitting. I painfully pushed myself into a sitting position from my spot on the floor and glanced around my surroundings. I was sandwiched between the twins’ beds, covered in a heap of blankets and pillows. The occupants of the two beds both snored peacefully, making me feel almost guilty for what I was about to do. Almost. 

“Accio,” I whispered, summoning a metal pot from the kitchen. I steeled myself and banged the pot onto the metal railing of the beds. I winced.

“Shit.” Two voices cussed simultaneously as the twins woke up. 

“Morning Weasleys,” I said, wincing again. That had not been my best idea. “How’s the hangover?” I said, throwing a hand-knit pillow at the younger twin as he sat up. He attempted to bat it away and missed. It him square in the face. I chuckled as he groaned. 

“I haven’t felt this awful since Madame Pomfrey made me drink an entire bottle of Skele-Gro in the third year,” George said, flopping back down onto his bed. “I don’t remember a thing from last night.”

I sighed. “I don’t either.”

“Well that tends to happen when you drink an entire bottle of Firewhiskey,” Fred said, rolling his eyes. I stuck my tongue out at him and tried to go back to sleep.

        Most days, everyone loved mornings at the Burrow were my favorite. Today was not one of those days. For George and I at least. Everyone else seemed perfectly fine. In fact, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gotten up early to make everybody breakfast, since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still out of town. 

“Just coffee for me, thanks,” said George.

“George, you had better eat something or you’ll just feel worse,” Hermione said, sliding a plate of toast his way. “You too, Y/N,” she said, frowning and adding more toast to the plate. George mumbled something into his plate that sounded a lot like ‘Thanks mum’.

“How come you’re so chipper?” I said to Hermione. “In fact, how come all of you seem fine while I feel like my actual brain is bleeding?”

“Because we didn’t drink an entire bottle of fire-whiskey last night,” Charlie said, chuckling. Shit. An entire bottle? I thought Fred had been joking. I didn’t even want to know what happened last night. 

“We might liquor you up more often Y/N, if it makes things as interesting as last night was,” said Ginny, grinning at me. 

“What does that mean?” George said, looking alarmed.

“Yeah Ginny, what does that mean?” I asked.

“Let’s just say you two had a lot more than anybody else,” Ron said, looking up from his food. Fred, who was sitting next to him, smacked him on the head. Ron looked sheepish. I looked at George, who shrugged and mouthed, no clue.

“Seriously guys, what happened last night?” I said, looking around the table.

“Yeah we deserve to know,” George said indignantly. “Fred, are you really not going to tell me?” 

“Sorry Georgie, I can’t help you if you don’t remember,” his twin said with a smile and a shrug. 

“I guess you two will just have to figure it our yourselves,” Harry said. 

“All right listen up you lot, I am tired and I am hungover. I am not in the mood for what ever this little game is. So what the hell happened last night?” I said sternly, looking around the table again. Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Fred, and Charlie all stayed silent. I groaned. “Fine,” I said. I got up to go back upstairs, only to be stopped by Hermione. 

“Hold up Y/N, Mrs. Weasley left us chores. Plus, we’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do from the party, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley get back from St. Mungo’s tomorrow.” She then gave us a list of chores that we had to do, half left for us by Mrs. Weasley, and half to hide the evidence of the party we had last night. I had to de-gnome the garden with Ginny, then clear out the broom shack (where we hid most of the rubbish and alcohol from the party) with Fred and George. 

    Not that de-gnoming the garden was ever pleasant work, but a bad hangover and Mid-July heat made it so much worse. 

“Ginny, come on, you have to tell me. What the hell happened last night? And what was Ron on about this morning?” I asked, watching her as she flung a particularly fat gnome over the Burrow’s walls. She glanced over at me. 

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“You’re in a good mood, I said, changing the subject. “Has that got anything to do with me seeing Harry leaving your room this morning?” She looked over at me and grinned.

“It might,” she said. “But you shut up about that. I don’t want to know what’ll happen to Harry if any of my brother hear.” Perfect.

“I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut,” I said innocently. “If my best friend was to clue me in on the happenings of last night. Otherwise, who knows what might slip out.” I grinned and shrugged my shoulders. Ginny rolled her eyes at my and flung another gnome over the wall.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said. “Because then I would be forced to let slip to a certain one of my brothers that you have a crush on them.” Ginny grinned as I went pink. 

“I regret telling you that every day,” I grumbled. I took my frustration out on a gnome that was attempting to escape from its relocation. It sailed a good 30 yards beyond the wall. Ginny giggled.

“Relax, you know I’d never tell,” Ginny said. “Unless I was bored,” she added. “I’m only joking!” she said as I shot her a look. “Anyways, you’re in luck. I’m rather cross with my dear brother Fred at the moment, since he tried to force a very drunk Harry to make an Unbreakable Vow that he would never kiss me again.” 

“How does that help me with my situation?” i asked. 

“It helps you,” she said, “because i am not in the mood to help Fred with another one of his plots at the moment. It was his idea to keep you and George from knowing what happened last night. Which means I’ll tell you what happened last night.”

“Oh thank God. So once again, what the hell happened last night and why is everyone being so weird?”

“Well, I’m sure you remember, the party started pretty much the moment Mum and Dad left the house. You drank about half a bottle of Firewhiskey, which is when I’m pretty sure your memory stops.” I nodded. She was probably right. “And George,” she continued, “well he had about an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. He was gone about an hour after you, right about when Ron said he wanted to go swimming.”

“Which is when we went to the lake,” I said, remembering someone jumping into water last night. Ginny looked at me, alarmed.

“You remember last night?” she asked.

“No, no, I just had a flash of...Charlie, I think, jumping into the lake. Anyways what happened next?” I asked, looking at Ginny.

“Well, once we got to the lake Fred suggested we play Wizard’s Truth or Dare.”

“Wait, what the hell is Wizard’s Truth or Dare?” I interrupted.

“A game Fred claims to have invented. It’s practically muggle truth or dare, except Charlie or Fred, since no one trusted you or George with a wand, would hex you if you whimped out of dare and put Veritaserum in your drink if you chose truth.”

“Sounds like a fun game. But how does it relate to people keeping last night a secret from George and I?” I asked. 

“Well, you got a dare to spin the bottle around the circle, and George got upset. He said no one else in the circle or anywhere else was gonna kiss his girl, and you said you weren't his girl, and then he kissed you.”

“What?” I said. Ginny suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“You guys kissed and then that’s when everyone kinda decided the party was over. Fred told us we weren’t supposed to say anything because it was clear you guys weren’t going to remember anything in the morning and we all agreed it would better if you guys didn’t know. That’s why everyone was acting so weird this morning.” To say i was confused was an understatement. After a while i just said,

“Well - that’s a lot to take in.”

“What’s a lot to take in?” Fred said, walking down the steps to the garden with George. Damn he looked good - even hungover.

“The rules of Wizard’s Truth or Dare,” I said quickly, watching George go a little pale.

“Oh that’s Georgie’s new favorite game,” he said, clapping his brother on the back. George glared at him. Fred shrugged glancing around garden. He clapped his hands together. “Time for new chores little ones!” I groaned. As bad as de-gnoming the garden was, at least it was outdoors. Normally, I would look forward to being crammed in a small, cramped space with George, but not after what I just learned. I hoped he didn’t know, or it would be a very awkward hour.

“That’s not the right attitude,” Fred said, shaking his head at me. I faked a smile at him. “That’s the spirt. Now I’m going to go help Ickle Ronniekins clean up the lake.”

“No Fred, you’re supposed to clear out the shack with George and I,” I shouted at his retreating figure.

“Plans change Y/L/N. Turns out the damage we did at the lake was a lot worse than we thought. Besides,” he yelled. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about!”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” I said under my breath. George heard me.

“Ginny didn’t tell you?” George said, speaking for the first time. i looked over at him as we made our way to the broom shack

“Tell me what?” I asked. I knew what he was referring to, but I wanted to hear him say it. Maybe I would be able to tell how he felt about it. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it myself. Of course I liked him. I’d had a crush on George for the longest time. But it would just be so horrible if we kissed and he didn't feel the same way about me. Not to mention, our friendship would be practically ruined.

"Y/N,” he said, waving his hand in front of my face. 

“Oh sorry what did you say?” We stopped walking as we reached the broom shack, and I stepped into the cramped, dark space. I felt George step in behind me. I turned to look at him. George sighed. 

“I said...” He paused scratching behind his ears, which had began to go red. “Well, apparently we weren’t supposed to know, but it was easy enough to get out of Ron. But we uh- we kissed last night,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor.

“I know,” I said, turning around and grabbing the empty bottles as an excuse not to look at George.

“You know?” he asked, confused. “Then why did you make me tell you?”

Now it was my turn to stutter. “Well- I just- I wanted to see if they told you the same story.” He looked at me. 

“Y/N, I’ve known you since we were seven years old. I can tell when you’re lying. What was the reason?” I sighed.

“I wanted to see how you felt about it.” I looked anywhere but his eyes.

“Oh,” he said looking surprised. “I mean I thought that part was pretty obvious. I’ve been wanting to do that forever. I was just always to scared you wouldn’t feel the same way, and that it would ruin our friendship.” He sighed again. “Some Gryffindor I am, needing a bottle of Firewhiskey to kiss the girl I fancy.” I snapped out of the daze I had entered when he started talking. George fancied me? “Anyways,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you feel awkward, and i would never want to ruin our friendship-”

“George,” i said, laughing, cutting off his rambling. I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” He blinked. “Forever.” He smiled, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Forever?” he asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Well then this worked out rather well, didn’t it?” he said, leaning down. 

“Yes, I would say it did,” I replied, connecting our lips again.

.........................................................................................................

“Do you think we should tell them that they didn’t actually kiss last night?” asked Ginny, watching Y/N and George walk out of the broom shack hand in hand. She looked over at her brother.

“No I don’t think so,” her brother said, his eyes still on the couple. “Besides, if we hadn’t done something, those two never would have told each other they had feelings for one another. And I don’t think I could’ve taken much more of George’s whining about her. ‘Oh Fred, I like her so much, her hair smells so good, do you think she likes me too?’ Merlin, it never stopped!”

“Do you think Y/N didn’t talk about him all the time too? ‘Do you think he noticed me in Qudditch today? Did you know George held my hand today?’ Honestly, it’s a miracle they were able to admit they had feelings to each other even with the plan. My god, they are so blind.”

“But the plan worked, sis. Mission accomplished.”

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 9

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Too close to the sun (239): A reference to the myth of Icarus; his father built him wings so that they could escape from a tower they were trapped in. Upon gaining his freedom for the first time in years, Icarus celebrated by flying as high as he could. The sun melted the wax on his wings, and they fell apart, leaving him to plummet to his death.

Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens (239): Alexander Hamilton was an American politician, and John Laurens was a revolutionary fighter and abolitionist. Every biography of either of them is like “yeah wow they sure were GOOD FRIENDS” or “They had a ROMANTIC FRIENDSHIP” (an actual phrase I just read). 

Chernow’s biography (240): The most popular biography of Alexander Hamilton; the one that the 2016 musical Hamilton is based on. He concludes that “at the very least, we can say that Hamilton developed something like an adolescent crush on his friend”.

King George III (242): The king against whom the American colonies revolted.

Eliza (243): Eliza Schuyler Hamilton was Alexander Hamilton’s wife. The pair absolutely adored each other, and according to at least one of Hamilton’s letters to Laurens, she was conscious of and completely alright with their relationship (and also maybe down for a three-way).

Allen Ginsberg to a Peter Orlovsky (245): Allen Ginsberg was an American poet of the Beat movement, which was characterized by a dissatisfaction with 1950s America. Peter Orlovsky was an actor and took up poetry after beginning his open relationship with Ginsberg. The pair continued this relationship until Ginsberg’s death in 1997.

Henry James to Hendrix C. Andersen* (247): Henry James was an American/British writer whose works often explore the contrast and overlap between those two cultures. Hendrix C. Andersen a sculptor (known for a sculpture of Jacob, um... “wrestling” an angel). The two met in Rome in 1899, and James immediately bought a bust sculpted by Andersen, which he placed above his mantle, declaring “I shall have him constantly before me as a loved companion and friend”. (more, including a deeply gay love letter)

“Loco in Acapulco” (248): A 1988 song by the Four Tops about partying in Acapulco, a Mexican beach city. (listen here)

Chambray (249): Chambray is a fabric native to South France, it is lightweight and made of a weave of light colored and white threads.

“Here You Come Again” (249): A 1977 country/pop song recorded/performed by Dolly Parton, about a lover coming back into her life. (listen here)

“Summertime” (249): A DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince hip-hop song from 1991 about how summer is a break from the hectic rest of the world. (listen here)

45 (249): Texas State Highway 45 runs in a loop around Austin.

Mexican Coke (250): Coca-Cola made in Mexico is typically made with cane sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup, and many believe that gives it a more natural taste.

Lake LBJ (250): The history behind this lake is pretty well covered in the book, but it is popular for boating and water skiing because of its normally constant water level (meaning it is not significantly impacted by things like rainfall or other weather issues). 

“Jumbo”** (250): LBJ apparently had a sizeable “little” friend. He tried to have the White House shower altered so to have a stream shooting directly onto it. He would show it to people all the time. He asked to have his pants tailored to accommodate it.  

Henry VIII*** (250): Henry VIII is a British king best known for taking six wives, most of whom he either killed or divorced after they failed to give birth to sons. He invented the Church of England so that he could legally divorce his first wife and it went downhill from there. 

Strawberry daiquiris (250): A strawberry daiquiri is a mix of rum, sugar, and citrus. They are often frozen and are a popular summer drink.

Hacienda school of home decor (251): “Hacienda” is the Spanish word for an estate; this style is typically defined by high ceilings, open, arched doorways, and sprawling floor plans. “Hacienda” homes are associated with Mexico and the Southwest United States, and are generally designed as cozy outdoor/indoor spaces.

Pemberton Heights (252): One of Austin’s wealthiest and most historic neighborhoods.

Chente (252): Vincente ”Chente” Fernández Gómez is a Mexican actor and musician known as “El Rey de la Música Ranchera" (The King of Ranchera Music). He started his career playing for tips on the street, but has since risen to stardom. (listen here and here)

Cotija and crema (253): Cotija is a Mexican cheese, and Mexican crema is a thickened cream often used as a topping for Mexican foods. 

Elotes (253): Elote, or Mexican street corn, is a popular summer dish made with sweet corn covered in crema, cotija, chili powder, and a variety of other toppings.

Candy-ass (254): A wimp or person who’s not especially tough.

“Not bad for a European” (254): The general stereotype in the US is that European folks, especially English folks, are generally smart, but not very tough.

Santa Maria (256): Saint Mary, the mother of Jesus and greatest of all Catholic saints.

Tamales with salsa verde (256): Tamales are a Mexican dish made of a corn dough wrapped and steamed in corn husks, and salsa verde is a tomatillo-based salsa. Tamales are often made with help from an assembly line of family members. 

Frijoles charros (256): Frijoles charros, or “cowboy beans”, are a Mexican dish made of pinto beans stewed with onions, garlic, bacon, and other elements such as meat, peppers, tomatoes, and cilantro.

Sangria (256): An alcoholic beverage from Spain made of red wine mixed with fruit.

Johnny Cash (256): An American musician who began his career as a country singer, but branched out into rock and gospel as well. He was known for his humility and his free prison concerts, and for context within the book, June is named after his wife. (listen here and here)

Selena (256): Selena Quintanilla-Pérez was a Mexican-American singer/ songwriter/ model/ spokesperson who is known for catapulting Tejano or Tex-Mex music into the mainstream. (listen here and here)

Fleetwood Mac (256): Fleetwood Mac is a British-American pop rock band formed in 1967. (listen here and here)

“Annie’s Song” (256): A John Denver song written as an ode to his wife; she described it as “a love song [that] became a bit of a prayer”. (listen here)

Chile de árbol (257): A small, potent chili native to Mexico.

Jazz brunch (258): A brunch with a jazz trio playing in the background. They’re typically associated with older folks on vacation.

Migas (262): Mexican migas is a traditional breakfast dish made of a crispy tortilla with scrambled eggs on top. The Tex-Mex variation includes extra ingredients like onions, peppers, tomatoes, cheese, or salsa.

The heir and the spare (263): This refers to the idea that a king should have at least two sons: one to be the heir to his throne, and a backup “spare” to keep the kingdom from a succession war in case that first died. 

------

*Fun fact; Hendrik Andersen is related to Hans Christian Andersen (the fairy tale author), who was also queer!

** I now know... far too much about this.

*** The musical Six gives each wife a stage to voice their side of the story, and it’s very good.

----

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 10 

[varibean]

figuring out how to fit

ch 1 of a multi chapter fic! 

It had taken them a few days to get back on their feet, the thrill of the Chickeraffe chase slowly leaving their systems only to be replaced with the dread of figuring out what to do next. There were many things that they wanted to do of course, but as was the way of the world adventure cost bruckles and the only way to get them (legally that is) was with a job. 

Sam, as charming as he was, had never held down an honest job before. His energy and smile were infectious, everyone who came in contact with him could agree that no matter what he decided to do, he would do it with a spirit that couldn’t be beat. However that itself was a problem. Though he was a Who of many skills, none of those skills could technically be considered among the legal variety. He had the charisma, but not the work experience to match. 

Guy on the other hand had the experience and the know how, it was getting through the front door that was the problem. Though inventing was his passion, he was well equipped to do just about anything the market called for; whether it be paint watching, flubberhorn polishing, vipperyvip repair, or filing. But even after his adventure, he lacked a certain level of charm that could dazzle an interviewer and set him apart from the hundreds of other applicants. 

In their short rut period Michellee had, of course, put them up at her house for a while, something both of them were eternally grateful for. Sam would cook breakfast in return and Guy helped E.B with her homework and pandog catching inventions. It was a nice set up for a few days, but there was a limit to how long a couch and a lounge chair were comfortable and even without that fact in mind, both Guy and Sam were a bit restless. 

Michellee constantly insisted that they were both fine to stay for as long as they needed, even going as far as to joke that they could stay forever if that’s what they desired. But they both knew they could never do that to her, couldn’t abuse her kindness in such a way. Sam had never stayed with so many people in one place before and even with the constant job hunt Guy felt like he would become an unspoken burden to the kind hearted Michellee.

Luckily, the question of how long they would need to stay was answered faster than anticipated. The worry and festering feelings of becoming a nuisance were lifted when, two weeks into the search, Guy found a job. 

He discovered that, while all of his own inventions exploded, repairing other’s inventions seemed to be a success. It was a fact that came as both a relief-he would get to work in the field he loved-and a bit of a blow to his pride-the thought that maybe it wasn’t his inventions that were wrong, maybe it was just him. But steady work was steady work and if he was meant to be an Domahicky Repair Man, then so be it. 

One week and his first paycheck later, Guy and Sam found their own apartment a city over. E.B had been upset that her friends were leaving but still smiled a teary goodbye as she hugged Sam goodbye, making him promise to visit on the weekends and to call her with a report of all the new adventures he was sure to have in the city. Michellee insisted that they could stay longer, save up a bit more money, but in the end she too relented on the Weekend Visit condition along with the frequent phone call. 

“Remember, we’re just half an hour away if you need us.” Michellee said as Guy finished loading his and Sam’s matching briefcases into the taxi.

“I think I recall you saying that once or twice in the last ten minutes.”

“I mean it Guy, if you need anything at all just ask. Bruckles, home decor, someone to talk to…”

Michellee’s voice trailed off at the end as she looked up at Guy with a smile. They’d both decided a few days after Mr. Jenkins went home that they were better off as just friends, but Guy had been telling the truth when he said she made him feel safe. Something about her calmed him in a way that few other people could. She’d become his confidant and in return he was her’s. It was a comfortable friendship, an easy going understanding that they shared between each other. 

“And good luck with-” Before Michellee could finish, she was interrupted by Sam sticking his head out the taxi window.

“Come on N.A.B-New Apartment Buddy-we gotta hit the road if we want to beat lower Sneetch Town traffic!”

Guy rolled his eyes and gave Michellee and apologetic smile before hugging her and climbing in the back of the taxi with Sam.

They both waved behind them at Michellee and E.B until the two Whos faded into dots in the distance. 

Sam threw his arm around Guy and pumped a fist excitedly in the air.

“Onto the next adventure!” 

___________

It hadn’t been discussed beforehand that Sam would move in with Guy, it had just been a given like so many other things in their relationship. Guy didn’t even question Sam’s correct assumption that they would be moving in together when the news dropped that he found a job and a nice little place to live in the lower Whoville area. He even brought Sam to the place a few days before moving just to get the other’s approval.

The apartment was small, the front door leading right into the tiny living room, the kitchen attached to that, another door leading to the bedroom, and a small bathroom on the side. It was fine for them, they both agreed. Guy didn’t need much space and Sam spent most of his days outside as it was. 

The first week after moving in there had been a period of adjusting, of making the area their own. Sam stocked the fridge with green eggs and packaged ham, leaving Guy to follow up behind him and put actual food in there as well. 

Sam also seemed to have a knack for decorating as well. His decor wasn’t exactly tidy, but it wasn’t sloppy either. It was an endearing sort of messy; splashes of colors everywhere with trinkets placed on all available surfaces. It only took a few days for the cookie cutter apartment to become an area that felt almost like home. A month ago, Guy would abhor the bright painted colors, the various useless things decorating the wall, the odd additions to the counters and side tables. But now he looked at them with a certain level of fondness that he hadn’t felt in a long time; the crowded living area wasn’t crowded at all, in fact, the more Sam added too it the easier it was to breathe. 

It was as if the life given to the room was radiating out and infecting him with his own splashes of color. When Guy came home, it was with a smile and a fond sigh as he looked around at the area that was slowly shaping to become theirs. 

Sam was also more than happy with their arrangement. Still struggling to find a job and give up his past life, after the decorating was done in the first few days he threw himself into helping around the community. By the end of the first week he had introduced himself to the neighbors, walked around town acquainting himself with the locals, and familiarized himself with the best diners in town. He wasn’t bringing in an income yet but that didn’t matter at all to Guy. Seeing the little Who exhausted and smiling from a day full of social interaction and free of crime was enough to give them both a sense of peace. 

Of course, there were slight drawbacks. The job Guy found was nice, but he didn’t get paid an extraordinary amount. It was enough to keep them both content, but there were certain things they had to cut back on. 

Their dishware was bought second hand, the pieces they were missing replaced with reusable plastic. Organic eggs and ham were out of the question, along with eating out for anything that wasn’t take out. Couponing became a must and Guy was always on the lookout for a sale. Most of their furniture came mix matched from thrift shops and online marketplace sales. 

But there was one thing that stood out the most among all of the little cutbacks: The apartment only had one bed. _____________

The first night they spent in the new apartment Guy was only mildly surprised that there was only one bed. The landlord had assured him that sleeping accommodations would be included with the down payment, but staring at the bed and thinking back to the conversation Guy realized that he hadn’t specified that this single bedroom would be shared by two people. An oversight on his part. 

“I guess this makes us Same-Bed-Buddies too huh?” Sam joked, but there was an unusual tension to his tone, as if he were more upset with the arrangement than Guy was. 

“After being shipped in a box with you this might as well be a California King.” 

Sam laughed in response and then threw himself onto the mattress, giving it a good bounce. 

Guy thought that would be the end of it and prepared himself to get nuzzled to near death in his sleep, but later that night he was surprised to find how reserved Sam was.

The little Who would toss and turn, inching closer to Guy, then suddenly catch himself and scoot back as if he were in trouble. It was odd, considering how touchy Sam was during all other aspects of their life. Guy mused that maybe he was trying to give him his space; they’d learned a lot about each other on their adventure, including how to be more considerate of each other’s boundaries. It was a sweet thought if true, even if a bit misguided.

An hour was spent with Sam tossing in a restless sleep and Guy, eyes wide awake, growing more and more frustrated as each minute passed. There was sadness mixed in there as well; the realization that this must’ve been how Sam always slept, twitching and alone and desperate to cling but being unable to find anything (or anyone) to hold.

The tossing and turning got to such a point that Guy’s nerves just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Oh for the love of yip, just come here.” 

A groggy Sam slowly opened one eye, trying to take in the dark surroundings, but before he could respond to what was going on, Guy pulled him into his arms.

The little Who was still for a moment, the shock of being woken up and pulled into an embrace rendering him silent for a rare moment. After a minute or two, he wrapped his arms around Guy and buried his face into the soft ring of fluff around the Knox’s neck. 

“You’re kinda chubby.” Sam said sleepily, voice muffled by fur. 

The Who must’ve felt a rebuttal coming because he soon followed his words with a content sigh and pressed his body closer against Guy’s.

“I like it…’s comfy.” 

There was nothing Guy could say to that. Sam seemed to drift off into a now much quieter sleep, warm and contently pressed against Guy’s weight and soft fluff. 

Guy had to admit to himself that he didn’t hate the scenario. Quite the opposite in fact. He found that he enjoyed the feeling of Sam wrapped around him, the other’s little body tucked perfectly against him as Guy adjusted his arms so that they wrapped around his friend in return. Something about the feeling was...safe. Secure. The only drawback in his mind was that at some point in the morning, he would have to let go. 

That night they both slept with more peace than either had felt in a long time. 

[newagexheroes]

Elise sat with her arms crossed over her chest, seated in a chair that once belonged to Tony Stark. After the original Avengers had passed on, Stark Industries had fallen nearly to dust. Though thankfully Elise was able to win at least the rights to all of Tony’s intellectual property so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands -- as a memorial to them all the Avenger’s Facility stays standing, were Elise runs the new group of young unruly superheros. She took the liberty of making Tony’s office somewhat of her own. She merely just uses it as a place where she can be found.. Everything still belongs to Tony -- right down to JARVIS.  

“I hope you know I’m having a pretty hard time believing you. -- You show up here unannounced, claiming that you’re gathering a team of the strongest heroes to travel across different universes to fight a creature that is destroying them in its path, and expect me to just abandon my own universe?” The woman across from Elise seems to nod easily, as if it was a reasonable request. 

“What makes me the woman for the job? You’ve got plenty of young spry heroes around here to choose from..” Elise of course was asking rhetorically, not truly expecting an answer. 

“-- They won’t know how to work with these other people, but you will.”  The mutant explains, sitting forward a bit in her seat as she hands over a file. “The one universe to survive Thanos.” Elise’s stomach dropped, and she swears that her heart jumps from her chest. Her senses were suddenly full of ash and blood, the weight of the bracelet that sits on Elise’s arm that Tony made for her out of Bucky’s arm feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. 

“Every - single - person.” The mutant answers a question, that Elise wanted the answer to but didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Who said I was going with you?” Elise questions.

“The look on your face.” And Magik is right. A universe where everyone she holds dear is back? Elise would be a fool not to go, not to just see them all again. “I’ll inform them you’re coming, I’ve already collected a few mutants from other places -- That universe’s Stark will have a room for you when I come and get you tomorrow. Be ready.” 

Without another word, Magik disappears from view and Elise is left there with the file that sits far too close to her for comfort. Though she has to read it, she knows she does. So reaching over, Elise opens the file -- its a rather all encompassing explanation of Thanos’ defeat. Elise smiles to herself, she can tell it was written by Steve. The words flow together easily, she almost expects there to be diagrams drawn by his hand as she continues to look through the pages. She could feel the tears start to well in her eyes the further she read, Carol got the chance to snap in that universe and saved them all. A wave of jealousy washed over her, jealous that they all got to survive.. And that all of hers had to die. But was her chance, a moment to have closure, to be able to really say goodbye this time.

So Elise called a group meeting in, the young superheroes all sat at attention as she explained. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or if I’ll even be back. This threat is not just their universe, it’s ours too. We have our own troubles here and you all know it, so I need you all to stay here and defend just as you are. You all will tell no one I’ve gone, Stark’s inventions need to remain the property of the Avengers and the Avengers only. I’m passing the torch now. You are the Avengers. You’re duty is to protect this earth and everyone one it. I trust in all of you.” 

It wasn’t so much as a tearful goodbye but a good send off. Elise had bigger fish to fry than some silly bad guys trying to rule earth, she’s got a whole goddamn multiverse to protect now. The nerves really started to set in once she was finally alone, packing up clothing. Her fingers run over the worn cloth of Bucky and Steve’s clothing as she packs it into a bag. If Elise is not to make it back, she doesn’t want anyone to have any of their things. She feels.. entitled to them. Elise is sure to pack her suit, the one that resembles her boys closely. Her stomach gives a sick turn, she’ll see them again. According to what she read in the report.. Bucky is alive. Her Bucky died long before Thanos came along, Hydra’s revenge -- if they couldn’t have him no one could. Elise slowly zipped up her bag, everything she needed was now stored away in one duffel bag. The night passed slowly, what little sleep she got, it was all bad dreams, just reliving death over and over again -- tormented by it. So when Magik finally arrived, Elise was exhausted already, hands shaking as she pressed the blue button on her bracelet, the metal coats her arm like an armor. Elise grips her shield a little tighter as the other woman opens up a portal.

“By the way, I didn’t tell you before but I don’t think you existed in this universe. So take it easy on them..” Elise hardly had time to process what she had said before Magik was taking her arm and pulling in after her. The light was blinding and Elise felt a thousand pounds and light as a feather all at once. Before she knew it, Elise was suddenly in a very familiar room.. though these faces were not ones Elise has seen in awhile. All eyes were on Elise, well -- more so her metal arm and her shield, both very similar to men they know.

“This is Elise Burke, on her universe she’s known as Captain Winter.” Magik informs the group of avengers and it’s taking everything in Elise not to lose herself right now. Her hands shake violently but she schools her face, forcing herself to think about her Hydra days -- remembering how to keep her composure. Though murmurs break across the room, Elise keeps her gaze trained away from the two people she knows will break her. Elise forces herself to give a nod to those around her, eyes hardly focusing in on one person. This was a hell of a whole lot more challenging than she expected to be. “We’re glad to have you here to help.” The voice made chills run down her spine. She hadn’t heard that voice in years and even then she didn’t have to look to know who it belonged to. It was a challenge in itself to hear his voice but to then look over at him was like a physical blow. The last time she had seen Steve, he couldn’t even speak -- she had heard his heartbeat stop and his breathing disappear. Yet here he was, standing broad shouldered, his uniform closely matching the one that she was now wearing. His hand rested on his utility belt, like it always did when he was in Captain mode. It would have made her smile if she wasn’t trying not to cry. Elise took a step forward, offering out her metal hand to shake, her other still gripping the shield in a death grip to keep from giving away her shaking hands. “It’s my honor.” Elise responds back easily, thanking whatever god is out there that her voice came out even. Taking a step back, Elise let her gaze finally fall over to Bucky, another blow to her chest. It had been even longer since she’d see Bucky.. Though here he looks different, just a little bit. He has more lines on his face, his shoulders look heavier, and dare she say sad. The urge to cross the room and cradle is face is strong, all she wants to do is fix that look on his face.. To make whatever he’s feeling better. Though she refrains, as she begins to make her rounds introducing herself. Next to Bucky, he decides to shake her hand with his good one. The rest was a bit of a blur to Elise.. She finished introducing herself the rest of the team, despite it feeling wrong to her. She already knew them too well she might say but she knew them.. And yet they all looked at her like a stranger. 

Elise was led to her room by a SHIELD agent, she was staying near the training floors. When she was finally alone is when Elise let herself break down. The door barely closed behind her before the first cry left her lips. Her back hit the door with a soft thud as she slid down it. Her shield hits the floor next to her as she just lets herself collapse. Elise hadn’t realized how hard this was going to be. She had built something up so different in her head, that this would somehow be closure. But god, she was wrong -- this was just opening up old wounds. Wounds that Elise had barely stitched together, and now she has ripped them open with her teeth. 

The next morning wasn’t much easier, she was woken up at the crack of dawn by the rudest intern they must have had. A loud bang -- bang -- bang on her door at Elise at alert not rolling out of bed. Shield already in hand before realizing it had been a wake up call. “Breakfast downstairs, training in 30.” Elise ate breakfast on her own, not wanting to sit with anyone in the little cafeteria. She sat on her own, outside -- she wasn’t ready to sit down and chat with people that she had seen die. So she mostly picked at her breakfast, not feeling all that hungry, maybe it was from the interdimensional travel or maybe it was the odd grief that was filling every inch of her body. She didn’t realize how long she had been just staring at her food until Natasha was sliding out of the door.

“We’re testing all you newbies out downstairs -- you can follow me.” Nat informed her.

“I know where it is, I have to grab something from my room. I will meet you down there.” Elise rose from her spot and headed towards her room. Tucked away under the comforter was Basil, her snake that she had a telepathic connection with. She had snuck the snake in her bag. Elise will find time to get her a proper enclosure once she’s settled but for now Basil is content sleeping with Elise. Carefully slipping her hand over the covers the snake curls onto her hand. Let’s go scare some new avengers. 

Elise knew the place well enough and that meant so does Basil. The snake slithers a different direction than Elise but she knows the snake will make an appearance and scare whoever Elise is paired up against. A line of people stood on the lower floor of the training room, Elise had no idea who any of them were, so she figured that’s where she’s supposed to be. In the mood to show off, Elise jumped from the platform onto the floor with light feet. She joined the line up with the others, truly wondering how much combat training they had. No one in this room expect her knew she had been trained by Hydra, experimented on by Hydra. She’ll be much stronger than anyone expects and that’s what she’s counting on. 

Ready. A gentle voice in her head informs her, Basil laying low somewhere nearby. This is training, no lethal. Elise informs the snake, knowing if she doesn’t Basil might go overboard. She is just a snake after all. 

As each of the Avengers was paired off, Elise was matched up with Nat. Without all of Elise’s extra assets, they two would be pretty evenly matched -- at least they were back in her universe. She could assume the same here. With a quick push of a button, metal coated her arm and Elise stood her ground. 

The room falls still, silence as everyone looks on, the two women locked eyes -- a bit of moment between the two, each daring the other to move first. Nat made the first move and Elise had all the advantages here -- she had known Nat in another life, knows the moves she likes to deal out first -- which she’ll use in desperation. Elise supposes eventually she’ll have to tell them that she knows all their weaknesses but that can wait for a little later. Nat wasn’t one one to pull her punches, and frankly Elise wasn’t either. The fight a little more brutal than the rest, but Elise expected as much. A few hits to the face from each other had Elise pulling out her best and favorite asset. 

Basil, go. Remember, training. Elise orders the snake, and she decides to help Basil out -- she decides to go on the offense. Using the metal arm, she pulls her punches a little bit, not wanting to actually harm the other woman -- with it’s full force she knew it could. When Elise felt the snake slip between her legs that when she stumbled backwards. It was a quick movement, one they’d dome a million times before. Basil shot out from her coil, heading straight for the other woman’s neck. Basil wrapped around her neck quickly, forming more of a choker necklace rather than actually choking the woman.

There was a commotion from the platform above, obviously Elise had gotten their attention. With Nat’s focus on attempting to free the snake from her neck, the blonde took the moment to finish this. With a crouch and a swift kick to her legs, Elise sends Nat to the floor. 

Basil, feet. She tells the snake as Elise’s metal hand replaces where the reptile once laid. Though she doesn’t squeeze, her hand and knees on Nat’s arms keep the other woman in place. Basil wraps eagerly the woman’s feet, this time squeezing so that Nat can’t break the hold. It feels better than she expects to fight alongside her friend.. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to train with people on her level. 

“I hope you don’t hate surprises.” Elise teases a bit as she backs off and Basil takes the notion and releases as well, happily trailing up the woman’s back to sit on Elise’s shoulder. The woman offers a hand down to Nat and helps her to her feet. 

Elise’s eyes look up to the top platform, she can feel the restless energy. “You got a two for one deal, sorry I forgot to mention. This is Basil, we communicate telepathically.. Hydra took their snake kink a little too literally.” She raises her metal arm to gently pet the snake’s head. 

The blonde feels a little more like herself, a little more at home. This is how it’s supposed to be..

“So, who’s next?” 

[the-coconut-asado]

Oh Stumptown my Stumptown!

Portland likes to keep it weird. Officially. You could even buy the tee shirt if tee shirts weren’t so predictable.   

From a poster invitation to “Hear my TED Talk about DIY and Impending Doom” to the Big Legrowlski (sic) night club that hangs carpets on the walls -  not to balance the sound for the band but because they really bring the room together -  the City has an off-beat vibe that feels authentic even while it gets you scratching your head. And where else would you queue round the block for a voodoo-doll shaped doughnut with a pretzel stick through its ‘heart’?

You probably won’t be surprised when I tell you that Portland is  the Hipster Capital of the World. You know it’s hipster because it sells more coffee and has more microbreweries per head than anywhere else in the US.

We came for the food because People That Know told us to. It’s not simply that everything is delicious but that chefs, cooks, carts and food enthusiasts are trying to do different. It’s like Masterchef has landed in Twin Peaks. Entrepreneurs are making ice cream out of chickpeas and it works. A pastry chef has re-interpreted her favourite childhood book on a plate and you rejoice in the complex flavours of her tiny reconstructed bunny. So who’s the bunny boiler now?

One thing that puzzled me is why the City changed its name from the original Stumptown (pretty weird) to Portland (the Holiday Inn of city names). Devon, a local lawyer who we chatted to most mornings in Baristas Cafe, explained that Portland was never officially called Stumptown.  It became its nickname due to all the trees they had to cut down to build it, leaving the eponymous stumps in their wake. Stumptown is also the name of their iconic coffee brand, which I always assumed was NYC’s greatest invention. This is one of the many ways in which travel expands your mind.

Devon embodied something else about Portland: its friendliness. Even the passport officers are anxious that you have a good time. Full disclosure,  it wasn’t just Devon that we sought out each morning - it was Pepper, his cute little dog. I would eat Barista’s fresh, flaky rhubarb hand pie just to drop crumbs that Pepper would breakfast on. 

Devon put us onto a couple of great places to eat - one we made it to, one we didn’t. But more of that later.

Where to begin to describe this steel guitar food odyssey? Let me take you through our many highlights from the  mountain of food we consumed. Set it to the soundtrack of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Thing.

Our first evening, tired and hungry, we stuck to our guns and found Andina, the City’s Peruvian eatery. When you are both tired and hungry it’s easy to get seduced by posters boasting ‘Meatball Monday’ and forget your mission, but our persistence paid off. That legendary Portlandia hospitality squeezed us into a nook where there really wasn’t a free table, and we dined greedily on humitas, ceviche, lamb shank and seafood, washed down with Oregon’s finest home-grown Pinot Gris. I didn’t quibble that they brought something different from my order. In my fractured Spanish ‘Arroz con Pato’ probably did sound like ‘Seafood Risotto’  - and the risotto was obviously going to be delicious before fork met lip, so I didn’t send it back.

Next day, which coincidentally was Taco Tuesday, we hit the street food. 

Portland is big on street food (see: hipster capital of the world). Most food vendors have carts - permanent fixtures where the chef builds enough of a following over months or years to be able to open a small restaurant. Nong’s Khao Man Gai was just one of these. They do one dish - a Vietnamese poached chicken with a secret chilli sauce, accompanied by rice cooked in the chicken broth. You can also have a version with shrimp, pork or Tofu. We bought a bottle of the sauce to bring home. Life’s too short.

It’s not all carts - there are a fair few trucks too. 

One which specialised in cheese toasties challenged “ Come and relive the taste of your childhood. But if your childhood sucked, we’ll share the memory of ours”. Have you eaten a cheese toastie recently? I mean really felt the embrace of  a sandwich of molten cheese and fried bread? Maybe your childhood did suck after all.

That evening it was the turn of The Hairy Lobster restaurant, and that bunny dessert I mentioned earlier. Little Bunny Foo Foo to give it it’s full name. A delicate carrot cake, covered in cheesecake mousse, accompanied by a ginger crumb, caramel sauce and a marshmallow rabbit. 

Despite it’s show-stopping appearance and fusion of flavours, it was their roast squash with curry sauce and pumpkin seed praline that was the stand-out dish for me. The Lobster picnic for our main was pretty damn good too.

Friday brings me to Devon’s first recommendation, Pok Pok,  a teeny Thai eatery in the suburbs. Getting there had the added advantage of passing through a neighbourhood full of rambling old houses in the Amityville Horror style. I recalled the first time I had heard of Portland was from a TV thriller full of witches and jabberwocks called Grimm. They had definitely filmed it’s eerily beautiful moments around here.

If I had to single out a food highlight in a week of next-to-no food lows, I would choose Pok Pok. It gave me my first food coma in a long while. Something about it’s smoked aubergine, pork belly curry, marinated chicken with two dips, sublime mango with sticky rice and that rhubarb blush cocktail… I sense I am sharing my food coma with you now. Their signature dish is hot spicy chicken wings. The couple on the table next to us were too full to finish theirs so offered them to us. Maybe it was the wings that tipped me over the edge. I’ll never know.

And so to our last day, and the big daddy of Portland nights out: Jake’s Crawfish. Over 100 years old, walking into Jake’s is like walking into one of Sinatra’s memories. It has a justifiably stellar reputation, and seems to have maintained it for a century. I ate Steel-head trout for the first time, fished on their doorstep from Oregon’s Columbia River, coated with a horseradish crust, and preceded by half a dozen of the plumpest oysters I have ever eaten.

I haven’t yet mentioned Portland’s biggest hipster foodie habit: brunch. No matter what day of the week, the restaurants that brunch are always full. For most of our trip, we were waking up too early to really do brunch justice. Those rhubarb hand pies at Baristas had satisfied our hunger by around 8AM so a mid-morning banquet wasn’t really on. One day, however, we made it to Tasty & Alder in the Pearl DIstrict of the city and managed to sneak in a table for two before the queues built up. Worth it for their Green Frittata with salsa verde (who ever thought of doing that before?) and lightest, fluffiest American biscuits. We never made it to Devon’s second recommendation: Burmasphere, his friend’s Burmese cart on the other side of the river. And now we have an excuse to return.

When it came to rustling up some recipes that take me straight back to Portland weird, I whittled my list down to three: my version of Tasty & Alders’ green frittata with feta and salsa verde; a less labour-intensive version of Andina’s Arroz con Pato, made with chicken or guinea fowl; and in the spirit of weird, though by no means original, a cake inspired by Churros con Chocolate. The best possible end to a Taco Tuesday.

I messaged a friend of mine that had moved to Portland a few years back and asked why she had ever left. “ Too much rain and not enough art.” she said.  

You missed the point Sweetie. Great Food IS great art. And if you can’t stand the rain, get into the kitchen.

Green Frittata with Feta and Salsa Verde

A great little brunchy-lunch dish packed with flavour for the carb-conscious. If you want to add some carbs, slices of toasted sourdough will go down a treat. Serves 4

Ingredients

8 large free-range eggs

1tblspn, double cream

100g asparagus spears, chopped into 2 cm chunks

100g shelled garden peas or petit pois

50g feta cheese

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the salsa verde:

Small pack of flat-leaf parsley (around 15-20g)

½ a small pack of mint leaves

3 tbsp. Capers

7 anchovy fillets

1 clove garlic

1 tbsp dijon mustard

8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

How to make:

Bring a small saucepan of salted water to the boil, then add the peas. After a couple of minutes, add the chopped asparagus and continue simmering for another 2 minutes. Drain and refresh under cold water. Put to one side.

Next, make the salsa verde. Put all the ingredients except the olive oil into a blender, season generously with pepper and go easier on the salt (anchovies and capers are already pretty salty). Then, add the olive oil and blend again. Don’t over blend at each step - it's nice to keep the texture a little rough.

Put a skillet on the stove and melt a knob of butter. Beat the eggs, add the cream and season. Lightly saute the green vegetables in the butter for a minute or two. 

 then pour the eggs over and crumble the feta cheese over the top. Cook for a couple of minutes until the bottom is starting to brown.

 pop under the grill to continue cooking, until the top is a light golden colour and the frittata has firmed up with a slight wobble (keep a close eye on this, probably takes 2-3 minutes).

Cut the frittata into 4 wedges and serve with a dollop of salsa verde on top.

Arroz con Gallina Picante

I never did get to eat Arroz con Pato in Andina, but while I adore the rich flavour of duck, devoting two or three days to confitting it before finishing the dish is only for the dedicated dinner party cook. This version with a spicy chicken and a feta-enriched herb sauce (based on a Melissa Clark recipe)  goes down just as well - or the richer Guinea Fowl, which I have used here. And Peruvian aji amarillo is now more available by mail order - substitute ordinary chile powder if not. Serves 4.

Ingredients:

1 medium-sized chicken or guinea fowl, jointed into 2 breasts, 2 drumsticks and 2 thighs (discard the back or freeze to make stock at a later date)

For the marinade:

6 garlic cloves, crushed

3 tbsp light soy sauce

1 tbsp paste made with aji amarillo powder and olive oil

Juice of 1 lime

1 tsp sriracha sauce

1 tsp. Dijon mustard

2 tsp ground cumin

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce:

½ a large bunch coriander leaves, broken up

2 jalapeno chilies, chopped

75g feta cheese, crumbled

1 garlic clove, crushed

Juice of 1-2 limes

2 tsp chopped fresh oregano

½ tsp dijon mustard

½ tbsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

1 tsp honey

1 tsp ground cumin

½ cup extra virgin olive oil.

For the Peruvian Rice:

3 tbsp sunflower oil

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 onion, finely chopped

3 heaped tsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

½ large bunch fresh coriander, broken up and blended till smooth with a tblspn water

500g fresh chicken stock

300g bottle of beer or lager

2 x small green chillies, chopped finely

500g basmati rice

1 red pepper, chopped into small chunks

100g fresh garden peas or petit pois

How to make

First, make the marinade. Mix all the marinade ingredients in a large bowl, cover the fowl of your choice in it, cover with cling film and pop in the fridge for at least 4 hours or overnight.

For the sauce: put all the ingredients into a blender, and blend till smooth. Pour into a bowl, cover and refrigerate, taking out about 15 minutes ahead of eating to bring to room temperature.

For the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a saucepan, add the onion and garlic and saute until starting to turn golden. Add the blended coriander and chili paste  and cook for a couple of minutes until the paste has thickened slightly and smells delicious.

Pour the beer into the saucepan, cook for a few minutes then add the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, season, then take off the heat, cover and put to one side.

Heat the oven to 200C. Pat  the chicken or guinea fowl pieces dry, then pop onto a shallow baking tray, season and drizzle with olive oil. Put the tray into the oven and roast for 35-40 minutes.

While the meat roasts, finish the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a medium sized saucepan, add the peppers and cook for a couple of minutes. Then add the rice and stir into the oil and peppers until it starts to crackle a little at the bottom. Add the peas and chilies and stir again, then add the stock, beer and onion garlic mix. Stir, season if needed, then cover and simmer on a low heat for 25 mins.

Fluff up the rice and spoon onto plates. Top with the chicken or guinea fowl pieces, and crown with a dollop of sauce.

Churros Bundt Cake with Dipping Chocolate Sauce

I love churros, and I love a Bundt cake. If you want all the flavours but none of the faffing or frying, then give this a try. The cake will keep, covered in a tin. Just remember to reheat the chocolate sauce for dipping or pouring each time. Serves 8-10

Ingredients:

For the cake:

2 ¾ cups plain flour

2 tsp. Baking powder

2 tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp. Salt

170g unsalted butter

130g caster sugar

50g soft brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 egg yolk

1 375g punnet of sour cream

2 tsp. Vanilla extract

For the cinnamon sugar ‘glaze’

2 tsp ground cinnamon

4 tsp caster sugar

For the chocolate sauce:

½ cup cocoa powder

Pinch chilli flakes

100g dark chocolate (70%)

1 cup double cream

½ cup dark brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

½ tsp cinnamon

How to make

Preheat the oven to 160C. Grease and flour a large bundt cake pan (make sure to get into all the nooks and crannies).

Beat the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl (ideally using an electric stand mixer) until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one and continue to mix between each addition, finishing with the egg yolk. Add the sour cream and vanilla extract and beat again until just incorporated.  Mix all the dry ingredients, add them to the butter and egg mix and fold in until smooth. 

Pour the cake batter into the bundt tin and bake for around 50-55 minutes until a skewer inserted near the middle comes out clean (I usually check the cake after 45 mins). Invert the cake onto a rack to cool.

Mix the remaining sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl. Melt the butter and paint all over the surface of the cake. Dust the cinnamon sugar over the buttered cake, making sure you pat it in places to stick.

To make the chocolate sauce. Pop all the ingredients into a saucepan, then cook, stirring constantly, on a low heat until the chocolate has melted, everything is smooth and custardy. Let it bubble slightly then turn off the heat.

Serve slices of the churros cake with warm chocolate sauce poured over. There are some who prefer their chocolate sauce served cold. That’s fine too.

[btskismet]

Kismet (Chapter 4): A BTS Jin imagines fanfic

First ever fanfic. Contains fluff and some smut. Please read sequentially as it is a long story arc. Please provide feedback! My IG is btskismet.

She was on a boat, skidding quickly to a destination. She was looking beyond the water but couldn’t see anything past it. Then a flash of light appeared and she was suddenly underwater. She first saw blue, then black and dark red. She could see movement of shapes in the water but couldn’t tell if they were fish... or something else.

Then she saw the ground, wet with rain. The water turned the ground to mud and around her were bodies of people. She was the only one sitting on the ground, her blue pants covered in mud. The other people around her were not moving. She was crying, her face wet from her tears and the strong rain. She looked up and could see men in front of her. Soldiers looking down at her.

She heard a soft click of a door and she opened her eyes.

It was a dream, she thought. She could see the white ceiling and was trying to remember the dream but as soon as she opened her eyes, she started to forget. All she had were fragments. But the feeling was there; she felt it in the pit of her stomach - this sadness and fear all bundled up from what she dreamt. 

She was so disoriented from her dream that it took her a minute to realize she was still in Japan. She recalled being at Ono-san’s restaurant. She has been there almost every night in Osaka. 

Seokjin... 

She looked beside her and the bed was empty. Was it a dream too, she thought. No, he was here.

She then felt the ache of her back, her thighs and down there. The good ache that told her she had a really enjoyable night.

Gosh, it’s been so long, she wondered with a smile. 

Everything came flooding back. Seokjin on top of her, his scent, his soft and torrid kisses, his shoulders all hunched up from grinding in her hard...

“Jin?”, she called out. The divider that separated the bedroom from the kitchen area was closed but she could sense that no one was on the other side. Maybe he’s in the bathroom, she thought to herself.

She stood up and wore a set of pajamas she got from the closet. All of her clothes from last night were on the floor. Ok, this is proof we had sex....

She checked the bathroom and it was empty. She decided to use it to freshen up. Better to wash away the sleep before he comes back, she thought as she was putting the toothpaste onto her toothbrush.

She realized that if he already left, he may not come back. So, she looked around and didn’t see his wallet, keycard and glasses. His shoes weren’t near the front door either.

I guess he had to leave right away. Gosh, what time is it? 

0730. He spent the whole night with her. She smiled but then eventually got worried because she thought of PDNim and the managers.

Oh no, they might fire him! I have to know what happened.

She frantically looked for her phone to text him through LINE. After she sent the message she heard a chime. Jin left his phone on top of the refrigerator. 

Craaaap! He left it! What do I do? I don’t even know which hotel he stays at!

She was about to wear her jeans to catch up to him but then Jin opened the front door.

“Joe eun a chim! Uhhh.. sorry, sorry. Good morning!”, he greeted her with a smile.

She looked at him and gave a sigh of relief. Jin had a few bags filled with food from Lawsons.

He went to the refrigerator and placed some drinks inside. He got his phone and checked it for a few seconds, set it aside and got the earpieces for the translator. He gave one to her and wore the other then gave her a soft peck on the lips which surprised her slightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. You were sound asleep.”, Jin said. “I checked if you had any food to cook for breakfast but all you had were eggs. Got a few things for us to eat. Yaaaa!”, he exclaimed and showed her the bags of food.

She smiled. She remembered that he wakes up at least 2 hours before the other BTS members so he most likely did the same thing to her.

“Are they not looking for you at the hotel? I thought you went back already. Jin, I am so worried that they will fire you or punish or both!”

Jin touched her nose and said tutt-tutt-tutt, waving his finger in front of her face. “Stop worrying. I texted them and told them that I am an adult. As long as I go back and be discreet, I should be able to keep my job. Besides, if they fire me, they will lose the most handsome visual with the awesome voice... who is also the best dancer!”

She raised one eyebrow at the last statement and said mmmmhmmm. 

“Wohh, you are mocking me with that expression! I am the best dancer in the group! Do you know that I invented the best dance steps in one of our songs! It was the greatest!”, Jin declared.

She laughed and said, “Do you mean the steps to ‘Spring Day” or the ones in ‘Spine Breaker’?”

“See! You know them! That’s because they were the best! They’re sooo complicated and you need to be very limber to do them!”, Jin replied and started doing the hand gestures he “invented” for Spring Day.

She laughed so hard that she was clutching onto the divider as he was flailing his arms around. He then smiled a big toothy grin and then hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Seriously though, please don’t worry. I will work it out. I don’t want to leave yet. I want us to eat first. I got us some yakiniku sticks and udon. Also some chocolate milk and hot coffee. Plus, I want to cook you an omelette!”

She felt so touched by how doting Jin was to her. She didn’t expect that he would offer to cook and it would be an honor just to try his cooking!

The time was spent him cooking the omelette and preparing the food. She wanted to help him and she was thrilled that he showed her how he cooked his omelette. It felt comfortable being beside him and assisting him in the cooking. She felt they were made to cook together and though it logically didn’t make sense to think that way, it just felt... right. 

They enjoyed the food they ate. Jin gave her bits of food every now and then with his chopsticks and it reminded her of the videos she saw of him feeding the maknaes. So, he really is like this, she thought. She felt grateful she had a chance to validate it for herself that Jin was being genuine in those videos.

She washed the dishes as Jin was checking his phone, furiously texting people. Or playing a mobile game? Gosh, she couldn’t tell. She’s seen more videos of him playing on his phone than texting but he held his phone upright now instead of horizontally.

“Is everything alright?”, she asked while still washing the dishes. Her worries were coming back and she wondered if anyone recognized him at Lawson’s this morning.

She felt Jin’s long arms around her waist as he hugged her from behind and softly kissed her neck. “Everything is fine. I will take care of things.”

“Alright. I trust you.”, she whispered.

0945. Outside the window, people could be seen walking around and on their way to work. Shops were opening up to get ready to welcome people by 10am. Saturday mornings in Osaka were busy and a mixture of locals and tourists could be seen walking about. The chimes of the arrival of the trains and the tones coming from the pedestrian cross walk can be heard in the distance. Just another cold but slightly sunny day in Osaka.

“We’ll be at dress rehearsal from three to six today.”, Jin said. “But we’ll have an interview with Fineboys magazine later at 1pm.”

“Guess that means you have to go then.”

Jin took her in his arms and gave her a long kiss. “You still have a week to stay here, right?”

She nodded. She saw Jin ruminating over this and then he said: “Alright. It’s our last day for our concert here in Japan tomorrow. Then the next one is in Taiwan after 2 weeks. I won’t go back to Korea with them after tomorrow night. I will stay with you.”

“Wait, what? Won’t they prevent you from doing that? I’m sure you have other engagements when you go back before the tour starts again.”, she said quickly. 

“It’s our time off for two weeks before we fly out to Taiwan so if there are any gigs before then, as long as it isn’t a performance, I can opt out.”

She sat down and motioned Jin to sit beside her.  “Seokjin, listen. I... don’t want to ruin your career. Trust me, what happened to us last night and today is magical and mind-blowing and... it’s indescribable. Never did I imagine in my whole life I would become intimate with you. It’s the stuff of fantasies.”

Jin smiled and winked at her after she said that which then made her giggle. “Stop that! I’m trying to be the voice of reason here.”

“And you are starting to sound like my manager. You’re my noona, not my manager.”, Jin said jokingly. He felt a hard slap on his right arm which made him shout waaaaahhh.

“Kim Seokjin, I’m trying to be serious here. I’m really worried for you. I care a lot about what happens to you and I know being involved with someone is against your contract.”

Jin raised his right eyebrow and said: “How do you know it is against my contract? Have you seen it?”

She opened her mouth to say something but she stopped midway. Yeah, he’s right, I haven’t seen it. I just assumed it would be.

Jin held her hands. “So, like I said earlier, I will take care of it. But I will stay with you after the concert and until you go back home. I want to travel with you. I don’t know how much time we will really have after next week but I want to spend as much time as I can possibly get. You know it, there’s something different about this. You and me. I can feel it in my bones. I want to know what that is and you can’t change my mind anymore.”

He squeezed her hands and she squeezed them back in agreement. 

“But... what about JK and Jimin? Won’t they tell on you?”

He smiled. “I never kept you as a secret to our manager since last night and I’m sure they didn’t as well. They love you and they enjoyed the time with you yesterday. So, they’ll be ok with this...”

She nodded as he was talking but interjected: “What about Namjoon? He’s your leader. Wouldn’t he have a say on this?”

Jin laughed, “He’s our leader but I’m still his hyung. Actually, I think he’s going to feel jealous instead. I have a girl and he doesn’t!” He smiled, feeling so proud of himself.

She felt that she was blushing as she tried to absorb what he said. He has a girl and that girl is me. Ohmigod.

A chime went off from his phone and he checked the message. “I sent them the location of this place so they can pick me up. They’re about 5 minutes away.”

He stood up and got all his things. He wore his face mask halfway and his glasses. He held her hand and brought her to the foyer so he could wear his shoes.

Jin then took her face into his long hands and said: “Plan our trip for next week. Let’s go wherever you want. If you want to go far, we can do that. Text me when you get back here later - I know you’ll go around today and if you’re still going to Nara, let me know. I just want you to be safe, alright?” 

She nodded with a soft smile. He handed the earpiece to her and then gave her a passionate kiss.

“Bogoshipda.”, Jin said before he brought up his face mask and stepped out.

She went to the balcony to see if the car was already there. She saw a black Starcraft van out front. She then saw two guys come out of the van, looking at the entrance to the building. When Jin came out, one guy patted him on the back and the other ushered him inside the van. Then the other guy looked up and saw her on the balcony. Despite the black mask, she recognized that it was Jungkook. He gave her a quick wave. She gave a meek wave back before JK went back inside the van. 

The van quickly sped out, tasked to bring Seokjin back to the hotel. She felt a wave of emotions after seeing him leave. Let’s wait and see then, she thought. 

“By tomorrow, I will know if this fantasy will continue.”, she said out loud before going back in to escape the cold air outside.

---- to be continued---

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DOM! You’ve been accepted for the role of HELENUS. Admin Jen: You have no idea how overjoyed we were to finally receive an application for Helenus, and Dom, you completely blew our expectations out of the water! I thoroughly enjoyed reading about what drew you towards Hugo; your passion really shone through and to see that it wasn’t directed solely towards him but towards so many other characters, it left me so thrilled to see all that your portrayal has to offer -- and it surely didn’t disappoint. The interview was fantastic, but I have to admit, it was the plots that had me sold on your Hugo. They were so intricate and well thought-out and I was living for the duality you explored in Hugo’s relationships with Roman and Halcyon. Trust me when I say that I cannot wait to see it all come to life on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias |  Dom

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers babey!

Activity Level | I mean, I go to college, and I may need a 20 min allowance to freak out over responses, but I’m consistent and enthusiastic.

Timezone | EST

In Character

Character | Helenus / Hugo Kim

What drew you to this character? | Honestly it was the relationship between him and Halcyon, who I know is Hippolyta from a Midsummer’s Night Dream, but struck me - within the context of Troilus and Cressida - reminded me the Greek’s relationship with Helen. This kind of fascination by people towards another person they confuse with the sublime is kind of incredible, and always misunderstanding, and generally tragic. Like Pierre, with Natasha, in War & Peace. I think Anne Carson does the most justice towards characters like Helen by acknowledging them as a characters that cannot be acknowledged - she is too large for those around her, and too large for the text itself (and its author) to understand her completely. For all her brightness, she is shrouded by accidental but inevitable misreading. I’d like to work with that misreading, and I think it would be fun to play with being confused like that.

That being said, I’m also interested in his relationship with Roman Montague. Who if Hippolyta is a sun to Helenus, then Romeo must be a warm spot at home. There exists a potential for a type of softness between them that I think could catalyze a really interesting stronghold for both of them.

I’ve read Troilus and Cressida of course, and all I remember of Helenus was his dual occupation as a priest in a soldier’s camp. He’s barely mentioned or active in the text - He has one line I think, against Troilus in their debate about returning Helen or not, and one off-hand description of him by Panderus in a line-up of men Cressida asks about. He’s not a soldier, and is not expected to fight, nor does Paris (?) arm him I think. The text is never kind to him. It reminds us time and time again that Helenus is not a soldier, and because of that, a coward. I don’t think anyone was supposed to be sympathetic to him until I read your adaptation of him. The line Troilus snipes at him with: “You are but dreams and slumbers, Brother Priest” takes on a much more poignant meaning with Diverona’s new addition of gentleness. It’s not so much an insult, but a reason why Helenus probably won’t last long in this war, the kind person he is now he’ll wake up from someday, him not much more than dream.

Also don’t get me started on debt, and brothers, and goodliness in the face of extreme acts of violence by your own hands.

Excited to work with Easton - Edmund is one of my favorite characters from Shakespeare’s list, and seems like another fun personality to work with. Damned brothers. Maybe Easton’s got some points.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

IT WILL COME BACK:

Even since his brother’s death, he’s been spinning the story. It wasn’t him who pulled the trigger, but the thug. His father, the only other person alive who knows, has retreated into himself. And the Capulets’ are more than ready to help their pastor keep his secret - assigning Albert’s death to a nameless criminal, and keeping the theft of Hugo’s store an uncomplicated,  and more importantly, anonymous tragedy. This way Hugo accumulates pathos and stays out of jail. But one day, his father drinking, a slip of the tongue from one of the higher ups - and all of Verona knows the pastor they’ve trusted is guilty of fratricide. It suddenly comes to light that Hugo is Cain, not Abel, and if Hugo can’t even be his brother’s keeper, how can he possibly hope to keep the faith of his congregation?

HACYLON AND ON AND ON:

Hugo admits to himself he has feelings for Roman, the Montague. But with every favor Hacylon asks of him, it cleaves him further and further from his fair-hearted love. If Halcyon is a woman written large, something centric, around which people can’t help but rotate around like she’s the North Star, then though what she asks feels immoral, she’s what must redeem Hugo. She’s what reminds him he belongs in the shadows, not lit by the sweet torch of Roman’s look. Hugo had stumbled what must be miracles, Roman and Halcyon independently,  and finds himself too impure in the aftermath. However, when Halcyon asks him to do something that will bring Hugo to the brink of a life already full of wickedness, will he stay his hand?

GO WITH GOD:

Hugo has become comfortable in his dual role as pastor and soldier. Days he can openly denounce what he does in secret at night. Sure, a few people know his secret, like his brothers in arms, and most of the upper forces of the Capulets, but he is working off his debt and soon he’ll be free to try a true repentance. All he’s doing now he can tip the scales back from again, with hard work and prayer for the rest of his life not spent in the Capulet’s debt. He is working off his brother’s labor, and what’s more biblical than that? Then one day the Capulets strongly urge Hugo to start writing into his sermons a Capulet bent, turning his services from neutral arguments for peace to a more propagandistic tint. If preaching and helping others is all that Hugo has left, then what will he offer to not sacrifice that respite?

Some other plot ideas include him getting addicted to Measure by Measure fighting, him overhearing some plot at To Tame a Soup, and Hugo maybe starting his own web of debts, starting with Lawrence.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Of course. If it makes sense.  

In Depth

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

If this weren’t a Capulet interview, if this weren’t the first of many an annual interview gauging his psychological state as a soldier, Hugo would have grinned, leaned in close, and joked ‘Measure by Measure.’ He’d only be half-joking of course, and the uncertainty of whether he was telling the truth or not would add the perfect amount of charming deviance to make his conversational partner - probably from his congregation - chuckle nervously and then louder. They’d hit his arm with the same coquettish flavor, and say something about youth pastors being too agreeable nowadays, and they remember when priests were people to be scared of. Not him. God turns the other cheek. And so do the guys getting knocked out in the ring. Haha, joking.

No, but this wasn’t a question from a parishioner, and was an official Capulet interview, so Hugo unfolded his hands with a nervous, you-got-me shrug. “To Tame A Soup. Well - maybe that comes as a surprise. I could’ve said the church.”

He could’ve said the restaurant. A few years ago he would’ve. He loved the wall the lights splattered onto the floor in little bushels of pale, creamy yellow like somewhere to fall asleep in. They’d let cats come in and sleep in the sun pockets, to the shock of some customers. Splattered like his mother onto the floor. He’d scrubbed out the blood, not his father, not the Capulets. He’d seen the white turn pink when the light hit in the morning.

“But what can I say? I love my church as well. I’m as predictable as I seem. I like helping people. Maybe To Tame A Soup was the wrong thing to say. I know it’s in Montague territory, but it’s a good place set up to help the good people of Verona in need. That’s something above territory. It’s esteemed.”

What does your typical day look like?

Hugo nods his head back and forth, like the day’s hypotheticals are rolling out in front of him so he can best read it off. “Well first I have to open the restaurant, which means counting the safe to figure out how much money is in the restaurant before first shifts, filling the register, making first deposit…prep work for breakfast and lunch, all the heavy-duty cleaning, setting up tables — Dad’s still the owner, of course, but after the robbery it’s just easier for me to open, as long as I’m home from school anyways.

“Unless it’s Sunday, which means I’m at church by six to prepare for a seven thirty service and I’ll be there the whole day.

“Otherwise the restaurant keeps me pretty busy… Inventory, cash control, food cost analysis, etc. And in the minutes I can squirrel away to myself, I’m still usually drafting sermons for the next week.” Hugo wonders if his interviewer can hear the envy drifting into his voice. His life sounds boring, normal. He finds himself salivating over what he’s invented for himself, wants to continue listing things that don’t involve blood, or debts, debts paid off by blood. None of what he’s saying is untrue, it’s just separate, distinct. Good, honest work. He takes a breath back to composure.

“I donate whatever time I can but —” Hugo bites his lip. “My day isn’t really my own. I’m mostly where I’m sent.” Nights he doesn’t sleep well. He paces. He cracks his knuckles in a distracted, painful way. Goes out and wanders the streets, watches people silhouette their windows. Catalogues the city into dangers.

“Which is a blessing in and of its own, I suppose. Routine is just another word for complacency. Or so I’ve been told. And in a grander sense, the day is a duty I’m happy to serve.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Oh religion and its capacities for accountability. Guilt. On a more realistic, fundamental level, maybe the mistake had been going away to seminary school. Straying his eye away from his brother. Letting one, two, three years go by with not a single word traded between them. The egotism, the pride of turning to God by turning his back on his family. If he wasn’t being punished, then…maybe it had been thinking any of them, even his family, could escape the conflict that had consumed even the best hidden corners of Verona like air. More literally, if he hadn’t fallen asleep that night, lulled into a demonstrably false sense of safety. He doesn’t blame Albert, victim of a system —

Hugo blinks out of it, shifting in his seat. He looks over his interviewer again. “Biggest mistake. Yes. Hm. I find myself failing on the pulpit. People are scared. And unforgiving. Without remorse, this city’s come to gorging on itself. I think I’ve slipped into preaching — I don’t mean to lecture you — but there’s no room for forgiveness when there’s no impetus to feel remorse for the enemy blood that’s been spilled. I’m not sure how to help Verona see itself as a city of brothers and sisters again. I feel —even worse, I see — the consequences of that failure every day.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Hugo catches himself, faltered and recovered in an instant. He should know better. The questions seem routine, and he knows he knows how to keep it together.

“I guess it would depend on what we define as something capable of asking. Who asked what of me? God? My brother? The gun, that had the trigger? My mother? Did she ask of me, in heaven? You of course know what happened. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, I’m just trying to understand the question.” Halcyon?

Keep it general. Keep it a parable. Lessons of moral inequality are never unexpected from him, and seem to put people at ease.

“Verona asks me to walk a difficult path every day. And Verona asks we go nowhere for help. The city has built itself so that no one leaves the same way they came in. I don’t know if that’s the most difficult thing asked of me - or of you - but it’s the most prominent.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

A soft smile. Hugo thinks about Halcyon, and from her lips sweet as antifreeze, new marching orders. “Of course any endorsement of war would be immoral. Blood waters tragedy. That’s not saying anything new.” It hits him that a smile might not have been appropriate.

“But I don’t think it’s traitorous to admit either. I’m loyal to the Capulets, that’s never been in question. Leaders who discourage complicated emotion towards violence in their name should employ animals, loyal only to violence, not men. The Capulets have given me the gift of loyalty by accepting me into their ranks ..no matter the reason.. and that alone cements my allegiance, even if I don’t always agree with…all this.”

“War, more than anything, is a set of volatile conditions.” Hugo focuses on his hands, moving them in a haphazard pattern, an airplane crash. “I’m realistic enough, neutral enough — and I guess some might mistake that for ambivalence, but — I’m realistic enough to question who of us will survive it, especially those of us small enough our stepping on will go unnoticed. Little ants in the atomic blast. I’m trying to say, the flock, especially, is who I’m worried about, not so much the lions laying down with them. Even me.” He smiles again.  

[theshippigconnoisseur]

Chapter 5: The Unblinding Truth

It had been an eventful week, All the restless love making from the has put this young mug into an endless routine. Not that he liked having sex with his kettle but just the fact that his heart beat fast for him was enough to know that his love for his him was strong. So every day the mug boy would work out in the fields, go to the marketplace, and work on maintenance inside and outside the house as usual. Outside the realms of his home he was his old Mugman self, hardworking and reliable all across the land, but when he gets home, safely behind closed doors, his mind focused on one thing, his grandfather. Every day he would give him a kiss in the morning and one in the evening. Like before it was all a routine.

It wasn’t weird per say to the open eye but it didn’t bother the two in the slightest. Suppose it was just a matter of time before they expose their love to the world.

On the other end, Elder Kettle was his normal self as he went along the other areas of the house to see how his inventions were operating. In Short he was basically trying to move his body after all the sexual encounters he had with his grandson. He didn’t mind taking a few extra poundings here and there but it was more so checking to see if his inventions weren’t soiled in bodily fluids or destroyed from their rough housing.

It was interesting that an elderly person much so like elder kettle would have the capabilities to create such fascinating gadgets. He wasn’t like other elderly people, Ooooh no, this Kettle’s true passion is creating new inventions for his grandsons, and maybe possibly for others as well. Spending most of his time tinkering, hammering, and fiddling with screws and wires.

In the deepest part of the house, the elder stood at his work desk fiddling with something in his messily gloved hand. “Hmmmmm that should do it.” Readjusting the object in his hand. It was early in the morning, probably around the time that Cuphead left for “work”. Sun had yet to seep through the hillside where no roosters cawed at its suspecting radiance. The mug boy was still asleep in his own chambers only for the time being. Reason for that is because they didn’t want to give away any suspicions for cuphead to notice. For now in this very moment the elderly kettle was at peace, it was a relaxing day to just sit and mind his own business and his inventions.

Pressing a button, a sudden “BZZZZZZZZZZZZ” sound came from the object. “Works good.” He stated as he began stretching his arms above his head. The sound began to continue and the elder pressed another button to make the object change to different vibration patterns. “Hmmmm Maybe I should adjust it by a sinch.” He retorted as he fiddled with the contraption. Soon after he was done, the elderly kettle pressed the bottom to turn it off and looked over at his somewhat messy form “I better get breakfast going.”

With that he got up and walked across the deep hallway to an open room. He sighed as he gazed upon an empty messy bed next to mugman’s. “Hehehe messy as always.” He chuckled. A sleeping form was slightly shuffling in the covers of it’s bed. The elder walked up to it and placed a warm welcoming hand on the blanket. “My boy, better wake up soon, I’ll be making breakfast by the time the rooster crows.” With that, he walked his way out the room and left to wash up.

An hour later..

Coming into the kitchen, the mug boy spotted his grandfather cooking some breakfast by the sunlit window. “Morning Grandpa” Walking up to his lover and embracing him from the back. “Had a good night’s rest Mugman?” Earning a kiss on the cheek, “I did.” The elder looked over his shoulder at his grandson, who is still holding onto his Grandfather’s torso. “Hehe Mugman, I’m cooking right now. I don’t want you getting burned from the stove.” Another kissed was placed on his neck. “But I love you sooo much.” He moaned. The elder playfully shoved him “Mugman.” The mug boy retreated “okokok hehehe.”

Breakfast was served and they both ate in silence. It was the typical pancakes and syrup from the pantry. It was really good to the young mugs perspective “Breakfast tastes great.” He grabbed another fork full of pancakes. “Your being too generous my boy, it ‘s a simple recipe.” He smiled as he too continued to eat his early morning meal. As they continued to eat the elderly kettle looked up at his well fed grandson “While you were sleeping, I was making something in my studies.” Mugman paused and looked up at him with some reminisce of pancake on his fork. His face covered in crumbs.

The kettle continued “I believe you might like it my boy.” While finishing up the last stacks of pancakes. Mugman couldn’t hesitate and hastily finished up his breakfast. When it comes to inventions it made him, and also his brother cuphead, eager with anticipation.

It was a usual reaction whenever their grandfather made something.

I wonder what grandfather whipped up this time, he ate excitedly. The elder saw his fast pace scorging, “slow down Mugman, I don’t want you to choke on your food.” He stated, cleaning up his plate in the sink. “Oh Shorry gramma.” Face full of food.

“Be sure to clean up your stuff when your done.” The elder stated and left into the living room. Mugman looked over at his meal, seeing that it was almost done. He used the remaining time to finish and clean up the kitchen table. This took about thirty or so minutes to complete, which was enough.

“Grandpa, I finished my-” he spotted his grandfather on the window side looking over the outside autumn leaves that flushed out the colors in the breeze. Mugman thought he looked radiant.

“Um, Grandpa?” The elder looked over him. “Sorry, I was just admiring the change in the leaves” looking back at the window. “It’s subtle, but very beautiful don’t you think?”

The enlightened mug sighed, “Grandpa..” he walked across the living room and sat next to him. “You know I love you right?” The elder nodded. “I want to hear from you…” he looked down in hesitation but continued. “What are your thoughts on our relationship?”

The elderly kettle stared back at him in awe. “Mugman.” He tenderly cupped his grandson’s cheek. “Have I not told you before? My love for you is unconditional.” The mug’s eyes softened at his elder’s touch, leaning into his palm like it was their last meeting.

“Grandpa” The mug boy was edging in closer to his kettle. “My heart beats for you.” Grasping his elder’s hand and placing it against his chest. “Always.” He smiled.

“And as do I my boy.” The slowly leaned in taking in each other’s scent. One of scented metal and porcelain that instills the perfect combination.

They shared a loving kiss. Mugman wrapping his strong arms around his lover, embracing every moment. And elder kettle reciprocated the same in return.

They both stayed for a long while. Sparks continued to fly in all sorts of directions. Well… most likely steam. As soon as they parted from their intimate moment the dazed mug stared lovingly down at his grandfather. “What’d ya say we change things up a bit in bed, grandpa.” He purrred. “Your still horny as always my b-“

A sound thumped to the floor…. both Mugman and elder kettle stopped in their tracks as they traced the noise back to the entryway of the kitchen. A grocery back from the marketplace filled with produce and other necessities lie format. But the owner of it all stood before them…. in petrified shock. There…. stood in the midst of it all, Cuphead.

His face contorted in a most horrific look that anyone could’ve mustered. Mugman was sharing the same look as the one person that hated this kind of relationship… stood at the opening of his demise.

“How… I…. Wha-“ the cup boy was frozen. His hands trembled. He couldn’t believe his glassy eyes, tears began forming in the corner. “Cuphead I can explain!?” Cuphead flinched, taking a step back. Why…. why did he have to come home to…. this….

Mugman stood trying to approach him like he was a scared wounded animal. “Please, j-just let me expla-.” “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!!!” The cupboy sudden anger began showing.

“Cuphead, Calm Down!!” The elder retorted. “NO! NO! NO! I REJECT THIS!!! I-I CAN’T!” The cautious mug was in front of his brother and lightly grasped his shoulder.

The scared cup jerked himself away and pushed his brother. “YOU’RE FUCKING SICK!!!! THATS OUR GRANDPA!!!”

“Cuphead I-“ the mug tried to explain but his brother beat him to it. “F-FUCK!!” Tears began falling from his eyes “No… I can’t take this! Not like this!” Mugman tried to interview but cuphead has rly bolted through the back Listen and out the door.

“CUPHEAD WAI-“ the elder grabbed his shoulder. “Wait Mugman, don’t this will upset him even more.”

“But I can just let him be! Who knows what he could do.” Hot stream of tears trailed down his eyes. “I don’t want to lose my brother.” The elder hugged his grandson. “I’m sorry my boy.” Joining his melancholy upbringing.

“I truly am….”

End (or is it?)

[iatethepomegranate]

(Belated) DickTiger Week Day 7: Picnic

This is so late I’m sorry. Happy birthday @iontorch

Masterlist (including AO3 links)

Title: We Should Do This Every Day

Rating: Explicit

Length: 4k

Summary: Dick and Tiger can't go very far for their honeymoon, but Dick has some ideas on how to make the most of it.

Notes: The park is VERY LOOSELY based on Colt State Park in Bristol, Rhode Island. I got some ideas on what to do from there and then went off and did my own thing.

The last scene is unabashed smut. I have also forgotten how to write smut.

We Should Do This Every Day

So maybe just hopping a few states over for a honeymoon wasn't what he'd had in mind, but Dick's siblings tended to get antsy when he was too far away for too long... as if he was about to fake his death again. Besides, he married Tiger because he liked the guy, not just because he loved him. If they couldn't enjoy each other's company anywhere, why get married at all?

Tiger was also hilarious during long drives... mainly because he became increasingly exasperated with Dick's attempts to entertain himself.

“I swear,” Tiger said from the passenger seat, “if you sing that damn song one more time...”

“Oh, come on. It's Batman's theme song.”

“You probably invented it,” Tiger grumbled, bumping the back of his head against the headrest.

“Not this one, no.” Dick shot him a grin before focusing back on the road. They'd been driving for a few hours and didn't have much longer left. Somehow, they hadn't killed each other, which boded well for their marriage. “We rescued a moderately famous band when I was Robin, so they wrote a song for us. It charted for a few weeks, actually. The local radio station still plays it sometimes.”

“I pity everyone who lives in Gotham City.”

“Just for the music?”

“Yes. Gotham City is a perfectly safe place otherwise.”

Dick snorted. “Can you believe I used to think you had no sense of humour?”

“My sense of humour is simply more refined than yours,” Tiger replied.

“That's just a fancy way of saying you don't find as many things funny.”

“Yes.”

Light was fading by the time they drove into town and reached the hotel. Dick and Tiger had alternated driving, so both were tired and strung-out and ready to sleep. It took a herculean effort to strip off their clothes before falling into bed. The mattress was hard, but that would just mean more leverage... when they weren't exhausted.

“At least we already knew we could get through a trip like that without killing each other,” Dick said, staring at the darkened ceiling. “Going on the run from Spyral is still paying off a year later.”

Tiger grunted into his pillow. Dick flopped across his back. They'd spent their wedding night in Gotham so they wouldn't keel over from exhaustion. Just as well, because they both fell asleep like this.

Of course, Tiger always rose early to pray, so Dick woke to find himself rolling gently across the bed, a whispered apology in his ear. It was Dick's own fault, really.

When Dick woke properly some time later, thin cracks of light lined the edges of the curtains and birdsong drifted in from outside the window. Tiger snored against his back, their legs tangled together under the warm covers.

Dick wanted to wake up like this for the rest of his life. Hell, if he had anything to say about it, he would... or as often as possible. Tiger still had his duties as Patron calling him away at times. This week, though? It was just for them.

Tiger shifted awake, rubbing his beard against Dick's bare shoulder. Dick rolled onto his back. Tiger settled against his chest, letting out a sigh as Dick stroked his hair.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dick said, his consonants still loose and lazy from sleep.

Tiger huffed. “Sunshine.”

“Shh. Let me call you things.”

“Hmph.” But he wasn't complaining.

Dick rubbed a hand over his face, yawning. “We should have breakfast.” They'd gone to bed early the previous night, and he was waking up faster than usual. That was nice. More time to spend hanging out with his BFF-slash-husband.

Tiger rolled out of bed, hunting for clothes. “Wash up. I will find you something to wear.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes. Fear me.”

Dick stripped off and stepped into the shower. Tiger had washed up earlier, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t join him. The alone time gave Dick a moment to think. He’d been in touch with the hotel beforehand and had gotten some advice for what to do in the area. They’d also agreed to help him source a few items to help things along. He’d spent a few minutes on the phone at a rest stop the previous day confirming that everything would be ready.

But first: a light breakfast.

Fortunately, the clothing Tiger had picked out for Dick was inoffensive. Probably less awful than what Dick would’ve chosen for himself. They’d mostly packed light, given the weather forecast, with a coat or two just in case. Dick tied his sweater around his neck like an asshole, mostly because Tiger hated it.

They had breakfast out on the patio, feet nudging together under the table. Tiger had taken his suggestion to eat lightly to heart, and he hadn’t questioned why.

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?” Dick asked him, spoonful of cereal forgotten in his half-raised hand. Tiger had that effect on him.

“I am,” Tiger admitted, reaching over to guide the spoon into Dick’s mouth. “Now eat, you child.”

Dick swallowed his mouthful. “Come on, man. You normally complain a lot more than this.”

“I am biding my time.” Tiger gave him a sharp, toothy smile. “You enjoy my complaints too much.”

“True. You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

Tiger’s cheeks coloured a little, and he seized on the sudden chattering of birds in flight above them to look somewhere else. Dick rested his cheek in his hand, watching him. He could stare at Tiger for hours and not get bored. For a spy, he was rather emotive once you knew what to look for, mostly in the eyes and eyebrows. A single raised eyebrow could tell stories that Dick needed hundreds of words to tell.

Tiger caught him staring. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” That all-too-familiar feeling of affection rose in Dick’s chest so quickly he had to let it out. “I just love you.”

Tiger’s eyes darted downwards for a moment, but then he reached out and slotted his fingers between Dick’s hand and his cheek. “I love you, too.”

They could’ve happily gone back to the hotel room and spent the whole day in there, but Dick had put a lot of planning into today and he was going to use it. The hotel had come through and sent what he requested to the nearby state park, where they’d pick it up from the ranger station. Dick wanted to keep Tiger in the dark until the last minute.

They borrowed a pair of bikes and set out. The roads were quiet today, and they were on a bike track in no time. There was just enough room to ride side-by-side, with good visibility in case someone needed to get past.

“Do you intend to tell me where we are going?” Tiger asked. There was something funny about seeing him on an ordinary bicycle after seeing him on motorcycles and tanks. It did great things for his thighs, though.

“Soon,” Dick promised. “I wanted to surprise you.”

The trail turned out back to the road soon enough, and they had to ride single file the rest of the way. They left the bikes chained up outside the park and walked inside, hands linked together. Tiger was observing the rolling green lawns around them with a little frown. Dick wanted to kiss the crease between his eyebrows.

They reached the ranger station and Dick finally grabbed the important piece of today’s outing: a picnic basket full of goodies from the local shops around town. Tiger watched him silently, a peculiar look on his face.

Dick opened the basket to check that everything was in order. “Everything okay, T?”

“I…” Tiger cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Dick grabbed his hand, leading him along the winding paths towards a spot the hotel staff had promised they would love. “Come on. What’s going on?”

Tiger kept his eyes on the greenery around them. “I do not know how to… no one has ever…”

“This your first picnic?”

“Yes.”

“Nervous?”

“I suppose.” The fact Tiger could admit something it spoke volumes of how far their relationship had come since those first days of trading barbs and trying not to kill each other out of frustration.

“You don’t have to be super cool and knowledgeable about everything, you know.” Dick looped his arm around Tiger’s, leaning against his shoulder as they walked. “It’s okay to feel out of your depth sometimes.”

“I always feel out of my depth with you.”

“That’s love, T.”

Tiger made a soft, possibly amused, possibly rueful, noise. “You know I am not used to people… doing things for me.”

“I’ll give you plenty of practice.”

His frown eased off the tiniest bit, which was the equivalent of a relieved sigh in Tiger-language. Dick nuzzled his shoulder and caught the corner of Tiger’s mouth lifting a little.

They finally reached the spot and Dick laid out the blanket. There was an open-air chapel nearby that was apparently popular for small weddings. It was just an archway and some white benches, but it still made Dick feel emotional as he laid out their spread for lunch. Dick and Tiger had married in Alfred’s rose garden. Bruce had enlisted the batkids’ help to build an archway and decorate it with the roses Alfred was willing to pluck from the garden. The park’s setup here was much simpler, but it still had Dick a little choked up.

Two men in suits were under the archway, with a small handful of people looking on. The men were wrapped up in each other, as if nobody around them existed. Dick knew that feeling well.

Tiger fed Dick a ribbon sandwich, capturing his attention once again. Eating from Tiger’s hands always went one of two ways: either the food tasted infinitely better, or he’d get so distracted that he no longer tasted the food at all. Tiger’s fingers caressing his cheek put him into that second camp.

They fed each other sandwiches, keeping an eye on the ceremony nearby. The men were crying, their foreheads pressed together.

“Do not start,” Tiger warned Dick. “Please.”

“As if you’re not getting a little misty-eyed over there,” Dick teased. They’d already finished the sandwiches without really tasting them. Then came bread and cheeses and grapes and figs.

The couple under the arch kissed. Dick leaned back against Tiger. He could almost smell the sweetness of those roses again. Their first kiss as a married couple had been tender. Tiger had cradled the back of his head like glass and dipped him like a princess. Dick didn’t mind feeling like a princess sometimes, especially when it came to the romantic stuff.

Tiger wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “They look happy.”

“Yeah.” Dick still felt teary; he’d always had an overabundance of empathy. Couple that with memories of one of the happiest days of his life, and he had no chance. “I’m happy, too.”

“As am I.” Tiger rested his cheek where he’d kissed. He wasn’t normally this affectionate in public.

“Would you kill me if I took a selfie right now?”

“No,” Tiger said warmly. Dick got the impression he wanted to remember this moment, too.

Dick wrestled out his phone and snapped a picture of them cuddled up like this against a backdrop of green grass and distant sea. The sky was bright blue and clear. It looked exactly how Dick felt. He texted a copy of the photo to Alfred and then put his phone away. Tiger held his attention far more easily than anything else in the world.

Dick rested the platter on his lap and fed Tiger grapes over his head. Tiger would sometimes grab one and shove it into Dick’s mouth instead. Lying here, being lazy and shoving food in each other’s faces was such a stark contrast to their usual panicked running-around-trying-to-save-the-world-from-burning-down lifestyle that Dick realised this had been the right decision. Anything more elaborate than this would’ve been exhausting. They needed to relax for once.

And maybe cry over other people’s weddings.

Soft music floated over from someone’s phone at the ceremony and the two men were slow-dancing in a circle. Tiger gave Dick a squeeze. They’d felt too awkward to dance in front of the handful of people that had been at their wedding, which had been Dick’s family plus Helena, but they’d swayed together in their room afterwards.

Dick rested his head against Tiger’s chest, closing his eyes. He could feel the rise and fall of his husband’s breaths. It was one of the most comforting things he’d ever experienced. Sometimes he just liked to lie on top of him with his ear pressed against Tiger’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart and the gentle rushing of air.

The wedding party was gone when he opened his eyes; he must’ve fallen asleep. Tiger’s lovely green eyes watched him with amusement as he sat up and stretched. Dick threw a grape at him.

They quietly packed up the remnants of the picnic, nibbling on leftover bits and pieces as they went. Tiger shook the blanket and folded it away. There was still plenty of time in the day, though, and Dick didn’t want to leave yet.

He rested the basket on one of the chapel benches and led Tiger to the arch. It was a pretty lattice design, pure white. The grass had been worn down to dirt beneath it, and there was something beautiful in that, in the fact so many people had stood there with the one they loved and said the words to tie their souls together. So many hearts poured out in this one spot.

“We are already married, Dick,” Tiger reminded him, but he was smiling a little.

Dick gently swung their joined hands side-to-side. “I want to live in that moment a while longer.”

“It is a good moment,” Tiger agreed, tugging Dick towards him. He slid an arm around Dick’s waist, keeping the other hand firmly clasped in his. “Our first dance was an afterthought. We should do another.”

Dick let Tiger lead their swaying. It was less awkward doing this in front of random people walking by than a small group of people he knew well. The birdsong was their music, their hearts the rhythm.

Tiger rested his forehead against Dick’s and they both closed their eyes. Tiger freed his hand from Dick’s and slid it into his hair. They kissed slowly. Dick could almost smell the roses again. Wherever they ended up in the future, he’d have to plant some.

Dick lost track of time. He laid his head on Tiger’s shoulder and their swaying turned to gentle rocking on the spot, their arms wrapped around each other.

“I love this,” Dick whispered. “We should do this every day.” He felt Tiger smile against the side of his face.

“We should.” Tiger didn’t bring up the fact he would likely be absent for weeks, if not months, at a time. They’d deal with that later. This week was for them. No worrying allowed.

It was almost dark by the time they returned to the hotel. Tiger headed upstairs to pray while Dick spoke to the hotel staff to thank them for their help organising the picnic.

Tiger was sitting cross-legged in the of the bed when Dick returned. His fingers reverently traced the edges of his Quran as he gently closed it.

“I enjoyed our picnic,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, babe.” Dick climbed onto the bed beside him. “Did you want to read for a bit longer?”

Tiger shook his head. “One moment.” He slid off the bed to put the book away, and then lay down in the middle of the bed. Dick couldn’t help but trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger. Tiger just smiled up at him. He smiled so freely with Dick these days. Dick loved that smile, so he kissed him.

Tiger slid his fingers down Dick’s neck and shoulders, coaxing him closer. Dick lay on top of him, and Tiger pressed his hands his back, fingers digging in. He pressed his thigh against Dick’s hip and Dick held him there.

They shed their clothes clumsily, unwilling to spend more than a few moments with their lips apart from each other.

“What do you want, babe?” Dick said, nipping Tiger’s ear.

Tiger snorted at the nickname, his legs wrapping around Dick’s waist. Dick got the message and reached for the lube he’d thrown on the nightstand at some point.

Tiger sighed when Dick slipped a finger inside him. “Finally.”

Dick kissed his stomach, grinning as his muscles shuddered. They were more than capable of going days without sex if necessary, but they didn’t like it… especially now. If they hadn’t been dead tired last night, they probably would’ve been up all night.

Dick pressed his tongue to the tip of Tiger’s cock. Tiger swore under his breath, grabbing fistfuls of bedcovers. So Dick licked him from base to tip, wrapping his lips around him and sliding back down. Tiger grabbed his hair, biting down on the pillow.

Dick pulled off, replacing his mouth with his free hand. “Sensitive tonight?”

“Do not stop. Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Dick busied his mouth with things other than talking. Tiger grabbed the headboard, groaning. He didn’t take long to come into Dick’s mouth. Then he silently beckoned Dick towards him. Dick straddled his torso and Tiger grabbed his cock, twisting his wrist just so, enough that Dick had to put his hands down on the bed before he lost his balance.

“Fuck me,” Tiger said, his voice already rough.

“Won’t you be too sensitive?”

“You are a clever man, Dick. Find a solution.”

Tiger got so bossy when he bottomed. Well, he was bossy during sex in general, but he took that to impressive heights at times like this. Dick didn’t waste any time, grabbing the condom from the nightstand.

He settled between Tiger’s legs and gently pressed inside. Tiger let out a long breath and relaxed around him. His cock twitched, but it wasn’t quite ready to get hard again. Dick was going to have a hard time keeping himself together for long enough, but he’d always relished a challenge. At least Tiger had a short refractory period compared to some other (non-metahuman) guys Dick had slept with in the past. He could usually be coaxed into getting hard again with a few minutes, at least the first time.

Until then, though, Dick had to be gentle. Every movement brought out a reaction in Tiger, such a stark difference from the man he’d thought Tiger was when they first met.

Tiger caressed Dick’s cheek. “You can go faster.”

“You’ll tell me if it hurts, right?”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dick. We have established this.”

“My blood really isn’t in my brain right now, T. Cut me some slack.”

Tiger chuckled, which reverberated through his whole body, including his ass. Both of them had to take a breath.

“That was interesting,” said Dick.

“Mm.” Tiger nudged Dick with his thigh. “That was not an invitation to stop.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tiger grumbled about that, but Dick’s slow thrusts didn’t let him stay coherent for long. He was getting hard again, so Dick moved faster. Tiger jerked himself, breaths coming in pants, until he threw his hand away, grabbing more blankets in his fist instead.

Dick brushed his hand across Tiger’s nipples and down his chest. He trailed his fingers across his hips, barely touching the hair around his cock. Tiger grabbed Dick’s ass, pushing him in deeper. Dick was not going to last much longer. He changed his angle, and Tiger moaned, arching off the bed.

“Dick. I need… ngh… more. Roll over.”

If there was anything hotter than Tiger splayed out beneath Dick, panting for his cock, it absolutely was Tiger on top, riding his cock until they both saw stars.

Dick’s back hit the mattress and Tiger sank down on top of him. He set a punishing pace that Dick absolutely needed right now, his cock rubbing against Dick’s stomach. Dick grabbed Tiger’s hips and thrusted upwards to meet him.

Tiger leaned down and kissed him, all tongue and teeth. They had to break apart every few seconds to breathe, but fuck it was hot. Dick dug his fingers into Tiger’s hips. Their rhythm stuttered, breaths tearing out of their throats. Tiger grabbed the headboard for leverage, eyes squeezed shut, face screwed up as he moaned.

“Fuck, Tiger. I’m gonna… ahh.” Dick couldn’t take it anymore. He came inside Tiger.

Tiger grabbed his cock and fucked into his hand, spilling over onto Dick’s stomach. He was beyond sound, breaths coming out in short puffs. Dick caressed his thighs until he collapsed on top of him.

They lay there for a while, listening to each other’s breathing. Tiger shoved his face into the pillow for a moment, until he could find the energy to slide off and curl up against Dick’s side. His eyes were already closed.

Dick cupped his chin. “Tired?”

“Mm-hm.”

He kissed the man’s forehead. “Good day, huh?”

“Mm.” Tiger opened his eyes. “Thank you for everything. And fuck you.”

“Wow, man. I just made you come twice and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Now I have to take you on a date just as good as this one,” Tiger replied.

Dick snorted. “Well, if it makes you feel better, we’re married now. You can do that whenever you want. Hell, bring me donuts on patrol and blow me in an alley to the dulcet tones of a police siren and I’ll call it even.”

Tiger barked out a laugh, shoving a hand over his mouth as if hadn’t realised how loud it was. “I will do it, Dick.”

“Looking forward to it.” It was nowhere near the weirdest sex thing either of them had done, together or with others. “So, you definitely liked it?”

“Dick. I loved it.” Tiger ran a light finger down Dick’s throat. Dick wouldn’t normally let anyone touch him there—did anyone?—but it was somehow sweet when Tiger did.

“Okay. Good.”

“You know I loved it.” Tiger cuddled closer, planting a kiss on Dick’s lips.

“Maybe I wanted to hear you say it again.” Dick tangled his legs with Tiger’s. “I love you lots.”

“I love you too.” Tiger touched his forehead to Dick’s and they both closed their eyes.

Dick was going to make sure they had more days like this. The look Tiger had given him when he learned they were having a picnic was hard to forget. He wanted Tiger to experience more amazing new things he’d never had the chance to try before. He was going to spoil him rotten, just like Tiger loved to spoil him.

They’d had to fight to get here at all. Dick was not about to take that for granted. Every day with Tiger was full of laughter and wonder and so much love Dick felt like he was going to burst from it sometimes.

Tiger relaxed into sleep and Dick watched him. His breaths were slow and calm, his beard lightly scratching Dick’s shoulder. Dick wanted more of this, too, and he knew he was going to get it.

They were married now. The thought still made Dick want to do somersaults, but right now he was content to grab the blankets and cosy up to his wonderful husband. He was going to kiss him senseless in the morning.

Whatever happened in the future, however much Tiger had to travel as Patron, they would always have this. They would always come back together.

They would always be Tiger and Dick: partners, lovers…

Husbands.

[thewritenerd]

Victor and Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 22 & 23

‘You don’t know if you like her?’ Maram suggested. Adam nodded. ‘I’m still new to a lot of things. And there are a lot of things I’m still figuring out.’ Marram looked thoughtful. ‘We need to get to class now. But we’ll talk more at break.’ With that she and Oscar said goodbye to Adam and went off down the hall as Adam made his way up the stairs. ‘Hey Adam.’ Shreya said as she came over to him. ‘So who was that you were talking to?’ ‘Oh just some kids from science.’ Shreya nodded. They didn’t say anything as they made their way to the computer rooms. Adam wanted to say something to her but what? Should he ask about the book? Or would she be upset he hadn’t figured out what it had meant? Shreya stopped just outside her classroom and turned to face Adam. ‘Uh Adam, I was wondering. Do you any chance want to do something together this weekend? There’s going to be a funfair just outside of town. Or if the weathers bad we could just get a drink?’ she cocked her head to one side and looked up at him with a small smile on her face. The thought of spending a day with Shreya did sound nice. But the thought of going into town made him want to be sick. He shook his head. ‘Sorry I don’t really feel like doing that sort of thing. You’ll have to ask someone else.’ Shreya’s smile fell. ‘Oh well never mind.’ She said as she slipped into her class without another word. Unsure what had just happened Adam made his way to his class two doors down. Once inside he spotted Chelsea in their usual spot and took a seat next to it. 

‘So how was Chem?’ Chelsea asked. ‘Fine.’ He said. Chelsea frowned at him. ‘Something happened didn’t it?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’ ‘Adam.’ He sighed and explained what had happened in the hallway and what Maram and Oscar had told him. When he was done Chelsea just sat staring at him. Then slowly it began to shake its head at him. ‘You are an idiot.’ Adam frowned. ‘I’m not…’ ‘A girl asks you on a date and your response is ask someone else?’ It was Adam’s turn to shake his head. ‘She didn’t ask me if she wanted to go on a date, just…’ ‘Just go out together just the two of you with no one else?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘While openly flirting as she did so?’ He shrugged, truthfully he hadn’t been entirely sure what she’d been doing had been flirting. Though thinking back maybe it should have been more obvious to him. ‘Well should you really go out with someone if you don’t know if you like them?’ Chelsea looked thoughtful. ‘Well not if you know you don’t. But if you’re not sure sometimes it’s good to give it a go. If it turns out you were wrong you break up. Maybe someone cries about it. Then you both move on. But if you don’t give it a go then you’ll never know.’ ‘I don’t want to make anyone cry.’ ‘No one does. But it may be too late to worry about that.’ Adam looked down at his hands. His mind was running in circles. He probably did like Shreya. But he was scared. And how could they be a couple if he couldn’t even go anywhere without being yelled at in the street. ‘Just think about it okay.’ Chelsea said turning to its computer screen.

***

It was Victor who picked Adam up from school at lunch. He explained he’d had a meeting and as he had the car he and Igor had figured it would be easier if he picked Adam up. Adam didn’t say anything in response instead he just sat staring out of the window. ‘I brought you some lunch. Seeing as you didn’t have any breakfast. Adam looked at the paper bag and pulled it open. A strong greasy scent emitted from the bag. It shouldn’t have been appetising but it made Adam’s stomach growl. ‘You’d better eat it now. If Igor finds out I’ve given you junk food we’ll both be in trouble.’ He glanced over to Adam. ‘Thanks.’ He said as he reached in and opened one of the cardboard boxes. It wasn’t until he’d started eating that he realised just how hungry he had been. By the time Victor parked the car he had eaten everything but the chicken bones. ‘Thought you’d be hungry.’ Adam nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks again.’ Victor began to climb out. ‘Go and throw all that away. In the outside bin. Then you can just go and do whatever you like.’ Adam stepped out of the car and made his way over to the bins which sat just behind where the car was parked. Making his way inside he wondered what to do now. He supposed he should use his free time working on his invention. He’d lost two days of work already and he’d promised Dr Ramaker he’d have it done in a month.

 Victor

Justine arrived on Wednesday not long after Igor had left to pick Adam up from school. Victor had seen the taxicab drive up and had come out to great her. She quickly made her way over and threw her arms around him. ‘How are you?’ he asked once she’d released him from her grip. ‘Better now I know I’ll have some time away from all… that.’ Victor nodded. ‘Well Igor’s not here but I can help you with your bags and show you your room.’ He picked up his sister’s old high school gym bag and a plastic carrier bag filled with her various soaps and perfumes. Justine took out her suitcase and swung her backpack onto her back. She called her thanks to the taxi driver, who gave her a thumbs up before driving off, before turning to follow Victor inside. He lead her up the stairs and along the hallway. ‘My room is just around the corner.’ He said as he pushed the door to her new room open. And at the end of that hallway you’ll find the stairs leading to Igor’s quarters. If you ever need either of us.’ Justine nodded and set her bags down on the bed. ‘We usually eat dinner at six.’ Victor continued. ‘Igor insists we all eat together unless I’m on a deadline for work. Speaking of which I’m sure this goes without saying but while I’m in my office I expect everyone to be quiet while moving around the ground floor.’ Justine nodded smiling a bit. ‘You really haven’t changed.’ She teased. Victor shook his head. ‘Well I’ll leave you to unpack.’ With that he left. It wasn’t long before he heard Adam and Igor coming through the front door. Making his way to the front door he nearly got knocked over by Adam who was rushing past. ‘Sorry.’ Adam called as he ran off. ‘Don’t run in… And he’s gone.’ Victor turned to face Igor. ‘What was all that about?’ ‘He asked if he could go to the ruins. I said he could as long as he was back in time to washup for dinner.’ ‘Right. Doesn’t explain why he’s in such a hurry but never mind. Anyway speaking of dinner Justine’s here and I’d like you to make Coq Au Vin. It’s her favourite you see.’ Igor nodded. ‘Of course sir.’ With that he left to begin preparing the meal.

***

Come dinner time Victor found himself being the last to arrive. Adam was already sat at his usual seat at one end of the table and Justine had been seated somewhere in the middle. ‘Sorry I’m late. Had to make a phone call.’ Victor explained as he took his seat at the other end of the table. Justine reassured him it was fine, Adam simply shrugged. Igor served the food and poured the wine for Victor before turning to Justine. ‘Any wine for the lady?’ he asked. Justine blinked. ‘Uh. Yeah sure go on.’ Igor poured her drink before leaving to put the bottle away. Justine sniffed at the red liquid before taking a sip. ‘Hmm.’ She said nodding to herself. ‘Not bad. So what’s the occasion?’ she asked Victor. ‘Nothing.’ He replied as he picked up his fork. ‘I always have a glass at dinner sometimes a little more on a weekend. I’m not a big drinker but I find it adds something to the meal.’ Justine nodded before turning to Adam. ‘What about you? You ever drink?’ ‘Adam is underage.’ Victor said a little more snappily than he would have liked. Quickly he composed himself before continuing. ‘I doubt Igor would approve of me giving a minor alcohol.’ Justine gave him a look that said, I’m not falling for it. He hated that look mainly because whatever conclusion she had come to usually turned out to be undeniably correct. Even when Victor didn’t know it himself. The majority of the dinner conversation was taken up by Adam and Justine who had asked him to call her Auntie Justine. Adam had seemed delighted at this. Once they’d finished eating and waited for dessert, fruit salad with a dollop of cream, Justine asked Adam if he’d ever seen any ghosts. ‘Ghosts?’ Adam asked looking from Justine to Victor. ‘Yeah ghosts old building like this must have some. I saw a ghost once.’ Victor let out a long sigh. ‘For the last time that wasn’t a ghost. That was Elizabeth getting a glass of water. You and your friend scared yourselves over nothing.’ ‘That’s what you think. But how do you explain it happening just after we’d summoned a ghost.’ ‘Coincidence. You used that Ouija board at the same time Elizabeth always goes downstairs for a drink.’ Justine shook her head. ‘I’m telling you it wasn’t Liz.’ ‘I’m sorry but could someone please tell me what a ghost is?’ Adam asked. Jusine turned to look at him. ‘You’ve never heard of ghosts. A ghost is the spirit of a dead person who hasn’t moved on to the otherside. Some are pretty peaceful just wandering around the place they died. But some are really aggressive. Attacking anyone who comes near. Or even just specific people. But what these ghosts really want is to reap their revenge on the one or ones who wronged them. And until then they’ll never know peace.’ ‘Justine that’s enough!’ Victor said slamming his fist down. He turned to Adam who had started to shake. ‘It’s all nonsense ignorant people thought up when they scared themselves over thinking every little shadow. There are no such thing as ghosts. Justine’s just trying to scare you.’ ‘Well it worked.’ Adam said sounding close to tears. ‘Oh sweetie I didn’t mean to freak you out so much. I was only messing around.’ Adam nodded but wouldn’t look at her. He ate his dessert quicker than usual before standing up and rushing out without a word. ‘What the hell was that about?’ Victor hissed at Justine the moment he was gone. ‘Telling him all that nonsense. Especially after…’ ‘I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking about that.’ ‘I don’t think you were thinking at all.’ Victor scolded. He knew he should probably drop the subject but he couldn’t stop thinking about how scared Adam had seemed. ‘The boy has enough trouble sleeping. I don’t need you to make things worse.’ Justine simply nodded and finished her fruit in silence.  Once he’d finished Victor decided to make his way up to Adam’s room to see if he was okay. He found him sitting at his desk working on another invention. This one looked like it was quite far along and Victor was surprised Adam hadn’t mentioned it. ‘What’s that?’ he asked. Adam jumped snapping the small strip of metal he’d been holding in two. ‘Shit.’ Adam hissed before turning round. ‘Uh it’s nothing.’ Victor raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you cursing. Anyway you don’t usually refer to your inventions as nothing.’ Adam shrugged. ‘It’s not an invention perse. I’m just experimenting with different mechanisms.’ Victor nodded. ‘So what have you found out?’ Adam shrugged looking at the ground. ‘Well there’s no point doing experiments if you can’t even remember what you learnt from them. You need to write this stuff down. I could get you some notebooks, that one you’ve got is probably getting pretty full by now and it’s best to keep your notes separate. Would you like that?’ Adam simply nodded but didn’t say anything. Victor sighed. ‘Justine didn’t mean to scare you so much. Though I suspect she wanted to scare you a little. I’ve had a word with her about pulling something like that.’ ‘Did you tell her about, about me going to therapy?’ Adam asked. Victor shook his head. ‘It didn’t seem relevant.’ ‘Good. Because I don’t want people knowing. They already think I’m… I don’t want to give them anymore reason to treat me like…’ ‘Justine wouldn’t do that. But if you want to keep it quiet then that’s what we’ll do.’ He turned to leave before stopping. ‘Oh and I got a call from your school. Something about destroying one of the science rooms?’ ‘It was one bench. And it wasn’t deliberate. An experiment went wrong.’ Victor chuckled a bit at the indignation in the boys voice. ‘Yeah I figured as much. Don’t worry I’ve dealt with it.’ He left and headed back downstairs.

Adam

Adam woke up with a start after another nightmare. This was a new one. He’d dreamt he’d looked out of his bedroom window and seen that little girl looking up at him. He’d taken a step back away from the window and heard a horrifying crunch from underneath him. Looking down he’d see William lying on the floor with his skull completely crushed under Adam’s foot. The dream had been so vivid even now he was fully awake Adam could swear he could feel the brains between his toes. He started pacing up and down his room clawing at his wrists as he did so. He should really take his meds, but had it been six hours since the last dose? And if he took them now he’d only be able to take them one more time over the next 24 hours. And with another Chemistry lesson and English and a therapist appointment all he would probably need two doses over the course of the day tomorrow. Deciding he needed to save his pills and too worked up to try and sleep he sat down at his computer. He found two new follow requests on Instagram from Maram and Oliver which he accepted straight away. He found links to another couple of sites on Oliver’s account so he clicked on them and followed them. One turned out to be a youtube channel and to Adam’s surprise he found he’d posted a few videos. They seemed to be mostly educational with titles like; Dating a Hijabi Muslim (ft. My Girlfriend), How to Use an Epi Pen and Trans Male vs Trans Masc What’s The Difference. There were also a couple of gaming videos. Adam decided to give one of those a watch as he didn’t feel like anything too heavy. He found a video of Oscar playing a dating sim. This sim was about a man who had moved house with his daughter to a street where most of the people living there were also single dads. He remembered Nate had played it himself and kept going on at Adam and Chelsea to play it. ‘I thought you were aromantic?’ Chelsea had joked. ‘Yeah so? That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good love story.’ Adam still had no desire to play the game himself, but he was curious as to what it was like. He clicked play on the video and sat back to watch. It was clearly an older video, Oliver had no braces and notably less piercings than Adam was used to seeing him with. His hair was also orange and pink rather than the various shades of blue it had been the other day. Though Adam noted the haircut was the same. He’d only meant to watch a couple of episodes to get his head to calm down but before he’d known it the sun was coming up and he was still awake. Well at least I got some sleep. He thought as he got up. There was no point even trying to go to bed now but it would be a while until Igor made breakfast. Deciding to take another trip to the ruins Adam quickly got dressed. And made his way downstairs, taking care to tiptoe when passing Justine’s door. Once outside he started to make his way to the trapdoor. He wasn’t going to go down it, not again. He’d been down there the night before to see if he could find a couple of things to use in his invention in Victor’s lab. Technically it was stealing, but they were such small items he doubted Victor would miss them. No he wouldn’t risk going down there so soon after he’d just done so but he did want to see that trapdoor again. As he approached though he suddenly saw something, or should that be someone darting across the ruins. Now there was no doubt in his mind he had been seeing someone. This person was as solid and as real as the stones around them. Adam couldn’t see their face as they had their back to him and they wore a dark blue hoody, the hood up concealing their hair. But he could tell they were not a skinny individual. Though anyone who would assume this figure would be slow because of this they would have soon changed their mind upon seeing them run. Adam charged after them but couldn’t quite catch up. The chase ended when he tripped over a small pile of stone and the stranger disappeared into the woods. ‘Shit.’ Adam hissed as he tried to sit up. ‘Ahh! Shit shit shit.’ He said a little louder at the pain that went up his left arm as he put weight on it. Trying his best not to lean on it he struggled to his feet using his right arm to push himself up and made his way in doors.

[devilishlyvintage]

The Text-to-Speech Man (A Big Hero 6: The Series Fanfic)

Name: The Text-to-Speech Man

Fandom: Big Hero 6

Words: 4,209 (okay that’s a lot, like ten pages xD)

Summary: Nobody knows who the Text-to-Speech Man really is, only he knows that.

Note: we call bangs fringes in the UK. Just thought i’d clear that up to avoid any confusion.

OC VOICE CLAIMS (I tried to include well-known voice actors/actresses amongst the cartoon community, though included some other famous faces as well):

Daniel Henney as Sunny Elemente

Nolan North as Sunny’s Text-to-Speech watch

Dolly Parton as Aspen Murdock

Greg Cipes as Zach Evans

Jonah Hill as Ted Baxter

Ashly Burch as Natalie Worth

and finally Tara Strong as Danika Kurosawa

It was pressing on into morning, the clouds and sun mixing together to create dusk, the colours of the sky a concoction of reds, oranges, yellows and light pinks.

“Hello, my name is-”

No, that’s not right, thought the man, turning the screwdriver once more. Come on, you’ve got this. You can do this.

“Hello, my name is Sunny-”

Come on, work you stupid thing! God damn it, cursed the man, programming was one of your top subjects, this shouldn’t be so hard!

“Hello, my name is Sunny Elemente.”

The young adult came to a standstill when he heard those words, the words he had been wanting hear for the past four hours. He pressed the tiny button on the silver metal, erasing the current sentence displayed on the holographic screen and typing something else in its place using the keypad.

“I understand that me not talking has caused some concern, but you do not have to worry about that anymore. With this little watch, I can speak to all of you whenever I want. Pretty great, right?”

Unfortunately, the computer didn’t recognise abbreviated language (much to the dismay of its inventor) but, it was better than no result at all. Sunny Elemente relaxed into his spinning chair with a sigh of accomplishment, lighting a cigarette to celebrate his victory.

You did it, man. You did it.

The clock struck 4 AM, a time were people were usually asleep. But no, not Sunny. As much as he wanted to, he was unable to sleep. He thought that things were bad during the day, though at night…

At night, it was a living hell. The flashback, the memories, the screaming echoing in his ears…it was far from soothing. Leaning his head back, Sunny blew smoke out from his mouth and placed the cigarette between his lips, watching the paper burn.

“Sunny?” his friend questioned him as she stopped in the doorway, causing him to quickly sit upright and put his prize out in the ashtray on his work bench. “Is that you?”

Sunny nodded out of habit, though his shielded eyes glanced at the watch on his wrist. He didn’t hesitate in putting it to use, inserting a response so that he could talk with his housemate.

“Yes. It is me. Hello Danika.”

Danika was startled at first; she hadn’t expected to hear a robotic male voice address her so casually. She raised a brow, now more confused than anything.

“How are you doing that?” she asked, walking over to him. Sunny tapped the glass of his modified watch, and then motioned to her to look up. Danika did so, in awe at what her friend had been able to do with just a few simple tools and components.

“Awesome, right? Now I can talk to you and the others without even having to move my lips.”

“Yeah…” Danika said with a nod, a smile spreading across her lips. “Yeah! Sunny, this is fantastic. I can’t believe you were able to make something like this in such a small space of time…except, that’s wrong, isn’t it? You’ve been up for hours, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I have been working on this bad boy for four hours straight; have not gotten a wink of sleep. Now before you say anything, yes, I know I need to rest but…I cannot. Things have not been easy for me recently.”

Danika’s happy expression soon turned to a frown when she heard that. The fourteen year old grabbed a chair and sat opposite her care giver, her dainty hands meeting his padded shoulders.

“You’ve been acting strange for weeks now.” she said, becoming serious. “This isn’t good, not at all. You haven’t been eating or sleeping properly for a while now, it’s…it’s scaring me. You’re scaring me, Sunny.”

Sunny could see the pain glisten in her chocolate eyes; it hurt him to see her like that. It hurt him more than text-to-speech could ever describe. His gloved hands made their way to her face, cupping her cheeks. Their foreheads lightly touched, thumbs brushing away heartfelt tears.

“Do not cry, Danika. Please.”

Danika’s breath hitched, she couldn’t help how she felt. She was worried for someone she cared deeply about, a friend who she would do anything for. Smaller hands rested over larger ones, though not even that could stop the emotions that were falling.

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologised, if anyone should have been crying it was Sunny, he was the one who was suffering. “I-it’s just that…y-you’re my f-f-friend and I…I care a-about y-you. It hurts, you know…I wanna h-help but I…I d-don’t know h-how.”

Sunny said nothing, instead bringing her into a hug. His chin sat on the top of her head, the tears wanted to come out but they simply couldn’t do so.

“You being here is enough. Thank you, for wanting to help me, but there are some problems that you cannot fix. I know that might be hard for you to hear, though it is true. What I am going through is something that I have to help myself recover from, though with you and the others by my side…I feel like I can do anything.”

Lifting his scarf down from the bottom half of his face he kissed Danika’s forehead before pulling it back up, looking at her through his sunglasses.

“You should head back to bed; we have a pretty big day ahead of us.”

“Oh yeah,” Danika remembered, she had completely forgotten until now. “We have the presentation at that college tomorrow, the mutant awareness one, right?”

“Right.” Sunny replied, moving away from her. “See you at breakfast, Danika.”

Danika kissed Sunny’s cheek, humming with content. “See you at breakfast, Sunny.”

Sunny saw the teenager leave from the corner of his eye, a regretful breath passing him as he gently shook his head.

Why…why am I such a coward?

-Mutant Awareness Presentation Day-

“So what’s this presentation Professor Granville wants us all to go to?”  wondered Hiro, holding the straps of his back pack as he walked alongside his friends.

“Beats me.” GoGo shrugged her shoulders. “But, people have been getting pretty hyped about it. Whatever it is, it’s gotta be good if everyone is making such a big fuss.”

“You guys haven’t heard?” Honey Lemon asked, saying a quick ‘hello’ to a passerby she knew. “Apparently people with 'special talents’ are gonna be there, how true that is, i’m not sure. If I had to guess, they’re probably just some really, really smart scientists.”

“I agree with Honey Lemon,” said Wasabi, 'special talents’, his ass. “All their gonna do is show off some top of the range invention and try and convince the audience that it’s gonna 'change their lives’. To be honest, I think i’m just gonna skip it and get breakfast instead, I haven’t eaten anything all morning and i’ve got a really bad headache coming on.”

The muscular rule follower rubbed the side of his forehead, trying to settle the twinges of pain that would make his eyes twitch every few seconds. Hiro could see that Wasabi wasn’t having the best start to the day and stopped, taking his bag off of his shoulders and rummaging through it, handing the darker skinned male a container and plastic fork.

“Here, you need this more than me.”

Wasabi declined; he couldn’t take Hiro’s breakfast.

“I appreciate it the gesture and all, Hiro, but this is your breakfast. I don’t think your aunt would be too happy.”

“Wasabi, I insist.” Hiro said, a small smile on his face. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick. I can get something when we get to SFIT. Please, take it.”

Wasabi glanced at the container of food, a warm expression settling onto his features.

Just like Tadashi.

“Thanks, Hiro.” he thanked, putting the plastic case in his satchel. “Don’t expect me not to buy you lunch for this. Next time, i’m treating you to breakfast”

Wasabi ruffled Hiro’s hair in a friendly manner, earning a toothy grin from the adolescent.

When the nerd gang arrived to SFIT, the presentation was under last minute preparations. The stage was decorated with a large banner saying 'Mutant Awareness 2k32’ and students were setting up the speakers and projectors.

This must be important, thought Hiro. Really important.

“Are you guys hyped or what!?” exclaimed Fred, startling everyone when he arrived. “Sorry i’m late; I was at a comic signing. I met three awesome dudes while I was there; turns out we’re in most of the same fandoms! We exchanged our PS4 ID’s too, so we can play online any time!”

“That’s great, Freddie.” Honey Lemon beamed, happy her friend had met some new people. “I’m glad you made some new friends!”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome, Fred.” Hiro said. While not a huge comic book fan, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed a light read once in a while. He had been reading some of Tadashi’s old comics from when he was around his age, and good lord did they make him cringe. His older brother definitely had some weird tastes as a fourteen year old. “If they’re at the presentation, maybe you could introduce us to them.”

“You got it, dude.” Fred smiled; he couldn’t wait to keep in contact with his new buddies and beat their butts on multiplayer. It was going to be sweet!

“I don’t know about this you guys,” said Sunny and Danika’s friend, Aspen, with uncertainty. “What if they don’t like it?”

Aspen was nervous about having to talk in front of a huge crowd of people, though Sunny simply took her hands and offered her reassurance.

“It will be okay. Do not worry so much. If anyone wants to poke fun at you, I will kick their asses.”

Aspen chuckled when she heard that, she had become used to her friend’s choice of words that she no longer called him out on his swearing.

Typical Sunny.

“Thanks, hon.” she replied, going to take a look around. She and her friends had a few minutes to go before the presentation began, so she figured she would use the time she had to get a better look of the venue.

“I can’t believe we’re presenting this at my dream school.” Danika looked at SFIT from the distance; she wished she could have applied to study at the college, but the fees were simply too high. Someday, she hoped. Someday.

“You’ll get there, Dani.” her best friend, Natalie, linked her arm. “With your know-how and charm, you’ll be the best for sure. Come on, let’s go with Ted and Zach, they said they wanted to meet that Fred guy the three of us met at the comic store.

Danika smiled sadly, no matter how hard she hoped, no matter how hard she wished, she knew that deep down her dreams were never going to come true. Though she always applied herself to any situation when it came to robotics, having to present an invention of her own at a showcase seemed too daunting, and she had no doubt in her mind that she would freak out and mess up.

"Look who it is,” grinned Ted, gaining Fred’s attention. “Our buddy from the comic store. Didn’t think we’d see you here, man.”

“Dudes!” Fred greeted the two, fist bumping. “Guys, these are my buds Ted and Zach.”

“Hi!” waved Honey Lemon.

“Nice to meet you.” said Wasabi.

“Great, more nerds.” GoGo rolled her eyes, folding her arms. One Fred was bad enough already, she didn’t need to get to know two more.

“And what’s wrong with being a nerd, hm?” Ted put his hands on his hips, raising a brow. Compared to Honey Lemon who was rather tall for a woman, he was huge! “Are you..nerdist?”

Zach gasped dramatically, it all made sense now! “You’re a nerdist!”

“Nerdist!” Fred defended his pals. “Nerdists aren’t cool, dudette!”

“Nerdist!” Natalie joined in, turning away from GoGo with a 'hmph’. “Come on, guys, let’s go talk somewhere else. We shouldn’t have to be around someone who’s a nerdist.”

“I’m not a nerdist!” protested GoGo, she was puzzled as to what was even happening right now. “What even is that!?”

“Now that…” Hiro paused before speaking again. “Was the most confusing thing i’ve ever seen. I guess Fred was right when he said being part of a fanbase is like being a member of a family. Who knew?”

“They’ll cool off in a couple hours; they don’t stay mad for long.” Danika reassured the gang. “Hi, nice to meet you, i’m Danika. Danika Kurosawa. I’ll be one of the presenters for the Mutant Awareness presentation.”

“Mutant…Awareness?” Hiro asked, he could have sworn he’d heard her right. “What’s a…mutant?”

“Yeah, I don’t think i’ve ever heard of them before.” Honey Lemon added. “I mean, i’ve watched movies about heroes with special talents and…no…no way!”

“Yes way.” Danika grinned, if she could she would have given a demonstration, but she had to save it for the show. “I know it may seem hard to believe, but if you watch the presentation later you’ll see it all for yourself. I’m sorry, I know we’ve just met but i’ll have to get going, the presentation starts in ten. It was nice meeting all of you!”

Danika dashed like a bolt of lightning, fast on her feet. Honey Lemon squealed a little in excitement.

“She seems so nice!” she spoke giddily. “And those jeans, I need to find out where she got them!”

Hiro was thinking about Danika’s surname, it somehow seemed familiar to him.

Danika Kurosawa…hmm…have I heard that name before?

***

“I am aware that a lot of you have been looking forward to this and I apologise for the lack of information that was given, I will be sure to fix that error for future events.” Professor Granville spoke into a microphone, clearing her throat as she stood on the stage. “Without any further ado, I would like to introduce you to Mr Sunny Elemente and his friends.”

Granville put the microphone back onto its stand and stepped aside, applauding along with the audience. Sunny appeared from behind the curtain, as did his mutant companions.

“Thank you, Professor Granville.” he said via his watch. “As you already heard, my name is Sunny Elemente and these are my friends. I would like you to meet Aspen Murdock, Zach Evans, Ted Baxter, Danika Kurosawa and Natalie Worth. We are here today so that we can spread awareness about the mutant community and hopefully help give you a better insight about who we are. For your safety, I would advise that all of you each take a step back, because things are about to get hot.”

Cupping both of his palms, Sunny presented a big ball of fire to the audience. It appeared out of thin air and hovered over his skin, which immediately got the attention of those attending the presentation.

“Are you really doing that?” a member of the crowd asked, with Sunny nodding.

“Yes. What am I doing is real, it is not magic of any kind. Unless, you consider mutants to be magical, that is up to you.”

“Amazing…” Hiro trailed off, in complete amazement.

“Tell me about it.” Fred agreed, he’d never been this interested in a public show before.

“That is not all I can do.” Sunny said, making the fire ball disappear. “Watch closely.”

With a click of his fingers he was able to light up candles that had been put on a table for the demonstration. The crowds were close to going wild, but they kept their cool out of respect and a want to see more.

“That’s cool n’ all, but I got a few tricks up my sleeve as well.” Danika smirked, a hand on her hip. “What do you all think of this?”

Granville was not a woman who smiled often, (let alone at all, really) though on this particular occasion she allowed a small one to settle on her lips. She could tell that Danika was a talented individual, a girl who had hopes and dreams just like everyone else.

A young woman who is wise beyond her years. Very good.

The audience went ape like fans at a concert, watching Danika zip and zoom through the air with purple shocks of electricity following her every move and occasionally firing the odd bolt or two. Landing back on the stage gracefully, she gave a bow and blew a kiss to those standing in the audience.

The presentation lasted for a good hour and a half with Natalie, Ted, Zach and Aspen demonstrating their powers. Metal, plant, light and air manipulation were what they individually possessed, and it was amazing to watch. Light made everything seem that extra bit brighter, and with a cool breeze the warm weather was becoming more bearable by the second. The wind blew in Honey Lemon’s hair, catching Ted’s attention. He began blushing, though was able to hide it well from the crowd.

Except from Zach.

“Ooo, someone’s in love.” he teased with a whisper, laughing when Ted playfully punched his arm.

“I am not.” he answered. “Come on; let’s just go answer some questions. Sunny’s getting kinda bombarded, we should go help him out.”

After things had died down and people were going to get their lunch, Sunny and the other mutants had been given the opportunity to have a private tour of SFIT. Professor Granville was being polite to the guests, showing them the different facilities that were offered.

“And this is the lab that belonged to one of our popular students. He unfortunately passed away in a horrific fire, though his legacy lives on in the hearts of his peers.” Granville explained, noticing that Sunny had stopped dead in front of Tadashi’s lab. “Mr Elemente? Is everything all right?”

Sunny could feel the tears coming and this time, he would be unable to stop them. He hated making scenes like this in public, but he couldn’t help it. His breath caught in his throat and his legs felt like jello.

“May I? Please?” he asked the professor, seeing her hold her clipboard to her chest. “Tadashi was an old friend of mine…I…I used to be a student here a long time ago before I dropped out. Other priorities, you see.”

“I was not aware that you were a former student, Mr Elemente.” Granville said. Despite the way Sunny got his words across, she could sense that he had a great deal of pain going on inside. “All right, I will give you a few minutes. But please, try not to break anything. I would like everything to stay exactly how it is, for Mr Hamada’s sake.”

“Of course.”

Sunny walked into the lab, closing the door behind him. Danika was about to go in after him, but Granville stopped her.

“He needs a moment alone, Miss Kurosawa. To remember his friend.” she told her, proceeding on with the tour. “Over here is where our students are working on the next best selling equipment, an upgrade for current virtual reality systems.”

“Wow…” the mutants looked on in unison.

Sunny stood in the centre of the room, enjoying the blissful silence. Unable to hold back any longer, the eighteen year old fell to his knees and cried, burying his face into his hands as he did. He wanted to fight it, he wanted to fight the sadness, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Why…why, why, why!?” he kept asking himself over and over, the burning sensation in his eyes should have caused him distress, though it was nothing of the sort. “Why did this…why did this happen!? Things shouldn’t have been like this…they shouldn’t have!”

Sunny cried and cried, tears sizzling and evaporating into the floor due to their heat. He wanted to stand up and rejoin his friends, though he didn’t have the energy to. His whole self felt numb, deathly numb. It was like time itself had frozen as he reflected on memories, memories of much happier times. His hair hung in front of his face, the sunlight shining on the red streak that was in his fringe, a little touch he had added to make him feel a bit better about himself. Plus, regulars at Good Luck Alley always dyed their hair; he was no exception to the rules of that God forsaken place.

Good Luck Alley…Good luck at getting out alive.

There were times Sunny had feared for his life in that alley. Running away from Yama and his gang of thugs to accidentally using his powers on an innocent civillian who had done no wrong. The Mutant Awareness presentation made life for the gifted seem easy, but in reality it was just as hard as being a regular human being.

“Mr Elemente? Are you all right now?” Professor Granville interrupted Sunny’s moment of peace, the onetime were he could have had some quiet, and she had to ruin it. “Your friends have grown quite worried about you; perhaps you should consider rejoining them.”

“I will rejoin them when I am ready. Please, just a few more minutes.”

“Mr Elemente if you are having personal issues I would highly recommend talking to the people who care about you.” Professor Granville suggested, her conscience telling her to run for some reason. “If it is a mental health problem you are suffering from, I know people who may be able to help.”

“That will not be necessary. Now get out.” Sunny demanded, who did this woman think she was? Telling him that he needed help? He didn’t need help of that kind, he was perfectly fine!

“Mr Elemente, please, there is no need to get angry. I was simply recommending seeing a doctor for your own benefit.” Granville’s hand was searching for the handle, her heart beating faster. “If I have offended in you in some way, then I apologise-”

“GET OUT!” Sunny screamed at her, getting to his feet. Fire surrounded him and fresh tears stayed still on his cheeks; Granville had succeeded in pissing him off even if she hadn’t intended to. “GET OUT! YOU THINK YOU UNDERSTAND ME!? LIKE HELL YOU DO! GET OUT!”

Granville was shocked, lips quivering. Taken aback by the fire mutant’s outburst, she noticed that he was trying to calm down by the way his breathing sounded. Clenching onto her clipboard, she did her best to compose herself, but it was no use.

“So…you can actually speak?” she asked, attempting to break the ice a little. “If you are able to communicate, why do you use text-to-speech? I’m confused.”

“Are you always so nosey?

"Are you always so rude?” Granville retorted, putting her clipboard to the side. “Mr Elemente, you strike me as the type of man who has been through a lot in life. It may surprise you, but I do have feelings. I have emotions just like you or anyone else. I think that behind this act of yours, you are simply someone crying out for help. As I have said, I know a few people who specialise in dealing with matters of the mind.”

“And as I have said nothing is wrong with me. Please, leave me alone.”

Sunny pushed passed her, leaving Tadashi’s lab. He shoved his hands into his pockets, not bothering to join Danika or the others. He couldn’t be bothered with people right now; all he wanted was to be left alone. Was it really too much to ask for?

***

“He just left, without telling anyone?” Aspen asked a student, she was becoming worried for Sunny’s well-being. She knew he hadn’t been himself for a while, and she was scared that his problems were only going to get worst if he kept silent about it all the time.

“Yeah.” replied the student, feeling bad that she wasn’t able to help out more. “I don’t know where he went though, sorry about that. I wish there was more I could do to help. If I see him around, i’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

“Thank you.” Ted said, hand on Aspen’s shoulder. “Take care.”

“You too.” smiled the student, going back to her friendship group.

“Maybe he went back home?” Natalie suggested, the situation wasn’t getting any better, she could tell that much. “Then again, I think he would'a told us if he was planning on it.”

“Natalie’s right.” said Danika, worried about Sunny just like Aspen was. “Come on, guys, we gotta go look for him. I don’t think…I don’t think he’s in a good state of mind right now.”

Without a second thought, the mutants went to look for their friend, hoping it wasn’t too late to stop him from doing something he would end up regretting later on.

To be continued…

Author’s Note: I apologise for any mistakes in this. I’ve been writing this since 12:00 PM (GMT) today and it’s now 9:15 (so 8 hours worth of writing). I will go back and fix any errors that I think need fixing, and there will be a second part to this. I’m not sure when that will be, but it will happen.

[temptation-narnia-chronicles]

From Upon the Golden Thrones

Episode 12: The Christmas Ball

      Lucy grinned from the windowsill as a thick blanket of snow covered the land. The fireplace in the corner crackled, radiating a cozy warmth throughout the room. There was just something so comforting about the holiday season and everything to do with it. As Christmas grew nearer, the youngest queen's excitement multiplied. She was determined to make this Christmas the best that Narnia had ever seen, especially since for many, it was their first real Christmas. As such, she went to great lengths to ensure everything would be perfect. Massive evergreens filled the castle, decorated with garlands and candles and poinsettias galore. Wreaths hung from every door, the hallways lined with plush red carpets, and every room smelled of cinnamon. Just like Christmas in Finchley.

     For many, however, this was a very foreign Christmas. Eilonwy's head spun with all the strange new traditions the Pevensies implemented. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how fond she was of them. As she trudged into Parliament that morning, she was quickly overcome with the sickening hunch that this was only the beginning.       "I have a proposal" Susan announced, rising from her seat. A knitted shawl embraced her shoulders, a style she seemed to frequent lately as the temperatures continued to drop. Eilonwy's eyes locked on the antique brooch fastened at her collar, an overwhelming disdain washing over her. She recognized it immediately: her mother's amber pin. Deep down, the huntress knew she would never have made any use of it but the thought of someone else doing just that boiled her blood. She wanted to reach out and rip out straight off of her.       Completely oblivious to his friend's internal monologue, Peter nodded in the queen's direction and prompted her to speak.       "I've been looking over Narnia's previous Christmas protocol" she began, "and I've decided it would be in our best interest to rework Christmas day entirely. I say we replace the annual game hunt with something a little less...dare I say, violent?"       Eilonwy's jaw dropped. "Replace the game hunt? That's absurd! What do you expect t eat for Christmas dinner then? Narnian tradition dictates that the royal family embark on Christmas morning to peg a slew of game for feast. You can't possibly change that!" Her face turned redder the longer she spoke, fists clenched at her sides.       "Well then perhaps we ought to to reevaluate Christmas dinner, as well" Susan suggested. "I certainly wouldn't mind changing the menu. Would you, Peter?"       The High King stood tensely at the head of the table, eyes shifting between both women. He hated seeing his sister and beloved argue, and was smart enough to know choosing sides was a dangerous game. If he disappointed Susan, the unity of the tetrarchy could crumble. If he disappointed Eilonwy, something much more elusive was at stake.       "Well, I mean....Susan, what did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously. A proud grin spread upon the gentle's face.       "Instead of game, maybe we could hold a potluck in which every guest brings a dish native to their country or--" she began but Peter quickly interrupted.       "No, I mean to replace the hunt" he said.       "Wait, I want to hear about the food" Edmund interjected. Susan cast a soft smile to him and replied that they could discuss it later.       "Rather than a hunt, I say we do something special, like a gift exchange of sorts" the gentle suggested.       "Like a Secret Santa!" Lucy interrupted, nearly leaping out of her seat.       "Wait, what's a Secret Santa?" Eilonwy asked in confusion. Never had she heard such a strange phrase before. It must've been an British thing-- certainly it was no tradition of Narnia.       "It's this gift exchange thing where people draw names at random and surprise that person with a gift on Christmas" Edmund explained.       Eilonwy cocked a brow, trying to comprehend the explanation, before replying, "But is that not already implied? Exchanging gifts has always been embedded into Christmas."       "The Secret Santa is more of a social event than a simple tradition, Eilonwy" Susan explained. "And I think it's a wonderful idea."       "But is that not already the whole point of Christmas in the first place? I don't think it's entirely necessary to replace an age-old tradition with something that's already there" Eilonwy argued. "I don't see why we have to change everything about Christmas day. You wake up, eat breakfast, open your presents, and then you go hunting. That's the way it's always been and that's the way it ought to stay."       "I think the Secret Santa is a great idea" Peter chimed in. Eilonwy's eyes widened as she glared back at him incredulously.       "You what?" she exclaimed.       "I think a Secret Santa is a great idea. Really in the Christmas spirit, Lu" he commented. The valiant grinned triumphantly. With a groan, Eilonwy slammed her head on the table and sprawled her arms out in front of her. This is nowhere near what she had hoped for.       "It's okay, Eilonwy. You don't have to participate if you don't want to" Lucy assured her.       "Oh, no, Eilonwy's going to participate" Peter demanded, dismissing the rest of the council.       "Wait, what? You can't force me to be a part of something I want no involvement in" she protested, but Peter refused to hear it. In the back of his mind, he already had the perfect plan and he wasn't going to let Eilonwy back out so easily.       The small group gathered at the head of the table with quills and slips of parchment, scribbling their names and tossing them into a large, golden bowl previously occupied by hand-painted pine cones (courtesy of Susan and Lucy, of course). Professor Arcadian stirred the ballots, eyeing everyone cynically as they waited and mumbling something dryly about how "It's nothing but a simple task of probability, not a matinee drama. Don't look so eager." But they were eager, Peter most of all. One by one, everyone stepped forward to draw a name.       "Don't let anyone know who you received or it'll ruin the fun!" Tumnus announced excitedly, adding for everyone to wait until the end to unfold their paper. As High King, Peter was called upon first. He sucked in a deep breath, dug his hand deep inside the bowl, and prayed that he had grabbed the right parchment. That was the one thing Peter hated about Secret Santas, and the one thing he dreaded more than anything this time around. The randomness of the pick meant that there was no guarantee in getting who you really wanted. For Peter, this was crucial.       Once the bowl had been emptied, Professor Arcadian allowed everyone to unfold their papers. Peter nearly ripped his in half, he worked so quickly. The moment he caught sight of the letter E, his heart leapt into his throat. Had he really gotten so lucky? Upon revealing the rest of the word, his heart proceeded to plummet straight to the pit of his stomach. Edmund. He had picked his own brother. This was not how he intended this to go.       As soon as the others were out of sight, the High King rushed to the doorway and pulled his brother back frantically. "Ed, I need to know whose name you pulled" he blurted, eyes wild and wide.       "Why...?" Edmund asked suspiciously, leaning back a bit to put some distance between he and his brother's faces. "You know, Pete, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of Secret Santa. I don't think the others would be too happy with if you if they found out you were cheating."       "Ed" Peter sighed, rubbing his face. "I know that's not the point but I need to know. This is important. Come on. Please."       Edmund eyed his brother a moment, studying the desperation in his voice and face. Finally, he caved. "Alright, fine. I got Susan" he admitted.       "Dammit!" Peter exclaimed, slapping a palm to his face. "Do you know who drew Eilonwy?"       "No..." Edmund said slowly. "I don't know who anyone drew. And I think that's kind of the point. Why do you need to know?"       "Because I need to trade with whoever drew her. It's all part of my plan!" Peter explained. "I draw her name for Secret Santa, I surprise her with a ring, we dance, we celebrate, we get married, we spend the rest of our lives together, and we live happily ever after, understand? But I can't do any of that if I didn't draw her name!"       The young king blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, he still didn't think this was a very good idea. He had wanted to speak to Peter when he returned from the Shuddering Wood but the High King barely gave him a spare second for private conversation. He was far too preoccupied. "Alright, well in that case, who did you draw?" Edmund finally asked.       "You" Peter replied flippantly. He sank into the nearest seat and tossed the parchment onto the table. "It's going to take forever to try and find Eilonwy's name."       "What would you have bought me?" Edmund interrupted.       "I'm going to have to cycle through everyone. I'll never find it in time" Peter replied, almost as if he hadn't heard the just. Then he paused a moment before turning to his brother. "Wait, what did you say?"       "You drew my name. So what would you have gotten me?" Edmund repeated.       "Ed, you know I can't tell you that. It goes against the rules" Peter replied.       "And so does trading and yet here we are. Come on, Pete. I doubt you'll still have my name by the end of this anyways so go on and tell me"       The magnificent furrowed his brows a moment. Frankly, he hadn't really thought of anything yet. "Um...I don't know. I guess I would've gotten you something like a...like a new sword?"       "Would it have been a nice sword?"       “Oh, god, Ed!"       "What? I'd like to know! You should pass that suggestion along to whoever you trade with. Let them know. I'd like a new sword. Not a replacement so much as an extra. You can never have too many swords, Pete." As Edmund rambled about his goal of learning to wield two swords at once, or inventing a contraption consisting of multiple swords, Peter buried his face in his hands and struggled to untangle a plan. He needed to find whoever drew Eilonwy's name if it was the last thing he did. He needed to trade so he could fulfill his plan. He needed to ask her to marry him.         Later that day, Peter barrelled down the hall toward the library. Just as he assumed, Susan was seated at the long central table surrounded by endless books and papers. No doubt all planning and progress reports for her orphanage.       "Hey, Su, I need to speak with you" Peter spoke, sliding into the seat beside her.       "Well make it quick or save it for later, Pete. Now's not the best time" she replied, eyes locked on her work.        "Alright then. I need to know whose name you drew for Secret Santa" he said. Susan opened her mouth to speak but her brother quickly interrupted. "I know this goes against everything Secret Santa is about so please don't lecture me. I already heard enough of that from Ed."       Finally looking up from her work, the gentle grimaced and shook her head. "That's not what I was going to say. I know you hoped to draw Eilonwy so you could use that as an excuse to propose, but since you didn't, you're going around asking everyone who they drew in hopes of a trade."       "How did you know all that?" Peter asked, taken aback.       "It's pretty simple to figure out, Pete. Besides, I overheard you and Ed this morning" she replied. The moment she mentioned overhearing them, something horrible twisted Peter's gut. If Susan caught wind of their conversation, then anyone could've heard. Eilonwy included. But he couldn't afford to fear-- he was running out of time.       "Well, I'm on a tight schedule here so who did you get?" Peter pressed.       "I'm sorry to say but I drew Lucy" she said. "Have you spoken to her yet?"       Peter shook his head. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to. I know the minute I ask, she'll know something is up and then I'll have to explain myself. You know how Lucy is with secrets. I don't want her to give the game away."       "Well you can either talk to her and potentially end this all now, or you can go through everyone else in the castle and potentially ruin it yourself by word of mouth. It's your choice" Susan replied.       The High King sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I suppose you're right, Su. I just hope I can catch her before tea, or else we'll really have a problem. And by the way, while I'm here, have you heard anything from that blacksmith about the ring?"       Much to Peter's chagrin, Susan shook her head. "I haven't heard from Sir Ollivander in days" she replied sadly. Susan had been of great help in regards to finding Peter the perfect ring. She went so far as to help him design something special, something no one else would ever have, with intricate carvings and a beautiful stone of mossy agate. It was a jewel fit for notj just a queen but one who ran wild through the woods for so long that the forest coursed through her veins. Peter anticipated finally holding it in his hands, wrapping it up in a cute little box and presenting it to his beloved on Christmas morning. Though Susan had relayed the importance of this to the blacksmith in the Western Wood, she hoped his tardiness was just a result of devotion to this and nothing else. "If he doesn't message us in the next 48 hours, though, I suppose I'm just going to have to go down there and check up on him myself" she added. She could see the anxiety clearly painting his face at the thought of things going awry, and placed a gentle hand atop his in reassurance. "I'm sure everthing will turn out fine, Pete. Just have a little faith."       Peter nodded halfheartedly, inhaling to gather his composure. Susan was right. He needed to believe that everything would go according to plan. The clock chimed four in the afternoon, signalling a sigh from the gentle as she rose from her seat and motioned for Peter to come with her. He followed her dutifully to the parlor, despite his distaste for the place, knowing today he had no choice. Lucy had taken it upon herself to plan the entirety of the Christmas ball, seeing as Susan was so busy with her orphanage, and the valiant enjoyed being at the helm of something so grandiose and exciting anyways. Despite her delight, however, it was a big job for such a small girl and she found it necessary to enlist her siblings' help, at least regarding invitations.       When the eldest Pevensies arrived, Lucy and Edmund were already seated at a fully cluttered table chatting away. A little cart sat beside the valiant, stacked high with letters and wax and a stamp of the Narnian crest. Eilonwy lounged on the windowsill casually. Damn.       "Who should we invite next?" Lucy asked, mouth full of watercress.       "Lucy, remember your manners!" Susan scolded tiredly. She drew a piece of folded parchment up from her overskirt pocket and stared at the list scrawled upon it. "I made a comprehensive list of all the neighboring countries, both those with which we share alliances and those we have yet to meet, for us to pick from. We have to remember, this isn't just a celebration. It's a social event and we need to be on our best behavior so that we can make a good first impression with new dignitaries."       "Well, you can start by tossing Brenn in the garbage" Eilonwy commented. Nobody knew these countries as well as she did and the last thing she wanted was for the Pevensies to invite a bunch of ingrates.       "What's wrong with Brenn? Have we met them yet?" Edmund asked. The huntress shook her head.       "No, you haven't. And believe me, you don't want to" she commented.       "Oh, come on, Ellie, they can't be that bad" Peter replied. "No worse than Lord Lemuel and his crew" he continued, turning to the others to then add authoritatively, "who we are definitely not inviting." He was met with a collective nod in reply.       "Listen, just trust me on this one" Eilonwy assured. "Brenn is filled with nothing but cheats and rogues and dishonest scoundrels who don't give a fuck about anyone. They are not the kinds of friends you want to have."       With a sigh, Susan picked up her pen and scratched at the parchment. "Alright then, so Brenn is off the list. What about the Isle of Sparrow?"       For the next hour, Eilonwy rattled off yes and no answers to every nation on the list, giving blunt and rather harsh explanations for each. By the end of the afternoon, they had addressed invitations to only three of the seven isles, Archenland, Calormen, and Galma. It was a far shorter guest list than Susan or Lucy wanted but Edmund reminded them that they had to trust Eilonwy's judgment. After all, she was appointed advisor for a reason.       As everyone filtered out of the room, Peter hung back and called Lucy to join him on the balcony. She stared up at him with curious eyes, unsure of what her brother was hoping to tell her. All she knew was that if it called for privacy, it must be immensely important. "I need to know who you drew for Secret Santa" he said.       "What? But Peter, that's cheating!" she exclaimed. He would've assumed she was highly offended if not for her lively laughter.       "Lucy, I know it's cheating but you just have to trust me. This is really important" he replied, hints of desperation beginning to break through the cracks in his words. The littlest Pevensie cocked a brow in suspicion as she stared back at her brother, watching the madness slowly begin to envelope him.       "Alright, fine. I guess I have no choice but to tell you, I got you!" she exclaimed. "Now that you know, you ought to tell me what you want for Christmas because I've been drawing blanks all day."       Peter sighed. Yet another failed attempt. "Quite honestly, Lucy, all I want right now is to find whoever drew Eilonwy's name."       "Oh...?" she replied slyly. Something was brewing and now she was determined to find out what. "Why do you need to know that?"       Peter averted his eyes, contemplating whether this was a good idea. It was risky business, telling Lucy secrets, but what other choice did he have? The only way she was going t help him was if he finally told her the truth.       "Alright, you want to know why I asked? Because I need to trade with whoever drew her name. I Have something special planned for her but it's only going to work if I'm her Secret Santa, understand?" he explained. Lucy nodded.       "Well, then let me help you find it!" she exclaimed. "We can get it faster if we work together. What do you have planned for her, anyways?" A few moments of silence and Lucy knew Peter's fear. "You don't think I can keep a secret, do you?" Peter bit his lip and slowly shook his head, refusing to look at her. Placing her hands on her hips, Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "You ought to have a little more faith in me, Peter! I'm not that bad! Come on, tell me! Pretty please?"       The thing about Lucy was that she was wildly persuasive. She knew when to pull out all the stops just to get what she wanted. After a few moments, she had transcended all the way to the cute stance and pouty lips, with puppy dog eyes that made her look like she was on the verge of tears lest you keep quiet for one more second.       "Fine" Peter sighed, finally breaking. "But you have to promise not to tell absolutely anyone about this, alright? There is no way Eilonwy can ever find out I'm doing this." Lucy nodded, even pinkie promising to further cement the deal. Peter braced himself, straightening his back and taking a deep breath before finally saying it. "I'm going to ask Eilonwy to marry me."       The second the words fell from his lips, the little queen burst like a firecracker, jumping and shrieking all over the balcony. It took her five whole minutes before she even came close to calming down but when she did, Peter begged her not to say another word about it.       "I can't believe you're going to ask Eilonwy to marry you! Eilonwy's going to be your wife!" she gushed. "And there's going to be a wedding and she's going to wear a white dress and a veil and she'll look so beautiful! And then she'll be like a new big sister!"       "I know, Lucy, it's all very exciting but you have to promise me that no one will find out about this, okay? Especially not Eilonwy. It needs to be a surprise" Peter pleaded.       "I know how to keep a secret, Peter. You act like I've never kept secrets before" she replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise anyways!"       Before Peter could say another word, she bounded off down the hall and returned to her party planning duties. As he watched her disappear, he dug his nails into his palms and swallowed hard, praying that she would keep her word.       The following days passed in a whirlwind of chaos as everyone scrambled to prepare for the event ahead. At every turn, someone was rushing past with an enormous wreath or tray full of pastries or cart of fresh flowers. Lucy worked tirelessly to ensure that their first royal Christmas party was the best that Narnia had ever seen, all while helping Peter with his mission. Nobody really wanted to tell her anything, but just like Lucy, eventually she persuaded them all. It was when they asked for a reason that she faltered. She really did try to keep her promise, but it was so hard when everyone wanted an explanation. By the end of the week, however, the whole castle was abuzz with whispers here and there about the impending engagement.       Like every other day, Hattie scampered up to Eilonwy's room bright and early to deliver a morning snack, make her bed, and retrieve her dirty laundry. It was a ritual Eilonwy wasn't very fond of but after many unsuccessful protests, she unenthusiastically gave in to the pampering. "Sorry for the stains" Eilonwy commented, a scone hanging out of her mouth, as she drew her stockings up over her knee. "I just can't help it, but I know they must be a massive pain in the ass to get out."       "Oh, it's no worries, miss!" Hattie replied happily, inspecting a dress still damp with sludge. "After all, I'm sure after marriage there will be far worse stains to handle."       Eilonwy's back shot ramrod straight, scone falling to the floor. "What did you say, Hattie...?" she asked, rage and fear slowly swelling inside her. She wasn't stupid. She had heard the whisperings, swore she caught the word "marriage" on multiple lips but quickly wrote it off as her mind playing tricks on her. This, however, she knew she definitely heard right.       The moment Hattie realized what she had done, she wished for nothing more than to be absolutely invisible. "I...I said..." she stammered. Eilonwy rose from her vanity and stalked forward, eyes wild and hands clenched. "I mean, I just meant...if you ever do get married then..."       "Come on, Hattie! Out with it!" Eilonwy demanded. Despite their similar heights, the huntress seemed to tower over the faun through sheer force of will and wild intimidation. Hattie stared up at her charge, terrified, clutching the dress close to her chest as if a scrap of dirt wool would protect her.       "I-I've heard word that...that the High King prepares to ask for your hand, miss" Hattie finally said, quick and quiet. Eilonwy instantly crumbled onto her vanity's stool. Her face had grown rather pale and dewy.       "He's...he's planning to marry me..." she stammered softly, staring off into the void. "So the whispers are true..." She looked around the room, at the messy bed and cluttered floor. A box full of memories she had long wished to forget. She had a very small but distinct window of opportunity that was now closing at an incredible speed. If she didn't make her decision soon, she knew the choice would be made for her. No matter what she did, someone was bound to get hurt.       Moonlight filtered through the open windows as a steadfast heart beat in time with a steadfast hand. Tears rolled down flushed cheeks and dripped onto parchment, blurring the swooping letters of a huntress's words. She folded the page neatly and left it there on her vanity, swinging a pack over her shoulder and praying no one would notice her in the crowd. The clock read 10:42pm.       The entire castle was electrified with holiday cheer as the help rushed to pin the finishing touches on the Christmas decor. Father Christmas would be making his rounds, placing presents under the tree for every good boy and girl. Even the adults would get something special, Eilonwy was sure. It was whether they wanted it that was the question.       Everlast neighed and recoiled as an invisible approached in the dark. Eilonwy pulled back her hood and tried to calm the mare, terrified someone might hear her whinny and come running.       Peter weaved through the hordes of guests, searching every face he passed. He wasn't sure if he could wait until Christmas morning. The excitement was almost unbearable. Eilonwy was going to be his bride. He couldn't propose, however, if he couldn't find her. He scoured nearly every room in the castle but to no avail. Finally, he resorted to just knocking on her bedroom door. If she was nowhere else, she was bound to be there, locked away hiding from all the commotion. She was never was one for social gatherings. As he approached her chamber, however, his heart sank like lead into the pit of his stomach: her bedroom door was creaked open. Her door was never open.       He approached cautiously, unsure of what to expect but knew something must be terribly wrong. With bated breath, he peered inside only to find the room completely empty. A defeated sigh passed his lips as he pressed his forehead to the doorway and cursed under his breath. A soft gust of winter air flowed through the room, fluttering the corner of the note left behind. Peter paused, turning to the sound in equal parts curiosity and confusion. He lifted the note cautiously, as if it was a bomb on the verge of explosion. His fingers tingled upon finding it was addressed specifically to him. He recognized the penmanship immediately. Glassy eyes scanned the note quickly, each word stabbing a new blade into his chest.

     Her vague delivery was in no way helpful. If anything, it made him feel even worse. What did he possibly do wrong? He only loved her. The ink still smelled fresh, proving that she had left not too long ago. A fleeting hope surged through his body and without a second's hesitation, he started down the hallway. As he ran, he nearly tripped over a figure slumped on the staircase, face stained with tears.       "Hattie! Where did she go? Tell me now!" he begged, on the verge of tears himself. But Hattie was too dutiful to her charge, shaking her head as she wept hysterically and murmured desperate apologies. Peter waved her off and passed her quickly, knowing any spare second he spent there was a waste of time. Besides, if she hadn't disappeared already, he knew there was only one place she could be.       "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he called, skidding to a halt in the snow. Eilonwy stood in Everlast's pen, cloaked in crimson, tying the last of her things to her horse's flank. The second she heard Peter's voice, she paused and swallowed back her fear. This was the exact kind of confrontation she had hoped to avoid.       "How did you know I'd be here?" she replied, turning slowly to face him. A mixture of fear and frustration painted her face. Peter wasn't sure which dominated, nor did he really care.       "I followed some context clues" he replied sourly, stalking forward. He was gasping for breath, sweat beading on his brow and hands shaking at his sides. "What do you think you're doing?"       "Did you not read my letter?" she replied harshly, recoiling. There was a helplessness to his tone that secretly ripped her heart in half.       "Ellie, please don't do this!" he begged.       "Please don't call me that..." she murmured, averting her eyes.       "You don't want to do this! Please! Don't leave!" he continued. He placed a trembling hand atop hers on Everlast's flank. "I need you. Please don't leave me. I love you...I love you so much. And...and I know you love me, too! You said so!"       "When did I ever tell you that?" she fired back. She was too petrified to remove her hand.       "When you were sick and I took care of you! You looked up at me with tired eyes and admitted you loved me. You need me just as much as I need you so please, stay!" By now, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. His voice was quivering, his hands were shaking. Everything was at stake. He couldn't afford to lose her.       "I don't need you or anyone else to take care of me, Peter!" she shouted back, fighting tears of her own. She was not going to cry. She refused to. Why should she, anyways? She didn't love him. She couldn't love him. She refused.       "Okay, okay. You don't need me. You can take care of yourself. You're fine. But we want each other and that's just as important! And we love each other. That's most important! Please, Eilonwy, I...I can't imagine my life without you. You need to stay. Y-you need...you need to stay with me. Please. I can't do any of this without you."       Eilonwy sniffled and averted her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. "I think you've been doing a pretty fine job so far, you don't need me hovering over everything you do. You make a fine king without me playing puppeteer. It's time to...to cut the strings" she murmured. A smile forced it's way onto her lips but they both knew it wasn't genuine.       "Ellie? Ellie, no! No, please! Don't do this! You can't leave me!" he begged. He took her hands in his, held them tightly to his chest, kissed every bruised and scabbed knuckle as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I love these hands....these strong, purposeful hands. Your quick fingers. If only...if only you'd let me place a ring on one..."       "Peter, stop..." she pleaded, voice hoarse and cracking. Her eyes burned with the impending tears, a few drops escaping and catching on her lashes.       "I love this face, everything about your face" he continued, raising a hand to cup her cheek. He brushed his thumb against her skin, leaning his forehead against hers. "Your eyes, and the way hey look at me. That cute little nose, how red it gets when it's cold. And these lips..."-- he shifted his thumb so as to gently graze her bottom lip-- "how they're always so pale and chapped and imperfectly perfect. And...and this heart"-- his hand skated down to her chest, pressing his palm right between her breasts. "Your good, pure, lion heart."       "Peter...Peter, please..." she wept, struggling to break free from his grip. She was too weak, though whether from exhaustion or sadness she had no clue. "I need to go..."       "But why? Why?" he whined, holding her tighter. His nose was running over his upper lip, his eyes tired and bloodshot. His warm breath fell upon her skin, heavy and desperate and forlorn.       "Because, Peter!" she exclaimed, finally shoving herself away from him. The distance was a welcome relief. She gasped for breath, letting the cold air overwhelm her, and gripped at her hair. "I can't do this! I don't belong here. I never have and I never will! I need...I need to go, Peter. I can't take it here anymore. I can't be trapped here for..for the rest of my life. I can't do it. It's too...it's too much, I just...I can't spend the rest of my days someplace where I'm not happy and I...I'm not...I'm not happy here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so...I'm so sorry. I never...I never meant to hurt you but...but I can't be with you, here, like this. I can't. I'm so...I'm so sorry, Peter..." She recoiled to the very back of the pen, pressing her back against the wood and fighting for her composure. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Peter stood there frozen in his place, watching her through blurred eyes.       "Y-you can't...you can't just leave me like this!" he screamed. He could literally feel his heart tearing inside of his chest, each shard stabbing his flesh from the inside and ripping apart his organs. "You do belong here, Eilonwy! You belong with me..."       The huntress shook her head, breath hitching in her throat. "I don't, Peter. I really don't. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not what you think I am. I was never meant to be a...a wife or a mother or...or a queen. The...the sooner I leave here, the better off we are. All of us."       "Better off? You think leaving makes us better off?" the magnificent asked incredulously. "We're not better off without you, Ellie! We need you! All of us need you!"       "Well, I don't need...all of this" she replied, motioning to the castle. "Peter, please, just...try to listen to me. I can't stand to stay here anymore. It's not right. This castle is a box that I just don't fit inside. B-besides...it's filled with too many horrible memories."       Peter surged forward, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He needed o savor every last moment with her, absorb every single morsel of her being, every detail of her face and body and hair and clothes and scent. "But you do fit, Eilonwy. Please, believe me when I say that. You do. Just please...please stay with me. W-we can make new, beautiful memories to overshadow the bad ones. Just please...if you'd give me a chance..."       "That's...that's not how this works, Peter. That's not how any of this works" she squeaked, shaking her head against his chest. "Just because you make new memories doesn't mean the old ones disappear. They'll always be there, Peter. Every time I walk past that parlor, they're always there. It's all I can see, every waking moment, it's there. I can't...I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this anymore. Please, don't...don't make this any harder th-than it needs to be. I need...I-I need to go, Peter...please...just let me go."       Her pained whispers slaughtered him as he squeezed her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His tears slid down his face and condensed against her skin, seeping into her pores as if a little part of him would always be with her. He held her for a moment longer before loosening his grip, tilting her chin upwards to face him. Looking at him hurt, how broken and dissolved he had become. In that moment, they were no longer the High King and the lost princess. All she saw was that terrified little boy from when they first met, naive and desperate and vulnerable, fighting for something he had a high chance of painfully losing. He had come so far and yet was still so much that same little boy. His shaky fingers brushed the stray strands of hair from her face, just trying to collect every last moment with her and make them last.       "I love you...I love you so, so much..." he whimpered. Caressing her cheek, he gently shifted his head and leaned in, lips barely brushing against hers, but she quickly turned away before he could give her a proper kiss. Kissing would make things far too complicated. This needed to be a clean break. She at least owed him that much. Without another word, she composed herself and mounted her mare, gripping her mane tightly. The longer Peter looked at her, the weaker she felt until she began to question whether she really had the strength to do this. But no, she had to. She had no other choice. She needed to leave. She gazed down at him sadly, forcing a smile. As if in silent communication, she bid him goodbye. In a matter of seconds, she disappeared into the darkness, never to be seen again.       Peter clung to the post of Everlast's pen, watching as is beloved was swallowed up by the night. A rock dropped into his stomach, knowing he would never, ever see her again. The love of his life. The woman he wanted to marry. He slowly reached into his pocket, terrified, and pulled out the ring he was so set on giving her. The moment he laid eyes on it, he burst into monstrous tears, clutching it close to his chest and falling to his knees. Eilonwy was gone and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.       As the morning light fell across her face, Lucy jolted awake with the sugar sweet realization that it was finally Christmas morning. Without a second to lose, she leapt out of bed and down the hall, banging on doors screaming, "Wake up! Wake up! It's Christmas! It's Christmas!" In true Lucy fashion, however, she did all of this at what her siblings would consider an ungodly hour but thus was tradition. The three of them trudged out of their rooms, each in varying degrees of sleep deprivation, and shuffled to the great hall where a large tree filled with presents awaited them. Lucy dove head-first into the pile, astonished with how many boxes there were. She took it upon herself to read the labels on each and hand them out to the deserving recipient, ripping open her own at warp speed only to ooh and aah at every single gift. There was something inherently heartwarming about Christmas morning and the way it seemed to redeem all the bad in the world. At least for most people.       "What happened to you? Rough night last night?" Edmund asked his brother, the only one without a smile upon his face. The High King was an absolute mess. His cheeks felt tight from the tears that had dried upon them the night before, his eyes were puffy and red, face pale and hair matted beyond repair. Even his pajamas were buttoned incorrectly, much to Susan's obsessive-compulsive chagrin. Peter simply groaned in response, shaking his head and rubbing his face.       "I really don't want to talk about it, Ed. Just open your presents and carry on as if I wasn't here" he croaked. The just simply raised a brow and slowly turned back to the task at hand.       "Peter! This one's for you!" Lucy exclaimed, struggling to lift a rather large box from beneath the tree. Peter sighed and forced himself forward to take it from her, dragging it back to his seat. Truthfully, he didn't give a damn about Christmas presents. The only thing he wanted, he was never going to get back. Contrastingly, though, he didn't want to seem rude and turn down anything he was given. He ripped the package open carelessly to find a large tapestry mapping out the whole of Narnia and the surrounding countries. It was impressive, no doubt, but even something so grand as this could not enlighten Peter this morning.       Lucy's voice once again snapped him from his daze, standing with a decent sized box to ask, "Say, Peter? Where's Eilonwy? This one's addressed to her." The High King's heart suffered another tinge of pain, his throat constricting to the point where he was unsure if he could even speak.       Tossing his box to the ground, he shook his head and replied, "She's not coming."       "Not coming? What do you mean?" Susan exclaimed. "She's not sick or something again, is she?"       "No" Peter said bluntly. "She's gone."       "What do you mean she's gone?" Lucy asked dreadfully. She lowered the box to the ground, her heart racing in fear.       Peter wasn't sure if he had the strength for this. A part of him hated Eilonwy for leaving him to explain her mess to everyone. For leaving him heartbroken. "She left. Late last night" he started, then explained everything that had happened to the best of his ability. The room had grown dead silent as he finished, sucking nearly all the joy out of Christmas morning with his tale.       "But what about the proposal...? She was going to be a part of our family..." Lucy murmured. She didn't understand. They had treated Eilonwy with nothing but kindness. They loved her dearly. They wanted her to stay with them forever. The littlest queen couldn't see any reason as to why their dear friend would just leave, especially without saying goodbye.       "Not anymore, she's not" Peter said. "But don't let me ruin your Christmas. I'm fine. Promise." He was obviously not fine. Everyone could tell the High King was heartbroken but he refused to let them pity him. He had brought all of this upon himself. He was hasty and naive. He had jumped the gun and tried to propose to a girl who didn't even want him to begin with. By now, he was certain that he must have hallucinated that night she told him she loved him. He must have imagined it all, projected his own desires into a hazy, sleep-deprived memory. Not that any of it mattered anymore. There was nobody to blame but himself.       As day turned to night and the sun dipped into the Great Eastern Sea, guests from all across the land began filing into the ballroom. A group of fauns gathered in the corner to play a rousing tune: Tumnus's flute fluttered alongside Professor Arcadian's violin, with Hattie surprisingly manning the drums in a talent nobody had ever expected of her. Every guest overflowed with happiness, dancing and stuffing their faces. In that moment, that was all that mattered.       "At least everyone else is enjoying themselves" Lucy remarked as she poured herself another glass of punch.       "Why do you say that?" Edmund asked, filling his plate once more. "Are you not having fun?"       Lucy shook her head. "No, Ed, as a matter of fact I'm not."       "Why not? This is all your hard work. Everyone is having a great time. I'd say all of your planning turned out to be a success. You should reap the benefits, Lu. After all, it's Christmas."       "Well, it doesn't feel like Christmas. Not like this" Lucy sighed. Her eyes shifted to Peter staring absently out the large windows. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."       Edmund glanced to his brother and shook his head. "I know you feel for Pete. We all do. But this isn't our problem. Peter needs to figure his way out of this maze and when he does, he'll be fine."       "Edmund, you don't understand. This is all my fault" Lucy pleaded.       "Lu, what are you talking about? You had nothing to do with this."       "Yes, I did" she demanded. "If it wasn't for me and my big mouth, Eilonwy never would've found out about the proposal and everything would've been alright. I did this and there's nothing I can do to fix it."       Edmund sighed and wrapped an arm around his baby sister. "Lucy, listen. If it wasn't for Peter being hasty and rushing into a proposal, you never would've been put in the situation you were. This is Peter's battle and all we can do is let him know we're there for him and that we care about him, you know?"       Lucy nodded halfheartedly. "I suppose you're right. Still doesn't make me feel much better, though."       "You will, Lucy. I promise, you will" Edmund reassured her. Lucy leaned her head on her brother's shoulder, watching their guests laugh and dance, and prayed that he was right.       As the night neared it's end, Professor Arcadian called for everyone's attention to initiate the Secret Santa exchange. Tumnus stood on tiptoes, oblivious to the drastic changes of their plan, and conducted a quick head count to ensure everyone was there. A look of distress crossed his face when he discovered someone very important was, in fact, missing.       "Where's Eilonwy? She needs to be here, too!" he exclaimed.       "She's not coming" Peter announced bluntly. He didn't have the heart to explain everything a second time, leading Susan to jump in and whisper a brief explanation. Tumnus uttered a soft oh as he chewed over the news, Hattie gripping her friend's forearm for both comfort and support.       "I should've known she would be the cause of some sort of kerfuffle here" Arcadian remarked, glaring over the top of his spectacles.       Tumnus bowed his head in response, placing a hand upon Hattie's. "Eilonwy was a dear friend. To all of us. She may have had her moments, but she was kindhearted at the core of it all. She will be missed dearly." His mind flashed back to when he came to her a year prior, speaking of his fears in entertaining the human Lucy Pevensie in his home and Eilonwy's outburst of a reply. Despite how cruel she had sometimes been, he still held her very near and dear to his heart. He never would've wished ill upon her. A small sliver of him prayed she'd come to her senses and return someday soon, but he knew Eilonwy well enough to understand she was often far too stubborn to back down from her decisions. If only he could've just seen her one last time.       "What about the presents?" Lucy then asked.       Snapping from his daze, Tumnus exclaimed and replied, "Well, I suppose you can all feel free to exchange your gifts with one another now."       "I'm sorry I didn't actually get you anything, Ed" Peter mumbled, turning to his brother in personal disappointment. Edmund placed a hand upon the High King's shoulder.       "It's alright, Pete. I understand" he whispered softly. Though he knew it wasn't exactly his problem, he, too, missed Eilonwy. He still may not have known her very well but he knew enough to at least like her. In many ways, she reminded him of himself: a mended traitor with a shameful history. She understood his strange and experiential relationship with Jadis like no one else because she, too, had faced her own long before. She was outspoken and brash and blunt and strong. She was, to Edmund, an ideal model of patriotism and valor. She deserved so much better than what she was dealt.       Lucy approached slowly, nervously, clutching a small box in her hands. "Peter? I know this may not be the most appropriate gift to give you now, but I didn't have time to get you anything else. I'm dreadfully sorry."       The High King shook his head, still appreciative of the gift, and took the box from her. He opened it slowly to find two little wooden figures modeled after himself and Eilonwy. A sob broke past his lips as he turned to Lucy and wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. "Thank you anyways, Lucy. I love it."       "I thought...I thought you could put them on top of the cake when you, you know...got married" she whispered, skirting around her words carefully. Tears welled up in her own eyes at the thought of that wedding never coming to fruition. She had so hoped for her brother and friend to get their happily ever after.       "It's okay, Lucy" Peter whispered, wiping his tears. "All I wanted for Christmas was Eilonwy, but now that she's gone, I suppose this is as close as I'm ever going to get."       Lucy nodded solemnly, patting her brother's back, before a realization struck her. Turning to the rest of the guests, she commanded their attention and then asked, "Wait a minute, who drew Eilonwy?"       All the faces in the crowd looked to one another quizzically, checking their slips and shaking their heads.       "You mean none of you drew Eilonwy's name?" Susan questioned. Again, everyone shook their heads. The four Pevensies looked to each other in confusion, trying to figure out how that could possibly be. Clearly someone was failing to speak up.       "It is my understanding..." a voice then boomed. Professor Arcadian stepped forth from the crowd, looking as pretentious as ever. "...That in a drawing of 25 such as yourself, the chance of a negative permutation is far larger than one might expect." When the professor was met with a full minute of unblinking eyes, he sighed and shook his head before adding, "In layman's terms, it is not unlikely that Miss Eilonwy has perchance drawn herself."       Another long minute of silence enveloped the ballroom as Peter comprehended the possibility of such a thing. It made quite a bit of sense: there was no way he could've ever hoped to find her name if she had it herself the whole time. Not that any of it mattered much now. She was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing else mattered anymore.       Saddened by their brother's heartbreak, Susan and Edmund and Lucy all huddled close and wrapped their arms around the High King in comfort. They knew it wasn't much and that it probably wouldn't make him feel any better but it was the least they could do for someone they loved so much. As the night came to a close and the guests began filtering out one by one, Peter stood by the large windows and looked out at his country longingly. He knew not where Eilonwy had gone nor where she intended to end up but wherever she was, he hoped she was happy with the decisions she had made. What he did know, however, was that no matter where she went, he could scour the entirety of Narnia and the surrounding countries and would never find anyone was amazing, as strong, as beautifully complex as that little lost princess. And, by extension of that, that he would never love anyone nearly as much as he loved Eilonwy, Princess of Narnia.

[vanderlinde-moved]

i guess that’s love (i can’t pretend)

summary: Cassian and Jyn quickly figure out how difficult it is to hide things from each other. 

Or, five times Jyn tries to keep something from Cassian, five times Cassian tries to keep something from Jyn, and one time they don't even bother with anything except the truth.

11k, 10 + 1 fic, angst and fluff, mostly hurt/comfort

read it on ao3!

i.

When Jyn sees Cassian waiting for her in the hangar bay, she forgets all about the enormous bruise covering half of her face. Instead, she grins and waves him over as if nothing's wrong while she begins to unload the cargo from their last mission.

That turns out to be a mistake.

The worry in his eyes is evident once he gets closer. He tilts up her chin to the light when she sets down a crate next to him, probing her cheek for any broken bones. “Hello to you too,” she grumbles, pulling away from his scrutiny.

“I worried about you,” he says simply, pulling her into a hug. His head rests on top of her own and she buries his face into his chest. Force, she had missed him. When she pulls away, his eyes linger on her bruise. “What happened to your face?”

“I fell,” she lies easily, leaving him to walk back into the cargo bay. He raises an eyebrow, not believing her. She groans, “It’s fine, Cass.”

He makes himself comfortable against the side of the ship, evidently waiting for her to finish up, and she scowls. “You know, we’ll get to the room a lot faster if you help me.”

“Trying to get the higher ups to do all for the work for you, huh, Erso?” Kes calls from farther back in the ship and laughs when she flips him off. “Wow. Absolutely no respect for your commanding officer.”

“I only respect those worth respecting, Dameron,” she retorts with a grin of her own, carrying out another box to where Cassian is standing. He snags her arm before she can grab another. “Cassian -- “

“What really happened, Jyn?”

“She saved my back,” Kes says, bringing out the last of the crates and leaning up against it. He pauses. “Creatively, I’ll admit, but in hindsight, I probably should have been more clear when I told her to cover me.”

“Kes -- “

“Jyn -- “

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, fine! But this whole thing is Kes's fault, not mine.”

“How the hell is it my fault that you -- “

“We got caught up by a bunch of ‘troopers,” she interrupts loudly, cutting him off with a deadly glare. He makes the smart decision to stay quiet. “They backed us up in an alley and the only way out was through.”

“So you were hit by a stormtrooper,” Cassian nods. “Why couldn’t you have just said that in the first place?”

“Well, I mean, that’s not really what happened. Yeah, one of them got me in the face but that’s because. . “ she scratches the back of her neck then glances up at Cassian. “You’re going to be upset with me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stars, Jyn, just tell me.”

“Like I was saying, we had to fight our way through. We took care of most of them and everything was fine until Kes,” she shoots another glare his way, who raises his hands in surrender, “turns to make some sort of joke -- “

“In my defense, it was a good one -- ”

Jyn continues as if he hadn’t interrupted. “So he turns his back to the entrance to say it and there’s another ‘trooper entering the alley. . .and I might have tackled them to the ground instead of shooting them with my blaster.”

She spits the last part out so quickly that she’s not even sure it registers in Cassian’s mind until he looks at her incredulously. Kes takes that as his cue to leave. Neither of them notice him sneak off.

“You decided to tackle a stormtrooper,” Cassian says, holding up a hand when she opens her mouth. “I don’t need to tell you how incredibly kriffing stupid that is, do I?”

Jyn shifts her weight to her other foot, a blush beginning to work its way up her cheeks. She tries to defend herself. “I didn’t think. I just did it.”

“What if they would have killed you, Jyn?” he replies softly, reaching out to grab her shoulder.

She bites her lip, unable to look him in the eyes. “I’m fine, Cassian. It’s just a bruise.”

He sighs, gives her one last look, then pulls her into a tight hug. “I know. But I worry about you.”

“It’ll take more than a stormtrooper to take me down,” she reassures him, rubbing his back. “I’ll be more careful in the future, okay?”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he mutters, squeezing her tighter. “But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.”

ii.

Jyn only starts fights for good reasons.

Whether it’s due to an unwelcome touch, because of an insult, for an op, or maybe even just because she wants to, there’s always something justifying why she’s beating up another person.

Lately, there's been whispers surrounding her. About her being half-Imperial, about her father building the Death Star, about her criminal background. And there's even a rumor going around saying that she's only sleeping with Cassian to work her way up the ranks. When asked about it, she lies and tells him that it doesn't bother her. She's heard it all and worse already, though it stings a bit more when it comes from who she's fighting for.  

But she's never done anything about it, despite that. It's just easier to ignore them and continue on with her day. 

This changes when she slams her fist into the face of the man standing behind her in the mess line. 

It’s early. Cassian’s in a debrief with Draven; he’s leaving later that morning but promised to meet up with them at breakfast to say goodbye. Chirrut and Baze are sitting at their usual table, so that leaves her waiting in line for food with Bodhi. 

Bodhi’s telling her about how he and Luke had trained together yesterday. She's only half-listening, since it’s too early to be up anyway, when the rebel behind them cuts into their conversation with a snide, “You two Imps have no business being here in the Rebellion.”

Bodhi stops talking and Jyn turns slowly, glaring at the man. “Yeah? Says who?”

“Says all the people he killed during his time with the Empire,” he retorts, jerking his thumb in Bodhi’s direction. "Why should I believe he's on our side now?"

“I was just a shuttle pilot!” Bodhi yelps, shrinking away from the man. Jyn takes a step forward, seeing red. Her hands clench into fists -- suddenly she’s not that tired anymore. “I didn’t kill anyone!”

“He’s with the Rebellion now and so am I,” she practically growls. “Leave him the fuck alone, you bastard.”

“And you,” the man sneers, swinging his attention back in her direction. “What about all the people on Alderaan who were only killed because of your father’s invention? You ever think about them? All that death because of your kriffing family -- “

He’s still talking when Jyn slams her fist into his face. There’s a crunch when the man stumbles back, she realizes with some satisfaction, though it’s short-lived when he swings right back at her.

Nobody’s concerned about waiting in line anymore. Instead, a circle forms around the two of them as Jyn darts away from his strike. The man spits blood onto the ground, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ll pay for that, you Imperial bitch!”

“You’ll have actually hit me, then,” Jyn retorts, slamming her knee up into his stomach. He groans, taking a step back as he presses an arm against it. Vaguely, she can make out cheers around her, but the pounding of her heart makes it hard to hear anything clearly.

While the man recovers, she risks a look back for Bodhi. He’s out of the circle and away from the fight, but he’s yelling something that she can’t understand, and it’s that distraction that slows her reflexes when the man charges her.

Jumping to the side a little too late, she goes down in a tangle of limbs, knocking her head back against the tile floor. She sees stars for a second before regaining her senses. He’s pinning her down, trying to get a punch in. She kicks him in the groin and he rolls off of her with a cry of pain as she clambers back to her feet.

Jyn’s ready to finish it, the adrenaline in her veins causing her to surge forward for one last punch, but someone grabs her arms and heaves her back. “Not now, little sister,” Baze mutters in her ear as she tries to struggle away from him. “You've done enough damage.”

"I'll stop when he takes back what he said," she seethes, but is cut off when some higher up strides into the mess with a recruit on his heels. She has no idea who he is, but by the looks of it, he outranks everyone there.

"What the hell is going on here?" The man snaps. With some satisfaction, Jyn notices that he looks at her opponent first and openly gapes at the sight of him.

"There was a disagreement," Jyn spits, looking down at the man on the floor. 

She’s still shaky from the adrenaline but holds her chin high when he orders the two of them to come with him. Her head is pounding and her knuckles are bloodied, but it doesn't matter, not since she kicked his ass.

Still riding the high from her win, she doesn't notice Cassian walking down the hallway toward him. He mutters something to the other man, then takes her by the arm and drags her away from them. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hisses, once they're out of earshot. "You can't just go around and start picking fights!" 

She tries for innocence even though she knows she'll fail. "I wasn't fighting." 

He grabs her hand roughly, holding it up in the light. "Really? Explain this, then." 

"It's from sparring," she says, tugging her hand back. "I forgot to wrap my hands." 

"Bantha shit," he snaps, throwing his hands up in the air. "You know how much work I'm going to have to do to keep you out of trouble because of this?" 

"Don't, then!" she replies hotly. "He deserved it! He insulted Bodhi and my father, so I'm glad I punched him. Besides," she says, turning away from him. "Don't you have a flight to catch?" 

Cassian barely flinches at her words, but she doesn't take them back. This is the final straw, she thinks. This is where he realizes that she's more trouble than she's worth, and it would be easier just to leave her behind. 

But when he doesn't leave, doesn't storm off, she faces him with furrowed brows. "Go. I don't want you to be late because you have to do damage control.

"Stop." He says, anger lacing his tone. Then he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. It's messy now, but she likes it that way. "I didn't know he said that, okay? Some recruit came running into the meeting and all she said was that you had thrown a punch in the mess hall." 

"I'm not going to apologize," she says slowly. 

"I don't expect you to," he responds evenly. "You should have said something, Jyn. Tell me next time someone says something to you, or to Bodhi, hell, even to Chirrut or Baze. I'll deal with it." 

"I don't need you fighting my battles, Cassian," she retorts, crossing her arms. "I can handle myself." 

"By the looks of that other guy, clearly," he mutters. "Listen, just try not to get into anymore fights, okay? I know you can hold your own, but. . .I worry. At the very least, do it for me." 

"No promises," she shoots back. "But -- I'll try."

"Good enough," he concedes, then slings an arm over her shoulders. "Since you mentioned it earlier, I do have to leave. Come with me to the hangar?" 

She nods and they walk together in silence. Once they're there, he cups her face in his hands. "Try to stay out of trouble, all right?"

A sly grin works its way across her face. "Next time, someone says something, there won't be a fight. I'll make sure of that when I punch them so hard they don't get back up." 

"You're hopeless," he groans, but grabs her in a tight hug all the same. "Be careful while I'm gone." 

"I always am." 

iii.

This is familiar: their hands are all over each other, she can’t get enough of him, his shirt is off, and she’s already lying on her back with him hovering over her.

This is different: the lights are still on, he’s taking his time, exploring her body with his lips, taking off her shirt and breast band with expert precision, and looking down at her with wonder in his eyes.

When Cassian kisses the burn scars on her collarbone, the scars from Scarif, Jyn flinches.

She hopes he doesn’t notice, but he does. His eyes are full of concern as he scrambles up to a sitting position between her legs. “Jyn?” His accent grows thicker with each word. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she says with a smile that hopefully doesn’t look too much like a grimace. He looks skeptical, but lets her tug him back down for another kiss. When she slips one hand into his pants, squeezing him gently, he moans into her mouth.

Immediately she calms, ready to take care of him. This is what is she knows -- it’s what she’s good at. But Cassian stops her as she reaches lower with a small shake of his head. “Let me touch you tonight, Jyn.”

She freezes. He notices.

Damn spy.

He cups her face in his hands, searching intently in her eyes. “Jyn. What’s wrong?”

He’s so tender with her that she could cry. Nobody has ever treated her this kindly, nobody has ever even thought about her this way. It’s almost too much.

(when she does inevitably let a few tears fall, he doesn’t say anything, just kisses wetness away.)

“Nobody’s ever done this. For me,” she manages, her cheeks already red with embarrassment. “And after Scarif, I’m. . .”

Why would anyone ever want someone who looks like I do, all broken and managed and rough skin where it should be soft?

“I’m covered in scars,” she finishes weakly. “I’m a mess.”

It’s not just the burns that bother her. It’s a reminder of that day where so many people died. She wears it on her skin -- it’s her burden. Cassian shouldn’t be forced to remember it every time he looks at her. She shifts, trying to cover the worst of it with her hands.

He stops her.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Cassian says firmly, waiting until she looks him in the eyes. “Your scars are beautiful because they’re a part of you, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He kisses her again, softer, more gentle. When he pulls away, he searches her face. “I don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want.”

Force, she does not deserve him.

“I want you,” she says after a beat. Her heart’s racing, but she trusts him. “But slowly.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement. “Of course.”

He starts at her neck, careful of the scars there. When he kisses lower, tongue running over the scars on her collarbone and shoulder, she gasps, fingers curling in the bed sheets.

“Is this all right?” he murmurs from where he’s kneeling and Jyn knows that if she wants him to stop, he will without hesitation.

But she doesn’t.

“Yes,” she whispers, watching him make his progress down her body. His fingers brush over her nipples oh so softly and it makes her toes curl when he takes one in his mouth, kneading her other breast with his hand.

As he kisses the burns on her stomach, he’s whispering something in Festian that she can’t understand. He’s got his fingers hooked in her pants when he looks up again, unspoken question in his eyes. She nods mutely, biting her lip as she watches him finish undressing her.

She’s already wet for him when he moves even lower. He's barely touched her, but at this point she doesn't even care.

“Jyn,” he says, looking up at her from between her thighs. “I would like to taste you, if that’s okay.”

She nearly chokes at his question, throwing her head back against the pillows. It's as if he wants her to come undone without his help. “Force, Cassian -- yes.”

He laughs then, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “You are perhaps the most gorgeous woman in this galaxy.”

“You’re only saying that because your head is between my legs,” she shoots back, though there’s no heat in what she’s saying and her fists are clenched so tightly in the sheets she thinks her nails might be going right through them.

“No place I’d rather be,” he quips, looking up one last time before placing his mouth on her.

And after a few minutes of that, she thinks she believes him.

iv.

When faced with a snowstorm and a small, dark cave that seems to go on forever, Jyn really wants to risk hypothermia.

After all, it's just a little snow. So what if she can barely see a foot in front of her and her face is stinging in the wind and she’s so kriffing cold that she thinks she’s going lose a couple limbs because of it?

No big deal.

She had eagerly accepted a chance to get off base with Cassian earlier that morning. What should have been an easy perimeter check turned into difficult situation when a blizzard came out of nowhere. Risk going back to base in the middle of the storm and possibly die on the way, or stick it out in a cave Cassian had found five minutes ago?

Cassian chose the latter; Jyn thought they should go back to base. Obviously, she lost that argument.

So here she is. Standing just barely in the entrance to a cave she really doesn’t want to go in, waiting for Cassian to finish scouting the back part of it. Technically, he had told her to try and find a good spot to spend the night, but she’s decided to wait for him at the front in case something goes wrong.

Here’s the thing -- she’s still cold. She knows that she should walk a few feet farther in the cave because it would be a hell of a lot warmer, but all she can think of is the cave on Lah’mu and the hours spent in the dark seeing her mother die over and over again and not knowing if her father was coming for her. All she can think about is when Saw left her with a blaster, sixteen and all alone, waiting two days until her rations ran out and she finally understood that Saw had left her behind. All she can think about is her cell on Wobani, small and cramped, where she was only let out occasionally and it seemed like the walls were always pressing in on her, closing tighter and tighter and all she can think about is Scarif, when they were in that small elevator waiting to die --

Breathe.

She reaches up to her neck before she realizes her necklace is no longer there, then moves her fist to her sternum. Her breath is coming in fast pants and there’s black spots in front of her vision and hasn’t it been a long time since Cassian left where is he?

You’re Jyn Erso. You’re not Tanith or Kestrel or Liana. You’re a sergeant in the Rebellion. You’re twenty-three years old. You’re not on Lah’mu, or in a bunker, or in a prison cell, or on Scarif. Cassian is here. You’re not alone.

She reaches out blindly, grabbing the cave wall for support. Her fingers are digging into it so tightly that she can feel the pain through her gloves, but it helps return her to her senses.

You’re on Hoth. There’s a snowstorm so you had to find shelter. It’s a cave. It’s just a cave.

Tentatively, she takes a step forward. Then another and another. After about twenty steps, she finds herself unable to go any farther. The space before her is too dark, too small, too cramped.

So she sets down her pack where she is, then slides down against the wall. She sits with her knees pulled up to her chest and her hands tucked into her armpits, but she needs to be able to see the entrance, see that there's a way out.

“Jyn?”

“I found a good s-spot to spend the night,” she manages, ignoring the way her teeth chatter. Her eyes don’t leave the mouth of the cave.

He shakes his head. “It’s too cold here. We need to go farther in. I checked -- we’re the only ones here.”

“Right,” she agrees, but doesn’t move. Instead, she curls farther in on herself, trying to stay warm.

Maybe the snowstorm will end in the next five minutes.

Cassian moves to stand in her line of sight, cutting of her view from the entrance. She cranes her neck up to look at him. He doesn’t look as cold, but his breath is puffing on in front of him and his nose is bright red.

“Come on, Jyn,” he says, frustrated. He reaches out a hand to help her up, which she takes after a moment’s hesitation. “The longer we stay out here, the faster we’ll freeze.”

He tugs her forward, but her feet are rooted in their place and she can't move. It seems like the cave in front of them is shrinking, growing smaller and smaller, and she’s tugging her hand out of Cassian’s because the last thing she wants is to be crushed by a shit ton of rocks when she can just go outside --

“Jyn, look at me!”

Suddenly his hands are cupping her face and her vision refocuses. She’s on the ground -- she doesn’t remember falling -- and he’s kneeling next to her, worry evident on his face. “Focus on me. You need to breathe, okay?”

It takes her a minute before she’s all right again. She pulls away from him and puts her face in her hands. “I’m -- I’m sorry. We. . .we need to g-go.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling her hands away gently. “What’s wrong? You completely froze up.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” he replies evenly. “I thought you were going to pass out. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him quickly. “Just. . .”

He waits, eyes searching hers for any hint that she’s lying. Nausea rolls in her stomach. She hates this -- she’s Jyn kriffing Erso who’s survived everything the Empire’s thrown at her and then some. She shouldn’t be afraid of a cave.

And yet --

“I can’t -- I don’t like small spaces. With everything that’s happened. . .” she struggles to explain herself but the words don’t come. He’d understand better if he knew about Saw and her mother and all of the cells she’s been thrown into, but her tongue is dry and she can’t speak.

He doesn’t make her. “All right,” he says, nodding to himself. “That’s fine -- it’s fine, Jyn. We’re going to have to move, though. We’ll go ask far back as you’re comfortable, okay?”

“Force,” she laughs, though it’s shaky and more of an exhale. “I don’t deserve you, Cass.”

He smiles at that, standing up and offering her his hand again. “You do,” he says when he hauls her up. “Of course you do.”

It’s easier with Cassian next to her. With each step she takes they’re farther and farther away from the entrance, but it doesn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. Eventually, though, she has to tell him to stop. It might be warmer farther in the cave, but this is going to have to do for the night.

They both strip to their underclothes methodically -- this isn’t the first mission they’ve had to share body heat on -- and arrange their coats into something that’s going to serve as their bed for the night. As soon as she slips underneath the covers, she curls into Cassian’s warmth, letting her cold fingers wander his bare torso.

“You’re freezing,” he mutters, batting her hands away. Jyn’s always been persistent, however, and doesn’t let that deter her.

“I feel better when I can touch you,” she responds with a laugh, pressing her cold toes up against his thighs. She can hear his groan resonate throughout the cave, which only makes her laugh harder.

“I was worried about you,” Cassian admits into the silence once she’s done giggling.

She snuggles closer, pressing her cold nose to his shoulder. “Don’t be. I’m okay.”

It surprises her, but it’s true. The fear’s still there, though every time in the next hour that it bubbles up and causes her breathing to quicken, Cassian tightens his arms around her and murmurs soothing words into her hair until it stops.

She falls asleep before he does, listening to the wind howling outside and deciding maybe this whole cave thing hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

v.

“Bodhi. Bodhi Rook. I’m not that drunk.”

“You weren’t until you challenged Han to a drinking contest, I’ll give you that,” Bodhi says, reaching out to steady her as she sways on her feet. She bats his hands away, perfectly capable of standing on her own.

“A drinking contest that I won,” she retorts, curling her fingers around the mug in her hands -- another drink that burns on the way down. Then, she raises her voice over the noise of the cantina, “because Solo doesn’t know how to hold his liquor!”

The aforementioned Han Solo is passed out at the table next to her, and while she knows that she really doesn’t need to yell, she feels like everyone there should know.

“Believe me, you’ll be joining him soon,” Bodhi mutters in response, plucking the drink out of her hands with the ease of someone who's hardly had any alcohol. “C’mon. We’re going to get you to bed.”

“I'm fine.“

“Don’t try, Jyn. You can barely stand on your own, let alone make it back to your room by yourself and I’m tired. Wouldn’t you rather be warm in bed right now?”

“That does sound nice,” she mumbles, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her like a brick. When he wraps his arm underneath her shoulder, she doesn’t resist, letting him lead her out of the cantina. They pass Leia on their way out, who’s sitting next to a snoring Han and looks very much like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Jyn gives her a sloppy salute. Bodhi asks if she needs any help with Han, but Leia says she’ll manage. Jyn doubts that, considering that the smuggler is nearly a foot taller than her, but Leia is a princess. That has to count for something.

Though as soon as she thinks that, she realizes that perhaps she's drunker than she first realized.

To both Jyn and Bodhi’s relief, Cassian is in their room when they get there. Jyn stumbles to the bed while Bodhi watches from the doorway, amused.

“I’ll take it you had a good time?” Cassian asks drily.

Her voice is muffled from the pillow she’s currently laying on, but that doesn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “I drank Han Solo under the table and I’m not drunk.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Bodhi snorts. “I’m going to let you deal with her. Night, Jyn.”

She scrambles up in bed before he can leave, suddenly serious. There's something she should tell him before he leaves. “Bodhi Rook -- I need you to know that I would die for you.”

“That is. . .great,” he says, trying to keep a straight face. “Hopefully you won’t have to. I’m going to, ah, go to bed now.” He turns to Cassian before he leaves. “Don’t let her die for me.”

“I will do my very best,” Cassian replies, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. When Bodhi leaves, Jyn falls back against the bed again. “You need anything? Water?”

“You,” she says, raising up one hand to beckon him to the bed. “C’mere, Cass.”

“When you put it that way, how could I say no?” he teases, though sets down the file he’s reading and sits next to her. “You really beat Solo in a drinking contest?”

“Of course,” she replies, slightly hurt that he doesn’t believe her. “I always win. I’m the best at drinking.”

Cassian chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m not the drunk, though,” she insists again, reaching out to grip his hand. It’s important that he knows this, she thinks. “It takes more than a couple drinks to get me drunk.”

“Never said you were,” he replies, quirking an eyebrow up, then adds sarcastically, “You seem pretty sober to me.”

Good. She is pretty sober. It had only been a couple drinks and then some shots and then another drink. And a winning shot. Because she won.

“I think it’s time you get some sleep, okay?”

“Only if you stay with me,” she mumbles, eyes already closing. She doesn't want him to leave her alone, so she tightens her grip on his hand.

“I think that can be arranged,” he responds. At least, she thinks he does. When he says it, she’s already passed out.

She wakes up the next morning to Cassian shaking her shoulder gently. Her body aches, and her head feels like it’s going to split in two. “As much as I’d like to let you sleep, Mothma wants us in the meeting room.”

“Bullshit,” Jyn groans, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. Everything is way too loud. “She knows that we were all up drinking and now she wants to punish us.”

“Not everyone drank as much as you,” he points out, helping her out of bed. She swats away his hands grumpily when he tries to help her with her shoes. “As I recall, Bodhi only had two drinks.”

“She’s out to get me, then,” she amends, tugging on her jacket and pressing her palm against her pounding forehead. “Me and Han.”

"Here," he hands her a glass of water. "This should help." 

"I'm not hungover," she mutters, but takes the glass anyway. The water helps -- but not much. "I didn't even have that much to drink."

That's a blatant lie and she knows Cassian doesn't believe her. But all he does is smirk and hold open the door, "After you, then."

Jyn really wants to tackle him.

When they get to the meeting room, Han’s leaned up against the wall looking as bad as she feels. There’s dark circles under his eyes and his hood’s all the way up, hiding most of his face from view. When he catches her looking at him, he scowls. “Don’t you say anything about last night, Erso. Don’t you dare.”

Jyn opens her mouth to respond, but Cassian beats her to it. “There's really nothing to say, sir,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. There's a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, yet he still keeps up formalities. “She won, General Solo. That's all there is to it. ”

She smothers her laughter in Cassian's shoulder as Han sends an absolutely murderous glare their way.

i.

Growing up on a cold planet, Cassian doesn’t mind Hoth as much as the others. Sure, it’s hard getting out of a warm bed every morning, but it’s not bad as a whole. He’s cozy at night next to Jyn and the weather reminds him vaguely of Fest.

The only issue is how stiff the cold makes him. His limp has become more pronounced in the few weeks that they’ve been there and no matter what he says, nobody seems to believe him that it’s fine.

(“Fine” is a relative term, however. It aches almost as badly as it did right after he broke it on Scarif. But he’s not going to say that, of course.)

“You know,” Chirrut remarks pleasantly, one morning at breakfast. “Baze never complains about it, but I know his back get stiff in the cold, captain.”

“I do not get stiff,” Baze growls, but Chirrut waves him off with a good-natured smile.

“Simply an observation,” he replies easily, turning to Cassian. “It’s been taking you longer to get to breakfast every morning. I can only assume that your leg is bothering you.”

Cassian sighs, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands. “I appreciate the concern, but my leg is fine.”

“I am not mistaken often, captain. The Force shows me what I need to see.”

“Can the Force tell me where to find a good cup of caf?” Jyn slides onto the bench next to him. He winces slightly when she jostles his leg, but doesn’t think she notices. “I didn’t think it was possible, but the caf here is even shittier than on Yavin.”

Chirrut raises his cup to hers in a grim salute. “Unfortunately, the Force is silent on the issues that matter most.”

“It’s better than what they gave us when I was with the Empire,” Bodhi shrugs, looking down at the caf in his cup. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

Jyn wrinkles her nose in disagreement. “I’ve had caf in prison that was better than this bantha shit.”

“They gave you caf in prison?”

“Once or twice in one of the labor camps,” she replies, seemingly unaffected with how Bodhi blanches at the offhand way she mentions her past. “They figured we’d work harder if we were more awake. We stopped getting it when someone died, though.” She takes a sip of her caf and grimaces. “Shame, really.”

“Right,” Bodhi says with a nod, draining the rest of his cup. “I think we should, uh, change the subject?”

Jyn snorts at that, but doesn’t say anything else about the time she spent in prison. Cassian, while wanting to know more about her past, doesn’t press it.

“Back to your leg then, captain,” Chirrut says, pointing a finger in his direction.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Jyn asks, trying to peek underneath the table.

“Nothing,” he says through gritted teeth, shooting a glare at Chirrut. The blind man only grins. Cassian turns back to Jyn. “It’s fine. Just a little sore, is all.”

“All right,” she says. “I believe you.”

He doubts that very much.

She drains her cup, then stands up at the table. When he doesn’t follow her, she makes an irritated gesture with her hand. “After all, if your leg was hurting you, then you wouldn’t have agreed to spar with me last night.”

“I didn’t -- “

Jyn hauls him up from the table and begins to pull him out of the mess. Cassian shoots the rest of the table an incredulous look -- why are they going along with this? -- but Baze only grins. “Have fun sparring.”

When they’re in the hallway and out of earshot, he spins on her. “Jyn, I can’t spar with you right now. Draven wanted to see me right after breakfast!”

“You’re a kriffing idiot,” is what she responds with instead, standing on her tiptoes to poke him in the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your leg is bothering you?”

“I’m fine,” he stresses. “My leg is fine.”

“Don’t even try,” she shoots back, wagging her finger in his face. “I noticed the limping, but I assumed you would say something if it got bad. Stars, Cass! We all have aches and pains. This cold is hell on my hip. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Your hip is bothering you?” Cassian asks, reaching for her. She bats him away with a scowl, grabbing his arm again and tugging him down the hallway.

“That’s not the point,” she hisses. They’re in front of their room, he realizes. Jyn punches the code for the door with so much force he thinks she’s going to poke right through i. Once they’re in the door, she’s pushing him back on the bed.  

“Jyn, I don’t really think now is a good time. I mean, not that I don’t -- “

“Oh, shut it,” she grouches, sitting down next to him. “Put your leg on my lap.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so he does it, albeit with a little confusion. He’s about to ask what the hell she’s doing when she digs her thumbs into a knot on his thigh and then he understands.

Her hands are magic, he thinks as she works out every bit of tension and gets the blood flowing again. His leg hasn’t felt this good in weeks, and there’s times where he almost has to shove his fist in his mouth to stop from moaning.

It’s over all too soon and he thinks his disappointment shows on his face when she laughs, patting his knee. “Don’t want to keep Draven waiting, do you? ”

Cassian groans, but gets up anyway. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Spent some time in the medbay when I was with Saw,” she says. “After eight years of doing that occasionally, I learned a couple of things.”

He moves to leave -- he really does need to get to that meeting -- but she stops him. “You’ll tell me when it starts hurting again?”

“Only if you say something when your hip starts to ache.”

“I didn’t fall from a tower and break nearly every bone in my leg” she points out, following him out the door. She pokes him in the chest. “You’ll meet me to spar after you talk to Draven, then?”

He raises his eyebrows, but lets her change the subject. “I thought that sparring was your cover?”

“It was,” Jyn shrugs, rolling her shoulders. “But I’m tired of beating people without a fight and since I helped you, you owe me.”

“I could use the practice,” he replies, once they’re standing at the entrance to the training room, “though you won’t be so cocky once I win.”

She scoffs at that, and he leaves feeling lighter than he has in days.

(He doesn’t win. She beats him two out of three and his body is aching but his leg doesn’t feel as stiff anymore. When Jyn pins him in their last fight, he lets her parade around the gym, basking in her victory. It’s too hard for him to fight a grin at that -- when she’s happy, he is too.)

ii.

Cassian wakes with a strangled gasp. His heart is racing and he squeezes his eyes together tightly, as if trying to shake himself of his dream by sheer force of will alone.

All his life he’s been troubled with nightmares -- the silent kind that seem to sneak up on him every week or so, that startle him into awakeness and leave him struggling to breathe. They’re nothing like Jyn’s, which leave her hoarse from shouting, lashing out with her fists in attempt to fight what’s plaguing her dreams. Instead, it seems like he’s forced to suffer silently.

Sighing, he begins to untangle himself from Jyn, who had moved to pillow her head on his chest earlier in the night. There’s no chance for sleep, not anymore.

He’s six years old and he’s on Fest and there’s a riot in the streets and he’s separated from his family. The crowd surges around him and he stumbles forward, not strong enough to fight against the wave of people struggling to escape.

“Mami!” he calls out desperately, small voice choked with tears. A bomb goes off somewhere, and there’s screaming all around him and crying and he knows that no one will be able to hear him with all this noise but he still shouts anyway. “Papi!”

“Cass?” Jyn mumbles, half-awake and groping at the where he had been laying earlier. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, cariña,” he whispers, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. She hums in contentment, reaching up toward him. He doesn’t even try to hide his smile, even though he knows she can’t see it. “It’s nothing.”

“I’m cold without you,” she says, slightly more coherent and tugs him back onto the bed. He lets her. It’s only when he’s wrapped up in her arms again that she asks sleepily, “Can’t sleep?”

He’s ten years old and when he manages to sneak up behind his training instructor without being heard, the captain laughs and tells him he might be a good fit in Intelligence one day.

He basks in the praise, unused to compliments.

Her thumb strokes his cheekbone and Cassian lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “No.”

“Nightmares?” she asks softly, all too understanding. His heart clenches -- someone like him doesn’t deserve someone like her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I -- no. I can’t,” he manages, clenching his hands to try and stop the shaking. “I’m sorry, I wish -- “

It’s as if Jyn can sense his panic. She pulls him tighter to her, letting him bury his head in her shoulder. Her fingers comb through his hair, stroking it gently. “It’s all right, Cassian. You don’t have to.”

He’s eighteen years old, recently enlisted, and he’s laying on his stomach with a sniper rifle in his shaking hands. It’s hard to make out his target with his scope bouncing with each breath he takes, but he tries to remember his training in order to do this right.

A breath in, a breath out. He pulls the trigger, watches what used to be the man’s head explode in bloody pieces, watches the body fall.

He swallows his sickness and tries not to think of the man’s family, if he had one.

Cassian stays silent in her embrace for a little longer, focusing on the feeling of being in her arms and the sound of her quiet breathing next to him. It takes effort before he’s able to speak, and when he does, it’s a tangled mess of words.

“I don’t deserve this -- not after everything I’ve done -- and to be here, with you -- I don’t deserve you -- “

He struggles to pull out of her grip. Jyn lets him, propping herself up on one elbow as he sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -- just go back to sleep. I’m fine -- “

He’s twenty-one and there’s a civilian at his feet because his shot went too wide, and there’s a riot now, people running and screaming to get away from him.

He’s twenty-three and he sees a woman crying for help, cradling a child in her arms, and he wishes that he could go to her, wishes that he could somehow help, but the mission comes first, the Rebellion always comes first --

“Cassian,” she says, so clear that it cuts right through his thoughts. “You deserve this.”

It’s said so simply, so matter-of-fact, that there’s no question that Jyn believes what she’s saying.

He has no idea why.

“I’m not a good man, Jyn. The things I’ve done. . .” he trails off, unable to say it, unable let her see this side of him. If she knew, she would leave without looking back. And he’s selfish, he knows, to keep it from her, but he can’t bear to lose her because of his past.

She’s silent after that and Cassian is beginning to think that she slipped out without him hearing when she wraps an arm around his shoulders and sits next to him on the edge of the bed. Where his feet touch the cold tile floor, hers dangle.

“No,” she replies. “You’re not a good man. But I’m not good either. Hell, I was a criminal before coming here. But,” she gives his shoulder a tight squeeze, and this time, he doesn’t try to break away from her grasp, “we’re trying. Both of us may not be good people, but we’re trying to be better. And that’s all that really matters. That we’re trying.”

He’s twenty-six and he’s falling from the archive tower from a blaster bolt to the shoulder, leaving Jyn stranded up by herself, forcing her to finish the mission alone.

He thinks he hears his name before he blacks out.

When Jyn speaks again, it’s so quiet that he can barely make out what she’s saying. “I was fourteen. Saw decided it was time I lead my own op. There was this group of ‘troopers causing trouble, harassing everyone more than necessary. We were supposed to wait until dark and blow ‘em up.”

Her grip around him tightens. Cassian reaches over to grab her free hand. “I miscalculated. We planted the explosives too close to the slums and. . .well, we managed to get all of the stormtroopers. . .and a bunch of civilians too. I’d killed before, but never civilians . . .”

“Jyn -- “

“And when we got back to base, I was so scared of what Saw was going to do to me. I had messed it all up. But he didn’t do anything,” she laughs, but it’s not funny and her voice cracks. He flinches, hating the way it sounds. “He didn’t do anything except clap me on the back and tell me that I did a good job. A good job, Cassian!”

This time, it’s his turn to comfort her. He pulls her shaking form to his chest, running his fingers through her hair. He struggles for the right words to comfort her. “Jyn, it wasn’t. . .”

“It absolutely was my fault,” she snaps, her voice muffled from being pressed against his shoulder. She sounds sadder when she speaks again. “But that’s my point. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, Cass.”

“I just. . .sometimes I wish that the Rebellion hadn’t found me.” That I had died with the rest of my family back on Fest.

“I know,” she murmurs, reaching up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “I know. Come back to bed with me?”

She’s leaving him a way out if he wants it and he knows she won’t judge him if he takes it.

But he doesn’t, instead deciding to curl up next to her and letting her soothe him back into sleep.

iii.

“What are you looking at?”

They’re in the middle of a marketplace, trying to blend in while looking for Cassian’s contact. Most of the things he’s picked up earlier were just for show, but the jar of spices in his hand now is very tempting.

He thinks they’re from Fest -- at least, that’s what the shopkeeper had said. Even if they’re not, the smell of them brings back memories from home. His mother in the kitchen cooking, his father wrapping his arms around her waist, all of them sitting around the table enjoying a fresh-cooked meal together. He only remembers a couple moments, but when he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, he thinks he can see his mother’s smile and hear his father’s laugh.

It’s a shame they’re not here for shopping.

“Just some spices,” he says easily, setting them back down on the table and ignoring the way his heart clenches when he turns away. The mission comes first.

Jyn gives him a dubious look, standing on her tiptoes to get a look at what the vendor is selling, but he places his hand at the small of her back and guides her away.

The Rebellion comes first.

The rest of the mission happens without any issues, just like he expected. He loses Jyn briefly when he meets up with his contact, but she finds him a couple of minutes later without any stormtroopers trailing her. Besides her coat looking bulky, she looks unscathed -- probably just stole someone else’s blaster for a change. He takes that as a sign that she didn’t get into any trouble behind his back.

What he doesn’t expect is the blaster that’s supposedly in Jyn’s jacket turns out to be an enormous number of spice jars that he really isn’t sure how she managed to carry all the way back to the ship.

“I didn’t know which one you wanted,” she says when he doesn’t respond, instead deciding to gape at her like a fish out of water. “So I got them all. Hope that’s okay.”

“Jyn, I. . .” he picks up the jar he had looked at in the marketplace and unscrews the cap. The smells of spices filling the cockpit reminds him of home and he closes his eyes, just for a second, breathing it in. “Thank you. How did you. . .?”

“I didn’t steal them!” She says defensively, crossing her arms. “Well -- not all of them. But I did use up all of our credits the Alliance gave us.”

When he sets the jar back down on the floor, lid screwed on tightly, he’s grinning so hard his face might split in half. He pulls Jyn into a hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she mutters, pushing him away. Her face is slowly turning red. “You just looked so sad in the marketplace, so I thought you might like them.”

“They’re from Fest,” he admits, and her eyes go round with understanding. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been reminded of home.”

She nods at that. “Since I bought them, I think I deserve a nice home-cooked meal then, don’t you?”

“As I recall,” he remarks drily, “you said you didn’t buy all of them. But -- “ he holds up a finger when she opens her mouth to argue, “I think something can be arranged.”

iv.

Cassian wakes up with a pounding headache and chattering teeth despite the amount of blankets (and Jyn) that should be keeping him warm. It’s early, too early for him to be getting up, so he pulls the blankets back over his head with a muffled groan and sinks back into sleep.

An alarm goes off a couple hours later, he thinks, though he’s not quite sure. The beeping only intensifies the ache in his head and while he knows that he should get up to turn it off, he decides to instead put his pillow over his head for some blessed relief.

Jyn wakes up a couple seconds later, alarm still blaring into the otherwise silent room. She doesn’t notice anything off -- usually, she’s the first one up and out of bed, ready to go while he’s still half-asleep. She gets out of bed quickly, slamming her fist on the alarm. The silence eases the tension a bit, but it’s still a struggle to move.

Too bad the Empire never sleeps. Because of that, the Rebellion doesn’t either.

He rolls out of bed with a groan, only barely managing to stand up on his on. He stays there for a moment, eyes shut tight to try and stop the dizziness.

“Cassian? Force, you look terrible.”

Jyn’s at his side in an instant, pushing him back on the bed. When she presses her cold hand to his forehead he sighs in relief. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m fine, Jyn,” he rasps, struggling weakly to stand back up. “It’s just hot in here.”

“Don’t try that with me,” she responds, sounding cross. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. I have to fly out later tonight.”

“Like hell you are,” she scoffs, pulling on her boots. She hides a yawn behind the back of her hand and he almost asks her to come lay down next to him. “I’ll tell them to give you a couple extra days. Stay here and rest. I’ll bring you some food once I’m done training.”

She pauses at the door. “You’ll be okay by yourself, right? I don’t know what Bodhi’s schedule is today, but I could ask him to stay with you if you wanted.”

“I’m not that sick,” he mutters. Besides the headache and the chills and the fever, anyway. “I’m fine.”

“Right. Well. Don’t move. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As soon as she’s out the door, he’s up and moving. It’s a lot harder to get dressed when you can barely think straight, he realizes, after putting his boots on the wrong feet twice, but when he leaves the room a couple minutes later, he thinks he looks at least somewhat put together.

The lights in the hallway seem brighter than usual. He has to squint to see, which is why he doesn’t notice Jyn leaning up against the wall across from their room until he refocuses himself. (Or maybe it’s because he’s sicker than he originally thought.)

“Really, Cass?” She grabs his arm and tows him back into the bedroom. “Get some kriffing rest. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

He tries to resist, though he doesn’t remember much before falling back asleep. He thinks he hears Jyn laughing as she takes off his boots (it feels better once they’re off, for some reason) but that’s it. When she kisses his forehead, he’s completely out of it.

When he wakes up later in the day, he still feels like shit but considerably better than before. He’s not as cold and the pounding in his head as dulled to an ache. Jyn’s sitting next to him, a datapad propped up on her knees.

“I thought you had training.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she replies drily, setting her datapad onto the bed next to her. “You feeling any better? Apparently there’s something going around base.”

“Not really,” he admits, trying to sit up. “Better that now you’re here, though.”

“Yeah, well. I told Draven you’re not feeling well, then decided to skip training to make sure you didn’t make another escape attempt.”

“And that’s the only reason you came back?”

There’s a sign before she leans her head up against his shoulder. “I might have been a bit worried about you.”

“Jyn Erso, ignoring orders just because I’m sick?” he teases. “You must really like me.”

“Go back to sleep, Cassian,” she says, sounding annoyed, but he knows she doesn’t mean it.

Maybe he can take a day or two off after all.

v.

Cassian’s holed up in their room when Jyn finds him, huddled over something he’s been working on for weeks. It’s cold enough in their room that his fingers are starting to stiffen up and it’s becoming harder and harder to go without wearing gloves.

He’s swearing quite colorfully when she walks in, not noticing her until she’s peering over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing!“ He answers quickly, shoving his project into the pocket of his parka and turning around to face her despite his surprise. There’s an amused look on her face that makes him think she doesn’t believe him. “It’s nothing. Just working on something. I, uh, thought you and Solo wouldn’t be back until tomorrow?”

“We finished up early,” she says with a shrug, taking a seat on the edge of their bed. “Solo wanted to see Leia. Force, I’ve missed sleeping on something comfortable.”

“Is that all?” He teases, watching her sprawl out on their bed with an exaggerated moan.

“I mean, I guess I wanted to see you,” she mumbles. And as if she knew that her comment would cause him to smirk, she props herself up on her elbows to shoot him a look. “Don’t let it get to your head, Andor.”

“Me? Never,” he promises with a roguish grin, placing his elbows on his knees to support his head. “I’m flattered that you’d make Solo hurry up so you could come and see me.”

Jyn groans, letting her head fall back on the bed. “You’re horrible. I shouldn’t have said anything!”

Cassian only laughs at that, knowing that she doesn’t mean it in the slightest. When she finally rolls herself off the bed, he looks her over, noticing the grime that’s covering her. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” she assures him, stretching her arms over her head until her back pops. “A couple of bruises. Nothing a hot shower can’t fix.”

“Don’t use up all the hot water,” he responds, knowing that she’ll stay in that shower until it goes cold. He doesn’t mind, not really, since he knows she could probably count on one hand the number of hot showers she’d taken before she’d come to the Rebellion, but there’s nothing worse than taking a freezing shower on a cold planet.

Throwing her jacket (his, actually, before she commandeered it) onto a chair, she smirks. “I won’t if you tell me what you’re working on when I came in.”

“Just some repairs on one of Kay’s hands.” The words spill out too quick for him to be telling the truth.

“But you’ve never hidden it from me before,” she tilts her head to the side, furrowing her brows. “I’m don’t believe you, captain.”

“Fine,” he says in mock-exasperation, throwing up his hands with a laugh. “It’s a gift. For you.”

Jyn freezes. In a blink of an eye, he can see her shut down in front of him, her face becoming a blank mask. His eyebrows furrow; this is not the kind of response he had been expecting.

“Oh.” Her words are monotone and she stiffly picks up her jacket from the chair she had just flung it on. At his look of confusion, she elaborates. “When are you leaving?”

“What do you mean, ‘when am I leaving?’” He stands up, trying to meet her eyes. She won’t look at him. “Jyn, it’s a gift.”

“I know what a gift means, Cassian,” she snaps, turning away from him. “When are you going? Tonight? Trying to make me feel better when you don’t come back?”

“I’m not leaving, Jyn,” he says firmly, reaching out to grab her arm and turn her back toward him. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would you even think that?”

She reaches up to the hollow of her throat where he knows her necklace used to be, then drops her hand. “People have done it before,” she mutters. “Give me things, then leave.”

“You’ve never -- “

“After all,” she crosses her arms across her chest, shrinking away from him ever so slightly, “Saw gave me a blaster and pack of rations, then left me in a bunker and never came back.”

While a blaster and rations wouldn’t normally be considered a gift, he understands where she’s coming from. “Jyn, look at me.” When she does, he continues, “I’m making you something because I want to. Not because I’m going to leave. Go take a shower, okay?” He brushes some hair off of her forehead and smiles down at her. “I’m almost finished. Give me a couple more minutes.”

“All right,” she says, setting the jacket back down on the chair. Her actions are a little more wary now. At the door to the ‘fresher, she hesitates, then asks, “You’re going to be here when I get out of the shower?”

“I’m not leaving you. I promise,” he replies firmly, waiting until she closes the door to turn back to his worktable. When she’s gone, he runs his hand through his hair with a sigh. It’s not the first time that he wishes that she had never been dragged into any of this, and it won’t be the last.

He pulls her gift out of his pocket when he hears the shower turn on. It’s a necklace, very similar to the one that she’d lost on Scarif. While he knew it was important to her, he didn’t know why, but he had decided to do something when he noticed that it was gone.

Kyber crystals had been hard to come by even before the Empire started buying them up to power the Death Star, so he hadn’t been able to find a replacement. Instead, he had picked out a stone and had it carved in a similar shape. It doesn’t look anything like the necklace she had before, but the stone is a pretty green that reminds him on her eyes.

He hopes she likes it, despite the differences.

Threading the cord through the stone is proving harder than he originally thought, especially with the cold. He manages it when she pokes her head out of the ‘fresher, dressed in one of his shirts and toweling off her hair. “Are you finished?”

“Just about,” he says, then hides the necklace behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

She does so immediately, and for a moment, he’s floored by her trust. Jyn Erso doesn’t let people in easily, he knows, and Force -- he’s so thankful he’s able to see this side of her. “I’m coming up behind you,” he murmurs so she doesn’t spook, and loops the necklace around her neck. She flinches slightly, but doesn’t open her eyes until he’s standing in front of her.

“It’s a necklace,” he explains when she’s looking down at it, holding it in her hands. “I knew the one you had before Scarif was important to you and I tried to find another kyber crystal but I couldn’t, so I hope this is okay.” He’s rambling now and he knows it, but she’s still not saying anything. “If you don’t like it, that’s -- “

There’s tears in her eyes when she grabs him into a fierce hug. It startles him, and for a second, he just stands there before wrapping his arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I love it.”

When she pulls away, she’s gripping her necklace in a clenched fist. It takes her a second to get the words out. “The one I had earlier -- my mother gave it to me. Before she was killed.”

“Jyn, I didn’t know -- “

She cuts him off. “It was all I had left of her. And then Scarif took that from me too. But now you’ve given me this and. . .it’s special too.”

If his eyes tear up, just a little bit, she doesn’t mention it. “I’m glad you like it,” he manages.

“Yeah,” she says softly, looking down at stone, then back up at him. Her eyes seem brighter now that she has it on. “Yeah. I like it a lot.”

Days pass, weeks go by, and soon it’s a month later, but Cassian notes, with a hint of pride, that she hasn’t taken it off since he gave it to her.

i.

They’re curled up in bed like they are most nights, with Cassian propping a datapad on his stomach and Jyn reading it over his shoulder. It’s quickly become a routine, spending most of their evenings next to each other to stay warm. The mission briefing could easily be read sitting at a desk, but both of them prefer to do it this way.

If she had to put a name to their relationship, she wouldn't be able to. If they’re dating or lovers or simply just dependent on each other. Despite that, she doesn’t mind what other people call it -- whatever it is, it works.

After all, there’s no one else in the galaxy that she trusts more than him, and after spending majority of her life by herself, it's nice having someone there to watch her back for her.

“Well,” he says finally. “This sounds like another routine trip.”

“Mhmm,” she agrees. In truth, she had stopped reading the datapad about twenty minutes ago, happier just to lie next to him. “It’s no fun when we don’t get to fight anyone.”

“Only you,” he mutters, rubbing her back gently, “would find fun in fighting.”

“Please. I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“Baze, too,” he says, with humor in his eyes. “That’s why you two get on so well.”

That’s exactly why they’re so close. One of the reasons, anyway.

It’s one of the reasons her and Cassian work so well together too. She starts trouble and he bails her out of it. Or he talks his way into a mess and she fights their way out of it. It’s one of the best partnerships she’s ever had -- and for some reason, as Cassian goes over the briefing once more before bed, she feels like she should tell him that.

And maybe something else too. Something that she’s never said to him before, but she’s never needed to.

Well. There's no time like the present.

“Cassian. I need to tell you something.” She fingers the necklace he gave her absently. Just like her mother's crystal, it gives her strength too. 

“Hmm?”

Jyn considers lying for a second, backing out and cracking a joke instead. It would be a lot easier than admitting her feelings for him -- something that’s never been easy for her.

But he trusts her and she trusts him, so she owes him this.

“I like you,” she says quickly, as if to get it over with. That gets his attention. “Quite a bit. More than anyone else.”

He chuckles, setting down the datapad on the table near the bed and pulls her closer to him. “I would hope so,” he murmurs into her hair. “Or else this would be a little awkward.”

“I’m serious,” she laughs, pushing him away so she can look him in the eyes.

“I like you quite a bit too,” he teases back. But when he looks at her face, he sobers up. “What’s wrong?”

She pauses for a second, searching his face. “I think I might, uh -- you know, be in love with you.”

A pause. “You are?”

“Yeah,” she exhales shakily. “Yeah, I’m sure.” And now that she’s said it, she’s confident about it.

Jyn’s in love with him.

“I -- “ he takes a breath. “I’m in love with you too. I think.”

“Good,” she replies. “That’s -- good.”

Then she leans forward to capture his lips with her own. Her kiss doesn’t have the heat it usually does; it’s gentle and loving and Force, she hadn’t known she had needed something like this until now.

It almost seems unfair to ask him this, but she needs to hear it. Everyone she’s loved has left her in the past -- her mother, her father, Saw -- so it’s something she has to do. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“Never, cariña,” he says. She's almost overcome by the passion in his eyes, and that alone is enough to convince her. “I will never leave you. Not by choice.”

“Good,” she whispers. Even though she already knew the answer to that, it’s reassuring to hear it spoken out loud. At the very least, it’s a weight off her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere either. My place is with you.” It's something that he needs to hear as well.

“I know,” he replies softly, caressing her face with his hand. She leans into his touch.

And in this moment, Jyn realizes that it's been a long time since she's finally felt at home.