#not a lot of extra tags today folks i got everything i needed to say out into the post :]

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmm danny with sensory issues both in and out of his ghost forms, but on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Ghosts can't experience sensations the same way humans can when they're in the mortal realm. They're naturally intangible, and it takes energy to be physical. When they're physical, all touch feels the same barring the texture. They feel no heat, no chill. Sunlight passes through them, and so does wind and rain.

You know when your foot falls asleep/goes completely numb, and you go to touch it with your hand and it causes a strange jumble of sensations? You can feel the skin there, your palm is pressing against an object and there's resistance, pressure, but you can't feel the heat? It's kinda something like that. Like he's feeling everything through a set of gloves.

As a ghost, when it rains, he can feel the raindrops hitting him, and he can feel his hair getting wet, but he can't feel the chill of the water and he can't feel the wetness. His suit is soaked but there's no weight like there should be. During the winter snowflakes don't melt when they land on him, and he can't feel the chill of the snow when he gets buried under it.

Sunlight passes through him, a nice breeze ruffles his hair but there's no relief in the sensation. All pressure, no sensation. It's like a strange form of sensory deprivation. And of course, the internal things. It's even worse when he's intangible, when he's not putting energy into being physical. He doesn't feel real.

As human, things become too much. Especially when he's been a ghost for hours. He can feel the weight of his ribs pressing against his ribs, he becomes hyperaware of the expanding of his lungs when he breathes, the feeling of his heart pulsing in his chest.

He curls his fingers in and out slowly and becomes fascinated by the feeling of the joints moving. He turns and grabs Tucker's hand, and soaks in the warmth of his body heat -- he can't feel it as a ghost. He runs his fingers through his hair, and he can feel the individual strands.

There's a weight when he walks. A small drag when he bends his knee and lifts his leg and takes a step, and when he's been a ghost for too long he stumbles over himself, drags his feet along the floor and stomps when he doesn't mean to because he forgot to weigh his steps. Sometimes when it rains he goes out and sits on the front steps of the house just so he can come back in shivering and soaked through to the bone. Runs his fingers obsessively over the goosebumps up along his arms and legs because he can't get them as a ghost even if he's cold.

Because there are certain things, even when he's in the ghost zone, that are exclusive to the living. The little internal things you don't notice and take for granted. Things like breathing and goosebumps and exhaustion exclusive to running that makes your heart pound against your ribcage and your chest hurt with the need for air. Sore muscles from working out and sweating. Thirst and dry mouths, chapped lips and hands, blinking and dry eye, the feeling of the sun soaking into your skin on a nice summer's day.

As a ghost, Danny faces sensory issues in the form of not enough. When he can't feel the hair behind his ears or the weight in his limbs where there should be muscle, tissue, and bone. He can't feel the sun or the wind, everything is in a permeable state of 'just fine', and its maddening. He can breathe if he wants, but there's no point to it. He has no lungs, he can't feel them expand, and there's no relief behind it. He's going through the motions without any of the reward.

On those days, the idea of going ghost again makes him feel ill. Paranoid. He can't stand the thought. He needs to feel. He needs to feel the soft texture of the rug beneath his feet and the grooves in his knuckles, he needs to feel dirt crumble beneath his fingers and get stuck under his nails, he needs to feel the heat of his sister's hand and the feeling of body warmth passing from her to him. He lays on the carpet room and stretches out, and focuses on the feeling of his heart beating and the weight of his bones and muscles and tissue pinning him to the floor.

As a human, Danny faces sensory issues of too much. When all the things he's starving for suddenly make him sick. He feels trapped in his own skin. His ribs become a cage and breathing becomes a dumbbell that he can't put down. He can feel the hair along his arms and it rashes him. He's too cold, he's too hot. He feels like a ghost puppeteering its own corpse and he needs out.

On those days, Danny dips away when he can and goes ghost, and Sam and Tucker don't see him for the rest of the day. He's gone invisible, intangible, and he does nothing but exist.

Just, him experiencing sensory issues as both ghost and human, but in opposite directions from each other. And the idea that ghosts experience the mortal realm differently, and that there are certain things that are just exclusive sensations for the living that Danny doesn't realize until he's a halfa.

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday - To the Shore Redux

hey folks, been working on revising my fic. going back and re-reading what i wrote 7 months later, i realized that i was very dissatisfied with it. i sacrificed a lot of character and world building for pushing the plot, instead of just letting the story unfold. so, i'm revising it.

the first redux of it is up in the prologue, which ao3 won't let me change to call a prologue, so is technically Chapter 1. they're not hueg changes, more stylistic than anything, and grammar fixes. verb/noun agreements are my waterloo.

BUT! that will not be what today's snippet sunday. because, while i'm working on revising the beginning, i'm still churning away at the story. so, here's an upcoming sneak peek. unfortunately, this will be slower in coming since i got covid after the last convention, so things are going slower.

if you want or read my other stuff, it's over on ao3.

tagging the coemancers, and any other artists. love to see what you're working on!

sneaky peeky

“Now, this was Ervin’s favorite, Chicken Tikka,” he said as he ladled a spoonful for Hwa to taste. She nodded her head thoughtfully as he looked at her critically. “It’s missing something, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I’m Korean. I think everything should be spicier,” she answered.

Barrett laughed, “Never truer words were spoken! But, how does Sam deal with the heat?”

“He doesn’t. He likes bland food,” she answered, “I’ve been trying to get him used to it. But, it’s not going all that well.”

“You can’t change a man at that age. Gotta get ‘em when they’re younger,” Barrett replied as they were leaving the Lodge. “I should know. I tried for years to get Ervin to eat spicy foods. That chicken tikka was as close as I could get.”

“It was still good, though!” Hwa said hastily, “it just needed something extra.”

“Yeah, that extra is heat. Oh well. Old habits die hard, you know,” Barrett replied. “I don’t have to cook for Ervin’s tastes anymore. I can cook for myself,” he said. “I forget that sometimes,” he finished sadly.

Hwa touched his arm, “I like spicy food,” she said softly, a little shocked at her own boldness.

Barrett smiled and patted her hand, “You’ll be my partner in crime, then. Here’s to all of the capsaicin!”

She looked down at his hand over hers, and for the first time in her life, her usual violent reaction when anyone that wasn’t Sam or Cora touched her didn’t surface. She looked up and smiled at Barrett, “Capsaicin!” she shouted, a little flummoxed and not sure what to say.

Barrett laughed, “Capsaicin!” he shouted in return, and the two kept shouting “capsaicin” randomly as they made their way to the Solar Flare.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

i’d like to request 13 + h with nix please? i really love this idea - can’t wait to see what you do with it 💕

Oh man this is where the shuffle gets tough but the challenge is so fun!! I love this combo! Thanks for the request <3

Nixon wasn’t sure how he felt about this thing. Sure, he was excited to see the guys but part of him was nervous too. His life had been a bit of a wreck since returning from war. He had gotten divorced from Kathy, and then again from a woman he thought he had been in love with. But it hadn’t been love. She had been a beautiful distraction in the middle of a war torn world. Not for the first time in life Nixon felt directionless. He had no idea what he wanted anymore. The majority of his relationships, his job, his home, felt like a farce; a cosmic mockery of who he was and who might’ve been.

The reception hall felt sterile. The tiled floors had been power washed, Nixon could still smell the chemical cleaner. He followed the hall down to a door where laughter erupted on a continuous loop. If it hadn’t been for Dick, Nixon wasn’t sure he would be there right now. He didn’t feel like the Captain the men knew him as.

Just inside the wide room was a table with a stretch of name tags and pins. What was the point of these? He knew everyone, it seemed a bit silly to have name tags. Still, he scanned the table looking for his name, grateful to put off greeting people for a few minutes longer. He was having trouble finding his own name tag when a different one caught his eye: Eleanor Priestly. No, Nixon thought, she was coming? He hadn’t even considered the possibility.

Once upon a time Elle had known everything about him. She had been the kindest, bravest nurse he had ever known. The two of them had been as thick as thieves during the war but since it ended, they failed to stay in touch.

Nixon lingered, looking at the name written in beautiful black calligraphy when suddenly long, thin fingers stretched out to pluck the name tag from the table.

Nixon looked up in delighted surprise to greet the owner of the hand, “hey! Fancy seeing you here.”

“And you,” perfectly painted red lips grinned back at him, “it’s been a year!”

“Literally,” he smiled. Then as an after thought he stretched out his arms. Awkwardly, the woman stepped into them for a hug. Nixon noticed her hair smelt like lavender. It had never smelled that way before. But to be fair, they had been in the middle of a war.

“You look good,” he said. He let his eyes run appreciatively over her. She wore her nurses uniform, but it fit more snuggly than it had during the war, Nixon noticed. The buttons of the jacket stretched over her full chest. How had he never noticed how good looking she was before?

She blushed at his gaze, “thanks, so do you.”

“Reliable plumbing and actual food helps a lot,” Nixon joked dryly.

She laughed, “it really does.”

A moment of silence fell between them as they took each other in. Eleanor cleared her throat, “well, we should catch up at some point. I’m over there,” she stretched to point to a table where Babe Heffron sat with Popeye Wynn. “Come find me later?” she asked with a familiar twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah,” Nixon nodded, “I’ll do that!”

Nixon found his seat at a table beside Dick Winters and Harry Welsh. He saw Dick fairly regularly so it was good to catch up with Harry and the other men. But he kept getting distracted by Eleanor’s presence at the neighbouring table. He couldn’t help but smile every time he heard her familiar laugh. It was loud and had a lilt to it and filled an empty space in Nixon’s chest he didn’t realize needed filling. The sound of it transported him back to the many occasions they bundled up together for warmth in dank, empty buildings and to the sunnier days in Bavaria spent lounging on Adirondack chairs.

He wondered why they ever fell out of touch. How could he have ever stopped talking to a creature as lovely as her, he thought as he watched her throw her head back in laughter. Then he remembered, it was because of the bombshell. The beautiful, English blonde that, as the time, he was determined to make his.

At the time he thought he was in love with her. At the time, the bombshell was all he wanted. At the time, Eleanor was nothing more than a friend. How could he have been so blind?

That night Nixon went back to his hotel room with the vision of Eleanor burned into his mind. They had had the chance to catch up but their time talking had been insufficient. He wanted to know more, he wanted to spend more time with her. She had promised to stay in touch but what did that really mean between old friends?

Maybe a year ago they could have stayed close. But after a year without talking what friendship was even there? They had picked back up so easily in person but with distance, who was to say what would happen.

Nixon stayed in town a few extra days to spend time with some of the other men. He had granted himself and Dick a long weekend for the trip and there was no rush to get back to New Jersey.

It was a hot afternoon when Nixon stepped into the drug store to buy a cup of coffee from the lunch counter.

“Lewis?” He turned to sound of Eleanor’s voice. She smiled up at him with those rose red lips and bright eyes.

“Oh hi!” He said, a grin involuntarily spreading across his face.

“Still in town I see?” She asked.

“Yeah, for a couple more days,” he said, “thank you,” he took the coffee from the lunch attendant and put a dollar and coins down on the aluminium counter. “Why are you still here?” He asked.

She giggled, “I live here remember?”

“Oh,” Nixon mentally kicked himself, “right. Sorry, I forgot, I knew that.”

Eleanor waved her hand to indicate it was no big deal, “it’s only temporary. Just staying with my folks until I figure out my next move.”

“Right, right. On the job hunt,” Nixon took a sip of his coffee.

“Correct,” Eleanor smiled then looked over her shoulder at the growing line at the pharmacy window. “Well hey, it was good to see you but I’ve got to hop in line. Picking up some things for my parents.”

“Oh sure,” Nixon nodded but disappointment rushed through him. A thousand incomprehensible thoughts ran through his mind; this was his second shot, his chance to spend more time with her. Who knows when he would see her next.

“Wait, do you mind if- mind if I wait with you? We could, I don’t know, catch up a little bit more, maybe grab a coffee afterwards,” he shrugged.

She glanced down at the fresh coffee in his hand and Nixon winced at his own stupidity. She narrowed her eyes playfully, “you haven’t eaten anything today have you?”

“Uhh..”

“Because,” she smiled knowingly, “you just woke up, huh?”

Even after a year of radio silence she still knew him too well.

“Yeah, wait with me and we can grab some lunch afterwards,” she gestured him over to the line. “If it goes well I’ll even let you take me out for dinner.”

Nixon grinned and took his place beside her.

[an-absolute-travesty]

Smokey Skies and Pretty Fires

Hecking FINALLY

This took like a whole ass month my dudes

There was no prompt, just some good ol self indulgent marelinh :) (that started as a joke but-)

About: Marella x Linh, vigilante arsonist/fire fighter au

Word count: ~4,250

Tag list: @cadence-talle @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn @vibing-in-the-void-deactivated2 @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42​ @rainbowtay-11 @callas-starkflower-stew @impostertamsong @appalyneinstitute1 @stars-and-splendor @anna-without-an-e @mistythegirlfluxmess @we-have-no-bananas-today @we-wont-dissapear 

Warnings: corrupt governments, fire, swearing

Linh bent down, examining the ash that covered the ground.

Some of the structure still remained, but very little of it. This was intentional, and the perp knew what they were doing.

The long string of arson incidents on government buildings was getting to be too much. At first, Linh didn't mind much. No one was ever hurt, the files inside were saved and released to the public, no fire ever spread to other buildings. But as a fire investigator and, due to her hydrokinesis, a firefighter it was getting kind of annoying. She had better things to do with her time.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey Song, come over here for a minute."

It was her boss. She, obviously, followed.

"Chief Zaldo."

They nodded.

"I have a special assignment for you. We've gotten word that the arsonist may be attacking the courthouse next. We need you to scope out the place and put out the fire."

"Not stop the fire?"

"No. These people, or this person, might be dangerous. Just put it out, don't engage. Try to catch their face."

Linh nodded. She...wasn't great at taking orders, but she could try.

"Do you know when this is happening?"

"Three days. We hope to get more details soon."

"Who's your source?"

"Confidential information. Now go back out there, the folks will get suspicious soon."

"They don't know?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Song,"

"I have the right. Are...are you sure something bad won't happen, Chief?"

Zaldo sighed.

"No. No, I'm not."

~*~

Linh sat in the parking lot of the building next to the courthouse in the most nondescript car she could obtain.

... That being her own. The higher ups didn't exactly give her department the most funds. That went straight to the police sector. She stared at the news on her phone as reports came in of a protest across town. If she wasn't stuck in a stuffy government provided position she'd be down there with them.

She looked out the window once again. So far there were no signs of the arsonists yet.

She sipped on her mostly milk coffee. This seemed like it was going to be a long night.

~*~

At nearly three a.m. Linh awoke to a warm glow outside her car.

Shit.

Her orders from the Chief Had been forgotten completely. Without hesitation, she sprung from her seat and looked around frantically for the culprit.

There. A small figure was running away from the blaze. Linh chased.

"Hey! Kid! Get back here!"

The figure kept running. She couldn't blame them. She would too.

Luckily she was significantly taller than the person and caught up quick. It was probably very ill-advised, but she tackled them to the ground.

So much for "do not engage."

In the light of the still raging fire she saw that the apparent arsonist was a girl. She was about Linh's age with blonde hair and pretty eyes and-

CHRIST! LINH, SHE'S A SERIAL ARSONIST, GET IT TOGETHER.

Linh shook off her brief moment of lesbian brain fog.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same." the blonde girl looked in her eyes with a challenge.

"Only one of us was just caught in the act. You're going to jail."

"Am I?"

In one swift movement the girl shifted so she was on top of the pin.

"Welp, I'm going to head out now. Good luck with that fire."

She got up. Linh was still frozen in place as she ran away.

She turned around mid run and paused.

"Oh, the name's Marella. Not Mare, not Ella, no nicknames. Make sure you tell the papers that."

With a wink she was gone.

~*~

Linh sat in the Chief's office, twiddling her thumbs until they got there.

She had put out the fire that night. In fact, a lot of the structure of the courthouse was saved. When she came into work the next day she was welcomed with a warm applause.

When they walked into the room, she stood respectfully. Before she could greet them, they started talking.

"Song, how'd it go? Did you get any info?"

"Um...no, no I didn't. They must've run the other way."

"Dammit. That's okay. The fire's out, that's what matters. The cops can do the rest."

"Yeah, I guess." Linh couldn't meet their eyes.

~*~

Marella looked over the morning paper with disappointment.

"What's up?" Sophie said as she peered over her shoulder.

"They didn't even mention the fire, I made it extra dramatic and everything."

"Oof, guess we have to try again."

"Ugh." Marella flicked her wrist and set the paper to flame, it turned to ash as it hit the floor, "I'm so tired of these assholes. Peaceful protests don't work, aggressive protests don't work. These council bitches are stubborn. Our requests are reasonable, but nooooooo. Can't even let us have a real say in who controls everything."

Sophie hummed noncommittally.

"Like I said, we have to try again. Fill the skies with smoke, they have to notice eventually. Just like Forkle always tells us. Oh, and it's your turn to empty the dishwasher today by the way, Biana said she would put them all in your bed if you forget again,"

Marella waved her off, returning to her black coffee.

~*~

The next day, Marella went through the same motions as usual. She had leaked where she would be lighting up again, the first time was a risk but if all their cops were like the last she'd be perfectly fine.

And if it was the same cop...more than perfectly fine.

As she hauled the boxes of files out of the city hall she noticed a particular car sitting in the parking lot.

Guess she would see her favorite officer today.

Soon after the blaze started building, the woman got out of her car. Marella didn't run away this time, rather walked towards her.

"Lovely night isn't it?'

"You again."

"The one and only." Marella turned to her blaze. "Strangely beautiful, don't you think?"

"Yeah... I mean no- I mean-" The woman sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

Marella shrugged. "Well, it's simple. Peaceful protests seem useless at the moment so we're taking a more hands-on approach."

"No, why are you doing this? Not this...group, if there is one, why are you risking your freedom for this?"

"What freedom?"

Marella walked to her car. As she drove away she saw a large wave come from the fire hydrant, putting out the building in one go.

~*~

As Linh walked into the office, Zaldo already sat at their desk.

"Song, did you find anything this time?"

"No, I didn't, I'm sorry."

They sighed, putting their face in their hands.

"Song, I'm giving you one more chance. You're clearly determined, and to me the stealth angle seems best. But if this fails? We're going to the police,"

"Yes, Chief."

With a nod they gave permission for her to leave. She stood in the hallway for a moment, knowing what she had to do next but not knowing if she had the courage to do it.

~*~

Linh stood at the house's front door. She had chased down arsonists and saved kids from blazing fires and yet this was still the scariest thing she'd ever done.

She rang the doorbell. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe she wouldn't have to do this.

The door opened.

In front of her stood the grown-up form of the teenage boy she had left Tam as. He still had his trademark silver bangs, apparently he hadn't cut his hair very much since they were kids. She had gotten rid of the silver long ago, dyed hair doesn't go over too well in the corporate world and her shoulder-length bob was much more practical than her long hair.

"Hello,"

"Long time no see," Tam's voice had an annoyed sound to it. "Came here to tell me 'Tam! You shouldn't mess around with that Black Swan stuff! They might be dangerous!' Again?"

Tam's impression of her voice was crude, unfortunately that was a direct quote from the last time they had talked right before their falling out. He always could hold a grudge.

"Well, um, actually, uhh... I mean sort of,"

Tam sighed.

"You know what? Whatever,"

He brought her into a tight hug.

"Come in, lecture me as much as you want, I'm not risking another 8 years without talking to the only family I have left,"

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," She said, crossing through the door and sitting on the couch.

"It's ok, you tried to make contact, I was being the asshole."

"I love you, asshole,"

"I love you more, dumbass. Now, go ahead and get your lecture started while I make us some coffee."

"Look, that arson stuff that's going on. Is that...you guys?"

He stopped mid coffee ground scoop.

"Considering you're with the government, it doesn't seem wise for me to confirm or deny,"

"Tam, I'm trying to help I swear. I just wanted to say that if it is then you should stop, I can only buy time for so long before the police are brought in,"

He put his hand on the counter, back still facing her.

"Are you threatening to call the cops? Well, we're not going to stop. It's not our fault that after years of our society abusing you, you decided to help it,"

"Tam I-"

"No. We've fought too long for what we want and you've worked too hard to make everyone forget you had a twin. I think it's best if you leave, Linh. Fitz is going to be home soon and he's heard too much to be fond of you."

"Fitz?"

"My boyfriend. Should be husband by now but your dear councillors aren't letting that happen any time soon."

"Tam, please, it's not like that I-"

"Please go. Right now. You know where to find me."

Linh nearly said something else, she wanted to argue, wanted to make sure she wouldn't lose her brother again.

Instead, she left without another word.

~*~

Linh stood outside the back of the new makeshift city hall (which was just an old fire department building repurposed) anxiously tapping her foot, waiting for Marella.

Soon enough a car pulled up and the petite woman got out of her car.

"Heya! You're waiting for me this time, that's new. What changed?"

Linh sighed.

"Look, you have to cut this stuff out. I- the police-"

"I don't care about the police. Lock me up, you have me right here officer,"

She extended her wrists straight out, offering to be handcuffed.

"I'm not a cop,"

"Really? Are you just an excitable citizen then? I thought you were just absolute shit at your job,"

Linh cracked a small smile but repressed it quickly.

"I'm a fire investigator...okay technically I'm just a firefighter but they needed more people,"

Marella cocked her head to the left.

"So none of this is even part of your job? You get paid more right?"

"Well no but-"

The girl opposite of Linh doubled over in laughter.

"Oh gosh lady you're just as bad off as the rest of us! No wonder you haven't done anything to stop us. Speaking of, scoot over, I have a fire to start,"

"No. Like I was trying to say you have to knock this off. They were trying to be stealthy but since I haven't given them any information they're sending in the cops if I don't get anything this time."

"You're trying to save my ass?"

Linh felt her face start to burn.

"Well um..."

"What's your name Miss Not-Even-A-Fire-Investigator?"

Linh sighed.

"It's Linh. Linh Song."

"Song? Like..." She trailed off, thinking for a moment. "No fucking way. You're the sister Tam always talks about. You know, putting me in cuffs won't do any harm to your brother, I'm no snitch."

"Tam has made it very clear he doesn't want my protection,"

"Why are you doing this then? You're risking your job, your...everything really,"

"I don't know,"

There was a tense silence. Marella stared her down, it was like she could see right through her into her soul.

"Linh, let me into the building,"

Linh didn't know why she moved. She didn't think she ever would know.

But she watched wordlessly as the files were taken out, loaded into a car, and then Marella walked a decent way from the building and tossed a ball of fire.

The building went up quick. It felt wrong to just stand there but...the fire was very pretty.

Soon enough Marella joined her in watching the blaze. They were wordless for a good while.

"We should get out of here soon. Someone's bound to notice the smoke," Linh was starting to get anxious.

"We? You don't have to wait for me, Linh. You have your own car,"

"Yes, I know,"

They were silent for another minute.

"Tam talks about how much he misses you, like a lot. Normally when he's drunk but still. He'd um... I think he'd like it if you um..."

"Yeah..."

Linh thought. And then she thought some more. What did she have to lose? She didn't have friends, or family, she went home every day to a mediocre apartment she could barely afford. She was underpaid and overworked.

"I want to join you,"

"You know, you said it yourself, you're risking your freedom,"

"What freedom?"

Marella smiled.

"Well, in that case, go home and get your things packed up. Meet me at the diner on 5th street tomorrow at noon. You might want to quit your job, we don't need a missing persons case on our hands."

"Be honest, is this a bad idea?"

"It depends how much you have going for you, but considering you're willing to run off to an undisclosed location with an arsonist I'm guessing you don't have much to lose. No offense," Marella looked panicked at what she said.

"None taken. Don't worry, I'm on my own. No wife and children or anything."

"Same,"

A siren wailed a few blocks away.

Marella smiled again. Wow, her smile was beautiful.

"Welp, see you tomorrow,"

"Yeah,"

Linh watched her walk away, a dorky grin on her face the whole time, before realizing she should probably get out of there before the police caught up.

~*~

The next day, Linh stood in the parking lot of the small diner. The only things with her a small backpack and a crate with Princess Purryfins, her murcat, inside. She didn't even take her car, rather walking the whole way.

Soon enough, a familiar car pulled up next to her and Marella got out.

"Is that it?" Marella pointed to her bag.

"Yep, like I said, no wife and kids or anything,"

"Yes but most people have, I don't know, clothes?"

"Swiftly changing the subject, I have a couple questions,"

"Shoot,"

"Since I'm not working anymore, how...exactly will I stay, y'know, alive and fed?"

Marella laughed. Linh knew that even if her answer was 'you won't, we live in the woods and you're our next dinner' Linh would still follow her if she was promised she'd hear that laugh again.

"Well, frankly I shouldn't be saying this in a public space, but we have allies in high places. They fund us,"

Linh nodded as if she understood fully.

"Any other questions?"

"None worth asking,"

"Cool, ready to go?"

Linh nodded again, tongue-tied from anxiety.

~*~

Nearly an hour later, they pulled up to a building in a rural part of the county. It seemed cozy enough, plenty land to be a farm though there were no animals. A small pond out to the side of a cabin that had clearly been added onto to make significantly larger.

As they walked up to the door, Marella pulled out an odd key with a swan insignia painted on the grip.

"Here is your new home for...as long as you choose to stay. You can always go out and get your own house if you want, but only paid with cash and no renting. We have to stay off the grid as much as possible,"

Linh just nodded again.

"You've been quiet," Marella pointed out.

"Yeah I'm just...it's been a lot,"

"I know, I'm sorry, you can still turn back,"

Linh shook her head.

"No, I'm committed now. I already sent the letter quitting my job,"

Marella gave her a sympathetic look.

"Alright, your room is down the hall, third to the left. I'll be upstairs if you need me. We're having a meeting tonight over dinner, then you can see everyone,"

Linh smiled politely, but started tearing up when she was left to find her room. What was she doing? Getting involved with an illegal organization against the government.

Ah the extents she would go to for a pretty girl. And nice. And funny. And smart.

Ugh. Cute girls would be the death of her.

~*~

Marella tapped her fingers on the table, waiting impatiently for the meeting to start.

Most people were there and she had introduced Linh to them.

Well, everyone but Tam and Fitz, who weren't there yet like the late-ass bastards they were.

Marella sat right next to the very quiet Linh, she seemed completely resigned about the whole ordeal. It had to be a very strange day for her.

Forkle stood up at the head of the table, tapping a glass with his dinner knife as if to get everyone's attention, even though the room was mostly silent.

"Good evening everybody! Today we have been joined by the lovely Ms. Song. Unfortunately we have not been blessed by the appearance of her brother as is usual of him."

Marella and the rest of her colleagues chuckled, Linh didn't.

As if on a timer, the door opened.

"Well speak of the devil," Forkle said, turning around to peer at the men in the doorway.

Tam's eyes went wide at the sight of Linh. He quickly ran over and scooped her into a hug.

Their conversation was quite long and very quiet, even for someone right next to them. All Marella caught was "I promise I won't leave again, I love you asshole," Linh came away with a slight sparkle of tears in her eyes.

After they broke apart, Forkle continued.

"Okay, now that we're done with that sweet moment, it's time for the boring stuff. It'd come to our realization that we can't continue on as we have been. We need something new to grab their attention. Anyone have a suggestion?"

The table was silent.

"Ms. Song? Perhaps you're more diligent than these kids,"

"We're very much adults, thank you very much," Keefe piped up.

"Mr. Sencen, when was the last time you changed the oil in your car?'

"...touché,"

Forkle sighed, and after a moment Linh started talking.

"I was thinking...all this fire stuff probably isn't great for the environment and stuff. And, well, water should work just as well. But, I mean, I don't want to impose-"

Squall cut in. "Ms. Song that's a great idea, we can cause just as much destruction with less harm and throw them off,"

Everyone around the room nodded their agreements and Marella nudged Linh's arm.

"See? You're fitting in already, nothing to worry about,"'

Linh smiled.

~*~

Linh sat at the edge of the pond, making small ripples in the water and looking at the fish. A toad croaked in the distance.

She didn't know if she was supposed to be out here, or if there were any rules at all. It didn't seem so, of all the people she'd met so far they treated this base like their home.

She felt a tap on her shoulder that made her nearly jump out of her skin. When she turned around she was expecting Tam or someone on their 'Collective' or whatever. Turns out, it was just Marella. She sat next to Linh on the bank.

"Told ya' everything would go fine,"

"You told nothing of the sort,"

"I was thinking it,"

Linh chuckled. "Yeah, it was fine,"

"So, what's your first impression of the gang?"

"Sophie and Dex seem nice, I'm a bit concerned for Keefe's car's health, I don't think Fitz likes me very much..."

"They can take some getting used to,"

"Mhm," Linh mumbled before they fell back into silence.

"So..." Marella said after a while. "Do you think you'll stay? Here at the base I mean,"

"For a bit. I don't exactly have an apartment anymore and this is way better than the one I had anyway. Just until I can get back on my feet by myself,"

"You can really stay as long as you'd like. Most people have their own homes but quite a few stay here. Sophie, Biana, and I do, at least,"

"Then maybe I'll stay a while,"

"I'd like that,"

Linh felt Marella's body heat get a lot hotter just then. She couldn't quite see in the moonlight but she guessed she was...blushing?

"I um... I was thinking um...that...um," Marella seemed to continue to heat, Linh was concerned she was going to catch fire. "I was thinking that maybe we could um...go out sometime? I- I mean as a date, o-or as friends if you don't-"

"I'd love to,"

Marella sighed in relief. "I didn't expect that to go well, honestly,"

Linh laughed. "Well, how does tomorrow at 8 sound? We can go to that pottery place on 2nd street, I think they mostly do kid's birthdays but that's never stopped me before,"

"Sounds great, it's a date,"

"It's a date,"

Linh almost just got up but hesitated for a moment. She quickly pecked Marella on the cheek before going back to the house as fast as possible. She almost thought she saw the light of a fire in the corner of her eye.

~*~

The beep-like news theme comes on followed by the announcer.

"Tonight on the 7 o'clock nightly news with Jennifer Watson"

The woman on T.V. straightens her papers.

"The two silvered-hair bandits known as the "Trouble Twins" by the public are still escaping the police's grasp. They have flooded two government buildings this week and don't seem to be intending to stop any time soon. They claim all they want is to have a proper negotiation with our lawmakers. Will the council respond to these vigilantes? Or will they continue to let our buildings be destroyed? And coming up next, this video of Bobo the panda has the internet going wild-"

Marella turned off the T.V. and slouched further on the couch. She bit into her apple, unamused.

"Babe, you have to be patient. We're getting closer, Councilor Oralie said she was going to introduce the idea of negotiation, it'll be ok,"

Linh's words helped but Marella was still unsure.

Linh sat back on the couch and nudged her.

"There's nothing to worry about, c'mon, give me a smile,"

Marella couldn't help but grin at the dork she called her girlfriend.

"There it is! Dinner will be ready in like...5 minutes so," Linh took away Marella's apple, "Then we can go meet up with Tam to fuck up the Tribunal Hall,"

"Sounds like a lovely night,"

Linh laughed.

"I love you, you know that?"

"We do say it to each other quite often,"

"Yes but I don't know," Linh looked down at her lap. "It's been almost a year and... I guess I thought I'd regret joining you guys at some point but I never have,"

"Well, I am quite charming,"

"She says, as she slowly slides off the couch,"

Indeed, Marella was now halfway to the floor. Linh just laughed.

~*~

"Order in the court!" Councilor Emery slammed down the gavel.

Bronte rolled his eyes. Ever since they decided to cut the telepathic communications (Emery's migraines were getting bad) he had been using that stupid thing.

"Today the council will be voting on one thing, are we willing to listen to the Black Swan's pleas? Or do we attempt to wrangle them?"

Everyone around the room scratched on their piece of paper with the old-fashioned and unwieldy fountain pens. Bronte already knew what his vote would be, he had many conversations with the Forkle brothers in the past, now down to one. It was an easy decision.

Once all the votes were in the box, Emery started counting. He sighed.

"And, with a close vote of 7 to 5, we will be attempting to negotiate with the vigilante group," He pounded the gavel again. "Meeting adjourned,"

Oralie gave Bronte a thumbs up from across the room. He rolled his eyes again, but fondly this time.

~*~

BAM BAM BAM.

The gavel was loud, Linh didn't like it, her anxiety was high enough that day, the stimulation of it all was too much.

Marella gently held her hand under the table.

"Order in the court!"

Sure, "court", not like they were sitting in the community center because they hadn't managed to rebuild the actual places of court yet, not at all.

"Today we have gathered to discuss many things. First, on the agenda is discussing giving citizens the right to vote as a democracy. Then, the details of a possible police reform and redistribution of funds. Finally, on what the current legal definition of marriage is, and the possibility of changing that."

Tam caught Linh's eye from across the room, he nodded at her.

Now, the real fight began.

[splendidlyimperfect]

Ooooo if you’re still doing the sentence starter thing can I request: “ i can’t believe that asshole said that to you .  it’s not true, you know.” And “you want me to punch him in the face ??” Please??? With Natsu comforting Gray???

this took a while, i can’t remember how long ago this was submitted, time is fake, i’m sorry <3 i hope you enjoy it! 

read my lips

rating: teen and up pairing: gray/natsu tags: modern au, established relationship, covid fic, coffee shops, hard of hearing character, sign language, ableism, audism, emotional hurt/comfort, me projecting on gray as usual

**tw for ablelism/audism (ableism targeted at Deaf/HoH folks) and an instance of the r-slur

-----

“I don’t care what Lucas says, Han shot first.”  

Natsu emphasized his point with his sewing needle, shooing away Happy when he tried to bat at the thread.

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Sting insisted from the other end of the video call. “I’m just saying that he did kind of invent Star Wars.”  

Natsu rolled his eyes at his cousin as he nudged Happy away from the laptop. “Yeah, and he suggested Darth Icky as a Sith name to the game devs for ‘The Force Unleashed’, so it’s probably time for him to just, y’know, not be involved anymore.”  

Continue reading on AO3

Sting snorted, shaking his head as he tied off a knot on the back of his embroidery and flipped it over to study the design. He sighed, holding it up to the camera so Natsu could see the uneven stitches.  

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get this,” Sting complained. “Yours looks so much better.”  

“I’ve also been doing it for years,” Natsu pointed out. He was about to say something else when the front door slammed open, bringing with it a red-faced Gray who looked like he was on the verge of tears. He kicked off his shoes, tossing his mask into the laundry basket at the door and throwing his bag on the floor.  

“Hey, love,” Natsu said, waving his hand to get Gray’s attention. Gray shook his head, refusing to look at Natsu and storming into the kitchen. Natsu frowned. Gray had been in a good mood when he’d left that morning, and he’d texted Natsu only an hour ago – on my way home, gonna pick up coffee, love you <3 

“Everything okay?” Sting asked.  

“No, I gotta go,” Natsu said, setting his embroidery down and giving Sting a concerned look. “I’ll text you later, ‘kay?”  

Sting nodded. “Hope everything’s okay. Love you.”  

“Love you, too.”  

Natsu nudged Happy off his lap, then headed to the kitchen, where Gray was aggressively washing his hands. Eventually he turned off the water but stayed where he was, head down and fingers gripping the edge of the sink.  

“Gray?”

He didn’t answer, so Natsu reached around the corner and flicked the lights a couple times. Gray sighed, grabbing the towel and finally turning around to face Natsu.  

What’s wrong? Natsu signed. Gray’s cheeks were still flushed, and he refused to meet Natsu’s gaze. 

I can’t fucking understand anyone, he signed eventually, looking like he was going to cry. Natsu frowned and Gray added, With masks on. I can’t read anyone’s lips and I feel so stupid.  

Natsu’s heart ached at the defeated look on Gray’s face. He stepped forward and reached out for Gray’s hand, which was balled into a tight fist. It took a few seconds, but eventually Gray sighed, letting Natsu slip their fingers together.  

“I just wanted a coffee,” he said out loud. His voice was tight and on the edge of tears. “The barista kept asking me something and I couldn’t hear her, there was too much background noise. It’s all just… sound. I didn’t understand. She had to write it down and people were staring, and I felt like an idiot, so I just left.” 

Natsu ran his fingers over Gray’s, bringing his hand to his lips and kissing it.  

“It’s so frustrating,” Gray said quietly. “Everyone thought I was stupid.”  

“I’m sure nobody thought—”  

“They did.” Gray’s jaw tensed. “The guy behind me thought I couldn’t hear at all, but he was so fucking loud. I heard him laughing, telling his friend I was…” Gray’s voice broke and he quickly rubbed at his face with the back of his hand.  

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Natsu said gently, pulling Gray close and wrapping both arms around his shoulders. Gray leaned into the embrace and pressed his forehead to Natsu’s shoulder.  

“He said I was retarded.”  

Natsu froze at the words that were muffled by his shirt. “What?” he tried to pull back to look at Gray again, but Gray wrapped his arms around Natsu’s waist and kept him close. He was trying his best to hold it in, but he was definitely crying now.

Natsu held Gray tighter, protective anger filling his chest as he ran his hand up and down Gray’s back. “I’m so sorry,” he said against Gray’s ear. “I can’t believe he said that to you, that’s horrible.”

Gray didn’t say anything. Natsu could see him biting his lip to keep back the tears and the soft sounds that came with them. He sighed, holding Gray as close as possible and pressing his cheek to the top of Gray’s head.

“I love you,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through Gray’s hair. They stood like that for a while, and eventually Gray’s shoulders stopped shaking. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Hey,” Natsu said gently, pulling back and making sure Gray could see his lips. “You know what he said isn’t true, right?”

“I…” Gray swallowed and looked back down at the floor. “It’s just so frustrating. I get so embarrassed and I feel so stupid.”

Natsu shook his head, nudging Gray’s arm and switching to sign.

First of all, that guy is an idiot and a terrible human being, and if I ever see him, I’m gonna punch him in the face. Secondly, you’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You know four languages, you can build computers from scratch, and you can code faster than humanly possible. You know every single piece of lore from World of Warcraft – which is ridiculous, by the way, but adorable.

Gray’s lip quirked up in a tiny smile.

There’s nothing wrong with you, Natsu continued. No matter what. Doesn’t matter if you want to wear your hearing aids or not, if you want to talk or sign, or if you need extra time understanding people.

Gray sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I know. It just sucks.” He exhaled loudly, then looked up at Natsu. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologize.”

“But—”

“Look, I know we’re Canadian, but apologizing for someone else being an ass and calling you a slur isn’t allowed.”

Gray laughed and the sound relieved the anger and frustration in Natsu’s chest. He studied Gray’s face for a moment – the deep blue of his eyes, the tiny scar on his forehead, the barely noticeable dimple on his left cheek.

“What?” Gray frowned at him.

“You’re pretty,” Natsu said simply, leaning in and kissing Gray’s nose as a pink flush spread across his cheeks. “And I love you.” Before Gray could attempt to deflect the compliment, Natsu added, “Do you still wanna get a coffee?”

Gray’s expression shifted into something uncertain. “I can just make it here.” He gestured to their coffee machine, but Natsu shook his head.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to go out and get coffee?” Gray gave Natsu a suspicious look and he laughed. “I have an idea,” he said, gesturing to the door. “C’mon, let’s go for a drive.”

~

Natsu made Gray drive. He gave directions that lead away from the house, across the freeway, and into the neighboring suburb. The roads were unfamiliar but Natsu navigated them from his phone, clearly looking for something specific.

“Where are we going?” Gray asked again. He glanced over at Natsu, who just grinned at him and pointed out the window. A Starbucks sat in the middle of the shopping complex on the right side of the road.

“Do the drive through.”

“There’s tons of Starbucks back in New West,” Gray said, frowning as he flicked on the signal and pulled into the parking lot. “Why’d we come all the way out here?”

Natsu didn’t answer, just gestured to the menu screen as Gray pulled up to it. He looked at Natsu, ready for him to interpret whatever the barista said, but was surprised when the screen lit up instead. Someone with long, dark hair appeared on the screen, dressed in a green apron and giving them a warm smile.

Welcome to Starbucks, how are you doing today?

Gray’s eyes widened as he watched them sign, and it took him a moment to realize that they could see him.

Good, he replied quickly, hoping he didn’t look too confused. Um. You?

I’m great! What would you like to order?

Gray stared blankly at the menu for a second, then remembered he always got the same thing. Doubleshot on ice, please? he replied. Grande? Natsu poked him and he batted his hand away. And a Java Chip Frappuccino.

Awesome, see you at the window! The barista smiled and waved at him before the video switched off and the screen returned to normal.

Gray managed to hold in his tears until they had their drinks and were parked in the lot. He quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, trying to hide his face from Natsu.

“That was Rogue,” Natsu said gently, reaching over and pulling Gray’s hands away from his face. “Sting’s new partner.”

Gray swallowed, trying to push down the lump that blocked his throat. “They can… they know sign.”

“Yeah.” Natsu brushed Gray’s hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. “Sting was telling me about them earlier – their little sister is Deaf so they’re pretty close to fluent in ASL.”

“Oh.” Gray stared down at Natsu’s hand in his, trying to figure out how to explain the complicated sensation in his chest. The frustration and embarrassment from earlier were gone, replaced with a deep sense of relief.

Natsu nudged Gray as he let go of his hand, and Gray looked over at him.

You’re not stupid, Natsu signed, balancing his drink on his lap. You’re smart and funny and gorgeous, and I love you so, so much.

Gray stared him – wild hair and bright eyes and the wide smile that Gray had fallen in love with so many years ago. “How do you do that?” Gray asked softly. Natsu raised an eyebrow. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Making you happy is my superpower,” Natsu said, grinning as he took a sip of his drink. “Now, y’know what you can do with lips besides read them?”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Kiss them.”

“You’re such a dork,” Gray said, shaking his head and laughing.

“You love me, though.”

“I do.”

Gray leaned over the console and pulled Natsu in for a long, slow kiss. Natsu’s hand brushed through his hair and he leaned into the touch – into the way that Natsu always felt like home.

“Mm.” Natsu hummed happily as he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “See, this is why I make you feel better – I get kisses when you’re happy.”

“So you’re not just being altruistic?”

“Not entirely. I may or may not have ulterior motives.”

“And do those ulterior motives happen to involve clothing?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

Gray laughed and brushed his nose against Natsu’s, then pulled him in for another kiss. He tugged lightly on Natsu’s hair, biting gently on his lower lip and tasting chocolate on his tongue. Then he pulled back and smiled, setting his coffee in the cup holder and putting the car into drive.

“Let’s go home and find out.”

[twilightofthe]

(Reposting the entire ask cuz it won’t show up in the fuckin’ tags and I need attention tf)

(Sorry anon, @duchess-of-mandalore ur prompt is here now lol)

So I see great minds think alike! And dawww thank you, this is such a sweet ship to write for, I have so much fun whenever I get the opportunity!

Since two people asked for the same thing, I sat on these prompts for a hot minute so I could come up with the best one!  It is Very Blatantly Anastasia-inspired but I love that movie so much so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (holy shit this is the longest one yet whOOPS I am not joking this is like a full fic size lol I might put it on ao3)

Obitine 10 - Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

This is a universe in which Obi Wan’s family didn’t give him to the Jedi as a baby.  They’re still not very well off at all, but maybe this time they try instead to seek better fortunes for the whole family, so off they go into the galaxy for a new life, and after a few years end up on Mandalore as refugees in Sundari.

At this point and time, let’s say the Duchess on the throne is Satine’s grandmother, and through a series of good fortune, Obi Wan’s family gets a gig where they can deliver things from the docks to the royal palace.  Obi Wan’s about eight by this time, so as the eldest, he’s to go with his father to help with the deliveries when necessary.  He’s got Special Gifts, though-- sometimes things break when he’s upset, he knows how to make some heavy things float if he thinks about it hard enough, and when other people are really excited or sad or something, Obi Wan can feel that too --and his parents have both stressed to keep that part of himself quiet on a place like Mandalore, here they only know Jedi can do those tricks, and the Jedi and Mandalore are enemies, so Obi Wan must be very careful, especially around the palace.

They’re running busy with extra deliveries for a celebration for the Duchess’s granddaughter who is coming to stay with her, when Obi Wan slips up for the first time in his life.  He’s struggling to push a heavier crate out of the speeder while his father goes around to talk to one of the palace staff, when the repulsors levitating it fail.  The crate is clearly marked fragile and Obi Wan knows they’ll get less money if they break something, and he doesn’t even mean to do it, he just thinks, and his hand is jerking out to raise the crate high over his head and has it settling gently down with the rest.

A gasp behind him has him whirling around and realizing he’s been caught.  It’s another kid around his age, long blonde hair done up in twin buns and flowing down in pigtails (Sailor Moon, I am breaking story to stress that baby Satine had Sailor Moon hair because it’s adorable and I must say it).  Wide blue eyes are staring back at him, and he feels a chill run down his spine as he’s asked how he just did it.

He starts talking, quickly, please don’t tell anyone, he promises he’s not dangerous, not a Jedi, he’s just helping his father--

Satine cuts the strange boy off.  When she had decided to run to hide from her tutors today, a child her age who could do magic tricks was not what she was expecting to find.  This seems much more fun than Mandalorian history.  She had never really minded the Mean Scary Jedi from the stories, much to her parents’ chagrin, and their powers had seemed interesting, so she says that she won’t tell anyone about his tricks-- as long as he teaches her how to do that.

She has to comfort him again when his face crumples and he protests that he doesn’t know how, and she changes to promise him she won’t tell as long as he agrees to play with her.  This is the first boy she’s met who isn’t one of her parents’ snobby friends’ kids she has to be nice to, or one of her annoying cousins who like to hurt when they playfight like Pre; she’s always wanted a friend before and this one doesn’t even seem to know who she is since he hasn’t started with all the bowing and the “milady-ing” that everyone else around her does.  

He seems much happier at this arrangement, or at least really doesn’t want her to tattle on him, so he promises he’ll be right back, he just needs to ask his father if he can play.  Something makes him pause, turning and asking her who she is, exactly.  Satine falters, realizing that if the boy knows she’s Lady Kryze of Kalevala, he might be too afraid to play.

Obi Wan is amused when the girl replies her name is Sabine, and her grandmother works in the palace, because of course that’s her name.  The folk heroine S’Tiin or S’Biin, depending on who you ask, is such a famous story around here, it seems like everyone on Mandalore wants to name their eldest daughters Satine or Sabine-- even the Duchess’s granddaughter is named Satine.  Her dress is very fine, a deep, pretty green, and Obi Wan asks if her grandmother works making dresses.  Sabine hesitates and says that no, but her grandmother is in charge of bossing the tailors around, so she can get nice things.  Obi Wan nods, figuring her grandmother is some staff overseer like the bossy men at the docks that tell his parents where to bring things.

Sabine asks him his name, and Obi Wan tells her, only for her to wrinkle her nose and ask if she can call him something else; he doesn’t look like an Obi Wan.  Bemused, he asks her what he looks like.  She says he looks like a Ben.  Obi Wan has never had a friend before, so he shrugs and says sure, she can call him Ben.  Sabine beams.  He likes making her smile.

She asks him if he can do cartwheels.  He can, and demonstrates them for her.  She smiles wider, and he really likes making her smile.  She asks if he can teach her how.

They practice cartwheels and handstands and chasing each other throughout the crates, until Sabine sees palace guards coming out and hisses for him to hide under one of the crates with her.  He asks why, and she pauses for a moment before saying that they don’t like the palace kids going outside unsupervised.  After this, Obi Wan is getting ready to meet his father again, and she grabs his hand, asks him if he’ll come back to play with her again.

Obi Wan really likes having a friend.  He tells her the truth, that his family makes the deliveries about once a week.  He promises to meet her again then.

Satine hasn’t felt so free, hasn’t had a true friend in forever.  She is unrepentant when she is caught and scolded for running off by the adults, and makes sure to be extra good in her lessons so she can wait for the next week to sneak off and meet Ben to play again.  She feels guilty for lying to him about her and her grandmother, but she doesn’t want things to be weird between them, and people often are weird around the Duchess’s granddaughter.

They meet to play once a week for about a year; Obi Wan telling Sabine about his family’s adventures around the galaxy and how he wishes they weren’t so poor, and Satine tells Ben in the vaguest terms of why she was sent away from her family because her home was not safe, how her little sister is somewhere else entirely, how she misses them.  Both become one of the most important people in the other’s life in a very, very short time.

Everything changes the night of the Grand Ball.  Obi Wan tells Sabine excitedly over sandwiches she smuggled out of the kitchens that his family were offered extra money by the palace to help on the inside and serve the many guests that will be arriving from all over the galaxy.  She replies that she will be at the ball too, and her parents will be visiting and she’s excited to see him, though he feels she’s acting a bit funny over the whole thing.  Sabine assures him she’s not, and offers to teach him a waltz step.  She’s elegant and graceful and very pretty; sometimes it feels like he’s friends with a fancy princess, not another servant girl.

Satine is a little worried now that Ben will be upset she lied to him, as he will definitely figure out she’s third in line for the throne at the party.  Her parents are coming in from Kalevala, even if Bo Katan will not be there-- a shame, Satine misses her, and they will all be standing by her grandmother as royal family members.  Still, she feels that maybe it will be okay; Ben is her friend!  She’ll show her grandmother that he knows how to dance, and maybe her grandmother will let her marry him when she’s older-- Satine has not told Ben that she plans to marry him one day, but that’s alright, she has time to win him over.

The night of the ball, Obi Wan messes with his carefully brushed hair and fidgets in the slightly too big serving clothes handed to him and his parents by palace staff as they arrive and change and prepare to set things up.  He looks around for Sabine, but he doesn’t see her amongst the servants.  This disappoints him, he was hoping to introduce her to his parents.  He thinks they’ll like her a lot.  He hopes maybe her family will like him too.  Satine dresses in her prettiest sky blue dress with a matching opal tiara and braids her hair into a crown over her head; maybe tonight Ben will see her and call her pretty.

The party is in full swing and Obi Wan is a little worried; he still hasn’t found Sabine yet, so he’s been sticking to his mother’s side and serving food to sentients and species he’s never seen before.  The royal family has yet to appear, but Ben’s more worried that Sabine is sick; did something happen to her?

Satine stands in formation outside the hall with her parents and her grandmother and her other aunts and uncles and cousins.  They raise their heads high, the doors open, they begin their procession through the room as the musical fanfare swells--

And shots are firing and transparisteel is exploding in showers as the all-windows ballroom is broken into from all sides by masked figures with jetpacks and a rain of blasters.  Satine has exactly one second to see her father turn, reaching for his concealed sidearm, before he is shot and topples.  Her mother’s scream sounds in her ears, but the woman is already drawing her own blaster to cover her grandmother and her grandmother is shoving Satine down under the newly made corpse and telling her to play dead until the whole thing is over.  It still smells like her father.  She doesn’t move a muscle as more blasterfire and screams echo around the room, and then the body above her is shaking with what seems to be more shots, and is being lifted off of her, and Satine doesn’t have time to raise a hand and cry out before her wrist is being seized and a masked figure holding-- holding a sword made of glowing black light?  Is that the Dark--? is grabbing her and towing her out of the room.  She sees far too many dead bodies amongst the smoke.  She recognizes all of her family members amongst them.

Obi Wan and his mother had avoided the first round of attackers by hiding under a table, but as soon as they made a break for it to frantically search for his father, his mother goes down.  Horrified, he tries to kneel next to her, but she looks him in the eye, and breathes out to find his father, run, take the service tunnels they took to get in here.  Obi Wan knows how to deal with heartbreak even in this life, so, dying along with her, he lets go of her hand, forces himself to turn away and make a run for the tunnels.  Along the way, he trips over his father.  He’s not moving either.  

Obi Wan Does Not Think About It besides a cruel sense of relief, that knowing his wife had died likely would have killed his father anyway.  He keeps running, is small and fast and can avoid the masked soldiers in the darkness as the power fails, and is almost to the end of the tunnel, when he hears a familiar voice crying out.

Sabine.

Picking up speed, he bursts out of the tunnel to see his friend in a fine but bloody dress struggling in the grip of a masked figure with the strangest sword Obi Wan has ever seen.  The figure resists even as she kicks him in the shin, and while Obi Wan is running, he will not get there fast enough as the figure picks her up and begins to lift off in a jetpack.

Sabine’s eyes meet his, he can hear her screaming his nickname.

He doesn’t think.

He feels the power surging in his gut and reaches out in fright towards the figure flying away, not focused on anything more than for fate or someone to please not take Sabine away too.

The figure’s jetpack sparks, sputters, stops working, spiraling down to one of the platforms in a crash.  Obi Wan watches in horror as Sabine is flung out of their arms and skids across the platform to a stop, their fancy black sword vanishing back into its hilt and sliding in the same direction as her.  The armored figure themself is not as lucky, tumbling over the side of the platform in the other direction and plummeting down at least ten stories for their jetpack to explode upon impact at the bottom.

Obi Wan tears over to Sabine, who is laying very, very still, a large, bloody lump on her forehead.  Obi Wan is about to break down because no, not her too, but he can see the fluttering of her chest moving, and he can smell the palace beginning to burn behind him, and he does not hesitate in scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder-- like they would do when they roughhoused, except now she is not shrieking in laughter and beating on his back for him to put her down --and last minute pocketing the hilt of the strange sword.  He sees a nearby speederbike and gently settles her in front of it and tears off, saltwater streaming down his own face.  

He’s never driven before, but he knows the way after a year of deliveries, and he takes them straight home to his family’s tiny apartment by the docks, locks the door, and drags Sabine under his parents’ bed to hide with him like the children they both are.  No matter what he does, she will not wake up.  While sirens wail outside, and the radio he leaves on reports everyone at the palace dead including the entire royal family, and the new leadership run by what is being called the Death Watch Junta, he lets himself cry, for her, for his family, for her own, for everything.

Sabine wakes up a full day later.

She doesn’t remember a thing.

Obi Wan is horrified.

She just remembers fuzziness and faint flashes of memory, of cold older figures, of a warm sunny room, painted wings on a canvas, the name Ben and bright silvery eyes that stare back at her now.  The boy tells her her name is Sabine, she lives in Sundari, Mandalore, and-- here he stutters --she is an orphan, like him.  Their families had all attended a party at the palace, where Sabine lived, but then bad people attacked, and they were the only ones to escape.

Sabine nods, this all lining up in her empty brain.  She has no true connection to these people who raised her, and yet, she cries for their loss anyway.  The boy says his name is--

Ben, she cuts him off, connecting the one name in her memories to the boy in front of her.

Obi Wan hesitates, about to tell her his real name, the one his parents gave him-- his parents who are dead and gone.  He nods, yes, he says, you called me that.  Ben Kenobi.  

Sabine asks if she has a last name.  Ben hesitates, says no, she never gave him one.  She cocks her head pensively, analyzing him.  Could I use yours?

He flushes, knowing only married men give women staying with them, their wives, their names, or they take the woman’s.  But still, it’s not like he has any other family now.

He agrees.

Two days later, using some credits stashed in Ben’s parents’ safe for emergencies, Ben and Sabine Kenobi make their way off Mandalore as workers on a cargo freighter.  Sundari holds too many bad memories for Ben, and the taunting of memories out of reach for Sabine.

Ben remembers Sabine’s distraught face, feels the hilt of the strange blacklight sword stuffed down the side of his pantleg, remembers how he couldn’t protect her, how she has no memory because of him.  How she still trusts him anyway.  

He will not let anything happen to her again.

And thus they live for the next decade, literally living hand to mouth and not having a single clue what the next day will bring.

Sabine remembers a grandmother, remembers her having fiery red hair and a stern voice, her mother’s eyes were blue like hers, remembers odd strands of music and lilies in a garden.  She remembers the story told to her of the Darksaber, which she doesn’t have a clue why someone holding it would be after her like Ben tells her.  She agrees he should hold onto it though, because from the little she remembers, it was never good news for Mandalore, and since Ben has Jedi powers, it’s best he keeps it for their defence.

Defence and safety is a slight issue for them.  Sabine is brilliant and great at coming up with plans for how two young kids can find money and food in a galaxy that only seems to benefit the uberwealthy, and Ben has his magic that lets him lie easily, float things out of pockets, sense danger.  But she always feels guilty after, and throws a fit every time one of their schemes results in someone getting hurt.  Ben rarely uses the Darksaber except to scare people, and it’s not like they’ve killed anyone, but she wouldn’t speak to him for three days after he knocked out a man by collapsing an old roof on him.  A man who was about to stab you with a fucking vibroblade, Sab, come on.

Someone taught Sabine how to shoot though, so they compromise by having her carry around a blaster set on stun, and a blaster Ben promises he’ll keep on stun, and then breaks it whenever there’s danger, and Sabine is upset again.  But he can’t help it.  She’s his family, and family looks out for each other.  Plus, she comes up with the plans and she knows how to cook, which he’s never figured out without her insulting it.  He should bring something to the table.

She doesn’t know why she’s like this, but she just feels this anger every time people have to resort to violence, because that’s what the galaxy has reverted to, that the Republic’s laws are so poor, that people need to hurt each other to survive.  Things have to be better than that.

She feels like there’s more in life for her.

But she doesn’t know what, and running free by Ben’s side as they steal from rich bastards and give back to people needy even when they go hungry themselves more often than not, when they find ships and hop from world to world, experiencing culture after culture, it gives her a sense of purpose, and she knows he agrees with her, that people need help, and if no one’s going to stick up for them, Ben and Sabine will.

He trains with the Darksaber, picks up books on swordfighting, watches old holos about the Jedi when he can.  Sabine watches him, watches the way his calculating eyes follow the motions, how his body moves when he practices.  He’s handsome, and she cannot tell him that, because he’s all she has, but that’s okay, she’ll grow out of it.  It’s just a crush.

Puberty is awkward and horrifying and hellish for the both of them, but they’ve lived side by side for too long for it to be a serious issue.  But it is embarrassing, very embarrassing.  Sabine does enjoy her three years of being the taller one though, and even when Ben finally passes her again, it’s only an inch and less than that when she’s wearing heeled boots.

Ben starts having to use both his powers and the Darksaber when their schemes get more complicated and them deeper into trouble with local authorities.  He’s rough, untrained, but he has his own style, even if they have to flee near immediately afterwards because rumors of Jedi start flying around.  They can’t have the Jedi know about them.  They’ll take away Ben because he’s like them and leave Sabine alone.

They nearly die multiple times.

They fight so bad they split up twice, though each time, no more than a day or two goes by before the one who packed their bags and stormed off “forever” is trudging back, apology on their tongue, only to find the other on their way to apologize as well and beg them to stay.

They visit Mandalore once, when they are fifteen.  It is a completely different place than how Ben remembers it, and to Sabine it doesn’t glow like memories that return do.  It’s wrong.  The ruling junta controls everything, everyone.  Everything is bleak and grey, and they try to do the job there as quickly as possible.  Sabine notices a lot of girls with her name, and the rarer ones named Satine; though, a local tells her when she expresses confusion at their question of what clan she’s from, the name Satine is dying out much quicker than its counterpart.

She is told a story of the warrior of old, S’Tiin/S’Biin that she remembers being told long, long ago, and how girls are named in her honor.

But then she and Ben are told of the Duchess Satine, the newer folk hero.

Sabine’s seen the name graffitied on various walls around the galaxy, there’s a Mandalorian bounty hunter phrase that talks of Duchess Satine’s luck being with them, but she’s never known what it meant until now.

Years ago, there was an old Duchess who ruled Mandalore fairly.  Her reign came to an end when the Death Watch stormed the palace and burned it and killed the Duchess and the entire royal family.  Sabine feels the dread in her gut, knows how her own lost family died that night, how she doesn’t even remember if she was with them when it happened, how Ben still wakes up screaming sometimes from the deaths of his own parents playing in his head, smoke and bodies sometimes haunting her own dreams.

But, the local whispers, rumors say that one body from the royal family was not accounted for: Lady Satine Kryze, the Duchess’s second youngest grandchild.  The body of the young girl was never found, though the government insists that she too is dead.  Dissidents and those who are unsatisfied with the Death Watch Junta’s rule pray otherwise, stake their faith that the young Satine escaped somehow, and is alive and thriving somewhere safe.

That now, as the only member of the royal family left, Satine Kryze will return to Sundari one day, overthrow the Death Watch and restore the throne, take her rightful place as the Duchess Satine of Mandalore and free them all.

Naming a child Satine now will earn you government attention you do not want, but people still have faith.  It’s all they have left.

Ben thinks the story is admirable, though he’s always been open and curious, willing to give things the benefit of the doubt.  Sabine personally finds it a tad ridiculous, and makes her even more furious at this “government” that mistreats its people so much they cling to dead children’s ghosts as prophesied saviors.  Ben never pulls out the Darksaber on Mandalore.  They leave soon after.

Ben and Satine as they grow up discover emotions like love, lust, want.  Neither can remember who first started making eyes at someone they saw on the street, who paid attention to someone who wasn’t the other, but that too causes fights.  The blowout when Ben almost lets Sabine get caught by an angry guard because he was talking to a pretty shopgirl, and then has the audacity to follow Sabine and brood from a distance when a pretty girl asks her to lunch because he doesn’t trust the other girl’s judgement.

They know the other has just grown more beautiful with age, and the painful temptation of how they can be so close, but so, completely, utterly forbidden, and besides, they don’t like me like that.

There are first kisses that aren’t with each other and brief flings with sentients on planets they aren’t on for more than a week.  They talk about love and families, but decide they’re both too young for that, and both feel a relief they won’t admit when the other agrees.

Everything changes once more ten years after Ben dragged Sabine away from the smoking Sundari palace and she woke up with nothing but faint ghosts in her mind.

They’re on a fairly backwater mudhole, trying to scope out a new ride off the planet after helping feed a colony of sick minorities oppressed by the local government, when Ben tenses up next to her and his hand slips around her hip in that way she knows is only protective, but wishes was more.  Sabine turns to see the blue eyes of a man watching her under a heavy brown robe and hood.

She murmurs in Ben’s ear, should they take an opportunity on this one?  Sabine may hate violence, but her and Ben have both found out by now that there are people all over the galaxy who may look a little too close at pretty young children, and the ones who act on those urges, they’ve discovered that neither feels much remorse when they lure them into the other’s stun gun and rob them.

Ben tenses, he’s always despised it when Sabine does this, is worried she’ll get hurt-- fuck it, he doesn’t like seeing her smile coyly at these bastards, beseechingly like she wants them, has to watch them undress her with their eyes, he wants to vomit or stab something or both, but he can’t make decisions for her, though hells know she gives him enough shit when he’s the one doing the luring, though he can’t imagine why.  It’s not like she feels anything for him.  She probably just doesn’t like that he’s being violent.

But his Special Sense goes off with a ringing when he looks at the tall man with the beard staring closely at Sabine, and his gut has rarely steered him wrong before, even if he’s furious with its betrayal by agreeing with Sabine that she should lure this man.

Said luring kind of backfires when it turns out that the vibes Ben was getting off of the robed man was him being a fucking Jedi who quite easily avoids Sabine’s stunning attempts and is now holding his bright green laser sword up to protect himself from Ben who has the Darksaber lit and is fully prepared to get his ass kicked but come on, this is not fair.  It’s especially not fair that the other man is smiling triumphantly.

Sabine feels sick.  The Jedi have found Ben and he’s going to leave her alone.

Ben snarls that he’s not going anywhere with the man, pressing himself to Sabine’s side.  This was his own fault for getting them caught

The man blinks, says he does not want anything with Ben.  He would much like to speak with the Duchess, gesturing to Sabine.

Ben and Sabine stare at him like he’s lost his mind.

The man clarifies, gesturing to Sabine again, asking if she is not in fact Satine Kryze?  

The Lost Duchess?

Sabine feels a high pitched laugh leave her throat, Ben snapping back that no she is not, but the Jedi just sighs, extinguishes his blade, and sits on the floor.  He’s still in front of their only exit because they were foolish enough to lure him into a room with one door.

He introduces himself as Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn, and says that he has spent the last two weeks following sightings of a black lightsaber very similar to the legendary blade that was wielded by the Mand’alors of old in the past in the possession of a young woman who appears to be the same age as Mandalore’s lost ducal heir.

Ben murmurs to Sabine that this man cannot be stable right now, feeling all the guilt at his own obsession with using his powers like a Jedi when a Jedi he is not and getting them in deep trouble.  Sabine is developing a massive headache, like some of the cotton fog that’s been stuffed tight in her mind for ten years is finally starting to dissipate, but at a rate that it’s just slow and painful.

She asks Jinn scathingly, do the Jedi chase after all silly fairytales now?

Jinn shakes his head with a patronizing smile.  No, he says.  But the Death Watch Junta do.

He watches as both of them tense at the names of those who wiped out their families.  He explains gently, that the Jedi and the Republic have had an eye on Mandalore as a recognized state sponsor of terrorism, and how new reports of them making threats against worlds with the description of the young woman and the lightsaber are making the worlds nervous enough to call the Jedi for help.  The Jedi have figured it would be best to locate the targets the Death Watch are after, if only to keep the worlds the Death Watch would raze to the ground to find them safe.

Sabine and Ben look at each other in horror.  Death Watch is after them?  Ben instantly hands over the sword to Jinn, says he can have that, he and Sabine will be fine on their own, they’ll leave the world and go somewhere they won’t be found.

Jinn shakes his head, says that they need to come with him, Death Watch intends to take Sabine back to Mandalore and publicly kill her.  It doesn’t matter if she’s truly the Duchess or not, they want to break the branches of resistance who view the Duchess as a symbol of hope.

With that, Sabine passes out, voices flooding her head, memories, castles, palaces, eyes, a throne, swarming through her brain.

She can’t be the Lost Duchess.  She can’t.  She would have--

What, remembered it?

Ben suspects foul play on Jinn’s part the second Sabine drops, and if he wasn’t so eager to take the opening and stun the Jedi, grab Sabine over his shoulder, and bolt, he would have known this wasn’t Jinn’s fault as he was surprised enough by her faint to let his guard down.

In his hurry, Ben leaves the Darksaber on the ground where he had tried to give it to Jinn.

He did not realize just how far ahead Jinn was of these Death Watch hunters, however, as not two hours later he’s ambushed, wakes up in a sewage ditch to very bruised everything and Jinn prodding him awake, and-- and Sabine is gone, he lost her.  He failed.

Jinn is shaking him out of his panic, making him a deal that if they come with him afterwards, Jinn will help him rescue Sabine-- and, help Ben learn how to properly use a lightsaber, he adds, holding the Darksaber back out to him.

Sabine wakes up alone and in chains in a dark room on a ship she’s not familiar with.  A helmeted man sits in front of her, asks her who she is, where she came from.  Sabine-- at the encouragement of his blaster to her foot, tells him the whole truth, which is that she has no fucking clue what they want with her.  She’s not the Duchess, literally every other girl on Mandalore is named Sabine or Satine, she’s an orphan, but so are half of the other kids in the galaxy, and she left ten years ago because the occupation was not proving safe or financially beneficial to a street kid like her.

For the first time in her life, her mind feels like she is lying when she tells the story.

As he and Qui Gon track down the ship that took her, Ben is kicking himself.  As a kid, when he met the richly dressed girl by the storage entrance to do cartwheels, he always felt there was something she wasn’t telling him.  Always felt like he was visiting to see nobility, not another servant girl.  A girl whose grandmother commanded servants, like the Duchess of all people was supposed to do.  A girl who was being taken away by someone wielding the weapon that symbolized the ruler of the people, that had to have been taken off of the dead body of the Duchess.

And Sabine had woken up with no clue who she was, and Ben could have quite possibly fed her an entire life’s worth of lies.

Sabine’s answers do not impress her captors.  She braces for torture, and that seems to be what’s on the menu for the next time she gets visitors, as the man growls over his shoulder as he leaves threats of what might happen if she proves so uncooperative again.

Her mind spins again.  Could she be?  Is she really?

But why would Ben lie to her?

He wouldn’t.  He couldn’t.  Sabine has known Ben long enough to know how he lies.  He was an emotional wreck who had lost his whole family after she had first woken up.  He couldn’t have lied to her then to save his life, certainly not to that extent.

No, Ben genuinely believed his tale of Sabine Nobody the servant girl, Sabine knows this with all her heart.

That means Sabine cannot be Satine Kryze then.

But she could?

Ugh.  Her fucking head hurts and she is utterly fucking confused.

Hmm.  One would think she certainly swears far too much to be a fancy duchess.

Ben and Qui Gon Jinn find and board the ship Sabine is on.  As they board, Ben’s anger and fury and worry is washed over by a placid cloud.  He scowls at Jinn, who comments on how powerful he is.  Says he would have made an excellent Jedi.

Something doesn’t feel right hearing that from a Jedi himself.  Ben grips the Darksaber tightly, says that no, he is a Mandalorian.  That’s who took him in.  That’s what Sabine is.  Ben stays with Sabine.  End of story.

Says Jinn with a sad smile, You’re quite right.

They storm the ship as it enters hyperspace, they avoid guards by the skin of their teeth, Ben wants so, so badly to give into that dark voice inside him that’s snarling to tear, to destroy, to kill.  But Sabine doesn’t like violence.  Insists that the sword must be for defence.  That’s what they do, the two of them, they defend people.  Ben slashes and disables, but he does not kill.

They find Sabine in a cell and as soon as they open the door, they realize their sabers will not work against the metal of the chains, but Jinn waves a hand and they unlock on their own.

Ben sees the lost look in her eyes vanish at the sight of him, feels such warmthwarmthwarmth, oh gods above, he could have lost her--

Ben kisses her.

She stiffens for a second.

Holy shit.  Ben is kissing her.

She kisses him back before he can back off and change his mind.

I’m so sorry, he murmurs to her.  For so many things... he’s thinking.

Don’t be... she swears, knowing absolutely none of this was his fault, that he’s stood by her when no one else did.  Don’t be.

Things go haywire and Jinn is shot in the shoulder and they have to make the breathtakingly imbecilic decision of all piling into an escape pod and launching it while in hyperspace.  They nearly burn up tearing out of it and all of them black out from the g-force (this is Not any of their days for staying conscious for too long, it seems).

They wake up and Sabine and Ben are still holding hands and Jinn calls her Duchess again, and Sabine tenses, but Ben strokes her hand, admits miserably that he thinks she might be, that she might have been keeping something from him as children and he had never known what, but--

Sabine hushes him with another kiss.  If so, she says, that was her own fault, not his.  He couldn’t have known.  

But not there’s no way to-- Ben starts, but Jinn interrupts by saying that actually there might be.  He may be no mind healer, but the Jedi have a talent for going into someone’s mind and convincing it to do their will.

Both Sabine and Ben tense, recalling clearly all the times Ben has talked his way out of impossible situations, said things people never should have believed, but they did.

It is quite possible, Jinn says, that he can coax those memories in her mind back out.  He feels them pulsing beneath in her brain, it’s not even that severe a case of memory loss at all, there was just no incentive to trigger their release.

Ben is about to protest, Sabine can tell, so she interrupts him to accept Jinn’s offer.  She’ll be alright, she promises Ben.  She will.  She needs to do this, and he knows she does.

His grey eyes are stormy with worry, but she knows he knows he’s right.

Jinn waves his fingers over Sabine’s face, she feels herself falling asleep once more.

She remembers.

Her life comes back to her: Mother, Father, Bo, Grandmother, Kalevala, the Sundari palace, being raised by tutors before escaping for the freedom of a mysterious delivery boy who taught her to do cartwheels, lying to him to pretend she was normal.

The night of the ball, her blue dress, the tiara that fell off as she was shoved under her father’s body, Ben’s pale face as the armored figure with the black sword started to carry her away, falling, falling--

I’m Satine Kryze.

I am the Duchess of Mandalore.

Gods, help me.

She awakens.  Her cheeks feel wet with tears.  She meets Ben’s gaze, and she just nods.

He knows from the second she opened her eyes.  He squeezes her hand, tells her, she was screaming.  He almost fought Jinn, who assured him painful memories are often agitating.

She nods and he knows.

He doesn’t think he can call her by her true name just yet, but--

He’s crying too, begging her forgiveness, he would have told her if he had known, this is his fault--

She cuts him off, promises him it wasn’t.  I was scared, she gasps, scared you wouldn’t want to befriend a royal.  I was going to tell you at the ball, I swear it, but--

It wouldn’t have mattered, he declares, kissing the tears off her cheeks.  I would have followed you everywhere, even then.  I still will.  I don’t care who you are to other people.  To me, you’re everything.  It doesn’t matter, Sab.

Gods, she loves him.

She tells him so.

He says it back.

And now that she has that assurance...

Okay now don’t be upset, she tells in that way he knows means one of her more outlandish and dangerous plans.  But what if, what if she tried to be the duchess the Mandalorian people are looking for?

Qui Gon Jinn makes a muffled choking noise off to their right.

His eyebrows raise.  But he doesn’t laugh.  She is infinitely relieved he does not laugh at her.

Inside him, something clicks.  He always did feel like he was visiting royalty.  And he meant it when he said he’d follow her anywhere.

But he can’t help but ask: does she have any idea how to run a planet, honestly?

Sabine Kenobi has lived with the lowest of society for ten years, seen things Satine Kryze would never have come close to being exposed to outside her crystal towers.  Sabine Kenobi knows the cracks in the system.  They’ve kept her up at night, with that feeling that she was always supposed to be doing more with her life.

That purpose she was always searching for.

She looks Ben-- Obi Wan, he said once that his name was Obi Wan.  Maybe we should get used to using the names we left behind... --directly in the eye, and asks him: would he be willing to stay by her side as she figured it out?  She warns the process would likely be trial and error.

He meets her gaze and smiles that cocky smile of his she’s always wanted to kiss off his face.  She can do that now, she realizes giddily.  He tells her, absolutely.

She does kiss that smile off her face.

A cough sounds behind them and they separate, turning to look at Qui Gon Jinn, whose face seems torn between amused, intrigue, and likely wishing the Jedi had chosen someone else to find a missing girl and a black lightsaber.

Right.  

Sabine Kenobi, Satine Kryze claps her hands, addresses Jinn.  It seems that the three of them are to be fugitives for a while, she points out.  How, exactly, does one go about starting a peaceful revolution?

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Nothings ever what it seems

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Summary: Sometimes how we see things by our own eyes are not how things really are. This a journey of how you should never judge people by what you see.

Warnings: Swearing, bullies, parent’s death, mention of death, depression, lots of angst, but a happy ending.

A/N: This is my little entry for @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 followers challenge, but I’m pretty sure it doubled by now ;) It’s really emotional and kind of triggering stuff so if you do not feel like reading PLEASE DON’T. But I am very happy about this piece as I always wanted to write something about bullies, as it’s a personal thing for me. I hope you will enjoy it <3

oh and let me tag @idjitmonkey​, I hope you don’t mind, but you wanted to have a read at that, so here it is <3

Word Count: 4300+ (wow, sorry)

There are people who loved high school. All the sports teams, cheerleading, friendships that would pathetically last forever. First ‘real’ relationships, sex drive and partying. Oh, and the prom, homecoming and all the shitty things all the girl were so happy about. All those people loved High School. But you were not one of them. 

You hated it so much. Every memory you had about this time of your life was filled with sadness, anger or anxiety. You hated everything associated with High School. You never went to any sports events, didn’t care about cheerleading or who is dating who. You couldn’t give less of a shit about fashion, make-up or the parties. Those years were a nightmare for you. 

As a shy girl that focused her attention on studying, books and all the ‘lame’ clubs (like history and literature) you were one of the first to be bullied. You tried your best not to show that it affected you, hoping that they would give up eventually. Of course, being a poor kid in a school fool of rich assholes wasn’t helping. You weren’t dressing like them, weren’t talking the same language. You never went out, not to mention that you never had a taste of alcohol or went on a date. 

All you ever cared about was your education and all those part-time jobs you started to get when you finally turned 16. You needed the money more than all those stupid parties. Despite having a full-paid scholarship for your school there were still expenses that needed to be covered. Like your dad chemotherapy. Despite him trying to hide all the expenses from you, you knew how much money went into that and how little savings he had. All the money went on you, and you decided that as soon as you turn 16 you will work for yourself. And so you did. After the first year of high school, you gave up on all the clubs and took three part-time jobs. You slept around 4 hours with an extra two on Sundays, but you managed somehow. 

Your dad was pissed when he found out that you gave up your young, high school life for him, but he was never more proud of you. You cherished those little moments you had with him. You always gave him the stories you wrote and he gave you the best feedback. You told him some made-up stories of your amazing highschool and friends you had. He didn’t need to know how lonely you were. Nor about the bullies, that seemed to love making your life even a more of a living hell. 

HYDRA. That’s what they called themselves. Bunch of guys (and girls) that would start their life by taking all the lunch money from the kids. When they found out you had no actual money they made sure to destroy you mentally. During lunches they would always accidentally tipped their drinks on you, leaving you with dirty and soaked clothes until the end of the day. 

But this you could survive. From time to time Steve Rogers and his gang would step up and defend the weak. A captain of the football team and the smartest guy in school has never looked down on you. But he was also from a rich family, that should ‘keep their level’ which means he would never even consider being friends with someone like you. 

But there was him. James Buchanan ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes. From what the rumours said he was friends with Rumlow - the head of HYDRA gang - since primary school, but before high school they got into a huge fight. And now became the biggest enemies. 

“You ok?” He once asked you, those grey-ish eyes that would hunt you till your last breath - gazed at you. He was the first person that treated you like a human being in this school and your stupid teenage heart decided to fall for him. For someone, you could never have. Someone that was from an entire world. A place where he could happily be a high schooler, a playboy and the most charming boy you ever met. All he needed was just a simple smile and all the girls would give themselves to him. The bad boy looks mixed with a kind heart. 

If you wouldn’t be so tired and focused on school and work, you would probably be apart of this group of girls secretly hoping he would ask them out. But you weren’t. So despite trying to make things better, you - the world's biggest disaster - just growled, took your backpack and left with no words spoken to anyone. 

The Avengers, as HYDRA called them, weren’t too happy about how you treated their kindness. Natasha Romanoff, a daughter of ahead of the police, cornered you in the bathroom once and made very clear that next time someone saves your sorry ass you thank them. 

And that’s how you went on with your life. Having two biggest, most influential gangs in high school hating you. Sometimes you would catch Barnes (you would never call him any other than his last name) glancing at you, smirk under his nose. 

So your life continued. It was cruel and tiring but a least you had your dad to make it work. It was him to beg you to go to at least your prom if you missed the homecoming. (you told him you weren’t feeling good). He even bought you a dress online. So when the day came you got yourself ready and was about to head to show yourself all fancy looking to your dad, when you got a phone call from a doctor to come to the hospital as your father was feeling worse. 

And this was when your life changed completely. There you were in this ridiculously beautiful dress, watching your dad’s heart stop beating before you were able to show yourself to him. Your world ended that day. At the age of 18, you were left alone in this world. With an enormous bill to pay and an acceptance letter for the NY University. On this day, you closed yourself even more. You didn’t even care about all those mean words from Rumlow or the little smirks and looks from Barnes. You focused completely on studying and surviving. You sold the house your dad still had hoped to keep and with the money you had from it you rented a small apartment outside of NY. An hour and a half drive altogether, but at least something you were able to afford. 

When you got that acceptance letter, you promised yourself that your life will change. You will be a better person and actually enjoy uni, even if you would have to work twice as much. You wanted to do it for him. Your dad. But now that he was gone, you had no reason. So before the Uni started you were able to find yourself two surprisingly well-paid jobs.

**

Journalism was always something you wanted to do. A little dream in the back of your head. Something your dad always encouraged you to do. And now that you were finally about to start your year at your dream Uni, there was nothing that would stop you. At least that’s what you thought. Until your first introduction class to WW2 you decided to take, as you always loved history. 

“Well isn’t this Mrs Trouble-maker?” You froze hearing the familiar voice of the man who once helped you. You looked up from the book you were reading while waiting for the class to start. “Of course front table.” He chuckled and smirked at you. The same damn smirk that was hunting you since that day. His hair was a bit longer and he seemed to spend a bit of time at the gym during summer. His eyes, however, were as beautiful as they have always been. 

“Barnes…” You whispered, closing your book and looking up at him. “I didn’t know you were going to NY.” 

“She speaks!” He laughed, turning towards Steve who just walked in. He nodded his head as a way to say hi and sighed at his best friend. “Year of having classes together and you never spoke to me directly.”  

“Buck”, Rogers growled, when the room started to fill. 

“You ok, if I sit here?” Your frowned, when he showed to the seat next to you. You shrugged and turned towards the front of the class when the professor walked in. You tried to focus on the class, ignoring the little glances Barnes was sending towards you. 

*

You were more than relieved not to see him in any of your journalism classes. Apparently, it was just this one you both shared. Through the whole summer, you hoped you will never see the people from high school ever again. You hoped this part of your life was over. You could move on. As pathetically as you do it, just move on. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You cursed under your nose, wondering why gods hate you. “I didn’t know you work here.” A small cafe place was paying quite good money as it was normally visited by rich folks that didn’t mind spending 24 dollars on a stupid latte. 

“What can I get you?” You asked trying to stay as professional as possible. You even gave him one of your fake smiles. 

“Oi, Stevie, Natasha, look who I found!” You felt shivers down your spine hearing her name. Oh, Barnes was annoying, while Romanoff was just frightening. And of course, she looked even more beautiful after summer. Her always short hair grew longer. And not to mention that she has probably lost some kilos as well. If that was even physically possible. 

“Y/L/N”, she greeted you with a grin and you welcomed them as they would be every other customer. “I heard you got into NYU…” Oh, how you hated small talk, especially when there was a line of customers started to appear. 

“I’m sorry but the line is getting bigger. Can I help you with your choice today?” You really tried to sound as nice and polite as possible. 

“It’s not very polite to not answer someone’s question”, she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you. 

“Is something wrong.” You froze hearing the voice of your boss. The biggest chauvinistic, rich boy of an asshole you ever met. He was not much older than you, but because he got rich daddy he became a manager of his own coffee place right after uni. “Y/N the line is getting bigger.” He growled at you angrily. Oh, and of course he hated you. Especially after you declined his offer for a date about four times already. He was just waiting for an excuse to hire you. 

“You should teach your workers to answer questions, Jack.” Your widened hearing Romanoffs remark. 

“Natasha! It’s so good to see you.” He smiled and went there to give her a hug. 

“Come on Nat, it’s our fault!” Bucky chimed in, giving you an apologetic look, which you tried to ignore. “Sorry, man. I was trying to catch up with a friend from school.” You did everything you could not roll your eyes at it. A friend from school. That was a good one. 

“Doesn’t justify why the line is getting bigger.”

“Maybe if you helped your workers a bit, it wouldn’t be that bad?” Bucky hissed. Apparently, they both didn’t like each other much. 

“I’m the manager, Barnes. I hire people to do their damn job and if someone can’t they probably shouldn’t be here…” As you were about to just ignore them and take another customer in, you froze hearing his words. “Sorry guys for the inconvenience your coffee on me.” He then smiled and turned towards you. “Well on her, as she seems not to be able to do her job!” Your eyes widen. No, no, that was not happening. Why did the world hate you so much? 

“Sorry doll, I...:” 

“Have you decided on your choice of beverage, sir?” You asked, trying to stop the angry tears from flowing. You were sure that when the day is over you will lose that job. And what’s worse getting a job in the middle of the academic year was a nightmare. Almost impossible. 

“Come on, Buck…” Steve murmured and ordered three cappuccinos for himself and his friends. “And we’ll pay.” He smiled and took his card from the pocket of his jacket. “Sorry about it, Y/N.” You nodded and turned around, preparing yourself for the end of the day. 

*

It was supposed to be your time. Journalism was what you loved since you were a kid. An idea of telling someone’s story was so appealing to you. So beautiful and romantic. But now when the end of the year came and you got a yearly reminder of how much you own to different institutions you were sick. The bill for your dad’s treatment wasn’t getting any better. not to mention the still growing rates of your student loan and all the postponed bill were growing as well. You were completely broke and after losing the job at the cafe you didn’t get to find another one. Not a part-time, who would expect students or something which was remotely near uni or your flat. Not to mention that your landlord needed to raise the rent, which only made you realise how fucked up you were. You were able to get extra shifts at the shop but it still didn’t pay the expenses. You needed to make life decisions and this one, to end your childhood dream was one of it. 

A year of expenses from University was still better than a future 5 years (mixed Master course)  and as much as it pained you to send the letter to the dean you needed to do it. You cried the whole week prior to this decision. You felt even worse when the amazing guy tried to make you stay, promising to try and help you with the loan. But even with the extra scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to make it. So with as much spirit and power you had in you, you thanked him and left his office ending your student career. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You have got to be fucking me! Since the cafe incident, he tried to talk to you. Even invited to a 4th of July (and Steve’s birthday) frill and theirs. But you ignored him. You didn’t care you were impolite but you hated him. And as much as you knew he wasn’t really at fault for your shitty situation but now you really needed to put a blame on someone. “I missed you at the hist…” He got quiet when he noticed the tears that you had enough of hiding. “What happened?” His voice serious, and there some softness in his feature. 

“Leave me alone, Barnes!” You hissed, and walked past him, to the end of the building, really not wanting to make a scene at the corridor. “Just once in your life, leave me the fuck alone”, he was taken back by the curse. For all the years he’s been observing you, you never once cursed. Never. You were a goodie girl. 

“No. You’re crying. Come on, tell me what’s happening? Did someone hurt you?” The sincerity in his voice was so annoying. Why was he so nice to you. Why did he even care? 

“Why would you care heh?” You growled, not caring about making a scene anymore. He wanted to know. Then fuck it. He will know. “Why would someone like you care? Your whole life is nothing but open doors waiting for you to cross. Why would you give a fluffing fuck about someone like me? You never cared about making my high school life a living hell beside that damn Romanoff and Rumflow. The never leaving smirk on your face haunts me till this day. The way you look down at people who weren’t so lucky to be born rich.” You sniffed and pushed him away from you when he tried to take a step closer. “And when I thought I was finally free from this damn school, you and Romanoff happened again. You walked into my life, making it a living hell again. This one time after this damn prom night, I wanted to start living again, but no, you were always there, with this annoying smirk of yours!” You didn't care that there were people watching the two of you. You were sure you heard Rogers and Romanoff from the crowd, but Barnes stopped them with a shove of his hand. “But I didn’t care. I learned to have my life a living hell, but then you had to come to my work and destroy all of it, with your damn friends!” You shouted, showing at surprised Natasha. “You with your high status, rich kids behaviour cost me my job!” His eyes widen and when he was about to open his mouth to speak, you stopped him. “You have no clue about my life. No idea how hard it is for me to survive every passing hour. Not to break down and just fucking give up.” You shook your head, wiped the tears with your sleeve and turned around. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever game you were playing, you won, Bucky. Congratulations.” It was the first time you called him that and it burnt your lips. “Damn it, everyone is watching… At least I will never come back to this place…”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I quit. Are you happy now? huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!” You shouted, turning back to him. “Life isn’t always as happy and under control, as yours is. Life is shit, Barnes. I hope you will never have to find it out!” And with no words left you run towards the exit, pumping at Romanoff, who had the decency to look sad. 

*

“I miss you, daddy!” You whispered, putting a simple sunflower on his grave. “I… I can’t do this any longer. My life is a mess, really. I'm a mess. You know… I left uni…” it was a month after you shouted at Barnes and left NYU and the first time you came to your dad’s grave. “I could not afford it. All the expenses. The bills, the loans… Everything just kept crashing down. But hey I got two jobs back. Damn it, daddy… I don’t blame you don’t get me wrong, it’s just. It’s hard. And I made a fool of myself and blamed a poor guy for all my problems. He didn't deserve my bitchy attitude, but… It was Barnes.” you chuckled remembering the time you told your dad about a guy you had a crush on. “He really didn’t deserve it. Now that I think about it, he was always nice to me. A bit cheeky and annoying but nice. Well, I guess it was harder not to have a crush on him, right?” You chuckled through the tears. “I think I will leave NY. I may go and live in a small town. You would be so disappointed at me, daddy. I really wanted you to see me happy. I was ready to come to the hospital and show you this damn prom dress, but… I’m sorry daddy.” You sat on the ground and hid your face in your knees. 

“I’m sorry.” You jumped on your feet hearing a familiar voice behind you. There was Barnes, with tears in his eyes, and a flower bouquet in his hand. “I didn’t know… No one knew…” 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pretending to start cleaning, the already cleaned grave. 

“Please don’t hate me for that.” You frowned hearing his defeated voice. “Nat looked you up using her dad’s access.” You froze, but then you shrugged. No, you didn't care anymore. “Jesus, Y/N, did anyone from school knew? Teachers? Anyone?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Barnes.” You shook your head and put your small backpack on, and got yourself ready to leave. “Thank you for the flowers. If you wish you can put them next to mine. He would be happy.” 

“Y/N, please.” He cried, stopping you by your wrist. “Please… I… I really didn’t know about your situation. I didn’t know your dad was sick, not that he died… Please.”

“What do you wanna know Barnes? What’s more important, why do you need to know? It won’t change anything.”

“I always looked at you.” He smiled softly. “You were this smart, quiet, beautiful girl who caught my eyes. Damn, I was obsessed with you. I was hoping to see you at the prom, I wanted to ask you out. But you never came, now I know why...“ His gaze shifted at the grave behind you. “I cannot even imagine what you went through… But maybe we can start from the start and I can take you out for a coffee or something?” You looked at him and there was something shifting in your heart. This always confident guy was now all shy and nervous, all because of you. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled. 

“I will start everything from the beginning. This is why I’m leaving. Have a great life, Bucky.” He wanted to stop you, convince you to not leave but he knew that he was being selfish. So he watched you go. He left the flowers on the grave and promised to come here every year from now on. And maybe he would be able to see you again. 

*

It has been years since you came to this place. Ten years since you moved away and started a new, better life. You moved to Carlisle and worked in the little library there with some extra job in the small coffee shop. You got your degree in teaching and not journalism and you schooled kids in the little military school there, while you found yourself writing books, one after the other and before you were able to blink you were one of the most established writers. Your books were selling quicker than the freshly baked bread and you were finally happy. You were sending flowers to your dads grave unable to come back there. Until this year. After years you decided to move back to NY. A city you found yourself to actually love. You bought an actual flat in Brooklyn and got a small teaching job at the school there. Despite not having to work, thanks to your books, you still loved doing it. 

And when the anniversary of his death came, you finally went there, only to be met with a figure cleaning the grave. You frowned, knowing that you have cancelled the yearly grave caring. 

“Hello?” You froze when the man turned around. Despite those ten years, he hasn’t changed much. He has cut his hair from what he had in college. He has become a bit bigger, especially around shoulders. His jaw seemed sharper than before. He changed. From a boy, he transformed to even a more handsome man. But his eyes stayed the same. Beautiful greyish once that always melted your heart. You didn’t remember him being so tall, but when he straightened up he was a good head taller than you. “Barnes?” 

“Y/N?” His expression softened, hearing your voice. It was visible on his face that he had not recognized you. Of course not. You weren’t this poor kid anymore. You were good clothes and a bit of makeup. Your hair was well done, and not kept in a loose ponytail. Just like he has become a man, you have become a woman. “Wow… You... “ He coughed awkwardly, which made you giggle quietly. “You look great, Y/n.” He finally said, his voice a bit distant, almost unsure what this compliment would make you do. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You complimented himself, and you swore you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” You asked, softer now. You noticed the already cleaned grave and some fresh flowers. 

“I…” He hanged his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t be mad at me, ok?” You frowned and nodded, letting him continue. “I… Since you left I came here every year and took care of your father’s grave. I felt so bad for how I treated you, and everything, and… Well when you left, this was the only reminder of you.” You felt your heartache at this shy, lost man standing opposite you. He was this confident, smirking and annoying kid anymore. You could see it in his eyes. He went through ups and downs in his life, which made him a different man. “I… Can stop if you want. I’m sorry, now that I think about it, it was invasion of your privacy… Shit, I…” You stopped him putting an arm on his forearm, to stop him from mumbling. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” His eyes widen, when his nickname sounded so soft. He swallowed and smiled shyly. “It means a lot to me, really. I… I think I should apologise to you as well. I was unfair to put all my failures on you. you were always nice to me, and I… I think it all just was just too much for me. I’m sorry Bucky for being such a bitch.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but admit that this made him look even more handsome. So you decided to be a bit bolt. “What do you do after this?” 

“Nothing planned, why?” He asked, brows raised, when you smirked at him, trying to mimic his smirk from high school. 

“How about I go apologise and say hi to my dad and then we can grab that coffee you promised me those ten years ago?” He gaped at you like you were crazy for a second, but then his face lit up and the most beautiful smile appeared on his face. 

“I’d love that doll.”

[writersrealmbts]

Diamond Tears and Little Wings

Part 1?

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 08/22/2019

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Lots of angst: 2,600 words

A/N: This was a request by an anonymous user! It was so cute that I started it right away! Also, it has potential for future installments or whatever so! 

You stood ready. Ready to receive the love and attention you so desperately wanted and needed from the seven men you loved so very deeply. But it was your fourth hour of waiting and already you could feel how heavy your wings were getting. But they promised they would be home soon. You wobbled slightly, looking up as the clock chimed and marked another hour passing. You teared up and sniffled, trudging toward your room as you resigned yourself to another evening alone. They had been forced to take you in as a publicity sort of thing, making them look more charitable as other groups were thrown into an unfavorable light for abuse of fairy folk. And the timing of it had been quite ingenious. Before they took you in you had been living in a home for the fay, usually staying in your pixie form because it was so crowded and it was much easier to hide. Taehyung had seen you watching them and broke away to investigate, following you and subsequently playing hide and seek with you (you won) until he realized he was lost. Then he asked you if you would come out and help him find the others again, seemed kind of scared. You flew as far ahead of him as you could without him losing sight of you, leading him back to the others where you collided with Namjoon’s hand and ended up on the ground. A broken leg and a ton of paperwork later and you were in a cushioned shoe-box on your way home with them. Things were awkward for a while, because you were nervous and they weren’t sure how to take care of you. You had a broken leg, so you had to stay in the form you broke it in, and you couldn’t fly as great of distances. You spent quite a few days in the shoe box in their practice rooms or studios, only able to watch and admire. You started watching their videos and listening to their music, catching up on everything the fans already knew since you had to live with them. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin got you a doll-house that you could inhabit as your smaller self, putting it in the bedroom that they had set aside for you. The change in the way you all interacted came when you finally were able to switch to your human-sized form and they saw you like that for the first time. They knew you were able to change back and forth, but they hadn’t seen you big until the morning after you first changed. You hadn’t really thought about scaring them with your changed form since you’d had a great night’s sleep and were still half-asleep when you walked into the kitchen to get some juice. Ever since then, they had been very attentive, and curious. They would ask you more about what you wanted and needed to be happy. They found ways of spending more time with you, especially after you explained that you needed more of their love and attention because it was how you lived. But now it seemed as though they had forgotten. Forgotten that you needed them. Forgotten that they once loved you. Forgotten that you existed. You stumbled and switched to pixie form, going into your doll house and hiding in one of the closets with some blankets and pillows. You cried into a bowl, not wanting to end up sitting on one of your tears. You were one of the unfortunate kinds of pixies whose tears turned to diamonds after they had been shed. Little droplets solidifying as they dripped off your nose and chin. Your glow faded even more as you became too weak to even cry. The clock struck again. Another hour gone. You heard the front door open, seven bodies enter, the door close. Shuffling steps to respective bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen. None of them came to check on you. You felt like you might turn to stone. You would have to go find another family to love you for a year. That’s all that ever happened. One year with people who loved you, and then the novelty wore off. There was muted conversation in the kitchen, but you were too tired to hear what was said. It didn’t have anything to do with you anyway. You room door opened after a soft knock, and someone stepped in. They were still for a moment, then quickly stepped over to the dollhouse. “Y/n? Are you in here?” Jimin asked softly, lifting the roof to peek inside, but you were on the first floor in a closet that could only be seen in when the closet door was opened. You heard him put the roof back and tensed as he turned the house around to open the back and look inside. “Y/n?” “Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice sounded near the door. “I can’t find Y/n,” Jimin said, sounding a little worried. “Y/n, are you in here? Please come out.” You couldn’t open the door even if you wanted to. Your eyes were barely open. Hoseok started down the hall, calling your name and probably telling the others why. Jimin opened the closet door and your body sort of slumped out, dumping the bowl of tear drops. “Y/n!” His fingers carefully picked you up and then he cradled you in one of his hands, holding you securely as he rushed out into the bright kitchen. “Hyung, there’s something wrong with her!” You could hear them all talking at once, but you fell asleep, too tired to do anything else. You woke up somewhere very warm, and very alive. “She’s awake,” Someone whispered. You forced your eyes open even though they protested, seeing the finely woven threads of a shirt. “Y/n?” Yoongi whispered, his voice vibrating through you as he held you against his shirt. You tilted your head back to look up at his face. “Are you okay? You had us worried,” Hoseok whispered, a finger petting your hair once. You nodded. They exchanged disbelieving looks. “Your glow is so dim, y/n,” Jungkook said, offering his hand for you to crawl onto. You did, more because you felt some serious vertigo and Yoongi’s pajama shirt was slippery, but your arms barely held your weight and you quickly collapsed into his hand. Worried sounds and mutters issued from the boys. “Take her to a doctor?” “Maybe she ate something she shouldn’t have?” “Should have come home sooner.” “Don’t tell me that, I tried to!” “You’re all being too loud,” Jin intervened as their voices were raised. “She’s a pixie right now, so everything is going to be twice as loud, if not louder. Calm down and let’s do what we can to take care of her.” “You still feel cold,” Jungkook whispered, taking you over to the counter where Hoseok was finishing setting up a bed on the warmed up bean-bag heating pad you used in winter. He carefully laid you on the blanket and Hoseok tenderly wrapped the blanket around you. “I found the care book they gave us,” Namjoon said, rushing back in. You could hear him flipping through pages, muttering under his breath the topic he was looking under. “Here is it, “When and Why Their Glow Fades”. Um…three main reasons, the first is that she’s sick, but she would feel warm to our touch instead of so cold. Second is excessive cold…but it says here that her glow would be very white and her glow is more…I don’t know…blue?” “Gray,” Jungkook said, carefully petting your hair. You curled up making sure he could still pet your hair, but relishing in the warmth of your current bed. “Third reason is…” “Hyung?” He cleared his throat. “Being unloved or feeling unloved for a period of time that causes them to go into rapid decline.” You sniffled, the only sound in the room as they all held their breath. “What do we do?” Yoongi asked. “Probably talk to her first,” Namjoon speculated. “Y/n?” You looked to him instead of the blanket. “Hey, we’re really sorry we came home so late. We didn’t mean to make you wait for us. We’ve missed you,” He whispered. “We’ve been working extra so that we could be home with you all weekend,” Taehyung added, voice wobbling. “We love you so much, y/n,” Jungkook whispered, still petting your hair. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like we did. We’ll try to make it up to you.” Hoseok leaned in and kissed your head, getting a snort out of you since it always felt funny and he knew it. You pinched his upper lip when he went to do it again. He laughed in surprise, gently poking your belly. “Little imp.” Your giggles died and sadness filled you again when you realized how little he had been teasing you the past couple of weeks. You had missed it so much, and now he was only doing it because you were fading. “I got you a present, y/n,” Taehyung said, capturing your attention. “I had someone make you a coat that wouldn’t hurt your wings when you’re in your big form. I measured your wings while you were sleeping and sent in pictures and everything. I hope it fits, but if it doesn’t we can have it fixed.” “And we brought home your favorite cake,” Seokjin said, pointing to the box further down the counter. “I rented that movie you wanted to see when it was in theaters but couldn’t because we were too busy.” Jimin smiled proudly for remembering. “Do you want to watch it now, y/n? Or tomorrow?” “We really do love you, y/n. So very much. One of the reasons we took so long was because we kept thinking about you and what we would do with you once we finally got to the weekend.” Hoseok gently scooped up the beanbag cradling it—and thus, you—in his hands. “I accidentally wrote your name in the lyrics about a hundred times today.” “And I messed up the choreography so many times because I kept wondering what you would think of it,” Jungkook added, looking a little upset at Hoseok taking you away from where he could caress your hair. You wanted to believe them, but you knew how easily they lied. All humans lied easily. Fairies didn’t have that privilege, another reason they became oppressed so easily. They couldn’t lie. You couldn’t lie. But you also couldn’t tell when someone was lying. “Please don’t die,” Taehyung whispered, his voice betraying that he was already crying. You hated it when he cried. It hurt your soul. You tried to push yourself up and managed to do so for about two seconds before you collapsed again, sparking worried exclamations and sounds from the boys. “Don’t hurt yourself, you’re really weak,” Yoongi said gruffly. “I’ll heat up some broth for her. Someone get out the pixie sized dishes.” Seokjin went to get them. Taehyung took you from Hoseok, sniffling and holding it close to him as he carried you over to the couch so he could sit. He looked desperately sad, and you wished you were strong enough to wipe away his tears. But his face was honest and open. “You love me?” You asked, voice coming out creaky. He sniffled and nodded. “Since you first hid from me.” You felt warmth again, and you wiggled to get your arms free and hold them out to him. He carefully picked you up, bringing you to his cheek. You pressed against his cheek, giving it a little kiss, and then squeaking as a tear dropped onto your head. He looked down and laughed a little, handing you the blanket again. “Sorry, little wing.” You wrinkled your nose and poked his wet cheek again. He brought you to his forehead as he leaned back and you climbed on to his forehead and rested there like you used to. You were already feeling a little better, and you giggled as you smelled his shampoo, climbing into his hair and playing with it. He laughed when you tugged on one of the strands to tease him. “You must be feeling better, y/n. Do you think you could get big for me?” “No.” “Please?” “No,” You said again, almost petulantly. If you got big then the others would keep lying to you about loving you. You didn’t need them. You had Taehyung. He loved you. He plucked you out of his hair, a little roughly and immediately apologizing as he held you more carefully. “We need to talk, as a family, y/n.” You pulled the blanket over your head and curled up in his hand. “No.” “Okay, well, we’re going to talk. Can you at least listen?” You didn’t move, which they seemed to take as an acquiescence. “We know we let you down, and you have every right to be mad at us, and sad. You have a right to feel whatever you are feeling. But we need you to know that we love you, so much. We’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. We weren’t sensitive to your needs.” Namjoon’s words sounded like they were carefully chosen. “We were really scared when we found you, y/n. I don’t know what I would do if we lost you.” “I’m not a pet,” You squeaked, tears filling your eyes. “I know. You’re a person. Our person,” He replied quickly, but he sounded lost now. Like he didn’t know how to say what he wanted. There was a hint of desperation in his tone that had you inclined to believe that he loved you too, but you weren’t sure. You looked out at his face, seeing the way his eyes were fixed on the couch. He looked lost and upset. Like he wanted to fix things but he didn’t know how. Like he had just broken something he really cared about. Your gaze drifted to all of their faces. Now that you weren’t as weak, looking at their faces you could see their worry and care. Their love. “This can’t keep happening,” You told them, sniffling once more and sitting up, holding the blanket around you. “I depend on you guys to live. Without you, I fade. I die. I’m not a puppy. I need your love unconditionally because I…” You teared up again. “Because I can’t help loving all of you. It’s part of who I am!” Hoseok was in tears now, and so were Jungkook and Jimin. Jin looked pretty close to tears as well, looking at the ceiling. “We do love you,” Yoongi finally said. “We’ll take care of you.” “I’m never leaving you here alone again,” Jimin said dramatically, taking you from Tae and cupping you to his chest. You sighed and rested against him. “Okay. Set me down. I think I’m strong enough to switch.” He placed a gentle kiss on your head and then set you on the couch between him and Jungkook. You shimmered into your bigger form and made a queasy sound. “Oh, I shouldn’t have done that,” You whispered, a tear slipping out and you bent forward to try and combat the nausea. It clicked onto the floor and Jungkook picked it up. “Um, is that supposed to happen?” You nodded emphatically. “So stop making me cry.” Jin leaned in and kissed your lips, effectively stunning you. “We promise.”

--

Next

Masterlist  -  ot7 Masterpost

[verai-marcel]

Ok hear me out, oh goddess of our Arthur smut, Modern day low honor Arthur (manager of [pick a store]) and fem reader, new hire. Work romance and pure smut, because I can see Arthur being the guy at work that comes in, in the morning and says “Ladies” and ALL THE WOMEN AT WORK SIMULTANEOUSLY SING “heyyyyyyy Arthurrrrr” back. XD

Business Time at the Bistro (Arthur x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You’re the new hire at a trendy bistro near your house; you were tired of commuting to the big city, and decided that less stress and a 10 minute walk to work was worth the pay cut. Your boss, Arthur, seems like a nice enough guy, but when he starts to handle your training personally? You start to feel things you shouldn’t feel for someone you work for. How will you deal with your budding emotions?

Author’s Notes: My title is a Flight of the Conchords reference. If you haven’t heard their song “Business Time”, go look it up. I know it’s not quite the mood I’m going for in the fic, but it made me laugh when I thought of it, so I just went with it. Anon, this is for your cute request.

Tags: low honor Arthur Morgan, smut, office sex, doggy style, dirty talk, slice of life

AO3 Link is here, you coffee snobs.

——————–

You walked into the bistro and fell in love at first sight.

There was soft folk music wafting through the air as you took in the scent of freshly ground coffee. A tray of scones and muffins, baked in house, looked appetizing behind the clean glass case, and the decor was cozy with a hint of modernity, resisting the urge to be hipster, and yet felt trendy as fuck.

“I want to work here,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Well, we’re in need of some help,” said a deep voice behind you.

You spun around and looked straight into a broad chest. Lifting your head up, you saw the owner of the voice, and presumably, the owner of the bistro.

He was a tall man with eyes the color of a lake and sandy brown hair, long enough to bury your hands in. His beard was close cut, uniform style, and accentuated his lips that you may have stared at for a second too long.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he tilted his head. “Sorry ma’am, did I mishear ya?”

You shook your head. “No, no, you heard me correctly. I’d love to work here.”

He walked up to you and held out his hand. “Arthur Morgan. I own this place. If you want work, let’s talk.”

His hand was calloused and warm, and held yours firmly but not aggressively. When he smiled, your heart skipped a beat.

***

An hour later, you had the paperwork to start a new job as a barista manager. You had prior experience with shift schedules and managing employees, and even though you didn’t have your resume on hand, you quickly pulled up your LinkedIn profile and gone over your work history. Your quick thinking and straight forward attitude had apparently won you points. 

Arthur, owner of Buell’s Bistro, said the original owner, a veteran named Hamish, had left it to him before retiring to Colorado. He said he didn’t know too much about being a business owner, but he seemed to be doing just fine, given the amount of customers you saw as you left.

Now all you had to do was give your two weeks notice to your current job, and you could finally make yourself happy.

***

You could not wait to start your first day at the bistro. The past two weeks had been a hell of a slog, trying to stay present and aware while you dreamed of an idyllic future. You were looking forward to walking to work and not having to drive an hour into the city every day. The corporate hell you escaped had made you strong, focused, and a nervous wreck at the end of each week. You were glad to be done with that career and moving on to something calmer.

Walking towards the employee’s entrance at the back, you saw Arthur get out of a dark green pick-up truck, sipping a coffee from a travel mug and checking his phone. You decided to wait for him, and waved as he walked up to you. He had told you to dress business casual, so you had on a black polo and a pair of khakis, but looking at him, you felt a little under-dressed. He was wearing a blue button-up, sleeves rolled up, with black slacks and brown Oxford shoes. 

You blinked and quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed you gawking at him. Last time you had seen him, he was in a bright Hawaiian shirt and jeans, looking very casual. You had thought he looked kind of cute at the time.

But right now? He looked hot as fuck.

“There ya are,” he said with a warm smile as he opened the door for you. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the gang.”

***

“Ladies.”

“Heeeeyyyyyy Arthur!”

Three women—well, they seemed more like girls to you— chirped back to him in unison. It was a little eerie how incredibly rehearsed that seemed.

Arthur gestured to each woman in turn. “This here is Karen and Mary-Beth. They’re front staff. Tilly here runs things in the back, since she’s got a good head for numbers, and she bakes too, but we all do whatever’s needed to keep this place runnin’.”

Each of them smiled and nodded at you; they all seemed friendly. You introduced yourself, while Arthur told them about your business background.

“Wow, Tilly’s in school for business!” Mary-Beth said afterwards. “I’m just getting a degree in creative writing. Not sure how much good that’ll do me, but one day I hope I write somethin’ great!”

You appreciated her optimism and positive attitude. And her Southern accent was charming.

“Write an amazin’ play, so I can be in it,” Karen said with a smirk. Then she looked over at you. “I’m a theater major, so there’ll be some times when I won’t be able to come into work.”

You nodded. “So when it’s finals week, do you all have reduced hours?”

“Yeah, Arthur just takes over,” Tilly said.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“I can make coffee,” he grumbled, and the other girls tittered. 

“The guests know it’s finals week when there are no scones,” Tilly said.

You made a mental note to get her recipes so you could keep the scones coming when she was out. 

“Alright everyone, I’m gonna train our new lady, so y’all get back to it.”

“Yes, Arthur!” they all sang. It still seemed odd to you that they did it in unison.

“Are they always in sync like that?” you asked him after they had all gone off to the kitchen to prep for the morning.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, they’ve all been friends since they started college.”

“Oh.” It suddenly occurred to you that you were probably about 10 years older than the girls. Your back twinged, reminding you of your age.

“Now, let’s get started,” Arthur said, distracting you from thoughts. “You know how to make an espresso?”

***

You thought you knew how to make an espresso. But clearly you had to learn his way to making one, which was slow and deliberate. His unhurried method chafed your quick and efficient sensibilities.

However, the result was a smooth, rich, delicious drink, and you couldn’t fault him for that. You figured you’d have to learn some patience.

When Karen and Mary-Beth came back to open up the doors, you helped in any way you could, basically shadowing them for the rest of the morning. When they both headed off to class, Tilly came out to help you for another hour, and when she left for her classes, Arthur came out to help you. 

“How’s it been so far?” he asked when the cafe emptied out and the two of you were cleaning up. You silently hoped that no one would come in during the next thirty minutes before the cafe closed.

“Pretty good! Learning a lot. I haven’t done front of house stuff in so long,” you replied with a laugh.

Arthur chuckled. “You got a natural warmth to ya. I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

You smiled shyly and laughed, a little nervous at how your heart was skipping beats.

He said your name and it sounded like buttered rum, smooth, warm, and sweet. Your throat went a little dry as he leaned towards you.

The jingle of the door opening distracted both of you.

“Hi, welcome!” you said, switching to customer service mode with a warm smile and friendly tone. Arthur was right, it did come naturally to you, to please people, to help make people happy.

You didn’t see Arthur scowl slightly before continuing to clean the counters.

You did, however, notice when he charged the customer just a little extra without him knowing. You didn’t say anything until after the young man had left, just as closing time hit. Arthur went to the door and locked it, turning the sign around to say “Closed.”

“You charged him incorrectly,” you said. 

“Oh. Whoops,” he said, unconvincingly. 

“Arthur!“ 

"He didn’t notice. Besides, he pissed me off.”

“By doing what?" 

Arthur was silent, opting to shrug nonchalantly as he closed the curtains and started cleaning up. You got the feeling that you wouldn’t get an answer out of him, so you just sighed and cleaned up as well. Once everything was put away and clean for the next morning, Arthur locked up and walked you to your car like a gentleman, looking around for anything or anyone that might cause trouble. 

As you reached for your car door, Arthur put his hand on your arm, his fingers caressing your skin, sending a delicious heat through you. 

"You did real good today. Lookin’ forward to workin’ with ya.”

You smiled. “Me too. Just don’t overcharge all your customers,” you said, half-jokingly, taking the sting out of your comment. 

“Only the ones that annoy me.” A half-grin appeared on his face. 

“What did he do?" 

"Talked to you fer too long,” he said, his voice dipping low.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking as he said good night and went to his car. 

***

Somehow, three months went by in the blink of an eye. You learned about the cafe’s customers, got feedback, and started implementing some minor changes that made a difference in how efficiently the place was run. There was less waste and more time to spend on marketing, which brought in more customers. You felt like you were really making a difference; it was infinitely more satisfying than working for a giant corporation. 

In those three months, you had gotten to know your coworkers and boss. The girls really were 10 years younger than you, though sometimes it didn’t feel that way. They were all mature and wonderful to talk to. By now, the four of you had gotten close enough to have a text chat group, and Tilly would occasionally ask you for help with her business class assignments. 

You still refused to chirp along with the girls when they greeted Arthur in the morning, though. Seemed like it was straight out of a sitcom, and you felt embarrassed whenever you thought about doing it. 

And Arthur. Getting to know him had been a bit tough at first. For all of his friendly smiles, he dodged personal questions very well, distracting you with questions if his own, or just vaguely answering you. It seemed he didn’t want to talk about his past, so eventually you let it go. 

When you talked to the other girls about his aversion to speaking about his history, they absolutely confirmed it. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t like to bring it up.”

“Shuts up completely if you push him.”

“Whatever happened in his past, he sure as hell ain’t gonna talk about it.”

Recently though, the girls’ favorite topic was you. Specifically, their observations of Arthur in regards to you. 

On a foggy morning, before Arthur arrived, the four of you huddled around the kitchen oven, waiting for Tilly’s mushroom and kale scones to finish baking. 

“I’m tellin’ you, he’s into you.”

“Nope, not going there,” you said as you went over the inventory sheet on your clipboard. “He’s just a nice guy. He does the same for all of you.”

“There’s a difference when it’s you,” Mary-Beth insisted. “His tone is softer, and he stands closer to you.”

“And he brings you lunch sometimes. He doesn’t do that for any of us,” Tilly casually mentioned. 

“You girls usually aren’t here for lunch!” you responded, a little exasperated. 

They all laughed and kept pointing out little things that Arthur did for you and you alone, as you kept denying that it was anything more than just a simple kindness. 

But just a little bit, they got into your head. 

Right at 6AM, as per usual, the door opened. 

“Mornin’ ladies.”

“Heeeeeeyy Arthur!” the girls greeted. 

“Good morning!” you replied separately. 

Arthur’s eyes met yours with a warmth that filled you from head to toe, and gave you a smile that made your heart stutter. He said your name in greeting, his voice low and soft like velvet caressing your skin. 

Then the moment was gone as he went to his office and shut the door. 

The girls looked at you, a knowing smile on their faces. 

“See? He’s definitely into you.”

This time, you couldn’t even deny it. 

***

Another month had passed since you finally thought that maybe, just maybe, Arthur might potentially have some slight interest in you. 

For fuck’s sake, who the hell were you kidding? 

This past month had been sheer torture, as each time the two of you were alone, he’d sidle up to you and ask how you were doing and encourage you to talk to him. He’d brush a hand against yours, or lightly touch your shoulder, or if he was feeling bold that day, he’d say “c’mon, bring it in,” and open his arms for a hug before leaving for the day. 

Of course, you hugged him back. Arthur hugs were big bear hugs, his arms wrapping securely around you as he squeezed you close. They were the best. 

And you were pretty sure he knew you weren’t going to say no to any physical contact. You slowly became addicted to his touch, nearly jumping into his arms whenever he opened them. He didn’t touch you so openly when the other girls were around, but he stood close by so you could feel the heat coming off in waves from his body. 

Every day, you told yourself you’d stop inviting his touch. And every day, you let him get closer and closer to you. Like a spider weaving his web, wrapping his threads of warmth and desire around you, he’d give you little smiles and tease you gently throughout the day, making you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the new teacher. It didn’t help that you had a bit of a thing for a man in a position of power over you who happened to be kind and paying you a lot of attention, for that was exactly what Arthur was doing.

You had a feeling your boss kink was going to be the end of your career. But at the end of every day, when you said good night and saw the heat simmering in his eyes as you left, you wondered if it’d be worth it.

***

“Does Arthur hug you girls when you leave for the day?”

Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth all gave you varying looks of disbelief.

“No, he never gets that close to us. He even apologies if he accidentally brushes my arm as he’s walking past,” Mary-Beth said. Tilly & Karen just nodded when you looked at them for confirmation.

“Arthur’s got a crush on you,” Karen teased in a sing-song tone as she waggled her eyebrows. “He’s never been very touchy-feely with any of us.”

“That’s because he sees us as his little sisters,” Tilly said, matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” Mary-Beth raised an eyebrow at her.

“He told me, one night when we were closing the cafe, during that first year.” Tilly measured some flour for the scones and gently added it to the mixer. “He said he was grateful we all were here to help when he inherited the place. Hamish told us we didn’t have to stay, but Arthur was so lost, we couldn’t leave him. Said we were like his family.”

“Awww!” you exclaimed, warmed by the thought of Arthur saying something so sweet.

“So, you thinkin’ about accepting his advances?” Karen asked all of a sudden.

The change in topic was like whiplash in your head. You had to blink a few times before what she said finally sank in. It took a few extra moments to come up with an answer.

“That doesn’t seem very professional—”

The door opened. 6AM, on the dot.

“Ladies.”

“Heeeeey Arthur!”

You sighed quietly to yourself before plastering on your game face and got ready for the rest of the day.

***

That night, as you swept the floor, you were lost in thought. What Karen had said, about accepting Arthur’s advances; weren’t you basically doing that?

You were thinking so hard that you didn’t notice that Arthur had closed all the blinds and come up to you while you were sweeping the corner of the room. You looked up just as he put a hand on the wall in front of you, stopping your progress and literally cornering you. 

“Penny for yer thoughts?" 

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks as you saw how close he was, forcing you to look up at him. He leaned down a little, his eyes flickering to your lips as they parted, your small intake of breath more telling than anything you could have said.

“Just spacing out, that’s all.”

A bit of worry crept into his expression. “You feelin’ alright? Have I been workin’ ya too hard?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

He smiled. “That you are, sweetheart.” He slowly reached out to hold your hands in his, gently took the broom from your hands and set it aside. Then he took another step closer to you. Leaning in, he caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Real fine.”

“Ar-Arthur, we can’t.”

“Why not?” He shifted nearer.

“Because I work for you!”

“I wouldn’t force ya. If you’re not attracted to me, then say so and I’ll back off. No consequences, I promise.” He said the last part with a sincerity that you believed. Then he leaned in to graze your earlobe with his lips. “But I think you are.”

You let out a small whimper of need from his touch. He softly cradled your face in one hand as he reached around to splay his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer until you were flush with his warm body.

“Last chance, sweetheart.”

You were silent, staring into his eyes, your body melting against his.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered against your lips before he kissed you. You could feel him pour all of the desire he had been holding back into his kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he held the back of your neck and wrapped his other arm tighter around you. 

You wrapped your arms around him in return, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him closer to you, desperate for more of his touch. He pinned you to the wall, pressing his entire body against yours as he stole your breath, took your moans as his hands reached down and stroked your curves, brushing close but not quite touching your breasts. His hands traveled to your hips, and he squeezed with his fingers.

“I want more.” He pulled back. “I want you in my office.”

He had the look of a starving man, and you were his first meal in days. He wanted to take you, consume you, devour you.

You nodded.

Smiling, Arthur took your hand and led you to his office.

***

“Always wanted to do this,” he murmured as he lifted you up onto his desk, his hands sliding your skirt up your thighs. His fingers made their way to your panties, where he rubbed you slowly, feeling the damp fabric and smirking. “Feels like you want this too.”

You nodded, unable to verbally admit that this had been a fantasy of yours lately, a fantasy that you may have jilled off to on several occasions. 

His fingers pulled your panties aside as he touched you intimately for the first time. You let out a sigh of pure ecstasy as he caressed your core.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just enjoy it.”

Then he kissed you once more, stealing your breath as he coaxed your tongue to play with his, the two of you making out with a frenzied passion you hadn’t felt in a long time. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck and held you still as he kept fingering you, driving you higher and higher.

“Take yer shirt off,” he commanded. “I want to see all of you.”

You quickly unbuttoned your blouse and tossed it aside. Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra and flung it away as well. Arthur pulled back to admire your body, a look of admiration on his face.

“Beautiful,” he breathed before he went straight for your breasts, grabbing one of them and teasing the nipple while he took the other into his mouth, sucking and licking you. All the while, he was still stroking your core, building your pleasure up more and more.

The increased sensation to your body was enough to drag you to the brink. You held onto his hair with one hand, grabbing his wrist with the other and pushing his fingers harder against your clit as he stood up straight to tower over you.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

You broke apart, burying your face into his shirt as you moaned wantonly, your legs shaking as he pressed his fingers heavily against your center, rubbing in circles.

“That’s it, good girl,” he crooned.

Catching your breath, you watched him grin and pull back long enough to unbutton his fly. Pulling out his manhood, he stepped back to you, touching the inside of your thighs. You spread your legs and smiled up at him.

“Guide me in.”

You reached out and grasped the velvet steel of his cock, stroking it twice so you could watch him let out a soft moan before you pulled him into your waiting entrance. He leaned forward, his hand cradling your cheek as he pushed himself inside of you, never breaking eye contact as you felt him stretch you.

“Oh my god, this feels so good,” you whimpered.

“Sure does,” he said in a hushed tone. “Better than my fantasies.”

When he finally hilted inside you, he leaned in and kissed you. Then he pulled out and slammed back into you, making you cry out in surprise.

And that set the tone for his passionate fucking, gripping your hips so he wouldn’t smash the desk as he took you with his powerful thrusts. He groaned against your neck when you grabbed at his clothed back as you succumbed to his unrelenting pace.

“I want you bent over my desk.”

He pulled out and manhandled you until you were bent over his desk, your ass in the air.

“Perfect,” he growled as he slid back inside of you and rammed into you again and again. “Yer so hot like this.”

Then he leaned over you, and said lowly in your ear. “You like it when your boss fucks you?”

Oh shit. He knew your kink. You moaned uncontrollably and nodded, feeling your pussy clench around his cock. He smirked, knowing how you had reacted to his words.

“Say it.”

“I like it when my boss fucks me.”

“Call me Mr. Morgan.”

“Yes, Mr. Morgan.”

“Good,” he purred, and reached down to stroke your core. “My best employee deserves a reward, don’tcha?”

“Yes, please!”

“Beg for a reward, sweetheart,”

“Please, Mr. Morgan, please give me a reward!”

He stood up and slowed his pace, but the intensity of his thrusts remained, the sound of his hips against your ass echoing in the small office.

“I’ll give you what you want.” He grabbed your hair and pulled. “I know exactly what you need.”

You felt his hand grab your shoulder as he suddenly fucked you hard and fast. The only warning you had was when his grip tightened on you before he let out a harsh moan and a string of expletives as he emptied himself inside of you, pushing his cock as deep as he could go, huffing as he finished.

“Fuck, that was… that was amazin’.” He picked you up and sat back in his chair, you on his lap, his cock still inside of you. He idly caressed your breasts as you both caught your breaths. When he finally slipped out from you, he laughed.

“Guess we should clean up,” he mumbled. You leaned your head back against his shoulder and nodded.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“You alright?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright. Better than alright.” You turned your head and kissed him on his stubbled cheek. “I’m glad I took this job.”

He chuckled, nuzzling you. “So am I.”

——————–

End Notes: This… got way longer than I intended. Oh well! Hope you enjoyed the ride!

[lucacangettathisass]

how the light gets in (ch. 9)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

check the fic tag for previous chapters!

TAGGING: @mountainhymn @kindred-hopes if you would like to be added to the tag list lmk!

NOTES: happy new year everyone!...and a little over a month since the last update LMAO this chapter is a long one so hopefully that makes up for it! just wanted to say thank you again for all the kind words and support y’all have shown! it really is so heartwarming and encouraging and is just genuinely lovely to see! anyways hope you all enjoy this one!

In the week that followed your meeting with Mr Van Der Linde and Mr Matthews, you remained inside with the other women, doing a bit of talking, but mostly listening, and learning what they were willing to share about themselves. When you were a child you learned that most people enjoyed talking about themselves in one way or another. Just make sure to listen and at least seem interested, and you could learn all sorts of things that you could later use to create a deeper relationship, and that was what you were doing with the women.

Despite your earlier shyness and anxieties, you found yourself enjoying their company, and while you couldn’t confidently say that you were all friends, you hoped that they would grow to see you as one.

In particular, you had grown rather fond of Miss Roberts. She reminded you of Sadie in a way; both were strong and resilient women, bold and brave. Every quality you ever felt like you lacked, you saw them wield with expertise, and it awed you just as much as it made you envious.

You also saw some glimpses of your mother in Miss Roberts, as both had been young mothers in undesirable circumstances. Admittedly Miss Roberts had a wider circle of support than what your mother had, even with your aunt and uncle, and Jack’s father was still in the picture, but the similarities were very much there. You found yourself wanting to befriend Miss Roberts, and lift some of her burdens, in a way that you couldn’t have done for your mother when you were a child.

“I’ll tend to Mr Marston today.” You said to her. “You should rest and try to take your mind off things.” You knew that that was of course far easier said than done, but you hoped that not having to see Mr Marston’s injuries would do her some good. In truth, you didn’t really know what Miss Roberts and Mr Marston got up to when she went to see him, but it didn’t always seem to be pleasant, as Miss Roberts would sometimes return looking upset.

Yesterday had been one of those days, so you imagined that Miss Roberts wouldn’t exactly be eager to be by Mr Marston’s side, and you had turned out to be right.

As you made your way to the mens’ house, you found the snow to be easier to navigate through, softer somehow, although you couldn’t pinpoint why, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

When you entered, you smiled at them all. You hadn’t spoken to all of them yet, Herr Strauss had remained the friendliest out of them all, although Mr Escuella wasn’t trailing too far behind. It was nice knowing that you had established something of a rapport with the two men, it made you feel more comfortable among everyone.

You gently approached Mr Marston, sitting in the chair by his bed. Someone, you guessed either Miss Roberts or Miss Grimshaw, had set up a small medical station with extra bandages, disinfectant, and a face cloth. It was by no means sophisticated, but you didn’t expect nor needed it to be. You looked over at Mr Marston and smiled at him.

“Did you sleep well Mr Marston?”

He didn’t immediately answer, and for a moment you were afraid that he was in a bad mood. “Fine.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, smiling. “I’m happy to hear it.” You inspected his face for anything of concern, as you have before. Just as your fingertips went over his scar, you felt Mr Marston shiver and you immediately stopped. “Is everything alright Mr Marston?” You asked. “Are my hands cold?” You brought your hands to your face and winced when you found that they were a little chilly. “Sorry.” You said sheepishly. “I should’ve thought about that.”

“It...it’s fine.” Mr Marston looked away. “It was colder out there.”

Of that you had no doubt. You got to work redressing his wound, taking care not to cause him any more discomfort. “Jack is doing well.” You said, in an attempt to make conversation. “He’s a very good boy, you must be very proud.” Mr Marston grunted. “I would be if he were mine.”

You stopped completely, looking up at Mr Marston in surprise. “Oh! I-My apologies, it’s just-well, Miss Roberts-”

Marston snorted. “She wants him to be mine, but I’m sure he ain’t.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say. You assumed that Mr Marston would know whether or not a child was his, but why Miss Roberts would specifically name him as Jack’s father was beyond you. Well, no matter. That wasn’t your business, so you weren’t going to worry about it.

“You’re uh...you’re good at this.”

You smiled, blushing at the sudden compliment. “Thank you, I’ve had practice.” You gently re-applied the bandage on his face. “Although, I must say, your wounds are worse than others I’ve seen.”

Mr Marston snorted. “Don’t imagine you see a lot of this with rich folks.”

You pause, and glance over your shoulder at Mr Escuella. You had suspected that he would tell the rest of the men what you had shared with Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, and Mr Morgan, but you hadn’t expected to be questioned about it so bluntly.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” You admitted. “I doubt any of them would be brave enough to venture out into the mountains in these conditions.”

A look of surprise comes over Mr Marston, although you couldn’t say what he was surprised about. His mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. “You know, you’re alright for a girl raised by rich folks.”

You blinked. “I...Thank you Mr Marston.” It certainly sounded like a compliment, although a rather confusing one. But then, you imagined that he didn’t have a high opinion of ‘rich folks’. You gently discarded the soiled bandages before looking over Mr Marston one last time. “We should really get you to a proper doctor.” You muttered with a sigh. You knew a number of fine doctors, all of whom would be able to give Mr Marston the treatment he needed, but you had no way of contacting them. And even if you did, you doubted any of them would come out all this way for an outlaw, no matter their condition.

“I’ll be fine.” Mr Marston said dismissively. “I’ve faced worse without one.”

You furrowed your brow, wondering what on Earth could be worse than this, but you knew better than to pry. You stood up, giving Mr Marston one last smile. “I’ll check on you again in a few days.”

Mr Marston nodded, looking down. “Th….thanks.”

You looked at Mr Marston in surprise, but smiled all the same. “You’re welcome Mr Marston.” You gave each of the men a smile as you left, feeling a new lightness in your step.

When you stepped outside, you almost slipped, before righting yourself at just the last second. You stood up properly and looked down at patch of snow that had given way beneath your foot, and saw that it had turned into sludge, almost like dirt after a heavy rain. Your heart began to race and noticed that the usually biting winds that had been keeping you all company had finally decided to leave. You walked as carefully as you could back to the house with the other women, watching as the snow offered much less resistance than usual.

“How is he?” Miss Roberts asked after you had shut the door behind yourself.

“Fine.” You replied, turning to all the women. “And I think we will be too.” You smiled widely.

“What makes you say that?” Miss Jackson asked.

“Everything’s starting to thaw.”

You could almost see and feel a weight being lifted off everyone, as excited looks were passed around and you sat beside Sadie. “Looks like we’ll be off this mountain soon.” You said eagerly.

Sadie nodded. “Regardless of where we end up, I want you to stay close to me.” She said in a low voice. “I don’t want you out of my sight for a second.”

You could only nod, you were too excited at the prospect of going back to civilization to argue.

-

Funnily and luckily enough, the thaw had come in just days before Mr Cornwall’s train was set to pass through the mountains, allowing Mr Van Der Linde to go through his plan. And while he and the men he would take with him were doing that, the rest of you would pack everything up, ready to leave as soon as the men got back.

Of course, Mr Morgan was chosen to go along with the job, which meant once again riding Gladys, an idea she clearly still didn’t like.

“She’s probably still trying to adjust to all of the changes.” You said as you firmly held her reins, trying to calm her. “It isn’t like her to have this much of an attitude.”

Mr Morgan grunted. “Well, if I were her, I wouldn’t want to have me in the saddle either.”

You frowned, unsure as to what he was getting at.

“Why are we doing this?”

You turned around and saw Mr Matthews approaching Mr Van Der Linde, who was also saddling up.

“Weather’s breaking, we could leave.” You could hear the worry in his voice, and it was painfully obvious that he was skeptical of Mr Van Der Linde’s plan. “I-I thought we was lying low.”

“What do you want from me Hosea?” Mr Van Der Linde asked back, sounding equally exasperated.

“I just don’t want any more folks to die, Dutch.”

You frowned and looked away. You could definitely empathize with that.

“We’re living, Hosea, we’re living…” Mr Van Der Linde turned to the older man, “look at me, we’re living...even you.”

You frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

“But we need money, everything we have’s in Blackwater. You fancy heading back there?”

“No.” Mr Matthews still didn’t sound convinced, and you pitied him. “Listen, Dutch, I ain’t trying to undermine you, I just…” He sighed heavily. “I just want to stick to the plan...which was to lie low, then head back out west. Now suddenly, we’re about to rob a train.”

You exchanged a glance with Gladys, who also seemed to be interested in what Mr Matthews had to say. It wasn’t a bad idea, and from what you had heard, the western territories hadn’t seen as much development, it would be easy for someone to disappear out there. Possibly even a whole gang.

“What choice have we got?”

Mr Matthews sighed again. “Leviticus Cornwall’s no joke, Dutch…” He looked up, and saw you. “You heard what [Name] said.” He gestured to you. “He’s powerful, rich, and has a fragile ego. He isn’t the sort of mark you want to go after lightly.”

Immediately you felt your face flush, and you tried to hide behind Gladys, who seemed to have sensed your discomfort and took a few steps forward, shielding you from the mens’ gazes.

“It also sounds like he has more than enough to share.” Mr Van Der Linde said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Dutch-”

“Gentlemen, it is time to make something of ourselves.” Mr Van Der Linde called out, prompting some of the other men to run out to their horses. “Get your horses ready, we have a train to rob.”

Still holding onto Gladys’s reins, you kept her steady as Mr Morgan mounted her. “Behave yourself.” You muttered to Gladys. “I don’t want to hear any complaints from Mr Morgan.”

She huffed, as if offended by the idea of accommodating Mr Morgan in any way.

You stepped back, giving Mr Morgan room to turn Gladys around. “Good luck.” You said anxiously. “Be careful.”

Mr Morgan nodded. “‘Preciate it.” He said, turning away to ride off behind Mr Van Der Linde with the other men.

You watched them all go, hoping that Mr Matthews’ concerns would come to fruition. You turned to face the older man, who still looked troubled. “Are you alright Mr Matthews?” You asked gently.

“As alright as I can be.” He said with a sigh.

You gently placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” You said with a smile. “And as long as no one is able to recognize them, then there won’t be any trouble, right?”

Mr Matthews still appears unsure. “I suppose.” He sighed again. “I’m just getting too old for this kind of life I think, but it’s good of you to care.”

“Of course, it’s the least I can do, considering everything you all have done for Sadie and I.”

Mr Matthews smiled a little. “That’s very sweet of you.” He patted your arm and gave you a kind look. “Would you mind checking up on John? Just to make sure he’s ok and ready to go when we need to.”

You nodded. “Of course Mr Matthews.” You made your way to the house, a little more confident walking in the partially thawed snow. 

When you opened the door, you were surprised to see Mr Marston on his feet, putting on a jacket. “Mr Marston!” You squeaked, rushing to him. “What are you doing? You need to rest!”

“I’ve rested enough.” He grunted. “I should be out there too, robbing that train.”

“Mr Marston please sit down you’re not in any state to do anything like that.” You gently held his arm. “Mr Van Der Linde has more than enough men to help him.”

“I should still be out there.” Mr Marston gently took his arm out of your grasp and took a step forward, wincing as he did so.

“Mr Marston please.” You quickly stood in front of him, stopping him from moving. “You’re clearly still in pain. I implore you, go back to bed. The more you rest, the faster you getter better, and the sooner you can help Mr Van Der Linde.” You kept your tone as gentle and kind as possible, not wanting to further wound Mr Marston’s clearly aching pride. “Please. For your own sake.”

Mr Marston stared down at you, dumb founded. He seemed to be genuinely surprised that you were this concerned. He looked like he was about to argue, but his bad leg began to wobble and he winced, falling back to sit on the cot. He sighed irritably. “Looks like you’re right. I’m no use to anyone right now.” He took off the jacket, angrily throwing it to the ground.

You frowned, feeling bad for him. You couldn’t imagine how upset he must be, seeing all the other able bodied men go off on such a daring job. You carefully picked the jacket up, folding it up gently and placing it on the seat beside his cot.”You just need to get your strength back.” You said kindly. “You’ll see, you’ll be fighting fit in no time!” You smiled encouragingly, hoping that some of this was working, even if only a little bit.

After a brief pause, Mr Marston chuckled. “Javier was right.” He looked up at you, with a small smile. “You really are too nice for us.”

You blushed a little, not entirely sure  what to make of that. “I don’t know about that.” You said, embarrassed. “You’ve all been kind to Sadie and I, it’s only fair I return the favour.” You cleared your throat. “Now, please Mr Marston, get back into bed, and I won’t tell Mr Matthews about this.”

Mr Marston chuckled again. “Alright alright, ya twisted my arm.” He lay back down on the cot, using both hands to lift his bad leg up and onto it.

You heaved a sigh of relief and smiled. “How’s that wound of yours?” You moved closer to this side to properly inspect it.

Mr Marston waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine, I just need to…” He sighed heavily. “Wallow in self pity for a little longer.”

You hummed. “I’m familiar with that feeling.” You said softly with a small smile. “And if anyone here is entitled to feeling like that then it’s definitely you. You went through a lot out there.”

Mr Marston snorted. “I wouldn’t say that. I just…” He trailed off, and you waited for him to finish. But instead he sighed and turned away. “You go on and help everyone else. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You bit your bottom lip, reluctant to leave. But it was what he wanted, and you had to respect that. “Just think, before long, we’ll be warm again.” You said brightly as you left. “At least then it’ll be far more pleasant for you in bed.”

You thought you heard a soft chuckle as you closed the door, but you couldn’t be sure.

-

That night, most of the men returned from the train-most, because Mr Morgan had been notably absent, on account of him being left to deal with the remaining train guards and send the train back on it’s way.

The robbery had been very successful, producing a number of expensive items, stacks of money, and best of all, bearer bonds. You had no doubt that Mr Van Der Linde and Mr Matthews would be able to find a buyer for them.

It wasn’t until the next day, when Mr Morgan finally returned with Gladys, that you were all able to finally leave Colter.

You heaved a sigh of relief when you saw Mr Morgan return and allowed herself to smile. Your smile grew when Gladys trotted over to you the second Mr Morgan was off her, clearly not wanting to spend any more time with him.

“You’re going to have to learn how to deal with him.” You reminded her when she nudged your shoulder. You gave her a face a quick stroke before going back to loading up one of the wagons. Or, at least, trying to. You were trying to stack a crate into the back of one of the covered wagons, but it was becoming very clear very quickly that you were sorely lacking when it came to upper body strength.

“Hey, lemme help with that.”

You jumped, surprised, and turned to see one of the men approach you. He was large, larger than Mr Morgan, with a thick dark brown beard and a heavy brown coat. You had seen him join Mr Van Der Linde on the train robbery, and while the two of you hadn’t been formally introduced yet, by going through the process of elimination, you guessed that it was Mr Williamson. “Thank you.” You said. “Mr Williamson right?”

He nodded, looking a little surprised. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well it’s very kind of you to help me Mr Williamson.” You crouched, digging your hands under one end of the crate so that you had a good grip on it. “You can take the other side.”

“I don’t mind taking the whole thing.”

You shook your head. “I insist Mr Williamson. We’re all supposed to help, and I would feel bad if I left you to do this by yourself.”

Mr Williamson gave you a strange look, but he conceded and took hold of the other end of the crate, lifting it with extreme ease, and putting it into the wagon without you really having to do anything. “Thank you.” You said. “You’re very strong Mr Williamson.”

Mr Williamson’s face was red, most likely from the cold. “It-it’s nothin’.” He cleared his throat. “We should uh, get the rest of this done.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

The two of you were able to fill up the wagon quickly, although of course you would attribute that to Mr Williamson’s far superior strength. By the end of it you smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you so much Mr Williamson! I really do appreciate the help.”

Mr Williamson looked down and cleared his throat. “It uh...it ain’t nothin’.”

“[Name]!”

You and Mr Williamson both jumped, turning to see Sadie staring both of you down. “We need you for something [Name].”

“Coming Sadie!” You turned to Mr Williamson and smiled. “Thank you again Mr Williamson.” You took hold Gladys’s reins and lead her with you as you made your way to Sadie. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Hitch Gladys to this wagon.” She said. “Then you can help load it.”

You did as you were told, and you were relieved to see that Gladys needed little encouragement to behave and was actually doing what was asked of her for once. After that, you helped her and some of the other women load up the wagon, thankfully with things that were much easier to lift. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that Mr Smith and Miss Roberts were helping Mr Marston into another covered wagon. You winced a little at the way Mr Marston moved, he was clearly still in a lot of pain and you felt horrible for him.

‘We’ll be off the mountain soon.’ You kept telling yourself. ‘And then he can get proper help.’

Within the hour you were all on your way down from the mountain, away from Colter, back to civilization. You sat with the other ladies in the wagon that Gladys was helping to pull, with Miss Grimsahw at the reins.

“Can’t wait until we’re warm again.” Miss Jackson said with a shiver. “Won’t be keeping myself awake with my teeth chattering.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Miss Jones said teasingly, causing the rest of you to laugh.

You sat across from Miss Roberts and Jack, both of whom looked equal parts excited and anxious, especially Jack. You smiled kindly at them and leaned forward to put a hand on Miss Roberts’s knee. “Once we’re down from the mountain we can take Mr Marston to a proper doctor.” You said softly. “And he can get the proper help he needs.”

Miss Roberts sighed. “I hope so.” She stroked her son’s hair tenderly, smiling down at him before looking up at you. “I wanted to thank you for helping to take care of him. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.” You said kindly. “After everything you all have done for Sadie and I, it’s the absolute least I could’ve done.” You smiled widely at her. “And even if I didn’t know any of you, I still would’ve done it.”

The other women seemed surprised to hear that, and exchanged glances.

“You really are too kind.” Miss Roberts said, trying to smile back despite how tired and haggard she is.

In this lighting, she truly could’ve been your mother, and it made you squeeze her knee again. “We’ll be ok.” You said.

(A part of you pretended that you truly were saying that to your mother. You didn’t think she heard it enough when she was still around.)

[wistfulcynic]

On What They Fall: Epilogue

Lovely, lovely members of the CS fandom: To say that the response to this fic has been overwhelming is an understatement. Your reblog notes and AO3 comments and messages have actually brought tears to my eyes. Thank you all, so much. Somehow the little three-sentence note I wrote on my phone late one night has grown into the angsty, secret-love story I’ve been trying to write for some time and never quite managed until now. A HUGE PORTION of the credit for that must go to @thisonesatellite who pushes me and encourages me and sometimes drags me kicking and screaming in the direction she thinks things should go, and she is NEVER WRONG which is so annoying but also immensely valuable. She remains the VERY BEST. 

In this chapter we have the happy ending. That is all. 

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion.

Everyone but Emma Swan.

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too.

Part 9 of Secret Things.

Rated: T

On AO3 and chapters 1, 2, and 3 on Tumblr  

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu @jennjenn615 @superchocovian

Epilogue: 

He’s dreaming of Emma again. She’s on his boat this time, standing at the railing gazing out at the stormy sea as wind whips her hair around her. She wears nothing but a shirt he recognises as his, her long legs bare and pale in the moonlight. He approaches slowly, knowing that this won’t last. His dreams of her never do. The moment he reaches out to touch her she’ll be gone. 

He moves towards her anyway, he can’t help it, he’s always been drawn to her. Awake or asleep makes no difference. He holds his breath as he reaches out, dreading the moment she dissolves into mist, leaving him empty and alone as ever. 

But she doesn’t. His hands glide over warm skin and she turns to smile at him as the wind blows her hair across his face. It tickles his nose. 

He rubs the tickle away, groaning a protest as he feels consciousness encroach. He’s not ready to leave this dream, not yet. Not ready to let Emma go. 

Emma. His nose is tickled again and he rubs it harder. He can smell honeysuckle and cinnamon and sex and his arms are full of something so, so soft. 

He opens his eyes and blinks them rapidly, for a moment wondering if he’s still in his dream. But no, the blonde hair tickling his nose is real and the woman in his arms is Emma, sound asleep and snoring softly, her back nestled against his front and completely naked. 

So is he. Killian nuzzles his nose in the crook of Emma’s neck and breathes deeply as memories of the previous night come flooding back. A night like none other he’s ever experienced. He’s had a lot of sex but never before made love, and while he feels a bit silly making that distinction he can’t deny the truth of it, or that it was a far different act last night with Emma than with any of the other women he’s known. And he has always, always woken up alone. 

He strokes his hand over Emma’s hip and down her thigh but she doesn’t stir. She’s a deep sleeper, he thinks, and feels a thrill at the knowledge. There is so much he’s looking forward to discovering about her. 

He presses a kiss just below her ear and eases out of the bed, careful not to jostle her. She mumbles something that sounds like too damn early and rolls onto her stomach, throwing her arm over the pillow and burying her face in it. He grins as he pulls on his jeans and grabs his phone, and heads into the kitchen to make some coffee.  

As it brews he calls Belle. She answers on the first ring and his grin widens. She was expecting him to call yesterday. 

“Killian,” she says eagerly. “What news?”

“I talked to Emma.” 

“And? What did she say?” 

“Many things that were hard for me to hear. But I needed to hear them. And—”

“And?” 

“She said she loves me.” Just speaking those words aloud sends joy surging through him. He still can’t quite believe all this is real, though he is beginning to, and his joy is chased by a flutter of fear. This level of happiness is going to take some getting used to, he suspects. He imagines it will be some time before he stops waiting for it to be snatched away from him. 

“And??” encourages Belle. “What did you say?” 

“Eh, I told her thanks but she’s not really my type.”

“Killian!” 

“I told her I love her too, of course,” he laughs. “I told her everything.” 

“Everything everything?” 

“All of it.” He doesn’t elaborate but he knows Belle understands. “That was yesterday afternoon and she’s, ah, still here.” He rubs at that spot on his neck, the one just behind his ear that always tingles when he’s embarrassed. Odd, he thinks, he’s never been bashful about Belle knowing who he slept with before. 

“Good.” There’s a hint of tears in Belle’s voice. “I’m so proud of you, Killian. Don’t let her go again.”

“I won’t,” he says, and it’s a vow. 

He hears a faint footfall behind him and seconds later slender arms wind around his waist and a soft body presses against his back. Lips brush light kisses across his shoulder blades and he sighs. “Belle, I have to go,” he says. 

“Of course,” she replies. “Tell Emma I said hi.” 

“I will.” He hangs up the phone and turns around, cups Emma’s face in his hands and kisses her. “Good morning,” he says. 

“Morning.” Her hair is mussed and her eyes still hazy with sleep. She’s so beautiful she steals his breath, and he kisses her again. He’d happily spend the rest of his life kissing her. 

“Mmm,” she says as her arms twine around his neck. “Do I smell coffee?” 

“You do. Would you like some?” 

“I definitely would,” she murmurs, but makes no move to release him. Her lips find his again, open and inviting. He pulls her closer, his hand sneaking under the hem of her shirt —his shirt, just like in his dream— to find her bare beneath it. He groans and backs her up against the kitchen island, plundering her mouth as his hand slides higher. When it encounters metal, warmed by her skin, it stops. 

He pulls back and so does she, looking up at him with wary, hopeful eyes. He brushes aside the placket of the shirt to reveal a pendant on a long chain, nestled between her breasts. A very familiar pendant. 

“I didn’t see this last night,” he says, in a voice rough with emotion.

“I wasn’t wearing it then. I had it in my pocket. Yesterday was the first time I haven’t worn it around my neck in—” 

“Five years?” he finishes for her. 

“Yeah.” Her smile is faintly embarrassed. 

He kisses her softly, rests his forehead against hers and runs his fingers through her hair. “How would you like to go sailing later?” he asks. 

She looks surprised at the non sequitur. “Really?”

“Aye. It’s supposed to be calm seas today.” 

“And you still have your boat? Even though you— well, live on land now?” 

“Of course I still have my boat. I couldn’t get rid of her, she’s the love of my life.”

Emma’s eyebrows rise. “Is she?” 

“Aye.” He grins. “Along with you, obviously.” 

“Oh, obviously.” 

He pulls her back into his embrace and she snuggles against him with a happy sigh that makes his heart soar. “So what do you say, Swan?” he says, low in her ear. “A picnic on the boat for lunch?”

“Sounds wonderful.” 

—

When they arrive at his mooring Killian takes her hand and guides her around to the front of the boat, positions her at the end of the jetty and stands there, grinning, his eyebrows dancing a jig on his forehead. 

“What?” she asks. 

“Exercise your powers of observation, Swan,” he says, with extra emphasis on her name. 

“What am I missing?” She looks around then back at Killian standing in front of his boat, right next to where the name is painted in large bold lettering and— oh. Emma’s mouth drops open and she feels tears begin to gather in her eyes. 

“You named your boat for me?” she whispers. 

“Aye,” he says gently. “You’re not the only one who’s clung to mementos these five years.” 

“Oh, Killian.” She launches herself into his arms, buries her face in his neck. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he replies, cradling her close. It’s a long time before they pull apart. 

—

They sail out towards the Atlantic until the land is just a slim sliver on the horizon, a faint line of grey between the blues of sea and sky. Killian adjusts the sails to let the boat drift while Emma spreads a blanket on the deck and lays their picnic on it.

It’s not much as picnics go, just peanut butter sandwiches and apple slices and a thermos of hot chocolate, but they devour it hungrily.

“Why does this taste so good?” Emma asks around a mouthful of apple. 

“There’s something about the sea that sharpens the appetite,” Killian replies. “Which is handy when all you’ve got to eat is fish.” 

“I bet.” She gives him a sympathetic smile as she grabs another sandwich. Someday, he thinks, he’ll tell her about the difficult times he experienced in his years of travelling. But not today. 

“So you never told me how long you’re staying,” he says, as casually as he can manage. 

“I have two weeks off work,” she replies, licking peanut butter off her thumb. “But…” She glances at him, looking hesitant. 

“But what?” he encourages. 

“But I was thinking. About what you said yesterday.” 

“I said quite a few things yesterday.” 

“What you said about my job. And how I used to want to be a social worker.”

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. And you were right, I did want that. I’d forgotten how passionate I used to be about women’s advocacy, and my job— I like it well enough but it’s never been what I really wanted to do with my life. So I was thinking.” She pauses again as she sips some chocolate, her fingers toying nervously with the cup of the thermos. 

“What were you thinking, love?” 

She takes a deep breath.“I was thinking I might apply to grad school,” she says, all in a rush. “Here. In New York.” 

Killian’s heart lodges in his throat. “Do you mean that?” 

“Yeah.”

“What about your family? Storybrooke?” 

“I’m twenty-six, I can’t live at home forever. My parents will survive. As for Storybrooke—” She shrugs. “It’s not your place. And I want to be with you.” 

His love for her engulfs him like a storm surge, nearly overwhelms him with its force. He leans across the picnic blanket and kisses her, harder than he intended but she doesn’t seem to mind, kissing him back with a fervour equal to his own. She tastes of peanut butter and chocolate and home. 

 She grabs the collar of his jacket to pull him closer and they overbalance, tumbling onto the deck in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Killian rolls onto his back and Emma sprawls across his chest, still laughing as she cups his face in her hand, tracing the thin scar on his cheek with her thumb. “You know,” she says, “If I do go to school here I’ll need a place to stay.” 

“My love,” he breathes. “You can stay with me as long as you need. Stay forever.” 

“Forever.” Emma smiles. “That might be nearly long enough.” 

[theskyeandsea]

Shifty Strangers || Ulfric & Skylar

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf

Location: Coffee Plus

Notes: While fueling up on coffee, Ulfric sniffs out another shifter in White Crest.

Ulfric wasn’t usually the type to frequent coffee shops, but after a long restless night of impromptu guard duty he needed some kind of pick-me-up to get through the day’s appointments at the parlor. It wouldn’t end well if he fell asleep with a needle in his hand. The line that waited for him inside Coffee Plus was both a curse and blessing. The former because the longer he had to wait the higher his chances of dozing off on the spot, the latter because it meant a higher chance of avoiding Celeste until she left for work. Though even if she did chances were her scent would still be waiting for him. After just one night, and even with his senses dulled so close to the new moon, it seemed everything in his trailer was contaminated with hunter stench. Hints of it even clung to him somehow, despite the copious amounts febreze he’d sprayed all over himself as soon as he left. 

Taking a spot at the end of the line, Ulfric caught wind of another scent that pulled him out of his funk about his own acquired funk. It radiated from the young woman in front of him, reminding him of the ocean and… blue gatorade? But there was a familiar animalistic undercurrent that provided an instant jolt to his awareness that no coffee could hope to achieve. Not a wolf, but close enough to be comforting after the strange series of events he’d just been through. “Hey,” He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, using the beat before she turned around to face him to scramble together an excuse to talk to her. “Uh... would you recommend anything off the menu here? I’d usually only just go for a black coffee. I’m a creature of habit, you know how it is. But sometimes a change can be nice, right? I feel like trying something different before my shift.” It wasn’t the best or most subtle icebreaker, but hey, he was tired, and if she caught on maybe he could warn her about the beast hunters that were circling over White Crest like vultures. Or at least, he could put off having to face the hunter in his own home for a while longer. 

Coffee Plus was more crowded than usual, which was honestly really good to see. It was cool that so many people in town liked to support their local businesses. And, even though she had her thermos and coffee machine, Skylar had decided to treat herself to a nice Americano from the shop. Waiting in line, she scrolled through her phone, a small frown crossing her face as she realized that Remmy and Morgan hadn’t responded to her. Had something happened? Mmmmm, no, they were probably fine. Maybe they were busy. Maybe the two of them decided to go and enjoy the sunshine, somewhere safely away from the ghost that was threatening Morgan. They were fine. She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued to wait in line patiently. As she waited, Skylar started slightly when someone gently tapped her shoulder. A tall bearded man with tattoos-- had she done something wrong? She didn’t think she cut in front of him. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I really only get espresso here, so it’s really not that different from a drip coffee.” She said, his deliberate intonation going over her head. “But, they use really high quality roasts here, so it should be good no matter what you choose.” 

“Espresso’s not a bad idea. If a shot of caffeine’s what you’re after why complicate that?” Ulfric shrugged, doing his best to hide his disappointment at what seemed to be a rebuff of their shared status. Did she not know what she was? It seemed unlikely, the recently transformed usually carried a much stronger aura of panic around them. If this young woman had recently undergone an unexpected evolutionary upgrade she was handling it remarkably well. Then again her response didn’t seem terse enough for her to be one of those in the self-loathing, deep-in-denial, human-passing crowd.  “Crazy times we’ve been having, huh? With the fish rain and the squid thing,” He decided to try again, after a moment to scratch his beard in contemplation. He had time to kill, and if he ended up making a fool of himself he could always blame the early hour. “You strike me as someone who likes to get out on the water. You know, got a real affinity for the sea? I’m more of a terrestrial animal myself. It’d be good to hear a more informed take on it.” 

“Mhm. And this place does a really nice Americano. I usually make my own coffee and take it into work, but I figured I could treat myself today.” Skylar said with a polite smile, gesturing to the thermos that was tucked into the water bottle pouch of her work bag. Given the amount of caffeine it took to make her feel anything, her coffee habit had really added up over the years. Alain had been right-- the machine and thermos had been a good investment. As the man continued to speak to her, she blinked a little. Why was he talking to her? Not that she minded conversation, or that it was harming anything. She’d woken up early to ensure she had extra time to get from the coffee shop to work with ample time to spare. But… she hadn’t really anticipated having a chat with someone. “Mhm, pretty weird stuff. Between that and the blood puddles and the darkness… White Crest is anything but boring.” She laughed. When his words turned to talk of the ocean, of water, Skylar’s blood froze. “Huh? No, not really. I don’t even know how to swim very well.” She said, confusion bringing out an ounce of truth.

“Huh. My mistake, I guess,” Ulfric sighed, still not entirely convinced that he was wrong. He’d grown very confident in his shifter radar but maybe the lingering eau de hunter was throwing it off? “You smell like someone that would be more at home on the ocean. Not that you smell bad or anything, or that I go around sniffing strangers that often,” He inarticulately apologised, noticing her growing tension every time mentioned the sea. Still, one last shot, then there would be so little time left before Ink Inc. opened that he could justify going straight there and ideally he might even be able to warn her about the escalating hunter threat before she had firmly decided never to talk to him again. “Like I said, I’m more suited to land so I do most of my hunting there but do I like to fish on occasion--” If you could call catching salmon in your maw straight out stream fishing. “And your sc-- something about you seemed familiar, like maybe we had something in common. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave you to go about your business.” The wolf backed off a bit stepping to the side of the line, before rummaging in his pockets for change. “Let me buy you that Americano at least though, for your troubles. ” 

Smell like someone who would be at home in the ocean? What did that mean..? Skylar blinked in confusion as the man continued to speak with her about it. As he continued to talk, her eyes widened. Wait a second, did he? Was he-- Oh god. Rio had mentioned how Hunters who hunted people who changed shapes could sense others. Hand tightening on her workbag, she stiffened. “I-- I guess?” She stammered, trying to figure out how to best deny this. But if he was a Hunter, why would that be something smelling related? She really wished that Rio had told her more about how Hunters figured out who people are. Hunting on land? Fish on occasion? Oh god. He was a Hunter and he’d figured out what she was and he was going to try and take her skin or just actually try and kill him. “I-- No, no, you’re okay. Really, you don’t need to do that.” Skylar said, waving her hands in a slightly panicked gesture.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ulfric backed away even further, holding up his hands and nodding in acknowledgement towards the barista who had begun glaring at him for harassing their customer. “Nevermind about the coffee,” He conceded, depositing the change he’d got out into the tip jar instead. Turning back to the young woman he then cautioned her in a hushed but carefully enunciated tone. “I just wanted to warn you; There are owls in our bog. Pigs in our forest. There are… I don’t know the American expression but there are a lot of people around town right now looking to do folks like us harm. Take care of yourself, alright?” The wolf moved around in a wide arc around her, allowing her space as he made his way towards the exit of the Coffee Plus, his original purpose for being there abandoned. Clearly he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone until he got some rest, he thought, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe he could find a discreet place in the shop to nap before his first consultation arrived. 

The confused expression on Skylar’s face only grew as the man backed out of the line, tossing his money in the tip jar and then he gave a strange warning. Bog? Pigs? American expression? “I really don’t understand but, you really don’t need to go-- Oh no.” She said in dismay as she watched the man hurry out of the coffee shop. She really hadn’t meant to chase someone off like that, but… she didn’t know what he was talking about. At first, he’d seemed like a hunter, but then he was saying something ominous about owls in the woods? Did that mean he wasn’t one? Turning back to the barista, she placed her order, pausing when they asked her if she wanted anything else. “Um. And a large drip coffee, please. No room for cream.” She added. 

When her drinks were slid across the counter, Skylar hurried out the door and looked around. He was a tall man with a large bushy beard. He was the kind of person who would stand out in a crowd, and the early morning streets of White Crest certainly weren’t crowded. Spotting him, Skylar hurried after him, moving as quickly as she dared with two hot drinks in her hands. “Sir?” She asked timidly after him. “I felt bad that you didn’t get a coffee because of… all that. So, um, please.” Skylar held out the large travel cup.

Ulfric had just finished firing off a quick text to Ariana, ‘Got to rush to work. Don’t be late for school. I’ll pick up food for you + C on the way home’ when he heard the young woman call out to him and pivoted back to her. “That’s nice of you,” he accepted the offered coffee graciously. “Clearly I need it.” He took a long steadying sip. “I’m Ulfric, by the way, that would’ve been a smarter way to start. Here,” He retrieved a glossy business card for Ink Inc from his scuffed leather wallet. “If you change your mind and ever want to talk to someone about, well, changing you can contact me here. Or if you’re ever in trouble,” He held it out in the hopes of exchanging it for the kindly offered caffeine, but if she didn’t take it there was still a chance she’d remember his name if she ever needed it. He was fairly certain he was the only Ulfric in town. “I might be biased but I think we’re safer and stronger if we stick together.” 

When the man held out the business card, Skylar hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from him-- first he’d seemed like a Hunter, dropping hints about things that he might know what she was, but then… he’d backed off. Given, they were in a public space, but the streets weren’t busy. He could easily just grab hold of her, attack her, without her being able to do anything. But instead, he was holding out a business card and saying something about changing. Frowning, she took the card from him, looking at it briefly. “Ulfric Haakonsson.” She read outloud, her tongue stumbling over the strange last name. “Sorry. I’m not good with unfamiliar names. But, um… what do you mean by that? Sticking together? Do you--” She balked, looking around carefully. There was no one around, at least, no one she could see nearby. “Are you… different?” She asked, not sure how else to frame her question. 

Ulfric grinned as she took the card. Doing one small uncomplicatedly right thing felt like a massive relief amidst the tangled mess of conflicting priorities he’d suddenly found himself in with the Bennetts. “Don’t apologize, that’s my great-great-grandfather Haakon’s fault for sticking us with one,” He waved off her apology, unable to hold in a laugh at her downplayed question. Compensating for still keen but less than peak performance hearing, he glanced along the street to confirm no one was in earshot before answering. “Around the full moon, sure.The rest of the time it depends who’s defining normal. Unfortunately for us those with the least tolerance for things deemed irregular, tend to be the most... well-armed. What about you?” He flipped the query back around on her, encouraged by her apparent curiosity. “Are you saying you consider yourself ordinary?”

When the man-- Ulfric-- let out a laugh, Skylar blinked in confusion. Had she said something funny? She didn’t quite understand why he would be laughing. But, when he mentioned the full moon, her stomach lurched. Werewolf. He was a werewolf, he must be. She didn’t know of any other kind of creature--person, that turned with the full moon. And… that must be how he could tell that she was some kind of creature as well. Because his sense of smell. He could tell what she was just at a glance. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar weighed her options. He knew she wasn’t human. She couldn’t lie. She hated that she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. But… if he was telling her what he was, he must be a good person, right? He was honest. And he’d said those kind words, of being stronger and safer together. They were words she’d heard from Ricky, but had been long abandoned. Could she trust this man? Realizing she hadn’t answered, Skylar cleared her throat. “No. Not really,” Her words came out in a slightly halting tone, not sure how to put what she was into meaningful euphemisms. “I don’t always feel comfortable in my own skin. And the sea, it’s where I’m meant to belong. I’m just not always… the best at dealing with it.” She said, hoping he would understand what she meant.

“Well, the world we’re living in certainly doesn’t make it so easy,” Ulfric replied thoughtfully, milling over the young woman’s words for clues that could be matched with what he knew of other shifter species. The mention of skin pointed towards selkie, but the comment about not being comfortable in hers was confusing and a little concerning. The close-knit colony he’d heard about in Iceland frequently returned to sea in their true forms, and he didn’t see putting it off for extended periods could possibly be healthy. Then again the current climate in White Crest wasn’t exactly friendly towards shifter habits. “Maybe it’s best if you lay low for a while,” He added with a hint of sadness. “Hunting season is heating up and they don’t tend to discriminate between one ‘beast’ and the next.” He mimed quotation marks with his free hand to make it clear he didn’t really believe that label hunters had slapped on all shifters and supernatural animals applied to them. “Just keep in mind my offer, alright? If you’re ever finding things too much to handle on your own.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Skylar agreed, hoping that he understood what she’d meant. Did he realize that she was a selkie? She wasn’t quite sure how else she could make it clear, without just saying “I turn into a seal sometimes.” And this wasn’t quite the time or place to make such a statement. The man’s advice, words about a hunting season, they rang loud and clear. People were out in White Crest, looking to harm them. Looking to hurt people who were… like her. Who could change into things, even if they didn’t really want to. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “Thanks for the advice.” She said with a nod, though her mind couldn’t help but go to Nic and to Rio and to how they were different. They weren’t just mindless murderers. They were good people, stuck in roles they didn’t quite like either. “I will. I… I might take you up on that.” She offered a small smile. 

“That’s all I can ask for.” Ulfric nodded, understanding why she’d remain hesitant. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say to reassure her of his trustworthiness in the middle of the street. “Be seeing you around then, maybe.” Returning her smile, he gave a semi-reluctant wave goodbye before continuing in the direction of the parlor. He would just have to hope that the few words of warning he’d been able to give her would be enough to keep her from harm until she did decide to reach out or the problem was permanently, bloodily resolved. The news had undoubtedly added to the weight on the young shifter’s shoulders, and he did feel a small pang of regret for that. But, he concluded, as he arrived at the shuttered Ink Inc. shopfront, a few more blissful moments of ignorance weren’t worth dying over. It wasn’t until he got the heavily bolted shop door open that he realized he’d never got her name or any way to check up on her himself. Faen, he was going to need a lot more coffee. 

[brothershardy]

Without Me

Tagging: @minxchester @sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor / @my-malleable-muse @wincestismyguiltypleasure @amyriadofmuses @loyaltywon

Premise: In 1918, at the ripe age of eleven years old, Frank Hardy was tricked into selling his soul to a crossroads demon in an effort to save his ten year old brother from dying of cancer. The hounds claimed Frank in 1928 when he was twenty one; he managed to last three Earth years, or three hundred Hell years, on the rack, with the warping process going wrong when he finally broke, and he was eventually kicked out of Hell for being defected. He hasn’t had contact with any of his living family members since then, until a sunny spring day in 1998.

(*)

A lot could change in the span of over seventy years. Frank had seen that, never changing, always constant, always in the background. He did what he could to make up for his demonic nature, only ever going after the truly horrid souls that wandered this wretched world, but sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. There was nothing he could do to wash away this taint in his blood, the blackness that swirled within him.

Except for today.

He knew it was coming. He had known that things were dwindling down for some time. Like a fading string that was attached to his chest, connecting him to the one piece of humanity he had left, thin and ready to snap at any moment. And so this morning, he dressed impeccably in the clothes he had not worn in quite some time. The nineties were outrageous where fashion was concerned, though he had gotten very fond of the grunge section, with the baggy ripped jeans and the large comfortable flannels and the warm leather jackets.

No. Today he dragged out the crisp white shirt, and the tailor made trousers, the suspenders keeping them up as always. He combed his hair to perfection, adding a little grease to keep it down and groomed, and then he pulled on the jacket before heading off, teleporting straight to the nursing home where he was gently being guided towards.

This nursing home was a lot different than most. “Assisted living”, they called it; elderly folks could come here to live in small clean apartments, able to keep as independent lives as possible, with nurses and doctors and even a few nuns and priests nearby to help when being independent was nearly impossible. He breezed past the clerk, not even sparing her a glance as he compelled her to not notice him, and he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button to allow himself up on the third floor, down the winding hallways until he came upon room C505. J. Hardy was scrawled on the plaque underneath the number, and Frank allowed himself inside.

It was a pleasant little living space. Everything was so bright and cheerful, pictures on the walls dedicated to family members he both recognized from his human life, to nieces and nephews he would never get to meet. Recent Easter cards were still propped up on the living room’s coffee table, alongside a few family portraits that had been done for the holiday. In the little bowl near the radio lay a few family rings, and Frank plucked one out, sliding it onto his finger, before moving on to the bedroom, easing the door open and pausing at the sight of the elderly man laying there looking out the window, where the view of the ocean in the distance made things look almost hopeful.

Eventually, the man turned his head, and those bright blue eyes that Frank knew so well in his memories, eyes that had grown so much wiser, but never lost that spark of laughter in them, lit up at the sight of him. “Frank.” Even the somewhat wavery tone was stronger than expected, filled with so much warmth and love that Frank nearly felt breathless from it. “It’s been so long.”

“You’ve gotten old, little brother,” Frank said fondly.

Joe gave a raspy chuckle. “And you haven’t. What a shame. I guess you were always destined to be the more handsome Hardy.”

“Hey, give me some credit.” Frank smiled gently, wandering deeper into the room, and closer to the man’s bedside. “Brains and beauty, one of them was bound to fade with age. I couldn’t risk either one.”

Joe laughed again, and for a many in his nineties, he still looked younger than his age. His skin was faded and wrinkled, dotted with age spots, his freckles had faded, and even his once thick golden curls had receded somewhat into thinner, white strands. But he still looked so youthful in the eyes, a bright shining soul that could never be dimmed. It was one of his more appealing traits.

It was the first time in decades since Frank had allowed himself to get this close to the brother he held so dearly, and it made his heart ache to know it was going to be the last time as well. He could sense it, the life force that kept his brother going, beginning to fade. The Fates would let his candle burn to nothing, but at least it would be a quiet peaceful death. Joe wouldn’t suffer.

“I’ve missed you,” Joe admitted, looking to Frank like he hung the moon. “So many things happened since you died that I wish you could have been there for. You know Iola and I had five kids? Five!”

“Yes, I know,” Frank said softly.

“And of course they had to breed like rabbits, so I got sixteen grandkids, and they gave me two great grandkids. I’ve got a third on the way. Due in June. They said it’s gonna be a little boy.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. And Veronica said they’re gonna name him Frances. Keep the name in the family, you know.” Joe grinned a little. “Poor kid. That name hasn’t aged well in the past century.”

“Neither has Myrtle, but you don’t see your daughter complaining about it.”

“Hey! That was a beautiful name in the thirties. Besides, Iola chose it.” Joe sighed a little, looking fond. “Could never say no to Iola. I miss her too. She passed on a couple of years ago but you probably know about that already.”

Frank nodded, remembering Iola Morton in her own youth. Small in height, vivacious to a fault, with black hair framing a pixie shaped face and eyes so brown they looked like soil after a good hearty rainfall. She had always been Joe’s favorite date. Knowing they had married had always made Frank feel a little warm in the chest, and he had been sorry to hear she had died a few years previous. 

“It’s been lonely without you,” Joe said after a long minute of contemplation. “Sometimes I get confused, you know. I wake up thinking we’re still young and vibrant. Sometimes it feels like you’re still here.” He looked up at his brother then, the smile a bit faded as well, brows pinched with worry. “Did you suffer? When you died. I... They never told us...”

Frank could still remember that night with crystal clarity. How the howls of the hellhounds had gotten close for the last week of his life. How he spent his last evening with his family, keeping them close, letting them know how much he loved them, before going on “one last walk” before bed. How he had run, not to try and escape the hounds, but to lead them away from his family, and the feeling of their fangs sinking into his skin when they caught up to him.

“It happened fast,” Frank said softly. “I barely remember a thing.” Then, on impulse, he reached out to gently take his brother’s hand, feeling how fragile he was now, with age and as a human in general, how cool he was already to the touch. “I’m not in any pain, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh... Good.” Joe looked relieved then, and he managed to give Frank’s fingers a quick squeeze. “I’m sure Heaven is a lot more fun than this rickety old planet. I always hoped that you’d be the one to come get me. One last adventure, just you and me.”

A lump filled Frank’s throat, his eyes burning rapidly with the swell of tears he tried valiantly to keep down. Covering Joe’s hand with both of his own, he managed a smile. “Heaven is a wonder.” Or so he had been told. “It’s filled with your happiest memories. You’ll never feel pain, or hunger or cold or loneliness. It’ll be like you’re young again, I promise. You’ll be safe there.”

“And we’ve got all of eternity to catch up.” The smile that Joe gave him was nearly blinding. “I’ve done so much here. All the cases I’ve solved, the people I’ve helped. And my kids, everything they’ve managed to do to continue our legacy...”

“I know. I’m so proud of you, Joe. You’ve accomplished so much.” The fading lifeforce was getting weaker now, he could feel it. And thought it felt like his heart was shattering, Frank forced his smile to remain. “The world will be a little less lively without you in it to cause trouble.”

“Hey I don’t cause trouble. Trouble causes me.” A small laugh sounded, and then Joe closed his eyes then, sighing. “Does it hurt to die?”

“No,” Frank murmured. “Not like this. It’s as easy as falling asleep.”

“You’ll stay with me, right?”

“Every second. I promise.” His smile was shaky now, and it was a struggle to keep his tone steady. “You’re the best little brother a fella could ever ask for.”

“Well leapin’ lizards, Frank, you’re going to make me blush.”

Frank laughed quietly. And he sat there, the entire fifteen minutes, holding his brother’s hand, listening as his heartbeat slowed, and his breathing got fainter, before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”

One breath out, and then it was done.

(*)

Two weeks later, after a generous and anonymous donation to the remaining Hardy family, the funeral happened with grand respect. Like their father before them, Joe had made a name for himself in Bayport as one of the best and brightest private investigators, while also being a wonderful asset to the community. He was honored and remembered as a very kind and compassionate man who loved his family to pieces, who helped to keep Bayport running and safe, who ran programs for kids who needed the extra help, and always had an open door policy to whoever needed a shoulder to cry on, for a good long hug and a warm meal with a safe bed to sleep in.

It was a very sad day when Joe died, and his funeral had almost the entire town in attendance, with a 21 gun salute in his honor for his military services. People cried during the funeral itself, hugging each other and offering comfort, and when his coffin was laid to rest, it was beside his wife, with their parents on either side of their markers, with flowers and teddy bears being left behind.

Frank strayed in the very back, unnoticed by everyone, dressed all in black. His nieces, nephews and grand nieces and nephews all attended, and he could see them with their spouses, wishing Joe a private goodbye one at a time before leaving, and by late afternoon the cemetery was deserted, allowing Frank to finally walk up to the gravestones with a bouquet of roses in his hands to lay down over the freshly dug mound. Plucking several roses from the bouquet, he also laid one in front of the markers for his aunt, Gertrude, and his parents, Laura and Fenton, as well as Iola. 

The last marker, his own marker, remained bare. He couldn’t imagine why he would lay a flower where he was supposed to have been laid to rest after he died. It felt too strange.

Kneeling there in the grass, tears finally streaming from his eyes, all Frank could think about was his family, buried six feet below him, and wishing that someday, hopefully, he could properly join them.

[lilfellasblog]

Knight in Shining Armor - Roman’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: When Thomas has an allergic reaction, Virgil’s anxiety gets stuck on high-alert. Will he have to face it alone?Hello! Despite how the summary makes it sound, this is actually a fic for Roman Creativity Sander’s birthday! Happy birthday to the dramatic, passionate Side that inspires Thomas and keeps him going!

A/N: If you like this please reblog. It is the only way for this writing to reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Minor allergic reaction, anxiety, feeling of breathlessness that comes from anxiety. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1741

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Earlier that morning, Thomas had woken up at his friend’s house after a bit too wild of a night. He had groaned and stretched, trying and failing to open his eyes past the searing headache, when he felt weight drop on his chest.

His eyes slammed open and he was face-to-face with a very fluffy cat.

“Oh my goodness!” Thomas cooed as he brought his hand up. He let the cat smell his hand, then started gently petting its head and neck. The cat was a light gray color with yellow eyes and a very poofy tail.

“Aren’t you such a good kitty?” Thomas gushed.

The cat laid down on him and stretched, accepting more head scritches. Thomas couldn’t stop himself from booping the cat’s nose, but he immediately went back to petting. Soon enough, however, his immune system had something to say. He barely got his arm over his nose and mouth in time for him to sneeze.

The cat was entirely nonplussed and simply looked at him as if to say, “Why did you stop petting me?”

Thomas gently picked up the cat and deposited it on the ground. He stood up, gripping his head, and made his way to the bathroom to get some water and ibuprofen in his system. Might have to see if they have benadryl, I can already feel my nose getting stuffy.

////

Virgil was panicking. Thomas had been exposed to a cat, right after he had woken up, for an extended period of time, and was already having his airways close. Logically, Virgil knew that Thomas probably wasn’t going to go into anaphylactic shock, but what if he did?!

Virgil was keeping a very close eye on his own breathing. He didn’t feel like his airway was obstructed or swollen, but he did feel like he had to focus on taking deep breathes or else his lungs would start burning. He tried his breathing exercises, to no avail. Virgil was relieved when the benadryl kicked in for Thomas and his symptoms disappeared fairly quickly, but Virgil still couldn’t get enough air. He felt like he was constantly yawning or deeply sighing. It just felt like he wasn’t getting oxygen into his lungs!

He knew that it was going to be difficult to act normally around the other Sides. Patton was the center of Thomas’ emotional intelligence, Logan was ridiculously smart and observant, and Roman was very sensitive to how others were acting around him. Resigned to suffering alone in his room for the rest of the day, he flopped on his bed and scrolled through Tumblr. He had days like this; where he’d feel like his lungs weren’t working properly and that he’d have to gulp air just to feel like he wasn’t out of breath. It usually dissipated by the next morning. Virgil knew it was his anxiety, but knowing that only helped so much. He wasn’t going to have a panic attack over thinking he had methemoglobinemia or was going into anaphylactic shock, but his brain was still telling him that he was dying.

Virgil tried focusing on the various memes and shitposts that made up his Tumblr feed, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all. He was thrumming with anxious energy. When 3 PM rolled around, Virgil was exhausted and miserable. He wanted his anxiety to just fucking stop, to let him be a neurotypical person who could cure their sadness by walking outside or whatever shit, but no, his neurotransmitters decided that their role was to make his existence miserable. Was it so much to ask to just be able to breathe and have a normal day?!

Virgil threw his phone on the bed in frustration and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. He heard excited knocking coming from his door.

“Virgil, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance! May I request thy presence for a quest?”

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Sorry Princey, I’m not feeling too hot today. Maybe another time.”

There was silence at his door, and Virgil was relieved and sad that Roman had left.

“A new quest then! Perhaps I can interest you in a distraction?”

Virgil considered that. He wasn’t getting much better laying here in his room, but he could barely catch his breath as it was! How could he last during one of Princey’s quests?!

Virgil let out a groan. “Fine, but only if you promise there’s little to no physical activity.”

“I swear it.” Roman said way too solemnly. Virgil huffed a silent laugh to himself. Roman’s extra dial is stuck at 300%.

Virgil got himself up, made sure he had his phone and headphones, and opened the door. Roman was looking at him as though he didn’t expect Virgil to actually come out.

“Virgil, my dark knight! How may I be of service to you?”

Virgil shuffled. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. He really didn’t know how Roman could help him.

“That’s quite alright! I’m sure I can… imagine something.” Roman said with an excited smile and waggle of his brows.

“Did you just make a Patton joke?”

“Why yes I did!”

“Not very creative.”

Roman let out an offended Princey noise and Virgil snorted. Roman led the way to his room, not touching Virgil. He had learned that when Virgil’s anxiety was acting up, touch didn’t feel very good for him.

Roman opened the massive doors to his room and Virgil noticed that it was slightly darker than usual. The only light came from candles, fairy lights, and a sunset in the Imagination that was shining through the window.

“We could play Scrabble, we could watch movies, I even have a PS4 set up in here!”

Virgil bobbed his head as he looked around. He needed a distraction, so,

“Scrabble?”

Roman swept his arm to the fireplace (that has GOT to be a fire hazard) and directed Virgil to one of the armchairs. Unlike the other armchairs, it was black with silver metal accents, as opposed to the red chairs with gold and brown accents. That little detail almost made Virgil tear up.

Almost. He had a reputation to maintain dammit.

Roman grabbed two mugs of jasmine tea seemingly from out of nowhere and set one in front of Virgil, along with a plate of finger sandwiches. They played several rounds of Scrabble, with Virgil winning the first one by a narrow margin and Roman winning the second by an equally narrow margin. They got about halfway through the third game before Virgil decided to try eating some of the finger sandwiches. They were good. Virgil ate enough so he wasn’t hungry anymore but no more than that. He didn’t want another lecture from Patton about ruining his appetite. Although to be fair, this was probably healthier than Cheetos dipped in cream cheese, right?

Virgil irritatingly brushed his fringe out of his eyes for approximately the 70th time that minute and huffed in annoyance.

“Would you like the assistance of an expert hairstylist fair maiden?”

Virgil saw excitement barely being held at bay in the royal’s eyes. His skin didn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore, and he could use some help…

“Sure.”

“Wonderful! Come into my bathroom, I have everything we’ll need in there.”

Virgil threw one more finger sandwich into his mouth, chugged the rest of his tea, and followed the royal.

Roman’s bathroom was an amalgamation of every bathroom Thomas had seen in his life that made him think “Oh pretty!”. Walking past a clawfoot bathtub that was in the exact center of the bathroom for whatever reason Virgil was sat down in a chair facing a vanity. The mirror was lined in lightbulbs.

Fit for a star.

Roman tousled Virgil’s hair, staring at it in concentration. After running his hands through it a few more times, he went to his vanity.

“Your hair has enough grease in it to make hairspray not as effective, and we really don’t have a good hair type for hair gel. I was thinking of putting some dry shampoo in and adding hairspray?”

Virgil shrugged. “Whatever you think will work best.”

“Excellent! I shall begin right away.”

Virgil let his mind drift a bit as Roman fussed over his hair. Roman had personalized his room just for Virgil’s sake and put his whole heart into doing whatever it was Virgil wanted to do. All because Virgil was being a useless puddle of anxiety on his bed and decided he couldn’t breathe and avoided the others. He had even made sure Virgil was hydrated and had something to eat, and Virgil hadn’t even gone on the quest Roman wanted to go on, and-

“Done! What do you think?”

Virgil tore himself away from his thoughts and looked in the mirror. It… looked good. For only using dry shampoo and hairspray, it was damn impressive. It had some volume and stayed out of his eyes, but was still draping down enough to keep the emo vibe alive.

Roman was chewing on his lip and staring at Virgil in the mirror with wide eyes.

“Thanks Ro. I really like it. It’s really good.”

Roman’s smile lit up the entire room and Virgil swore it got a few degrees warmer.

“I’m very glad you like it Virgil! My skills are unmatched!” he declared with a flourish.

Virgil chuckled as they heard knocking on Roman’s door.

“Kiddos! Dinner!”

Virgil and Roman began to shuffle out of his room when Virgil realized something: he could breathe again.

He felt a lump in his throat beginning to form against his wishes. Roman heard Virgil stop walking and turned around. Upon seeing the expression on Virgil’s face, his brows knitted together.

“Virgil? Is something the matter?”

Virgil laughed wetly. “No Princey, I just… thank you.” he breathed out.

Roman smiled. ���Of course. It is my pleasure to help you Virgil.” he paused, looking slightly hesitant. “Would you like a hug?”

Virgil nodded and walked into Roman’s waiting arms. Roman held him tightly, showing the strength hidden beneath the prince uniform, but not too tightly. He had his face buried in Virgil hair and was breathing in the scent of hairspray and dry shampoo. After a good 30-second hug, they separated. Virgil was looking down and blushing slightly and Roman was smiling, a blush also covering his cheekbones, but instead of embarrassment in his eyes there were stars.

“L-let’s go to supper.” Virgil muttered.

“Very well. Let’s.”

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #19: “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” 

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Danvarias

Warnings: Minor mentions of drug use

Thirteen miles from a bustling city with a designer landscape, quaint eateries, and a baseball team that nearly became the pride of Ohio is a rural blip on the map that is better left ignored. Duntown, which the residents resentfully call Doomstown, is a place that makes you reckon with reality. Ramshackle churches and hate crimes that people struggle to name, the folks of this city fear everything they do not know. For most that means outsiders. They turn up their noses and yell out the windows of their pick-up trucks. Go back where you came from! For some, their greatest fear is the only thing they’ve ever known - church. They drag themselves to Sunday service, seeking forgiveness for the things they cannot control. 

The two most popular places in Duntown are a local bar that serves stale beer and moonshine - if you know how to ask just right - and a weekly flea market that sets up in the parking lot of the local high school. Tents and tables are propped up around potholes that will never be fixed and people banter and barter their mundane little lives away. 

The biggest plight of the city takes everyone by surprise. It happens so fast that people struggle to make time between work - at a fading steel mill - and Sunday’s services to figure out exactly what’s going on. It’s a funeral of all things that sparks the interest of the collective town. Watching their children play in a field that they will probably never grow out of and eating bologna sandwiches and salad that’s nothing but iceberg lettuce and croutons, Sam’s entire life changes. 

“Went to water my plants this morning. That darn water,” Deborah says shaking her head, “looked like someone done pissed in it.” It’s the way she says it, all bite and resolute, apprehension comes to a head. That’s what catches Sam’s attention. It seems like just another thing to fear, another thorn in her side. Sam’s eyes go to Ruby, she’s laughing and playing tag with her friends. Ruby’s at that age where youth slowly starts to crumble and she’ll become aware of the world around her. 

Sam can see Tuffy and John sitting near a makeshift shrine of Kevin. They drink and drink, saluting their dead friend who perished on a normal workday at the mill. To date, Sam had been to seven funerals of people she’d known from high school. They all died in the same place, all had funerals presided over by the same poverty-stricken mourners, and all had after funeral receptions just like this. Tuffy and John smoked meth behind Mrs. Ainsley’s - Kevin’s mother - car. And all this was normal. All this met Sam’s expectations. 

Water that she had to boil before drinking did not. 

Deborah had made the comment about the drinking water six months ago and now, Sam seemed to be the only one brave enough to do something about it. Her bravery was, in fact, an accident. She’d been weaving in and out of her trailer home, trying to carry all of the groceries that she’d purchased at Costco six towns over. Ruby was supposed to be taking a bath and then going right to bed, Sam didn’t want to argue about it. Not today. 

It’d been a long road, getting where they are now. Borrowing from people she despised, working extra shifts at the grocery store, and relying on nosy neighbors to babysit. Sam, you’re a pretty girl. They’ve got some good men at the mill. She’d got a daily reminder of just how cute she was by handsy men, most of whom would go on to live and die at that very mill. Now that Sam and Ruby had a place of their own, things were starting to look up. “Mom. Mom!” Sam grabs four bags at once and rushes inside. She dumps the bags and throws the bathroom door open. 

“Oh, Rubes,” It’s a rash, tiny and probably inconsequential, but Sam has promised herself to always put Ruby first. Yellow water that has been slowly turning brown for months, and a rash, are enough to get Sam to make a call. 

The call itself goes terribly. She doesn’t know who to ask for or how to ask for what she wants. The secretary on the other end uses big words that feel suffocating. All Sam wants is to be safe. “Do you understand? I need you to send someone who can help us feel safe.” Sam feels like she blew it the moment she hangs up. She deeply considers moving. The cost is far outside of her reach but if she asks the right people and is willing to speak to her mother again, then she can make it happen. 

“Someone sent you an email!” Bernice, who everyone just calls Bezza, yells from where she’s seated in front of her trailer. Rocking and knitting like always. Sam approaches with Ruby at her side. “Remember when you showed me how to use the ‘Gmail’? Well, I guess your account is still up. The noise that email made, scared me to hell and back.”

“Who’s it from?” Sam can’t remember the last time she’d gotten an email that wasn’t about her missing a bill. 

“Some law firm.” Sam nearly trips on herself as she runs into Bezza’s trailer. She pushes past mounds of newspapers and boxes of old junk and finds her desktop computer. Sam bites her nails while she waits for the computer to wake up. She listens to Bezza tell Ruby about all of her fantastic finds at the flea market that week. Sam feels nauseous. 

When she finally manages to get to her email, Sam has to rifle through a bunch of spam and late fee notices to get to an email from Danvers & Danvers Law Offices: 

Dear Ms. Arias, 

I’ve received some initial information about Duntown and I am concerned about the lack of progress being made on behalf of your town. I’d like to come and talk to you sometime within the next few weeks. Please send me a list of dates and times that you are available to meet and we will work something out.

Alex Danvers LL.M. 

Sam rereads the email five times before typing out her response. She’s embarrassed that she’s only free to meet after eight most days, but she leaves room for other suggestions like a phone call. She sends the email and immediately gets a response. They’ll meet at The Tipsy Cow at 8:30 the following day. “Mom, you took like fifty years,” Ruby, who is far too aware and mature for a nine-year-old, says as they walk back to their trailer. “Bezza smells like mothballs.” Ruby hops up the steps one by one and they enter and both go in search of something that will pass for dinner. 

“I had to answer an email,” Sam explains. “Don’t comment on how people smell unless it’s nice.” 

“I like moths.” Ruby finds an apple in the fridge and munches on that while Sam gets to work on Hamburger Helper. “Who emailed? Delany’s mom got a new boyfriend. They went to Chicago for the weekend.” Sam wishes she could tell Ruby that Delany’s mom’s new boyfriend is an alcoholic who has questionable world views. Instead, she remains silent. “Can we go to Chicago?” 

“Someday.”

“There’s a giant bean there!” Ruby gets lost in an old Almanac, Sam starts to think that she’s made a grave mistake. Big corporations don’t take too kindly to meddling women. Sam’s a nobody, she knows that and what kind of lawyer travels all the way from National City just to talk? If Sam had a computer of her own, she’d email this Alex Danvers right now, and tell him to forget it. But dinner and bedtime stories get in the way of those thoughts. 

Sam is hunkered down at work just enough to forget all about it until it’s six-thirty and Ruby is asking why she has to stay at Deborah’s house that night. “I have to meet someone and I don’t know how long it’ll take. You like Deborah.”

“I like you more,” Ruby tells her pouting and sulking the whole walk over. The minute they arrive at the ranch house, Ruby sees Scout, an Australian Shepherd mix, and she forgets all of her misgivings. 

“Everything alright?” Deborah asks as they both watch Ruby, and her oversized backpack, bouncing around the yard. “You finally meeting someone?”

“A lawyer. Just to talk about the water situation.”

Deborah turns very serious. “You be careful now,” She warns, echoing the same tone that Sam’s mother had when she told her about this last night. Sam kisses Ruby goodbye and returns home to change into something more presentable. She settles for a turquoise shift dress and white platform sandals. The bar is close which is good for most people in the trailer community but terrible for Sam. On more than one occasion, there have been fights that have broken out right outside of Sam’s window. For now, she considers it a good thing that she lives so close, otherwise, she might have been late. 

The Tipsy Cow represents all the good and bad of the town. Everyone certainly knows everyone but that means that things often boil over and get heated in these very walls. Sam normally wouldn’t be caught dead alone in this place but it’s 8:30 and she doesn’t think she’ll have to wait long. 

Unless this big city lawyer is late. 

Sam orders a club soda and finds a booth in the back. They’ll need a quiet place to talk and there are too many mill workers crowding the bar and watching some baseball game that Sam could care less about. There’s a little bit of a lull, which Sam hardly notices until one of the mill workers barks - yes, barks - at a woman who’s just entered the bar. That kind of ruckus signals outsider, so Sam lifts her head to see what’s going on. The woman is wearing a grandad collar white button-up, mid-wash blue jeans, and a blazer that could probably pay off Sam’s mortgage. The briefcase is the thing that catches Sam’s attention the most. 

Oh, she sits up properly, Alex Danvers is a woman. 

Alex doesn’t notice Sam just yet. She checks her expensive watch, mutters fuck, and orders something from the bar. When Sam sees the bartender going for the tap, Sam rises to her feet and approaches. “I’d advise against that.” Alex turns looks between Sam and the bartender and taps her head as if to say ‘duh’. 

“Long drive. The brain’s on autopilot.” Alex motions to the bartender. “I’ll take a soda.” 

“We say pop around here,” Sam informs the lawyer. Once Alex has her soda, she follows Sam to the booth, and extends her hand. “So, you’re Alex.”

“Yep. And you’re Sam?”

“Yes.” Sam sits first. Alex slides her briefcase into the seat across from Sam and takes off her blazer before sitting. 

“Am I late?”

“Only by a few minutes.” Sam smiles. “I see you got a good Doomstown welcome,”

“Doomstown?”

“This place. It’s a nickname of sorts.” Alex frowns. 

“Doesn’t look doomed from where I’m sitting.” Sam toys with her straw trying not to get distracted by Alex placing her briefcase on the table. Alex pulls out a few documents and sets them on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Coores & Phillips Company seems to be the main corp involved. They have the proper ordinances to drill in Cook and Favors county, but as you know, they’ve been drilling near the border here.” Alex goes to take a drink of her soda, but Sam reaches forward and grabs the glass first. “What?” 

“Don’t drink that.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“The bartender put moonshine in that.” Sam quickly lets go of the glass when she realizes that their fingers are touching. Alex laughs, uncomfortably, at the very suggestion that she’d get her drink spiked. “I’m serious.” 

“I can handle my liquor.”

“Don’t be...stupid. We’ve got no-joke moonshine out here.” There’s a competitive drive in Alex. Sam imagines that makes for some magic in the courtroom. “Those papers can tell you plenty but not enough. This place isn’t some cute little town that needs big city saving. It’s been six months, soon people are going to start fighting back.” 

“And how would they? Fight back I mean.” 

“You see those guys?” Sam nods toward the men at the bar, cheering for a homerun. “When they’re not working, they’re drinking. And if they’re drinking and on crank, then guns get involved.”

“We’ll need a town hall meeting. Something to show everyone that the problems are being addressed.” Alex takes a sip of her drink and grimaces. “We did a case in Texas two years ago. A nice settlement too.” 

“How much were the lawyer fees?”

Alex shakes her head. “No, no, nothing like that. This is pro-bono-.”

“I’ll pay. We’ll scrape money together. I’m not a charity case.” Alex seems to recognize Sam’s seriousness, so she lets it go in favor of mulling something over in her mind. 

“Show me.” 

“Show you...what?” 

“This town. Show me what I’m missing.” Alex pays for their drinks and manages to polish off the rest of her soda before following Sam out of the bar. They get another bark on their way to Alex’s car, Sam turns sharply. 

“Fuck off!” She warns. She’s seen these guys before. Heard their poor pickup lines. She won’t let them bully what might be their saving grace. 

“Oh, mommy’s pissed,” One of them says as Alex unlocks her car. Alex looks like she might say something, but Sam grabs her arm and continues to pull her along. When they’re in Alex’s SUV, which is a black Porsche Cayenne, Alex looks over at her sympathetically. 

“You have a kid?” 

“A daughter.” Alex will probably ask more but for now, she drives out of the parking lot and down the road. “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” Alex says a slight smile on her face. 

“I was being sarcastic, you can’t drive this thing around.” Sam points to her trailer which is only a block away. “You need to pull over there. You can park by my place.” Alex follows directions well but seems less than eager when they get out of the car and start walking. “Don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” Alex lies. They approach the church. Sam hasn’t stepped foot in there in four years and counting. Alex seems to acknowledge her jitters by slowing near the front door. “This the kind of place for you?”

“Girls like me avoid places like that,” Sam tells her. “Didn’t always. Things change.” The streets are quiet on the weeknights. The further you get from the bar, the easier it is to forget what kind of town this is. Sam glances up at the sky, the pollution from the mill has changed the whole world from Sam’s perspective. She doesn’t want Ruby growing up in a place without stars and with rusty water. “You shouldn’t take this case.”

“Why not?”

“I saw the way you looked at those guys. Like you wanted to say something or fight.” Sam stops Alex before they reach the long pathway that leads to the mill. “But you didn’t.”

“I would’ve. Easily. You don’t know me.” Alex sticks her hands in her pockets. “My mom would say that this is a lost cause. That we’ll get buried under big corporate lawyers, but our firm is solid. We’ll get you paid-.”

“If you think any of this is about money, then you don’t understand.”

“I do understand.” Alex touches the small of Sam’s back. She isn’t certain what to make of the gesture but she’ll remember it in case things take a turn for the worst. “Whoa.” Alex bends over with her hands on her knees. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“That moonshine.”

“Oh,” Sam laughs. “Yeah, it takes a bit to bite you like that.” Sam wraps her arm under Alex’s shoulder and guides her back down the road. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I could just use some water, which...I recognize is a problem.” 

“I have bottled water at home.” Even though they’re strangers, Sam feels comfortable enough with Alex to invite her into her trailer. For one, there’s nothing worth stealing in the place. And two, Alex has just decided to put so much on the line to help out. Sam wishes she’d cleaned up more. Or maybe folded up her couch so it would look like there was more space but Alex seems mainly focused on water, so Sam buries her shame. 

“Thanks,” Alex mumbles as she leans against the counter and downs half the bottle. Sam tries not to stare when Alex untucks her shirt and looks around the modest kitchen. 

“I told you not to drink that shit.”

“Okay, yes, I admit it. You were right.” Alex shrugs it off. Sam sits at the tiny wooden table and starts unlatching her sandals. When she’s finished and looks back up at Alex, she’s struck by the fact that Alex’s eyes are already on her. Like she’d been watching her. “Um...I’ll go. You have your kid and everything-.”

“She’s staying at a friend’s place.” Sam doesn’t know why she jumps in to say that but she does know that everything has a cost. If Alex wasn’t accepting payment from her, then she must want something. Sam takes a chance, a small one, and stands shoulder to shoulder with Alex. She’s been here before, giving recklessly. Never with Ruby around but there were times where desperation took hold. “I could repay you…” Sam has never had to say much to anyone, just show casual interest and they would find a way to take control. 

Alex is different, Sam learns right away, taking a step away and putting her water bottle down. “You’re a good person, Sam. I am too.” Alex lets out a breath. “We can work together, can’t we? Probably better when I’m not this drunk.” 

“I wasn’t…” Sam shakes her head. “In this place, things sometimes get warped.”

“It’s okay,” Alex says sincerely. “And in honor of us understanding each other. Would it be possible for me to sleep here tonight? On the couch, on the floor...whichever.” 

“Of course you can.” By the time Sam has gathered a pillow and blanket from the closet, Alex is already snoring softly on the couch. Sam covers her with a blanket, locks the doors, and goes into her own bedroom. Outside of feeling embarrassed by basically offering sex as payment, Sam is remarkably thrilled with her day. Even in her tiny room that often makes her feel like a child, Sam is floored by the possibilities that the future brings. 

Doomstown might not be doomed quite yet and if the fight that Sam has seen crop up in Alex’s eyes is any indication, they might actually have a chance. Sam doesn’t like to get her hopes up. She kneels at her bedside, crosses herself, and prays for the first time since she was in high school. She wants to be safe and for once, someone understands that. 

When she wakes up, Sam finds Deborah and Ruby in the kitchen. They’re both eating cereal and Deborah is boiling the water for the coffee maker. Neither seems all that phased, especially Ruby who points to the other room with her spoon, “Who’s that in there?”

“That’s Alex, she’s a lawyer.” Deborah arches a brow at Sam. Sam peeks into the room and finds Alex exactly where she left her. 

“What’s she doing here?” Ruby whispers as she looks over the couch at Alex. 

“She’s going to help us get clean water.”

“Really?!” Ruby yells. She bolts to where she can get face to face with Alex whose eyes open slowly. She has to blink a few times to remember where she is but when she does she smiles at Ruby and says ‘hi’. “You’re gonna help us?”

Alex looks to Sam and then sits up a little. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you.” On their way to check to see if Alex’s car got stolen Alex observes the town in the light of day. Bezza is rocking away in her chair. The hazy overcast does nothing to deter Alex’s smile. Even shouting from inside a trailer doesn’t seem to frighten her. “I like it here,” Alex tells Sam.

“Really?”

“I like the people at least.” 

The next time Alex Danvers comes into town, it’s to rent an entire building out for her team. They parade in with their fancy cars and nice suits but they immediately get to work. The drilling ceases for a week and after what seems like a standoff - marked by a lot of yelling in and outside of town hall - Alex takes the Coores & Phillips Company to court. The win comes suddenly, after months and months of proceedings. The big corporation senses the uneasiness and after a few men from the mill, high on meth, blow up a drill, it’s fairly obvious that this is a war they won’t win. Alex knocks at Sam’s door, sweaty from jogging over to this side of town, she is elated and Sam knows that finally, everything is right in their little burden of a town. 

Two weeks later, while Ruby, Deborah, and Bezza are playing cards, Sam announces that she’s going to take a shower. Alex looks up from where she’s seated, after losing in the very first round, and follows Sam into the hallway. “Don’t make me get a restraining order,” Sam jokes. 

“This is actually...about that night.” 

“I’ve known you for about a year. There’s been plenty of nights.” The hallway is barely a hallway. Just a sliver of space that leaves only a few inches between their bodies. 

“The first one.” Alex rolls her eyes, knowing that Sam will wait until she says exactly what she means. “We could’ve, you know. Ended up in bed together.”

“You wouldn’t have been very good. From what I remember you were all valiance and moonshine.” 

“That stuff was so strong, I might still be all moonshine.” Alex puts her hand on Sam’s waist, it’s the most direct she’s ever been with something outside of the courtroom. “I’d like to try again. Properly, I mean.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You aren’t interested?” Alex questions sadly. 

“I am interested. But more so in you joining me for a shower.” Sam holds Alex’s face in her hands and smiles. “Show me you belong in this crazy little town. Show me what you’re made of.” 

“We can hear everything you’re saying!” Deborah yells from the kitchen. Alex and Sam crack up laughing, hustling into the bathroom, and taking off their clothes.

[brieannakeogh]

Ambition, Butter, and Wine- Ch 1

Have a WIP since I’m not done with the next chapter of Dog Days. Sorry! 

Ambition, Butter, and Wine- Kylo Ren x plus sized reader. Crack! Fic. You’re a new First Order recruit. Trained in the culinary arts at the top schools and they dare make you serve the common folk. What happens when you have the opportunity to serve Lord Ren?

Master List

Warnings: None, just cursing. 

Scooping up a heap of bland looking mashed potatoes and plopping it on a metal tray, you idly wondered how you got here. Yes, you had applied for a position in the First Order, it was good benefits and easy hours, but you were a trained chef! They had you as nothing more than a glorified lunch lady. All predone dehydrated foods that took no actual skill to prepare and had less taste than a Wookie’s asshole. Not that you knew from experience, but you’d heard rumors.

Granted it did have all the nutritional daily requirements packed into all the slop, but you were wasting away into practically nothing! Well that wasn't true. Just because all of these people had to eat slop didn't very well mean you had to. After your shift was done you always made you a little something from the ingredients they had for the Order officers.

Maybe it wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but you felt you were owed this. The officers had a different chef that made their food. Someone higher up and who had worked there longer than you. His credentials however were shit. You had trained in one of the best schools in the galaxy. He was just some cook from bumfuck nowhere that got lucky and did his time, paid his dues and all that good garbage.

You sighed heavily as you made the next metal plate ding satisfactory to your ears in your tightly held frustration. You would keep up the meek little act until you got higher in command, then prove yourself when they all shit their pants, metaphorically speaking, at how good your food compares.

The poor trooper that was receiving his spoonful from you, jumped and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead when you started to laugh maniacally under your breath. He went to the nearest trash bin and deposited his uneaten food, than ran out of the galley.

Kylo Ren was in a mood. A particularly bad mood. His breakfast was ruined and during training the ‘dummy’ he was practicing on moved, which made him miss and sever the poor private’s pinky finger. He would have been fine if he had stayed still. Of course Hux didn't like that and went running to Snoke to tattle on him.

A smirk comes over his lips, behind his mask, when he thinks about how Snoke dismissed his concerns. That had been the only positive so far today. Now he was making his way to his quarters, hunger gnawing at him from having forgone breakfast.

He stalks in and sees the tray sitting on the table. It's the same damn thing as breakfast, some weird gray meat, but in a wrap instead of over eggs. Red clouds his vision as the tray melts in half. Now to do the same to the person’s entrails.

Doing the same repetitive motion made you completely bored, so of course you zoned out. You didn't see how people started running out the door when they caught sight of the black being standing in the doorway. Didn't notice when he stalked your way in a murderous rampage. You barely paused when he stopped in front of you with your spoon held, waiting for him to present a tray for you to plop the mush on. Giving an irritated huff you finally look up and stare into the faceless visor of Commander Ren for the first time.

A little bit of the potato slides off the spoon as you stare up at him, slack jawed. It neatly misses his boot and you pull your arm back quickly. One of your supervisors comes up, clearly scared out of her wits to inquire what he needed. As far as you were aware he had never stepped foot into the galley.

“Food.” Was all that she got for her troubles. His head tilted a little toward the direction of the... were they mashed potatoes? You never did ask. Then back to her. “But not this.”

“I don't blame you.” You muttered under breath and you think you saw just the slightest tick of that helmet to you, before you snapped your mouth shut.

“I'm sorry sir, but didn't they already deliver food to you? The chef was very specific when he made it this morning.” She tried. Her voice only shook twice. You were proud of her.

“It is inedible. I require something else.” The robotic voice answered. “Make me something else.”

“Well you see we don't really have anyone that can…”

“I'll do it.” You pipped up, realizing this was your escape. If you did a good enough job, maybe it would bump you up a bit on the branch.

His helmet fully turned to you. While you couldn't see them, you could feel the way his eyes raked over you. There was this saying, never trust a skinny chef, maybe that was the same judgment he came to as he nodded. The one thing you weren't is skinny. The little extra was from too much of your own food, but it was good and you didn't give two shits what others thought.

The dramatic man in black just stood there, seemingly waiting on you, so you turned your back and walked into the kitchen. Solid boots against the floor told you he was at your heels. “So is there something in particular you wanted?” You ask as you root around in the ‘special’ cabinets that held the fresh ingredients.

“Surprise me. If I don't like it you may get a surprise of your own.” His hand hovering over the saber at his hip.

“Guess you didn't eat breakfast either. Looked to be similar to lunch.” Your brain screamed at you to stop provoking him, but you couldn't help it. He seemed all threatening but your guess was he was just hangry.

He only acknowledged your statement with a metallic grunt. At least you think that’s what that noise was.

Pulling ingredients, you check with Mr. Murder Hungry to make sure they are all things he likes, at least raw. He doesn't actually say anything else, but the subtle head movements tell you a lot.

You get going on something that would be quick but good. You have a feeling he will get even more grumpy the longer he waits. Fifteen minutes later and you are plating up a gorgeous piece of meat with a salad and roasted vegetables. Cutting the veggies small made them only take ten minutes in the oven and the rest was no time at all.

Holding out the plate, he doesn't even attempt to take it. He turns on his heel and stalks away, out the kitchen doors and out the galley, you trailing behind. You follow him into what you can only assume as his quarters, where he points to a table to set the plate on.

You do as instructed as he removes his cloak and gloves. Hearing the hiss from his helmet, you don't really want to see what he looks like having heard all sorts of rumors. Instead you turn to leave before a deep, “Wait.” stops you. It's a very pleasant voice when not filtered through the weird mask.

Hearing a clunk, you turn around to see him set the device aside and he sits at the table. Silverware floated into his open palm, because of course he would us the force to summon cutlery. Without the mask, you can see his face, and what a lovely face it is. Everything seems just a tad bit big and exaggerated, but it fits well on his head and is proportional to the rest of his large body.

Your fingers wind together, twisting into each other to almost the point of pain as you watch him bring the first bite to his mouth. This is your make it or break it moment and by it, you mean you and by break, you mean die. Literally you feel like this one meal will determine if you survive or not and honestly, you don’t hate it. The adrenaline rushes through your veins and you can hear your own blood pump in your ears. Now you understand what all the extreme sports people would go on about.

He samples a little bit of everything as you hold your breath. “I expect dinner at 1900 hours. Tomorrow breakfast and lunch will be at 0600 and 1200 respectively. You are dismissed.”

Relief flooded you that he seemed to actually enjoy it, but then the dread settled into the pit of your stomach that you were apparently now the personal chef of Kylo Ren. His tantrums were legendary among the crew, so you couldn’t screw this up. Hesitating just a moment and doing a weird and awkward curtsy/bow, before turning around and exiting his quarters.

As soon as the plump little lunch lady he found exited his room, he gave up his pretense and devoured what was on the plate. It had been fucking ages since he had a decent meal and now that he had confiscated her for himself, he wasn’t sharing.

Next Chapter

Hopefully ya’ll will forgive me for slacking on Dog Days with this. I’ve got a few chapters of it done that I can sprinkle in while I’m trying to finish the other up. 

Let me know if you want to be tagged in it or added to my everything tag.

@stevieang, @albinotigerpython, @paintballkid711