#yes bill is a parrot in this AU

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Haha, they’re gonna fucking die

———>

Had an idea for a Backrooms themed GF au.

Ford joins the MEG after college and quickly works his way to becoming a lead explorer. His goal in exploring the backrooms is to both discover the nature of it, and to find Stanley, who he suspects fell into it years earlier, not long after getting kicked out. Fiddleford doesn’t work for MEG, but Ford pulled strings to get him invited as a guest explorer/technology consultation expert. Fords exploration team is full of the best MEG employees he knows…. Who all are secretly crazy and worship a parrot.

Let’s see if he can find his brother and get out alive!

[keouil]

let my blood be water to you

"oh, right, sure!" gojo scoffs. "blame the vampire!" 1k. gojo/nanami. vampire!au. also on ao3.

In hindsight, it really was Yuji's fault.

But he digresses:

"Let me begin by saying," Gojo starts, addressing the makeshift town hall full of angry townsfolk glaring daggers at him. "That while yes, parts of the village are currently burning, it was not my fault for once."

"Bulltshit." Someone swears from the crowd. Gojo doesn't even have to check to know who it was, the raspy cadence to it familiar. "I saw you go into the church earlier with boxes of candles."

Gojo sighs. "Yes, Nanami-san," he nods along, somberly. "The church. Likely place for a prospective priest to be, don't you think?"

"We already have a priest," offers Nanami, gritted teeth.

"And how good you do it," parrots Gojo back in turn, canines flashing.

"You're dead," Megumi deadpans, choosing that moment to stroll in with more blankets and a fresh load of refreshments from Tsumiki. "I don't understand why you don't burn every time you try entering the place."

Gojo gasps, affronted. "What did I say about using the D word!"

"It's what you are," Shoko this time, who was currently tending to a wounded Getou, who was actually looking particularly scrumptious with burn cuts all over his chest but the middle finger he was giving him in response just soured his appetite altogether. "Didn't you basically beg Toji to give you civil rights and all that?"

"First of all," Gojo lifts a finger. "I do not beg. Begging is for puny mortals. I consider myself elevated in that regard, quite literally, as an immortal myself. Second of all," he continues, eyes going over the crowd. "I think everyone here can learn a thing or two from last year's Thanksgiving feast that your local governor and I, unfortunately, do not get along."

"You called him a deadbeat dad and told him you could do a better job at raising Megumi than he ever could," reminds Meimei, not even bothering to look up from the town registry where she was currently counting down their inventory. Gojo reminds himself to remind someone of the not so sneaky way she was palming a few bills to her corset. "I know I'm not a saint and all, but lines, Gojo. There are lines."

"I said none of those things!" defends Gojo.

"To his face," says Utahime, helping put down a few makeshift cots. "But the implication was clear enough."

"Megumi," Gojo turns his attention to him. "Did I or did I not imply those things." 

Megumi didn't even wait for a beat to answer. "You implied," he says, before sauntering off to the rest of the other younglings across the square currently trying to calm down other even younger younglings. Yuji, in particular, was surprisingly good at his bedside voice; Nobara, however, not so much. Stop crying or we’ll make Megumi-nii sing and give you a real reason to cry!

Gojo waves them all off impatiently. "One crisis at a time," he decides. "We can save Megumi's daddy issues for another hearing."

"I wasn't aware that's what we were doing," says Nanami, a frown on his brow. “Considering you just burned down parts of the town hall, along with the rest of the church you so verbally favor.”

Gojo snaps his fingers once for a gavel to appear on his hand. "Gavel, see," he relays. "I have the justice thing going on and everything." 

“Fine,” Nanami crosses his arms. "Then what exactly happened?"

Gojo breathes once, twice, before finally saying: "It was Yuji's fault."

Yuji, from way across the other side of the square and has Gojo convinced was partly supernatural himself because of that pesky inhumane hearing, decides it is decidedly not his fault. "Not true!" he cries out, covering a peasant child’s ears. "I didn't even know what he was going to do with all the candles!"

Shoko makes a face. "What were you doing with that many candles?"

“Mood lighting,” Gojo deadpans. “Gothic vibes and all that.” 

"That's not a thing," says Nanami. “It’s literally already a gothic church.”

Gojo’s eyes slant to a glare, and if his ears reddened just a fraction despite having no blood to filter it at all through, they blame it on the heat of the flames currently licking on his skin. At least Nanami does.

He doesn’t say that to anyone, however.

-

The day started off fairly innocently.

There Gojo was, on his usual morning leisure walk across the town, trying in vain to ignore Meimei propositioning him for a night of fun provided by her many consorts at the local brothel. Nervous little Yuuta was trailing behind Miguel, the town judo master, and nearly tripped on his feet when one of the carriages brought in a fresh batch of pumpkins along with an even fresher batch of royal twins. It's pathetic, really, the way his eyes lit up the moment Maki descended from the carriage. Miguel had to bark at him at least three times to follow before he finally snapped out of it and did. 

Ah, thought Gojo breezily, Young love.

The rest of the morning followed in a fashion so like it did in the past however many months he'd been assigned vampire consort to this bustling little town by the forest. He made his rounds on the local townsfolk, pledging on and on the strategic nature of the vampire-human alliance that was precariously dangling on it's tenth year of cohabilitation that, despite all taunts from anyone otherwise, he actually did not want to jeopardize.

So really, things were going really well.

Until he got to the church.

Until apropos of nothing, not a knock or a hiss or a warning; the wooden doors to the cathedral unceremoniously swung open to reveal the tall and bulky and downright delectable frame of one Nanami Kento, Head Priest and Number One Cause for His Temptation. Gojo paused at the landing of the stairs and could have sworn to himself he was staring at the sun himself. There Nanami stood, an unwilling guide to his otherwise lovely company, with nothing but the displeasure in his face as a greeting.

Gojo's face immediately fell. "What," he said in alarm. "What is it. What have I done wrong now."

Nanami just quirked an eyebrow at him before lifting a finger, gesturing for him to follow. Gojo does so on shaky legs and absolutely does not, he insists, fall back just so to admire a certain back side.

Nanami led them to the farthest room of the building at the farthest hallway, where the smell of something waxy was starting to grow gradually stronger with each step they took. 

"What is that?" Gojo sniffed. "Is something burning?"

Something about that seems to bemuse Nanami, but he doesn't say anything and instead shoulders his way through the last door. Gojo pretended not to be impressed, and pretended even harder not to see how the movement made the muscles in his uniform stretch past his forearms against the fabric enough he actually saw the muscles trying to bulge out. He didn’t have to do much in the way of an award-winning performance of pretending, however—because the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door was enough to elicit a genuine shock out of him.

"Itadori Yuji!" Gojo gasped. "What are you doing with all this!"

"He told me you told him to meet you here," Nanami relayed, patiently it seemed but thawing by the minute. "For the thing."

Gojo was gobsmacked. "What thing."

"The thing."

"I have no such recollection whatsoever about this thing."

"The Megumi thing then."

Gojo paused. "Megumi—" he stopped, blinked, and then his eyes widened in realization. "Oh you mean the—"

-

"Proposal," Nanami finishes the recollection for him. "You were helping him do.. a proposal?"

"Yes," Gojo nods along vehemently. "Yes, that sounds right."

"Your brilliant idea of a proposal idea was for the kid to light up a hundred candles in an old, wooden church that helped spell out 'WILL YOU MARRY ME FUSHIGURO' knowing full well how weak and brittle the firewood is?"

A beat.

"No," Gojo lies. "No, that doesn't sound right."

"Yuji said it was your idea and that you were going to take care of everything," Nanami explains. "I don't suppose taking care of everything means also taking accountability for intentionally wrecking a historic site that's been here longer than anyone else?"

"Oh, right, sure!" Gojo scoffs hotly. "Blame the vampire!"

"Your being a vampire has nothing to do with it!" Nanami argues right back. "This isn’t the first time you've tried to endanger the town with your satanic ways!"

"Blasphemy!" Gojo cries out. "No priest has ever said the S word and survived!"

"It's in the Bible for a reason and that's not the point," Nanami rubs at his temples. “Seriously. A burning candle in a wooden church?”

“I never said anything about vampires being particularly smart,” Gojo puts his hands up in surrender. “About us being ridiculously good-looking with deathly charms, however—”

"Two," Nanami cuts him off.

Gojo’s grin falls. “What.”

"We found two boxes of candles on the scene," Nanami elaborates impatiently, turning to face him. "What were you going to use the other one for?"

Gojo, for the first time in literally a hundred years, is rendered speechless. Yuji, having enough of being ostracized and made guinea pig to useless men and their useless attempts at flirtation, uses that time to cry out from the other side of the town hall:

"HE WANTED ME TO DO THE SAME THING TO ASK YOU OUT!"

No one speaks for a full second.

Then a minute.

Then—

"Now that, Gojo-san," says Nanami slowly, the corners of his mouth tugging up. "That's just plain old sin."

[wincestisasincest]

Who Loves the Sun?

Viktor x Fem!Reader MAD MAX AU BITCHES

Hi, so I was very inspired by @grumpyoutlaw and their Mad Max Vik, and I just had to get this little blurb out of my head! Please go check out their art and show them some love if you haven't already.

This is unedited and bad, but like c'mon you know I had to do it to 'em.

Word Count: 1.2k

Triggers: None? Oh, but there are guns, because like... Mad Max

The skin is peeling from your nose. You pull the bill of your baseball cap down further, as if that small thing can protect you from the sun. Whatever. It’s not the sun that you need protection from now. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear a voice from outside the gas station door, “Vik... I think someone beat us to it.” 

You snap the muzzle of your shotgun up and down. You’ve got 4 shells in there, which won’t be enough. You’ll have to be expedient. 

“I don’t see anyone,” another voice answers. The accent is... strange. You’ve heard it before in movies, but can’t quite pin it. 

“Well, their Jeep is here. Who’d leave this out in the open?” 

“Maybe the owner died.” 

“Optimistic this morning, huh?” 

You can’t tell if the serrated question at the end is aggression or sarcasm, though you’re hoping for the latter. Even from here, you can see the long shadow that their rig casts, blocking most of the sunlight from coming in through the gas station window. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Well,” the first voice sighs, “I guess we better get to it.” 

You should wait. You should wait, you should wait, you should wait. Nothing, not the diesel, not your Jeep, is worth your life. But damnit, there’s just two guys. You can take them. You’ve spent so much time being overcautious out here, you feel like you’re owed some brazenness. 

So you come out from behind the corner, and the business end of your shotgun is inches away from a tanned, square face with a strong jaw, crouching in front of the fuel pump. 

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, “I found it first.” 

He’s caught off guard, but only for a second.

“So you did,” he puts his hands up, sighing. 

“Oh, shit,” the other voice parrots his friend. You can only see a gangly silhouette as he peers out the front of the truck - a fucking massive 18 wheeler - and the sunlight crawls on his back. 

It’s quiet, one of those moments where you swear you can hear the heat rising from the earth. 

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to trade some spare tires for it?” the man chuckles, but you stay stoic. 

“Don’t suppose I would.” 

“Right,” he bites his lip, “well, listen, I don’t know what you’d want for it, but whatever it is, we can get it for you once we get back into town.” 

“You’re a townie?” 

“Pulled Over.” 

You relax the shotgun in your grip. You’ve heard of Pulled Over - the people there are no threat to you, even if they’re not exactly accommodating of wanderers. 

“I’m not sharing,” you say, more just to see what he’ll do than anything else. 

“No, I wouldn’t either if I were you,” the second voice, coming in through one of your ears, has moved. He’s in front of your Jeep now, with the hood popped, judging your engine like it’s his goddamn birthright, “Did you supercharge this engine yourself?” 

He’s handsome. Not like the other one, who looks like some pre-apocalypse vision of a Prince Charming, even in the road getup. No, this one, with goggles precariously balanced on his forehead and soot contouring the sharp lines of his face, has the wiliness of a mad scientist that sets the plot in motion. 

“...yes?” 

“It’s good work,” he praises, running his finger along one of the engine’s metal rims and grinding the rust between his fingers, “but your spark plug needs replacing. You’re burning through fuel faster than you should.” 

“Yeah, well, if you find a replacement spark plug that I don’t need to murder someone over, let me know,” you snort. 

“Ah, we have those,” the square one says, “in Pulled Over. But... we need the diesel first.”  

You exhale through your nose. 

“Alright, well, I guess we can split it, and I’ll-” 

“We need all of it,” the handsome one says. 

“All of it?” 

“We’re empty.” 

“So am I, and,” you pause, rolling back your shoulders, “Pulled Over’s like, what, 60 miles from here? This much won’t get your rig there.”

“It will,” Handsome insists, and you finally notice that he’s supporting himself with what looks like recycled PVC pipe with a handle molded from metal, as though it’s a cane, “we’re not solely reliant on diesel.” 

“What?” you squint at him, “What the hell else does it run on, magic?” 

“If you give us the diesel, I can show you.” 

“Ugh,” you throw your head back to the sky, but only for a second, so they don’t have time to think they’re off the hook, “and I’m supposed to just, what, trust you?” 

“In theory, yes. If we’re lying, you can shoot Jayce.” 

“Hey!” the square one - Jayce - says, and it actually makes Handsome crack a smile. 

“I’m kidding. You can shoot me,” he corrects, removing his long rifle with a spiked, claw-shaped muzzle from the sling and sliding it through the dirt to you in surrender. 

You don’t take it yet. 

“Funny looking gun.” 

“Wait till you see the truck.” 

He wasn’t kidding. While Jayce attaches the tow line to the front of your Jeep, you join Handsome in the front seat, the shotgun still ready for action and an extra gun hanging over your shoulder. 

Instead of sitting, though, he stands on top of the drivers seat, looking through the roof at something over the long, flat body of the truck.

“Come,” he waves you up. 

When you wobble to your feet to join him, you’re nearly blinded by all of the scattered light bouncing from its reflective surface. It’s smooth and blue, looking a bit like graph paper, and sprawling over every inch of the vehicle’s top. 

“Woah,” is all you can say. 

“They are solar panels,” he explains, leaning on the roof with his elbows, “They are based off of some old blueprints I found.” 

“Renewable,” you say, “that’s... wow.” 

“Yes, if there’s one thing we do not lack here, it’s sunlight.” 

He turns to look at you, and for the first time you see his eyes, the same color as iron rich dirt. You’d think after driving through that desolate, sun-kissed hue for your whole life, you’d get sick of it, but it suits him. 

“You can say that again,” you copy him, bending forward on the roof to admire his work. 

“Jayce and I plan to implement it all throughout Pulled Over once we have perfected the design.” 

“That so?” you raise an eyebrow. 

“You don’t believe me?” he doesn’t sound offended, just curious. 

“Eh,” you tilt your head back and forth, “jury’s still out. That would really be something, though.” 

You rest your chin in your hand, and the world lapses into comfortable silence, and again you swear that you can hear the heat, this time not coiling through the air, but stinging the panels as they absorb it. 

Finally, you realize you’ve forgotten something. You shove your hand in his direction and offer your name. 

He takes it, and his long fingers are surprisingly chilled as they squeeze around your palm. 

“Viktor,” he says, and you get to see him grin for a second time, though your unable to tell if the burn on his cheeks is from the sun or not,  “it’s a pleasure.” 

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive 

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight. 

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.” 

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—” 

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger. 

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour. 

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide. 

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction. 

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

[jaynovz]

please ramble about the street performer AU bc i have been dying to know

Woo, bless!

Okay so the general premise is that Silver is a couch-surfing, unhoused street performer. The only things he has to his name are his guitar, a shitty truck that won't start half the time, and a great green macaw.

Silver is not an especially talented guitarist, but he's a charmer and his bird is part of the act. Parrots really like music and often just Vibe. This dynamic is greatly inspired by this YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTm_-jtRW4g So yeah like, imagine that, but Silver doesn't play guitar very well, LMAO.

Anyway the lad is just trying to scrape by, he's got a pretty shitty life, frankly. Super in debt from medical bills, no permanent residence. Throw in all the usual Silver self-esteem and abandonment issues. D: So anyway he finds this new street to set up on and it's right next to a bakeshop. Flint's bakeshop.

So essentially there's this Meet-Ugly of Flint being extremely agitated by Silver and his parrot attracting crowds of passersby, and stomping out there to tell him, basically, to fuck off.

So yes, hilarity and snarking ensues. Also, we gave poor Silver celiac disease (which can in fact develop as a result of something traumatic. Like a leg chop,) which is where the Gluten Free Cupcakes Are a Love Language comes in.

There's a lot more going on, but like I said, gonna keep a FEW secrets. :P

Thanks for asking~

[thelastspeecher]

Best Revenge AU - Finally, Some Ford Content

Ford has been suspiciously absent from all of the ficlets I’ve posted thus far in this AU, and while I’ve talked a bit about his role, I haven’t gone too in depth.  So, here, for everyone craving some Best Revenge AU Ford, I’m here to satisfy that craving.  Finally, some Ford content.  Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Ford slowly woke up.

              Shit.  I stayed the night, didn’t I?  He sat up. The man he’d slept with the night before was already up and getting dressed.

              “Mornin’.”

              “Good morning,” Ford said hesitantly, realizing to his horror that he couldn’t remember the man’s name.  “Um…”

              “I can make ya some breakfast ‘fore I send ya on yer way,” his one-night-stand said.  “I’ve got to check in on my sister first; she’s startin’ a new job today. You can find yer way to the kitchen and make yourself some coffee while I’m talkin’ to her.”

              “…Okay,” Ford mumbled.  The man finished dressing and left the room.  Ford hesitated for a moment before dressing as well.  He exited the bedroom.

              Which way is the kitchen?  Ford chewed on the inside of his cheek and turned left. He followed the hallway down to a living room.  One corner of the room had a colored rug, baby toys, and a playpen.  He said that he lived with his sister, right? Maybe she has a child.  Ford wandered into the adjacent kitchen.  His jaw dropped.  There was someone sitting at the kitchen table.  Someone he recognized.

              “Holy shit, Stan?!” Ford said.  Stan looked up with a frown.

              “Hey, keep it down around Junior.”  His eyes widened.  “Ford?!”

              “I- you-”  Ford’s gaze landed on the infant in Stan’s arms, greedily drinking from a bottle of milk.  “Is- is that your child?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “…Sorta.”

              “What do you mean by-” Ford started.  He was interrupted by the arrival of his one-night-stand.

              “Oh, I see ya met my sister’s boyfriend,” he said. Stan groaned loudly.

              “Lute.  How dark was the nightclub where you found last night’s lay?”

              “Didn’t pick him up at a nightclub.  Found him at the library when I dropped off books fer Angie,” Lute said cheerfully.

              “Look at his face.”

              “Hmm?”  Lute looked at Ford.  He paled. “…Oh.”

              “You managed to hook up with my no-good twin,” Stan said.  The infant in his arms began to fuss.  “Aw, it’s okay Junior,” Stan cooed.  “I know, Uncle Ford is scary, especially his face.”  Ford crossed his arms.

              “We have the same face, Stanley.”

              “Since Lute didn’t realize we were related when he picked you up, I don’t agree,” Stan said tartly.  Ford sighed.  “You better get going before you make Junior even more upset.”

              “I’m not going anywhere until I find out what you’ve been up to and why you’re holding an infant that you said is ‘sort of’ yours,” Ford said firmly.  Stan scowled.

              “Lute, kick him out, will ya?”

              “No.”

              “Lute-”

              “I think it might be good fer the two of ya to reconnect,” Lute said.  “Don’t you think the lil bean would like an uncle from yer side?”

              “He won’t know what he’s missing.”

              “Okay, fine.”  Lute smirked.  “How do ya think Angie would want ya to act under this circumstance?”  Stan glared at him.  “You know full well that Angie would want ya to use this opportunity to reunite with yer twin.”

              “…Fine.”  Stan adjusted his hold on the infant.  “Why didn’t you come to the kitchen with Ford, Lute?”

              “I wanted to check in on Angie, but she’s still sleepin’.”

              “Yeah.  Since she’s starting her new job, I figured I’d feed Junior.”  Stan grinned down at the infant.  “He can’t be happy he’s getting his breakfast from a bottle instead of a boob.”  Lute rolled his eyes.

              “Crass, Stanley.”

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

              “You catch up with yer twin while I whip up some eggs,” Lute instructed, already opening the fridge.  Ford walked over to the table and sat in the chair next to Stan. He peered closely at the infant.

              “So…”

              “So…” Stan parroted.

              “What’s his name?”

              “Stanley Junior,” Stan said.  He frowned.  “Well, he’s not really a Junior, since he’s got his mom’s last name instead of mine. But he’s named after me, so we call him Junior.”

              “Ah.  And, um, how old is he?”

              “Four months.”

              “Four months?  Are babies supposed to be that small at four months?”

              “Doc says he’s definitely smaller than average, but that he can probably catch up pretty quick,” Stan answered.  He removed the now empty bottle from Junior’s mouth, then burped him.  “He’s a good kid.”

              “Is he yours?” Ford asked.  Stan set the empty bottle on the table.  “You said he ‘sort of’ was.”

              “If you were anyone else, I woulda left that part out,” Stan muttered.  “I hate your guts, but I’m not used to lying to you.”

              “Pardon?”

              “Biologically, he’s not mine.  He’s my girlfriend’s ex-husband’s.  But with how bad things got between Angie and Max, she decided not to tell him about Junior.”

              That’s a strange coincidence.  Didn’t Max Hillcrest at work recently go through a divorce?  What was his wife’s name again?

              “I was dating Angie, so I stepped up,” Stan continued with a shrug.  “And Angie named her kid after me.  I’m the only dad this little bean’s ever known.  If things go well, I’ll be the only dad he ever knows.”

              “Little bean?”

              “That’s what Angie called him while she was pregnant with him.  It stuck.” Stan smiled fondly at Junior. “Isn’t that right, bud?”  Junior giggled.

              “You’re raising another man’s child as your own?” Ford asked, his brain desperately trying to catch up with all he’d been told.

              “Yep.”

              “Why?”

              “I love Angie.  I love Junior.  Why wouldn’t I?” Stan asked, a hint of a bite to his tone.  Junior settled in his arms, smacking his lips happily.

              “Fair enough,” Ford said, deciding to back off. Some tension left Stan’s shoulders. “Other than dating pregnant women and taking in their children, what have you been doing since we last spoke?”

              “You mean, since Pops kicked me outta the house and you didn’t say anything or use your power to summon me in secret at any point for years,” Stan said flatly.  Ford opened and closed his mouth a few times.

              “…Yes.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “When we were younger, I remember you wanting to follow in Mom’s footsteps.  I haven’t seen any pyro heroes around here, though.”

              “Hold up, what?” Lute asked.  The brothers looked over.  Lute stared at Stan in shock.  “Stanley, you wanted to be a hero when you were a kid?”

              “Most supers do.  And like Ford said, our mom was a hero.  I looked up to her.”  Lute was still staring at Stan.  Stan sighed. “Obviously I didn’t do that, Gucket.”

              “Yer mom is a hero?”

              “Retired.  What’s with the third degree?”

              “You understand why that information is important in our line of work, right?” Lute prompted.  “Does Angie know?”

              “Duh.”

              “Why don’t I?”

              “‘Cause I’m not sleeping with you,” Stan snapped. “Even though I’m apparently your type.” Lute turned red.

              “Wait.”  Ford held up his hands.  “Wait. Stanley, am I reading between the lines properly?  Are you- are you a villain?”

              “Maybe I am.  Maybe I’m not,” Stan said.  He met Ford’s eyes.  “But whether I am or not, you know better than to snitch.”  Footsteps sounded.  Stan looked over.  An exuberant smile broke across his face.  “Look who it is!  The hot new professor!”  Ford looked as well.  A young woman stood in the doorway, wearing athletic shorts and a T-shirt she was practically swimming in.

              Presumably, it’s one of Stan’s.  The woman smiled at Stan.

              “I don’t mind it much when ya say it, but I sure hope no one at work calls me that.”

              “If any creepy coworkers do, let me know,” Stan said.  “I’ll handle it.”  The woman grinned viciously.

              “Oh, darlin’, ya know I’m fully capable of handlin’ it myself.”  Stan grinned back.

              “Good point.”  He held up Junior.  “Junior, say hi to your mama.”

              “Aw, he’s too young to talk yet,” the woman cooed. She walked over to Stan, took Junior from him, and sat at the table.  “And I don’t know if his first word ‘ll be ‘hi’.”  She began to lift her T-shirt.

              “Whoa, hey, uh, Ang, you don’t need to whip your boobs out,” Stan said quickly, glancing at Ford in distress.  “I fed him while you were sleeping.”

              “Oh.”

              “Also, we have a guest.”

              “Hmm?”  The woman lowered her shirt and looked up.  “Oh, my apologies.”  She smiled at Ford.  “My name is Angie McGucket.”  Ford felt himself pale.

              McGucket?

              “Dr. Angie McGucket,” Stan corrected.  Angie chuckled.

              “Yes, I have a doctorate,” she said.  She cocked her head, her eyes boring into Ford. “I’m guessin’ yer Stan’s no-good twin I’ve heard so much about.”

              “I- uh-” Ford stammered, still reeling from hearing his ex’s last name dropped so casually.

              “Geez, you make it sound like all I do is talk about Ford,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.  “That’s wrong.  All I do is talk about you and Junior.”  Angie laughed.

              Angie and Lute do appear to have the same nose as Fiddleford.  How could I have been so blind?

              “So, Stanford, what brings ya here?” Angie asked.

              “I brought him home last night,” Lute said.

              “Hmm, that seems out of character fer ya,” Angie said to Ford.  She shrugged. “Just goin’ off the stick-in-the-mud that Stan described to me.”

              “Why do you keep insulting me?” Ford asked. “This is the first time we’ve met.”

              “Maybe, but I also feel like I know ya pretty well,” Angie replied.  She bounced Junior in her arms.  “Stan took a while to start tellin’ me ‘bout ya, but once he did, he had a lot to say.” She smiled.  “Most of it was negative, sure, but some of it was positive.”

              “Angie, shouldn’t ya be gettin’ ready fer work?” Lute asked.  Angie groaned.  “I’ll make ya some nice breakfast while ya dress ‘n whatnot.”

              “Ugh.  Fine.” Angie handed Junior back to Stan, kissed his cheek, and left the room.  Ford coughed politely.

              “I, um, I should probably leave,” he said. Lute looked over.

              “Ya don’t want to stay fer breakfast?”

              “Your sister isn’t the only one who has a shift starting soon.”

              “Shift, huh?” Stan said, raising an eyebrow.  “Where’s the big shot genius working?”

              “Well, uh…”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  “I have been working on my own personal research, but to pay the bills, I’m currently employed as an executive assistant.”  Stan snickered.

              “Isn’t ‘executive assistant’ just a fancy word for ‘secretary’?” he asked.  Ford flushed. “You better get going, then.  Whatever doctor’s office you work for definitely needs you manning the front desk.”

              “Stanley,” Lute scolded.  Ford swallowed his retort.

              He’s been remarkably civil, let him be childish for one moment.

              “…See you later?” he suggested.  Stan froze.  “I mean, the fact that we were able to talk without fighting is, I think, a good sign that we can bury the hatchet.”

              “Ford.”  Stan met Ford’s eyes.  “Junior was here the whole time.  That’s why I didn���t shout or knock your block off.”

              “…Oh,” Ford said softly.

              “But…”  Stan sighed. “I’m not against making up.  Just know that the next time you and I are in the same room, it’s open season if Junior’s not there.”

              “Fair enough.”  Ford managed a smirk.  “I think you’d be surprised by how well I can hold my own now.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “Goodbye, Stanley.”  Ford leaned over to smile at Junior.  Junior stared at him with wide eyes.  “Goodbye, Junior.”  Junior giggled.

              “Bye,” Stan grunted.  Ford waved goodbye to Lute and walked out of the house.  Beeping sounded from his pager.  He pulled it out of his pocket with a sigh.  The message made him sigh again.

              I swear, I’m the only person who can fix the wifi at work.  Everyone else either doesn’t know how or isn’t willing to do one of the secretary’s responsibilities.  Ford shook his head.  He put his pager away and began the long walk to work.  A building full of superheroes and not one of them can unplug a router.

[carewyncromwell]

“With straw, I'll weave a garland; I'll weave it wondrous fine;

With roses, lilies, daisies, I'll mix the eglantine,

And I'll present it to my love when he returns from sea...

I love my love because I know my love loves me."

~“A Maid in Bedlam”

((Here are three lovely variations of this traditional English ballad -- Juliette “Jules” Farrier belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier...and you can read the first part of this POTC AU for Carewyn and Orion here!! <33))

x~x~x~x

Of all the things Carewyn could’ve expected to happen on her voyage back to Port Royal, one was certainly not being tended to by the infamous pirate Captain Orion Amari -- and yet, here she was, her blue Navy coat discarded, sitting on his bed in his cabin as he wrapped her cut and bleeding hands in bandages.

The gesture felt familiar. She’d wrapped his arms and hands in bandages too, while he was staying with them. A few of his wounds had been from bullets, while others had probably been from evading canon fire -- he’d even lost the tops of his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand. It had been a challenge to bandage him properly, since he was shaking so badly...

Carewyn found herself staring at Orion’s hands more than his face as he worked. It was just too hard for her to look him in the face.

For this pirate captain to be that boy she’d helped, all those years ago...for her to see that boy again, after more than ten years...it was so surreal. It wasn’t hard to see that those ten years had changed them both too. The quiet, distrustful, anxious young man who’d flinched at her touch as if he’d never been shown any gentleness in his life was now the detached, unreadable, oddly honorable pirate who had surfed the stair railing down to the deck of her ship and serenely compared Percy to a parrot. It was foolish to act like he was still that same boy who had rippled over her mind off and on over the years whenever she felt most alone and afraid. Even so...

Carewyn’s gaze flickered up to Orion’s face. He was looking down at her hands like she had been, as he tied off the first round of bandages around her left palm and turned his focus to her right hand.

This Captain Amari...was truly nothing like she had expected, all the same.

“May I ask what this was from?” asked Orion softly.

He gestured to the scar on her right forearm.

Now that Orion had initiated conversation again, Carewyn felt comfortable enough to respond. As she’d said before, she wasn’t superstitious, but most of her fellow sailors were, and she’d been at sea so long that she’d grown used to not speaking until spoken to, so as not to needlessly upset anyone else.

“A Frenchman’s cutlass,” she replied. “I was engaged with one of his cohorts in a sea battle off the coast of Martinique. I might’ve lost my arm if Bill hadn’t alerted me in time.”

“Bill...the man who first gave you his name?”

“Yes.”

“Mm. It was fortunate he was there, then.”

Orion’s dark eyes lingered briefly on her scar before returning to bandaging her hand.

“Yes, it was,” granted Carewyn. “...I feel very fortunate to have met Bill and his family.”

Orion didn’t answer. Carewyn let them fall into silence again, her blue eyes once again drifting away.

Orion’s cabin was quite unlike a lot of the Navy cabins she’d visited. The finely carved wood pieces he’d collected evoked lions, unicorns, and ocean waves. Even his walls were decorated with pieces like a dock landscape and an Asian print depicting a dragon.

“That’s from Japan,” said Orion, when he noticed where she was looking. “Their dragons are benevolent creatures in charge of the seas and skies -- it seemed like good company, to have on board.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Carewyn.

She looked at Orion, her lips curled up in a small, wry smile.

“You have very good taste. I must wonder how much of this is stolen, though.”

Orion raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Not as much as you’d think. Though I admit, I may have purchased a few of these with coin I did steal.”

Carewyn gave an airy sigh, and Orion chuckled lowly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t decide to have some naked woman carved into your bed, like so many Navy officers do,” Carewyn said sardonically. “Aren’t they supposed to be ‘good luck?’“

“And yet women themselves are supposed to be bad luck on board a ship,” said Orion, his lips spreading into a wry smile. “A rather confusing contradiction.”

Carewyn scoffed. “Apparently women are only something a lot of men want on board a ship when they’re something they can salivate over.”

“A shame -- Skye is a woman, and she’s easily the fiercest of any of my crew. And...”

Orion’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“...well, here you are, chosen as ship’s Captain.”

Despite the mischief in his eyes, though, there was an almost impressed sound somewhere in the back of his throat as he spoke.

Carewyn’s blue eyes softened slightly. “It’s certainly not where I imagined myself ending up.”

The traces of a smile on Orion’s face faded.

“...Nor I.”

His gaze again fell to his own hands as they wrapped her right hand in bandages that bit more gently.

“I never would’ve thought I’d find you here either. A captain of the Navy -- a soldier, surviving a War and then being forced to serve the will of the East India Company...”

His dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, but they seemed sadder rather than angry.

“...It’s no proper fate, for a woman with so kind and free of a heart as yours.”

Carewyn felt like her heart was being squeezed. “Orion...”

She shifted forward and almost made to get off the bed, but Orion quickly knotted the bandage on her hand and clutched it between both of his. He raised his head to look her in the eye.

“I can’t act like I knew, or even thought seriously, that our stars would align again...but even with that...I’d imagined a life much better than this for you.”

Carewyn’s eyes grew a little smaller upon his face.

“...You thought of me?”

Something flickered at the back of Orion’s eyes -- was it uncertainty? His gaze flitted back down to their hands.

“...Yes,” he murmured. “Not...constantly, but...the memory of your voice was very soothing, on the most restless nights at sea.”

Carewyn stared down at Orion. The faint shyness in his expression, for the first time, made him suddenly look just like that boy again -- the bruised, scared, trembling boy she’d tended to and sang to sleep...

“I suppose...that was what I’d imagined, mostly,” said Orion, his voice lower than ever as he looked up at her again. “That you’d have married a man who you’d look after and sing for.”

Carewyn couldn’t completely fight back an amused snort. “As I said, the only marriage proposal I’ve been faced with was to Juliette Farrier...and I would never deprive Bill of his lady fair.”

Orion blinked at how wide her grin was while saying this. Then his expression softened.

“...A good reason not to accept it, then.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. Carewyn’s eyes went down to their hands again too as she brought her left hand up to hold Orion’s right, so that they were now both holding each other’s hands.

“...I thought of you too, you know,” she said gently.

Orion looked startled; her lips spread in a soft smile as she kept her gaze downcast.

“As you said, it wasn’t constant or anything...but for whatever reason, you kept appearing in my dreams, at random times. Sometimes right before a battle, or on Jacob’s birthday...but for whatever reason, you just kept appearing. I don’t know...maybe I just subconsciously never stopped wondering what had happened to you...”

For a moment, Orion didn’t speak. His hands holding hers tentatively adjusted their grip around hers, almost as if he wanted to squeeze them, but didn’t for fear of hurting her.

“...Carewyn...”

His voice was so quiet and misty, and yet, there was something rippling in the back of it -- like a shadow moving behind fog...

Rap, rap, rap.

Both Carewyn and Orion stiffened at the sound of a knock on the cabin door. They immediately let go of each other’s hands and Orion shot to his feet as the door opened and McNully rolled his chair into the doorway.

“Captain,” he said, “Tortuga is within view.”

He glanced from Orion to Carewyn as she put down her rolled up sleeves and then reached for her blue Navy coat and pulled it back on.

“Thank you, McNully,” said Orion levelly, as he slipped his own long olive suede coat back on, fluffing the collar.

His face twisted in confusion, McNully rolled up next to his Captain, shooting both Orion and Carewyn a very pointed “side-eye.”

“According to my calculations, there’s a 98.7% chance that I’m missing something,” he muttered to Orion very coolly.

Orion gave him a patient smile. “Don’t worry -- it’s nothing that consequential.”

His eyes drifted over his shoulder in Carewyn’s direction. She’d finished buttoning up her coat and looked every bit the “Naval officer” again. Even when she faced him and spoke, she again sounded like she had when she’d first arrived on board.

“Is Tortuga to be where I’m deposited, Captain?” she said very coolly, folding her arms behind her and lightly puffing out her chest in typical soldier fashion. “I suppose I should be glad it’s not on a barren isle with a jug of water and a pistol with one shot.”

Orion raised his eyebrows amusedly. “I believe the barren isle would be a better place for you to end up than Tortuga, Captain. Fortunately my crew only has need of supplies, before we settle on where to drop you off -- I appreciate your patience.”

“What shall we do with him, while we’re getting supplies?” McNully whispered to Orion. “You don’t intend to leave him here in your cabin alone?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Orion airily. “He is our guest, is he not?”

“Orion.”

McNully’s voice had hardened noticeably.

“I see those cut ropes,” he muttered. “I see your decorative swords on the floor, stained with blood. I see the Captain’s hands are bandaged. It’s clear he tried to escape, and I’d say there’s a 86.3% chance he’ll try to do it again...unless there’s something you know that I don’t.”

Orion didn’t respond. He distracted himself by putting the decorative swords back on the wall.

Carewyn glanced from Orion’s back to his first mate. Even if his face was so hard, she could tell it was due to confusion and concern, not genuine anger or resentment.

‘Orion said I’d found a family,’ she thought to herself. ‘It seems he’s found one too...’

“Orion.”

Both Orion and McNully looked surprised when Carewyn spoke. Her voice was its usual youthful-boy-sounding pitch, but it was much less cold and distrustful than it had been.

“Go ahead and tell him,” she said solemnly.

Orion immediately put down the second of the two swords on a nearby dresser and turned around.

“What?”

“He’s your comrade-in-arms. He deserves to know.”

Orion looked oddly hesitant. Carewyn could tell he wasn’t sure how much to say -- after all, she did have multiple secrets. Not just the fact that they knew each other and that she’d hidden him from the Navy back in the day, but her ancestry...her real gender...

She swallowed back her fear and unease, putting forward the bravest face she could.

“If you trust this man...then it’s okay.”

She glanced at McNully. The first mate looked more confused than ever, and yet his face seemed less suspicious toward Carewyn than it had been, like he was starting to wonder if he’d misjudged her.

Orion stared at Carewyn for a very long moment, his dark eyes running over her face with an unreadable glint. Then, taking a deep breath, he nodded.

“McNully...I’d like you to meet Carewyn Cromwell.”

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 4

I wrote this all in one go last night, and I think it came together pretty good! So y’all get a lil two-fer today. This chapter is mostly dialogue, which is probably my specialty! Lemme know whatcha think. 

1900 words, rated T for drinking I guess, NingXian, modern au, first date, momentary angst but it’s resolved really quick!

Enjoy~!

“Thank you! We’re The Whatevers! We have stickers and T-shirts at the merch counter. Have a great night!” Wuxian waved as he and his bandmates gathered their things and left the stage. Their set was short, but it was easily the most exciting thing Qionglin had seen in … well, ever, probably. The host in the strappy dress came back, and thanked The Whatevers, chatting to fill time while the next band set up.

“Hey!” Wuxian suddenly appeared at his side. He’d shed his leather jacket, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Hey!” Qionglin parroted back, hopping to his feet. “That was amazing! You really are a rockstar!” Wuxian had put on heeled boots for the show, and now towered a few inches over him. Qionglin had to tip his head further back to meet his eyes.

Wuxian laughed breezily. “Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot.”

“Of course! I um, I really like your s-singing. And the lyrics were really poetic and moving, but still cool and exciting! I-- I haven’t heard a lot of music like that before.” 

“Oh, gosh, thanks!” Wuxian gushed. “I didn’t know anyone actually listened to the lyrics, heh…”

“You asked me to,” Qionglin explained. “But I think I would’ve noticed them anyway, they’re…” He searched for the right word. “Beautiful.” 

Wuxian didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at him intensely. Qionglin shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Wuxian eventually asked.

“Uh, out? Where?” Qionglin forced himself to look back at him, but his expression was still so piercing. Qionglin bit his lower lip, and his stomach flipped over when Wuxian’s gaze flicked downward. 

His face finally softened, a slight smile curling his lips. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Qionglin followed him back through the greenroom, and out of the club. They walked a few blocks, to a quiet bar called the Lilypad. It was decorated in blues and greens and purples, live plants overflowing from handmade ceramic pots. Soft, traditional Chinese music lilted through the air.

“Wow,” Qionglin remarked. “This place is cute! Kind of a 180 from the Devil’s Den, huh?”

“Mhm!” Wuxian agreed. “It’s an old favorite. My dad took my brother and me here for our first drinks when we turned 18.”

They took their seats across from each other at a small round table. Brightly colored fish swam in an aquarium next to them. Wuxian perused the drink menu. They had a beautiful view of the river, glinting faintly in the twilight.

“What’s good here?” Qionglin wondered aloud. “This probably isn’t surprising, but I don’t drink very often. Pretty much just on holidays at family dinners or whatever.”

“Hmm… do you trust me?” Wuxian asked, peering over the menu, one eyebrow raised.

Qionglin looked at him, confused. “Yes…?” 

“Good!” Wuxian said decisively, tapping the side of his nose. “Wait right here.” And he whisked away.

“Okay…” Qionglin waited obediently. A couple of minutes later, Wuxian reappeared with two glasses of pale golden wine.

“This is one of the best things you’ll ever taste,” he promised, setting one glass in front of Qionglin. 

Qionglin raised his eyebrows. “Not what I was expecting…” he began, lifting the glass and sniffing curiously. The wine smelled of lotus blossoms and ripe plums. He took a tentative sip. The golden liquor warmed his lips, but didn’t burn as it slid down his throat. Its sweet aroma reminded him of summertime. “It’s delicious!”

“Right?” Wuxian effused. “It’s called Hefeng. It’s a specialty from my hometown. Also, I lied. It’s the second best thing you’ll ever taste. The first one is harder to find up here.” He drank happily from his glass, smiling fondly.

“Oh? What’s the first one?” 

“It’s called Emperor’s Smile. They only make it in Suzhou, though, and the vineyard that makes it doesn’t distribute it. Something about how it doesn’t taste right outside of Suzhou, I dunno. Sounds like bullshit to me, but it’s damn good wine.” He sighed wistfully. “If I get a bottle, I’ll save you a glass.” 

Qionglin felt heat rising to his face, and tried to hide it behind his wine glass. He took a long sip. 

“Pace yourself,” Wuxian warned. “It’s stronger than it tastes.” 

Indeed it was. Less than a quarter-hour later, Qionglin’s glass was empty and he was feeling quite buzzed. Oops, he thought faintly. Oh well!

“So tell me about yourself,” Wuxian prompted. He swirled the wine in his glass; he was on his second cup, but seemed thus far unaffected.

“Oof,” Qionglin muttered. “What’s there to tell? I’m … Just a farmer, I guess. I like plants and animals. I like to cook. That’s kind of it.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly the most interesting guy around. I’m probably pretty boring, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Wuxian chided. “If you were boring, we wouldn’t be here. Tell me about farming! How’d you get into that?”

Qionglin blinked. No one had ever asked. “Well, it’s a family thing. The farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years. My cousins and I are starting to take over the bulk of the work from our aunties and granny.” 

“What about your folks? What do they do?” 

“Oh… Um… They were doctors.”

“On the farm?”

“N-no, I mean… before they died.” Awkwardly, Qionglin glanced out the window. It was dark out now, but he could see city lights twinkling across the water.

“What? No way!” Wuxian blurted out.

“Uh… It’s not exactly unheard of…” Qionglin picked at his paper napkin.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wuxian corrected. “I um. Lost my parents too. When I was really little.”

“Oh.” Qionglin looked back at him and offered an apologetic smile. “What a thing to have in common, huh? But I thought you mentioned your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, I was adopted. I was in the foster system for a few years, then a friend of my father’s found me and took me in. He’s been very kind to me. His kids are like my real siblings.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a big sister!” Qionglin said, already forgetting the maudlin turn their conversation had taken. “Her name is Qing and she’s the coolest. She’s in medical school here in the city. What are your siblings like?” 

Wuxian smiled warmly. “I have a big sister too. She’s probably my favorite person ever. Her name’s Yanli, she’s a pastry chef. My brother, Wanyin, is… he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an acquired taste. In other words, he’s a total dickhead, but I love him anyway!” His laughter was almost as beautiful as his singing.

Qionglin couldn’t help but laugh too. “They sound great,” he mused.

“Yeah…” Wuxian sighed. “Even my boyfriend likes them, and he doesn’t like anyone!”

Qionglin’s heart dropped like a stone. “... your what…?” He whispered, praying he’d heard wrong. Involuntarily, his hands curled into fists in his lap.

Wuxian blanched. “My-- my boyfriend? Don’t tell me-- did I never mention him?”

“No. You didn’t.” Qionglin said shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naive. He must’ve misread his kindness and openness as flirting, and like a fool, fell for it. Maybe Wuxian was just like this to everyone he met. He felt hot from the inside out, like his bones had turned to molten lead. His skin prickled, and his breath hitched like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I should go.” He stood abruptly, slapped a stack of small bills on the table, more than enough for one glass of wine, and hurried out of the bar. 

The shock sobered him up instantly. He walked briskly down the street, vision blurred with tears. He hoped he was walking back to his car, but the streets all looked the same, especially in the dark. Stupid! Of course he already has someone! Why would he ever waste his time on me? He roughly swiped the tears away with his shirtsleeves. Just my fucking luck, isn’t it? The first time I ever like someone and it goes like this. So much for new beginnings and taking chances, huh?

“Wait--!” Wuxian fumbled for his wallet, paid quickly and ran after him. “Qionglin! Wait, I can explain!” 

Qionglin walked faster and tried to ignore him, but he caught up easily and cut him off. Qionglin took a shaky breath. “Explain what?” He spat, refusing to look at him. “I … I thought you… ugh, never mind.” Words rarely came easily, but it was even harder to speak when he was so worked up. “God I’m an idiot…” he muttered.

“No, you’re not--! I didn’t mean to… to lead you on or anything. I-- my boyfriend and I-- we’re open. I’m polyamorous.”

Qionglin blinked a few times. He’d heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he understood. 

“It means I sometimes have feelings for more than one person.” Wuxian explained. “My boyfriend, Wangji -- he doesn’t feel the same way, but he understands that I do, we have an agreement and everything. I-- I swear I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I really just forgot I hadn’t already told you.” Qionglin still avoided looking at him, but his tone was gentle and sincere. 

Qionglin sniffed. “S-- so what?” 

“So… Can I have a do-over? A new first date, a proper one. A-anything you want to do! I know I don’t deserve it… but I like you. Will you let me try again?” Slowly, shyly, he reached for Qionglin’s hand. Qionglin flinched but didn’t pull away, letting Wuxian gently prise his fingers apart and twine them together. 

Qionglin’s head was spinning. Suddenly he felt tipsy again. “S-so…” he repeated slowly. “You do like me…?”

Wuxian chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do.” With his free hand he reached up and delicately dabbed the tears from the corners of Qionglin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I upset you like that. That was my fault.” For someone so carefree and vivacious, he could be surprisingly mature when he wanted to be. “I won’t do it again.”

Qionglin swallowed hard. “Okay…” he whispered.

Wuxian stepped even closer. Their chests were nearly touching. “Okay? You mean it?” He asked hopefully.

Qionglin nodded. He looked up at Wuxian finally, and managed a shy smile. Wuxian pulled Qionglin into his arms, squeezing tightly. Qionglin wondered when was the last time anyone hugged him like this. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Wuxian’s waist, leaning into the embrace and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He was still reeling a bit from the emotional whiplash, but Wuxian’s arms were warm, strong, and grounding. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing evened out. "So a do-over, huh? A proper… date?" He said, voice muffled in the collar of Wuxian's jacket.

Wuxian finally let go and stepped back, hands still lingering on Qionglin’s own. “Yes! Let me know what you want to do. Say the word and we’ll go, okay?” 

Qionglin thought for a moment, humming and tipping his head to the side. 

“You don’t have to think of it right now!” Wuxian clarified. “You can just text me when you decide.”

Qionglin shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it. Let’s go to the zoo. I'm… free tomorrow! Or next Saturday. Every Saturday, actually…"

Wuxian smiled that sunshine smile. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

[rosmarinys]

touch like a balm

dedicated to @panesars bc she’s lovely and helped me out with this and is also lovely love u dear. also this is a pushing daisies au yes agshsjsjs

"So, I bring can bring back the dead, but I also run a bakery, and I feel like the latter should get more attention, if I'm completely honest."

//

or the one where Ash runs a bakery, Dotty is trying to be the world's greatest private eye by cheating, and Iqra just wants to know what's going on.

read on ao3

chapter one – love like a wound, love like forgiveness

 Ash’s shit day goes like this: Dotty gets her another job, Keegan pesters her about bills, Callum and Bobby break a plate and Iqra dies.

It’s a lot.

//

 “Bills for you,” Keegan greets, leaning against the doorway to his office.

“You know, when I made you the manager, it’s because I didn’t want to deal with any of the managing part of the bakery,” Ash says, tying an apron around her waist. It’s so early in the morning that she doesn’t even want to know the exact time and she can still feel the imprint of her bed beneath her back, and she knows better than to close her eyes for more than a second after the last time she fell asleep standing up, elbow deep in dough.

Keegan snorts. “And yet we are partners, so I need your thoughts on what exactly we need for the next stock.”

Ash sighs but nods and runs their stock through her sleep-riddled mind. “Um, we’re running low on raspberries I’m sure. Strawberries, definitely, we’re down to the last ones today and I’ve been making less strawberry pies because of it. I had to give Dotty a cranberry pie yesterday and she threatened to never come back again.”

Keegan doesn’t look up from the list he’s making but he snorts. “Oh, how grateful we would all be for that. She re-organised all of my files last week, did I tell you?”

Ash chuckles. “No, you didn’t. What exactly did she do?”

Keegan does look up now, pad of paper and pen tucking underneath his arms as he crosses them as a frown flits across his face. “I had everything how I wanted it, everything was filed in terms of likability –”

Ash laughs, pausing in her weighing of flour in order to clap her hands before clasping them over her mouth. “You’re kidding. I thought you were joking when you said you were gonna file everything like that! Keegan!”

Keegan gestures wildly, a reluctant grin stretching his lips. “It works, ok? Or worked. Like, Ian is at the back of my third filing cabinet because he’s a Tory, and I remember that, I remember putting it there and thinking, fuck you. It was a good system!”

Ash giggles, absolutely delighted, and Keegan bites down his bottom lip to try and stop his own laughter. “Ok, ok. So how is organised now that Dotty has ruined everything?”

Keegan rolls his eyes and says with as much venom as he can muster, “Alphabetically.”

Ash laughs louder this time, her head shaking from side to side. “Ridiculous,” she grins. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“But, that’s not all! She left a note on my desk with a charge for her ‘services’,” Keegan throws his hands up for air quotes, only making Ash giggle harder.

“Well, did you pay her?” Ash asks, picking up her flour again.

There is a pause.

“…Yes,” Keegan grumbles and Ash can’t help chuckling to herself, pulling a bowl of the last strawberries closer. “This is mutinous. You’re showing blatant favouritism to someone outside this partnership. I’m pretty sure I could sue based on that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ash says and flicks flour at Keegan, watching Keegan duck to dodge getting any stains on his suit, setting her off giggling again.

Keegan turns to go back into his office, after a long death glare which Ash replied with a sarcastic blown kiss, but instead does a full circle to face Ash again. “Oh, meant to say, Chantelle and Gray vow renewals are next week, if you wanna come?”

“Oh, I- I thought that’d be a family event,” Ash replies, carefully, fingers frozen over a rotten berry.

Keegan doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Yes.”

Ash smiles at him. “I’d love to,” she says and watches Keegan smile back at her, his face like the setting sun.

He leaves and Ash touches the berry and watches it turn a glossy red, alive again like the rot had never existed.

 //

 This is how it is: Keegan has known Ash the longest. She remembers purple crayons and standing on stools with flour all over their face and staining their clothes while they watched Karen baked, babbling in a way that only seven-year olds can as Karen listened attentively.

They are all fuzzy memories, as though she is viewing them through rose-coloured glass, but she cherishes them all the same, cradles them in her heart like old relics of times when she felt sturdier on her two feet.

Some memories are clearer: her and Keegan, crouched over dead flies, a swatter in his hand and a stopwatch in her’s, her reaching out and touching one of the bugs and them watching in wonderment as it comes back to life, her finger pressing the stopwatch, timing how long she can do this, how long she can reanimate the dead. A minute later, a dragonfly dropped from the sky in front of them and Ash had turned to Keegan with wide eyes.

“This is-” Keegan said, face bright with child-like wonder, “Ash, you’re like a comic book character!”

She had grinned and they’d both ran inside his house, shouting happily to Karen that they had something cool to show her.

(Later, Karen would sit them both down and make them promise not to say anything about what Ash could do, that this had to be a secret between the three of them, and didn’t all superheroes keep their powers a secret, anyway? Just look at Superman, eh? Even later, Suki would scrub flour from Ash’s skin, and snipe about how she had ruined her clothes, tutting about how Ash couldn’t enjoy a cleaner hobby, like reading, just like she did when she was a girl.

But, for only a moment, there was only pounding feet, a rush of air in their lungs and their hands clasped together.)

 //

 “Got a job for you,” Dotty greets, tossing a folded sheet of paper onto the counter, not an hour after Keegan disappeared back into his office.

“You know, we invented the word ‘hello’,” Ash replies, exasperated with the company she keeps, not looking up from the dough in front of her. It’s sticking to her fingers and she reaches for more flour.

“Hello, I’ve got a job for you,” Dotty deadpans and Ash grins as she starts kneading.

“Bit busy here, what’s the job exactly?” Ash asks, gesturing with her bag of flour to demonstrate her point. Dotty scowls and picks up the sheet of paper.

“Middle-aged man turned up dead in the Thames, shot to death,” Dotty summarises, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Ash whistles and Dotty nods. “Exactly. Drama. And where there’s drama, there’s money.” She grins.

“My condolences to his grieving family of course,” Ash adds, giving Dotty a pointed look.

“Of course,” Dotty parrots. “His grieving, twenty-grand-paying family.” Ash raises her eyebrows, Dotty grins wider. “Drama,” she repeats.

“Well then, sounds eventful. Any witnesses?”

“Nope.”

Ash sighs. “Ah, never is. That’d be too easy, huh?”

Dotty waves a hand in front of her. “We don’t need easy. We have you and you’re – y’know,” she wriggles her fingers, spookily.

“Stop that,” Ash says, considering throwing a berry at her as she starts to fold her dough into a tin. “Also, did you re-arrange Keeagan’s files?”

“Yup,” Dotty replies, popping the ‘p’. “They were a mess and I refuse to let the company I keep be sub-par.”

“Right,” Ash chuckles. “And it has nothing to do with Keegan finding you your perfect office?”

“Yes,” Dotty replies, instantly. “And, also, I made him pay for my organisation, so. It’s not, a thank you or whatever.” Ash hums, unconvinced and Dotty scowls and turns her head to the side, staring at all the cutlery and plates stacked on one of the counters, her face flushing pink.

Ash takes pity on her and changes the subject. Dotty’s shoulders are getting too tense beneath that big woolly jacket she wears, the one that is several sizes too long so that it dwarves her frame, and Ash would rather be able to choose the music on their ride to the morgue. “Well, we can meet once The Pie Hole shuts at six, and head to the morgue, then?”

Dotty frowns and crosses her arms, face still a pale pink but Ash pretends not to notice.. “How come your bakery is more important than my detective business?”

“Because you can solve crimes without me, The Pie Hole can’t bake pies without me.”

“Then that just shows that you have a bad business model, doesn’t it?” Dotty smiles sweetly and Ash flicks some flour at her as well and watches Dotty duck the exact same way as Keegan did.

With a dirty look, Dotty heads towards the entrance. Ash doesn’t ask how Dotty got in considering the front door was locked and it’s five in the morning, simply assuming the answer is something that she can sleep better at night not knowing.

Ash goes back to kneading her dough and thinks about twenty grand and dead men.

 //

  This is how it is: Ash has powers. Well, a power. She can bring the dead back to life. There are rules and Ash spent most of her childhood figuring this out. One touch brings something back to life. Second touch, dead, forever. If someone is brought back for more than a minute, then something else dies, the balance of life and all that.

She uses it often now (in a way that some may view as cheating in the Private Eye business, but Dotty simply views as using the gifts given to you for good, though mostly money) but she remembers trying not to use it during her teenage years. She had felt like a god of death, the balance of deciding who should live and die a heavy weight on her shoulders but then –

(car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

there are always exceptions to be made.

 //

 There’s a loud crash in the sitting area and Ash sighs from the kitchen as she pulls a raspberry pie out of the oven.

“Sorry!” Bobby and Callum call and she sees them crouched over what used to be a plate when she comes through with a broom.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourselves,” Ash says, shooing them away and starts brushing up the mess.

“Sorry, Ash,” Bobby says, eyes wide and sad. “Callum was trying to get up and I bumped into him, you can take it out of my wages –”

“It was just as much my fault, I wasn’t paying attention, I’ll pay for it,” Callum interrupts, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s no one’s fault, it was an accident,” Ash says, gesturing to the now clear floor, the smashed plate all in her dustpan. “See? No harm done.” She can see them physically holding back from insisting again when she raises her eyebrow at them. “Well? Scatter.” She waves her broom at them mock-threateningly and watches Bobby smile weakly and turn to serve another customer whereas Callum lingers for a second. “Something up?”

Callum blinks. “Oh – sorry, it’s nothing, I just –” He sighs and sits back down in his stool at the front counter. Ash circles behind it to put the smashed plate in the bin and braces herself on the counter in front of him. He smiles at her weakly. “I have my job interview today and I’m scared I’m gonna screw it up.”

“Ah,” Ash says, nodding in understanding. “Well, listen, I’ve never met someone more qualified to be a paramedic, ok? So, just, deep breaths and trust yourself.”

Callum smiles at her. “Thanks, Ash. You’re a good friend.”

Ash smiles in return. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just speaking the truth, here. Also, you’ve saved me more than once. Nutmeg in my rhubarb pies? You really saved me with that.”

Callum chuckles bashfully and it’s a warm sound. “I-Well, it’s nothing. My mother, she-she made them like that.” He turns his head to the side, his fingers tapping restlessly on the counter.

“Well, she was a smart woman,” Ash says, expression soft when Callum glances over at her.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, she was.” They stay there, quietly, for a moment then he smiles at her again just before he leaves and when she looks down, she sees he’s left a five pound note on the counter, doubtless for the broken plate.

Ash smiles as she picks it up, already planning on giving Callum his next slice of pie for free.

 //

 This is how it is: Callum is a regular at The Pie Hole, his smile a constant companion to Ash whenever she places her pies in their display shelves, ready to be served.

He always orders a slice of apple pie and never leaves a tip less than three pounds, sometimes he leaves behind a napkin with a doodle on them of a dog on a skateboard and blushed down his neck when she’d asked about it, revealing that the dog was the main character in a comic he had made for his nephew.

(Ash had once forgotten her apron at The Pie Hole, and when she’d returned to get it in the small hours of the morning, she’d found Callum sat outside in the rain, his clothes soaked to his skin, clutching a baby’s blanket in his hands.

He’d stared at her blankly when she tried to speak to him but he went willingly when she dragged him into her bakery and sat him in a booth. She’d forced his hands around a warm cup of coffee in order to warm them up, but his grip was lax and so they sat with her hands cupped around his.

His skin had felt like ice and he only spoke once to murmur his nephew’s name before falling silent again and Ash had felt her heart in her chest splinter.

What was the point of having this power if she can’t save her friends from grief?

Callum doesn’t draw on the napkins anymore but he leaves bigger tips.)

  //

 The man on the table is dead, purple bruises stark against the placid white his skin has become. There are multiple holes in his chest. Ash checks the tag around his toe to avoid looking inside his grotesque wounds. Jack Branning, it reads. The name sounds familiar, but Ash can’t quite remember why. A horrid thought occurs to her, one where she might have once served this man at her bakery, might have known him when he was alive and now all she will remember is how he looked dead. It leaves goosepimples on her arms, even underneath her denim jacket.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, yeah?” Dotty says, folding her arms in front of her chest. There has been a time in which Dotty would have made comments and digs at the victims’ wounds but even she has tired of it, especially after one of the victims had been a girl who revealed she’d been stabbed to death by her father, something that had left her looking as white as the corpses surrounding them.

Ash glances at her watch and waits for hand to reach twelve before tapping Jack lightly on the shoulder. The result is immediate; Jack shoots up and stares at them in shock, eyes blinking too quickly and chest heaving with breaths he doesn’t need. He opens his mouth to speak, and no noise comes out, his hands reaching up for his throat, fingers pressing into the purple left on his skin.

Dotty groans. “Great, now we need to play twenty questions.” Ash can hear her rolling her eyes without having to turn around. This happens too often, sometimes the victim’s windpipe is so damaged that they can’t speak properly. Once, Dotty left after three cases in a row with strangulation involved and Ash heard her groaning and moaning the entire time it took her to leave the building.

“Was it a man or a woman?” Jack stares at her blankly, so Ash tries again. “Mr Branning, you were murdered. Was it a man or a woman who killed you?” He doesn’t answer, instead looking around the room, at all the other closed cases in the morgue. She wonders how jarring this must be for someone, she wonders if there actually is an after-life or if it feels like a second has passed between shutting your eyes and opening them again to two women making weird requests. This is not the time to think about such things though, so she tries a different question. “Jack? Where they young or older?”

He turns back and starts gesturing with his hands, miming writing something down. Ash hears Dotty scramble for her notebook and pen while Ash feels the clock tick tick ticking. There is one second left until the hand hits twelve again when Ash taps Jack on the shoulder again, his body collapsing into the table he’s on, his fingers bent over the notebook he’d scribbled onto.

“Well, let’s hope this is good, considering we’ve got fuck all else out of him,” Dotty mutters and reaches forward. Ash sees what’s written when Dotty brushes Jack’s fingers asides and takes her pen and notebook back.

One word. Mitchell.

 //

 This is how it is: Dotty is more wolf than girl, dressed in plaid pinafores or ripped jeans, always with that dark woolly coat thrown on, so big that you can only see the tips of her fingers poking out the sleeves. She kicks her feet lightly when she’s sitting down and bites her nails down to the quick and spins a thin ring around her pointer finger, all while grinning with teeth.

Dotty caught Ash one day, having just brought a stray cat back to life, and showed up at the front door of The Pie Hole the next morning with a glint in her eyes and a business proposition.

“Can you bring back people too?” She’d asked and Ash had only nodded. Her smile grew wider. “Well, I was just thinking about how much easier it would be to solve murders if the victims could up and sing, huh?”

(They’re a good team, Ash thinks. Dotty’s a neon light in your veins, a fast-paced race-track that stills beneath Ash’s fingers when she touches her, like a live-wire finally finding a fuse.

Dotty looks at her like that sometimes, when Ash calls her a friend, as if she’s just woken up, like she’s been dead this whole time and Ash brought her back with a simple word.

She falls asleep on Ash’s couch sometimes, drowning in that big coat, finger’s twitching on that ring, face soft with sleep.

Ash pulls her duvet into the living room and sleeps on the rug next to her, seized with the urge to not let Dotty be alone, even in her sleep.

Dotty’s never said anything about it, but she always lets Ash borrow her eyeliner the next day.)

 //

 The rain makes her skin feel numb, even under her clothes as they become soaked and stick to her. Ash wonders briefly if this is how Callum had felt, feeling out of his body, The Pie Hole sign a beacon glaring through the noise.

(It had been an inside joke, you know. The Pie Hole. Keegan had whispered it as a joke when they were ten and Ash had proposed they run a bakery like the one she had seen on holiday once, both of them curled up in sleeping bags on his living room floor.

It feels like a million years ago, memories of sliding around in socks and running down streets till the soles of her feet felt fuzzy, her lungs too big for her body.)

She’s not sure how much time passes, leaning up against the building across the road from her bakery, thinking about Keegan, and her mother, and bakeries, when –

there is a blare of light that illuminates a figure on the street, a silhouette, before a car crashes into it and the scream of the tires is so awful that Ash thinks she’s in the car herself (car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

She stays frozen before she throws herself forward on autopilot, barely processing that the car has sped away and left the silhouette on the road, folded in on itself, purely running on the sharp pain in her temples, the blood in her mouth, power buzzing beneath her skin, whispering you were born for this.

Ash turns them over and sees their face, blood trickling down the side of their head and coating their dark hair. She barely manages a gasp before her fingers touch the side of their face and sees their eyes snap open.

 //

 This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed, on her way home from work, crosses the road without looking up from a text from her sister, and gets hit by a car and dies on impact.

This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed wakes up a minute later, chest heaving and staring up at a blurry face that’s there and then gone. There is blood in her mouth and her bones feel like dust.

This is how it is: Ash Panesar is so fucking tired.

[squishysvt]

the waves aren’t that bad (my feelings for you are stronger)

Member: Renjun (NCT)

Word Count: 3.7k+

A/N a good old summer au for the soul also i’m fairly sure part of this ended up being like my last jun (svt) au Please don’t @ me i already know lmao -Admin Ay

        Water sprayed on your face as you stood against the rails of the boardwalk. There were a group of children running back and forth behind you with half of their ice cream cones dripping all over their shirts. You liked to sneak away from your home and watch as the boats moved in and out of the harbor.

Living in a lake town was really quiet in the winter. Houses on the shore were empty, the residents floated through the streets boredly, and the occasional dedicated fisherman sat on the docks with their hook in the water. Summer, when the sun obnoxiously beat on everyone’s skin, was when the town was as busy as Times Square. Well, at least you liked to think it was. You had never been.

Very often you would be able to spot the people who were in town for a vacation. They were louder, younger, and brighter amongst the residents who grew tired of seeing the same things every day. In technicality, yes you were also a lifelong resident, but in your heart you were just like the fresh faced tourists that drifted through annually.

“Honey–”

You jolted in your spot at the sound of the voice behind you. Knowing exactly who it was, you winced as you turned around to face your mother.

“Jesus kid, how many times do I have to tell you about being so close to the lake? It isn’t safe!”

Your groaned as your mother yanked you away, her grip paralleled with that of a bear’s. Part of you wanted to whine about how overbearing you mom was being, but you also understood it.

Your dad had died in the water. His boat too small and too far from the shore on such a stormy night. So rather than complaining whenever you were denied permission to go play in the deep water with friends, you would listen and find something to do by yourself.

“Hey, Mom? Could you at least let me go?”

Steps faltering, she did as requested and rubbed her hands on her pants. Your mother cleared her throat before speaking again.

“Go stop by the corner store before coming home, alright? We need more juice and and eggs.”

You sighed and nodded, splitting from your mother. You decided to go ahead and run the errand as you had nothing else to do. A loose rock on the ground kept you entertained throughout your journey as you kicked it, not having to pay much attention to your direction. You knew the town like the back of your hand.

Getting to the shop did not take long, with it being located two blocks away from the boardwalk, just on the edge of the gated residents. It’s where all the rich people lived, or stayed rather, in their large lake houses during vacation. The area was beautiful from what you could decipher whenever you got curious enough to peek through the gates.

As you walked in you saw a boy looking quite exasperated as he dug in his pockets. The cashier, Donghyuck (you were familiar with him, he typically worked the day shift)(he might have also been in your class once? He tended to stay to himself), tapped his foot loudly against the floor.

Finally, the boy huffed and dropped his hands.

“Sorry, I’ll just take the milk then.”

You noticed the pack of gel pens that the boy also had placed on the counter. Donghyuck began to slide the pens away before you stepped in.

“How much are they?”

The boy jumped as you settled next to him. Donghyuck looked at you tiredly.

“10 bucks.”

The boy gasped, eyes wide as he looked at you.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to!”

You smiled, “Don’t worry about it. Its my good deed of the week.”

Donghyuck snorted at the conflicted look on the boy’s face.

“Just take it, man.”

You hummed as you slid a ten dollar bill from your pocket and handed it to Donghyuck.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” said the boy.

You rolled your eyes. Then, an idea made way into your head.

“How about you tell me your name and you can help me carry my groceries home?”

“Its Renjun,” the boy said, shy smile stuck on his face as he took his now paid for items and followed you to the produce section.

        You and Renjun fell into a comfortable rhythm as you talked. It wasn’t as if you were conversing about anything profound, just small talk. Unlike most small talk, filled with forced smiles and awkward pauses, it felt like you were catching up to an old friend. You learned that Renjun was only staying the summer with his aunt (she stayed in one of the fenced off lake houses) and that he liked to draw in his free time (hence the neat gel pens he were struggling to buy). Renjun learned that you lived with your mom in a condo above a flower shop (his eyes lit up at the fact).

Time flew, and before the both of you knew it, you were standing right in front of the said flower shop. Renjun began to turn around, but you couldn’t help that you wanted to stay with him longer.

“I guess I’ll just–”

“Uhm, do you want to come inside?”

Even to your own ears you sounded terribly desperate. Despite that, Renjun grinned.

“Sure, I mean,” he frowned, “is that okay? With your mom?”

You nodded, “Don’t worry about it.”

Your mother being fine with Renjun would be an understatement. She was quite charmed with how polite he was. She even had the gall to wink at you (very conspicuously, may you add) when you recounted the events that led to you becoming friends.

Your mother giggled at one of Renjun’s stories about his friends back at his home town. Then, she shot up at the sound of her phone alarm dinging.

“Ah, I have to pull my lasagna out the oven.” she scurried into the kitchen area.

Renjun leaned towards you, making eye contact. He mouthed the words “I love your mom,” causing you to snicker. Your mother placed the lasagna on the kitchen island and started decorating the countertop with other food items.

“Hey, sweetie, ask Renjun if he wants to stay for dinner!”

You rolled your eyes, as if Renjun couldn’t hear her.

Said boy glanced out the window and gasped. The sun was starting to set on the horizon. You caught on and placed a reassuring hand on Renjun’s shoulder.

“Actually, Mom, I don’t think he can. He was probably supposed to bring his milk home a long time ago.”

Renjun gasped again, “I totally forgot about the milk.”

Your mother laughed at that.

“That’s fine! I’d love to have you over another night, though.”

You looked at Renjun hopefully, and he smiled back at you.

“Of course, thank you for having me over!”

You stood up, making your way towards the door, “I’ll walk you out.”

You watched as Renjun gathered his things and shuffled your way. Once out of the building you both could hear your mother yelling from out the window.

“Come by whenever you want, young man!”

Your mother’s enthusiasm cracked him up, and the sound made you feel giddy. When he finally calmed down, Renjun cleared his throat and started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. You tapped your foot, trying to think of something to say.

“If you don’t have anything to do, you can come over tomorrow and hang around the shop.” You said, ending more on a question.

“Definitely.” Renjun said.

You didn’t notice the tightness in your chest until it was gone. With that, Renjun waved and finally left. He vanished around a street corner, and the remnants of his shadow followed.

        The next day, you were awoken by the sound of your phone dinging. You groaned and grabbed for the device. The screen said that it was five past noon, which caused you to groan again. Getting your sleep schedule back in check will be a pain.

Still sleepy, it took you a second to find out what was the cause of the noise that woke you up. It was Renjun, causing your eyes to open a little wider. He had sent a string of nervous messages; they asked when he should come over and apologized if he had woken you up. You chuckled before a yawn overcame you. So he was an early riser? For some reason that didn’t surprise you.

Eventually, you managed to get dressed and come down stairs into the flower shop. You jump as the first thing you see is Renjun tripping through the door, your mother rearing behind him.

“Look who I found out and about!” She chirped.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help the goofy smile growing on your face. Renjun walked towards you hand held up, and you appropriately responded to the gesture by high-fiving him.

“Sorry I didn’t text back, I just woke up a few minutes ago.” You had the sense to look embarrassed

Renjun shook his head, jabbing a thumb towards your mother’s direction, “Its cool, your mom told me all about it.”

By now your mother had snuck into the store’s back room, most likely to continue putting together a few bouquet orders. The sounds of foliage could be heard and you knew that was precisely what she was doing.

You made your way behind the cashier counter, putting on a beige apron with the words “Le Jardin d’Eden” scrawled on the front in blue. Renjun was glancing around the store; he seemed especially entranced by the orchids in the far corner. You pulled a stool next to you behind the counter and patted it loud enough to get Renjun’s attention. He got the message and sat next to you.

“So, what were you up to so early in the morning?”

“I guess you consider 9am early in the morning,” Renjun chuckled, “I wasn’t doing much. Just planning a few pieces for my portfolio.”

You parroted the word “portfolio” in curiosity.

Renjun cleared his throat and looked at his hands. “Yeah, I’m trying out for an arts school.”

“That’s so cool,” you nudged Renjun, causing him to look back up to you, “You should totally show me what you have so far.”

He smiled and let out a breath, “Totally.”

Then, a customer walked into the store accompanied by the bells on the door jingling. You got up to help, and when you finished with him a new customer walked in, and another. It seemed like a busy day, which was a bummer. You wanted to spend all your attention on Renjun. Every time you glimpsed at him he was drawing a new flower in the sketchbook that he, from what you know, conjured out of nowhere. Sometimes you met eyes with him and his mouth twitched at the corners. Attempts at smiles while his mind was concentrated on his art. He looked like a painting himself, but you blushed at the thought and continued to work.

        You fell against the door after turning the “open” sign to say “closed,” officially ending the working day. Your mother started sweeping the floors and Renjun disappeared into the back room a while ago to do something for her. He said he felt bad for doing nothing while you and your mother worked. You began to pick up cleaning supplies yourself until your mother waved her hand.

“Ah, no. Go accompany your friend, I got this.”

You rolled your eyes at your mother’s antics but internally thanked her as you approached Renjun in the back room. He was trying, and failing, to wrap a bow around a basket. He whispered what you could only guess to be swears under his breath as the bow turned out crooked.

“Do you want me to help?” You grinned at the way Renjun’s arms fell like weights to his sides.

Renjun let out a groan before answering in a whine, “Yes, please.”

You moved in front of the basket and untied the ribbon. Renjun leaned towards you to get a better view of your hands. You tried your best to ignore the way his breath was warm as it hit you. While walking Renjun through the steps it was hard to will the shake out of your voice, but you managed.

After what felt like forever, you finished tying the bow. Renjun’s brows furrowed, and for a second you thought you actually did worse than you thought until he spoke again.

“How did you manage to do that so easily?”

You laughed and shook your head.

“I said almost the same thing when my mom taught me. It just takes a couple of times until you get the feel for it.”

Renjun smiled, “I’m definitely gonna impress you with a cool bow next time I see you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

There was a lull in the conversation, but neither of you minded. You looked over Renjun’s shoulder as he worked in his sketchbook. He had a page full of flowers that were on display in Jardin d’Eden. Everything looked perfect to you, but Renjun would grunt and fill in another part of a large hydrangea in the corner of the paper.

        That’s how you spent the next weeks. Renjun would come to the shop and distract you while you worked. At least not deliberately. You just couldn’t help your eyes from drifting to him and whatever he did. Most times he’d be drawing, but sometimes he’d also be engaged in conversation with a customer or your mom.

Finally, Renjun took you to meet his aunt. She was just as friendly as Renjun when she spoke, but was otherwise distant as she left you and Renjun to your own devices. You both would often spend time together on the balcony of her house looking over the lake when you weren’t working.

Sometimes Renjun’s friends would video call while you were with him. They were all very friendly (and loud) and would make sure to explain inside jokes to you. Especially if they were at the cost of Renjun’s embarrassment. Often you would find yourself crouched on the floor, holding your stomach from the laughter. Jeno and Jaemin, you had noticed, were the ones most often poking fun at him.

One day, Jeno popped on screen, interrupting the deep conversation you were having with Jaemin about snacks.

“Injunnie! Have you taken (Y/N) onto the boat yet?” Jeno’s eyes blinked into the camera, them being the only part of his body you could see.

Renjun coughed, face flushing as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Not at all. Completely forgot auntie had it, actually.”

Another of Renjun’s friends, Chenle, shoved Jeno out of the way to be seen.

“What do you mean ‘forgot’? Didn’t you help your aunt repaint it the other day?”

You caught a glimpse of Jaemin behind Chenle, smirking as if he knew something. Renjun was too busy studying the lake to see you tilt your head in question. Then you remembered your mother.

“Its cool if he didn’t,” you shrugged, “My mom probably wouldn’t have let me anyway. She has a thing against the water.”

Renjun seemed to finally snap out of whatever he was thinking, as he whipped back towards you.

“You literally live in a lake town, why would she have anything against you being in a lake?”

You sighed and looked up to the sky. Stars shone, and you remembered one of many nights where you stayed out and tried to ignore your mother’s crying.

“You know how my dad was a fisherman? He died when I was little, drowned during a storm. My mom hasn’t let me swim in the lake or get on a boat since.”

Your father’s absence wasn’t something you felt often. You could barely remember him. More than anything, your disconnect to the incident was what bothered you the most. You swallowed down the weird feeling that you got from it and looked back down to Renjun. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could tell what he was thinking from the downturn of his lip and the hurt in his eyes.

“We’re sorry.” Jeno whispered, him along with Chenle and Jaemin mirroring the same look.

You smiled, “Don’t worry about it. If I’m honest, I’ve been wanting to rebel just a little and swim in the lake or something. I can’t remember the last time I did.”

“Then why don’t I take you?” Renjun blurted, then blushed. His eyes flickered to the side towards his phone screen before he looked back at you.

He took a deep breath and started again, “Why don’t I take you on my aunt’s boat?”

Jaemin leaned into the screen and somehow managed to whisper loudly as he spoke, “Sneak out when your mom’s asleep and can’t wonder where you are.”

The rest of the boys in the call grew mischievous smiles on their faces. You gulped.

“I mean, I’ve never–”  

“Of course you’ve never snuck out,” Chenle rolled his eyes and you held back the desire to frown, “There’s nothing to do there. You probably never wanted to.”

You finally did frown. You heard a smack from the phone and Chenle rocketed out of frame with a hiss.

Jeno looked at you apologetically, “Don’t take what Lele says seriously. We sneak out all the time to do stuff together, Renjun would too. You’re just a good kid.”

From there the conversation branched off. Renjun told you a story of how Jeno once actually stole candy from a baby. Everyone laughed, void for Jeno, who buried his face into Jaemin’s shoulder. Then your mother called, and it was time for you to leave.

Renjun walked you home. His hands fidgeted with the loops of his jeans the entire time. His nervous energy made you nervous. Before you knew it your home and the shop were in sight and you and Renjun hadn’t said a word to each other. That was, before Renjun cleared his throat, causing you to jump.

“You know, I wasn’t joking.”

You tilted your head, confused about what he was referring to.

“I mean, about taking you out on the boat. If–” he looked to the ground, “If you wanted.”

You tried to bite down the goofy grin you knew was trying to inch across your face. You lightly stepped on Renjun’s foot to make him look up at you.

“Honestly, I totally do.”

You didn’t realize Renjun’s hands were still moving until they stopped.

Renjun let out a breath, “Yeah?” his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you matched his softness, “I haven’t had my life-changing summer adventure yet.”

Renjun snorted as you turned to walk into the building. You’d deny the skip in your step as you made your way to your room.

        “Are you sure this is fine?” You couldn’t help from wringing your hands as you followed Renjun on the small path through the trees.

Renjun chuckled before turning around to you. It was hard to ignore how the lights of the fireflies twinkled in his eyes and the moonlight rested on his skin.

“I promise its fine,” he held his hand out to you, “to make you feel better.”

You had only known this boy for a few weeks, but all rationale initially flew through the window when you decided to sneak out in the middle of the night for the first time. So, you nodded and grabbed his hand as he lead you towards the dock. It didn’t take much time before you reached it. The water was placid and the only things that seemed to disturb its surface were the water striders gliding across and the occasional fish.

There alongside the dock, a sailboat bobbed in the water.

“This is your aunt’s?” you said.

Renjun only nodded at you before looking back at the boat. You stared at it as well. It was pretty, painted in a coral color with blue cursive letters on its side. You squinted to try and read what they said. Renjun kicked at a nearby rock and tugged on his hair.

“The Moomin,” he coughed, “My aunt, uh, she had me name it when I was little.”

You couldn’t help the teasing smile on your face, “That’s precious.”

“Please shut up before I push you into this water.”

Renjun continued grumbling under his breath, and the chokes resulting from holding back your laughter almost caused you to fall in all by yourself.

Renjun climbed into the boat first. You followed, easing your way on with Renjun’s help. The boat rocked from the movement of you both sitting down. You tensed, and both your hands shot out to stabilize yourself. Renjun sat right across from you. He touched his ankle to yours, and you eased. Your mouth still twitched in displeasure, for some reason he felt too far away.

The boat eventually stopped rocking, but your stomach still felt tingly. Renjun eyed you worriedly as you tugged at your hair. You couldn’t get your eyes to stop jumping from one thing to the other.

Renjun stood slowly and moved to sit next to you. Your breath hitched as the boat rocked again.

You shot Renjun an anxious glance, “Aren’t we supposed to be on opposite sides? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Renjun smiled, and suddenly it wasn’t so hard to breath.

“Its fine,” he took your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

You sighed and squeezed Renjun’s hand. He squeezed back.

“I’m going to be. I think.”

Renjun doesn’t speak after that. You look up at the sky and see the full moon shining bright. All the noises you hear are crickets and Renjun’s breathing beside you.

The warmth from Renjun’s hand spreads up your arms. Your stomach still feels tingly, but its different, and the thought that you could stay on the boat forever crosses your mind.

“Renjun?”

“Yeah?”

The words don’t make it out of your mouth but Renjun seemed to already know what you wanted to say, his lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes were shut, but you could still see Renjun in your head. Radiant, soft, like you were kissing the moon. You dreaded the sun rising again.

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 11

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Several days pass as the gang comes to terms with Micah’s betrayal to them. With what Charles had told them about what he had seen, it’s evident that after Micah’s plan to get Dutch out in the open to meet with Colm had failed, he went out to that train station to telegraph Milton. Once the agents arrived, Micah must’ve told them Dutch didn’t take the bait. Milton’s impatience apparently had gotten the better of him because he then decided to just raid the camp instead of going about contriving another plan to get Dutch away from everyone to arrest him.

During these days, Emmeline settles in more. She tries her best to do jobs around the camp at Shady Belle. Laundry, mending clothes, washing up, none of it is really new to her, anyway. Once the sun goes down, she starts to help Lenny in his pursuit to teach Sean how to read. The Irishman seems more inclined to listen to Emmeline than Lenny, so he actually makes progress.

“The... dog... j-j-“ he reads along as he points to the words on the page with his finger.

“Sound it out,” Emmeline says in support.

“J-um-p-ed. Jumped!” he calls out excitedly. “That fucker jumped !”

Emmeline and Lenny both laugh at his reaction.

“You’re doing good,” she comments. “See, you’re getting it down. You’ll be reading novels in no time.”

Karen, who is close by, decides to see what all the hubbub is about. “Who jumped?” she asks as she comes to stand by Sean.

He points to the illustration of the little puppy in the book that Lenny had borrowed from Jack. “The dog!” He follows the words with his finger again as he reads. “The dog jumped!”

“You can join us, Karen,” Lenny mentions. “If Sean can learn, you surely can, too.”

She thinks it over a minute. “If I learn to read, Mary Beth will be shoving those stories she writes in my face all the time askin’ if they’re any good.” She moves to sit down next to Sean. “But I guess I ain’t got nothin’ better to do right now.”

Soon enough, Abigail and Jack join in on the lessons, though Hosea has to be recruited to help out with the teaching. It helps to keep spirits high in this time of uncertainty. Arthur often sits next to Emmeline as she continues to help, though most of the time he’s sketching in his journal instead of helping out.

“Who taught you to read, Emmeline?” Abigail asks one of the days they’re all sitting around the fire.

“Both my parents loved books,” she answers. “They didn’t send me off to school, but they both taught me all they knew. Taught me to read and write. How to add numbers. Even had me read some history books, too. They wasn’t really educated, but they did their best.”

“Well you’re loads smarter than Arthur, here,” Sean calls out at Arthur’s expense. “How’d you manage to convince a sweet girl like that to be with you.”

Before Arthur can respond, Emmeline steps in to defend him. “He didn’t have to convince me. Arthur is sweet and kind. And he ain’t dumb. He’s taught me a lot.” She looks over to Arthur and smiles.

“Ain’t that sweet!” Sean razzes him further.

Karen slaps the back of the Irishman’s head. “He’s a better man than you, Sean.”

“Aw, you love me. Give us a kiss.” He leans into Karen, his lips puckered.

“I don’t love you, you pig!” Karen calls out, but everyone knows she’s not serious.

About a week after they had moved into Shady Belle, Arthur finds Dutch standing at the back of the property looking over the swamp.

“Whatcha doin’, Dutch?” he calls out as he approaches.

The older man doesn’t even turn around, though he does answer. “Watching the alligators,” he says with very little emotion in his voice.

Once Arthur comes to stand next to Dutch, he can see blood in the water and an alligator moving around underneath it. “They fighting or something?”

“I watched a boar walk over to the edge of the water,” Dutch starts, eyes still fixed on the swamp. “I watched as one of those gators silently swam up to it, the boar none the wiser. Only took but a few seconds and that gator had that boar in its mouth, dragging it in the water as its meal.”

“Shit,” is all Arthur can think to say.

Dutch lets out a sigh. “All this time, I thought I was the alligator. Turns out I’m the boar.”

Arthur could tell that Dutch hadn’t been taking Micah’s betrayal very well. He had shut himself in his room, barely talking to anybody, which isn’t normal for him. This is actually the first time Arthur had spoken to him in days.

“Now come on, Dutch,” Arthur replies gently. “You ain’t no boar. You’re a man. And men make mistakes on occasion. I know that more ‘n anyone.”

“I’ve been thinking about... him ,” Dutch says, refusing to use Micah’s name. “About everything he’s done. Everything he’s said.” He lets out a heavy breath and casts his gaze to the ground in front of him. “He played me, Arthur. Like a fiddle. Told me everything I wanted to hear. Then he tried to get me to turn on you.” He finally looks over to the younger man. “And John. And Hosea. I nearly fell for it.”

“But ya didn’t.”

“But I nearly did. And everything I’ve been working for would’ve been lost .” He lets out a sigh. “I’ve just been trying so hard ,” he brings his hands up and clenches them into fists in front of him, “to hold onto everything. To keep everyone together. Not to fall into the trap of this...” he waves his hands around, “ civilization .”

“I know, Dutch. We’re still here. We’re still with you.”

Dutch turns his body to face Arthur and places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “But for how long?” He doesn’t stay to get a response, instead, walking past him toward the house.

Just a little while later as almost everyone is eating their supper, Sean calls out, “Hey, English!” in Arthur’s direction. Bill is walking next to him, which can mean nothing good, most likely.

Arthur lets out a sigh, causing Emmeline to chuckle beside him. “Yes, Sean?” he replies, already exasperated.

“Me and Bill was ‘avin a drink at some saloon in San Denis when we hear these two blokes talkin’ about some train that’s s’pose ta be carryin’ a lot of gold. Apparently they gonna be movin’ money outta the bank fer some reason.”

“And...?” Arthur says after a pause.

Bill jumps in. “We rob it!”

Arthur just shakes his head. “I don’t think we should be doin’ nothin’ like that right now. All the heat that’s been on us... we need to lie low.”

“Don’t we need the money, though? To get to Tahiti?” Sean asks, parroting Dutch’s words.

“Right now we gotta focus on not getting nabbed by them Pinkertons,” Arthur explains. “Micah don’t know where we went to, but I’m bettin’ he’s told them agents that we’d head further east once they ran us outta Clemens Point. If we do something big, they’ll know it’s us and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find this place.” Arthur scratches at his beard as he thinks it over. “We need to do shit much more quiet than we have been. No train robberies. No banks or stagecoaches. Nothin’ like that. We send the women into the city to pickpocket some rich folk. Javier and whoever else can rob homesteads as long as it’s quiet. Me and Charles can hunt and sell the pelts. It won’t get us a heap load of money, but it’ll make us enough to keep surviving. For now, anyways.”

Since Dutch is continuing to lock himself away most of the time, there’s no one else giving the gang orders but Arthur and Hosea. They are both in agreement that the gang needs to lower their profile for the time being. Especially until Dutch gets back to his old self. Arthur hopes he’ll come out of it, sooner rather than later.

During this time, Emmeline and Arthur try to figure out what it means to be in a relationship together. She, of course, has no experiences of her own to draw off of. Arthur isn’t much better, though, only having one serious relationship in his life. There are some awkward moments, usually coming in the form of Arthur being teased every time someone catches him even so much as looking at Emmeline. She shrugs it off, but Arthur usually has to try to hide his blushing cheeks.

While he’s never been very comfortable with public displays of affection, he makes up for it in the privacy of their own room. He’s tentative for the first few nights, but with Emmeline’s assurance that she is fine with his advances, he gets more comfortable with her physically. Before too long, he comes to crave the intimacy that she provides. He had long since accepted that he would never have another woman in his life, but then Emmeline showed up and awakened parts of him that had been dormant.

One morning, Arthur and Emmeline are cuddled up together in the small bed in their second floor room. Arthur has been working hard lately, so he decides to sleep in a little today. As for Emmeline, her pregnancy has continued to take the energy out of her, so some extra time in bed doesn’t bother her any.

“You awake, Emma?” he whispers when she stirs a little from her position lying on his chest.

“Yeah,” she answers sleepily without lifting her head. “But I’m still tired. I might just fall back asleep.”

He kisses her crown. “Go on ahead. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Just a few minutes after she tries to fall back asleep, she’s overcome with a wave of nausea. Thankful that she decided to put her nightgown back on last night after she and Arthur were done with their “activities,” she runs out of their room to try to make it outside before the contents of her stomach could come up. Unfortunately, she just barely makes it out into the hallway before she starts to heave.

Abigail can hear the commotion from her room just a few feet away. She leaves Jack, still sleeping soundly, to see what’s going on. “Are you alright?” she asks Emmeline when she sees the mess at her feet.

Emmeline clears her throat and wipes her mouth. “I’m fine,” she says as she looks up to the other woman, unsure what else to say.

Arthur comes out of the room, having hastily put on his pants to cover himself. He shares a look with Abigail before he gently lays a hand on Emmeline’s back. “Why don’t you go back in and lay down,” he says to her. “I’ll clean this up.”

Abigail’s face suddenly lights up as she calls out, “You’re pregnant! I knew it!” She had her suspicions, but the fact that Emmeline had gotten sick and Arthur isn’t at all worried about it confirms what she had thought.

Both Arthur and Emmeline snap their heads to look at the other woman.

“Keep it down,” Arthur growls out.

Abigail lets out a scoff. “Ain’t nobody up here but Jack. And he could sleep through the end of the world. Even Dutch and Molly are out, for once.” She starts to vibrate with excitement despite Arthur glaring at her. “But it’s true, right?”

Emmeline smiles gently as she nods slightly. There’s no use in lying at this point.

Abigail can’t hold back the squeal of happiness as it leaves her mouth. The thought of having another child in the camp for Jack to play with swirls in her mind.

“Shh!” Arthur pats the air to try to calm her. “You can’t tell nobody, Abigail. Especially not the rest of the girls.”

“I wont.”

“Abigail?” John’s raspy voice rings out from the steps. “You alright up there? I heard you yell.” He starts to come up the stairs before she even answers.

Abigail runs over to meet her husband on the landing. “Emmeline’s with child!” she tells him immediately.

Arthur throws up his hands and rolls his eyes. “Abigail! I just told you not to tell no one!”

“John doesn’t count,” she replies as she leads John over to where the group stands.

“Is that sick?” he points to the pile a few feet away.

Abigail swats him on the chest. “Don’t worry about that! You’re gonna be an uncle!”

“Don’t tell nobody else,” Arthur asserts. “I mean it. Both of you.”

“Alright, alright.” Abigail turns to leave. “I’ll get a bucket to clean up that mess. Then we’re gonna talk all about this.”

John shakes his head and claps Arthur on the shoulder. “Looks like we’re more alike than I thought.”

Emmeline scrunches up her face in confusion at his comment. “What?”

“I knocked Abigail up with Jack on accident, too.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Shut up, Marston.”

She looks over to Arthur for a moment before turning back to John. “But you were happy, right?”

“Little Johnny Marston ran away. Like an idiot,” Arthur answers for him. “I won’t never do that.”

“I came back,” John defends himself.

“It only took four years for you to get your shit together to be somewhat of a father to the boy,” Arthur bites back sarcastically. He had always looked down at John for his decision to leave instead of accepting his role as a father. Now that he’s put himself in the same position with regards to an unexpected pregnancy, he’s focused on not repeating the younger man’s mistake.

Abigail reappears carrying a bucket and some rags. “Stop fighting, you two. You should be celebrating.”

“We ain’t ready to tell everyone just yet,” Emmeline comments. “So I think we’ll have to wait for any parties.”

“It’s your news to tell. But the second you do it, there’s certainly going to be a party.” Abigail bends down to start to clean the floor. “I suggest you nibble on some biscuits to settle your stomach, though. If you start getting sick all the time, people are gonna get curious and ask questions.”

Early one morning, Emmeline takes Abigail up on her advice. Once her stomach starts to roil, she sneaks out of bed quietly enough not to wake Arthur to head down to Pearson’s wagon in search for biscuits. The sun isn’t even up yet, so it takes her a few minutes in the dark to locate the small tin on the table.

After eating a few of the biscuits, she decides to head over to where Miss Susie is hitched at the edge of camp to visit with her for a moment.

“How ya doin’, girl?” she asks as she pats the horse on the neck.

Upon hearing a rustling behind her, she flips around just in time to see Kieran exiting his tent not far away from her.

“Miss Emmeline?” he croaks out, his voice still tinged with sleep.

“I’m sorry, Kieran. I didn’t mean to wake you. I honestly forgot your tent was over here.”

“That’s okay.” He moves to the other side of Miss Susie, petting her on the nose. “It ain’t too much before I’d get up anyway.”

“I need to thank you for taking such good care of her,” she says as she continues to stroke the horse’s coat. “I haven’t gotten the chance to take her out much lately.”

“She’s a real good horse. Very friendly. I must admit that she’s my favorite to ride out of all of them.”

She smiles. “Really?”

“Most of the other horses only accept one rider in the saddle. Miss Susie here don’t mind me taking her out at all.” He pats her neck. “I’ll get her a couple of carrots for a treat.”

He starts to move further away to where he keeps his supplies while Emmeline continues to pet her horse. Suddenly, there’s a scuffle and when she turns to look, she sees a man in a green vest grappling with Kieran, trying to pull him off into the woods.

“No!” she screams at the top of her lungs and instinctively runs toward the man that she realizes must be an O’Driscoll with what Arthur has told her about them. She doesn’t have any weapons on her and she’s only in her nightgown, but she doesn’t let that stop her from trying to help Kieran. Jumping on the O’Driscoll’s back, she forces one arm around his neck and tries to pull him away.

Unbeknownst to her, the O’Driscoll hadn’t arrived alone. His partner roughly grabs her by the shoulders and throws her off the first man and onto the ground hard. She’s stunned for a moment, but once a gunshot rings out, she comes to just in time to see the man on Kieran crumble to the ground.

With the O’Driscoll’s plan well and truly bungled by the surprise appearance of the raven haired woman, the remaining man can only think about making it out alive. He quickly pulls the woman in front of him up by the hair and holds her to his chest, using her as a shield.

“One move and she gets it,” he calls out to Bill, first and foremost, since he’s the only one close by with a gun. That’s not going to last for much longer, though. He can hear everyone else in the camp stirring at the noise. And with the sun starting to bathe the landscape with light, he no longer has the cover of darkness on his side.

“Let her go,” Kieran pleads.

The O’Driscoll knows he has to make a run for it now before he has more guns trained on him. He figures that the only chance he’ll get is if he kills the girl, catching them off guard enough to make his escape. He cocks his gun then a shot rings out.

Meanwhile, Arthur is pulled from sleep by the sound of Emmeline screaming “No!” It’s faint, but it’s like his mind is attuned to her voice. Without much thought, he grabs his gun belt and runs out of his room in only his union suit. As he’s running down the stairs, he’s bucking his belt around his hips and drawing his Schofield, ready for a fight. The sun is just barely up, but there’s enough light that he can see a man on the edge of camp holding Emmeline to his chest. Their right sides are facing Arthur so he gets a good look at the gun the O’Driscoll is holding to her head.

Arthur runs full bore at them. Without slowing even a little bit, he readies his gun to shoot the man behind Emmeline. Despite everything going on around Arthur, he somehow sees the small movement of the man’s thumb pulling back the hammer on his gun. Time seems to slow as Arthur lines up his shot to the side of the man’s head before he can fire his gun. Arthur wastes no time in pulling his own trigger, sending a bullet straight into the O’Driscoll’s temple, dropping him.

Emmeline thinks she’s been shot for a moment. She waits for the pain to radiate through her, but it doesn’t come. The only feeling she gets is the cool morning air rushing over her back, signaling that the man that had been holding her isn’t behind her anymore. Before she can turn to see what had happened to him, Arthur rushes over and turns her back to him.

“Don’t look, sweetheart,” he says hurriedly.

Bill’s voice calls out, “We got more bastards coming!”

Without a thought, Arthur picks Emmeline up, cradling her to his chest and runs back to the house. Gunshots start to ring out as he gets closer to the front doors. Before he can open them himself, Dutch bursts through them, both of his guns in his hands.

“Get her in here with the women!” he calls out to Arthur then starts shooting from the porch.

Arthur deposits her just inside. “Run upstairs to Abigail.” He places a kiss on her forehead then turns to go back outside.

Emmeline does as instructed and rushes up to the Marston’s room. She finds Abigail cradling a crying Jack to her chest on the bed.

“Get in here!” Abigail holds her free arm out to Emmeline and she huddled up next to the woman.

Though they’re about the same age, Emmeline allows Abigail to hold her as if she were her mother. She wraps one arm around Abigail’s back and places the other around Jack as an added layer of protection for him.

Outside, the firefight is intense. Round after round of O’Driscolls come at them. It has to be every single member of the gang, Arthur reckons. He sticks right beside Dutch as the man takes down his fair share of enemies. That is until he hears Sadie scream from behind the house.

“Go,” Dutch calls out unprompted. “I’ll cover you.”

Arthur runs around the house as Dutch takes down any men that might shoot at him. When he sees Sadie, she’s pinned down behind one of the buildings in the back. He fights his way toward her, then the two fight their way back out, clearing out all the O’Driscolls that had flanked the house. Soon, the gunshots fade as the few remaining enemies retreat.

Arthur doesn’t even give himself a minute to rest before he’s rushing back into the house and up the stairs. John is hot on his heels as he’s thinking similarly to Arthur in wanting to check on his family. Both men come through the door to the Marston’s room and see the women and Jack sitting on the bed, still cuddled together.

Upon seeing Arthur, Emmeline jumps up and runs over to him, enveloping him in a hug. “Are you hurt?” she asks into his shoulder.

“I’m okay.” He pulls back to look at her. “You okay?”

She nods, her eyes still watery with unshed tears. The battle had certainly shaken her up.

He pulls her back into him and cradles her head to his chest. “It’s alright. It’s over now,” he whispers to the top of her head. After a moment, he looks over to John, now sitting beside Abigail and Jack, his arm around them. “We need to get out of here,” he says suddenly.

John looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Emmeline backs up to look at Arthur as well. “Are they coming back?” She takes his statement as meaning that they need to clear out the camp again.

“No. I don’t know.” Arthur shakes his head. “I mean we ,” he gestures between himself and John, “should leave.”

“What are you saying?” John bites back.

“This life ain’t no place to raise a family, John. We all know that. Jack shouldn’t be raised like this.” He looks over to Emmeline. “No child should. Both of us need to seriously start thinkin’ about leaving.”

John stands with a huff. “All the shit you gave me for leaving and now you’re suggesting it?!”

Arthur takes a step towards the younger man. “You didn’t just leave us . You left them .” He gestures to Abigail and Jack. “Your responsibilities to the gang are one thing, but you left your responsibilities as a father. That’s what I gave you shit about. That boy needed a father. Still does. And this life more ‘n likely is gonna end in him losing you. Or bein’ an orphan.”

“Arthur’s right, John,” Abigail concurs as Jack still clutches his arms around her, though he’s cried himself out and is now falling asleep despite the voices around him. “We can’t keep doin’ this forever. Jack’s getting older and he’s gonna be aware of what we do pretty soon. What you do. He’s a good boy. Smart, you know. He could do so much more than either of us.”

Emmeline feels a bit like a third wheel in this conversation. Though, undoubtedly, she’s one part of the subject of the conversation, everyone else besides her is dealing with a history she’s not involved with. Arthur and John have lived together for over a decade as brothers, for lack of a better word. And Abigail has been with the gang for a few years as well. The decision whether or not to leave the group certainly must be a difficult one for them. The input of a person that’s only been there for a few weeks probably won’t be very welcome at this point, so Emmeline keeps her mouth shut.

John looks from Abigail to Arthur then flicks his gaze over to Emmeline. “You plannin’ on leavin’ with her?” he asks Arthur.

“Don’t have no plans, really.” Arthur runs his hand over his beard as he lets out a sigh. “That O’Driscoll had his gun to her head, fixin’ to shoot her,” he says as he gestures to Emmeline. “In one second she coulda been gone. I coulda lost that chance to...” he swallows roughly at the thought, “to be a father. All because of some old gang feud she ain’t had no part in.”

Not knowing what to say, Emmeline just takes Arthur’s hand in hers. Truth be told, she was specifically avoiding thinking about how close she came to death. And how close Arthur came to it as he battled outside. This whole situation is something she’s never had to deal with before.

Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway outside the room causing everyone to look in that direction.

“Arthur, John?” Dutch’s voice calls out as the footsteps grow nearer.

“In here,” Arthur answers.

A moment later, Dutch appears in the doorway, looking more lively than he has of recent. “Everyone alright in here?”

Everyone nods.

“Good,” Dutch continues. “No major injuries on our side. It seems the O’Driscolls plan was thwarted thanks to you, Emmeline.”

“Oh?” she replies. “I didn’t really do nothing.”

“You alerted us,” Dutch says, pride in his voice. “And Kieran told me you went after the man that attacked him. That was very brave.”

Arthur whips his head around to look at her. “You what ?”

“I just reacted,” she answers. “I saw someone hurting Kieran, so I tried to stop it.”

“You can’t do that,” Arthur asserts.

“Now, son,” Dutch interjects, “she most certainly saved that poor boy from a grisly fate. I think she deserves praise for that.”

Emmeline gives Dutch a genuine smile. Despite the fact that she hasn’t known the man that fathered her for that long, she’s not immune to his charms. Much like the way he’s fostered loyalty in Arthur over the years, she feels a sense of pride that the man is complementing her.

Arthur, on the other hand, is not happy. “I don’t think we should be encouraging her to put herself in danger.”

“It’s not encouragement, Arthur. Just acknowledgement.” Dutch pauses then lets out a heavy breath. “That’s not why I’m here, anyway. Javier caught one of the O’Driscolls before he could run away. I thought I could use you two,” he gestures to Arthur and John, “to interrogate him. See if he won’t tell us where that bastard Colm is so we can return his hospitality .” The word is laced with venom.

Arthur and John share a look before nodding.

“I gotta get dressed first,” Arthur says as he turns to leave with John and Dutch.

“Meet us in one of the buildings in the back,” Dutch calls out as he an John start to descend the stairs.

Emmeline follows Arthur over to their room. “Did you really mean all that?” she asks while he gathers some clothes from his trunk. “About leaving?”

He pauses his motion and turns back to her. “I’ve been scared since... the doctor told us we was gonna be parents, really. Scared what kinda father I’d be. Scared what Dutch is gonna say. Scared about it changing everything here, my whole life, everything I’ve ever known. But all of that weren’t nothing compared to how scared I was when I thought I was gonna lose the two ‘a you. And I don’t wanna leave you a widow, neither. We both need to get outta this. Together.”

She gives him a soft smile as she looks up at him. “That’s what I want, too.”

Over the last few weeks, Emmeline has come to care for the people around her in the camp. All she’s seen is people working together in a normal way, doing everyday things like tending the horses and cleaning up. But this burst of violence is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. She’s never been so close to gunfire, never seen anyone be fought with or shot. Now that she has, she wants nothing more than to never experience that again. If that means leaving everyone here... it’ll be hard, but she’s fine with it as long as she, Arthur, and the baby are safe.

[liv-andletdie]

PUPPY LOVE

Author: liv-andletdie Rating: Teen and up Pairing: TP Zelink Modern AU Notes: Link is a vet at Ordon Veterinary surgery. Zelda is an Aristocrat with a dog who is sick… surprisingly often. Though nothing seems to be wrong with them

Available on Ao3

Chapter 7: The Reunion

Days at the surgery were, in a word, tedious. Depending on the time the building could be flooded with a never ending stream of patients. Cats, dogs, mice, hamsters, birds, gerbils, even reptiles were all frequent visitors to the small country clinic. And as such this made work very difficult for the small team of veterinarians who worked there. Some days it would a be a challenge to get everyone seen and make it through the day without cat scratches or pecks from annoyed parrots. 

And then you had some days where it seemed like nothing happened, like the goddesses had met up for tea and decided that,“No, Ordon shall not face any great medical disaster with its animals today,” and given everyone the day off. Days where the only people to enter the building were delivery men and staff returning from their lunch break.

Link hated the quiet days.

He’d never normally hated them. Sure, he used to get a little restless with nothing to do, but he’d never go so far as to say he hated them. Mild dislike yes, but never hate.

But then, he supposed, he’d never normally had the need to distract himself as much.

Every free second was spent thinking about Her. The way she walked, the way she talked, the perfect curl of her smile, the dazzling blue of her eyes! He’d half expected himself to be over her by now. Iit had been four months since Zelda Harkinian was last in town, and yet his every waking moment was devoted to wondering about her, and wondering if she was thinking about him too.

He wanted to blame Rusl. The elder vet had put that ridiculous mantra in his head, There’s always a chance, even if that chance grew less and less with each turn of the minute hand that he was currently staring at.

Link was sitting in the waiting room, his white coat thrown over one of the chairs as he fixed his eye on the clock. The monotonous ticking marked the slow march of the day. Half past four, only three and a half hours left to go. In the corner of the room Ilia sat at her desk, methodically reading through her coursework, the sound of paper turning breezed through the air in rhythm with the never ending thud of the clock. It would have been almost peaceful if it hadn’t been so warm.

“I thought you had a summer break?” Link asked, his voice shattering the fragile silence of the waiting room. He watched Ilia jump, accidentally flinging her pen up in the air. She scrambled to try and catch it, wincing as it hit of the rim of her mug and fell to the floor.

“I do,” she huffed, leaning down to rescue her pen. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying to keep my mind sharp. Better than just sitting around in this heat”

Summers in Ordon were known for their warmth. A damp humid air from Faron rolling across the winds, only made worse by the unrelenting sun up above. The storms offered little respite from the omnipresent heat, only really clearing the air for a day or two until the Faron winds choked them once more.

“I don’t know how you can concentrate,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He’d already unbuttoned the top two buttons, unbuttoning the third would just make him look silly. Well… sillier than he already did. The heat had no doubt turned his cheeks and ears bright pink.

“I can’t,” Ilia sighed. A soft thud indicated that she’d shut her book, apparently giving up on studying for the time being. Link would have laughed if he didn’t feel so lethargic, doing nothing was exhausting. At least I don’t live in Gerudo, he thought as he wiped a hand across his brow, I don’t think I could handle this kinda heat all year round. The Gerudo desert would be unbearable right now, but maybe Castleton would be better.

He wondered how hot it got in Castleton. Would the pavements sizzle? Would the smell of exhaust hang heavy in the air? Would people flock to the park in their lunch breaks? Would Zelda’s office have functioning AC?

Zelda… how was she dealing with the summer heat?

Tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling, Link let out a mournful sigh, all air leaving his lungs in a defeated rush. He was doing it again, thinking about her. He needed to stop otherwise he was going to drive himself mad. Zelda was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that.

“What’cha thinkin bout?” Ilia mumbled, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. He turned his head to look at her, taking in the way she slumped over the desk, her cheek resting in her palm while she fanned herself with a pamphlet on, what looked like, deworming cats and dogs.

“Nothin,” he lied, eyes turning back to the clock on the wall. Four fortyfive. How has it only been fifteen minutes?

“You’re not thinking about Zelda again are you?” Ilia sighed softly, the arm holding her makeshift fan landing against the desk. She looked as tired as he felt, shoulders sagging and eyes drooping. Even the curl of her hair seemed to have given up the ghost as it hung against her neck.

“Why would I be thinking about Zelda?” he scoffed, trying not to choke on his sarcasm.

“Because you’ve got the biggest crush on her in the history of Hyrule,” Ilia huffed. It wasn’t a secret. At this point practically everyone in Ordon knew of Link’s feelings towards the brunette heiress. They’d all agreed it was a damn shame to see him so heartsick, some even going as far as to call it cruel. Link disagreed with that; afterall, it wasn’t Zelda’s fault that he’d fallen for her as hard as he had. “Honestly Link...it’s been months. I don’t th-”

“I know,” He cut in, wincing at the acid in his tone. “I’m sorry, Ilia… I just… I know it’s been ...I can’t stop wondering...” Where would I be if she’d never left?

Ilia pushed herself back in her chair, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I know,” she sighed, fingers tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. “I know, Link, I do. But maybe it is time to move on. Get out there, meet someone new”

Link sighed. She was only trying to help, he knew that, but the idea of going out and trying to find someone else to fall for… it all felt rather empty. Though he couldn’t bring himself to admit this to Ila. He saw the way she looked at him, worry causing her shoulders to go tense, a false smile always plastered to her lips. She just wanted him to be happy.

Closing his eyes, Link let his head fall back against the chair. All energy leaving from his body with a deep and tired sigh. “Maybe it is,” he murmured, trying not to notice how heavy Ilia’s silence felt now.

Quiet filled the air once more, the repeated ticking of the clock seeping into the spaces left by the absence of  conversation. Outside the sun beat down against the dried earth filling the room with a blazing heat. Not for the first time that day, Link wondered if this was what the evil realm was like.

His wondering was halted when Ilia gave a loud sigh from across the room, throwing her makeshift fan at the desk with a ferocity that he’d never seen from her before. “How does Rusl do it?!” She cried, red faced from exertion.

Rusl was one of the lucky few who rarely seemed affected by the heat. Every year the Faron winds would blow and every year the elder vet appeared to ignore them. It was one of the great unsolved mysteries in the surgery as to how he managed to accomplish such a feat (along with “who’s sandwich is that in the fridge?” and “why are there never any gummy worms in the vending machine”) Link’s money was on the theory that Rusl was part Goron and was therefore used to the heat, Ilia didn’t seem to agree.

“You know my theory,” he sighed running a hand through his hair.

Ilia ignored him, pushing herself away from the desk. “I’m gonna go find a fan,” she declared “Watch the desk for me? I doubt anyone’s gonna show up but, y'know, just in case.”

Link gave a small nod of his head, watching as Ilia fled down the staff corridor. With a sigh he pushed himself from his seat, grimacing at the feel of sweat rolling down his spine.

The desk was placed right in front of the door, open and vulnerable to the blistering sun. No wonder Ilia was so uncomfortable, he thought reaching a hand up to tug at his collar. It was much warmer in this part of the room. He hoped she’d be back soon as he dropped into her chair, he didn’t think he could stand sitting in the sun for too long.

Now I just need to find something to do.

There was only three hours left of work and Link doubted that anyone would show up in that time. Five pm wasn’t exactly their most active hour at the best of times, let alone on days where nothing happened. Running a hand through his hair, Link searched the desk for something to do. It would be better to keep busy he reasoned as he rifled through the drawers, maybe he’d find something interesting?

His heart sank at the sight of paper, bills, and a bag of hard candy that had gone sticky. Nothing he could use to entertain himself! Well… he could make a paper airplane? It had been years since he’d last made one but he was sure he could figure it out if he had enough time. But then again… Ilia probably needed the paper for something, he couldn’t just use it all up without asking.

Resigned to boredom, Link gave the drawer a sharp kick. It made an almighty thud as it collided with the desk, slamming shut and then opening again from the force. He could feel his frustration grow the longer he sat in the sun. It seemed that everything was going wrong, he couldn’t even kick a drawer back into place without having that backfire!

Link debated just leaving the drawer open. If it didn’t want to close that wasn’t his problem, and there was no way he was going to lower himself to the level of disobedient furniture! He wasn’t going to fight with a desk, he was not! He refused! Why should he get down on his knees to close a stubborn drawer when a kick would have sufficed? It was unnatural, the desk was getting ideas above its station if it thought it could treat him this way.

I’m going mad, he thought sliding to his knees under the desk. He pulled the drawer open fully to inspect it, frowning at the sight of the sticky candies littered against the bills and papers. Suddenly every complaint Ilia had ever made about ants made sense, if this was how she stored her sweets no wonder she was popular with the insects. Swallowing his discomfort, Link began sweeping the candies back into their bag. He really needed to have a word with Ilia about how she organised her desk drawers.

“Hello?” A voice called out, musical, romantic, and achingly familiar. “Is there anyone there?”

Link jumped, electricity arcing through his body with every word that passed the strangers lips. Power charged through his legs and he rushed to stand up, the stubborn drawer and the disgusting candy all but forgotten to his frantic mind. Pushing himself upwards with all his might, Link tried to hold back a yelp as his head cracked against the underside of the desk.

Smooth one, Wolfe, he thought, a hand pressed against the steadily growing lump on his scalp, his eyes shut tight at the pain. From the otherside of the desk he heard the voice again, beautiful and soft and tainted with worry. “Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Link breathed, standing up slowly this time to preserve his remaining brain cells. “My dignity took the worst blow.”

The laugh that followed was nothing less than magic, a pure symphony. Wonderful lilting notes hung in the air around him as he straightened, soothing his injuries and his pride. He could listen to that laugh all day and never get tired of it. He eased his eyes open, trying to find the source of such an enchanting giggle, and his heart stopped.

He knew the voice was familiar, why it caused such a powerful reaction in him. He’d heard it before, he’d listened to it in his dreams, he’d spent months replaying the last words she’d ever said to him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere.

She stood in front of him, brown hair piled in a messy bun at the back of her head, her face and neck flushed pink with the summer heat. At her side sat a large husky.

Zelda was back.

“H-hi,” he gasped, suddenly lost for breath. It felt like all the air in the world had vanished, leaving him floundering like a fish out of water.

“Hi,” she sighed, a heart stopping smile curling over her lips. Screw suffocating, he felt like he was drowning! This couldn’t be real, there was no way! The heat had finally gotten to him, he’d hit his head to hard, he’d fallen asleep and this was all just a dream.

“How have you been, Link?” She asked and he wanted to faint. She was here, right in front of him!

“Swell,” he lied. “Just...great.” He could feel his cheeks begin to ache from how wide he was smiling. “A-and you? How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” She said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Busy...work’s been a little frantic”

“Yeah,” he breathed lamely. Why was it so difficult to talk around her? She was just a person it shouldn’t be so hard to just open his mouth and make conversation like a normal person! Comeon, Link. Think! get back on track. “What uhh..what brings you here? Is Naru okay? What’s up?” Perfect.

“Oh! No, she’s...she’s fine.” Zelda started, her eyes flashing quickly to the Husky at her feet. Naru sat on the ground, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted through the heat. “She’s good there’s nothing wrong with her. I just thought that...it’d be a good idea to get her checked over just in case. I mean what with the… heat…” Zelda trailed off, lifting a hand to pull at the messy bun at the back of her neck. She looked… nervous? “I-I can come back later if now’s not a good time”

Link gave the room a quick glance. He took in the still chairs resting in the sunshine, the gentle and never ending tick-tocking of the clock, the fine dust motes floating in the air around them illuminated only briefly before fading away again. It was utterly devoid of life, save for the three of them. Ilia hadn’t even returned yet.

“Now’s fine,” He practically cried as he moved away from behind the desk. “Now’s a great time. Examination room three is open, I’ll take you in there…” The double entendre fell from his lips I’ll take you in examination room three, come on, Link be subtle at least! “I didn’t mean like… I’ll just show you the way”

Link wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a blush rise across Zelda’s cheeks, the already pink skin turning rosy as he moved past her towards the chairs to collect his coat. He’d rather not wear it in such warm weather, but it was always best to appear professional. Biting back a grimace he tugged it over his shoulders before ushering Zelda towards the small examination room.

Pushing open the door Link revealed the modest space. A long metal table took up most of the room, behind it sat a series of cabinets, the tops littered with jars filled with cotton and boxes of latex gloves. A small sink sat at the furthest end from the door, a small trash can placed beneath it. An old computer sat in the corner, it’s screen lighting up as Link pushed at keys to wake it up. With one hand he directed Zelda to sit in the only chair in the room whilst he pulled up a small plastic stool.

“Right, so, just a couple of routine questions,” He started, pulling up Naru’s medical charts.

“Lay them on me,” Zelda smirked, making herself comfortable in her seat. Naru curled around her legs, the strange and unfamiliar environment making her feel anxious.

“Have there been any changes to her eating or drinking habits?”

“No.”

“Good, any weight gain or-”

A sharp howl cut through the air, halting Link in his tracks. He saw Zelda flash him an apologetic look as she reached down to try and calm the animal. “I’m sorry, I know it’s impolite but I gotta ask,” Link continued, earning a smile from Zelda that made his chest feel tight. Ignoring the feeling he asked again, “Any weight gain or loss?”

“No,” she giggled, her hand scratching behind Naru’s ears.

“She up to date on her vaccines?”

“Yes, she got her boosters just last month.”

“Any coughing or Diarrhea?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“Balance issues?”

“Steady as a rock.”

“Excellent, let’s get her up on the table.”

Naru was not a fan of being lifted it seemed as Link wrapped his arms under her. She squirmed in his grasp, letting out another howl as she did so. Zelda stood to the side, muttering apologies and assurances that normally she’s much more well behaved, offering a hand to help calm or distract the wriggling canine. Eventually the two got her on the table, Naru letting out an indignant whine as her claws made contact with the cool steel surface.

Link began with checking her vitals, starting with her pulse and respiration rate before moving onto her temperature (and apologising profusely while he did so) all the while rolling back and forth on his stool between the computer and Naru.

“Vital signs are good,” he murmured half to himself as he stared at the screen. He could hear Zelda behind him blow kisses to her furry friend, the mental image causing him to smile. How was it that she was able to make him feel so happy with the simplest of actions?

Rolling back to the husky, Link started to conduct his physical examination. Naru seemed calmer than she had before, probably soothed by Zelda’s kisses and pats. He watched as she tilted her chin skyward, bright blue eyes sliding shut in pleasure as Zelda scratched at her neck, her tail creating a steady drumbeat against the table.

“I take it she ain’t a huge fan of vets,” he joked, reaching his own hands forward to press against Naru’s abdomen.

“Just the examination rooms,” Zelda confirmed as she pulled her hands back to her lap. “This is the fastest I’ve gotten her to calm down though, there must be something in the room that’s putting her at ease.”

“Could be the wallpaper?” Link snorted jerking his head towards the garish blue and green diagonal stripes that decorated the room. Zelda rolled her eyes at him but she laughed, rewarding him with another heart stopping smile.

Swallowing he turned back to the task at hand. Pulling a stethoscope from the wall behind him, he began listening to Naru’s heart and breathing. She gave a quick twitch at the feel of cold metal against her ribs, blue eyes snapping open to glare at him silently. shrugging his shoulders in a half hearted apology, Link couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his throat.

Across from him, Zelda sat back in her chair. She’d taken the messy bun out of her hair, running through the strands with her fingers to tidy them. Naru’s check up was forgotten as he watched her, nimble fingers pulling the hair into a perfect plait, a serene expression on her face.

He knew he’d missed her, the entirety of Ordon knew that he’d missed her! He’d thought about nothing but her for the past four months, just praying he’d get the chance to see her one last time. Having her here, now, in front of him, he hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been for that prayer to be answered.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, so quiet he wasn’t even sure that he’d said the words out loud. Zelda’s eyes turned towards him, the beginnings of a blush painting her cheeks and ears a light pink.

“Well…” she swallowed, hands dropping to her lap. He watched as she clutched at the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles going a bright white. She tilted her head towards Naru on the table. “She missed you”

“I wasn’t talking to the dog.”

Zelda's eyes grew wide, cheeks turning scarlet and lips parting in a quiet, surprised gasp as she lifted her eyes to his. All air seemed to rush from her lungs and for a moment Link was scared that she was going to faint or curse him out. But instead she seemed to gather herself, eyelashes fluttering as she searched for something to focus on that wasn’t him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Link felt his chest grow hot.

“It’s nice to see you again too,” She’d gone bright red, her nerves masterfully hidden as she gazed up at him through her lashes. The room seemed to grow warmer but he couldn’t bring himself to care, her words were echoing around his head like the chimes of a cymbal. Maybe… just maybe, she’d missed him as much as had missed her?

Naru’s sharp, annoyed, howl wrang through the air, shattering the moment and drawing his attention back to her and the stethoscope  still pressed against her ribs. Fighting back the rising flush of embarrassment he felt at being called out by a husky, Link quickly returned to his work as he examined her eyes, teeth, and ears. Once he was satisfied that she was alright, Link pulled his stool over the computer.

“Naru looks fine,” he murmured, hands moving across the keys. “She’s recovered well from that cold she had a couple months back, so that’s good. As for dealing with the heat I’d recommend just brushing her a whole lot to get rid of any excess fur, but don’t trim her. Also, if you’ve got a pond in your garden she might like to swim in that to keep cool? A kiddie pool would also work. I actually knew a guy who’d freeze fruit for his dog so she could play with it. Just took an old ice cream tub and filled with water with an apple in it”

“Thank you,Link -  uh Doctor Wolfe.” He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as she showered Naru with affection. Pressing loving kisses against her forehead and gentle scratches under her chin and ears.

“Just doing my job,” he sighed, as he shut the computer down. She turned to him, something shining in her royal blue eyes that made him weak at the knees. It really was good to see her again. “I’ll walk you back to the desk.”

<><><>

The lowering sun cast a deep orange light over the waiting room. Tall shadows of the trees outside curled over the room through the windows like the cracks in a vase. The clock continued it’s resolute march and somewhere nearby an electric fan whirred, pulling and pushing the heavy air around the space.

“How long have you been back in Ordon?” Link asked, holding the door open for Zelda and Naru to walk past. Her perfume tickled his nose as she got close, lingering in the back of his throat. The scent of fresh roses following in the air after her.

“Not long, I just got back really,” she said, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “I’ve not even been up to the estate yet, I just... came straight here.”

“Worried about Naru?”

“No...I…” She trailed off, a hand coming up to tug on her braid, a nervous smile curling over her lips. “I just wanted to come here first”

It was impossible to hold back the goofy, idiotic, grin that plastered itself across his face. Even the most miserable of people would have failed when faced with the knowledge that Zelda Harkinian had wanted to get to the surgery before anything else. He’d managed to compose himself earlier when she had said that it was nice to see him again, but she was quickly breaking down his defences. He’d be a dribbling pile of nerves by the time she left and all she had to do was smile at him!

Turning towards the desk, in an attempt to at least hide his grin, Link began drawing up her bill. The fan that Ilia had placed on the desk only worked to increase his discomfort, blowing hot air directly into his face as he tried to work. The secretary herself, however, was nowhere to be seen. A small yellow note stuck to the computer monitor was the only clue to her whereabouts.

Uli’s stuck at the bakery, Rusl’s at the ranch. I had to take Colin to cricket club, desk is all yours. -Ilia x P.s. don’t root around my stuff!

Suppressing the urge to rub his eyes, he fished a pen out of the pot she kept there to write his reply.

Clean your candy. Ants love it, I don’t. -L P.s. the fan is useless

“That’s forty five ruppees for the consultation. No other charge because she’s a perfectly healthy dog.” He held the card reader out towards Zelda, looking away as she typed in her pin. He could hear the sound of Naru’s tail thumping against the floor in time with the clock on the wall in the otherwise silent room.

“How long are you in Ordon for?” he asked, pulling back the reader as it began to print the receipt. He’d been aiming to break the silence before it got too daunting, to make casual conversation like two friends do. And yet his mind had leapt to the first question he’d wanted to ask. He felt the tops of his ears grow warm as he handed her card back to her. No turning back now.

“I’m here for a month,” she explained, seemingly not noticing his sudden nerves. She tucked her card back into her purse. “I’m taking a break from work for a little bit.”

“Cool, cool.” Now what? He’d hit a dead end. Cool wasn’t a way to continue a conversation, nor a way to end one properly. He couldn’t just stop talking, but then what should he say? You’re gonna love the weather? No, he doubted anyone could love this weather. She might take it as sarcastic, but what if she didn’t? Then he’d have to explain himself and that would be awkward. Not to mention that it was a pessimistic statement to make for no reason! Talking about the weather was off the table. Any plans? might be a good choice. Unless she thought he was asking her out… would that be such a bad thing? He could ask her out right now! It’d be easy, just say Well if you’re here for a month do you wanna hang out sometime? There was nothing stopping him! That’s it! Link decided I’m going to ask her out.

“We might see each other around.”

You coward.

“We might,.” She agreed, pulling her hand bag up higher to her shoulder. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to assume anything but… she seemed disappointed. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too,” idiot! idiot! idiot! “Take care.” By Farore, he was stupid! Saying goodbye to her now? Well she probably had somewhere to be, shopping to do or something. There’d been no one at the estate so she’d need to air it out and clean the sheets maybe. He couldn’t keep her here any longer than he already had. He was a veterinarian, he’d done his job, she had no reason to stick around.  

“I will,” She smiled, taking a step backwards towards the door. She was almost hesitant.

Realistically, when am I gonna run into her again? I don’t even have her number.

“Uh, wait...”

She stopped. Bright, royal blue, eyes staring at him. The whole situation was vaguely familiar, only this time they were standing in a sweltering waiting room instead of her driveway under freezing cold rain. Back then, all he’d wanted was for her to stay. That wasn’t an issue now, she was staying albeit only for a few weeks. But a few weeks would have to be enough time.  

“Yes?”

Screw half-cooked Ramen. It was now or never.

“Would you… I mean it’s… there’s a… do you wanna get coffee sometime?” He choked. He’d envisioned this moment before, except he hadn’t been stumbling over his words and he’d swept her off of her feet in a display so romantic that cheesy romcom movies would look tame in comparison. But he’d done it now, for better or worse. He couldn’t even look at her, his eyes staring at the pen he’d left lying out on the desk. She was probably going to say no, maybe she’d let him down gently if he was lucky.

“I’d love to.”

Wait, what? His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Had she just… she’d said… she wanted too…

“Great. Great!  I’ll… uhh give you my number,” He began patting down his pockets in a frenzy, searching desperately for his phone. His mind and heart still reeling from the revelation that Zelda-Goddess-Damned-Harkinian had just said yes to going on a date with him. Only one problem remained… his phone was charging in the break room. Resisting the urge to slam his head against the desk he continued.  “I don’t...I don’t have my phone with me.  Uhh I could run back and-”

Zelda reached forward faster than he could comprehend, a hand expertly wrapping around his forearm, keeping him still as she pushed up his shirt sleeve. He watched breathless as she grabbed the pen from the desk and began writing on his skin in short, elegant, cursive.

0145 712598 - Miss Harkinian x

“You’ve got my number,” She breathed, a coquettish grin pulling at her lips. Link felt faint at the sight of her smile and the feel of her hand on his arm, her thumb tracing small circles over his skin.

“I do,” He said dumbly, his heart kicking back into gear at the realization. “I have your number so I’ll call you and then we can arrange something.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Her smile is gonna be the death of me, he thought as she pulled away. But damn, what a way to go. Zelda’s hand dropped from his arm, her attention drawn towards Naru as she gave a low howl.

“I gotta get her home,” Zelda giggled, leaning down to pat her husky on the nose. “I’ll hear from you later?”

“Absolutely,” He gasped, nodding his head so fast he was sure he was going to do himself an injury. “You’ll hear from me later, 100%.”

“Goodbye, Link,” she sighed, her lip caught between her teeth in a way that made his heart race.

“Bye, Zelda.

And just like that she was gone, walking out of the door, her husky in tow. He watched her till he couldn’t see her anymore,till she was nothing but a spec on the horizon, till the setting sun began to shine in his eyes and the clock struck the hour. Pushing away from the desk, he ran to the break room with all the power he could muster.

His phone was right where he’d left it, plugged in next to the toaster of all things. He practically ripped it from the wall in his haste. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he punched her number in, causing his whole body to shake with anticipation. Pressing the phone against his ear he waited, counting the rings until she picked up.

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

It was torture. Two seconds felt like five hours. He couldn’t stop moving, constantly tapping his feet against the floor. He thought he was going to explode until he heard her voice, sweet and melodious, echo down the phone line.

“Hello, Zelda Harkinian speaking.How can I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m Doctor Link Wolfe with the Ordon veterinary surgery. I was wondering if you were free this friday?”

~Fin~

<><><>

The final chapter? What? no? Yes. This marks the end of the FIRST installment of Puppy Love. I'll be taking a short break after this but when I'm back I'll be starting work on the Puppy Love Short stories and lots of new fics as well. I'll write a sappier Authors note for the Epilogue which I'll be posting up in a week I promise haha

Massive Thanks to @zeldasdiaries/ @missdellarosa, @andelynk, and @electragoob for helping me so much during this process. I couldn't have done it without them. And thank you all so much for sticking by me through this, I'm so grateful to each and every one of you

[i-w-p-chan]

A Detective and His Rival Phantom Thief

Summary: To be a successful detective, Akechi Goro believes, one needs a good case and a worthy rival. Luckily for the second coming of the Detective Prince, he has both. (Or does he?)

Note: The other day someone mentioned this kind of AU in the shuake server and I was reminded of how much I wanted to dabble in it.

Also, despite the summary, this isn’t connected to P5A.

Warnings: Kinda Cracky, Kinda Feelsy (Only Teeny Tiny Bit Though), Kinda Fluffy, Self-Indulgent Ficcing Happened Again, Zero Regrets, Akechi Is Gay And In Denial, Can You Hear The Author’s Mad Cackling?, Human!Morgana, Akechi’s Adorable Murderous Urges.

Disclaimer: Don’t own P5.

.

Goro observed the barista from above the pages of his detective novel, eyes locked on the teen’s figure as he moved about smoothly to prepare Goro’s cup of coffee.

This was him, Goro knew without a shadow of doubt, this was the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. He absolutely fit the bill- aside from his motives and circumstances (both of which Goro had already confirmed to fit the profile he had in mind), there were the mannerisms; the Thieves’ leader acted very unassuming, quiet and rarely speaking, the type anyone would bypass without a second glance, but held a subtle charm to those who bothered to pay him any attention.

Truly, as befitting a phantom thief.

“Here,” Kurusu murmured, the quietness of his voice hiding the baritone Goro had heard a few times when Kurusu let his guard down sometimes, and put Goro’s cup of coffee on the counter in front of him.

“Thank you, Kurusu-kun.” Goro breathed out, putting away his novel and sending a charming smile Kurusu’s way; Kurusu wasn’t swayed or flustered by the action, not that Goro expected him to. Goro took a sip from his coffee and sighed, relishing the taste that made him return to this café, over and over again (aside from Kurusu- and the curry, can’t forget about the curry), “Delicious as always.” Goro sent Kurusu a wink while keeping a tight lid on his inner giddiness that came to existence due to the combination of the coffee and Kurusu’s presence.

The giddiness intensified when Kurusu ducked his head and one of his hands rose to fiddle with his messy bangs with slender fingers; it was Kurusu’s bashful telltale and Goro enjoyed each time he got to fluster Kurusu like so- Kurusu’s reactions were absolutely delicious~

Goro hid a smug grin behind the rim of his cup, but only enough so that it wouldn’t be very obvious- he certainly wanted Kurusu to notice it.

And notice it Kurusu did, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Goro inwardly cackled and a mischievous spark entered his eyes.

He could feel Sojiro’s Disapproving Look burning a hole right through him, but he didn’t pay it any mind; he was a detective on a job, a predator with the scent of his prey filling his nose- he wouldn’t let something as pesky as other people’s approval stop him.

In that moment, the bell above Leblanc’s entrance chimed as the door opened, heralding the arrival of another customer.

“Hey, Boss!” Goro almost narrowed his eyes at the familiar obnoxious voice that grated on his ears.

It was fuc- curs- goddam- hecking Kobayashi.

“Oh, it’s Akechi.” Kobayashi plopped gracelessly on the chair to Goro’s right, and Goro’s hold on his cup tightened, “What are you doing here? Oh, wait, don’t answer that.” Kobayashi’s mouth stretched in his usual ugly Cheshire cat grin, his eyes flitting to Kurusu, and making Goro immediately contemplate at least three ways to maim him (he had a nice cup of hot coffee on hand, he had a briefcase on his left, he had his own fucking forearm which could make a nice chokehold-), “You’re here to woo Akira, aren’t you?” Kobayashi cheerfully declared.

“Morgana!” Kurusu hissed, while Sojiro merely shook his head.

Goro’s urge to throw Kobayashi into a vat of acid and watch him die while laughing and pointing increased by 300%.

“Kobayashi-kun,” Goro ground out through his clenched teeth, “I’m not here to… ‘woo’ Kurusu-kun, or anything of the sort.” Goro nodded decisively, “I’m simply here to enjoy the coffee and quiet company-“ Goro sent a beaming smile Kurusu’s way, “-right, Kurusu-kun?”

Kurusu nodded his head jerkily, averting his face from Goro in the process, and Goro’s chest clenched at the sight.

Privately, Goro wondered why he felt like he should take back what he said, even though it was the best response in such a situation; after all, he didn’t want to give Kobayashi more ammunition to use against him.

“Is there something wrong?” Goro inquired, expression clearly showing his confusion, as he noticed both Kobayashi and Sojiro giving him disbelieving looks.

Sojiro just shook his head and disappeared to the kitchen amid the silence that stretched even after Sojiro returned with a plate of curry and placed it in front of Kobayashi, who finally interrupted the silence, “Hey, are you actually oblivious or are you just playing around? Because let me tell you it better be the first, not the second, because if it was the second, then I hold the rights to pants you in public in front of your adoring fans.” With his piece said, Kobayashi dug into his plate of curry.

Goro almost snorted; he was neither oblivious nor playing around- Kurusu was a serious topic for Goro and required his utmost attention and care. Well, at least now with Kobayashi no longer running his mouth, Goro could return the entirety of his focus on Kurusu and continue flirt-

His brain reached a screeching halt and he almost dropped his cup of coffee.

Um.

AHEM.

That wasn’t…

He wasn’t…

Goro stared blankly at his cup, not so much seeing it as staring through it.

He vaguely registered the sound of Sojiro snorting, “There. Now he realizes.”

.

“Ah, I see everyone is here.” Goro smiled at the Thieves as they all piled into the empty office after him, “I’m glad.”

“Everyone?” Sakamoto parroted.

“Yes.” Goro’s smile widened, “No need to act so coy with me, I have long since known about your activities. I simply didn’t have the chance to confront you before now. Especially with incriminating evidence.”

Kurusu cocked his head to the side, and damn did he have to look so adorable? “Activities? Incriminating evidence?”

“Yes.” Goro nodded resolutely, “Your group is the Phantom Thieves of Hearts and you, Kurusu-kun, are their leader.” Goro declared dramatically as he reached into his coat and pulled out a number of pictures depicting everyone in front of him sans Kurusu, “And I have picture evidence. I must admit, it was devious of you not to be seen at all around Okumura Foods HQ, you must have seen through me since the very beginning, Kurusu-kun, and did your absolute best to avoid being caught in such incriminating evidence. But I guess that I shouldn’t expect anything less from my rival, the notorious leader for such an elusive group of vigilantes.”

Silence.

Goro blinked at the group, and the group stared back at him with looks of pure incredulousness.

“Um, what?” Takamaki was the first to regain her voice, “Did you just say that Akira is our leader?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Goro responded, confusion swirling within him at receiving such a reaction, “He is highly proficient, intelligent, bold, charming-“ (“Gay,” Sakamoto muttered, and Takamaki elbowed him in the side, Goro ignored both)”- and with a great web of confidants with convenient skills to help you in your endeavors.”

Niijima cleared her throat, “I think you have a correct take on the situation, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong: Akira isn’t our leader, he isn’t even a member of the Thieves, he is a very dear friend, true, but not all of our friends are members of the Thieves. Our leader is actually Morgana.”

Goro stared blankly ahead, and Kurusu sighed, “What is it with people always assuming that I’m a member of the Thieves?”

.

“You’re not a member of the Thieves…” Goro stared at Kurusu’s phone as he scrolled through it for the umpteenth time, though his search didn’t net him any sign of the Meta Nav that all the Thieves had along with Goro who had the fortune (misfortune?) to be accidentally pulled along with the Thieves on their latest heist.

“I’m not.” Kurusu’s tone was bland, and Goro had to suppress a flinch; it turned out that letting slip the implication that he’d been spending so much time around Kurusu was just to gather information on the Thieves was not a wise choice, and he’d been too stunned by the revelation that Kurusu wasn’t whom Goro thought he was, that he didn’t even think about backpedalling and telling Kurusu that, true, it may have been for information gathering purposes at the beginning, but Goro had grown to genuinely enjoy Kurusu’s company.

He had to fix that mistake.

Goro raked a hand through his hair and sighed before he returned the phone to its owner, “Listen to me, Kurusu-kun,” Goro started and Kurusu looked back at him, though Goro couldn’t see his eyes from the way the light reflected off of them (which told him that he was in deep trouble if he didn’t correct the situation- and fast), “It’s true that I started frequenting Leblanc and spending time with you to get information on the Thieves, but that was months ago. It’s different now, I promise! I… like being around you and-“ Goro could practically feel his own face’s increasing temperature as it glowed with an impressive blush, “-I enjoy spending time with you. I don’t want this misunderstanding to ruin our… friendship. Um. I’m sorry.” Goro almost winced at his own words; he was usually very eloquent, where had the words disappeared off to?

“Okay.” Kurusu smiled lightly at him and Goro’s insides did an impressive set of flips and twists.

“O… kay?”

“Yeah.” Kurusu’s smile widened, and Goro had to put a hand on his chest, feeling like his heart may just as well tear itself out of his body at the sheer amount of emotion that smile induced in him.

“But first…”

“Yes?”

“Call me Akira.”

“Alright… Akira-kun.”

.

End

Yes, Kobayashi is human!Morgana’s surname.

[yoiotdfics]

Fic Recs for April 2017

Music of the Heart by rk_rl

A chance at fame. Potential love. Realizing he’s your soulmate. It’s a chance Yuuri can’t resist. Life and love. Fickle. Opportunities Only last so long. Loosing cannot, will not stop him. Salvation, as always, comes in the form of Victor Nikiforov.

want by insidetwizzles

Summary:

On nights like this, when he’s cold and alone and wants nothing more than to fuck the heat out of Yuuri, Viktor imagines.

i wanna be (the best you’ve ever known) by notcaycepollard

Summary:

All Viktor actually wants is to spoil Yuuri.

Apparently, he’s not able to spoil Yuuri so much as he seems able to spoil things with Yuuri. It is terribly unfair. Perhaps the universe actually has it out for him.

The Gifts of Friendship by  Whisper132

Summary:

Yuri and Otabek’s relationship blooms as they learn the art of giving, receiving, and documenting everything online to show off.

Puppy Love by  Phyona

Summary:

When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov’s apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol’s pet, is watching him pine for someone else.

Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

There’s a Difference Between Sleight of Hand and Misdirection by  GordandV

Summary:

Guang Hong doesn’t reply: it certainly doesn’t seem like one of his best programs considering the score.

American Pie (Friends Don’t Let Friends Eat Pancakes) by  youaremarvelous

Summary:

Yurio takes his drunk dads to Waffle House and fun times are had by all

Something Sweet by  AmericanCanada

Summary:

All Yuuri wanted to do was bake some cookies…….

all my friends and all the loose ends by  Anonymous

Summary:

There’s a box on Phichit’s bedside table, marked with the days of the week. Clear blue, the distinct shape of medication hazy and lumpy underneath the covers. He’d tried to hide it, at first, but he forgot to take them if he couldn’t see them, and maybe, just maybe, Yuuri wouldn’t judge.

Private Theatricals by  Watergaw

Summary:

Some unmitigated historical fluff as a gift for my dear Yunitsa on this auspicious occasion. In which I commit acts of petty larceny on the works of Jane Austen and set the whole thing in 1865 for reasons of insufferable pedantry. I hope it makes you smile.

Mr Victor Nikiforov, rich, handsome, accomplished, and quite the most eligible bachelor in four counties, has a problem. His friend Giacometti has a solution.

Exhibition by  stella_polaris

Summary:

Yuri needs a special look for his exhibition piece but he struggles with perfecting it himself. It’s good that he has Mila to help him.

Fandom Bicycle, Case 1: Sara Crispino by ineptshieldmaid

Summary:

Sara folds her arms and examines Chris. ‘You flirt with everyone,’ she says.

‘Most people,’ Chris concedes.

‘How do you manage it?’

—

(Series: tumblr prompt challenge-to-self, an attempt to test just how many characters can be paired with Chris Giacometti)

critical hit by  reptilianraven

Summary:

”Victor is certainly an incredible player, but his opponent might just give him a run for his money.”

”I totally agree. Victor’s opponent, seventeen year old Yuuri Katsuki representing Japan, is one of the most interesting players this championship has ever seen.”

-

Yuuri brings a Pachirisu to the Pokemon Video Game World Championship Finals and rocks Victor’s world.

Maslenitsa by  spare

Summary:

“It’s the week when we get to eat pancakes,” Victor explains. “Lots and lots of pancakes.” … Or the terribly inaccurate, shamelessly self-indulgent, fluff-for-fluff’s-sake fic where Victor and Yuuri celebrate Maslenitsa in St. Petersburg.

Like a Fairytale

lucycamui

Summary:

In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his ‘Cinderella’ Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he’s doing).

“The crown prince of the Nikiforov kingdom, infatuated with a mystery pastry chef he’s only just met. This is exactly the kind of scandalous love story my life has been missing… So, what’s he look like? What exactly is Prince Victor’s type?”

“…Sweet.”

“Well, he does make pastries.“

I can be your devil or your angel, baby

hinatella

Summary:

Yuuri Katsuki didn’t ask for any of this, and he’s starting to question all of his life choices that lead up to this cursed moment.

Reason in Madness

Gigi_Sinclair

Summary:

“Yuri is only fifteen, but Lilia can already see the danger that’s gathering around him, the jackals that are licking their chops and beckoning. Men, women, alcohol, drugs. Scandals that lose sponsors, mistakes that ruin lives. There’s a world of tempting trouble out there, and it’s up to them to keep Yuri out of it, just as they did for Victor.”

UTC plus nine

anirondack

Summary:

Yuuri leans against the low wall, then sits on it. He rolls one ankle, and then the other. A light breeze plays along his face. His phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He digs it out and sees a text from Victor, so he swipes it open and then drops his phone on the ground.

Victor is the master of nudes. Yuuri is easy.

Not Quite in the History Books

Black_Tailed_Gull (ExpatGirl)

Summary:

Viktor recounts his rather…unique…version of a housewarming ritual.

Small Bundles Of Joy Come With Big Bills

iamthefacebehindthemask

Summary:

Victor did what?

Aka, Victor is always extra, even as he is about to become a parent, and Yuuri tries to deal.

Toucan Play At That Game

whalefairyfandom12

Summary:

“Hey Seung-Gil.”

“Yes?”

The Korean skater had always intimidated Phichit a little. Talented and quiet some would call him antisocial, but deep down Phichit was sure they could be good friends. And what better way to break the ice than with a joke?

“What do you call memory loss in a parrot?”

Batter Up!

Shadow_sensei

Summary:

Victor and Yuuri are celebrating their birthdays together and decide to bake their own cakes, competing against each other to see which of their cakes will be the one to win over the party. Neither have baked a cake in years.

Laundry Day

cryingoverspilledvodka

,

lucycamui

Summary:

The Katsuki-Nikiforov household takes a morning off to do laundry. Living together, it’s not just the bed that needs breaking in.

Duckling

missmichellebelle

Summary:

The ballet classes are, inevitably, Victor’s idea.

something for the first time

copperwings

Summary:

Post-canon life in St. Petersburg, aka the ficlet in which Victor reads Cosmo for relationship advice and Yuuri disapproves.

Basically this is just humor and fluff.

Damage Control

aeriamamaduck

Summary:

Victor wakes up after a night of drinking with Yuuri and remembers taking a selfie.

minty coffee and sugary kisses

phylocalist

Summary:

A breath in, a breath out. Sara walks to the table she saw Mila sit on with a coffee in one hand and plate with the muffin in the other. It’s not like they’re short on staff and, in reality, she shouldn’t be doing this, this isn’t her work, but. She wants to.

(God, she’s so weak for pretty girls. Always has been.)

Or: Five times Sara makes a coffee for Mila in a coffee shop as an acquiantance, one time she makes a coffee for Mila in her apartment as her girlfriend.

5 things about the Yuri!! on Ice Cinderella AU

LLitchi

Summary:

The search is a campaign of low grade sexual harassment as all men and women in the country bemusedly allow Viktor to molest everything below their ankles, as respectfully as he can while still being a huge pervert.

Phichit the Brave

icandrawamoth

Summary:

Guang Hong, Leo, and Phichit go camping, and Phichit saves his boyfriends from the terrors of the woods at night

Wax or Shave?

FujoshiFluff

Summary:

A little bit of both.

(Yuuri and Viktor banter, deals are made, and Viktor chokes once or twice)

Homesickness

Clairianne

Summary:

With all his love for America, Guang Hong sometimes feels homesick.

calling all romantics

cyanoscarlet

Summary:

Contrary to popular opinion, Yakov Feltsman was a true romantic at heart.

A Family Portrait

kat_hale

Summary:

The Katsuki-Nikiforov-Plisetsky family naps.

OR

Nikolai Plisetsky is in the hospital and Yuuri and Viktor take care of their son.

Birthday in Bed

FeelsandFandoms

Summary:

Phichit never cared much for celebrating his birthday, but that might change this year with Leo and Guang-Hong spending it with him.

[justsomewritingsandshit]

The Struggles of a Male Veela (Part 2 - Selene Morgenstern)

Louis Weasley x Soulmate!OC

Length: 2414 words

Warnings: hints towards lesbian parents, slight house predjudice, soulmate au, next gen!, altered next gen! ages, young Hunter Parrish as Louis, female OC

Part 2 of ‘The Struggles of a Male Veela’ Series | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3 |

Louis knew this was his soulmate, someone whom he felt a compulsion to be around. He felt the need to care for this person, like he did with the members of his family – but the need was stronger, if possible. He desperately wanted to love this girl, to be the person to help her when she needed, and be at her side as she went through life. Louis especially wanted to hold her hand, and press loving kisses to her lips…

“Again; very sorry for running into you!” The girl then hurried off, towards two middle aged females who were standing near a cart. Like others on the platform, the cart was topped by luggage, and a large grey owl, who was hooting away in a bronzed cage.

“Mate,” There was a pause, “What just happened?” Teddy Lupin was now trying to steady his ‘cousin’, as it honestly looked as if Louis was about to fall over. The younger boy was now being enclosed by his family, who were all concerned about the shortness of his breath, and the fact he seemed dazed. Meanwhile, he was trying to look around everyone’s heads, hoping to catch another glimpse of that girl.

His mother was pressing her hands to his reddened cheeks, “Ma cherie, are you feeling alright?” Fleur noticed his gaze was not on any of those trying to converse with him, but rather, it was focussed on a small family about five metres away. She looked intently at the small family, the girl was kissing the women on the cheeks, before getting onto the train. The Frenchwoman paused for a moment, as she realised what was occurring, before she let a large smile crowd her gorgeous face. “Ah!” Fleur exclaimed happily, effectively startling the others around her.

“Love?” Bill was now addressing his wife, noticing her attentions were now on the same family that Louis was looking at. “What’s going on?”

“’e ‘as found ‘is soulmate!”

Many of the family, who were understanding of the situation, let out surprised, but pleased, noises. To many on the platform, particularly those who didn’t know them, they just seemed like that dramatic family who over-dramatised every event in their lives – which they totally were.

Albus, however, was not one of these people, the ones who gasped. Instead he rolled his eyes at their actions. Sure, he was happy for his cousin, but there was honestly no reason to react so dramatically, in his opinion anyway. It was sort of obvious that Louis would have a ‘mate’, as all full veelas do. Why was it surprising it was someone his age, who went to the same school? And besides, he was pretty sure that they even shared some classes… if his vast knowledge was correct. “Well, as fun as this discovery was, we need to board, or we’ll miss the train.” His cool voice reminded him that he should probably find his friends…

His words jolted those of whom had to get on the train, out of their reveries. The children who were to board, began to hastily gather their luggage, pets, bags, etc.

“Bye mum, dad, love you!” Albus kissed his mother’s cheek, and hugged his dad briefly, before hopping onto the red train. He had to find Scorpius Malfoy, and Frankie Zabini, two of his Slytherin friends whom he hadn’t seen for most of the summer – due to their parents not being happy with their friendship to the son of the ‘saviour’.

After a few moments, all the rest of the clan followed in Albus’s footsteps, hugged their parents’ goodbye. There was a point where Rose nearly left her wand, which Hermione held onto until she ran back off the train for it. “Don’t forget to write!” Was shouted after them, as their mothers parroted the words they were told each year.

“Ma cherie,” Fleur pulled her eldest to the side momentarily, whilst there were a few minutes left before the train finally pulled out of the station, “Owl me ‘eef you need me!” Her tone was completely serious, and Louis found himself nodding at her, his face mimicking her seriousness. Despite their solemn tones, and faces, there was clear excitement shining in both of their eyes.

“I will mum, love you!”

Louis rushed off as soon as he could, he had to find her. He wasn’t even thinking about it, he was following what his body believed to be right. It was an easy process too, even with his twin sister clearly following behind him. He followed his gut to the very back of the train, somewhat relying on his veela-ness to help. Louis paused, his Gryffindor bravery failing him for a second, as he reached the last carriages.

Everyone knew that the Slytherins’ sat at the back of the Hogwarts express.

Victoire eventually caught up to him, having her suspicions as to what he was doing, but also being a lot slower than him physically, now that he’s a full veela. “Is she down here?” She asked him a bit hesitantly, as well as slightly breathy. She knew as well as he did, that this meant ‘his’ girl was most probably a Slytherin.

Even after all these years there’s a stigma about Slytherins’ – probably amplified due to what happened during the war. This was especially true about their family. The Potter-Weasley’s still weren’t too trusting of Slytherins.

When Albus was sorted into Slytherin, there seemed to be an immediate change in him.

Many in his family saw it negatively, saw it as him becoming ‘evil’. Rather, it was merely him absorbing the personalities of his friends, to further expand his own. All children did it when they reached their teens, as that’s how kids began to form who they are during these years. Unfortunately, most Slytherin purebloods are taught from a young age, to not be conceived as weak – this usually culminates in the slightly unemotional personalities, or cold exteriors, that the rest of the wizarding world sees.

Obviously, the energetic, emotional personalities of the Weasley-Potter clan clashed heavily with the cooler, less dramatic personality of Albus after this process.

The pair were walking down the train hallway slowly, when Louis suddenly stopped, causing Victoire to bump into his back. “She’s in here.” The second-to-last carriage held the girl who was Louis perfect match, he could both sense her, and smell her – the scent of her skin was tropical. Mangoes and coconuts. Louis assumed this was due to a body wash or soap, and shamefully, it led to him wondering slightly inappropriate thoughts about her. He wondered…

“What are you two doing?” Albus and his friends had managed to sneak up on the older twins, whilst the younger was waiting on the elder to stop daydreaming. Scorpius Malfoy and Frankie Zabini stood either side of the young dark haired Potter, both looking at them confused. Most of the members of the Weasley family avoided Slytherins, as old grudges are hard to abandon they’d found, so they were confused by their presence down the ‘Slytherin’ end of the train.

Victoire smiled slightly, low-key adoring her cousin and his friends. They looked cute to her, trying to seem tougher and meaner than they truly were. It vaguely reminded her of when she and her cousins played pretend, as young children. “His ‘soulmate’ is in there.” She gestured with her thumb behind her shoulder, to the carriage door that was shut, glass obscured by the ugly curtains that matched the ugly fabric of the train seats.

Louis was staring at the closed door, as he began to realise what Victoire said was true. His perfect match was in there, and he had no idea what he should say to her…

Victoire continued, as if her brother’s internal battle wasn’t happening, “Do you know who she is, Albus?”

That jolted Louis out of his state. He whipped around to look at his younger cousin in awe, the possibility of learning more about this girl too much for him. “You know her?”

“The girl who knocked you over, your ‘soulmate’,” Albus put quotation marks around the word, making it seem as if he didn’t believe, but really, he was just teasing, “Her name is Selene Morgenstern.”

“Selene… Morgenstern.” Louis repeated the name, loving the way it sounded on his lips. It was an elegant name, too. He found himself wondering if she was pure-blooded. Obviously, it didn’t matter to his ‘blood-traitor’ family, or to him, if she was. “Selene…”

Victoire stared at her brother, who was began mouthing the words silently. “Are you okay?” She questioned him, looking at him like he was crazy. Honestly, ever since he transformed, he’s been weird – not that he wasn’t odd before the changing. The two twins were very close, and they’d always gotten along, but Louis was always more of an oddity, compared to her. After a moment, he stopped mouthing the name and just stared at the compartment door. “Louis, are you going in?” He was loitering and several people passing by had begun to look at him, but he wasn’t paying attention to anything but the door.

“Yes!”

Louis’s exclamation was louder than necessary, and caught the attention of those inside the compartment. “Hello?”

The door had opened to reveal several sets of eyes, but the only one of note, according to Louis’s brain, was Selene’s. They stood out vividly to him. Louis was still stood in the same place he was before the door opened, meaning he was now stood very close to Selene. Closer than he felt was necessary, so he forced himself a step back. He didn’t want to make he feel uncomfortable! Hopefully, later in their relationship (he hoped), he’d get to be as close to her, as his biology was begging him to be.

“Oh, it’s you!”

“Who is it, Sel?”

“Yeah, Sellie, tell us who the gentleman caller is!” The two females behind Selene, who looked closely related (Victoire noticed, Louis was busy trying to not be too obvious in his staring), had teasing tones to their voices. To those that had known them, these girls would have reminded anyone of a young Fred and George Weasley (unfortunately, none of these children had known them both, together). Their nicknames for the girl were obviously mocking, as the female in question gave them faux-glares in return.

Another head popped up behind the girls, a male who had his own teasing tone, “Miss Selene, the nerve of it all! You have gentleman callers coming to you, immediately after you tell us you weren’t seeing someone!” His joking was dramatic, like many people Louis knew, “The betrayal, the lies! Where will it end?” He put his hand to his forehead, and clutched one of the siblings to his chest (with said sibling pretending to cry).

“Oh, sod off, Boot!” Selene called back to her dramatic friends, before turning back to those at the door. She smiled when she noticed the sweet, dazed, look on the boy’s face. “Can we help you?” The question was left open, but her eyes did not leave the sharp angles of Louis’s face.

There wasn’t a response from him, though, or any of the children behind him. After a moment, Louis was prompted by his sister’s elbow digging into his side, “Hi.”

Behind him, Albus let out a silent groan, leaning into Scorpius’s shoulder to hide his face from viewing the wreckage in front of him. Frankie and Scorpius both hid their small smirks behind their hands. The Weasley’s were too funny.

Victoire wasn’t mute with her second-hand embarrassment, “Oh Merlin, Louis!” She pushed his back, moving him slightly out of her way, “Hi, I’m Victoire Weasley, this is Scorpius Malfoy, Frankie Zabini, and my cousin, Albus Potter.” The blonde gestured to those slightly behind her, then her cousin in front of her, “And this is my brother, Louis.”

Selene nodded, already knowing this – they were descendants of the most famous people in the wizarding world, and several people from her Hogwarts house. “We know.” There was an awkward silence, that no-one filled, so, “Can we help you, then?”

For a moment, Louis was filled with an odd desperation he’d never felt before. “I wanted to apologise! For earlier…” He looked away from her face, trying to grasp onto any semblance of sanity, after his outburst. Louis felt like his brain wasn’t working, or rather; it was working at nearly ten-percent of its usual capacity. “I shouldn’t have been standing in your way. I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt, that’s all!”

Selene Morgenstern wasn’t naïve, she knew the incident had been her entire fault. She’d been rushing, and barely managed to stutter out her apology, before she ran off. Her parents had teased her when she reached them, as running into the ‘saviours’ family wasn’t acceptable behaviour for a Morgenstern to have, but also not caring too much either. Louis, at that moment, reminded her of a young boy, talking to someone he admired greatly. He was nervous, avoiding eye-contact, and had trouble speaking to her. Plus, he’d come with back-up. So, Louis Weasley either fancied her, or he possibly arrived at her compartment to start a fight. The first was more likely.

“I’m fine.” Selene was quick to answer, if only to shorten this awkward meeting between the sweet blonde boy, and their voyeur friends. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not a fragile person!” The Morgenstern heir knew this wasn’t exactly true, as she was easily emotionally manipulated – but those ‘adopt-a-panda’ adverts were sad!

“Oh, okay!” Louis answered, looking both relieved that he hadn’t hurt his soulmate, and slightly sad that he didn’t really have a reason to stand there talking to her, now. “I-I guess I’ll see you around, then…” He trailed off, his eyes questioning whether what he said was the truth. Would he see her again?

Albus barely controlled himself from shouting; ‘of course you will, you daft hippogriff!’. They were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, in the same year! They shared so many classes, due to their teachers attempts to create ‘unity’. Albus kept it to himself, though, for now.

“Y-Yeah, I guess you will.” Only Selene’s close friends caught her slip, and all three looked at each other with glee. After all, the strong Slytherin only really stuttered when she was nervous… and why would Selene Morgenstern be nervous at the mere thought of seeing Louis Weasley, in the future? Hmm…

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen

[starveinsafety]

As requested, I’m releasing Part One of A Bargain of Lovers, my @mores2sl fic. Part Two can be found here. 

Post-WW2!AU - When Katniss gets let go from her job at the factory, the last person she wants to take anything from offers her a way out.

“I’m offering you the money with no obligations or owed debts,“ he sighs, “but if you’re so stubborn that you won’t let me help you, give me the one thing I want above all else…marry me.”

1946 - Panem

I freeze when I hear the first knock. It must be Cray, it has to be. Prim doesn’t get out of school for at least another hour and I can’t think of anybody else who would be coming around this time.

I try to stay as silent as possible. If he knows I’m home, he will never leave.

The pounding continues, only getting louder and louder until finally, the person behind the door speaks up. “Katniss,” another bang, “I know you’re in there. Come on, just let me in.”

In that moment, I wish it was Cray.

He doesn’t even bother to say hello. “Peeta—” I sigh, my eyes narrowing as I open the door ever so slightly.  “What are you doing here?”

Earlier That Day

Leevy is the first to go. Next comes Annie. One by one each of the girls at the rubber factory are fired, only to be replaced by a newly minted soldier a few weeks later.  

When Seneca Crane calls me into his office, I’m not even surprised.

“I’m your best worker,” I argue half-heartedly as he dismisses me, clutching the slim contents of my locker—a cardigan and a bundle of letters—to my chest. “We both know it.”

“Look, honey,” Crane sighs as he hurriedly signs my final paycheck, “the war is over. It’s time to find yourself a husband and settle down.”

I don’t respond, because in that moment I know there’s no point. I’m finished.

Crane rips the check from the deck and slides it across the desk. “There you go,” he says, waving me away. “Have a nice day, and can you call in Johanna on your way out?”

I don’t unfold the check until I’m halfway into the city. Pay to the order of Katniss Everdeen exactly twenty-seven dollars and seventy five cents.

I curse under her breath. Twenty seven dollars and seventy five cents? He’d stiffed me at least a dollar. God, I hope on whatever humanity is left in this world that Johanna is giving him hell right now.

Twenty seven dollars and seventy five cents. Where was that supposed to get me? I was already five hundred dollars in debt, and with Prim’s school fees and my landlord Cray...it wouldn’t be long before we were both out on the streets.

Jobs were hard to come by these days. For women, at least. It had been a good month since Leevy had been fired and she still hadn’t found work.

The tears fall before I can stop them. What was I supposed to tell Prim? How was I supposed to explain to a girl who had lost everything not three years ago that we were going to have nothing again?

On the off chance that he’s there, I try to wipe away the tell-tale signs of my distress in the reflection of a car window before heading into the bank.

The lady at the counter cashes my check without a word, her overdone hairdo bobbing up and down as she files the slip and hands me money. “Is there anything else you need help with today?” she monotonously parrots at me as I tuck what amounts to my life’s savings in the pocket of my skirt.

“I need a loan,” I squeak out.

The woman looks up at me, her eyes widening. “You’ll have to fill this out,” she says, reaching underneath her stand for a stack of paperwork and slapping it down on the counter. “Leave your account number on this slip, then fill out pages one through ten. You can expect a response in five to seven business.”

Five to seven business days? The rent was due in three and we barely had food in the cupboards.

Nevertheless, it was something and as my father had always said, beggars can’t be choosers.  It takes me a good thirty minutes to carefully fill out the paperwork, but when I’m done I bring it back to the counter and hand it back to the woman.

“I’m sorry,” she says, snatching the clipboard from me before I can even hand it over. “I ran your account number and it seems that you have three marks from previous missed payments.”

I stare blankly at her.

“They disqualify you from a loan,” she remarks snidely as she tosses my papers in the trash. “Maybe you could try another bank?”

If I wasn’t as drained as I am now, I’d laugh. “There’s nothing?” I ask her, an embarrassingly desperate edge to my voice. “I don’t qualify for anything?”

She shakes her head. “There’s nothing,” she confirms as she dismisses me. “Next!”

Present

“You applied for a loan at the bank,” he says as he pushes past me, barging into the room.

I brace my hand against the door-frame. “Yes,” I scowl at him. “I did. Now, do you mind telling me how you know about that?” Panem’s no New York City, but the bank is large enough that Peeta of all people shouldn’t be noticing my failed attempt at a loan.

“I kept an eye on you,” he admits with a sigh. “Look, Katniss, if you needed money you could have just come to me. You know that. Here,” he says, leaning against the kitchen table and pulling out his checkbook, “how much is it? How much do you need?”

My throat goes dry at his offer. “I can’t accept that from you,” I tell him, my eyes drifting towards the mostly stale bread on the counter. The last thing I want to do is end up being Peeta Mellark’s charity case.

He gives me that look, the sympathetic one I’ve always hated. “Are you really going to do this?” he asks with a shake of the head. “Come on, after everything...I just want to help, Katniss.”

“You should go,” I tell him. “I don’t have time for this.”

“The power’s out,” he remarks, nodding at the hum-less refrigerator and darkened lamp. I bite my lip, I had hoped it was early enough in the day that he wouldn’t notice. “Katniss,” he places a hand on my arm, “how long has this been going on?”

I shrug him off.  “What’s it to you?”

He lets out a heated scoff. “What’s it to me?” he says with the sharp raise of an eyebrow. “Good god, Katniss. After everything we’ve been through...how can you ask that?”

“Leave,” I snap at him, my voice cracking. “Leave, Peeta. Please.”

He takes a step towards the door, but not before reaching into his wallet and pulling out two crisp twenty dollar bills. “Here,” he says, placing them on the table, “you can pay me back if it really matters.”

“I don’t want your money, Peeta.”

He runs a hand through his hair and I’m brought back to an image of those blonde locks beneath my own fingers. “I know,” he says, “but what about Prim? Are you going to let your pride get the better of her as well?”

“Fuck off,” I spit at him, too angry at the use of my sister to see straight enough to slap him. “I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

For a moment he looks like he is going to cry. “I hate to break it to you,” he says with that fire I’d only seen in him once or twice, “but you can’t do everything. In fact, the only reason you are standing in this house is because I made allowances for you.”

“What?” I feel like I am going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I shouldn’t have told—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No,” I say, squaring my body against him. “Tell me, what did you do?”

He sighs, fiddling with the button of his suit jacket. “I erased some fines,” he admits, “gave you credit when it was against policy. If you had gone to the loan clerk at the desks they would have given you whatever you wanted.”

“How much?” I ask him. My body feels raw. “I need to know so that I can pay you back. I can’t give it to you now, but if you give me some time—”

“It’s not something that you can—or need— to pay back.” He places a hand on my jaw, his thumb pressing gently into my cheek. “Just let me help you, Katniss. For old time’s sake.”

My mouth is on his before he even has the chance to breathe. He falls into it instantly, his hand resting against my head as I pull on his collar, my back pressing against the counter’s edge.

His fingers pull at the bottom of my shirt, his teeth scraping my neck as if on instinct. I feel him pressing up against me as I sigh into his shoulder.

“Come upstairs,” I tell him, breaking the kiss and tugging at his arm.

It’s the only thing I can give him, the only way I can repay him for what he’s done, for the forty dollars on the table I know I am going to have to accept.

He freezes in realization, the heat of his body still pressed against me. “What are you doing, Katniss?”

I blink at him. “Don’t you want me?” I ask.

His eyes widen and he takes a step away from me. “I’m not going to let you, oh god, prostitute yourself to me.”

“I-I just figured,” I reach out for him, “you always liked it before and you know I can’t accept this from you, not without giving something in return.”

He stares at me for a moment, his hands gripping the rim of the table.  “Marry me.”

It comes out of nowhere. “What?” I sputter.

“I’m offering you the money with no obligations or owed debts," he sighs, "but if you’re so stubborn that you won’t let me help you, give me the one thing I want above all else...marry me."

“You’re being cruel, Peeta,” my voice shakes as I speak.

His blue eyes lock with my grey ones. “You agreed to be my wife once before when the situation allowed for it. How is this any different?”

He’s dangerously close to a subject neither of us want to discuss. “Don’t, Peeta. Just…” I trail off.

“No,” he says, his eyes flitting upward. “Listen, If you’re going to do this, I’d rather make you my wife than my whore. Let me help you, help Prim. We both know this isn’t just this one delayed payment. You’re in serious debt, Katniss. You won’t be able to keep this place afloat for much longer.”

I shake my head at him. “I’ll survive. We’ll survive. We always have.”

He forces a smile. “Whatever you say, Katniss.” He glances up at the clock. “Take some time to think about it. Look, whatever’s happened, I really do care for you. If it ever gets to be too much my offer’s always on the table, marriage or not.”

He pauses before silently slipping out the door.

Even with Peeta’s forty dollars I don’t have enough for all the back-owed rent. When Cray comes around that Thursday, I’m prepared to get my eviction notice.

“I don’t have everything,” I admit, running out to catch him as he makes rounds at the house next door.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, his eyes scanning the length of me. “That man of yours already sent the check,” he huffs a tobacco filled cough at me and winks. “Finally putting that body of yours to good use, I see.”

I’m at Peeta’s door before the next trolley comes around. “Mr. Mellark’s—” Sae starts, but I’m already moving into the hallway and towards his office by the time she finishes her sentence.

If it was anybody else, she’d call the police.

“Who do you think you are?” I seethe as I slam open the door. I try not to think about what we’ve done at the desk he sits behind.

His eyes widen at the sight of me. “Katniss,” he says, only half-bothering to fake innocence, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You paid off Cray! I had it handled, Peeta.” I scowl at him. “I told you that.”

He raises his voice at me for the second time that week. “You hadn’t paid your rent in three months. You call that handled, Katniss?”

My lip wavers for a moment. “It’s my problem,” I tell him with an air of false bravado. “Not yours.”

He sets his paperwork aside and takes a moment to look at me. “I know what he does to girls who...who, I couldn’t stand the thought of his hands on you.”

I lean over the desk. “I’m not yours to worry about—I don’t need your help, Peeta. I can’t pay you back right now, but I will eventually, you can hold me to that.”

A silence falls over the room.

“What is it going to take?” Peeta asks after a moment, his fingers rubbing against his temple. “What is it going to take for you to just accept my money?”

I think about it for a moment. About marrying Peeta, about what I’d give up to make sure I never see that same hollowness in Prim’s cheeks.

“Stay out of my life,” I tell him as I turn for the door. “I mean it this time.”

The next couple of weeks go by uneventfully. Peeta obeys—there are no more payments to Cray as far as I can tell—and we get by for the time being.

But as the week fades into the next, things start getting tight. I read through the newspaper every day, but it only seems like they are hiring veterans. Even Johanna has a hard time finding work. Then, before any of us get jobs, Annie announces that she is engaged to her childhood sweetheart.

I break one night at dinner. I only have seventy five cents left of my last paycheck, and the next month of rent is going to be due in less than two weeks.

We split a small roll of bread and a watery soup for dinner. It’s the only meal either of us will get for a while, and we both know it.

“Here,” Prim says, pushing her plate at me.  “I’m not that hungry. You should eat, you won’t find a job looking half-starved.”

I feel like crying. Haven’t I used that same tactic on her before? Told her I wasn’t hungry, given my food to Prim even though I hadn’t eaten a solid meal in days? I stare down at the chunk of bread in my hand. If I don’t do something soon, Prim’s going to end up as wasted away as I am.

“No,” I say, pressing my piece into her lap, “I’ll be fine.” I go to stand up, grabbing our shared coat from the hook on the door and buttoning it up with one hand.

“I have to do something,” I say, ignoring her protests. “Don’t wait up.”

I can’t just take Peeta’s money, not when I know it would be out of sympathy and a past spent in his bed. Not when I know I can give him something he wants.

Besides, it’s not like I have plans of marrying anybody else. If I give myself to Peeta, I know Prim will never have to give up the things I did. She can have a childhood, a future...

“Okay,” I tell him as I walk into his office. “I’ll take your deal.”

He practically chokes on his own incredulity. “You’ll what?” he asks with a cock of the head.

“I will marry you, fair and square.” I look down at the size too big brown dress I’m wearing. “Personally, I think it’s a terrible deal but if that’s what you want, I’m willing to give it to you on a few conditions.”

“Katniss,” he places his reading glasses on the desk, “you don’t have to do this, I can give you the money and we can both part ways. You don’t have to give your life away to me when we both know you don’t really want to.”

“I won’t have a life if I don’t do this. Please, Peeta, I can’t take anything from you without giving something in return. Unless...you never really wanted to—” I freeze. “I’m sorry, this was stupid, I didn’t really think…”

“No, wait, Katniss,” he stops me as I reach for the door, his voice softening. “The offer stands, okay? It always stands, no matter which way you’ll take me.”

I pause. “You haven’t even heard my conditions.”

He smiles softly at me. “Then what are they?”

“The first one,” I lean against the door, my empty stomach a constant reminder of my position, “the most important one, is no kids. I can’t do that, Peeta, no matter how much you want them.” Not after everything that happened, I silently add.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ll give up on having children that easily? But Peeta, you’ve always wanted them…”

“It’s fine,” he says dismissively, “you’ll be my family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Tell me, what other conditions do you have?”

I falter, I hadn’t expected him to concede on that first one. I’d thought I had given myself an out. “Oh,” I sputter. “We can’t tell Prim that all of this is arranged. It would break her heart, you know, and I just can’t do that to her.”

“No,” he gives me a patient, diplomatic smile, “of course not. Anything else?”

I rub my hands against my legs as I try to muster up the courage to ask the one thing that’s been nagging at me. “You still love me, don’t you?”

“Always.” He gives me a sad smile. “I never stopped.”

Author’s Note: Later parts of this story will be posted to my tumblr account, starveinsafety.

Author’s Note: I know what you’re thinking, another historical arranged marriage story? But seriously, this has been a draft in my books for a long time and I didn’t want to make it a 20 chapter fic, so I’ve been saving it for S2SL. Let me know if you liked it and/or want more!!