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[anthrofreshtodeath]

#28 for the otp prompts pls? :)

Of course! here we go.

___

Maura hated anything accidental. Accidents threw off the perfectly timed balance of life’s tasks. Accidents exposed flaws and rattled already shaky self-esteem. Accidents in a report, like spelling errors or extra words? Made her seem unprofessional and less intelligent. Accidents while driving? She’d only been in one, of course not her fault. It still ruined the flow of her entire week. Spills? The worst. They had the potential to ruin evidence, furniture, clothes… 

But, more recently, she’d found herself addicted to a certain type of accident. And, well, accident wasn’t perhaps the correct term, but she allowed it because it wasn’t like she was purposeful, she just… manipulated the environment to significantly raise the possibility of such accidents.

And it was Jane’s fault, really. During one case involving old tunneled walkways at the library, the entire BPD had had to get intimately close. Sergeant Korsak even opted to meet them up at the main floor when they’d finished because of his claustrophobia (he’d said it was because he wanted to question some of the librarians on staff, but Maura knew his real concern). That left Jane, Maura, and Detective Frost to join an already cramped crime scene crew with the newly discovered body. Jane put Maura between the two detectives, of course, given her protective nature. Jane was also talkative when they got a body, so she constantly turned to bounce ideas off of Maura, to make a joke to Frost, or to point out certain landmarks to investigate further upon their return upstairs. 

And for every time Jane did this, she also touched Maura. A finger curled around Maura’s to get her attention, a scapula to Maura’s breast when Jane threw her gaze back in Frost’s direction. A full front-to-back collision, pleasant though it was, when Jane stopped suddenly to point out blood spatter.

Maura had corrected that to a reddish brown stain and moved on as best she could.

But, the door had flown open and now Maura found any excuse to put her body on Jane’s. In the elevator, Maura stood close with the pretense that she needed to push her own button once Jane had pressed 3 for homicide. In line at the cafe, well, there was often an afternoon crowd so of course she stood as close to Jane’s back as possible. Their order in line was also by design - she always followed Jane in from behind because Jane would never order first. Her chivalry wouldn’t allow it. So, that meant that every time Maura stood there, Jane would put hands on Maura’s waist and physically usher her forward until their places were switched. 

And that’s where Maura found herself now: Jane’s heat boring into her from the back, Maura feeling more touched than she had in months even though Jane’s hands remained in her own pockets. They looked up at the menu as pretense, both knowing exactly what they wanted. The only difference might have been…

“You wanna split an order of fries? Be bad with me; it’s Friday,” Jane burred into Maura’s ear, the buzzing low and pulsating. The lunch rush bustled on around them, and for the first time in the few weeks since Maura had started this whole experiment, she started to wonder if Jane might have known what she was up to.

When Maura turned to get a better look at Jane’s handsome face, that was confirmed. Jane smirked, then winked. “S-sure,” Maura answered.

“Good,” said Jane, straightening up again. She patted Maura’s hip just as they reached the counter. “Just gotta ask, y’know. Doesn’t have to be an accident. Ma, can we get the usual? Throw in a fry, though. We’re livin’ on the edge today.”

Maura saw the genius in Jane’s demand. She hated accidents anyway.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Ok here's what you do in this case.

Most networks will have the wifi password on the back of the router.

While on your main network, the one she turns off, you're going to go to your preferred web browser, and open an incognito tab.

The way you do this:

For Chrome in the very top right corner, there are 3 dots next to where your account is.

You're going to click the dots, and it will open a long menu. The 3rd or 4th option down says "New Incognito window". Press that button.

For Firefox it's in a similar place, only it's 3 lines stacked together.

Click those lines, and the 3rd or 4th option will say, "Open private window". Click that.

You are now going to make a Proton email. The site lets you create an email without 2FA (2 factor authentication) meaning you do not need to verify your identity with a backup email, phone number, etc. so that if this following method is discovered, there are fewer traces to find how you did it. Make sure you have a secure place to record your Proton email and password because if the password is lost then you lose the email!!

THE SITE HAS FREE OPTIONS!! KEEP SELECTING THE PROMPTS FOR THE FREE EMAIL!!! DO NOT PAY!!!

Proton email will ask you if you'd like to add a backup/recovery method. SELECT "MAYBE LATER"!!

It will ask you to confirm your choice to not have a backup. Select "confirm"!!

It will ask again if you would like to attach a Gmail account or otherwise. Select "skip".

Now you have your private and secure email, no strings attached. You're ready for part 2!

From here, still in the incognito tab, you're going to visit Proton VPN and install the VPN for your type of computer (Windows, Mac, Linux). DO NOT RUN IT YET!!

CREATE THE FREE PROTON VPN ACCOUNT!! AGAIN, DO NOT PAY FOR IT!! THEY HAVE THE OPTIONS TO DENY PAYMENT AND USE THEIR PROGRAM FOR FREE!!

Once the FREE account is made, it's onto the next step.

Now for the hardest part. Disregard if you know the wifi router name and password, and skip the next 2 paragraphs. If not, deep breaths. It's going to be intimidating, but you've got this.

WAIT UNTIL YOUR MOTHER IS ASLEEP OR GONE FOR A REASONABLE AMOUNT OF TIME!!! Essentially, learn her sleep and exit patterns to know if she will wake after an hour, two hours, three, etc. And if she does, then does she leave her bedroom? If she leaves the house, does she return within any amount of time?

You're going to pattern your timing here, and make sure you know where the router she uses and you do not, is located. Bring something to record the wifi network name and password. Whether this is a phone camera, a scrap of paper and a pen/pencil, make sure you can collect that name and password quickly.

Get the info ASAP and go back to your computer. Now, you're going to disconnect from the network your mother turns off.

The way you do this on Windows 10 is you go to your wifi settings.

When you select this, at the top, it will list the network you're currently connected to. You're going to know your computer is connected when it says, "You're connected to the Internet."

On the leftmost side, in the options, select, "Wi-Fi".

Now you'll see at the top of this page, there is the small blue toggle that says, "On."

Select this toggle so it turns gray.

Run Proton VPN now.

Tell it to connect to a network from any available in the list by clicking "Quick Connect".

It will not be able to connect yet because you're disconnected from any network, but let it keep trying to connect regardless.

From here, you're going to go back to your computer's internet settings, and look for the network your mother uses.

To do this, go to your Windows wifi settings again, and under the Wi-Fi tab, just beneath the toggle you selected before to make it gray, you're going to select the toggle again so it turns blue. This turns the wifi back on, and the VPN will connect. YOU WILL KNOW THE VPN IS CONNECTED WHEN IT SHOWS A FLAG FOR ANOTHER COUNTRY AND THE OPTION "DISCONNECT"!!

Now, back to the Windows wifi settings yet again. You'll notice just beneath this toggle, there's the option "Show available networks".

This will open in the bottom right of your screen, the list of available wifi networks. Search for the one your mother uses, the one with the same router name that you wrote down. Click on it, enter the password you collected.

Now you're connected to her network, and it's nearly impossible to kick you off unless she shuts the router down as a whole!

Should the router go down, Proton VPN will say so. If your IP gets blocked, or it changes, Proton VPN will say so.

Now! Go ahead and do everything in the above original post I made SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS ROUTER, THE ONE YOUR MOTHER USES AND WHICH YOU JUST CONNECTED TO, and you'll be able to protect your IP even more!

Make sure to hide your Proton email and VPN account information in a secure place, and be safe on the internet!!

And, if you want to hide Proton VPN as a whole on your computer, let me know. I can show you how to change the icon so it's less suspicious!

An important life tip for parents who block your wifi on PC/laptop (Windows 10)

I found a workaround that's suiting me so far. How it works is, wifi is blocked through the router by detecting your computer's IP address, and blocking said address. Now, it seems complicated because there are tons of methods to use for changing your IP. But so you don't have to go through the same steps every time, do this:

Make sure you're connected to a wifi network that you're blocked on. You can check by going to the Windows search bar, type "settings", hit enter, and select "Network & Internet".

It will show you the network you're currently connected to. If it says "connected, no internet" or something along those lines, you're good for the next step.

Next, go to the tab on the left labeled "WiFi". There, you will see a setting labeled "Random hardware address", and a slider beneath it that is most likely greyed out. Select it, making sure it turns blue.

Then, you're going to hit the tab on the left labeled "Status". From there, just beneath where it says you're connected to a router without internet, click the grey button labeled "properties".

Where it says "Network profile", click the "Public" setting, so that other devices in the house cannot discover your computer or connect to it, and therefore reach its files and settings.

And lastly, scroll down to the section labeled "Random hardware address". There is a drop down menu. Open the menu, and select "Change daily". This will change your IP address on a daily basis, meaning your computer will be unblocked until the IP is discovered, but once the next day arrives, it will change again and unblock it.

Hope this helps y'all as it helped me. Do not let fucking shit block you from the most essential resource in the modern world. Internet connects you to every necessary thing in existence. It's a basic necessity at this point, by ethical standards. Regain access to it however you can, wherever you can, whenever you can.

[vide0-nasties]

PROMPT: *whispers reverently* that cut scene from moon. eustacia washing julian's hair. I need it

2.5k of deleted hair washing scene, just 4 u cathleen! :***

post-book viii: strength, deleted scene from my fic ‘whatever a moon has always meant’ Julian/MC sfw

Julianwatched Eustacia wash her hair out, hunched over the sink, and he'dwatched her bottomlessly black eyes track to him. She had asked,“When was the last time someone else washed your hair for you?”

Hecouldn't remember.

Now,he sits in the chair she turned around for him at her rickety kitchentable, stripped to the waist. He's exhausted, and wired, with onelittle triumph under his belt in the form of a scarab-shaped key, andeven that is outweighed one-hundred-to-one with questions.

"Canyou comfortably tip your head back for me?" she asks from behindhim, and her rolling dark brogue floods his spine and empties histhoughts of everything except the facts that the hair prickling onhis arms and neck is freezing, and the sudden surge of blood underhis skin makes him feel like a furnace. That voice,deep-deep-deep—he could imagine a trillion things for her to say,and he'd not find a single one of them unattractive.

Thereis one win: he doesn't shiver when she sets the basins down—a mutedsound of copper against wood. He lolls his head back, over the backof the chair, and peers at her. "I could comfortably bend overbackwards for you. Would you like me to try?"

She'sscrubbed pink, cleaner, barer, and more gaunt than he's seen her.Without her makeup, she looks very familiar—all nose, all bone, allbruise-y bags sitting heavy under her eyes. She looks like him. Shelooks exhausted. With two fingers to the crown of his head, she rollshim back up some, but it makes him no less pleased that he caught herlooking at his throat, and that he caught her swallowing.

Oh,he's positively incandescent.

Shehasn't come back into view, so he looks at what he can. Namely, theceiling. It's an inverted and dried botanical garden, strung up onfishing lines. Mesh sacks of potpourri, dried wedding bouquets andclutches of roses, wildflower crowns of all sizes. Every petal adried and muted version of its quick self, brittle and faintlyfragrant.

He'salmost shocked that he'd never noticed, but he didn't—or wasn'tallowed to--spend much time up here. Any? Did he ever come upstairs?Did he ever come—that's enough, and, anyway, the ceiling ismuch taller in only that spot, where the roof peaks into a dormer.His head wouldn't brush against them the way it does in most of theseold houses.

"Huh,"he wonders, staring at all the arrangements. Part of him wants to seehow easily they could crumble under his touch, if they'd continue towither. Another, bastard part of him wants to ask if Asra gatheredthis dead garden for her—no-no, enough of that, the horse is dead.

Eustaciaand Asra are close—a jab at him would leave a bruise on her. She'smuch softer than she looks, and, yet, she isn't. The claws and fangsaren't for show, he's quickly learning, though he's really never hadno doubts.

Hejust wants to—he wants to ask her, just get it over with,get it out of his system—have you—did you ever—when was thefirst time you—when was the last time you—

Julianhas had all number of run-ins with unsavory characters: muggers,pick-pockets, people out looking for a specific and cruel type of'fun,' pirates, and warlords turned nobility, àla the Count. He's met soldiers of fortune, bandits, and murderers.

Hehas never met anyone like Eustacia Barbary. And he thinks he wouldfear her, were her feet not planted firmly in his corner, were herclaws and fangs not primed for use in his defense.

Evenbleeding out from the blood eel's bite, she had turned the tables onhim and boxed him up against the wall, shielding him from the guardswith her back. Constantly, she makes the ground shift under his feet,and it's exhilarating to try keeping up. Being defended, being deemedworthy of defending, is foreign territory.

Buta grape knows a grape. Eustacia is wonderfully and fearfully made,her claws are cursed unbreakable, her fangs are capped in gold, andshe lives under a canopy of love-soaked flowers. Julian isunforgivably wild about her.

Avery tiny and very loud part of him rises up, pushing the questionaway, wanting the long, pale hand of the topsy-turvy, static garden'skeeper to feed him the fragile petals, to see how many he could takebefore the perfume made him sick.

She begins tofingercomb his hair, humming thoughtfully under her breath as hernails scritch over his scalp. “Our hair is similar,” she says,twirling a nail through a formative curl at the nape of his neck.“When I've started growing out mine, that is. Come wintertime, Ihave enough to cover my ears. It's the picture of seaweed.”

“I'd like tosee that,” he tells her, looking at the stubble that darkens thesides and back of her skull, almost long enough to call actual hairnow, due for a shave. The hair on the top of her hair is still damp,but beginning to dry, letting the waves begin to come through.

She gives him aweary smile under wearier eyes, nodding her head. “I'd like you tosee it,” she sighs, her finger in his curl slowing to somethingthoughtful. They both know where they each stand—they both know hemight not see another winter.

“Eustacia,I...” He trails off, frowning and flattening his lips into ablanched line. What can he say? There is no comfort that isn't acradling fabrication, a lie. No comfort for her when it comes to him,anyway. He has her, and she'sgiven of herself freely. What does he have to offer in return? Sofar, whiplash volleys of thrill, endangerment, and unhappiness.

“Tellme if this is too hot or cold,” she says, saving him from hisrunaway mouth.

Thewater she pours on his hair from her cupped hands is a touch too hot,searing his scalp, but he melts into it. It's been days since he'shad a proper scrub, and he's always preferred his water somewhatscalding. He groans, just a little, and feels the muscles in hislower back release a fraction.

Oncehis hair is soaked through—water rolling over his neck andforehead, dripping over his ears, a few scattered droplets cooling onhis shoulders—she begins lathering up a shampoo bar between herhands. The smell is wonderful—lavender, rosemary, and aloe, pepperyand clean—and he goes slacker by degrees, legs stretching out, armsloose with his hands in his lap. His jaw unclenches, and his browgoes smooth as she works over his scalp, nails and fingers andhatchmark-scarred palms.

Ifhe had any decency, he would be embarrassed; he's actually gruntingand moaning—little noises, more like sighs with some intonation—butthe unevolved part of his brain is in revelry, and everything is calmand quiet.

“Doesit actually feel that good,” she begins, “or are you bullshittinglike the girls in the carnal shows?”

Oh-ho-ho?

Asmirk cracks over his mouth. “And what do youknow about carnal shows?” he returns in a purr, dripping teasingsarcasm that's blurred around the edges.

“Themore you pay, the worse they are,” she drones. He barks a laughthat resounds in the air around them, and it seems she can't help butbark in return. That's one of the things he enjoys about her, onethat he hopes is something she feels in return—that he finds herlaughter infectious.

Shebegins to rinse his hair, and all he wants to do is bury his faceagainst her neck with his arms wrapped around her waist, to laughagainst her, and feel her laugh ring through his body.

Asit is, she simply scrunches some excess water from his hair into thesoapy basin, and rubs some oil through the ends of his hair. The oilsmells of nothing, but he knows he will close his eyes when it fallsin his face, and he will imagine that he can smell her—apples,petrichor, orchard-after-storm.

Somethingbumps against his lower lip, and he remembers the bottle glass shewears on a chain around her neck. Without much thought—any thought,really, would've stopped him in his tracks—he takes it between histeeth and glances up at her.

Shehas stopped dead, staring down at him with something he might callconfusion, a hand splayed on her chest. She frowns, her thick, sharpbrows knotted together, but there is worry in her eyes. The glassingscar around the right one warps the skin, pulling it into littlelines. Concern, maybe. Or trepidation. Her concern and her worry havea more jagged feeling, a broken glass quality.

Helets the moment linger, he lets her figure herself out, because herface twists, and her hands clench, and her lips peel away from herteeth when she is coddled, so he has stopped coddling, tried to stop.

Heclicks his teeth against the bottle glass. He waits for her.

Whenthe hand over her heart loosens, comes away from the bare skin overher camisole, closing in a loose fist, she asks, “Julian, can Ikiss you right now?”

Shealways asks, he always tells her she doesn't have to ask, and healways say yes anyway. “You know you can just kiss me. You don'thave to ask permission, or go looking for my chaperone,” he teases,dropping the pendant and reaching for her hands, slowly drawing themcloser, laying them on his shoulders. There is no demand, noinstruction, only suggestion. She is free to do as she pleases, andalways has been.

Hervoice and eyes go a little flinty, but not at him, palms sliding tohis chest, “Haven't enough people taken from you without asking?”

And,there she goes, branding her name into him without meaning to, a markhe would love to wear, even when her intentions are forhim, and not herself.

Itmakes him think of the kiss that will last forever, the gift she gavehim after he'd tried to end things on the docks. A napkin stolen fromsomeone's pocket during dinner at the Raven, a hole bitten into herown cheek, the glimmer of red on her lips and teeth, and a stain onthe linen that would never wash out.

Akiss that will last forever, one that lives in the breastpocket ofhis jacket, an acknowledgment that he is not alone, not anymore.

“Wouldyou please kiss me, Eustacia?”

That'sall it takes. He forgets that her wants are simple—the ones sheshows him, anyway. That anything hewants is only a question away. That she gives easily and freely, butshe takes with care.

Herhands slide up the column of his throat, to the sides of his neck.Her grip is no feather-light touch. It's firm and grounding, and notclose enough to a choke that might get him going. Weight to remindhim she is there, her thumbs coming up to sit over his sideburns.

Shebends at the hips to close the distance between their mouths, and hesits up straighter to bring their bodies closer together.

And,it's just like the world's gone quiet, isn't it?

Theplace where his brain used to be is a big, fat question mark, beddeddown in cotton. The whole of Vesuvia blurs outside of the feeling ofEustacia's lips, her fanged canines sometimes catching his lip andstinging. His mark is gone, Count Lucio is gone, the murder is gone,and the gallows are gone.

Asra,Countess Nadia, Valdemar, the palace—all gone. Gone, gone, gone.

Thereis Julian—Ilya—some overgrown, gangly boy from Nevivon, who stillfeels the saltflats dust on his skin when he is faraway in his head,and Eustacia. Whatever she is—soldier, murderer, monster, whateverelse she is and isn't—she has bruises that ache for him, littlesoft spots she likes to prod. He doesn't know her, or her history,but she's let him see her vulnerable, and she's let him see into herthoughts, and she's let him see into her home.

Shetreasures beauty, and poetry, and she lives in a home with anupside-down garden. She makes up dirty limericks, and poses riddles,and snaps her teeth together when she's pleased.

Shecan't abide people being lonely and alone. She can't abide it inalmost anyone.

Shehas decided she will be there when he is ready to stop being lonelyand alone.

Hebreathes into the empty spaces she leaves, pressing forward, alwaysgreedy for more, always desperate to please. He arches his back, healmost stands, he wants to give of himself, return affection foraffection for affection, to let her know he can and will and wants togive, as well.

Hewants to be good, fucking hell,he wants to be good for her.

Butshe keeps him sitting, keeps him prone and unmoving, slowing thepace, pulling back when he gets to eager. It borders almost onchaste. There is a bigger feeling backing this maneuver, this is notthe lingering goodnight kiss at Mazelinka's, or the recklesswe-could-get-caught kiss in the repurposed tea house.

Whenshe pulls back, he tries to follow, and she laughs. Very quiet, verypleased, her lips shining and pink(er). For a fraction of a second,he fears, as always, she will wipe his kiss away, that she will callthis whole thing off—even when that had been the goal he thought hewanted to chase.

Withoutany spare words, she straightens up and begins running her handsthrough her short, thick crop of hair. Pass after pass, until Julianrealizes what she's doing.

Herhair dries into thick waves, waves like octopus tentacles, and itfalls over the side of her skull, over her eyes, looking for all theworld like the frayed black ribbons on old mourning gowns.

Holdingup her hand—pink now, too, from whatever magic that had been—ingesture at his own hair, she, again, asks, “Your turn, heartsweet?”

“Oh,yes, please,” he tries to laugh, but it might've come out a slur.

Carefully,she settles in his lap, and he loops his arms around her hips.Wherever he sees skin is a place he desperately wants to touch. Hewants to get to know every tattoo, freckle, dapple, and scar of hersvery personally, wants to know them by name and date and cause. Hesettles for proximity, her hands in his hair, her weight on his legs,her mouth against his.

Theremight not be time for it in the future, there might be the longest,short walk he's ever taken, deserved or not, but he thinks of—hopesfor a future where he can dothese things, and a thousand others.

Forthe first time in a very long time, he hopes for a future, and itglimmers gold when he closes his eyes.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Monstrous Morning Brews

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Halloween Lattes

Rowan keeps asking himself why he orders the same, overly-sweet, coffee every day when he prefers it black and bitter. Oh, the golden-haired barista—that’s why.

Fic inspired by the title image 👻🎃

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1838 words

*******

“Large pumpkin latte for Rowan!”

Rowan’s head snapped up as the barista’s voice rang out through the small café. He carefully finished setting down his laptop and books before striding towards the pickup counter.

Aelin was leaning onto the counter’s other side, her golden blonde hair pulled up in a precarious bun as she smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you,” he grabbed the drink and offered her a crooked smile of his own.

“I gave you a ghost this morning, what do you think?” she was grinning as he finally dragged his eyes from hers and looked at the image gracing the top of his coffee.

This was what the café was known for—well, what Aelin was known for, seeing as she was the one to pitch this particular menu item. Specialty designed latte art. Not that latte art was her idea, or new by any means, but Aelin was the one to suggest that the café start allowing customers the choice of images, letters, or patterns on their drinks, for an extra charge of course.

After the first few Instagram posts circulated of various designs, the café soon had long lines of people waiting to get their custom lattes. These days, with Autumn in full swing, many of the Halloween themed images were in high demand.

The first time Rowan visited the café it was only because he’d passed out the night before at his friend’s apartment and desperately needed caffeine before making his way home. This place wasn’t remotely close to either his house or to campus, but he found himself driving the longer commute just to see a certain barista.

He’d been struck by her golden hair and bright blue eyes the first time he’d come in and she’d barely been able to piece his order together because Rowan had somehow reverted to his flustered by a pretty girl teenage phase. Which was why when she’d asked what design he wanted on his latte (when had he ordered a latte?) all he’d managed to say was surprise me.

Watching her eyes light up and a wide grin spread across her face, Rowan decided he would let her choose his design whenever he ventured to the café and bought one of the special lattes.

‘Whenever’ then becoming every day.

But it wasn’t the artistic coffees that brought Rowan back day after day, it was the sharp-tongued, cheerful, stunning barista who smiled at him whenever he walked in. Aelin, who got excited whenever she could draw something new on his drink; who always tried striking up a conversation with him despite his multiple failed attempts at not looking foolish in front of her; who, today, had put a cute little ghost on the top of his coffee.

He chuckled at the little ghost that shook as he gripped the mug. “It’s boo-tiful”

Rowan froze, regretting his stupid pun before the words even finished spilling out of his mouth. What? Why in Hellas’ name would he make such a corny joke—

Aelin laughed and grinned wider but was cut off from replying as another customer approached the till.

Rowan hastily walked back to his table, careful not to disturb the intricate design atop his drink. As he glanced around the café, he was happy to note that besides his, there were only two other tables occupied.

He set the ghostly latte next to his computer and situated himself for the next few hours.

First, Rowan took out his earbuds and turned his study playlist to shuffle. He hated the loud, chatting crowds that sometimes overtook the café.

Next, he pulled out a few bags of snacks, some grapes and crackers. He wasn’t a fan of the overpriced too-sweet pastries on display.

Finally, Rowan looked at Aelin and watched as she ducked into the back and out of sight, before stealthily pulling out his thermos. It was filled with freshly brewed, hot, black coffee. Because he absolutely, without a doubt, hated pumpkin lattes.

***

As soon as the leaves had started changing, the café’s menu was overtaken by pumpkin, caramel, and cinnamon.

The rich aromas were comforting, especially as the weather got colder, but that also meant his already-unwanted latte was now overflowing with the sickly-sweet artificial pumpkin flavor. He knew Aelin loved it; he’d seen her make her own drinks while on shift to know she adored the pumpkin lattes and hot apple ciders.

Maybe that was why he still pretended to enjoy the monster-covered drinks.

In the last few weeks, Aelin had given him coffees with pumpkins, bones, and leaves, as well as more intricate designs like a wolf howling at a moon or a witch on a broomstick.

Rowan would buy a thousand sugar-filled lattes if it meant seeing her proud smile as she handed over his coffee.

Aelin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as she walked over towards his table and swept some dust and old crumpled wrappers from the ground. “Not thirsty?”

Not for coffee. He shook off his immediate thought and fought the blush that rose as she tilted her head and waited for his answer. Gods, he hadn’t been this horrible with girls since high school.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?” Smooth.

Her lips quirked to the side as she nodded at his latte which was as full as it’d been when he picked it up more than an hour ago. “Are you not thirsty?” Then her brow furrowed as she asked, “Or was something wrong with it? I could make you another one—”

“No!” His eyes flew wide as her brows flew up at his quick response. “Uh, I mean, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just, uh, I got distracted.” To prove his point, Rowan plucked up his mug and took a large sip. It took everything in him not to cringe at the sugary taste.

“Oh, okay,” Aelin smiled, apparently believing his role of latte-enthusiast. “Well, if you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back.”

That’s when he noticed that he was the only customer left in the café. He smiled at her again and she paused.

“I just noticed you have dimples,” Aelin told him, grinning. “They’re cute.” Then she winked and walked behind the counter and through the back door.

Rowan sat frozen, blinking slowly at the spot Aelin had just been standing, trying to remember how to breathe. She noticed his dimples. He didn’t even know he had dimples. She thought they were cute.

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he couldn’t have repressed his broad grin even if he tried.

In an effort to calm himself down, Rowan reached into this bag and drew out his thermos to take a long drag of the bitter coffee. He’d just taken a second large gulp when the back door swung open and Aelin flounced into the main sitting area.

“Sorry, I forgot to grab the broom—” She halted three steps from him as her eyes darted between his face, the thermos of black coffee, and the barely-touched latte. “I—what?”

Rowan guiltily lowered the thermos to the table, swallowing the coffee as he met her accusatory glare with his own wide-eyed gaze. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed committing a felony, not drinking homemade coffee in Aelin’s café.

“I, uh, well,” he stammered.

Aelin merely crossed her arms and raised a single golden brown as she waited for him to say something. When it became clear that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—explain, she sighed.

“Rowan, is that coffee?”

“Yes.”

“You bring your own coffee to a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” He could’ve sworn she was fighting a smirk.

“Can I ask why you bring your own coffee to a coffeeshop? Especially when you buy a coffee every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, surely red from his embarrassment, and winced. “Yeah, you can ask that.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping towards his table to lean her hip against it. “Okay. Why do bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, when you buy a coffee every day?”

Rowan was tall enough that even while sitting he was able to easily look her in the eye as she stood at his table. Theoretically easy, yes; Actually easy, when he wasn’t sure his embarrassment would ever fade away, no. He rubbed a hand down his face and loosed a heavy sigh.

This was it, he had to come clean. She would find out he’d been lying to her and only buying lattes as an excuse to talk to her despite never having the balls to actually say anything in his favor, and she would call him creepy and ask that he never return. But she was staring at him expectantly, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that he had no defenses when it came to Aelin.

“Here’s the thing,” he began slowly, “I don’t actually like lattes.”

Aelin blinked. Twice. “But you get always get a specialty latte.”

He winced. “I do.”

She was silent for a minute and Rowan mentally kicked himself and was already preparing to pack up his stuff and leave when she tossed her head back and laughed.

Aelin laughed.

Rowan gaped as the girl he’d been hard-core crushing over laughed relentlessly at his confession. He couldn’t even be embarrassed or confused because he was too startled by how beautiful she looked when she laughed

“You,” she gasped through another laugh, “come in here every day and pay for a drink you hate—why?”

Rowan opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but he stared at her as she calmed down and beamed at him, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to confirm it.

Drawing up a scrap of the bravado he’d lost every time he entered the café, Rowan cleared his throat and looked Aelin in the eyes as he told her, “Because it gives me a reason to talk to you, and you look so happy making those drinks.”

By the way her smile grew impossibly brighter, Rowan knew he’d said the right thing.

“That is endearingly stupid.”

His face fell but before he could utter another word, Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. The soft kiss short-circuited Rowan’s brain and he remained sitting as Aelin quickly darted back behind the counter and started pushing buttons on one of the machines.

The next thing he knew, Aelin was back at his table with a large cup of fresh, black coffee. “Just so you know,” she grinned as he blinked up at her, “I liked making those drinks, but I liked the customer who ordered them more.” With one last wink, Aelin disappeared back behind the counter, the light scent of pumpkin following in her wake.

Rowan’s grin didn’t falter for the rest of day once he noticed ten scribbled digits and a small waving ghost on the side of his cup.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @themoonthestarsthesuriel @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Flirt mode  A C T I V A T E D 👏

As everyone else in the room was getting ready to depart for the day - chatting here and there and gathering their belongings - Vee was mostly occupied by her handbag, making sure everything was there before she would leave the place. She did not hear when someone approached her, but she next felt the poke of an object to her right shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad earlier,” started Donatello’s voice. “But I truly do think we’re connected somehow now.”

She looked at him, first noticing that he had been poking her with a cardboard file folder, and then she took a good look at his clothes. Purple. AT LEAST not the same shade. He was wearing a fitting v-neck sweater of a dark purple color, with a white shirt  and a black tie underneath, his looks completed with dark charcoal pants and black shoes.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me,” started Vee with a stifled laugh. “Why are we like this?”

“I’m not superstitious, but maybe it’s destiny. We were meant to work together,” he winked. “Great minds think alike!”

Vee couldn’t hide her smile, next prompting him to get on the move for their dinner. She first expected them to walk out of the building and head to a subway station, but she was surprised to see the turtle head towards the indoor parking lot of the building.

“Wait, you want us to go by car?” she asked, her heels clacking rapidly on the tiled floor as she caught up to him.

“Why not? It’ll be quieter that way! I don’t feel like dealing with crowds in the subway anyway.”

She had to give him that, at least. A car would smell better than a subway train... As they made their way through the lot, she noticed Donnie getting out keys, the woman commenting:

“Huh, I thought you’d have a chauffeur or something like that.”

“Why, because I’m rich?” asked the mutant, amused. “I like driving, so I don’t see why I would leave all that fun to someone else.”

He pressed a button on a small remote attached to a key, which prompted a black SUV nearby to flash its light.

Vee was most certainly impressed by his taste, first observing the vehicle until she noticed the other opening the passenger door for her.

“The lady may take her seat.”

As she took place, her eyes scanned the interior.

The major difference she could notice from any other cars was how the driver seat was rearranged a bit further back, allowing space for the mutant’s shell most probably. As Donnie took place next, Vee couldn’t help her question:

“Is this car completely custom made?”

The other smirked: “If it was, it’d be way cooler. ... Nah for this I only had a Genesis GV80 model slightly modified to accomodate my form. I like the look of it and I don’t need something too extravagant to go around on the streets.”

“ ‘Don’t need something too extravagant’,” quoted the woman. “You do realize that you have an expensive car?”

“Remind me to show you my brother Mikey’s cars,” added Donnie, then starting the car’s ignition. “Then we can talk back about what’s expensive.”

As soon as the vehicle was brought to life, music was heard, being none other than Dio’s “Better In The Dark” track. The turtle rapidly fumbled to turn it down, his eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for that,” he said once silence was back.

“... Are you kidding? You shouldn’t apologize for listening to Dio!” reassured Vee. “That guy frickin’ rocks!”

The terrapin smirked: “Ah, a woman of good taste! You keep on getting better and better.”

Vee couldn’t help her smile in return, the pair then finally getting on the move.

***

Donnie had to park his SUV on a quiet street, the duo next walking towards their destination; New York’s Little Italy. The evening was already laying its shadows in the sky, but the streets were bright and colorful, the warmth in the air of the incoming summer days an absolute delight. A light conversation was held as they were walking, until Vee was abruptly stopped by almost falling due to one of her heels stumbling into a small crack in the sidewalk. She was first surprised by how fast Donnie had been to catching her, a small laugh escaping her. To feel his touch around her, his strength, all she could hear was her heart drumming in her ears. They continued their path, Vee’s arm hooked to Donatello’s. It simply felt like a dream at that point...

They finally arrived to the place; a small rustic looking restaurant that had been hiding from the bigger crowd’s broad sight. There were few patrons inside, the ambiance calm and somehow giving a “feels like home” kind of vibe. Donnie seemed to know the place well, only quickly waving to the staff and already going for a table. It was a nice little corner with a table large enough so they could lay down their paperwork. Being a complete gentleman, the mutant was quick to draw a chair for Vee to sit on, waiting until she was seated properly before settling down across the table. A waiter was already at their disposition, Donnie already asking for a bottle of white wine, interjecting some Italian words in the bunch and ending with a “grazie mille”, to Vee’s surprise.

“You speak Italian?” she asked as the waiter was walking away.

“Non molti, ma un po' sì (Not a lot, but a little bit yes),” he answered. “Still learning, but I’m getting there.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I’ve tried to start learning Japanese alongside my brother Leonardo, but I’m not as proficient as him so far. I’ve also started French.”

Vee couldn’t help herself: “Donc, si je parle dans ma langue maternelle, tu devrais comprendre? (So, if I speak in my native tongue, you should understand?)”

Donnie froze for a moment, soon ruminating the words and showing a smile.

“Un peu (a bit),” he said. “But I feel like I need to practice a little more.” He did not skip a beat when adding: “I don’t know why, but I think a French Canadian’s accent sounds way more interesting than metropolitan French. There’s a certain flair to it, I can’t really explain...”

Vee was most certainly amused: “Try going into any rural parts of Québec, then you’ll feel like you’re speaking to aliens or something. Our French is unique, sometimes butchered, but it is nice indeed.” She did a small shrug. “I could help you practice, if you want.”

Their wine arrived, their glasses filled and the bottle left at their table. Donnie took his glass, pensively rolling the drink in his hand.

“You keep on giving, miss Vee, and I’ll soon feel cheap. First you’re helping me for the Lowline, now you’re proposing to help me with my French. ... My oh my, mademoiselle, I’ll have a debt to repay once again.”

“Let’s start by actually getting something for dinner,” added the woman, lifting the menu to her face in order to hide her blush. “It’ll give me time to think about if I need your help with something. What’s good in here?”

It was so hard to act casual...

“Their pastas are the best, but I’ll have to say that their tiramisu is to die for - I’m definitely grabbing one of those at the end.”

As the evening went along, Vee was finally starting to feel more at ease. The food was delicious, the wine delectable, and the company absolutely charming. They took some time to review the folder Donnie had brought along, talking about the project’s restrictions and demands. It was simple enough thus far, some ideas already boiling in the woman’s mind. Maybe the wine was kicking in, but she didn’t even flinch when her hand brushed the turtle’s over some papers. Her body language was screaming interest, lightly hunched over the table, actively listening to him and her smile tender. She couldn’t quite explain this attraction she felt. All she knew was that Donnie had this aura surrounding him; a welcoming and calm presence that made her feel safe and relaxed. His humor was subtle and his additions to a conversation well-placed. He was a man of many words and of a vast knowledge, although gladly giving the spotlight to any soul speaking, always listening with great interest. Vee could only admit that she wanted to learn more about him.

***

The dinner over, the pair headed back to the SUV, Donnie at least insisting that he could drop Vee to her place. How could she say no to a sweet smile such as his, anyway? The address handed, the ride went on smoothly in a comfortable silence, the woman glancing at the many lights outside - not even noticing that the terrapin would sometimes glance her way and feel this lovesick knot in his chest...

As he parked nearby her apartment building, he did not hesitate to get out as well, at least considering it good etiquette to escort her to the entrance.

“I hope I didn’t make it harder for you by cramming all that information in your face?” he said as they were talking, arms hooked again.

Vee shook her head, amused: “Absolutely not. It has given me ideas, in fact.”

“Good, good.”

As they stopped by the main door, they paused, their hooked arms transitioning into a longing, yet subtle touch of their hands. Vee finally moved her hand away, her blush faint as she removed a small strand of hair from her face.

“... This was nice, thank you,” she said. “Not the habitual work meetup I’m used to, but this was good for a change.”

Donnie quickly cleared his throat, retrieving his thoughts.

“Of course! It was quite pleasant, indeed. ... It’s not often that I get such enjoyable company.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

There it was, that silence as they both crossed gaze. That moment of unspeakable words and uncertain actions... The mutant sweetly smiled, breaking that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. ... Goodnight, Vee.”

“Goodnight, Donnie.” She felt like she could breathe again...

Yet, as she saw the other walk away, she added:

“Donnie!”

He turned back.

“I think I know how you can repay me for the French lessons,” she continued. “... How about another evening together? Not work related this time.”

Joy lightened up the turtle’s features, definitely agreeing: “Absolutely!”

And just like that, the night felt even better.

((Part 5))

[oftenderweapons]

White Wine + Spinach & Artichoke Dip + Chef’s Choice!!

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Wordcount: 2.2k

Genre: drabble for Bangtan Bistro (details here); smut; established relationship

Rating: 18+

Tonight we’re serving

- White wine: Kim Seokjin

- Spinach and Artichoke Dip: smut

- Chef’s choice (Italian Wedding Soup — “Your waiter accidentally spilled a drink on you and keeps apologising profusely, even though you accepted his apology the first time he said it”)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: roleplay (waiter!Seokjin customer!yn), swearing, alcohol consumption, slightly dommy reader, sort of body shots (?) kinda (?), breast worship, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected oral sex (use dental dams ffs!!!). Serious talk here. Angel does a potentially stupid thing: alcohol, sugars and bacteria (all naturally contained in wine) can seriously upset your vagina (more precisely your pH and the bacteria that keep it healthy). Two important things to do if you happen to be dumb enough to imitate her: 1. Pee afterwards (after masturbating, after oral sex or penetrative sex, that’s good anytime you have some action down there) 2. Wash your vulva (the outside of your intimate parts and NOT the inside) with fresh water and specific soap. Sorry for the sex ed note, but I’m a strong advocate for educational smut. 

On a side note, since the word count is tight and I’m not ready to start some characters with a couple lines, I’ll casually put this into a Seokjin x Angel fic (check out Seokjin’s idol!AU masterlist — sksksk sorry for the self promo 😉)

Crediting my (unfaithful) fiancée @joheunsaram for beta reading (SHE LOCKED HERSELF OUT OF HER OLD BLOG, AND SHE’S BUILDING HER NEW ONE, PLEASE GO TAKE A LOOK SHE OWNS THE MOST ADORABLE JOONIE FIC)

Enjoy 💜✨

Sitting at your dinner table felt especially difficult tonight. Maybe because you were hyper aware of the white silk slip you were wearing, and that you had casually found it on top of your bed inside a refined cardboard box with a sophisticated golden swirl on the lid.

“Wear me to get undressed,” the small note inside read, your guts instantly fluttering at the thought. Seokjin’s handwriting spelled nothing but care and attention to detail. You knew his rushed writing and his careful calligraphy. From this detail alone you could tell he had plans. Elaborated ones.

Sitting at the table, you saw him suddenly emerge from the kitchen, in formal slacks and a white shirt, hair swept back, leaving his gorgeous forehead all there for you to see. “Good evening, miss. I’m pleased to see you have returned to our restaurant. I will be your personal waitperson for your stay. Here to serve all your cravings.” He smiled kindly, trying not to stare at your cleavage, gloriously exposed by the low neckline of the slip. The cream colour looked amazing on you. He was almost sorry for what he was about to do.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. This restaurant does indeed have the best service.” You looked up at him with a polite smile. “And the cuisine is unrivalled.”

Of course it was. He was the chef. Although he liked playing a role, he didn’t like faking the food. He always looked it up very carefully. He had his cookbooks. And he had received a new one for his birthday. You had a vague idea of who might have gifted it.

“Would you like to try the chef’s special for the night? I am sure you will be absolutely surprised by it. And I mean in a positive way, of course.” He said, standing with his hands behind his back, which made his whole chest look broader. The two loose buttons at the top of his shirt were forming a small, inviting triangle of smooth skin, glistening under the kitchen lights.

“I’d love to try that. I am sure the chef knows what I like. He’ll sweep me off my feet.”

He looked at the floor with a small bow. “You will be entirely pleased, from appetizers to dessert.” He looked at you from under his lashes. “I will make it my personal goal.”

“Then, we shall begin.” Seokjin exited the room before coming back with a small basket of mixed bread, breadsticks and small bites of toasted bread. “I recommend a fresh, bubbly white wine. A lovely Pinot Gris from Neuchâtel. Fresh, well structured, flowery and on the dryer side. It will mix well with the vegetable-based menu of the night.”

You nodded, very interested — actually interested. Seokjin could play any part he wanted with proper research and dedication. He could probably impersonate a surgeon or an astronaut if he put his mind on it.

“Thank you for the detailed recommendation.” You smiled politely, watching as he opened the bottle and poured just one finger of wine in your glass.

You took a sip and nodded in approval. It was really something different. Seokjin had truly opened a new world to you, made up of International cuisines and niche wines, and finding pleasure in something as basic and necessary as eating and drinking. You doubted you could ever go back to your frugal meals after discovering all the tastes and textures he had introduced you to.

Like the Artichoke dip with scrumptious bacon crumbles on top you had eaten for appetizer. And the mushroom ravioli you had for your main course. Now you were staring at your empty glass, feeling slightly sorry at Seokjin, standing beside you and watching you eat. “May I have more wine, please?” You asked, looking at him sweetly.

With a courteous nod, he moved closer, taking hold of the bottle standing in the cooling bucket right beside you.

You didn’t pay much attention as he accidentally lost balance of the bottle and let his arm twist clumsily, the wine spilling on the front of your silk slip.

It was cold. Very. Especially since it had been cooling in iced water for a solid half hour. And it had been chilling in the fridge before that.

Your nipples hardened immediately, almost as quickly as apologies began to bloom from Seokjin’s lips. “I am so sorry, miss. This is unforgivable. I apologise with my whole being, this is unacceptable—”

You hid your smile quickly as you saw him grab a handkerchief and try to fix the damage, getting on his knees and trying to dab the liquid away. “It’s okay, it can happen. You must have been very tired and hungry.” You tried to sound calm, kind and compassionate, while all you wanted to do was grin and undo his belt.

“I am wholeheartedly sorry, miss, your poor dress, this is unforgivable.”

You tried to stay within your role as he pressed the kerchief to your arm, drying up the liquid.

“Stop apologising, dear, you’re already forgiven.” You said, looking down at him and noticing how his eyes stayed glued to your nipples. “Or maybe you would prefer earning my forgiveness?”

He nodded, averting his gaze and blushing.

You bit your lip at his rosy cheeks, asking yourself how he could reach such a level of impersonation.

“Maybe you could clean me up.” You suggested, pressing two fingers under his chin and making him look at you. “But it would be such a shame to dry it up when you could get a taste of how fine this wine is— and what a delicacy you have been serving all night.”

He looked at you, wide eyed, almost innocent as you took his hand and made him cup the cold, soaked silk covering your left breast. “Come on, you can take a lick, darling. Don’t hesitate.” You encouraged him, leaning forward, the naked skin just above the neckline meeting his gaze with cool, flowery-scented pearls of wine running down the curve of your breast and slowly soaking your dress.

Not entirely convinced, he shyly let the tip of his tongue peek from his parted lips, giving the tiniest lick to the fabric, acting oblivious to the way your skin sizzled at the thought of being met by his sensual touch.

He gave one more lick, collecting the liquid on the fabric that stuck to your skin and left no room for modesty, exposing even the usually hidden dark spots of your moles.

“You need to suck or you won’t get the real taste.” You said, his lips disappearing into his mouth as he tried to hide a smile. You were glad you still managed to get him out of character every now and then. Though that was rare. He is a professional, after all.

He moved closer to your skin, the wet kerchief plopping to the floor as his hand landed on your knee. You turned toward him, giving him more access as he stood on his knees and licked at the skin over your breastbone, looking into your eyes as the other hand lowered the top of your dress so that he could dip his tongue on the crevasse of your breasts. He slurped up the liquid lewdly, clicking his tongue. “Very fresh. Flowery, as the seller promised it to be. Absolutely delicious.” He grinned. “Perfect to pair off with more delicate meats.” He replied expertly, brow creased in acknowledgement as he explained. “Maybe we could try more delicate cuts.” He hinted before diving for your nipple, sucking it in his mouth from over the fabric, the stark contrast between the cold feel of the fabric and the hot saliva mixing up with the wine. The hand on your knee slid toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh and spreading your legs open as the other hand came to help.

There was no more hiding at this point.

“Miss?” He called once his hand reached your outer hip, searching for the thong supposed to match the slip.

“Yes, dear?”

“Something’s missing.” He said, giving you a dirty look.

“I guess I’ll be the one who needs to apologise, after all.” You said coquettishly while he licked your other breast, sucking and biting to get as much wine as possible.

You knew there was a low chance of you being bruised or marked the day after — silk is a sturdy fabric after all — but the idea of finding such signs of passion on your skin got you impatient. “Maybe you could have a taste of the finest cut. It must be so frustrating watching people eat the delicacies and leave you there, standing.”

He nodded with a sorry look in his eyes before nuzzling his face against your breasts. “May I, miss?” He requested, so handsome and kind.

“Of course, darling.”

With a breathy chuckle, he parted your legs even farther apart, tugging the skirt up and finding your naked, wet cunt right before his hungry eyes. “A fine cut indeed, miss.”

“All yours to eat,” you purred, the low, sultry tone turning into a light moan as you felt his finger enter you.

“Creamy.” He murmured, drawing circles against your g-spot before lowering his face and taking a quick sniff. “The aromatic complex is overall round and well built.” He destroyed you by simply adding a slow, wide lick, parting from you and clicking his tongue a few times. “Salty… with just the right amount of sour. Deeply inviting. Aphrodisiac to say the least.” He growled between your labia. “I will gladly feast on it, miss.”

You smiled. “All you need to do is get started already.”

He did. He treacherously added one more finger, acting completely casual as he slipped two digits inside you and started teasing your g spot, rubbing it in a way that let you know he intended to make you explode in a matter of five minutes at worst, two at best.

To top it all off, his tongue swirled against your folds, giving neat, flat strokes from your hole to your clit.

You stared at the wine, knowing precisely that you shouldn’t do that, and that you were risking it. Nevertheless, he might call you Angel all he wants but he knew your true nature and you had hidden it for way too long.

With a devilish smirk, you stretched out your arm to the table, grabbing the bottle before holding his head in place, squealing once you felt his fingers go deeper as you scooted your ass forward, leaning back and transforming your torso in an awfully slippery slope.

Seokjin stared as you bunched the slip up, exposing your breasts to the chilly air, rubbing the freezing glass of the bottle against your nipples — one at a time — moaning once Jin started moving his fingers faster inside you.

As he hummed and you felt your edge crumble, you pressed the rim of the bottle to your navel and tipped the bottle downwards, a small rivulet running down all the way to your pelvis, while also getting caught on the crease of your belly and dribbling along your sides. The cold sensation gave you a chill that mixed with the fiery hot flame in your guts and made you lose your mind completely.

Seokjin was completely drowning in the sight and feel and sounds of you. You were giving small breaths that almost turned in whines when you exhaled too hard and too quick, your hips were undulating right against his tongue and his nose was perfectly slotted between your folds and his hand. He felt your high peak, your muscles pulsating as the cold liquid met his tongue, his mouth confidently switching to a sucking motion now that he knew you were turning more sensitive and he had to let your clit go. What he didn’t let go of was your g spot, devotedly worshipped by his soft fingertips while he focused on sipping all the wine away. There was maybe the equivalent of two glasses left inside the bottle, so he let you execute your foolish plan without worry.

Your eyes opened slowly as the wine stopped flowing, his fingers slowing down as your hand met his wrist.

You were ecstatic and aroused at the same time, especially once Jin cleaned his face with the back of his hand, eyes focused on yours.

“My favourite meal.” He murmured, licking his lips, placing his hands around your waist as he got back on his feet, kissing your left nipple, and then your right one on his way up.

“Let me clean up here. Get in the shower.” He murmured gently. “You owe me some apologies, am I right?” He provoked, dangerous warning lining his voice.

You weren’t in control anymore. “Yes, sir.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot- Out Of My League

Intro: Steve can tell Katie’s feeling a little bit down. But in true Cap style, he’s not gonna give up until he figures out why and a way to make it better….

Warnings: Bad language. NSFW (SMUT!) No under 18s.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  Someone once commented when reading Stark Spangled Banner that they felt like Katie loved Steve more than he loved her, and that got me seriously doubting the way I had written Steve as that is most certainly not the case. The pair of them are ridiculously in love and Steve is utterly besotted with his girl, and let’s not forget spent fifteen years alone in the past to ensure he could come back to her and live the rest of his days out with the love of his life. Also worth remembering he came back looking like Ari Levinson (it was the 70s) and he kept the beard simply because she liked it…what better declaration of love?!

With this in mind, I asked a few people what they thought and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ came back with a perfect song which she said she feels en-CAP=sulates (pun intended) Steve’s feelings towards Katie. So I’ve taken a different format to usual and pulled together a Song Based Fic based on a little request from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for some soft Steve.

Written with Steve’s POV in mind.

The song is Stephen Speaks- Out Of My League. Take a listen, because it’s phenomenally beautiful.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 September 2027

It’s her hair and her eyes today That just simply take me away And the feeling that I’m falling further in love Makes me shiver but in a good way

“Hey Pal.” Steve smiled softly, picking his baby son up out of the basinet. Instantly Harry’s soft whimpers died down as he pressed his face into his dad’s shoulder, his soft head nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“You hungry?” He asked gently, carrying the six week old baby into the kitchen to grab him a bottle out of the fridge. Once he’d warmed it, checked it, he returned to the sitting room and began to feed him, Harry’s little cheeks working eagerly as he took his milk. Steve watched as his baby boy turned his bright blue eyes onto his and he smiled down at his son, gently adjusting his arms to make sure he was settled comfortably before he glanced up at the clock.

Katie should be back soon from dropping the elder two littles off and Steve was hoping that Rori had decided to get out of the damned car without a full on fight like the one he’d had with her the previous morning. His little Star Spangled Diva really wasn’t happy about the fact she had to go to Nursery when Harry could stay home all day. And she didn’t care when he’d explained to her that Harry was a baby and therefore was too little to go to nursery. She’d screamed and screamed and yelled about the fact that it wasn’t fair but her tantrum had simply made Steve even more determined get her out of the car and through the fucking door. In the end he had carried her in and explained to the familiar members of staff from Jamie’s time there, what was going on.They’d simply smiled at him, told him they’d dealt with worse (he didn’t voice the fact that he seriously doubted that) and he’d set her down on the floor, crouched in front of her and told her to be a good girl and he’d be back in a few hours, leaving her screaming behind him as he walked off. It had almost killed him but he was thankful it was him doing it and not Katie as she constantly doubted her decisions at a mother as it was and he knew that, despite all the teasing Katie did about Rori being Steve’s little Princess, she would be the one that caved and brought her home as she couldn’t bear to leave her behind, screaming.

Both of them loved Rori with everything they had, just the same as all their kids, but Jesus Christ she was the hardest one to deal with out of the lot of them, especially when she didn’t get her own way. Just like her mother, Steve often teased Katie, although he knew that deep down that was a slightly un-fair comparison. Whilst Katie was certainly prone to her little brat moments, she was utterly selfless when it came to the kids and her family and friends, one of the many things he adored about her.

Lucky’s ears pricked up, and his tail started to thump against the rug and moments later Steve heard the door open and shut. She walked into the living room and he instantly frowned at her face, he could see she’d been crying.

“Honey?” He asked, looking at her as she walked towards him, running her finger softly over Harry’s cheek.

“I literally fed him about an hour before I left.” She chuckled, avoiding Steve’s questioning eyes. “You and your damned serum.” Steve watched her as she sat down next to him, tucking her legs under her on the chair, her long hair falling over her face slightly.

“Katie,” he spoke a little more sternly and he saw her take a deep breath and turn her face to him, “what’s wrong? Was she a pain in the ass again?” “No, actually, she was perfect.” Katie smiled. “Got out of the car, walked in, smiled at everyone and headed off to play. I nearly fainted in surprise.” “So why have you been crying?” “I had a baby six weeks ago, it’s just hormones. Honestly, I’m fine.” Steve could tell she was lying, he always could. Her eyes avoided his as she couldn’t ever lie to his face. But whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him so he let it slide.

For now.

“Okay” he said, looking at her. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, why don’t we head out for the afternoon?”

“Shouldn’t you be prepping ready for going back for your pre-term meetings next week?” She looked at him and he shrugged.

“I’ll catch up.” He said with a smile. “Spending time with you is more important.”

Katie smiled and peered over at Harry who had stopped drinking. Steve gently placed the bottle onto the coffee table and moved Harry so he was over his shoulder, rubbing at his back.

“Anywhere in mind?”

“Well,” Steve looked at her, “we really should get you a new car.”

“Steve, I’m not…” “Just, hear me out,” he said, silencing her. “I’m not asking you to get rid of the Camero, I know how much that car means to you.”

She looked down and took a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, it’s a lump of metal but…” “Tony got it you, I know.” Steve said softly “But I’m driving it now all the time because you need the Audi for the kids so I thought maybe we should get another one. The Camero can be your little, I dunno, fun car.” “Fun car?” Katie looked at him, smiling as he shrugged.

“Yeah, one that we can snatch a drive in every once in a while when we’re alone. Although I know that hardly happens now.” Katie gave a chuckle, before she shrugged. “Okay, we could go car hunting I suppose.” “And grab lunch?” Steve looked at her.

“Sure.” She nodded before she smiled a little.

“What you thinking?” Steve asked. “How much I loved my range rover that I got for my twenty-first.” A fond look crossed her face. Steve smiled, that had been the car she’d had when he’d first met her, and it had been flatted under the triskelion.

“Yeah, that was a nice car. Why don’t we go and see about getting you another one?”

“Yeah, maybe…” At that point Harry let out a burp and both parents looked at him, Steve giving his head a kiss.

“Here, I’ll take him. You go get showered and then we can head out.” Katie gestured with her arms. Steve gently passed him over and she held him close, his head resting on her chest, his little legs supported by her arms. Steve stood up, dropped a soft kiss to his wife’s lips and then headed up the stairs to get changed.

***** All the times I have sat and stared As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair And she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me Sitting there slack-jawed and nothing to say

The car shopping went better than Steve had anticipated. The minute Katie had sat in one of the vehicles in the Range Rover showroom he’d seen her face light up, as she checked all the buttons and the various gadgets the car had, asking the sales man various questions. Forty minutes or so later, after a heavy negotiation during which his wife had almost reduced the salesman to a quivering wreck, they left, Katie having ordered a Firenze red Range Rover Velar. Katie had smiled at the colour, saying it reminded her of Tony’s Iron Man suit, which had made Steve chuckle a little at her confession.

And then she had suggested that they look for a newer car for Steve too. He’d protested at first, as he didn’t think he needed one but she’d shrugged and simply replied ‘when is anything we buy ever really about what we need?’

As a result, they’d swung into the Porsche showroom on their way back in, and an hour later Steve was the owner of a sleek silver Cayenne in a grey-blue colour, with tan leather interior which would be delivered in about ten weeks, not long before Katie’s was due. He’d fallen in love with the model the moment he had sat inside it. It was fancy, well finished, and felt beyond luxurious. And on the test drive he’d taken whilst Katie fed Harry again, it was fucking fast too, which easily satisfied his inner speed-demon.

“Well that was an expensive morning.” Steve grinned as they sat in the small bistro not far from Jamie’s school, Harry once more asleep in his pram as they both studied the menu.

“We’ve had worse.” Katie smiled and Steve snorted, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, okay the house. I’ll give you that.” She smiled and Steve watched her glance through the menu, her hand brushing her hair back behind her ears as she bit her lip and studied the options for lunch. And there it was again, that look on her face, the one he knew meant something was bothering her. Before he had chance to push her further on it the waiter appeared and they placed their order. Steve opting for a pizza, because well he’d eat that stuff every meal of the day if he could, and Katie went for a chicken Caesar salad stating she fancied a change from her usual choice here of Carbonara. Steve waited until the man had bustled off before he reached over the table and gently took Katie’s hand.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honestly.” She looked at him, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“You know I can tell when you’re holding back on me. I’ve known you for too long now sweetheart.” She looked down at the table and took a breath, “Steve, I don’t wanna talk about it, not here, not now.”

“Katie…” “Please.” She looked at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head “Don’t.” Steve took a deep breath and sat back, holding his hands up in surrender “Okay, but this is not the end of this conversation.” “Don’t I know it,” she grumbled, giving him a look, “you’re like a dog with a bone when you get going.” “I’ll give you a bone if you want.” He quipped, dropping his voice and leaning over the table. It wasn’t often he made a dirty joke like that in public, but it had the desired effect. Her cheeks flushed and she raised an eyebrow at him, a cheeky grin flitting across her face, whatever worry it was she had forgotten for the moment.

“Steven Grant Rogers.” She sniggered, shaking her head and he shrugged, leaning back in his chair, eyeing her over his beer as he took a sip.

“You don’t want?” He titled his head to the side. “I didn’t say that.” “So you do…”

“Piss off, Steve.” She laughed, making him grin again.

**** ‘Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause she’s all that I see And she’s all that I need And I’m out of my league once again

“Daddy!” Rori shrieked as Steve walked into the nursery. He smiled as she barrelled towards him and he scooped her up, placing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey, princess!” He smiled, “You had a good day?” “Yeah we did erm painting and some games and I fallded over but I’m okay.” “She took a tumble when they were outside on the playground.” Sally, one of the nursery assistants advised Steve, passing him an envelope. “It wasn’t anything major, she bumped her knee. She didn’t seem to even notice, or care, but we’re obliged to write it up.” “Thanks.” Steve smiled, taking the report from her and tucking it into his pocket. He wasn’t worried, she was like her brother in that respect. The half of her that was him was her robustness to general knocks and tumbles and germs, thanks to the serum. He placed her down on the floor and told her to collect her things, watching as she headed over to the little peg that contained her small pink backpack and her jacket.

“How’s the little one?” Sally asked and Steve turned to her, smiling.

“He’s great.” Steve beamed. “Such a placid baby, in comparison to the other two anyway, certainly her.” He added with a nod towards Rori. Sally chuckled. “Yeah, a lot of parents say that the youngest ones are often the easiest. I think it’s because as Parents you relax a little more and they feel it. You should tell Mrs Rogers to bring him in one morning, we’ve not met him yet.” “I will.” Steve smiled, nodding as Rori came back. He gently helped her put her jacket on before he stood up, thanked the staff again and led her outside to the car.

“Where’s momma?” Rori asked.

“She’s at home with Harry. We just gotta go pick Jamie up and then we can go home.” “Okay.” she said. She fell silent for a moment before she suddenly chirped up again. “Daddy, my knee hurts.”

Steve glanced down at her sceptically as he opened the car door. “Does it? Or are you just angling for sympathy?” Rori pondered for a moment before she grinned. “Sympathy.”

Steve snorted, she was honest at least. He sat her in her car seat in the back of the car, buckling her in before he pressed a kiss to the knee she was pointing at. “Better?” “Yes, fankoo.” “You’re welcome.” He smiled, shutting the door and heading to the driver’s side to climb in. He drove the few blocks to Jamie’s school, pulling into the pick-up area and nodded to the staff member who was on duty. Jamie waved and Steve had to snort at the state of him. His tie was completely wonky, his jacket was open, shirt untucked… typical seven year old boy. He shot over to the car as Steve climbed out, opening the trunk so he could stick his rucksack in the back before he moved to give his dad a quick hug.

“Had a good day, Son?”

Jamie nodded and climbed into the car, sitting on the booster in the front. Steve clipped him in and then made to head home.

“Guess what me and Momma did today.” Steve looked at Jamie as he pulled out of the school grounds and onto the road.

“What?” “Bought two new cars.” “What did you get?” Jamie grinned

“Well, Momma got a range rover, a red one. And I got a Porsche.” “Cool.” Jamie nodded his approval. “Is momma happier now?”

Steve frowned. “What makes you ask that, buddy?” “When we dropped Rori off before she got upset.”

“Did she say why?” “She told me when we walked back to the car that it was just her feelings from having Harry.” Jamie shrugged.

Steve pondered for a moment, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel before he turned to his son again. “Did she speak to anyone when you dropped Rori off?” “Just Sally.” Jamie shrugged. “There were some other ladies there but Momma didn’t speak to them.”

“Okay, well, don’t worry about it.” Steve nodded to assure the boy. He knew Jamie hated seeing his mother upset. “She’s fine, like she said, just her feelings from Harry.” They drove home, Steve chatting to Jamie and Rori as they went but his mind was still on his wife. He knew now that whatever was bothering her had to be something to do with Rori’s nursery, or something that had happened when she had dropped her off.

And it gave him an angle to approach her with.

In typical fashion, the kids shot into the kitchen and Katie greeted them both with a smile from where she had been stood preparing their dinner. The two of them began instantly gabbling away, both filling her in about their day and Steve leaned on the doorway, watching as his wife talked to both of them, crouching down to look them both in the eyes as they thrust various pieces of paper at her. He loved watching her interact with their children, it was simply something he found astonishing how easy it came to her. Being a mother had highlighted every single trait he found so damned attractive about her even more and it lit a fire in his belly every single time he saw it.  She glanced up at him and he gave her a smile, pushing off the door frame and walking into the room, passing Harry who was still asleep in the basinet in the corner of the room.

“He not woke up?” Steve asked and Katie shook her head.

“We’re gonna suffer for that tonight.” She sighed and Steve chuckled, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

“Jamie,” he turned to his son who’s hand was sneaking up onto the counter next to Katie to grab a piece of cheese she had been grating. Jamie grinned at his dad as he popped into his mouth with a shrug. Steve rolled his eyes, smiling, “go change pal, get out of your uniform.”

“Okay.” he agreed, heading out of the kitchen.

“I change too, daddy?” Rori looked at him.

“You don’t need to.”

“But I want to.” She folded her arms and Steve looked at Katie who gave a snort as they both observed their little Diva.

“What do you want to change into?” Steve asked, picking her up.

“Bumble bear.” “You wanna wear your bear onesie?”

She nodded.

“Alright, come on.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it, the pair of them heading upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, both kids were settled in the den, the pair of them looking at a jigsaw puzzle. Telling Jamie that he was on ‘big brother’ duties, basically an instruction to be careful and keep Rori out of mischief as much as he could, he headed into the kitchen to find Katie now wiping down the counters, a pasta bake in the oven.

“Jamie said you were upset this morning after you left the nursery.” Steve’s arms wrapped around his wife from behind and he felt her still slightly “Come on, Doll, what’s been eating you all day?”

“Nothing, I’m just being stupid.” She shrugged, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Katie,” his voice was stern and he lowered his head slightly, his eyebrows raising as he gave her a look that instructed her to tell the truth.

With a sigh she lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just overheard a few of the moms talking that’s all, I don’t think they realised I was behind them. It’s no big deal.” “What were they saying?” “They just,” Katie took a deep breath, “they made a comment about Rori and how like me she looked, and then one of them said or at least how I used to look anyway.”

Steve frowned, staying silent and waiting for her to finish.

“Then they kinda laughed and said that I’d certainly ‘let myself go’ a little after the latest one,” she raised her hands and framed the offending three words with phrase marks by bending the index and middle fingers on each hand forward twice in symmetry.

Steve fought hard to keep his face straight and not display they anger he was feeling inside. Fuck, he loved this woman, and the thought of anyone saying something so damned cruel it would upset her made him furious.

“They manage to look all neat and tidy for the school run and I,” Katie shook her head, “it’s all I can do to make sure my top is on the right way round.

“Honey,” Steve shook his head, “we have three small kids, all who need breakfast and dressing in the morning, and one of whom is barely six weeks old.” “Yeah I know, and I know I need to give myself time but,” she shrugged, “you know that each time I’ve been pregnant I’ve kept some weight somewhere.” “So?” Steve frowned

“I don’t know, I guess I just miss being the size I was. It doesn’t matter, I told you, I was being stupid.” She shook her head. “I’ll get over it.”

Steve looked at her for a second, his head cocked to one side. Whilst it was true that post Jamie her hips had remained slightly larger as had her chest. And the added curve to her ass hadn’t completely been there before she’d had Rori, but her stomach had returned to being fairly flat post both of their previous kids, even if it wasn’t a washboard of muscle like it had when she was at the peak of her SHIELD or Avenging days. Her waist had remained fairly small and all of this had simply given her a killer hourglass figure he fucking loved, and one that he’d noticed various other men casting approving glances over on more than one occasion.

And yes, now six weeks after giving birth she was still carrying extra baby weight over and above all that but Steve frankly didn’t’ give a shit. She was gorgeous to him, and always would be.

“Well I don’t miss it.” Steve looked at her, his hands falling to her hips as he pulled her closer. “Sweetheart, before Jamie you were tiny, it’s skewing your perception. I could practically connect my hands around your waist.” She looked at him as he continued, to speak, shaking his head. “We’ve both changed, as you told me not long ago.”

“But it looks good on you.”

“Yeah, and having our babies looks good on you, too.” He pressed and she gave a soft smile, looking at him. “Just don’t think on it please, I love you. I always will. You know this.” “I know, sorry, like I said, I was just having an off day and,” she nuzzled into his chest as his strong arms wrapped around her back, “I guess the hormones kinda made it worse.”

“Well I’ll make it better later.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

“Yeah, you finally gonna give me that bone?” She snorted and he laughed.

“Damned right…” he muttered, his lips brushing hers lightly. “My baby momma…” ******

It’s a masterful melody When she calls out my name to me As the world spins around her she laughs, rolls her eyes And I feel like I’m falling but it’s no surprise

Steve’s hands were all over his wife as she sat, straddled over his lap on the sofa. After putting the kids to bed they’d been cuddled up watching a film, and he’d simply been watching her sat there, playing with her hair, biting her thumb, and then his self-control had finally snapped and he had pulled her onto his lap with one aim only.

His mouth trailed soft kisses up her neck to that spot behind her ear as his fingers began gently undoing the buttons on the front of the plaid shirt she was wearing, the shirt that as ever belonged to him. He opened them slowly one by one and Katie moved her head to catch his mouth with hers, her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He obliged, opening his mouth, his own tongue dipping into hers with smooth strokes as he gently reached the last button of the shirt and pushed it down over her shoulders, where it dropped to the floor.

His forehead pressed to hers and he looked down at her, giving a soft groan as his hands gripped her hips pulling her down further onto his lap, grinding up against her through his sweats. He was rock hard already, the sight of her sat on front of him was enough to make him lose his mind completely.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled, his lips grazing over her collar bone as one of his hands slid up her body, where it gently began to knead at her bra clad breast, softly teasing her nipple beneath the lace. He knew she was tender there, and he couldn’t go to town on them as much as he would like to but that was another thing that fucking turned him on so much. The fact that she was nursing his baby son, knowing that her body was nurturing him was so goddamned fucking amazing it had him low key horny all the time.

“Off…” She mumbled against his lips, hands grabbing at the bottom of his T’shirt and Steve sat forward slightly to allow her to pull it over his head and her hands ran through his hair, down his now bare back and up again, before she gently cupped her face with her hands, the pads of her fingers gently pressing into the whiskers of his beard as she leaned down for another kiss. Steve’s large hands flattened on her back, pulling her closer to him, their chests pressed together, lips locked deeply. Once more Steve titled his hips, causing Katie’s breath to catch in her throat and she pulled away slightly to look at him, Steve’s own breathing hitching slightly at the look of love and adoration his wife had on her face. One he knew he was mirroring completely.

Tilting his hips slightly, he raised them both easily off the sofa, and Katie instantly worked his sweats and boxers down over his slim waist. Without another second of hesitation he moved her panties to one side with one hand as he grasped his achingly hard cock in the other as Katie gently positioned herself before she sank down slowly onto him giving a soft mewl as he filled her, his hands returning to her waist once she had taken him in completely. With a grunt of his own, he held her still for a moment, before he bucked his hips upwards, Katie meeting him as she pushed down, tilting her hips so he was driving up against her spot. They found a rhythm, easily, as always. It was a well-worn dance between the pair of them after so many years together but a dance that Steve would never get tired of. Every single time it felt just as good as the last, and as Katie rolled her hips slightly, moving her forwards an inch Steve’s head fell back against the back cushions on the sofa, his hands cradling her close.

“Feel so fucking good,” he praised, his hips slamming upwards again, her moans of pleasure filling the room as she pushed downwards. He leaned forward, his mouth gently pressing kissing to her sternum and throat and she gave a shudder, rotating her hips urgently as Steve continued to push up and greet her movement for movement.

“Stevie…I’m…” she panted softly, her head falling forwards to catch his mouth and he felt her twitch around him, meaning she was close. His hands snaked into her hair, holding her face still as he kissed her hard, hips snapping forwards. With a soft cry, she stilled slightly, her moans flowing into Steve’s mouth as he felt her fluttering around him as she came and he wasn’t far behind. He pushed up, thrusting through her orgasm before he reached his own, with a groan that bubbled from his chest, his eyes closing in utter bliss as the feeling overwhelmed him. They both sat still for a moment, utterly spent, Steve’s hands skating up his wife’s back as she gave a soft hum of contentment, her head resting against his.

Steve gently pulled back, his hand tilting Katie’s chin up gently so he could kiss her again, soflty, and he smiled against her mouth, before Harry gave a shrill cry from the cradle in the corner of the room, reminding them of something that they had both forgotten during the last blissful fifteen minutes of pure lust and passion. They weren’t just Steve and Katie anymore, they were Momma and Daddy.

And Steve wouldn’t change ANYTHING about that for the world.

*****

'Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause it’s frightening to be Swimming in this strange sea But I’d rather be here than on land

The next morning they altered their routine slightly. Jamie was dropped at school first and then Steve drove to Nursery to drop Rori off, complete with Harry so the staff could meet him for the first time. Steve kept a careful watch on his wife as she got out of the car, smoothing her hair back slightly as she helped Rori out, the pair of them making their way through the gates and into the building. Steve followed behind, the car seat containing Harry in his hand.

Once inside, Rori bounded off to see her friends and the nursery staff immediately crowded around Harry as Katie smiled and Steve gently placed the seat on the main desk. Katie lifted him out and handed him to Sally who beamed and gently took him in her arms.

“Oh, Mrs Rogers,” she looked at Katie then to Steve, “Sir, he’s beautiful,” she beamed, rocking him slightly as Harry’s hands gently fisted in the air, his eyes focussed on the older woman as she smiled at him.

“Just like his Momma.” Steve’s arm curled round Katie as he pressed a kiss to her head. She nudged him with her elbow as she flushed slightly.

Once the staff had all finished preening over Harry, Katie made sure he was secure in his seat again and they both made their way back outside. Steve clipped the seat back onto the base in the rear of the car and then stood up, glancing over the top of the door at Katie but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, her eyes were watching something behind him and he turned to see two women as they walked down the sidewalk towards them, both of them leading a child each. Instantly he noticed his wife’s demeanour change as she tugged at the bottom of her top, pulling it away from her body and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who those women were.

Hell, no. Not on his watch.

Ignoring the surge of anger in his stomach he shut the door to the car gently and without a word grabbed his wife and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a moment to respond, he’d surprised her that much, but she smiled against his mouth as he kissed her deeply, his hands sliding down to give her ass a quick squeeze.

“What was that for?” She asked a little breathlessly as he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Do I need a reason?” He smiled.

“No, suppose not.” She grinned, patting his chest. “Come on, we never had breakfast before and I’m starving.” She moved away from him and Steve opened the passenger door for her to climb in. Shutting it softly he turned and saw the two women looking at him. He raised an eyebrow challengingly, his hands dropping to his buckle.

“Morning.” His voice remained neutral but carried that undertone of a challenge, in the way he always managed when slipping back into Captain mode.

“Err, good morning, Captain…errr… Mr Rogers.” One of them spoke, smiling. “I’m not sure what you go by now.” “Neither am I.” He shrugged simply “Bur Mr Rogers is fine, thanks. Reminds me I’m married. And who doesn’t want to be reminded they’re married to the most beautiful gal on the planet huh?” He smiled broadly. “Even if some people think she looks a little different now from when we first met…”

The smile on both their faces slipped a little and Steve levelled them both with a look, leaving them in no uncertain terms as to what he was saying and had to fight the smirk that was threatening to spread on his face as he could tell instantly that he had embarrassed them, which had completely been his intent. Both women flushed a deep shade of red and they both hastily bid him good-day as they bustled up the path towards the main door.

Steve climbed into the car, and Katie turned to him.

“You’re such a bitch.” she smirked, and he looked at her, not even attempting to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. He was busted, but he didn’t care.

“Well they shouldn’t be trash talking my wife.” He shrugged. Katie shook her head gently before she leaned over to give him a soft kiss.

“Still going all protective over me, huh Soldier?” “Always.” He nodded as she pressed her lips gently to his again. Smiling, she tucked her hair behind her ears before they both settled down and Steve snapped the car into drive, pulling off into the steady stream of morning traffic.

Yes she’s all that I see And she’s all that I need And I’m out of my league once again

 **original posting**

[kurodachimagic]

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

--

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

[lasting-inkpressions]

Why not me? (Chapter Two)

Summary: Denali has been single all his life, and has always been secretly envious of everyone around him being able to find love so easily. Rosé proposes the perfect solution for his best friend.

Note: I hope you have a sweet tooth.

Prefer reading it on AO3?

It had been a day since Denali and Rosé had agreed to be boyfriends. Denali would have chalked it up to a weird dream or just a prank had it not been for the photographic proof on his Instagram, and of course the teasing from his friends. His group chat with Rosé and their small clique had blown up that very morning, something he’d only learned after checking his phone when he’d left Rosé’s apartment in the evening.

There were a few saying that they had seen the relationship coming a mile away, with Kandy teasing Denali that he was finally going to make an honest man out of Rosé, Olivia asking when the wedding date was and Gottmik proclaiming that they would surely make the most gorgeous babies. Denali had laughed at the messages, and had wanted to explain the circumstances to his friends, but decided not to. A small part of him was worried about what they would think if they found out how and why Rosé and him had gotten together. Besides, Rosé himself wasn’t saying anything, just replying everyone with emojis instead of words.

To be honest, Denali wasn’t really sure what to do with his new found relationship. Rosé and him were already in the habit of texting almost every day, and they did see each other on an almost daily basis. They already did a lot of things together even before they became boyfriends, like watching movies, having dinner, regularly going over to each other’s houses, sending each other random texts… What else was there to do? They already knew almost everything about the other and practically lived in each other’s pockets. He began second guessing himself and had considered calling the whole thing off, wanting to tell everyone that it was all just a joke.

Maybe this really was a joke and Rosé himself would call it off.

All those thoughts had led to Denali tripping a lot during his routine warm ups before the first Monday morning skating class he was teaching.

During his lunch break, Denali had retreated to the diner near the rink. He needed some comfort food after the rough morning he had. For some reason the kids he usually taught were being extremely difficult that day, refusing to follow his instructions, and his messy thoughts weren’t exactly helping with his patience either. He drummed his fingers on the table as he looked through the menu when his phone pinged. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw that Rosé had texted him.

R: Hey there, boyfriend (;

Denali stared at his phone for a beat, face heating up at that one word.

Boyfriend.

What was he, 12?

Swallowing, Denali wasn’t sure how to reply. Should he reply as he normally would with a “Rosie”? Should he call Rosé “boyfriend” too? If he did that, would it mean that they really were boyfriends and that he could no longer take it back?

Before he could think it through, his phone pinged again with another message.

R: I know it’s a little last minute, but wanna have dinner at Carson’s tonight?

Denali blinked. Dinner with Rosé? At Carson’s? Was it a date? Or was it just a casual dinner? Were dinners between boyfriends automatically considered dates? Oh god, he wasn’t sure.

His phone lit up again with another message.

R: No pressure though if you’re tired out from your Monday classes. I know how intense they can be.

He melted a little on the inside. He knew that Rosé was a caring friend, but with the added dimension of him being his boyfriend now, somehow it was hitting a little different. He smiled as his fingers quickly typed out his response.

D: Hey Rosie, morning was a bit rough but dinner with you sounds perfect <3

————————————————————————

Denali was freaking out. After his last afternoon class had wrapped up, he had rushed back home to get ready for his dinner with Rosé. The Scot had texted him earlier that he was going to pick him up at 6pm. It was already 5.45pm, and he still hadn’t figured out what to wear. Carson’s wasn’t a fancy, high class place by any means, but it was still nicer than the places they’d normally have dinner at. This had caused Denali to panic and second guess all the clothes that he owned, and the fact that he still wasn’t sure if it was a dinner date or if it was just another normal night out. He stared at the pile of rejected clothes and sighed, going back to his closet to see what else he could dig out when he heard the doorbell ring.

Rosé was early.

Denali groaned and walked to the front door, opening it to find Rosé in a fitted red blazer with black jeans, holding a bouquet of brilliant red roses.

Okay, so it was a date.

Rosé was looking at Denali, a strange look passed on his face before he smirked.

“A bit eager for dessert already, aren’t you?”

Confused, Denali frowned before he noticed the cold draft on his skin and promptly shut the door on a laughing Rosé. He had been so distracted with his search for the right outfit that he had completely forgotten that he had been in nothing but his underwear when he’d answered the door. He marched back to his bedroom, face as red as the roses he had just seen as he heard the front door opening again, footsteps following him in.

“Looks like someone still isn’t ready.”

Denali shot Rosé a withering look as he threw on a shirt. “No, I was absolutely going to leave the house in just my underwear.”

Snickering, Rosé carefully laid the bouquet down on the bed and stood next to Denali as he carried on rummaging through whatever was left in his closet. Taking one look at the pile of clothes near Denali, the corner of Rosé’s mouth twitched as he watched him continue to add on to the rejected pile on the floor. He wasn’t about to say it out loud, but watching Denali struggle to find something to wear for their first dinner date together was kind of cute. Rosé scanned whatever was left in Denali’s closet and spotted a black woollen fabric in the corner that looked to have fallen off its hanger. Reaching over, he plucked it out of the closet and held it up.

It was a black woollen sweater with a v-neck. He had seen Denali wear it a few times and had always thought he looked good in it, with how it showed off the right amount of collarbones and hugged at his body in the right places. He tapped the frustrated boy on the shoulder and offered the top to him. “What about this?”

Denali looked up at him, then down at the sweater, taking it from Rosé after a moment’s deliberation. He pulled off his tee and replaced it with the black top while Rosé rummaged about for a bit before pulling out a pair of tight grey jeans and passing that over too. Denali pulled them on, missing Rosé’s gaze lingering on his ass as he shimmied into them. Buttoning them up and shoving up the sleeves of the sweater, Denali turned to him. “What do you think?”

Rosé smiled as he brushed a stray piece of Denali’s hair back into place. “Perfect.” Turning around to retrieve the bouquet, he presented the roses to Denali. “And these are for you.” Denali looked at the red roses and smiled bashfully, taking them from Rosé. It wasn’t the first time that Denali had received a bouquet. He’d been presented with a few from various skating competitions he’d previously won, but this was different. This was a beautiful bouquet of deep red roses, and they were from his best friend now turned boyfriend.

“Thank you Rosie, you shouldn’t have.”

The older gasped in faux offence, “Well, I guess I’ll return them then.” Denali laughed and turned away from Rosé as he reached over, pretending to want to take them back. “No way! You’ve already given them to me, so you can’t take them back.” He stuck his tongue out at Rosé before burying his nose in the red blooms and took in their sweet scent. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a vase from under the sink, carefully arranging the flowers in it. Feeling a hand on the small of his back and his phone being slid into his right pocket, Rosé herded him to the front door. “Now let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late for our reservation.”

Denali pulled away, “Wait a sec, let me get my wallet.” Rosé chuckled as he pulled the boy back to him.

“It’s fine, you won’t need it.”

————————————————————————

Initially there had been protests from Denali when he figured out that Rosé had wanted to pay for dinner. He’d already bought him roses and from the looks of them and the thick silk ribbons they had been tied in, they couldn’t have been cheap. He hadn’t been able to argue for long though as Rosé had all but pushed him out of his apartment and into his car. Throughout most of the drive, Denali had been pouting at him and pretending to sulk, but Rosé knew that it had all just been a cover up for Denali’s shyness at the whole thing. Rosé knew this was all new to him, and so he pretended not to see how red the tips of Denali’s ears were, secretly pleased at how he was reacting to everything so far.

When they had arrived at the restaurant, Rosé had opened the car door for Denali and led him to Carson’s, his hand curved around Denali’s hip. When they had entered, Denali took in the restaurant, noting the sleek and modern decor, a mix of leather and dark wood. A waiter approached them, asking if they had made a reservation. Once Rosé confirmed and given his name, they were sat in a corner booth. The waiter listed off the specials and recommendations of the evening before leaving them with menus to peruse. Now alone, Rosé scooted closer to Denali and opened up the main menu, his thigh and arm pressing against Denali’s. Denali flushed at the contact, but didn’t say anything, forcing himself to focus on Rosé as the older murmured his own recommendations to him.

This was not the first time they had gone out for dinner, but this was certainly the first time that Rosé was being affectionate. No, affectionate wasn’t exactly the right word. Rosé was normally touchy with him, since Denali himself was physically affectionate, but the weight and intention of his touches seemed different and far more deliberate. It didn’t make him uncomfortable, in fact it made him feel warm inside. It felt nice, like somehow he was being treated with a little more care, like he was something precious.

At first, he thought he had imagined it yesterday afternoon. He had noticed how Rosé had sat a just little bit closer to him than usual when they were having their Sunday movie marathon, arm thrown casually behind him on the couch while absentmindedly playing with the strands at the nape of Denali’s neck. He had brushed it off as Rosé just being Rosé, but their interactions today seemed to prove otherwise. When he’d said okay to being boyfriends, he hadn’t expected much to change, but it looked like he was wrong.

Denali peered to his side, examining Rosé. He was distracted by how his jaw seemed more defined than usual, a starker contrast against the warm light of the restaurant, the light stubble adding a certain charm.

“Denali?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Denali looked back at Rosé, eyes wide at being caught. “Yes?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Denali grinned sheepishly. “Nope, sorry.” Rosé rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s okay, I’ll order for us then. You still love your mushrooms right?” Nodding, Denali watched as Rosé waved the waiter over and proceeded to order for them.

Throughout the course of dinner, the two had almost settled back into their usual patterns. Once the food had arrived, Rosé had scooted back out of Denali’s space so they could eat comfortably. They had chatted about their day, with Denali sharing about the new skate routine that he was choreographing and Rosé shared about his new client. Later over their shared dessert, they laughed about Kandy’s latest attempt at asking Joey out, their knees touching under the table. When they were done and the bill was paid, Rosé led Denali back to the car, this time choosing to walk close to Denali, shoulders bumping as they walked in contentment. On the drive back, Denali chattered on while Rosé drove, a soft smile on his face as he nodded along to Denali’s stories.

Walking him back to his apartment, they stopped as Denali fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He turned around to face Rosé, suddenly not too sure about how the night was supposed to end. He played with the hem of his sweater and gnawed at his lip, eyes fixed to the ground.

“Dinner was nice.”

Rosé nodded in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Denali shuffled, unsure of what to do next. Should he invite Rosé in for coffee? Or would that give him the wrong idea? What was he supposed to do now? Was the date over? Should they arrange to meet again now?

Chuckling as he noticed how Denali seemed to be internally panicking, Rosé raised his hand and lifted Denali’s chin, meeting his eyes. Carefully stroking Denali’s cheek, Rosé dropped a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling away.

“Good night, Denali.”

With one last stroke to his cheek, Rosé turned to leave, leaving behind a breathless Denali at the door.

————————————————————————

I just want to say that I absolutely did not plan for this to turn into such a cotton candy bag of fluff.

Also, I think that oblivious Denali and sneaky Rosé might be my new favourite thing.

[yanderesleuth]

Yandere Simulator - A Sleuth's Blunt and Honest Review

Hello everyone! The sleuth is back and she is ready to give you her blunt and honest review of Yandere Simulator. I’ve been wanting to do this for SO long but I simply did not have a computer strong enough to do a fair and accurate review. Recently, I was able to get a decent laptop and the demo installed fairly quickly – perhaps 8 to 10 minutes.

To those who may be new to this blog, I started following the development in 2015/2016(?) when I first saw a gameplay by Markiplier, and I am one of many that has watched Yandere Simulator transform from bare-bones to this STUNNING atmosphere with tons of different gameplay options. I am so proud of how far this game has come, and I appreciate YandereDev and his volunteers for busting their asses every day and sticking with the development. I will be going through what is likely common knowledge, but I’m rather late to the game and I apologize.

The main menu is unique! I’m not the most knowledgeable gamer out there, but I have never seen one quite like this before. Pressing start creates a rather fast zoom towards Ayano, who is holding a love letter behind her back. After you defeat your rival, you can see a visual of the specific method you used in the background. (ie. Osana’s bloody body hanging out of the fan; I don’t want to provide a screen shot of this, so just pretend.) Last I heard, not every elimination had a specific visual yet, but I’m not sure if this is still true or not. The menu is very easy to read, and you are currently allowed three different game files. You are unable to use the easter eggs/debug cheats until you have eliminated your rival once, which is a nice touch.

The introduction cutscene is quite compelling and it grabs your attention easily. I noticed that the large flash of various images are now in a photograph format and gradually piles up in the middle of the screen (if that makes sense); I feel that the previous format, image after image, was a bit more thrilling. Though, I appreciate the current look, as it hints that you will be taking pictures in the game, at one point or another.

One question I have: It’s canon that Ryoba kidnapped Ayano’s father and tied him to a chair in her basement (as told by the basement tape.) Yet in the cutscene, it shows them under the cherry tree, holding hands. Is this simply a daydream of Ayano’s? Is she truly aware of how her parents got together?

The game runs VERY smooth overall; it is a little choppy in spots, but the performance is much better from what I remember. Out of force of habit, I adjusted my settings anyway; I’m personally not a fan of the outlines on each character. I’m not sure why; it’s just a preference for me. For the sake of this review, I chose an elimination method that I have never tried before: Expel. I believe that choosing a method that I’m well-rehearsed in would not make this a very fair review, and it would not represent the challenges in the game.

The current small town holds a variety of shops – hardware, games, lingerie, and even a small restaurant to earn money. (I’ve played it in the past and it’s pretty fun.) It has a lovely ambience to it, with perky music in the background and several familiar faces roaming the street. Despite being unable to adjust my settings or access my phone in general, the town still runs great on my new laptop. You are automatically given $10 at the beginning of the game, and I chose to buy the stealthy black underwear, to limit students’ range of sight.

I’m thrilled to learn that there are more ways to receive points for Info-Chan’s services. The bug mechanic is genius and is a lot more convenient for players. With this feature, you can receive fifty points per day. And for any other extra points you may need, you can ‘sneak’ panty shots.

The first (minor) complaint I have is the controls for taking photos. When you have a laptop with no actual buttons, and no mouse, it’s impossible to do so. I had to take my mouse from my Yamcha PC in order to take the lewd pictures on Osana’s phone, and for the vandalism of the vending machine. Aside from this, the expel method is very interesting, and I admit that I was a bit scared stealing the answer sheet. I had gotten caught once because I placed the radio too close to the door, but I was able to go back and successfully steal the sheet.

The second, not-so-small complaint I have is regarding the ring theft from Sakyu Basu. I had the WORST time stealing it! I learned rather quickly that for whatever reason, I could not distract Sakyu. I could not interact with her at all. She just sat there, eating lunch. I tried bang snaps, simply sneaking up on her to grab the ring, and even joining the drama club for a mask with the intention of just grabbing it and running. Each time, I would get the ‘don’t touch that’ dialogue and never got a chance to take it again. Out of frustration, I tried stealing it while INKYU was distracted and it worked!

The third and the biggest complaint is SNAP mode; I have been anticipating this for years. First, I will say that this feature is absolutely terrifying, and the concept is everything I imagined and more. Ayano finally loses her sanity, to the point of no return and you are free to eliminate anyone and everyone in your path, within a time limit. The objective of snap mode is to obtain a knife and kill Senpai, since he has discovered your true nature and he will never love you.

Unfortunately, SNAP mode hardly worked for me and I eventually had to close out of the game. I got the game over on the roof top at lunch time, and I got the command to find the knife. I would venture through the school to try to do so, and would press the space bar to transport a little further, but I would get static and teleport to the same exact spot I was at on the roof! I learned that eliminating students in my path would buy me time to search further into the school, but eventually, I ran out of students and I was stuck on the roof.

But… I have faith that the ring bug and the snap mode bug will be fixed.

After Osana’s expulsion, I admit that I am rather intrigued by this method and may actually use it in the final product. Senpai’s sanity will be playing a major part in the game, and it will be very interesting to see when it is fully implemented.

The first of three ending cutscenes introduced Amai Odayaka. She is absolutely precious and I cannot wait to learn more about her when her week arrives! I almost had her eliminated during the Amai challenge, but I messed up and had to end the game for the night.

The newest adjustment to the students’ models are just beautiful. Have a look at Kokona Haruka!

Overall, this game is rich in lore and plot twists, and plenty to speculate on. There is SO MUCH to do in Yandere Simulator! I feel that this game has a lot of potential and I look forwards to its release, whenever that may be. Unfortunately, the pandemic has slowed a lot of things down, including the upcoming crowdfunding campaign. This is a fantastic demo to check out if you have not already. I’m planning on going back in and finishing the Amai challenge, experimenting with mission mode and pose mode.

Sound off: Which is your favorite elimination method so far?

-Sleuth

Download Yandere Simulator's Demo Here

[umbry-fic]

A Palette Full of You (2)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021

Chapter Title: Save the Children!

Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...

(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)

Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

12-years-old

"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.

Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.

And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?

Oops.

"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.

As if.

The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.

It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.

Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.

There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.

Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.

But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.

And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.

"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"

"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."

"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."

“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.

“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”

"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.

"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."

"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.

Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.

"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.

Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.

Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.

"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”

Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.

When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.

Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.

“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."

"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!

The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.

But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.

"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"

"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.

“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”

Ohhh.

They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.

“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.

"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."

They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.

Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.

The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.

It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.

Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?

Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.

She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.

All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.

But surely, someday, she would understand.

She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!

She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.

Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?

~~~

19-years-old

"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.

Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.

Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.

"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.

“Alright.”

Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.

Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.

Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.

"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.

If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...

The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"

Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.

"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."

"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"

"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.

"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”

The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.

Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.

He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.

This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.

They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.

"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.

Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.

The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?

~~~

Next chapter

[scarletenvy]

eastbound, homebound. — chapter 3

this is for the nony who the other day asked me to post any previously unpublished parts of the airline au i might have. here’s 5k of unfinished, unbeta’d and not edited ch3. includes smut.

Chapter 3: concrete jungle.

*

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Violet squeaks, startled and surprised, and tries to get up, but Pearl just lets out a guttural grunt and tightens her grip on the junction of Violet’s hip and thigh under her skirt, thus effectively trapping Violet where she’s straddling Pearl’s lap. Violet produces a disagreeing noise that turns into a shameless moan as soon as Pearl sinks her teeth into her flesh just above her collarbone, and involuntarily grinds her hips down.

“Come on, guys, again? Really? In my fucking cockpit, too?” Kameron whines.

Violet’s lids flutter open and she looks up. Kameron is standing in the doorway, shielding her eyes with her palm theatrically. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s body, settling against the backrest of her pilot’s seat, but her index and middle fingers curl under the waistband of Violet’s panties.

“Oh knock it off, Michaels, you can’t possibly expect us to believe you haven’t done this with your purser wife even once,” Pearl says while her other hand slides up Violet’s back under her unbuttoned blouse and sneakily unhooks her bra.

“Pearl!” Violet protests half-heartedly and slaps Pearl’s arm. Pearl just smirks and pushes her hand under the undergarment to cup Violet’s breast.

“I’ll be happy to inform you that my wife and I can actually keep our hands off each other for longer than five minutes, because we’re not a pair of libido-driven bitches, thank you very much,” Kameron says sternly.

Pearl hums in a noncommittal manner and leans back in to drag her lips against Violet’s collarbone. Violet’s lids fall closed again and a pleased purr forms somewhere deep in her chest and escapes her.

“I should really fuck you in first class next, doll,” Pearl states. “You’d look so fucking good, getting yourself and the seat all wet and messy while I finger your pretty little pussy. Would you like that, babe?”

“Oh, God, I can’t hear you, I can’t, I’m not listening!” Kameron shrieks before Violet can react.

Violet blinks, trying to bring her surroundings back into focus, the rampant arousal that pools in her gut making it difficult. Kameron is squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with her palms, looking equal parts flustered and amused.

“Pearl,” Violet repeats hoarsely.

“Mmm,” Pearl says, slipping her hand to squeeze Violet’s ass under Violet’s skirt while her other one is still playing with her breast. “Okay, go on, then, doll, the sooner I land this thing the sooner I’ll get to actually fuck you.”

She manoeuvres her hands to rest on Violet’s waist and swiftly pushes her to her feet, proceeding to straighten her tie and crack her neck like she wasn’t just walked in on by her captain. Violet reaches to wipe her lipstick off Pearls mouth, and then secures the hooks of her bra behind her back and buttons her blouse up.

“C’mere, princess,” Pearl beckons her closer as soon as Violet’s done straightening her uniform.

Violet bends over, planting her hands on the armrests of the seat Pearl’s occupying, and Pearl presses a gentle kiss on her mouth, her plum lips so soft and good against Violet’s own. Before it can escalate, Pearl slaps Violet’s ass lightly and repeats her command to go on. Violet pecks Pearl once more and grabs her blazer from Kameron’s seat where she shedded it not too long ago before circling Pearl and heading out of the cockpit.

Kameron is still standing in the doorway, her arms crossed on her chest. She’s shaking her head slightly, her expression scolding, and it would almost make Violet bashful if it weren’t for the way Kameron’s so obviously fighting off an entertained grin.

“Nice bra, Chachki,” she shoots as she moves aside to let Violet through, and that’s when Violet is assured she’s not nearly as irritated as she tries to act.

“Why, thank you, captain,” Violet says, making sure it comes out pointed and clear, audible.

Behind her, she can hear Pearl snap around in her seat and let out an actual growl, low and dangerous, and she runs off quickly, feeling oddly pleased with herself for provoking a reaction.

There’s always a small part of her, shy and quiet, that keeps nagging that she should be ashamed of such vulgar, flamboyant behaviour she’s engaging in. Lately Violet’s grown very talented at ignoring it, progressively more so around Pearl, but today it’s louder, more persistent somehow. Maybe it’s because of where they are right now. Violet doesn’t let that thought linger, doesn’t let any of it linger, just works harder to not think of it at all.

She arrived in Atlanta early in the afternoon yesterday to overnight there before their flight to Johannesburg. She hadn’t told anyone she’s back, hadn’t left her hotel room, either. It was unlikely she would run into someone familiar in the busy streets, but she didn’t particularly feel like risking it. It’s been a while since she’s been back, and it was a peculiar feeling, being here as a visitor, a passer-by on her way to another, faraway destination.

Now they’re at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International, getting ready for their flight. The airport is, at core, the same it was eleven, thirteen, fifteen years ago, but at the same time it’s not. The difference is, she’s never seen it like this before. She’s never seen the staff security checks and airline meeting rooms and unnoticeable doors that only open with a swipe of one’s I-D. badge. It’s both unnerving and comforting, the way a place can change so much, but not because it hasn’t, essentially, remained the same; rather, because she has not.

It seems no one’s really missed her in the main cabin. Farrah is standing in the middle of one of the two aisles, her palms placed on the backrests of the seats either side of her, and one of her knees is bent, her foot lifted coquettishly and the heel of her shoe brushing against her ass. Michelle is standing in one of the rows, her back to Violet, and she’s snapping photos of Farrah as she poses. Her expression is simultaneously oozing both seduction and saint-like innocence in the way only one Farrah Moan is capable of perfectly mastering.

“NorthWest should really use you in their next advertisement campaign, Farrah,” Violet chuckles.

Farrah strikes another pose, standing back on both feet and popping her hip, her hand moved to rest there now.

“I’m Farrah. Fly me to Milwaukee,” she breathes out, her tone eery and empty like she’s a bimbo from some 60’s movie.

“Amazing,” Violet laughs. “Do they even have an airport there?”

“Does it matter? It’s Milwaukee,” Farrah shrugs and reaches for her phone Michelle’s handing her.

“You ever been to Atlanta before, Violet?” Michelle asks.

“This is the first time this is my base,” Violet replies vaguely.

“So you’ve never been to Johannesburg before?” Farrah says wistfully. “Me neither. Gonna be fun!”

Violet hums her acknowledgement, then looks around the cabin. “Where’s Brianna?”

“We’re missing two life vests, she’s sorting that. We should be able to start the boarding soon,” Michelle says.

“I’m sure someone stole those vests during the previous flight,” Farrah chimes in expertly.

“Why would anyone steal a life vest?” Violet questions.

“Girl, people tend to steal the most random unnecessary shit, you’d be surprised,” Farrah says like it’s obvious.

“She would know,” Michelle notes.

Farrah whines, that drawn, high-pitched sound that has become her signature in Violet’s mind by now. Michelle doesn’t seem too bothered by this reaction, just laughs and suggests they get back to work.

They monitor the cabin together swiftly, making sure everything is taken care of before Brianna returns with the missing vests. Violet is unsettled, craves to get going already, but luckily Farrah is rushing them in her palpable excitement, so Violet clings to that excuse as she moves through the familiar steps with more urgency than is usual to her.

They’re one-third into the 15-hour flight when Brianna asks Violet to check if the cockpit needs anything for her while she deals with something in first class. Violet uses the intercom in the back galley, holding the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she leans against the counter, her legs crossed at the ankles, and examines the fresh coat of nail varnish she applied that morning while she waits for Kameron and Pearl to accept the call.

“Liaison,” she hears Pearl’s absentminded drag after two rings, her voice thick with amusement as if Kameron and her were just laughing at something when Violet phoned.

“Captain,” she purrs seductively. “Main cabin here, Violet speaking.”

“Blatant erasure,” Kameron chimes in before Pearl can reply.

“Shh, Michaels, you’re ruining the fantasy,” Pearl snorts.

The playfulness in Pearl’s tone makes Violet smile involuntarily, and she glances down at the tips of her black pumps and bites her lower lip like she’s trying to hide her reaction despite being alone, convince herself her heart doesn’t beat faster and her cheeks don’t get a little bit warmer whenever she hears Pearl sounding happy or imagines her grinning.

“So, what’s up, main cabin?” Pearl prompts.

Violet straightens her posture, crossing one arm over her chest and grabbing the receiver, and quietly clears her throat, seductively narrowing her eyes and dropping her pitch before she speaks. “Just calling to see if the cockpit needs anything, captain. Maybe I could get you something to eat?”

“That depends,” Pearl drawls cheekily, clearly playing along with Violet’s flirting, her voice husk. “What’s on the menu?”

“Why don’t I come and personally show you?” Violet chirps immediately.

“Jesus, Chachki, you’re on fucking speaker, come on,” Kameron groans.

Pearl laughs roughly, and Violet lets out a pouty sound, not really caught off guard by the interruption — it’s a wonder Kameron let it fly as long as she did, actually — but still a little dismayed. It’s been six days since their last flight together, six days since Pearl rushed her into a toilet stall at Seattle-Tacoma and took her against the wall, hot and desperate and messy, six days of radio silence and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Violet is itching for contact now, restless to get her hands on Pearl, hardly satisfied by their quick make out session from earlier.

“Goddamnit, Michaels, you’re such a bitch,” Pearl complains through laughter. “Why can’t you ever let me have any fun?”

“Because your idea of fun is having phone sex at work while you’re flying a craft and I’m sitting a foot away, you absolute genius,” Kameron shoots back.

“It’s better than your idea to play I spy with my little eyes for three hours straight, Michaels. There’s only fucking sky and clouds to spot!” Pearl says and Violet giggles, knowing full well the line was punctuated by a huge eye roll.

She moves her arm from her chest and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, then fits her hand between herself and the counter and slips one of her heels out of the shoe, absently dangling it on her toes in the air. Pearl is in a good mood today, had been already when she had come out of the conference room to meet Violet in the hallway before their briefing and, despite Violet’s protests, taken her suitcase from her and carried it herself. It’s not exceptional, Pearl is in a good mood more often than not, but it’s a contrast to how she had been in Seattle last week, curt and rough and on edge, almost as if inflammable if approached wrong. It had been a three-hour layover, a flight that wasn’t even scheduled for Violet but that Aja had magically made happen anyway, and they had spent the majority of it with their hands and mouths on each other. After Pearl had made Violet come, Violet had backed her up against the opposite wall and gently rubbed her through her panties, the damp cotton catching on her swollen clit so perfectly, a light teasing touch insistently right where Pearl needed it until it had slowly gotten too much and she had let go and released.

Violet hadn’t asked if something was wrong, and Pearl hadn’t said anything, either, had just hidden her face in the crook of Violet’s shoulder and held her close while she came down, and then abruptly pushed past her out of the stall and the restroom without another word, and Violet hadn’t seen her again until the briefing.

“Seriously, though, is there anything you two need?” she interrupts Kameron and Pearl’s friendly bickering, her tone more professional now.

“No, babe, not really, I don’t think. At least I’m good, how about you, Michaels?” Pearl replies.

“Nah, I’m good, too. Maybe like a bathroom break in a half hour? But send someone else, I don’t want this plane crashing while I’m peeing because Liaison got distracted getting her fingers wet.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so fucking funny, Michaels, fuck all the way off,” Pearl snorts. “But what a glorious way to go, huh?”

“I’ll send Brianna or Michelle up there in like twenty,” Violet promises, stepping back into her heel and pushing herself off the counter.

“Thanks, Chachki,” Kameron calls. “Tell my wife I miss her and I love her and I can’t wait to get back to her.”

“Ew, you two are gross,” Pearl says before Violet manages to get her reply in.

“You just tried to have public phone sex and I’m the one getting called gross?” Kameron gasps in mock offence.

“You wish, Michaels, I know you’d like to hear how pretty she moans,” Pearl deadpans.

“Oh, trust me, I have heard her moan. Our room has been next to yours more often than I’d care to remember.”

“Okay,”Violet cuts in before Pearl can continue. “Nice talking to you, cap, main cabin will check in again later, have a good one. For the love of God, stop torturing her, Pearl.”

“Okay, baby, if you say so,” Pearl agrees solemnly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The line clicks in indication that the call is over, and Violet stays staring at the mute receiver for a while, the word Soon heavy on her tongue but never having had the chance to leave her lips.

*

They arrive in the early morning, and despite it having had been a fairly easy flight, Violet is physically drained and a little disoriented. It’s immediately clear Pearl likes Johannesburg, and while she puts her chin on Violet’s shoulder and keeps pointing out places and landmarks, painted in the soft glow of the quickly rising sun, through the tinted car window on their cab ride from the airport to the hotel, Violet thinks she could see herself falling in love.

Their accommodation is located in the northern part of the city, and Pearl tells her the neighbourhood, as well as those surrounding it, is considered one of the most prestigious in Johannesburg. The establishment is scattered across an undulating hill, a bunch of separate villas rather than one big building with rooms, and Michelle says it’s lovely, one of her favourite overnight locations she’s ever been to. Farrah snatches a little booklet from the front desk upon their arrival and check-in, and buries her nose in it, reading away and informing Violet that the name of the business — Zandfontein — comes from one of the early farms in the area.

Inside, their villa turns out to be a cosy, open space with a number of bedrooms and a shared kitchen and lounge. Everyone just kind of silently agrees that Pearl and Violet will take one of the two doubles, with the Michaels’ occupying the other, without any discussion or explicit acknowledgement of it. Violet thinks she should feel flustered about the way they’re treated by everyone as an extension of each other, a package deal, almost, should resist the implications, but there’s a craving crawling under her skin and she can’t think far past it, needs Pearl close and can’t deny herself.

“How do you feel about thunderstorms?” Pearl asks her when they’re settling in and the air between them is mostly filled with weary contentment and slowness of thought and motion, no energy to jump each other until they’ve slept the flight and jet lag off.

She’s changing into something comfortable to nap in, her uniform shedded and carelessly draped in a messy heap over the first somewhat suitable surface, the back of a chair today. She always does that, and then curses on the day of departure, stressing over how wrinkled the fabric is and resulting in Violet trying to straighten her up to the best of her ability. Violet is only slightly better than Pearl at this. Her uniform usually ends up strewn across the floor of whatever hotel room they’re entering as soon as they’re through the door, but at least she picks it up later on and makes an attempt at actually hanging it.

“Um,” Violet says, a little taken aback by the randomness of the question. “I feel fine? Or, like, I’m not, like, afraid of them or anything. It’s kinda nice when it’s thundering outside and you can just curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea and a book, yeah, you know, the cliché. I don’t know, why?”

She glances at Pearl over her shoulder, a hanger with her blouse and blazer temporarily looped over her wrist. Pearl is pulling on a white tank top, her bra already off, and Violet succeeds to catch a glimpse of the perfectly round underside of her breasts right before Pearl tugs on the hem and covers the rest of her upper body. Violet lets out a pouty noise and blindly tries to hook the hanger on the closet door handle, eyes concentrated on the visibly darker spots on the material of Pearl’s top where her nipples are stiffened and poking against it.

“Just figured I’d ask for, you know, later,” Pearl shrugs, running her hands through her hair to get it out of her face and then readjusting the waistband of the loose black cotton shorts she often sleeps in. “Baby, my eyes are up here,” she adds with a low chuckle after noticing Violet’s spaced out staring.

“I know, but I’m talking to your tits,! Violet muses, finally managing to place the hanger where she wants it and reaching for her skirt to hang it. “Whats happening later?”

“The thunder?” Pearl says like it’s clear while she moves to pull the comforter aside on the bed and adjust the pillows and covers like they’ve grown accustomed to having them. “It’s gonna be raining and thundering in like five hours or so.”

“Oh, come on now,” Violet snorts and brushes her off, finally turning to fold the skirt over the little bar on the hanger and grab the oversized t-shirt she packed as her pyjama. “There’s not a single cloud in the sky and it’s getting progressively warmer by minute. Thank God you’re a pilot and not a meteorologist ,”

“Babe…” Pearl says softly, and there’s a pause in the rustling of the sheets.

“Hm?” Violet hums and spins to face the rest of the room, pulling her locks out of the collar of her shirt where they got stuck upon her putting it on,

Pearl now has one knee perched on the bed, stretched out to place the pillow she’s gripping wherever it is she sees appropriate and frozen mid-movement, gaze turned up to scan Violet. Violet fixes her a quizzical look and spreads her arms in the air with a little shrug, almost challenging Pearl to disagree with her observations and deduction, and suddenly Pearl’s expression lights up, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a lopsided, extremely pleased smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” Violet demands.

“Nothing, babe,” Pearl says and shakes her head, going back to her pillow arranging. “It is an awfully clear day, isn’t it? Almost like calm before the storm, huh?”

“You’re such a cryptic fucking bitch, Pearl,” Violet complains, slipping her hands under her shirt to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. “The fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Pearl laughs uproariously and throws a pillow at Violet. It hits her in the thigh and lands at her feet, and Violet sighs in exasperation as she bends over to lift it. When she straightens up, Pearl is already sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed out in disarray like a human-sized starfish. Violet crosses the room and shoves the pillow in Pearl’s face as soon as she’s close enough to aim.

“Bitch,” Pearl mumbles into the soft material, giggles spilling out of her in sporadic gales.

“Idiot,” Violet shoots back,

“Yeah, but you like that,” Pearl retorts, still making no attempt to free her face.

“Do I really, though?” Violet mutters absently and flops onto her back on the bed next to Pearl.

“Uh-huh,” Pearl says assuredly, like there’s no care in the world, no doubt whatsoever, and maybe there isn’t, maybe she’s right, maybe she knows something Violet has no clue of, and Violet allows it soothe her until there’s something heavy in her belly and throat.

They lie there for a while, both completely quiet, and Violet enjoys the weight of the body next to her, just the way it makes the mattress dip different than it does when she sleeps alone, the warmth of it, the familiar scent, cherry blossom of Pearl’s perfume twining with the smell of cigarettes, lacing lacing lacing until it’s so unmistakably her Violet thinks there’s no replicating it,, not even coming close to. She verges on searching for Pearl’s hand, but then changes her mind and interlocks her own fingers beneath her chest, wonders how and when the silence between them got more comfortable than mindless chatter with most people is.

“What’s the meaning behind your thigh tattoo?” she asks finally, when the atmosphere gets too light, too easy, close to compressing in how natural it feels.

“Huh?” Pearl finally raises the pillow off her face and drops it somewhere in general direction of the head of the bed. “Oh, this one?”

She throws her legs up and props her ass off the mattress, trying to keep her lower body up with her abs and failing spectacularly, almost tipping over and nearly ending up with her feet over her head and eventually just falling back down on the sheets with a frustrated huff. Violet resists the urge to laugh for approximately a split second and then cracks up, drawing her hand up to facepalm. Pearl mumbles something under her breath and elbows Violet in the ribs lightly, pretending to be dismayed by her temporary loss of cool, even though she’s never been hiding her dorky side around Violet and they both know it.

“Each flower represents a woman in my life,” Pearl says when Violet succeeds to stop cackling and outstretches her arm to brush her knuckles against the ink. “There’s one for my mom, then my sisters, and my grandma, oh, yeah, and this smaller one is for my nephew.”

“that’s so sweet,” Violet smiles. Pearl must be close with her family, she seems the type, seems like somebody who keeps in touch a lot and insists on spending at least one set of holidays a year together, makes it work despite everyone having their own busy lives. Violet doesn’t ask, though, wants to avoid the series of corresponding questions touching the subject will surely breed painfully harder than she wants to learn these things about Pearl, feels claustrophobic more than she does intrigued. “You designed it yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yah, doll, all of my ink,” Pearl confirms. “Nap time?”

With that, she pushes herself up on the bed to lie down on the pillows, Violet follows her, pressing close to her side and twisting her gently until Pearl’s back is to her chest and she can loop her arm around her middle and bury her face in her hair. Pearl sighs happily, her hand immediately covering Violet’s where it’s resting on her tummy, and relaxes, and Violet falls asleep to the deepening pattern of her breathing.

*

Sure enough, Violet wakes up to the sounds of thundering and raindrops against the window some hours later.

It takes her a moment to register she’s in Pearl’s arms now, despite them having had been in the reversed position when she dozed off, but it doesn’t particularly alarm her — she’s used to Pearl’s tendency to flip them around in her sleep, as if she can’t possibly get enough of holding Violet and will utilise any chance she gets. Next, Violet registers Pearl’s open mouth dragging against the skin of her neck and her fingers aimlessly stroking her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, the light trailing of her blunt nails sending chills up Violet’s spine.

“Pearl…” she croaks, her voice cracking a little.

“Shh, baby,”Pearl breathes out.

Violet gasps almost soundlessly, shifting a bit, and Pearl presses a kiss right where her whisper is still burning Violet’s skin. Her palm flattening on Violet’s middle, she starts unhurriedly sliding it higher, pulling Violet’s shirt up with it. She reaches Violet’s tits, gropes the flesh forcefully, but before Violet can push her chest out into the contact, Pearl drops her hand lower, hooking her fingers under the rolled up hem of the shirt. She tugs it over Violet’s breasts, and Violet barely bites down a filthy moan as the cool air on her bare body gives her goosebumps.

“Pearl,”she repeats, a pleading tilt to her tone.

Pearl’s mouth moves to Violet’s ear, and she closes her teeth around the lobe lightly, then laps her tongue over the spot, and Violet’s toes curl, the action causing her to lose a bit of her breath. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Pearl presses two of her fingers right between Violet’s exposed breasts and starts slowly tracing them down her chest and abdomen, her leisurely pace nearly torturous and making Violet’s gut twist and her whole body tense and shiver in anticipation and excitement. She’s still hazy from sleep, soft and a little powerless, ardent and almost shapeable under Pearl’s touch, needing her to set the tempo and do whatever she pleases, and Pearl seems to be in the matching mood, wanting to take control and have Violet her way, dominant in such a tender, disarming fashion. She reaches Violet’s panties, twiddles with the waistband, slipping her index finger under it and swiping across the skin there, and Violet involuntarily bucks her hips into the impact, a whimper escaping her as Pearl retaliates and puts her palm on Violet’s pelvis instead, swiftly drawing her back closer.

“Baby…” she mutters, scolding, teasing, perhaps a tiny bit breathless.

“Please,” Violet utters instantly, not caring about how desperate the thickness of her voice sounds.

Pearl’s lips are back on Violet’s skin immediately, kisses being peppered in a neat string from behind her ear all the way to the crook of her neck. She simultaneously forces her foot between Violet’s ankles, and gradually pries Violet’s legs open with her own, fitting her full thigh high enough to be lightly brushing against Violet’s pussy. She starts sucking a mark on top of Violet’s shoulder, and moves her hand and places it on the back of Violet’s own, fingers feathering over the knuckles before interlacing with hers.

As Pearl begins to drag their joined hands lower, Violet squeezes her eyes shut and exhales in shattering pants, wanting to squirm, to rock her hips to try and get some friction against Pearl’s thigh, but also immobilised, unable to recall how to use her muscles, her lust rendering her boneless and completely pliant. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s skin, leaving the spot hot and throbbing in her wake, and lifts her face to nose Violet’s curls, her deep and heavy breath tickling the nape of Violet’s neck. She guides their hands all the way down and stops right above Violet’s panties again, her fingers still securely clasped over Violet’s, and Violet senses how prominently her muscles tense under her palm as Pearl stalls deliberately.

There’s a moment of stillness, the only sounds disturbing the almost perfect silence — the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional thundering that feels like it rolls over the area in huge waves, as well as their noticeably laboured breathing. Violet’s wound up, thinks she might snap any second now, loves how charged all of this is, utterly enjoys the way Pearl is torturing her and the ache in her core from too much tension without any relief.

After the longest while, Pearl nuzzles her faze closer and presses her lips behind Violet’s ear, and that’s what finally sends Violet right over the edge.

“Daddy,” she whines, so fucking needy and desperate that there’s no mistaking it.

Pearl must lose some of her composure with that, because she curses lowly and screws her knee, thus working Violet’s legs farther apart. With determination, she pushes their hands into Violet’s panties, and Violet produces a surprised Oh, her eyes flying open, not having had realised Pearl was planning something like this, but promptly relaxing her wrist to allow Pearl full control of the situation and her body, relishing in the way surrendering to Pearl turns her on so much.

Without delay, Pearl presses their fingers between Violet’s lips, and Violet hisses as she senses her own wet heat, nearly burning against her skin. She’s slightly mortified by the ease with which Pearl reduces her to this state, by the fact Pearl can feel it just as well, by the way the humiliation only stirs her on.

“God, Vi, dripping already,” Pearl rasps, her fingers twitching like she can’t contain it. “Slutty little thing.”

Violet whimpers and squirms, too overwhelmed and consumed by all the sensations, all the softness and intensity of their position to produce anything intelligible, limbs too heavy to try and speed the things up, to do anything except give up and let go. Pearl aligns their fingers so that hers are lying primly along Violet’s, and. with another kiss pressed to the side of Violet’s neck, thrusts her wrist to rub the digits against Violet’s aching clit.

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

Oh now that, that one isn't Actually a wip. It's a short story I finished ages ago that later ended up being inspiration for one of the plotlines in an anthology style audio drama podcast I want to make some day. There's 4 main characters:

The Mckellen sisters Jamie and Lady who aren't Actually sisters but pass rather well for twins since one of them is actually a changeling, Natalie Anderson, photographer and lady's GF, and Gavin Walker, a mage still haunted by the death of his fiance, Caleb Adams, mostly due to the fact that his fucking ghost won't leave him alone.

Art by @unded-bun (click image for higher quality)

I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I'd be happy to fill in the gaps if anyone asks.

I'll Also throw the story itself under a read more here, bc I'm still super proud of it even though it's a few years old now.

A small hotel on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia. There is a Sonic Drive-in across the busy street. Bright neon lights in the window state, “Open 24/7!” A Greyhound bus is idling in the parking lot. A man, Gavin Walker, climbs off and crosses over to the hotel. He walks easily, but not confidently. Approaching the hotel’s entrance, he spots a cat eating from a plastic bowl in front of the door. The feline is small, and feral. He is black, with white paws. He does not pay Gavin any mind as he enters, only continuing to crunch on dry cat food.

There's a desk on the left side of the lobby. The receptionist smiles kindly as he checks in. Her eyes are tired. Gavin gives her a knowing nod, and travels deeper into the building. There is a sign marked, “Out Of Order.” on the elevator. This is a good thing. Gavin takes the stairs, of which there are three flights. This is also a good thing, because three is a good number. He enters the hallway, which is old, and worn. The walls bear chipped yellow paint, and the floor, faded red carpet. Gavin continues down the hall after checking the time on his phone. It is exactly 11:59PM. He turns the device off and begins to count the seconds. At sixty he has stopped in front of the elevator. The fluorescent light above him flickers. The elevator does not have an out of order sign on it. It is the same elevator as before. Gavin enters.

He presses the button for the first floor. In the lobby the check in desk is now on the opposite side of the room. The lights are off, the receptionist is gone. It is daytime outside now. The bus is gone and the Sonic is closed. The road is vacant. There is a cat outside. She is white, with black paws. She looks up at Gavin as he approaches. They lock eyes, and he kneels in front of her.

“Hello, cat.” He says.

“Hello, Mage.” Says the cat.

She flicks her tail, “What is it you seek?”

“Direction.”

She nods and stands, before making for the road. The Sonic across the street is closed, but it was never empty. A Sonic is not a sit down restaurant. Customers are expected to pull into a parking spot and order over an intercom, and then a waitress delivers their meal directly to their car. Gavin’s pretty sure places like Sonic were more common in the 1950’s, and he knows that drive in diners are a dying breed now a days. The thought gives him a strange sense of nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced, and he shudders involuntarily.

The cat sits down in the parking spot furthest from the building. She watches as he presses the the button on the intercom, listens, ears swiveling, as they are greeted with static. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see something moving within the darkened restaurant. An outline of a figure, only vaguely humanoid. The thing moves like a deranged ape, long, long arms dangling to the floor and dragging it forward. Its back is hunched, legs short and stumpy. Gavin can not see its face, and he does not wish to. The intercom crackles to life.

“WhAt can aH’ do fER ya’lL?” Drawls The Thing in the Sonic. It’s got a southern accent thicker than congeling visera, and the pitch of it’s voice fluctuates wildly. Gavin glances uncertainly at the cat, and she nods.

“I’m looking for Direction.”

“Ahhhhhh……” groans The Thing, “WEll, watch’ Yer goNna wanna dO is hEad doWn the road, bout maybeEEee…..foUr, five miLeS, an’ yer gOnna wanna look fer’ weEl, watch yer gonna wanna fiNd is soMeTHing’ idEaliZed, ya knOw? Like uh, somethin’ kinDa romanticized, an’ a liTtlE faKe in sOme senSe but reAlLy true in anOther, ya follow?”

“Yeah.” said Gavin, even though he did not follow at all.

“Yep,” Continued The Thing, “n’ yer gOnna wanna gEt yourself sOme rasPberRy lemONade when ya get theRe, It’s some gOod shit, lemme tell ya.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”

“Good, GoOd, That’s Good. Y'all have a niIiiccceee daaaaaay nooooow.” And then the intercom crackled once more, and returned to spewing static. Gavin released the button and looked around for the cat, hoping, maybe, for some more guidance, but she had long since abandoned him. He started walking down the road, away from the Sonic Drive-In, and The Thing inside, and hopefully towards where he needed to be.

Gavin started to think as he walked, which was not something he liked to do often. He much prefered to act in the moment without much consideration for the consequences of those actions until they themselves became the moment. Gavin did not like to think because he often thought much too deeply, and it sometimes scared him. Gavin thought about a lot of different things in quick succession, he thought about the missing greyhound bus, and The Thing in the Sonic, and wondered if the disappearance of one had to do anything with the appearance of the other. It probably did. He thought about what The Thing had told him to do, and why he was doing it. He thought about why he’d come here in the first place, to this inverted little section of Georgia. And he thought about Liminal Spaces, about busted elevators and darkened hotel hallways and empty stairwells. The air shifted suddenly as a pickup truck speed past him, it had a faded confederate flag on the back window.

Liminal Spaces, simply put, were the areas between one place and another. The small spots in the middle of point A and point B where reality seems to be altered in such a way that the change is almost imperceptible, and yet, it is still enough to leave you feeling so impossibly strange.

Liminal Spaces can also be doorways, if one knows how to properly open them.

Gavin isn’t sure how long he’s been walking down this empty stretch of road, but it’s been long enough that he can no longer see the Sonic Drive-in behind him. It’s not even a dot in the distance now, just gone, as though it were never there to begin with. He keeps going. He walks until his feet hurt, and his legs ache, and keeps going even after that. At some point he sticks his thumb out towards the road, tired enough to risk hitch-hiking, but no cars have gone by since the pickup truck. And at some point he takes a moment to rest. He sits down on the shoulder, and just breathes for a while. And then when he stands again, he sees the Cracker Barrel just down the road. Exhausted as he is, he knows it isn’t possible for him to not have seen it earlier. Gavin decides it’s best not to dwell on that, though, because this is exactly the kind of place where Cracker Barrels can just pop into existence. (Although, as he enters the restaurant, he remains somewhat annoyed that it couldn’t have decided to do it a little sooner.)

The front of the Cracker Barrel is a store selling all manner of things. There's a back corner full of vintage candy, a small section of organic make-ups, and another full of knick-knacks like salt and pepper shakers, and dreamcatchers, as well as the usual crap that tourists like to buy, T-shirts and mugs and what not. Gavin has never actually been in a “regular” Cracker Barrel, so he’s not sure if this is a completely normal thing, but he’s certain that a “regular” Cracker Barrel would not also be selling such wares as bottled crocodile tears and Unicorn meat slim jims. There aren’t a lot of people in the store, and yet Gavin finds it impossible to get a good look at any of them. The people look normal, but they move like extras in the background of a film. The only person in the room with any notable features is the waitress standing by the back. She’s short, and her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a vibrant blue. As Gavin follows her into the seating area he can't help but stare at her hair, and he finds himself thinking that it can’t possibly be dye, it’s too bright, somehow. She smiles at him as he sits, and her teeth are a just little too sharp.

Once he’s seated, she says, “Can I start you off with a drink?” Her voice has a pleasant, lilting tone to it.

Gavin thinks back to The Thing in the Sonic, “A Raspberry Lemonade? If that’s something you have here?”

She nods, and goes off to get him one. Gavin leans back in his chair and takes in his surroundings, trying to relax. The decor in the Cracker Barrel has a sort of vintage, rustic feel to it, there’s things like black and white photos, and old advertisements on the walls. All the furniture looks antique. There are quite a few other customers present. Most of them look like the same nondescript folk from the front, but a few stand out. There’s a woman in the back corner, she’s dressed in black furs and her head is an ember eyed wolf skull. She’s sitting across from a man with the skull of a stag upon his shoulders, the antlers adorned with ivy. There’s something resembling a giant moth sitting two tables away, slowly crunching its way through a Caesar salad. Occasionally, there’s a figure leaning against the kitchen doors, they look as though they’re made up of television static. Gavin’s eyes start to hurt from trying to look at them, so he turns his attention to the menu instead. The waitress returns with his Raspberry Lemonade, and he orders the Country Fried Shrimp.

Gavin takes a sip of his drink and finds that he agrees with the Thing in the sonic. It’s definitely some good shit.

“Funny seeing you around here, Gav.”

Gavin looks up from his drink, almost spills it in surprise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin manages to shake his head.

Caleb Adams pulls out the chair across from him and sits. Gavin stares at him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, “NORMAL HOROSCOPES: Making your day a little more magic whether you like it or not.” Gavin’s not sure if it’s supposed to be advertising for a psychic’s shop or if it’s some strange indie band he’s never heard of. Knowing Caleb, it’s probably the latter.

He finally manages to speak, “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” Caleb leans an elbow on the table, and props his head up in his hand, his smile never wavers, “And?”

“And- and I don’t know, Fuck, I don’t know.”

The waitress briefly interrupts his existential crisis by depositing his Country Fried Shrimp on the table. Gavin looks down at it and tries to focus on the smell of greasy seafood instead of the dead man sitting across from him.

“You seem confused.” Caleb’s voice sounds uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Gavin nods.

He sighs, frowning “Eat your lunch, and then we’ll talk.”

Gavin eats what he can, but it’s a large portion, and he’s somehow not that hungry. He takes a final bite, and pushes the plate across the table, silently offering Caleb the rest of the shrimp.

The barest hint of a smile returns to his face, “Thanks, but no.” And then he’s frowning again, “Why’re you here, Gav?”

“I just went where I was told to-”

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t mean the friggin’ Cracker Barrel, I mean Here.”

And Gavin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That he’s here because he felt lost and desperate? That he didn’t know what to do anymore? That it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s fine, everything's fine and he’s just tired?

But he doesn’t tell Caleb any of that, he just says, “I miss you.” And he can’t keep his voice from cracking.

“I know you do.” Caleb places a hand over his, “But this is damn near one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done. You knew this place wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He feels numb, “I didn’t really care.”

“Gavin,” Caleb grips his hand now, “Look at me, please. I mean, really look at me.”

So he does, he looks up at him, and finally, meets his eyes.

They have not changed. Death has not reduced the amount of compassion behind them, nor faded the sea blue color. Gavin stares. Eyes are supposed to be a window into someone's soul, a way to truly see into them, and Gavin just stares because Caleb’s eyes are still capable of conveying so much, and he can feel tears running down his face…..

“It’s time to go home, Gav, okay?” He gestures to the window, and the Greyhound bus has pulled up, “Your ride's here.”

And Gavin knows has to force himself to look away and loosen his grip, and he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s alright.” He says, “It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of the bill, Please just let go.”

And Gavin finally, Finally manages to tear himself away.

He does not feel anything but relief as he leaves, as he boards the bus and settles into a seat. He leans back, and watches through the window as the world shifts and shimmers and is suddenly dark and starry once more. As the Greyhound pulls out of the Sonic parking lot, Gavin closes his eyes, and slowly falls into the comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

After The Dawn

Hello, hello! I am indeed still around, and sometimes even do non-work-related stuff. About, oh, 2 years ago, this got sent in as a prompt, so have a little 4 times + 1 thing, for the occasion of me processing my recent DS9 comfort-rewatch (by which I of course mean “mostly spending a lot of time gazing adoringly at Kira Nerys and crying”). As far as I recall, I’ve never actually posted anything from my giant decade plus WIP pile of Trek stuff, so this is a first - I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

The prompt was “five different sunlights”. So here are five snapshots of Kira Nerys from joining the resistance to DS9 and beyond, ~4400 words. Veers into Kira/Jadzia because I’m hilariously predictable. Also includes brief appearances by (in order): Lupaza, Furel, Shakaar, Damar, Garak, Kaksidy, and Jake. Mentions of several others.

Contains discussion of the occupation of Bajor and canon character deaths, but nothing explicit I can think of to warn about.

---

After The Dawn

1. 2356

The raid was long over but her fingers still shook – cold, always because of the cold, never from fear. Every so often they would twitch more decisively, as if recalling the sensation of the phaser rifle she was just barely big enough to hold jerking to life in her grip. But then they’d travel to her right ear of their own accord, tracing the lines of her new earring. A proper d’ja pagh all of her own, with the symbol of the Kira family emblazoned in the metal – echoing the beautiful engraving she’d always admired on her father’s. 

Lupaza had worked through the night to make it for her, by the feeble light of one of their few still-working heaters, with skill that seemed otherworldly to Kira (who, though by far the youngest among them, knew better than to ask about anyone’s life before joining a resistance cell). Lupaza, who had looked at the scrawny thirteen-year-old hanging around their camp, and who’d chosen to believe in her, and speak up for her. Who’d presented her handiwork to ‘their newest member’ at sunrise, during the change of guard at the mouth of their current cavern hideout, letting the winter light glimmer on its silvery surface for all to see. And Kira had beamed at her, not caring about who’d been around to witness it or how young it may have made her look. 

I’m in the Resistance, she wanted to shout over and over again until the reality truly set in, flooded and near-overwhelmed by the newfound sense of belonging and pride and brightly burning defiance mixing in her chest.

Again and again her fingers went – over the cuff hugging the shell of her ear snugly, down the single deceptively delicate chain, to the simple but beautiful main piece. She could almost believe it was still warm to the touch, heated by the orange-glow burn of Bajor’s atmosphere on Cardassian hull metal – made from stolen Bajoran ore, mined with stolen Bajoran labour. It was only right and just that it be returned this way. The rest of the beritium hull salvage they’d stripped from the ship would be used for lining the walls of their hideout, shielding them from sensor sweeps and the bite of the winter cold alike. But this small bit of it was a shield all Kira’s own.

It was a comforting presence, a slight but grounding weight with a depth of meaning that its size belied. Lupaza smiled at her fascination and distraction every time she happened to pass by, promising she’d get used to it. Furel agreed, for once without a trace of a joke in his voice, and slapped a hand on her bony shoulder with a gruff: “You’ve more than earned it, kid.” 

Shakaar himself, in between whatever it was his leaderly duties entailed, took a moment to consider her. “It suits you,” was all he said on the matter, though if he meant the earring or the phaser Kira had for the first time stuck in her own belt instead of giving it back after cleaning was anyone’s guess. Then, turning to leave, he added, “Good job out there.”

There was something like sadness behind all of their eyes. Kira chose not to see it, or dwell on it.

She was in the Resistance.

She didn't even know if any of her (many) shots during the ambush had found their mark, but it didn't seem to matter. She could, she would help protect her father and his little garden, scrounged up, cobbled together, but growing. Protect her remaining brother, for the one she had failed to. She would honour her mother, the bravest woman I've ever known, Nerys. She saved us all, at great cost to herself.

Whenever her fingers floated back down and twitched for want of a rifle trigger again, she told herself to be patient. There would be more work for her, more chances to be useful, more chances to prove herself. No more sitting idly by, and no more fear.

-

2. 2369

Even after weeks on the station Kira had yet to manage to sleep through an entire night, but she sincerely doubted it was the bed's fault. Sure, the Cardassian-designed beds in the Cardassian-designed quarters on the Cardassian-designed station left much to be desired, but they certainly beat the ground of a half-frozen cave. And yet here she was, with endless damn bunking arrangements as one of the most frequently brought-up complaints among the crew body. Why and how those PADDs always seemed to end up on her desk was anyone's guess. She'd been prepared for a more administrative role, yes, but…

“The time is oh-six-hundred hours,” the computer helpfully informed her.

Kira huffed, and tossed aside another PADD with a blinking Request denied, then shrugged on her uniform jacket and made to leave her quarters for a quick breakfast.

It was still an odd thought that took getting used to: her quarters – hers alone; a viewport in the bulkhead, allowing her to see the stars and, when the rotation was right, Bajor’s own familiar sun from a very new perspective. Regular meals thanks to Federation engineers patching up Cardassian replicators and whipping them into shape. Shops and eateries opening on the Promenade. The ruinous mess the Cardassians left behind them slowly coming together again into something functional. Kira permitted herself a wry twist of the mouth at the thought – hopefully the planet the station had formerly orbited could manage to do the same.

The discovery of the wormhole brought fascinating, colourful crowds to the station so quickly and in such volumes, she didn't envy Odo at all. Even the small segment of the Promenade she saw on her way from her quarters to the replimat was enough to reinforce, every morning, that this was no longer Terok Nor: grey in every way imaginable, filled with throngs of terrified, beaten-down Bajoran workers and their Cardassian overseers, delighting in the former’s disposability.

The small but lively, chattering crowd in the replimat seemed to underscore all of her thoughts – no more waiting in line for gruel with the exhausted shift that had just left ore processing.

“Good morning!”

Instead, a friendly Federation face. The pattern of spots that ran down the sides of Lieutenant Dax’s face and down her neck was fascinating to Kira still – not Bajoran, and certainly not the grey, flared bony Cardassian necks that had made up most of Kira's world up until not so very long ago. She had to stop herself from staring often, even though, judging by that smirk, the Lieutenant did not seem to mind. She appeared to relish attention in general, of all kinds. Kira ducked her head, and tried to focus on the replicator instead.

“Something wrong? Quark interfering with the menus again?” Dax was right behind her, peeking over her shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiling. Somehow she always seemed to be doing that.

“Oh, no, nothing like that, thankfully. Still not quite used to this, is all.” She shuffled her feet and made no real move to complete an order.

“Hm. Well, if I may, Major, I’d recommend the raktajino for early morning starts like this.”

“Raktajino?” Kira repeated oafishly, biting back the Early!? her mind had immediately supplied.

“Klingon coffee. Try it – I think you’ll like it.”

Kira was sceptical, but Dax seemed to be very sincere – so after a few button presses she found herself holding a large mug of something hot, dark, and quite thick. She wrinkled her nose and took a sip.

“It’s, uh… strong.”

“Hits the spot, right?”

The crooked, almost sly smile on the Lieutenant’s face was contagious. Kira didn’t even feel like bringing up growing up under an occupation-enforced famine as an excuse for her own lack of a developed or sophisticated palate or culinary taste in general.

The drink did have a real kick to it, and Kira took another sip. “Yeah, it does.”

“Just don’t go overboard with them – let me tell you, I made some grave mistakes there right after I became a host. Curzon,” Dax smirked, shaking her head, then waved at the table they’d found themselves next to. “Mind if I join you?”

Kira thought about it, but only for a moment.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

And ah, there it was then, as soon as they sat down: the small, incessant, bitter sting of you knew what they were doing to us and you sat by and did nothing that insisted on making itself known at very inopportune times. It was, however, becoming more bearable by the day and with every individual met, every new reassurance that they were here now, despite everything, to make a good start. Together.

When the Cardassians came they were helpful and charming too, nagged the little voice at the back of her mind. But this couldn’t be like that, and just looking at Dax was enough to… well, perhaps Kira was being a naive fool, but there seemed to be ground to build here, and she found herself willing to try. And after all, she knew she herself was ready to do anything, to lay her life down for Bajor. She just needed to be pointed the right way – or, rather, she needed to be able to point herself the right way. Now that knowing who the enemy was and who the enemy could turn out to be had gotten more complicated. Still, if nothing else: she wouldn’t let it be a repeat of anything, and she was prepared to be a thorn in anyone’s side, Federation or provisional government or otherwise, for as long as was necessary. 

“You seem to be mulling over something grim already. Everything alright?”

The concern was genuine enough, but Kira had no idea how to even begin to explain all of it, even if she’d wanted to.

“Just thinking about some complaints about quarters I need to handle,” she lied smoothly – or what she hoped was smooth, anyway.

Dax caught on, and backed off. Lifetimes of experience to thank – or perhaps Kira was just that easy to read. A transcript of Trakor’s annotated ninth prophecy just waiting on a lectern, as Lupaza would say. 

“Sure. Let me know if I can help.”

“With station admin? Aren’t you a science officer?”

“Absolutely. But it's in all our best interests to get this place running as smoothly as possible as fast as possible, right?”

Kira narrowed her eyes at her, entirely unconvinced. “Right.”

“Fine,” Dax threw her hands up in the air in a very silly, exaggerated gesture, “I admit it, I’m after juicy gossip. There’s bound to be quarter reassignment requests in there! What could be juicier?”

Kira couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then. “You are ridiculous.”

Dax grinned right back. “Glad to be of help. Let’s get to Ops, you can tell me all about it on the way.”

When Kira got to her feet, both she herself and the entire day – if it could truly be called that on a space station – felt somehow lighter already.

-

3. 2372

It was swelteringly hot under the sun of some new, as of yet unnamed planet, in the midst of a survey mission that had already gone on longer than scheduled. Hardly Kira’s idea of a good – or productive – time. 

The place was an unpleasant dustbowl broken up by stray glass-encrusted rock here and there, and Kira was surrounded by a bunch of bustling, tricorder-armed Starfleet explorer types she would have sneered at, not so long ago – but many of whom she’d now consider fast friends. She’d hardly consider herself an ideal choice for helming this particular mission, but Sisko had been insistent, and so here she was. It would appear that, if nothing else, it gave her time to indulge in reverie – a truly rare occurrence.

The unfamiliar stars of the Gamma Quadrant, unimaginably far from everything she’d ever known, could now be reached within seconds, thanks to the wormhole – more proof of how the Prophets kept looking out for Bajor in sometimes quite unexpected ways. And Kira, as Bajor’s official representative on the mission, was determined to do her best to facilitate and build upon their efforts.

“Take a look at this, Major!” It was Dax calling her over, her tricorder beeping over some bizarre green-magenta form of plant life she found beneath a rocky outcrop a little off the not-so-alien dirt path Kira was stomping down. 

“What've you got for me, Lieutenant?”

“Some kind of elaborate root system stretches on for more than a kilometer underground, running beneath the very acidic soil, with an impressive – and perfectly symmetrical – array of large tubers.”

Kira shot the sensor readings a look. “Huh, could’ve fed a whole resistance cell for an entire winter on nothing but a few of those.”

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth – Jadzia Dax, decorated Starfleet science officer and dedicated, studious initiate who’d earned the approval of the strict Trill Symbiosis Commission, certainly hadn’t had such prosaic, practical implications of her findings in mind. For a very, very brief moment, Kira felt a sting of embarrassment – but then her mind snapped decisively back into its standard guarded, resolute position: she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Dax, as had somehow become a somewhat frustrating habit of hers, seemed to be able to encompass Kira’s entire internal dialogue with a glance. But somehow she did it… gently, without making Kira feel small or inadequate in any way. No smug Starfleet superiority here, even with all the accumulated bragging rights of all the lifetimes under her belt. And – perhaps most importantly – no trace of pity to be found. Instead, a wellspring of enthusiasm.

“Their composition is interesting, I agree. Starchy, and rich in several key proteins – this has potential for significant contributions to agriculture. I bet Keiko will love to get her hands on this – see what she can set up in one of the hydroponics bays.”

Her smile was as bright as the orange-tinted light of the unfamiliar sun, but Kira took up the challenge of matching it.

Jadzia leaned in, almost conspiratorially, “Help me catalogue it?”

“I, uh, don’t really know what the procedure–”

“No worries, I’ll walk you right through it. It’s fun!” Kira’s scepticism must have been written all over her face. “I swear it is! I’m not just saying that, you’ll see.”

“Not to mention,” Jadzia winked, “it’ll get us under some nice shade and right next to a cooling unit.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you love it.”

Kira couldn’t disagree.

-

4. 2375

The weak, grey light of Cardassia Prime’s sun filtered through the slits in the cellar windows – if they could even be called that.

Another very literally bleak dawn. No contact with the Federation. No hope of reinforcements, or extraction, or help of any kind. Negligible chances of news from Deep Space 9, of the fleet, of Odo’s health, of anything at all. And here, far behind enemy lines, Kira and her unlikely comrades presumed dead, their network of allies and carefully-hidden carefully-built-up resources destroyed, all three (three) survivors hidden away in the capital of a people she’d once have termed her worst enemies, relying on the goodwill of an old woman.

Kira, a veteran of hopeless causes, had been in worse spots – but not many.

Whatever Damar’s less… pleasant compatriots had thought, she found no joy in any of it. Not even a flutter of satisfaction at all the irony the situation was positively dripping with. It was enough that it meant that twice now she’d been witness to oppression and destruction on an immense scale – civilisation-ending, one might term it. It was wearing, and wearying, no matter who it happened to.

Would she have cheered for the destruction of Cardassia as little as a handful of years ago? Perhaps, if it would have meant Bajor being left alone. The moral quandary aspect certainly wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking about at the moment.

While the others seemed to still be asleep, Kira lay on her back on one of the thin blankets Mila had provided them, and thumbed almost idly through a list of signals intercepted nearby, identifying potential sabotage targets. There were still things three people with extremely limited resources could do to make themselves useful - or disruptive, depending on your perspective. 

Two Jem’Hadar barracks complexes (a hatchery would be better, and far less dangerous). A comms central (they might not have the proper tools available to make it truly worth the risk). Long-term storage warehouses (they needed to maximise short-term effects on the Dominion occupiers, not minimise the chances of Cardassia’s eventual recovery). Weapons manufacturing plants (tempting security gaps during shift changes, but still far too well-guarded for the three of them to take on alone). A power distribution junction (...remote, potentially high-impact, and definitely worth looking into). Kira made a note to ask Garak for any further details he could muster about it.

She should have, perhaps, been saving her strength, getting what rest she could while she could. Restless, that was what she was, even with all her experience and her awareness that so, so much of a resistance fight was simply spent waiting, biding time. With another brief glance around the murky room, she gave up even the pretense of repose, and got up to stretch her legs and pace out her nerves.

Garak was asleep in his corner, or at least pretending to be. Whatever suited his purposes best.

“Commander,” came a low murmur from the other side of the room: Damar, sitting up on his own improvised bed, very much awake. The Starfleet rank still sounded strange to her, but Kira could appreciate the way Damar made sure to respect it from the start, and never allowed himself a slip. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. If you have a moment.”

“Somehow I have both far too much and far too little time these days. What is it?” She asked quietly, stepping closer, though the chances of Garak actually sleeping through whatever their conversation was going to be were negligibly low – as were the chances of him ‘waking up’ before they were done.

“I know it might not make much difference. And I do not ask for your forgiveness, or understanding. But I wanted – no, needed to tell you this. I'm sorry – for what I did to Ziyal.”

Her mood miraculously sank even lower. “For murdering her, you mean,” Kira didn’t even try to hold back the bite, nor had she ever been one for softening any blows.

Damar’s lips twisted. “You are right to call it what it was. Hiding from the truth won’t accomplish anything anymore. I killed her, and I deeply regret it.”

Kira said nothing, and Damar continued. “I’m not asking you for anything, believe me. But I hope… she can become a herald, of sorts. Her presence can live on in our alliance, a spirit of cooperation, and a new dawn for both our peoples.”

It was hardly the first time Damar made her think there could be a future for Cardassia after everything, one of reinvention and coexistence. Even Kira, with her underdeveloped imagination (Jadzia's efforts notwithstanding – ah, there was the stab of that hastily half-handled grief), could let herself imagine it.

Kira nodded, and pursed her mouth. Forgiveness wasn’t something she felt was hers to give, even if she wanted to. Maybe it wasn’t anyone’s.

“Nice speech, Damar,” she said, flatly. Ground out, almost. “It’ll be good for you, to’ve had the practice.” Then, after a moment of consideration of what she was prepared to give: “I hope I'll get to hear you make more of those someday soon. And I hope Cardassia will get to hear them, too.”

It only took another tragically small circle paced before the weight in the room became unbearable. Kira decided to make for their somewhat improvised refresher and what little privacy could be scrounged up – and caught Garak watching her, lying motionless but as alert as ever.

She silently met his eyes, then turned away.

-

5. 2376

The first day of her long-awaited leave dawned beautiful and clear. It seemed a small thing, to be sure – but perhaps the Prophets, prompted by their Emissary, had had a hand in making it so. No matter the reason, the sun shone on a Bajor that was growing prosperous and whole in ways Kira had feared it wouldn’t ever be again. 

The document that had just brought peace to two quadrants of the galaxy was called the Treaty of Bajor. There was talk, increasingly common and growing louder, of reactivating Bajor's suspended Federation membership application, and Kira had been made aware of the validity of her Starfleet field commission and the implications on her future career. The Vedek Assembly would be announcing their choice of the new Kai within the week. The soil beneath her feet was healthy, fertile, fully reclamated and ready for planting. There were now schoolchildren on Bajor who had never lived under the occupation. 

And there was Kira, who had helped liberate it, and hadn’t lived on it since.

This was the first time she’d returned to her home planet after the formal end of hostilities with the Dominion, and all that that had entailed. The light of B’hava’el was strong but not harsh – the same sun Kira had spent most of her life under, but that had never hit her more differently than it felt now. B’hava’el, that she had now seen from so much closer and so much further away – had, in a horrifying, memorable incident, helped prevent the destruction of, even. Her! Not just scrappy little Nerys from the Shakaar resistance cell anymore, small enough to slip through narrow passages in the labyrinthine caves of the Dahkur province and gaps in the Cardassian sensor nets alike.

She was Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of Deep Space 9, and, as a dear lost friend had made sure she was aware a while ago, a public figure in her own right. Ah– her own importance was something she would need to confront some other time, perhaps, right after she somehow went head to head with her grief. Ezri had been dropping some suggestions, in her capacity as a counselor, for all of the senior staff and beyond. It would be foolish not to consider her recommendations, both as the commanding officer and as a friend.  

Kira was well aware she had lost so much and so many. And she could sit down and catalogue the losses on a PADD, like freighter cargo inventory, but what for? She had gained, too, and lost again, and gained yet more. Like waves and eddies, pulling along a lightship on its way through the stars.

“Prophets help me if I try being a poet, too,” Kira mumbled to herself. Maybe she would take up writing tortured metaphors about the Prophets watching over and guiding ancient Bajoran star sailors on their journey all the way to Cardassia, for better or worse. 

A stray breeze toyed with the chain of her earring, carrying the scent of ripening moba fruit, and as she crested the hill, the outline of a house well under construction came into view.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Kasidy asked from just behind her, Jake right at her side, holding her arm.

“Just thinking aloud. Nothing important. Anyway… where did you want to start?”

Her two companions caught up to her quickly enough. The gasps of surprised joy at the sight of all the progress that had been made on the house were by themselves more than worth the trip planetside.

“Well,” Kasidy began, “we have all the plumbing specifications and details all worked out thanks to the local architect you recommended – thanks again, by the way. I think… the kitchen should be first.”

It was an obvious tribute. A longing and anticipation there, too. Kira's heart ached just a bit stronger then, for a beat or two. She nodded, scrolling down a PADD loaded with floor plans and interior concepts. “I know some people who can help with that, too. Ceramics and pottery artisans, and a few others. I’ve got some favours to call in.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kasidy started, but didn’t get too far.

“Yes I do, Kas. We’re going to see this through, and we’re going to see it done properly.”

“Only the best for the Emissary?” Jake asked, pointedly. There wasn’t bitterness there, though Kira would have understood it, and perhaps expected it, from a young man longing for the return of his father. 

“For a dear friend and his family,” Kira corrected. “But – yes, I’m sure they’ll be happy and honoured to contribute. Now, Julian and Ezri will be down with the next transport, just in time to meet us for dinner in the village. We have a few hours to handle things here, check on the progress so far, make notes – any complaints or requests you might have. Remember, I’m here to make sure they listen to you.”

They started down the path into the almost startlingly green valley, Kira catching herself marvelling along the way at the visibility of all the growth and healing made possible by the hard, dedicated work of so many. Who knew what could be in store for an old civilisation of artists, architects, and philosophers, forced to reinvent itself, and the sometimes tenuous connections to vast stretches of heritage that Kira herself had grasped at in various ways for most of her life, born into struggle and desperate, determined rebellion, like so many others. 

Well. Nothing to stop her from trying her hand at poetry, after all.

She felt her lips twist wryly at the private joke – she knew her place and her strengths. And she thought she could say she knew herself, too – precious knowledge, by any accounting. She knew there'd be no rest for her, not really, as long as there was something to be done for Bajor, and for her station, and for her unlikely family, wherever they might end up, scattered among and beyond the stars.

But Kira allowed herself a moment, gazing up in what she imagined might be the direction of the wormhole’s entrance.

[kalee60]

Tap That

Author: Kalee60

Square Filled: C3 - Free Star - Middle Square

Ship/Main Pairing: Bucky/Steve

Rating: G

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: None

Summary: When Steve is distracted while waiting at a busy crosswalk on the way to an important meeting, he inadvertently meets the man of his dreams - but only after making the most mortifying social gaffe of his life.

Red faced and apologetic he tries to forget the incident.

But sometimes when things go wrong - they suddenly turn out spectacularly right.

Word Count: 2,129

Read on ao3 here

For: @buckybarnesbingo

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve was late, he hated being late.

Tucking his portfolio snug up under his armpit, he strode down the busy sidewalk, dodging people left right and centre, using the fancy footwork he’d learned from years of walking the streets of New York.

The coffee shop he was meeting his potential new client at was only a few blocks away, but it may as well have been on the other side of the ocean with the crowd and traffic lights he had to adhere to. Steve wondered errently if he should just jaywalk and dash across in between cars. He squashed the thought, he enjoyed not having to pay fines, and also he enjoyed being alive and not suffering death by delivery truck. It was close to peak hour after all.

Steve was hopeful that the meeting would go well. His design business was growing in leaps and bounds, but he needed just a little more exposure and steady clients on his books before he felt that he’d truly succeeded. And then once he felt like his career had reached a point it was self sufficient, he might take Nat’s advice and start to date again.

It had been a very dry few years, with only a couple of random hookups to keep his desires in check. But if he were honest he was reaching an age that, yes, sex was amazing, but he was kind of looking for it more regularily and with the same person. But finding that special someone with his hours and workload, was near to impossible, plus dating apps and set-ups with friends only went so far.

He wanted a connection, something tangible and electric.

Steve wasn’t asking for much at all. Just the impossible.

The crosslights ahead turned red and he scowled, hitching the portfolio up again, and felt a small tug on his knit jumper. He’d not even realised he’d caught a thread with the sharp corner of the folder, and as he tried to salvage the knit with one hand, he reached forward to press the button to hurry the crosswalk up, with the other.

Steve tapped it a couple of times, but didn’t feel the usual depress, or the sound, but he was too annoyed that the small amount of wool had come untethered, knowing he’d have to get out the needle and thread that night to fix it, to really notice the difference. 

He tapped the button again.

“I think you should buy me dinner first, before you go any further," a sardonic, yet deeply amused voice said.

Steve looked up to see the most beautiful man in existence standing before him, looking over his shoulder back at Steve, his blue/grey eyes sparkling with laughter and it took too long to realise he was speaking to him. To Steve.

“Excuse me?” He asked, and when the dark haired man with a smattering of stubble he suddenly had a desire to press his face against, gestured lower, towards their hips, it took him a long moment, embarrassingly so, to realise he’d not been pushing the button for the crosswalk.

He’d been tapping this man’s very tight and firm, and if he were honest, gorgeous ass.

“Oh shit, crap, um I mean, shoot, Jesus stop swearing. I am so sorry.” Steve managed to mangle out into the open and he must look like the biggest idiot to roam the world.

The chuckle the man let out was sinful, deep and Steve wanted to curl up in it, make him do it again and again, try to elicit a full body laugh.

“Don’t be, and please keep going, I want to see if I hear a ‘dang it’, or a ‘golly gee’.”

Steve’s face was flaming, he could feel the redness, the heat, and knew the slack jawed expression on his face, wouldn’t have been the most attractive.

“Please believe me when I say, I don’t make a habit of… accosting men at crosswalks.”

The man turned back towards the light which had just changed to walk, and Steve swore he heard him say, “pity.”

They ended up walking next to each other, both of their strides long and Steve kept throwing glances at the brunette. His jacket collar was pulled up against the cold, framing his gorgeous cheek structure, and he seemed to be about Steve’s age, plus he couldn’t see a ring on his finger. And Steve was officially creeping on a man whose ass he’d tapped at the lights (and didn’t that phrase bring up delicious images).

But, it seemed like the man was throwing just as many looks Steves’ way. And the appreciating glance at his snug knit made him glad he’d chucked it on. Nat had said it was a good fit, and paired with his dark wash jeans and loafers, he was casual yet smart and was glad now of his choice. Especially if he kept getting small side-glances from a man he wanted to gobble up.

Just as he was psyching himself up to talk to him again, Steve’s phone rang and as he fumbled to get it out of his back pocket, and answer it. The man had continued on, glancing once over his shoulder with a wide grin. And Steve was going to regret for the rest of his life that he didn’t chase after him, but it was his potential client on the phone.

After a quick three minute chat where they said they were running an hour late, Steve decided that he’d just go to the cafe and get some caffeine into his system, grab a bite to eat and work on the proposal. Or get lost in the memory of the perfect man.

He walked into the shop, the scent of grounds hitting him and he inhaled deeply. Steve loved the smell of coffee. Ordering the biggest they had on the menu, Steve waited for it, then traversed the earlish morning rush and found a free table, situating himself at it and taking a long sip, savouring it.

“Well, if I knew you were under-caffeinated, I could have excused your lack of unique swear words.”

Steve choked on his next sip, and praying milk didn’t just come out of his nose, he looked at the table next to him. The perfect man sat there, a smug look on his face, a coffee before him and an open text book, now laying face down as he beamed at Steve.

Once more he felt too hot, but managed to grin back.

“Believe me, I have some good ones tucked up my sleeve.”

Blue eyes snapped to his biceps, encased in the wool and he couldn’t help the little thrill that went through him as the man clearly checked him out.

“Yes, you do,” was the drawled response, and Steve felt it all the way through to his dick.

Holy shit - they were flirting. Steve was actually flirting, in real life, with somebody he was very interested in.

“Are you, er, are you meeting someone? I mean here, today, now?” Steve had managed to go from some semblance of flirting to utterly looking like a dork in three seconds. It was a new record.

The man’s grin was blinding, “nope, I’m just here to get out of the office for a bit, do some light reading,” he grimaced at the technical book, which looked like it had something to do with engineering, “and you?”

“Oh, I’m meeting someone in about an hour or so.” As the man’s smile dimmed, Steve realised what that sounded like, “for work, it’s a work thing. Fuck… sorry, again. If you’d like, you can join me, at my table I mean.”

“Sure,” the man didn’t even blink, suddenly sitting in front of Steve, coffee before him, book now shut, eyes trained on Steve’s. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky.”

Oh, that was nice, a name, his dream man had a name.

The chuckle came again and James, no, Bucky was laughing at him, why? Fuck again.

“Sorry, I honestly am usually not this dense. I’m Steve.”

He held out his hand and Bucky took it, his palm warm and slightly calloused, the friction as their skin met, rough, in the way it would feel amazing running down his chest, lower and lower until -

“So Steve, when you’re not accosting men at traffic crossings, what do you do with your days?”

Almost an hour later, and two more coffees, Steve knew he’d never been so charmed before, or half in love with someone he’d just met. Bucky was everything he was looking for, funny, witty, smart and seemed to be eye-fucking Steve as much as he was in return. Giddy with excitement and anticipation he continued with his story about when his nose got broken in a fight with a kid seven years older than him in school, when he felt something against his leg.

Pausing, he saw Bucky’s grin widen and the movement against his leg intensified. Steve smiled and pressed himself closer, heart hammering in his chest.

Then Bucky leaned forward, motioning for Steve to as well. Tilting his body so they were only a breath apart, Bucky smirked then whispered, “Steve, would it be too forward of me to say that I really want to see you again, but with less people, more privacy and much less clothing, maybe get you to tap my ass again?”

Steve gulped, eyes shutting for a mere second in pure unadulterated want, Christ did he need that. Badly. Desperately.

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” He husked back and as Bucky smiled, eyes full of promise, Steve closed the gap.

Their lips met, still warm from their coffees, and Bucky tasted of all the good things in life, everything he’d been waiting for. Moving, he opened his mouth, still conscious of where they were, and deepened the kiss as much as he dared. Bucky was onboard, more than if the hand that came up and pulled at the back of Steve’s head was any indication, and paired with the small helpless gasp he felt on his tongue as he pressed it into Bucky’s mouth, he was going to enjoy their time together. Immensely.

The clearing of a throat shook them from their indiscretion, and Steve pulled back, noting the way Bucky’s lips were reddened and his desire to yank him back across the table and just take him was viceral. Bucky looked like he was ready to be thoroughly fucked. And Steve was definitely stepping up to the plate and would deliver on that front.

“Steve Rogers?”

His full name broke Steve out of his little bubble of fantasy,  the one where he was licking down Bucky’s spine, leaving nips and licks and bruises on his skin.

“Uh, yeah, Jeremy?” It was his client, with the worst timing ever.

Jeremy looked between Steve and Bucky a moment, but before Steve could say anything Bucky had neatly slipped from his seat, indicating for Jeremy to sit.

“Catch you around, Steve.” Bucky said with a smirk, slipping a small business card into his hand, then left the shop.

Steve looked down to read ‘James Barnes - Mechanical Engineering - Patent Attorney’ it was a mouthful, exactly what Steve hoped he would be. It also had a personal number scrawled on the back with ‘call me’ written in block letters.

“So Steve, I really like -”

“- hang on Jeremy, just excuse me for one second.”

Steve raced out the store, seeing Bucky looking down at his phone a few metres away waiting for the crosswalk. He strode over and without even thinking twice, tapped his ass a few times. Bucky jumped and turned around with a scowl on his face, until he saw Steve.

“Steve?”

Steve didn’t wait a second, just wrapped his arms around Bucky completely, squeezing him tightly against his body, holding him like there was no one else in the world except the two of them. Bucky melted into the embrace, his mouth opening into the kiss, tongues tangling until Steve was gasping for air. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Bucky’s for a second, inhaling deeply, looking into Bucky’s blue eyes.

“I’m going to call you,” he husked out, smiling like he never had before.

Bucky laughed, loudly and free, it was glorious. “Pal, I hope so, I’d hate to think you kiss all the men you accidently tap like that. Tonight?”

Steve beamed. 

“Tonight,” he promised, then gave Bucky one last chaste kiss, and waved goodbye.

Heading back to the coffee shop and his client, Steve felt a spring in his step that hadn’t been there for a long time, and put Bucky’s number in his phone immediately.

It was a good day. A very good day.

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 16

It was hard to take his eyes off the contraption attached to his wrist.

The Hi-Def was a tiny computer that was held to him with a comfortable canvas and leather wristband; the screen was two inches square, sleek and shiny, and edged with a polished steel casing.  The device had two small buttons on one side but, as Eli was demonstrating, the majority of the computer's functions were controlled either by touching the screen, poking at the hard light projection that came from the screen, or using voice commands.  So far the only button function he knew how to set whether the device operated exclusively with screen-touched commands, hard light commands, voice only, or any combination of any of them; that had been the first thing Eli had taught them, even before they'd finished the elevator ride down.

They were now all gathered within the facility, standing together around a computer console on what they considered the "ground" floor (which was the bottom-most floor the main access elevator could reach) and on the monitor was a larger image of the Hi-Def's screen.  Eli was frequently switching between projecting out of her own Hi-Def and using the computer monitor, depending on what she was instructing them to do - it was a lot easier for them to see on the larger monitor than it was in the projection without crowding one another. ((Continued below cut))

"So here," Eli said, gesturing with her free hand at the monitor, "is the communications panel.  You can set up a quick-response voice command to open it without needing to manually navigate here in the same area for all the other voice commands I showed you earlier.   It's fairly self explanatory on this landing page -- you can see the list of Hi-Defs in range here.  I've already programmed in the "names" of your Hi-Defs, using your names, to make it easier."

Asher looked down the list and could see his name along with Eli, Arlo, Sam, Remington, Adam, Mali, and Gale's name was there as well (though Gale wasn't presently in the room with them - his name was outlined in bright red).  There seemed to be loads more empty spaces left but he knew Eli had only made nine of these so far...she must have thought ahead and programmed with the intent of making more in the future.  Neat.

"I've set it so, by default, it'll always broadcast to all Hi-Defs within range.  If or when I ever add more to the network I'll start programming in some set group defaults but for now we don't need that."  Eli turned away from the screen briefly and rapidly navigated to the communication page on her own Hi-Def, then set it to project into the air in front of her.  "If you aren't wanting to talk to everyone all at once you can select a specific person or group from the default list, or create your own personalized groups of people -- and, like everything else, you can set up voice commands to get here quicker.  Anyway..."

He watched as she reached out and "tapped" (it was so weird to be tapping on light that was solid...) Arlo's and Sam's name, which highlighted them in a bright green.

"So I've got my recipients selected," Eli said, smiling a bit as they turned toward Sam and Arlo - her voice was coming out of their Hi-Defs now (it was a weird effect hearing her from multiple places at once).  "All you have to do then is just talk.  It's pretty decent at picking up your voice even if your hand is down at your side as well as filtering out background noise but there's still a chance other things might be heard through it so be mindful of that.   You can adjust your incoming and outgoing volumes here-" she indicated a double pair of up and down arrows, "-and there's an element of proximity when it comes to outgoing broadcasts." She raised her wrist to her mouth then.  "If you need to be very quiet, for example," she went on in a bare whisper, "just get it closer to your face if you can."

Asher couldn't hear the words coming from her lips but could hear her clear as day coming through on Arlo and Sam's Hi-Defs - a whisper that was coming through at a normal volume.

Eli then reached out to tap Arlo's and Sam's names again, returning them to the dull tan color they'd been before she'd selected them, then demonstrated sliding both incoming and outgoing volumes down to zero.  "If a Hi-Def is out of range the name will be in red and if you try to select it it'll give you its best estimate as to how far away you are from being in range.  This will be based on the last time you WERE in range, so it's not going to be completely accurate -- normally these would be tethered to a satellite and could give you measurements down to the inch but we're in short supply of those.  One thing to keep in mind for the future is even if we get all the signal towers up there may still be areas where you're considered out of range because the signal can't reach. Places like being in deep valleys or underground, or if you're somewhere there's a lot of metal or 'things' between you and the towers like trees, dirt, concrete... Again, wouldn't be much of a problem if we had satellite support too but we'll have to make do."

"Can these be accidentally turned on?" Asher asked.  He waggled his wrist slightly.   "I'm not going to start broadcasting my snoring if it turns on while I'm asleep?"

Eli shook her head.  "Accidentally?  No. It can detect heart and respiration rates so if you hit a certain threshold it'll assume you're asleep or unconscious and will disable all outgoing broadcasts and turn on a tracking indicator.  If I NEED to I can turn the outgoing back on from here-" she patted a hand on the computer console "-so we can get audio of your surroundings, assuming you're within range.  Incoming broadcasts won't be muted if you're asleep or unresponsive however."

"Neat. Can we set up alarms on this thing?"

"You mean to wake yourself up, or to alert others?"

"Both?"

Eli pointed to a spot on the projection that had a large exclamation point on it.  "That there will send out a distress signal by default if you double tap on it.  If you press and hold..."  She jabbed it with a finger and held it there; the button flashed from red to yellow, then expanded out into a new menu that was overlaying the communication page.  "It opens up this secondary menu where you can set up custom ones with your own messages and sounds.  If you're looking for an alarm clock that's in the clock and calendar functions."

"Wait, you said there's a tracking indicator?" Arlo interrupted.  "Even if we're asleep?"

She nodded.  "Yes. There's no way for these to tell the difference between sleep and unconsciousness so a tracking indicator will turn on no matter what."

"That's...a bit weird, isn't it?" Sam asked, looking between her Hi-Def and Eli.  

"Is it?" Eli asked.  "I know where you all live so I already know roughly where you sleep."

"...true," Sam replied.  "I guess it's not so weird when you put it that way.  Does it track you any other time?"

"Not automatically, and it's not something that just anyone would've or will have access to," Eli answered.  "I can, from either this computer or my Hi-Def, track any of you at any time.  Normally I'd have no reason to and there were really, really, REALLY strict rules on how and when you could use the tracking function and, if we were back in my time, you could be thrown in prison if you were found to have misused or abused access to it.  It's meant to be a safety feature - if someone goes missing or silent unexpectedly I can look to see where you are and if need be we can head out to do a rescue."

"So not everyone will have access to the tracking thing but will WE have access?" Asher asked, gesturing to everyone standing about.  "It's not much use if you're the only one who can and you're the one who goes missing."

"I'm giving you all permission to do so but only from here," Eli said, patting the top of the computer.  "It's another security thing - if someone takes you out and gets your Hi-Def we wouldn't want them figuring out how to track the rest of us - which is also why I want you all to definitely set up the voice lock command like I showed you.   That'll minimize the risk even further."

"Could Paulina do the tracking if asked?" Sam asked then.

Ha...Paulina.  Pauline's successor, in a way.  Technically Paulina was an altered copy of Pauline that didn't need a name (because it wasn't a living AI) but they'd all agreed to renaming the working console just so they could refer to it and have everyone know exactly what was being discussed. Paulina ran both the computer as well as all of their Hi-Defs - one big copy of Pauline and nine more tiny ones.

"Yes, and no," Eli finally replied.  "I'd have to program her to be able to do that.  As of right now no, that's not something I have her set up to do because of all the variables that would have to go in to it.  She SHOULD, in theory, be able to do it just fine since Pauline tracked people within the facility but there'd be a difference between the check point sensors and signal towers that -- well.  I'm not going to get into the technical aspect.  Let's just leave it at 'yes, possibly' for now."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam nodding, looking satisfied with that answer; he looked up again as Eli turned back to the computer.

"A couple other things here - this button will mute your outgoing, double tap it to quickly mute both incoming and outgoing, and then double tap it again to unmute them.  This one here opens the menu to set up your own communication groups.  Press, hold, drag and drop, then hit the title bar here and either verbally or manually name it.  When you do that it'll appear here..."

Asher watched as she backed out of the new menu and landed back on the main communication page, then she gestured at a smaller button that had what looked like a capital V on it; when she poked at it another menu opened and it had blank text fields on it that looked identical to the ones on the main page.

"This is where your created groups will be stored - like with individuals you can set up quick or verbal commands to broadcast to a group."  She let them all get a good look at it then closed it, and then quickly flipped all the way back to the main screen of the Hi-Def.  "That's all for now - don't want to overload you all with information.  Feel free to play around with it, there's nothing you can do to these that I can't reverse."

Remington tapped a few fingers against his screen.  "How sturdy are these things?  I'm worried I'll scratch or break it somehow."

Eli chuckled.  "You'll probably break the casing its in before you actually damage the screen.  I don't have access to the alloys the casings were originally made out of so they're not quite as indestructible as they used to be. -- but don't get me wrong, breaking them IS a possibility, just not a very high one.  You don't need to treat them like spun glass but also don't be using them as hammers or whatever - just wear them normally like you would any other article of clothing and you'll be fine." As she spoke she set the computer into a stand-by mode; the screen went black but not the dark black that indicated it was powered off entirely - that had been another concept to get used to...a "black" that still put out light.  

"So...how do we start mapping Portia?" Asher asked after a pause.  "This thing has some sort of scanning function, right?"

She nodded at him.  "It does but we're not going to worry about that right now.  We only have two signal towers up at the moment - the one here attached to the elevator platform that's interfacing with the working sensors in the facility and one that Selene attached to the schoolhouse's roof that currently is too far away to communicate with anything here but will still work if YOU all are within its range.   Until we get the other towers up and figure out how to power them you'll be relying only on your onboard storage and, when it comes to mapping, that's not going to count for much because the data that generates the maps -- ...ok, again, not going to get technical, but suffice it to say that it won't be possible until we get the entire thing up and running."

"Gotcha," he replied.  Honestly he was most looking forward to the mapping part...it'd give him an excuse to pick a direction and start walking during those times he wasn't on guard duty.

Asher had been born in Ethea and raised in Highwind; in a few ways Portia reminded him of Highwind - of home - so he assumed that was probably why he liked it here so much, and why he was itching to go poke around.  All the wide open spaces, the beach access and harbor, the neighboring desert...all of it was something he'd been hoping he'd get a chance to fully explore before he had to go back to the Pigs's headquarters in Lucien.  Now that he was carrying a Hi-Def it seemed like he had a really good reason to stick around even longer - once he'd helped get this spy problem under control he'd then be free to help map out Portia and the surrounding region, and then if these things got expanded across the continent...

Eh, well.  He shouldn't get ahead of himself.  The only reason he even had one was because Eli had the parts to build it; they could cover the continent in the needed signal towers but that wouldn't make more Hi-Defs appear out of thin air.  And if expansion was out of the question then he probably wouldn't get to take his Hi-Def out of Portia -- and even if he wanted to keep it and leave there'd be zero reason to since all the useful stuff he was excited over wouldn't work once out of range of the signal towers.

He tapped his screen to turn it off and looked around; the others were fiddling with their Hi-Defs and Eli was still sitting on a stool next to the main computer console - she didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone or anything in particular at the moment though she had one hand resting idly across her own Hi-Def's screen.

After a few breaths she looked up suddenly and met his eye - must have sensed he was looking at her, or something. "When do you think the rest of the towers will be up?" he asked.

She took a moment to consider, then shrugged.  "Hard telling.  Selene is having to make molds and cast some parts, then we'll have to test strength and durability.  We could technically make do in the short term but we can't guarantee we can dig up the right parts forever.  And I'd rather not have to dismantle a ton of things," she added after a moment, waving a hand around herself to indicate the facility.  "I'd like to...actually utilize this place.  Don't know what for just yet but..." She fell silent then offered up another shrug.  "We were always taught to use whatever we had at hand if things went south...I'm as far south as someone can get but it feels like tearing my own house down.  I want to keep this place standing - find a reason to bring life back to it."

"Maybe as a school?" Remington offered, without looking up from his Hi-Def.

"Nah.  We're moving Stewart to the clinic, remember?"

Now Remington did look up.  "I remembered, yeah, but medical stuff isn't the only thing folks could learn."

Asher looked between the two of them as they spoke and was able to watch the slow progression of Eli's expression from confusion to a guarded curiosity.

"What do you mean?" she went on finally.

"Well..." Remington started, drawing out the word as he closed all the menus he was perusing.  "You're teaching all of us some ranger things, and fitness and strength training.  And you know all about the Old World since you lived in it.  I bet people would flock from all over the continent to meet and learn from you."

Eli's expression went neutral.  "True.  But I'm not exactly a school teacher.  I'm a soldier, and I imagine your church would have more than a few things to say about my teaching anyone on a large scale."

"They don't hold any authority within Portia or the rest of the Free Cities," Arlo said into the brief pause that followed.  "They can hold all the opinions they want but they'd be inviting a lot of trouble if they tried directly interfering in a town's business or with their citizens."

Eli shrugged again.  "Even still, I'd rather not kick the proverbial hornet's nest.  Just because they don't have authority doesn't mean they can't or won't try something, whether that "something" is them riling up the populace against me or directly taking action to remove me from the picture - which is what would have happened in my time, and often did if someone was trying to incite something without regard to the laws."

Asher clenched his jaw at that last part; the Church Enforcers were a...particular lot.  They traveled around and destroyed relics they deemed dangerous (which usually meant ANY relic they could get their hands on) and had been known to get into conflicts with civilians on the regular.  The conflicts were violent at times but not usually fatal on either side; he couldn't think of any accidental deaths that had happened within recent years but could see the potential for them if the Church thought Eli, her knowledge, and anyone she shared that knowledge with was a threat.  If similar had happened even back in Eli's time when, as history detailed, the world had been living in what amounted to a utopia...guess humans really hadn't changed much in three hundred years.

"Yeah, well, we just make sure that doesn't happen," Asher found himself saying, and then immediately stopped as all eyes shifted to him.  He'd...not actually intended to say that out loud since it was only a half-formed thought but too late now.  "Not...not that I'm suggesting we pick a fight with the Church or anything.  Or have a gaggle of body guards following Eli around-"

Eli snorted.  "By the Three I'd hope not."

He grinned at that.  "-BUT, what we CAN do is take some steps to make sure a confrontation doesn't happen, or doesn't have a reason to happen.   That means keeping people away from places they don't belong - which is something we do now anyway - and also not turning a blind eye to churchfolks who like to make up stories about things or people.  I know Arlo's dealt with that here already," he added after a breath, looking to the man.

Arlo in turn nodded and crossed his arms.  "I have.   Thankfully Lee understood early on exactly where Gale and the Civil Corps stood on the topic -- the few things he spread around were squashed quickly and, to my knowledge, he's back to his usual sermons without 'embellishing' them."

Asher looked back to Eli.  "Yeah, that - squash the lies, and just be careful about things - Portia might have opened all her other ruins for exploring but there's a lot of them across the continent that're closed, period, because they're too fragile, dangerous, or too many people rely on whatever's in them to be fairly distributed. It'd be up to Portia to set rules on who gets to come in here and why but if you end up turning this place into something everyone can use then we'd know who's here and for what reason, and anyone without a good reason can be shown the door.  An Enforcer is going to stick out like a sore thumb if they come anywhere near Portia anyway. And the Church HAS come around on stuff like water filtration, powered tools, electric generating gadgets...they're definitely trigger happy on everything they come across but even they can be made to see the benefit to things eventually."

"And besides," Sam picked up, "it's not like the enforcers are assassins or anything.  At most they can arrest people in the regions they have jurisdiction in, and at best they get arrested themselves for causing problems."

Adam grunted. "Threat of jail hasn't stopped 'em from arresting in places they don't have power in.  There's a lot of bullhonk out in the world that you lot don't see in a town like this.  They're not friendly."

"They're NOT murderers though," Asher interrupted, shooting Adam an annoyed look.  "But accidents do happen when they get a bit...overeager in their work and yeah, sometimes they do try to step out of bounds if they feel threatened or justified."

Eli looked between the two Pigs.  "I think we need to have a chat on what these enforcers are, what they do, and what they're SUPPOSED to do.  Are they reigned in by law at all?"

"Of course.  Doesn't mean they stick to it," Adam answered.  "Same as anyone."

Mali shook her head and gestured for Asher and Adam to quiet.  "WE," she said, gesturing to the Pigs, "would be happy to discuss the politics and laws of the wider world.  Whenever you'd like to just let us know."

Eli nodded.  "I appreciate it.  I'll be busy this afternoon so maybe later tonight, or even tomorrow."

Asher could see her glance over to Arlo and give him a barely perceptible nod; guess whatever she was up to this afternoon included him, or the Civil Corps, or both.  After another pause in the conversation Eli stood up and again invited them all to play around with their Hi-Defs, reminded them to set their voice locks, then headed out of the room with Arlo following along a few moments later.

For one brief moment he contemplated following them; everyone else had their attentions back on their Hi-Defs so he doubted they'd even notice if he slipped out.  But, it was pretty clear, when neither Remington or Sam moved to leave, that whatever Eli's plans were for the afternoon they included Arlo and just Arlo...if others were welcome she probably would have said something.   He looked around at everyone again -- whether he followed Eli and Arlo or not he did know he wanted to get back out on the surface and into fresh air; the Research Center, with Stewart's help, had fully repaired the air system down here so he logically knew that fresh air was always circulating but it didn't stop the feelings of mild claustrophobia and stuffiness he got when he was down here for awhile.  He'd give Arlo and Eli time to get back to the surface then would head that way himself and tuck himself into a quiet corner of the tent while he fiddled with the Hi-Def.

Asher flipped through the screens back to communication and sorted Mali and Adam into a separate group he labeled "Flying Pigs," and then slid all three of the Civil Corps members into their own group as well.  Setting up the voice commands were easy ("call Pigs" and "call Civil" respectively, since Eli had suggested "call" as a command word to use) and then he found his fingers hovering over Arlo and Eli's names; after a moment to consider he slid the two of them into another custom group.

Adam and Mali might be his fellow Pigs but he wasn't especially close to either of them - before now he'd not even had a chance to talk to them much since they were always doing their own things; he was closer to Greg than he was to anyone else in the Flying Pigs but only because they'd shared a bunk room at headquarters up until Greg got married and moved in to a house with his wife.  Arlo reminded him of Greg in a lot of ways and, despite having watched him fail the entry exam multiple times, Asher was still convinced that Arlo would make it eventually and was looking forward to being there when he finally did (and hey - he hadn't had a bunk mate since Greg moved out and Arlo would be expected to spend his first two years living at headquarters as a rule).

And, when it came to Eli... Well.

He titled their group "Buds" but held off on setting up a voice command.  For now.

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

"Hey you!"

Harrison took a moment to reply (he hated being interrupted mid-sentence when reading) but found himself smiling up at Lily as she leaned over his pile of books.

"Hello there - I didn't hear you come in."

She giggled and patted a hand on top of what was basically a barricade of reading material lined up along the outer edge of the little table he studied at.  "Gee, I wonder why."

He felt his face go a bit red but he laughed quietly all the same and quickly moved a few stacks of books down to the floor near his feet.  "Sorry.  What are you up to today?"

"I came by to ask if you had any letters or anything you'd like me to take back to Lucien."

"Back to Lucien?" he repeated.  A sinking feeling hit him - she was leaving?  

Lily nodded.  "Uh huh.  It's about time to head back home to check in with mom - I try to stay away only a couple months at a time. If I come home at regular intervals then she worries less."  She paused and squinted at him, then waved her hands frantically.  "But I'm coming back!  I'm going to come back!" she added in a rush.  "I just have to let her know I'm ok!"

"Oh," he said, letting out a loud breath.  "Ok.  Yes, that - that sounds like a good thing to do.  Um..."  

He'd had a pad of paper here somewhere...  As he started sorting through the folders and remaining books on his desk Lily stood there and rocked back and forth from heels to toes, like she usually did when standing still (well, not STILL - she seemed incapable of not moving some part of her when standing around idle) and then she bent to yank something out from under a pile on the corner.

"Here you go-" she held out the writing pad to him with a grin.

"Thanks."  He grabbed it and leafed through the pages inside; there was a half-completed letter in here somewhere...ah.  Carefully he pulled the page free and flipped it around to show her.  "I sort of do.  When did you plan on heading home?"

"I'd planned on heading up to Sandrock today and catching the bus north but I can wait until tomorrow."

"I can have this done here in a few minutes if you really want to leave today."

Lily wrinkled her nose and sighed.  "I don't REALLY want to leave but I have to.  BUT, like I said, I'm going to come back.  I even have a job lined up for when I come back, too!"

Harrison blinked at her.  "Oh?"  How long had she planned on leaving without mentioning anything to him...?

"Mmhmm.  That old lady farmer is willing to hire me on as an extra farmhand to help with the spring planting and all the little baby animals that'll be born or hatching here soon.  That'll earn me enough that I wouldn't have to worry for awhile."

"How long will you be gone?" he asked as he fished around for a pencil.

"I'll probably be back within a week."  She hummed to herself for a breath, then spun on a heel to face the door.  "I'll be back in a bit for that, ok?"

"All right."

Harrison watched her skip out of the clinic and huffed out a sigh.  He shouldn't be too surprised or disappointed that she'd be going home but logic and sense rarely went hand in hand with... The "L" word felt a bit too much at this point but he was definitely interested in her, and she in him.  It was highly unfair for him to expect her to stay here, just because he was here, without giving any thought to her own needs or obligations.

Quickly he skimmed over the letter; he'd been halfway through detailing everything he'd done so far in Portia - this wouldn't take long to finish.

Not long after Lily had left the doors opened again; Dr. Xu came in leading someone with a heavy bandage taped to their chin.   Harrison paused in his letter writing and watched as Xu led the man over toward the Uplifter, and lifted the machine's dust cover while directing the man to pull over a stool.

"Would you like a hand, Dr. Xu?"

"That would be welcomed, Harrison, thank you."

He got up and came around to help the patient position the stool in front of the Uplifter.  "Here, just sit here and -- yes, like that, and sit up straight.  Dr. Xu will lower that part there that looks like a plate and adjust it near your face."  

"And this thing'll be able to fix it?" the man asked.  His voice was obviously pained and also slurred, as he didn't seem willing to move his mouth and jaw more than he had to.

"It'll close the wound and there shouldn't be any scar visible, yes," Xu answered.  "Go ahead and take the bandage off while I get the last few steps completed. This will sting briefly as it starts up but will numb soon after-"

Harrison looked from the man to Dr. Xu as Xu cut off mid-sentence; the doctor was patting at the side of the machine and looking confused.  "What's wrong?"

"Hmm.  The manual for it isn't in its usual slot.  Have you seen it?"  Harrison shook his head and Xu hummed to himself.  "Well.  I have the steps memorized but I had wanted you to follow along in the manual as I worked."

"Perhaps it accidentally got mixed in with Phyllis's things when she moved to her new practice?"

"It's possible," Xu replied, nodding to Harrison.  "When we finish here would you mind walking out there to check?"

"I need to finish something quickly before that but otherwise I don't mind at all."

Xu smiled and began to input the commands into the Uplifter's computer panel; Harrison leaned over to help the man on the stool remove the bandage, and then winced when he saw the injury -- it was a deep wound, with jagged edges, and he could see the white of bone beneath it.  Once Xu had all the commands in place he settled the headpiece of the Uplifter over the man's head fully and hit the Start button.

"No talking," Xu said then.  "This will take several minutes."

Harrison could see the man flinch as the machine whirred to life but afterward the man sat calmly, unmoving, as the Uplifter did its work.

Since there would be some time to kill while the machine mended the injury Harrison returned to his table and went back to his letter.  Assuming there weren't any other emergencies or distractions he should have this done well before Lily came back for it.

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

"How many keys were on the keyboard I was using?"

"Fifty six.  Fifty seven if the secondary power button counts."

"Good. How many birds over there?"

"Fo- no, five."

"And what are they?"

"Sounds like common house sparrows."

"Right. Cows in the field?"

"Unfair question - McDonald said one was in labor."

"Assume the calf hasn't made an appearance yet."

"Fourteen."

"Horses?"

"Three.  The rest were in the barn still."

As they walked along Eli nodded approvingly at him; these early techniques she was teaching him were hard to describe but when put into practice Arlo found they weren't so impossible as he'd initially thought.

"How far off is the Dee-Dee?"

Arlo paused; he was certain he hadn't seen or heard the Dee-Dee that ran between here and town yet but if Eli was asking, then...

All right, so maybe he shouldn't feel so confident in himself just yet.

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

Harrison's letter was safely in her pack; he'd written out his parent's address and on the back of the envelope he'd even given her a crudely drawn map of how to get there from Lucien's town square.  

It was going to be a really simple matter to find his family.

The bus had dropped her off at the stop just outside of Lucien's border; a group had gotten off with her and as they all filed through the little turnstile to get off the platform Lily tried to tamp down her irritation at being jostled by all the careless people around her.

And then finally she was out into the night, and free.  No one in the near vicinity, and no one paying any attention to her when she passed.

There was a run down shed on the northern side of Lucien that held old, rusted gardening equipment.  The padlock looked equally as rusted but she knew that was just for looks; her key turned soundlessly in it and, after making sure no one was around, she slipped inside and picked her way among the clutter until she came to an empty workbench with a heavy burlap rug pinned underneath the bench's front two legs.  She flipped the rug aside to reveal a trap door and used a second key to open it before sliding down the ladder and into a cramped, barely lit tunnel that led to a considerably more comfortable room with padded chairs, a few bunk beds, and a tiny kitchenette.

Normally there would be three or four people here, waiting; tonight there was only one - a dark haired man, short and squat, with a ruddy complexion and face dotted with pimples and acne scars.  He was listening to a small radio and when Lily stepped into the room he spun around with one hand going for a gun holstered at his side.  When he finally registered who she was he visibly calmed, then an instant later growled at her angrily.

"What are YOU doing here?  Captain Xan didn't-"

"Shut up," Lily snapped.  She stomped in and yanked Harrison's letter out of her pack before letting the bag drop to the floor.  "Through sheer dumb luck I stumbled on something that we can't pass up.  Call him down here."

Grunting and puffing the fat man got up out of his chair and shoved passed her to go back up the tunnel she'd just come from.   Lily yanked the envelope open, took the letter out and flattened it across a table, then carefully opened the envelope's seams so it too could lay flat.

She waited longer than she wanted to but soon the scarred man came back, huffing and puffing and with his face even redder with exertion; behind him trailed a rail-thin man with a shaved head, seven piercings in his left ear, and what could be mistaken for smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes.  He was dressed in old, stained clothing, and had a heavy apron tossed over one arm -- it would seem Xan was still working his cover job as a butcher over on the southern side of Lucien's market district.

"What brings you back early, Lily?" Xan asked.  His tone was smooth and calm but Lily could tell by the way his jaw bulged a bit that he was gritting his teeth -- she didn't know what he'd been told by the fat messenger but it was clear he was mad at her.

"An opportunity fell into my lap," she answered.  With a light touch she turned the letter and envelope with its map around to face him, then pushed it across the table toward him. "There's a doctor in Portia, with a student who sounds just like him. And that machine we've heard of exists and does exactly as rumored - I have the manual to prove it.  Doctor and student are roughly the same size and height as well."

Xan's face broke into a cold smile as he gingerly picked up the envelope and studied the map; that was one thing Lily liked about Xan -- he understood her ideas and plans without her having to painstakingly spell it out for him.  "Have you acted on it?"

"Not yet.  I think it best if we have some bargaining chips first.  I've charmed the student so it won't be odd for me to be seen in and around the clinic -- and besides, the lock on their doors as well as on the doctor's desk are ridiculously easy to pick.  We can take out the doctor and force the student to replace him once we have the appropriate motivation in place for the student."

Xan nodded slowly, tapping the edge of the envelope against his lower lip as he thought; it was several minutes before the man spoke again.  "We'll prepare a place to hold everyone -- we will, after all, need ready access to the doctor so we can feed information to the student, so that the illusion holds.   When will the All Source be moved into the clinic?"

"That I'm not sure.  I found all the information about their plans to expand the clinic but construction hasn't started yet, nor was there any hint as to when it would."

"Wait until construction is under way, then you may act," Xan ordered.  "I'll send Marcus and Evangeline to back you up directly, and will have others standing by to get the All Source secured and away when the time comes. Leave the hostages to us."

"What do you want me to do in the meantime?  They know someone has been keeping an eye on the facility."

"Do whatever you have to to keep your current cover intact," Xan replied.  "Is the suit secured?"

Lily jerked her head toward the pack on the floor.  "I need a few replacement wires - one of the Flying Pig bitches shot me in the arm."

Xan turned around toward the ruddy-faced man.  "Tell Steven we need the filament wires, immediately."  When the man nodded Xan turned back to her.  "You've done exceptionally well -- I'll make sure you get a bonus.  Take some time, rest - actually visit your mother if you so choose.   Leave the suit here for Steven though."

Lily nodded.  "Understood.  Is anyone staying here tonight?"

"Just Howie," Xan said, gesturing toward the fat man.  "-who SHOULD have already left to fetch Steven, yet here we are."

At that Howie about fell over himself to scramble from the room again; Xan let out a short chuckle that trailed into a sigh.  

Lily wrinkled her nose and picked up the letter, offering it to Xan who took it and carefully folded it with the envelope.  "I will go home then.   I'm in no mood to share a space with an ugly idiot."

"Fair enough.  Tell your mother I said, thank you for the chamomile.  It made a very pleasant tea."

"I will. You know where to find me."

Wordlessly Xan nodded and turned to leave; Lily gave him plenty of time to have disappeared into the night before she too left the underground hidey hole and headed out into the evening air.  Steven had repaired the suit before so she wasn't concerned about leaving it behind.

She took her time walking home and stopped at the front gate to take a steadying breath and get her mind back into "happy go lucky airhead Lily" mode.   It was so exhausting to keep up that facade but knew if she didn't play the right part then her mother would ask questions she'd rather not answer.

With an inner grimace but an outward smile Lily pushed the gate open; the front windows were open to let in the night breeze and the lights were still on.  "Moooooom," she called out as she walked up the path toward the front porch.  "I'm hooooooome!"