#(IN OTHER NEWS. might not post something tomorrow (i have been without a buffer for.... multiple days now oops)

[blaiddraws]

wHAT THE FUCK

#LEMME TELL YOU. last night i was giggling and laughing evilly to myself like. >:3c #KNOWING this post would make people freak out #answered #not art #placeholder au #(IN OTHER NEWS. might not post something tomorrow (i have been without a buffer for.... multiple days now oops) #AND updates may slow down‚ as school starts in a couple days)

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Shadow Play, Part 1

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This came out of some discussion I’d had talking about Izaya either pretending to drink with someone and them getting inadvertently wasted while was fine or having super high alcohol tolerance despite being so lean/slim. Originally it had a darker tone to it, but evolved into this. Oh well, I still like it.Broken into two chapters. Technically, you’ll miss some explanation/lead-up if you skip this first part, but you can skip it if you want just the sex/teasing. PART TWO

Summary Reader - an info broker from another city - arranges a meeting with Ikebukuro's infamous human-loving informant to discuss a truce to do some business in the area. Izaya invites them to share a drink with him to lighten the atmosphere. They soon discover the informant is very skilled at playing pretend, as well as getting more than he was first offered.

Tags/Warnings

Consensual Sex, Creampie, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Fingerfucking, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

Shadow Play, Part 1: Dangerous Game (F! Reader/Izaya Orihara)

You took a deep breath, punching in the digits of the phone number you had acquired. Working yourself up to call the number had been more of an effort than getting it. Ordinarily calling some stranger you had never spoken to for business was a simple task, if inconvenient, thanks to having to learn someone new and their unique behaviors. With as infamous as the owner of the phone number was, and as widespread as his business was, getting the number had been easy, only requiring persuading the right person. 

Speaking with the owner would be an entirely different ordeal, though, because of that same notoriety. You would need to tread carefully. A text might have been an easier method, sure. But you were going to have to speak with him face-to-face later, one way or another, so you may as well get it over with and pick up on any extra pieces of useful information you could.

You tapped the ‘call’ button and waited, tapping a finger impatiently on the side of the cellphone pressed to your ear. The line rang once, twice, three times. By the time someone picked up the phone on the fourth ring, accompanied by a vague pop of static, you were frowning. “Yes?” A pleasant sounding voice floated out from the cellphone’s speak and you reminded yourself to relax. This was nothing but more business.

“Izaya Orihara?” You asked briefly.

“You’re speaking to him.” The answer was smooth, confident. You imagined he was used to random people calling him. “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” There was something mischievous in his tone, light and cheery, but warning one to proceed cautiously all the same.

You answered, trying to reflect his carefree manner, providing him with the pseudonym you preferred to use. As far as you knew, with clients, he proudly used his real name, something that to you sounded rather careless. Most you would have labeled foolish for such a choice, but in this case, it was obvious it was confidence. His reputation cast a wide net, and he had made enemies in addition to those people who used his services. If he was truly a fool, some accident would surely have happened to him by now. The fact he was still alive and well was evidence enough he wasn’t no fool.

Izaya paused, then repeated the name as if to better store away the new information. The sudden intrusive thought of what your actual name would sound like in his dulcet rudely interrupted your focus. You held back the urge to physically shake the thought away, settling for crinkling your nose at the absurd idea. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about something like that. You doubted you would have been the first lulled and lured in by his pleasant voice. Mentally scolding yourself, you were reminded you couldn’t afford to fall to someone else’s charms when it was supposed to be your job to do just the same.

“And what can I do for you?”

The question drew you from your unwelcome reverie, forcing you to recall the reason you had chanced to call someone like Izaya Orihara while knowing of his reputation for having a rather devious silver tongue. “I’m new in town and we’re in the same line of word,” you stared, successfully sounding level and confident. “I’d like to sit down and have a, ah, heart-to-heart. Make sure I’m not stepping on any toes.” You tried to make it sound as if you were granting him some favor or courtesy, hoping he was unaware of just how easily he could any hopes for the intentions you had of doing business in the area. “You can choose the time and place, it’s only fair.”

There was another pause, and you almost swore you heard a pensive hum from the other side of the call. “Alright. I’ll text you the information this call is over,” he decided, sound still as if he hadn’t a care in the world, casual and a little smug.

“Good. I think it’s done now then.” You drew the phone away, snapping it shut and ending the call. Maybe it had been rude, but you had said all that was needed without a face-to-face meeting. You didn’t think he would take it personally.

Slipping your phone into your pocket while you waited for his text, you grimaced. Only then were you allowed to notice how your heart pounded against your chest. You clenched a fist, cursing these new nerves. It was your job to remain cool and collected under a variety of circumstances, even when dealing with those of widely hailed infamy and menace. That was how the underground worked. Yet just speaking with Izaya Orihara over the phone had made you unsure and uneasy. Maybe his reputation of being so skillfully able to manipulate others was what rattled you.

Whatever the reasons were, it frustrated you all the same. Your heart jumped more forcefully when your pocket buzzed loudly. You withdrew the cellphone again, flipping it open. You took in the address and time printed boldly on the bright screen, accompanied by some trite remark about how he ‘couldn’t wait’.

You sighed heavily. You had until tomorrow morning to bolster your nerve and get your thumping heart under control.

When you arrived at the apartment door in the high-class building in Shinjuku, you ensured it was precisely the time in the text. Your punctuality alone likely told Orihara more than he needed to know to begin with. Though you hardly wanted to seem over eager by showing up earlier, or disrespectful by wasting his time being late. Rapping firmly, but calmly on the door in the unassuming, empty hallway, you waited.

It was only a minute before the door swung open, a slender man filling the doorway. Izaya Orihara looked even more pleasant than he sounded. He possessed a face and frame somewhere between handsome and pretty, and already you were warning yourself not to let your eyes drift from the over-confident grin on his face. Seeing him, you were fully convinced part of Izaya’s charm was based on his good looks alone.

After all, people were much happier being tricked by beautiful people than the alternative. If he had the sharp tongue and wit to match his good looks, he well-deserved his infamy.

“Ah, right on time. I appreciate someone punctual,” he greeted cheerily. He moved to the side, gesturing inward to the apartment, which even from the doorway you noted was as lavish as expected from the building exterior. “Come right in, make yourself at home.”

You wonder if he treated all of his business like this. His air was more of one welcoming a friend than the cordial sort reserved for work. Was he always so warm and casual? Or was he putting on on a show to convince you to like him more and let down your guard? It was hard to say for sure, given you had spoken to him only once before, and beyond that all you had was research and hearsay. That research had taught you plenty, but there was no finer research than studying someone in person up close. But that knowledge was a double-edged sword, and a razor sharp one at that. You were on display for Izaya to learn about and analyze, maybe even more so than he was for you.

You gave your thanks and stepped inside the apartment, following him after he shut the door and swept past the entry to a black leather sectional surrounding a coffee table in the center.At first, you studied the apartment interior as surreptitiously as possible, searching for any information that might make your meeting more beneficial to you. But bookshelves and potted plants told you nothing, save that he enjoyed psychology and anthropology. That was a given for someone in a line of work so closely tied to people, though. The long ‘S’-shaped desk with several computers atop it told you nothing as well, as did the floor-to-ceiling glass windows offering a breathtaking view to the city below.

“Seems business treats you well,” you commented absently.

Izaya sounded amused by your rather obvious insight. “Oh, what makes you say that?: He asked playfully, feigning naivety.

“Call it a hunch,” you answered, continuing the game of pretend.

Face still plastered with the same self-satisfied, close-lipped smile, Izaya gestured to the leather sectional. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

You looked for a second over at his desk, stopping on the chairs on either side of it, obviously the typical setting for a business meeting. But you didn’t protest, moving to one of the cushions and sitting down, folding your hands in your lap primly.

Expecting Izaya to sit across from you, leaving the coffee table between you as a comfortable buffer, you were thrown off when he sat down on the cushion beside you. One hand lay on the armrest, while the other draped across the back of the couch, fingertips hanging down the back. Your brows knit for a moment at just how absurdly casual the man next to behaved, before reminding yourself to wipe your internal train of thought from your face. You didn’t need to give him any handicaps in the mental game you knew the two of you were already playing.

“Comfortable?” He asked.

“Yes?” You cursed the questioning tone that came out in your answer. Why did it matter if you were comfortable? It wasn’t as if this was some pleasure trip.

Izaya eased back into his seat, crossing one leg over the other, clearly unthreatened by your presence and very in his element. You told yourself again to keep your eyes level with his sharp brown gaze. To not dip lower and follow the curve of his arm slung over the couch or the hard, yet delicate lines of his collarbone peeking out of his neckline. ‘No respect for personal space, I see,’ you wondered silently. ‘Or is he doing it on purpose to put me off?’

“Now, what was it you wanted to discuss? Something about ‘not stepping on toes’?” His tone gave you pause. Once more you had to wonder if he all business like this. Polite, but not seeming very serious or interested by the idea.

“I, uh, yes,” you confirmed dumbly, wincing on the inside at the stumble in speech. He seemed to wait for you to continue, so you carried on. “I heard Ikebukuro was a very exciting place to be,” you explained, trying to shake off the air of awkwardness. “Things were getting boring at home, so I thought I’d take a trip and try my luck elsewhere a bit more… interesting. But then your name started coming an awful lot.” You weren’t being completely straight with him, of course. Business had come up in the area that had drawn your attention to Ikebukuro, but the last thing you needed was Izaya knowing you already had something riding on the meetings outcome to give him more leverage.

“Did it? And what did you learn? All good things, I hope?” Izaya sounded far too please, and you were positive he knew what his reputation looked like and how many thought of him as rather dangerous.

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” You deflected. You would not give him any extra information if you could help it. “What matters is I know you’re the man to see when it comes to intel in this area. S-so it seemed only polite to have a little chat before I made any plans,” you finished with a shrug, trying again to give the sense this was all a formality or courtesy to him. You could only hope he missed the way some of your words wavered.

Izaya considered you with a narrow, hawk-like gaze as you spoke, perfectly content to listen as you went on. Here and there you thought you saw his lips quirk up a hair. “How thoughtful of you.” There was a vague condescension in his voice that you resented immediately. “And what were you planning on doing if I didn’t like the idea of you intruding on my stage?” He asked lightly, the condescension vanishing.

“Well, to s-start, I--,” you began, but Izaya stopped you.

What’s the problem? You seem nervous,” he noted, and this time you saw his grin grow for sure.

“N-no, just a bit tired, that’s all,” you quickly lied. “You of all people should understand how exhausting this line of work can be,” you added.

“Exhausting? Oh, no,” he denied happily, “I find it invigorating,” he countered. “Why don’t you excuse me for a minute, I’ve got just the thing to help,” Izaya offered, getting to his feet without waiting for a response.

“Oh, no, no need to go to trouble for me. Let’s just get back to our talk, alright?” You tried to convince him. The quicker everything was settled, the better. You hadn’t need for more of his ‘hospitality’.

But he seemed dead set on the idea. “Can’t talk business if you’re too tired to pay attention, can we? Wouldn’t want to misunderstand anything,” Izaya argued.

”Alright,” you conceded.

He left for a moment, leaving you to sit in awkward silence on the sectional, waiting for him to return. In the meantime, you intended to collect yourself, unhappy to find your heart was thundering in your chest again like a stampeding beast, and your throat was dry. You hated that one man had somehow uprooted your typically collected facade - without hardly trying even. It frustrated you more not being able to put a finger on why either. Was it his looks? No, you had done business with attractive people before. The soothing sound of his voice? His reputation? None of those alone should have caused so much distress. Was it simply the perfect storm once it was all put together?

When Izaya returned, he carried two opaque mugs of something steaming. He passed one to you before making himself comfortable on the cushion beside you once more. You offered him a quick ‘thank you’ before taking the mug, but couldn’t help eyeing the warm liquid inside suspiciously. It seemed to be the same as whatever you had glimpsed in Izaya’s, but was it safe?

“Don’t worry, it’s not poison or anything,” Izaya reassured you, though there was something about his smile now that had the opposite effect. “Something like that would any fun, would it?” He added, his smile wider, showing a hint of teeth.

You lifted your eyes to meet his, still skeptical as he raised his own mug to his lips and took a sip. “Besides, if I wanted to get rid of you, don’t you think I’d have arranged for us to meet somewhere that isn’t where I live? Clean up is such a pain, you know.” You suppressed a shudder at how carefree he sounded talking about getting rid of someone, as if the only regret in the process was how tedious the aftermath was.

He was right, though. If he wanted you dead, you imagined you would have already been six feet under before the morning of the meeting. Giving the drink in your hand a final glance and, wrinkling your nose at the bitter scent wafting off it, you raised it to your lips. This time full-bodied and it burned vaguely, more than from the temperature. The smell of green tea blended with the undertone of some alcohol - whiskey or bourbon, you thought - and the taste was much the same. It was stronger than it smelled though. You tried to play off your expression of distaste for the drink. “Now can we get back to the point, please?” You insisted prettily.

Izaya nodding, raising his drink again and tipping the mug toward his lips. You mirrored the motion, but took a smaller drink than the first. “Gladly. But you never said what it was you were after,” he reminded you.

“Ah, r-right.” Your short explanation before hadn’t been enough. “I want to set up some business in Ikebukuro for a little while,” you declared.

“And?” He raised his mug again, and again you followed suit.

“I want your word you won’t butt into any of it, if I don’t butt into yours,” Your words came out more clipped than intended.

“I’m not seeing how that arrangement benefits me at all,” he mused. “This is my playground, after all, so tell me what I get in return. Promising not to meddle in my affairs isn’t enough when you’re already intruding,” Izaya insisted. “Not that I’d let you butt in anyway,” he added, and the smile he gave you then was no longer warm and welcoming, but cold and empty.

You made a show of considering what you could offer him. “A favor, anything you liked,” you announced finally. “I may not be infamous here, but I’ve got my own connections elsewhere I’m sure you’d find useful,” you boasted, trying to sound smug.

“Oh? Anything? Are you sure you want to give some infamous like me such an open-ended promise?” You didn’t miss the emphasis in the sentence.

You raised an eyebrow. “I trust whatever favor is most beneficial to you, I can manage,” you claimed. You knew the dangers of such a vague promise, sure, but you knew the game as well. Secrets and connections were almost always more valuable than physical debts or favors. “So, I get to do what I want, and I owe you one favor. Deal?” You pressed, feeling more confident, even if your heart was still thudding too wildly for your liking. 

Perhaps the drink was more helpful than you thought. You took another sip at the thought, and this time Izaya raised his own in reflection. You told yourself the warmth blossoming in your chest was the fault of the drink as well.

“Deal.” You didn’t like the sense of no going back that came with the way Izaya said that single word. But there was no regretting your choices now. You had the distinct feeling Izaya wasn’t the type who appreciated someone backing out of an agreement. “You can do whatever it is you came to Ikebukuro to do.” Izaya was silent for a moment, the atmosphere feeling strangely heavy. “But do be careful,” he warned, tone almost musical, “I can’t have you showing me up when it comes to my little humans.”

His humans? What did he mean by that? “Ah, sure, I’ll keep that in mind,” you agreed hesitantly, confused. You took another drink from the mug to distract you.

“Anything else you need to discuss while you’ve got my attention?” Izaya asked brightly.

“N-no, I… I’ve got everything under control,” you said, though you found the words came out slower, heavier, as if your tongue was half made of lead.

“Take care then. Maybe get some rest; you don’t sound so good, my dear,” Izaya observed, standing once more and looking down at you.

You shook your head stubbornly, placing your nearly empty mug on the coffee table beside you and moving to stand as well. To your dismay, when you stood, your legs wobbled, dizziness seizing you, and you lurched forward. Instead of crashing headfirst into the table or the floor, a solid warmth and the soft touch of fabric met you. A warm pressure rested over your shoulders on either side. Your lips stretching in an uneasy expression, you redirected your eyes from the floor with a shaky breath.

They landed on Izaya’s mug, sitting on the table alongside yours. It was still full to just below the rim, untouched, and a queasy feeling flickered through your gut.

#izaya orihara #durarara!! #writing #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #weekly fic #update #nsft #n/s/f/w #tw: alcohol

[iwantthedean]

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Seven: Cameo. Firm, sweet. 

Summary: A surprise visitor comes to the farm, and the festival weekend wraps up; Y/N chooses an offer.     Pairing: Jensen x Reader Word Count: 1678 Warnings: Set post-Season 15, which I know makes a lot of people sad to think about. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my proposal square for BTZ Bingo.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support! I am loving writing this series :) 

Masterlist

Your front door opening and closing the next morning pulled you from a comfortable sleep. You drew in a deep breath and huddling closer to Jensen, who had fallen asleep with you on your large, cushy couch.

Jensen tightened his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead; you momentarily forgot about the door. You leaned into him and sighed.

“I’ve got to get up and get ready for today,” you announced. “Lots of families will still come before the afternoon is over.”

“Lots to get ready.”

The voice didn’t belong to Jensen, and it caused you to shoot up from where you were laying. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

Your father smiled as you came to hug him. “Good morning, Y/N/N. After your call last week, I decided I wanted to try and catch at least the last day of the festival. This was the soonest I could catch a flight. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Oh, no, um …” You stumbled as Jensen folded the blanket that had been covering the two of you and draped it over the back of the couch. “We were here late talking and -- it just -- well, anyway. Dad, this is Jensen Ackles. He’s potentially buying the place.”

Your father shook hands with Jensen. “Ah, I see. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise, sir,” Jensen replied, just as amused as your father with your stumbling composure. “I need to get back to the hotel and get cleaned up, but I’ll come back for the activities.”

He kissed your forehead again and then was gone. You turned to your father who was wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, Dad! Cut it out. Coffee? What time did you get in?”

“Late last night. Staying with your uncle. Coffee would be great.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and got the coffee pot started, then put a pan of cinnamon rolls in the oven to warm while you freshened up and at least changed your clothes. Though you knew that you had some explaining to do for how your father had found you when he came into the house, and there was a lot to discuss about the farm, you couldn’t help but think only about kissing Jensen the night before.

* * * * *

After he got cleaned up, Jensen made a stop at The Farmer’s Market before going back to Y/N’s place. He didn’t buy anything, but he did want to greet Ms. Kitty.

“I was just curious, since I’m considering buying the orchard, if I could get a copy of the sales records from the last year or so.”

Ms. Kitty smiled, bigger than Jensen would have expected. “Of course. Hang tight, I’ll get them for you.”

Jensen waited patiently while she went to the office and returned with the same file he had peeked into the morning before. He looked at Ms. Kitty who was busying herself with another customer. Tilting his head to the side, he called out a thanks and went back to his car. He dropped the file on the passenger seat and made way for the farm.

Once there, he let himself into the house. Mr. Y/L/N was washing the breakfast dishes. Jensen waved a hello, feeling more self-conscious than he had that morning. Without Y/N as a buffer, he felt like a high school kid who got caught going too far with the other man’s daughter.

“Y/N’s upstairs, getting dressed. I was waiting, having another cup of coffee, but I’m not much for sitting still.”

“Must be where Y/N gets it from,” Jensen commented. He cleared his throat and took the file from under his arm, sliding it across the counter. “I asked Kitty over at the market for a copy of the sales records for the farm, since I have an offer on the place. She gave me this. I was trying to decide if I should show it to Y/N or not. Maybe you could take a look at it first.”

Mr. Y/L/N gave Jensen a curious frown before drying his hands and sliding the file in front of him. He opened the folder; it only took a few seconds for his countenance to confirm what Jensen had suspected.

“And Kitty handed this over willingly?”

Jensen nodded. “She did. Hell, she handed it over enthusiastically.”

Mr. Y/L/N looked over the numbers for a while longer. Finally, he closed the folder and handed it back back to Jensen. “Do me a favor, hang on to that. Don’t mention it to Y/N. Call Bartholomew first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I planned on it. Except for the not telling Y/N part.”

“I know that seems underhanded, probably, but I don’t want to give her any reason to have hope -- nothing against your offer, of course.”

“Of course,” Jensen said. The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to have her hopes rise, only to watch them break again. “I’m gonna put this in the car, then I’ll be back in.”

Mr. Y/L/N thanked Jensen for his discretion and finished up with the dishes. When Jensen returned, Y/N was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, tying up her boots. She smiled at his presence; Jensen’s smile grew at hers.

* * * * *

You watched Jensen help a kid get a pumpkin off the vine, and smiled. Your father stood next to you, nudging your side gently with his elbow.

“He’s crazy about you, I think.”

You smiled. “He’s not so bad. I like being around him.”

“Sure it’s not just because if you take his offer, he’ll let you be involved in the activities around her?”

“I thought about that,” you said, drawing in a deep breath, “but I don’t think that’s it. Jensen, he was this quiet surprise, but I think the timing is good. A good distraction while everything else falls apart.”

Your dad chuckled. “Nothing is falling apart, Y/N. These things happen -- it’s the times we live in. Have you thought about what you’ll do after the sale?”

“I’ll find a house around here. There’s one over on Roosevelt that I’ve always liked that is up for sale. It’ll need some updates, but I’ll have time on my hands. I just figure I might be better off waiting for this sale to go into motion.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Which offer would you take, Dad?”

He tilted his head from side to side. “I think I know which offer you’re leaning towards, and I think I would do the same. I think your grandfather would, too, for whatever that’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot.” Tears were welling in your eyes, but you refused to cry.

Until your father put an arm around your shoulders and squeezed. You blinked quickly, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. You wiped at them quickly, refusing to let any of the kids or families see you cry. As you’d been saying, this was your problem, not anyone else’s.

“Maybe -- maybe you need to separate from this place for a while, Y/N. Maybe you should consider coming out West with me. You don’t have to live with me, but it might be nice to have a completely fresh start.”

You weren’t in the mood to argue, so you nodded. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

Your dad squeezed your shoulder again and went to help one of the farmhands. You watched him walk away; you could think about it for a hundred years, but you knew that nothing would take you away from this place.

* * * * *

After everything was cleaned up and the visitors were all gone, including your father back to your uncle’s house, you sat on the front steps, wrapped in the same blanket you and Jensen had slept under the night before. He came out from the house and handed you a mug of apple cider.

“Did you forget that you started this on the stove?” he asked.

You sipped from the mug and nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry -- thanks for watching it for me. I’m lost in thought, I guess.”

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

You took another sip of apple cider. “If I tell you that I’m gonna take your offer, will you still want me in the morning?”

Jensen set his mug to the side and took your face in his hands. He kissed you softly. “Y/N. I thought when I left Texas, that I was coming here to look at the farm, to decide if I want to buy it. To decide what the next big thing in my life after the show ended. I thought I was coming here for the farm, but really, I think I was coming here for you.”

You couldn’t help it. You were too overwhelmed with emotions. Sadness over losing the only place that had been stable in your life, but happiness over having someone like Jensen in your life. Mix in some confusion over the first thing ending and the second thing being too new to know that it was going to last, and you were one crying mess.

The man sitting next to you took the mug from your hands and set it next to his. He scooted closer to you on the step and wrapped his arms around you. He promised that he would never betray the legacy of the farm your family left behind, and that he would do all that he could to make sure none of that interfered with your relationship, wherever it was headed.

“It’s like you read my mind,” you sniffled. Leaning against his flannel-covered chest was such a comfort.

Jensen kissed you again. “I took a guess at what your worries might be. What do you say we finish these ciders, then go in and watch a movie or something? Or I can go back to the hotel. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“A movie,” you replied, taking a deep breath and wiping your tears. “Definitely a movie.”

* * * * *

The Whole Shebang: @illisea @ashleymalfoy @busybee612 @mrswhozeewhatsis @sherlock44 @ravenesque @feelmyroarrrr @atc74  @theplaidshirtmadness  @blacktithe7 @moonlessnight14 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @smoothdogsgirl  @melbrandes  @xtina2191 @spnbaby-67 @emoryhemsworth @goldenolaf25 @gabriels-trix @applesugar88 @rainflowermoon @deansgirl215 @thisismysecrethappyplace @calaofnoldor @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @sleepylunarwolf @chances-and-miracles @sandlee44 @foxyjwls007

Jack Attack: @tiffanycaruso @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Two for the Money:  @jayankles @akshi8278 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @supernatural-jackles @adoptdontshoppets​

A New Fall: @marilynnlew​ @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​ @traceyaudette​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @maddiepants​ @littlewhiterose​ @tftumblin​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @pinknerdpanda​ @thatgirl1456​ @deangirl7695​ @woodworthti666​ @writtingrose​ @flamencodiva​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @cap-just-said-language​ @xstephxo​

#supernatural #fanfiction #jensen #jensen ackles #reader #reader insert #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #fluff #jensen fluff #jensen ackles fluff #jensen x reader fluff #jensen ackles x reader fluff #autumn fluff #a new fall #part 7 #cameo #iwantthedeanupdates #iwantthedean's tag team #all my lovelies #that's my queue

[haikyuu-philia]

HQ!! Secret Santa 2019 - Sent via Mistletoe Post

A/N: Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone!! This post is dedicated to, made for and inspired by the lovely person that I got to be Secret Santa for - @oinkawater <3 Everything was organised by the awesome @supern-a-vengers, thank you so much! 

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Sent via Mistletoe Post | A Personalized Semi x Reader Oneshot

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„I wished you could be here for Christmas.“

Semi gritted his teeth at the mere thought of how sad you would sound, if you had said that directly to his face. The message on the screen made his heart ache in a way which he had never imagined before meeting you. But he knew it was just a matter of time for the pain to go away again.

„Seriously, I miss you so much.“

Fate decided to not have any mercy with him. His fingers hovered above the keyboard to type a reply and nearly chose to let the whole idea blow up. Weeks of planning, including taking way too many shifts at the café, would go to waste with it.

It hurt. It physically hurt him to read your texts. 

For a moment he had to put his phone at the table to brush his trembling hands through his hair. One message would be enough to make you smile again, three tiny words.

Though he didn’t plan on actually sending them. In less than 48 hours everything would be fine, you would be fine. So he took a deep breath before replying to you to keep up the facade.

Your present will arrive on Christmas morning. Look forward to it!

Well, this wasn’t an actual lie. Something would be there then, but nothing that you were expecting. At least he was hoping so.

And for now the effect seemed to kick in like he had planned to. Finally you were sending emojis again and you started to randomly write in capital letters of excitement to guess what your present might be. Semi cracked a smile at the screen.

If he hadn’t already prepared something, he would have a dozen of ideas today. 

With a small groan he rubbed his eyes that were demanding a break. The printer rattled next to the boy, which instantly reminded him of a thousand reasons why he wasn’t allowed to go to bed yet. Tomorrow might be even worse with all those things that he had to deal with before the mission could start.

After he had reached for the slightly warm piece of paper, he nevertheless informed you about going to bed soon.

Looking at the printed timetable Semi couldn’t help it but sigh for the approximately thirtieth time this day. The price of living this far away from you to attend his dream university sucked sometimes.

At the same time he received your goodnight-text, wishing you nice dreams and a comfortable rest. 

„Do it for Thea,“ he whispered while smiling at the picture he had set as his background. „Do it for her.“

When he finally had collected all the necessary papers he retreated into his dorm room. On the bed a halfway filled suitcase was waiting for him to finish packing. 

In the morning the last thing he put into it, happened to be a little plushie - A bear holding a bright red heart which had ‚Good luck‘ written on it in golden yarn. This cute guy had been your parting present for him when he had to leave you behind on the other side of the airport security for the first time. He remembered how you had hugged him until the last second.

Attaching the keychain to his backpack didn’t come to his mind as it might fall off, get stained or messed up in some other way. Not an option for Semi.

Before he closed the suitcase he gave the bear a light squeeze. You were with him all the time, no matter how far away you actually lived. 

„See you soon, little one.“ Even he himself wasn’t sure, if he had been talking to the plushie or to your spirit inside of it.

To the airport by train, then through security and to his gate, resting during the flight, grabbing his luggage before boarding the bus to the station near your dormitory on the campus of Tokyo University - All of that sounded so easy. Stressful, but easy and manageable.

It was, until Semi was actually sitting at his assigned seat in the plane. In his opinion the boarding had been fast earlier, maybe too fast. 

Ever since the announcement that boarding was completed had been made, nothing had changed. Minute by minute passed while Semi recalculated his time buffer over and over again. 

„Ladies and Gentleman, this is your captain.“ Instantly he sat up straight, ignoring his heavy eyelids. „Due to a current snow storm in Tokyo we will have to remain at this gate. We will start approximately 45 minutes late.“

The not-so-soft backrest collided with his back as he suppressed a bad word from slipping out of his mouth. Of course there had to be the first snow storm in years when he was about to fly there. Such a typical karma-move. 

He fingered his phone out of his pocket to connect it with the power bank he had brought with him. Just in case that you would text him like you usually would on a free day.

The moment it began charging, the screen lighted up to reveal his background picture. In order to not attract weird questions the lock screen was a plain standard one. But once he had unlocked his phone, one of his favourite pictures would pop up.

You smiling into the camera, holding up a sign that said I love you in your handwriting. 

A week after you had had to go different ways at the airport last year, the message had arrived to cheer him up. Nevertheless the first days in a completely new area had been stressful for him. 

Only a few more hours, then he would be able to finally feel your warmth in his arms. He caught himself grinning at the screen like an idiot in the reflection. That was how far you had managed to push him out of his snail shell - To blush in freaking public because he had been thinking about a hug.

And yet the process of getting together with you had been long. So freaking long.

In the end Tendou had been so heavily annoyed by Semi not making a stupid move to settle the redhead’s OTP that he unceremoniously had locked the two of you in a storage room. A pretty dark and small storage room to specify it.

„Why exactly did he lock us in here?“ You had said while he had tried to put his hands somewhere without accidentally touching you. 

Staying calm hadn’t happened to be the easiest task as you were practically standing just a few inches away. At the same time his idea to distract himself had consisted of creating plans to kill Tendou as soon as he would get out of this place.

But it had gotten worse. 

Out of nowhere Tendou had screamed from the other side of the door: „How about our dear SemiSemi having a thing for you?“

Silence. Awkward silence. He hadn’t been able to see your eyes properly, though he could feel them staring holes into him. Someone was really provoking to be murdered that day.

Basically that was the story of how he had awkwardly confessed to you in a storage room with shallow light and Tendou being less than an armlength away. What an unique experience. 

Semi checked his watch for the seventh time since the captain had announced their delayed departure. Right now you would most likely be at the Christmas party that Reon was hosting in his dorm room. A surprisingly high number of former Shiratorizawa third-years were attending Tokyo University at the moment.

Therefore he had planned to casually walk in to surprise you as a living Christmas present. The last time you had seen each other had been more than a month ago for his birthday. No one knew about his intentions of coming.

Especially not Tendou because this nervous dude would immediately spill everything in his excitement.

Well, at the moment he was still waiting for the plane to move at all. 

Around him the fellow passengers had separated themselves into two groups: Those who were ranting about the circumstances and asking the stewardesses for update every five minutes. And those who decided to simply play UNO to kill the time. 

Additionally, there was him. The dude scrolling through his phone’s gallery to find pictures that would stop him from illegally leaving this crowded plane right this instant.

Like the one that showed you wearing his Shiratorizawa trainings jacket when you were cheering for him during the final that they sadly lost to Karasuno. 

Or the picture of the both of you that Tendou sneaked during your graduation dance’s couples dance.

Last but not least, you teaching him a bit of netball in return for him helping you to improve your volleyball skills. The ball had landed in his face gracefully.

He starred at so many photos for quite a while, sliding his fingers down the screen several times to somehow feel close to touching you. Your lips hadn’t brushed his for way too long, even though Semi felt the heat in his cheeks as soon as he imagined it.

This hadn’t changed at all during the nearly two years of your relationship. Instead of forgetting about situations that had been more than just a little socially awkward, like asking you out or thinking about how to ask you to hold hands with him at the summer festival, he remembered every single one of them in the most stupid moments. For example while sitting in a plane.

In his mind the scene was playing how you had visited him back home for the first time, including meeting his parents. Semi could groan because of the memory.

„It’s so nice to meet you, Thea! We have a lot of questions because our Eita usually never talks about your relationship,“ his mom had greeted you.

Death glare from Semi, not effective. Pleading eyes to stop telling embarrassing childhood stories, ignored. Mouthing to distract her from calling him Ei-chan in front of you, denied. His father had witnessed it all and had decided to not jump in to save his son’s honour. Lovely.

Worst had come to worst when they began to ask you, if you could imagine becoming part of the family. Three months into the relationship, nothing more than hand holding and cuddles had happened, but his parents had seemed to have forgotten about the definition of privacy. 

The probably most torturing evening of his whole life had ended with him bringing you to the door, where you had said good-bye with a tiny blush on your cheeks. 

Before he could react to it, you had pressed a kiss on his cheek and walked away. Seeing him as a flushed mess, not even able to form a decent thought, his parents had already begun to plan the wedding. 

Due to the amount of unnecessary questions, the stewardess needed at least five minutes to walk through the plane. On her way she had to explain that she didn’t possess any new information, if so the captain would inform the passengers as soon as possible. 

As Semi was sitting far in the back, he could hear and see it all. How she apologized for not being able to hand out anything else but water and for a delay that she hadn’t caused in the first place.

„Ladys and Gentleman, this is your captain again.“ 

The formerly noisy crowd got silent within a second. Most of them leaned back, buckled their seatbelt and carried a relieved smile on their faces. 

„Due to the weather situation at our destination we are still waiting for the allowance to take off. We will remain here for another 45 minutes.“

A monotone sigh went through the rows when everyone realised that the suffering would go on. Life definitely hated all of them today. Probably no one would travel the day before Christmas ever again.

Just like that his phone vibrated in his hands, indicating that he had received a new message. Two finger movements later he had opened the chat to read your text. His display showed a picture of you, Tendou, Reon and even Ushijima more or less smiling into the camera with the most hideous Christmas sweaters on.

8 pm. Let the party begin!!

While answering he leaned back and ignored the annoyed comments from the other passengers that were demanding things from snacks to a refund. He imagined you to squeal of happiness once he would step through the door. Wearing a Christmas sweater as well.

Underneath his brown coat it was waiting to be revealed with a gigantic reindeer as the motive. What a pain it had been to take off the jacket for security and feel the stares coming from everywhere across the hall. 

Ugly wasn’t a strong enough word for that piece of clothing. 

Exchanging messages with you made him remember how close and yet so far away he was. His legs were slowly starting to ache, a baby had decided to cry a minute ago and the stewards were busy with making apologies.

Semi could tell that things were going South when even the UNO players lost interest in their calmness. Maybe for the first time in his life, he wished to be back in that storage room from two years ago.

But texting helped to lose track of time. Whenever his phone vibrated, he answered you quickly instead of checking his watch every thirty seconds. It didn’t take away his tiredness though. 

Traveling was draining, interaction with most people was draining - Nevertheless he couldn’t stress most enough since being around you always managed to restore his energy somehow. Only one of the many things that made you so special.

„Why aren’t we flying already? I’ve been awake for nearly 15 hours and I have work to do!“ Some middle-aged man in the front finally snapped. 

And I have a girlfriend to kiss, shut up. - Semi only rolled his eyes before sinking into his chair even more.

In the end the plane took off with a delay of a solid two hours, only for him to make up some stupid excuse for not being able to answer your texts until he would arrive in Tokyo. At some point he fell asleep, despite his efforts to open his eyelids every time they had closed. The constant shacking of the aircraft put him into a deep slumber.

It needed a stewardess, who accidentally collided with his shoulder while passing the snacks, to wake him up. From this second on he knew that you weren’t so far away anymore, which totally kept him from falling asleep again.

Not much later the bright lights of Japan’s biggest city and capital appeared underneath the plane. Like billions of fireflies lighted up the night. 

Long story short, Semi preferred to not talk about the absolutely unnecessary chaos that the airport staff had called baggage claim. 

But he didn’t care anymore because his mind was busy with figuring out how to leave the grounds fast to get to the trains. According to his new plan he would be seeing you in about an hour once he would have entered the train. Emphasis on would have because the screens informed everyone about the aftermaths of the snow storm - Nothing left the station. No train, no human, no nothing. 

Close to midnight Semi found himself stuck at the airport. The taxis were completely overran, the few buses nearly exploded without being able to let everyone enter. And he felt the urge to scream slowly growing inside of him.

Screw it. Screw everything, including all the plans, even his sanity.

He placed his phone next to his ear while it was already trying to reach the other person. Semi wasn’t surprised to hear his loud shouting. 

„Tendou, I know you remember locking Thea and me in the storage room.“ For a second he stopped, hesitating about making the right decision here. „You owe me one.“

Only god knew how Tendou managed to pull around the corner in a car, that definitely wasn’t his from what Semi could recall, less than 90 minutes later. Maybe Christmas wonders still were a thing. Or he had committed a felony, as it was Tendou he was talking about.

The red-head beamed at his former teammate: „SemiSemi! Long time, no see! How was your flight? Get in!“

On the ride to the dorms, he had to remind himself why he was doing all of this. From overworking at the café to boarding a plane on Christmas Eve and then ending up in a car with the Guess Monster as the driver:

There was your smile that had the ability to make him forget any kind of stress. 

In addition, he couldn’t wait to feel your soft skin at his fingertips while closing his arms around you to feel your warmth. He had always adored your height difference.

The way you said his name or called him by his pet name - Honey - pushed all his buttons and melted his heart on the spot. 

Then the moment of truth had arrived after more than half a year of planning alongside saving everything he had to afford the tickets. Sadly, he didn’t have a real present for you when he stepped out of the car at four in the morning.

„Ushiwaka texted me that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in Reon’s room. You could do anything!“

Semi would never admit it in public, but he had somehow even missed Tendou’s bright grin and his comments filled with so much sass that it was nearly impossible to bear. Oh dear god, the sleep deprivation seemed to get the best of him. The time deserved the adjective unholy.

On his way to room 534 they passed multiple mirrors, for example the big one in the elevator. Not even your pleading eyes would have been able to convince to look into one just to confirm his dead-like look. A vampire might be proud or jealous.

When Tendou had carefully opened the door to Reon’s dorm, Semi didn’t move for multiple seconds. 

Seeing you all wrapped up and nuzzled into a big blanket while sleeping on the couch, he suddenly didn’t want to wake you. A lot of things had gone wrong for him, but you shouldn’t be interrupted during your rest. It wouldn’t be fair. Simply egoistic, even though he wanted to hear your voice so bad. Your sweet voice that always sounded so different on the phone.

In the silence, Semi exchanged a nod with Ushijima, thanking him for staying up to look after you. The last member of the Still Awake Squad happened to be the host himself. 

Reon gave Semi a pat on the shoulder: „I will sleep in Ushijima’s room. See you later.“

After some protest coming from Tendou, they all left him when the door closed behind him. For the first time in 44 days, he could place his hand on your head, dreamily smiling at your sleeping figure. It wandered to your cheek where it rested for some time. If it wouldn’t be so creepy to stare at you like this, he could do it forever. 

„Hey Princess,“ he whispered while caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

In response you quietly groaned a bit, probably because of being distracted during your sleeping time.

„Sorry that it took me so long. But I’m here now. I’ll be here for two weeks, even for New Year’s. I can’t wait to spend the time with you.“

Every single one of his words dragged you more into reality, out of dreamland and back into the dorm room. When you opened your eyes, they were so heavy that you immediately wanted to close them again. You didn’t even know what date or time it was. 

That was until you turned around to not face the backseat anymore, but therefore you ended up staring into Semi’s eyes. Even in the dark you would recognise this beautiful pair. Nevertheless your mind needed a moment to proceed the information.

Once it did, it hit you hard. Your eyes widened as fast as your mouth opened, placing your hand on his in disbelieve.

„Eita? What happened? Why are you here? How did you-„

He cut you off in the middle of the next question by pulling you into his arms. His chin rested on your forehead, which allowed you to look up to him a little. 

„I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back any longer. A charger was more than needed,“ he mumbled close to your ear. „Tendou called it the Mistletoe Post. Please tell me that Reon doesn’t have any mistletoes in here.“

Obviously his body still felt way more than just simply heavy, his head might explode into a migraine soon and every limp begged him to never do something like this again. Holding you in his arms, the suffering didn’t matter anymore. Not even the pain could kill this warm and fuzzy feeling inside of him. 

You chuckled, an oh-so heavenly sound in his opinion, „No mistletoes. Just a big, comfortable couch with an enormous blanket that could easily fit two people.“

Honestly, it hadn’t been a real challenge to notice the bags underneath his eyes, his pale skin or cold hands. From what you could tell, everyone else had left anyways.

Soon you were laying on top of Semi - head placed on his chest, feet intertwined - covered in the fluffy blanket. Your boyfriend played with a streak of your hair while slowly drifting off to sleep. At the same time your brain told you go back to bed as well.

„I love you,“ you spoke into the silence.

Semi didn’t stop his doing while he was warming his other hand by having it placed on your back, „I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Thea.“

You nuzzled into him, trying to find the position that would warm him the most. His calm breath told you that he didn’t care about that anymore because he was knocked out. A minute later you followed suit.

Several hours went by before the boy trio checked on you. They used their chance to sneak a new picture for the SemiSemi being soft for Thea collection: Semi and you being all cuddled up on the couch, he protectively holding you close with his arms, both of you wearing nearly matching Christmas sweaters.

What a night to remember.

-----

I’m off to working on all those amazing requests! See you soon :3

#hqss2019 #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! writing #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu semi #semi eita #semi x reader #secret santa #I HOPE THAT THIS TURNED OUT GOOD Q.Q

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Eleven | Barbeque ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi, Nohara Rin, Jiraiya, Uzumaki Naruto ]  [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ Vulgarity ]

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It’s become a bit of a tradition. The last day of Summer break, before everyone heads back to school, there’s a neighborhood get-together for all of the students, no matter their grade. Hosted at the largest house on the end of the street (which also happens to have an in-ground swimming pool), it’s one of the most anticipated days of the year, even though the day after is rather depressing.

The parents might even enjoy it more than the kids at that point, gaining their school year freedom with their kids shipped off for each weekday.

Though she used to be more into the participation aspect, as a senior in high school now, Ryū is pretty much part of the planning and executing committee alongside her father as hosts. The day before, she helps in pre-preparing all of the food for the barbeque, ensuring the pool is up to snuff and stocked with toys and supplies, and tidying up the yard to place all the outdoor furniture.

“How’s it looking out here?” Jiraiya asks from the porch.

Ryū, down below, is hosing off the dust from all of the lawn chairs. “Good! Almost done! How’s the menu? Do we need to get anything else?”

“We’ve got enough hamburgers and hotdogs to feed an army!” he replies with a signature grin. “Add in the chips and dip, the beans, and the drinks, and we’re good to go. I got a bit more than last year just to be sure. We can always have leftovers for a day or two!”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Pool partyyy!”

Seeing her little brother come flying out the back door, Ryū manages to drop the hose and scoop him up, twirling to help with his momentum. “Not until tomorrow! And you know you can’t go in the pool without your water wings, Naruto! It’s not safe!”

“But I wanna swim!” the four year old rebukes, cheeks puffed in indignation.

“You can! Tomorrow. I thought you were helping Dad in the kitchen, huh?”

“That’s boring,” the little blond mutters. “I don’t wanna make food, I wanna eat it!”

Ryū just laughs. “But you have to make food before you can eat it!”

“Nuh uh, that’s adults’ job!”

Grey eyes roll. “Well you’ll have to cook when you’re an adult, then. And you better learn how before then, huh? Or you won’t know how!”

Still struggling in her grip, Naruto grunts and drops the subject. “Lemme down!”

“Do you promise not to go in the pool?”

“Yeah, I promise!”

“Okay. Go back inside, it’s almost dark.”

Clearly displeased, he nonetheless follows her orders, dragging his bare feet the whole way.

She sighs, then looks over her handiwork. Seems everything on her list is done. The plastic furniture will dry overnight, so she shuts off the hose and then closes the cover on the pool. One last sweep, then inside she goes to help with dinner.

“Excited for tomorrow?” Jiraiya asks, still in the kitchen.

“Yeah! But I’m sad it’ll be the last one for me…”

“Nonsense! You can still participate while you’re in college, kiddo. And then you’ll just be one of the adults dragging your kiddos over, hm?”

Ryū gives him a look. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“What, I’m not allowed to tease you about grandkids?”

“You don’t need any for a while, you’ve got Naruto to worry about!”

“And he’s gonna need some kiddos to play with!”

She groans, bringing out more supplies from the fridge. “Oh my gosh, Dad…”

He gives a booming laugh. “You’ll get baby fever one of these days. Just do me a favor and finish college first, that’s all I ask.”

“I haven’t even dated anyone yet,” she counters, grinning.

“Much to my disappointment. I haven’t gotten to give anyone the tough, intimidating dad talk yet! I’ve been practicing!”

And so the banter goes as they cook, finishing and calling Naruto down for dinner. After dishes are done, Ryū retreats to her room and her computer. Social media is little more than everyone groaning about heading back to class, and seniors in particular being “so done” with high school already.

Scrolling through her feed, Ryū smiles softly at a post from Rin. Seems she and Kakashi went to the beach today, if her selfie is anything to go by. She’s already confirmed they’re both coming tomorrow. Technically Rin lives a few streets over, but...best friends get to bend the rules. And Kakashi is a few houses down. Then there’s some younger students, like grade schooler Itachi and his little brother Sasuke, who’s best friends with Naruto. Quite a few of his soon-to-be classmates tend to come over, too. Ryū often has to corral them all herself, the self-appointed babysitter.

Rin teases her about it and her mother nature. “Sure you don’t wanna be a daycare worker or something? You’d be great at it! Kids love you.”

“Not sure my energy levels could survive it,” she’d countered with a grin. As much as she likes kids...they’re a ton of work. She gets enough of that handling Naruto whenever she’s home to deal with her godbrother.

Otherwise her feed is just the typical, and Ryū soon abandons it for a bit of game-playing until bedtime. Already she’s prepared for both tomorrow and the day after: the last first day back of high school.

But it still takes her a little while to fall asleep, thinking it all over. Despite Jiraiya’s reassurances otherwise, something still feels really...final about tomorrow. Another stepping stone she won’t be able to come back to. Another year ending, and one beginning.

Either way, she can’t stop the passage of time.

Come morning, she wakes groggy, her lying awake meaning a slow start. No one is supposed to arrive until noon, so at least she has some buffer before having to handle anyone beyond her dad and brother. Breakfast is slogged down with many a yawn before changing into her outfit for the day.

Given there’s going to be swimming, she puts on her suit first: a longline bikini top and a skirt over the bottom piece until she actually decides to take a plunge. Her hair she ties up in a tail, a few shorter locks framing her face alongside her bangs.

By then, she’s finally fully awake, heading back downstairs to help Jiraiya with the last few finishing touches.

“How’s it looking down here?”

“So far so good! You got a lot done last night, thanks.”

Smiling at the praise, Ryū then glances up at a familiar voice. “Rin!”

Grinning ear to ear, the little brunette rushes into the yard, hopping up to cling to her taller friend. “Hiii! Hope you don’t mind that we’re early?”

“Not at all!” Holding Rin up, Ryū just nods to Kakashi rather than wave. “I can’t get over how tan you are. How many times did you go to the beach this Summer?”

“A few,” Rin replies coyly, letting herself be put down onto the grass. “Look, even ‘kashi has a bit of a tan line! And he’s always pale!”

Sighing lightly at his girlfriend’s antics, Kakashi lets her do as she pleases, lifting his sleeve to show the slight change in tone beneath it.

Ryū just laughs. And is then promptly cut off by Naruto running and crashing into Kakashi head-on.

“Oof!”

The girls giggle, Naruto throwing a slew of questions at the teens. As some of his late father’s favorite students at the high school he taught at, Rin and Kakashi are rather close to the little Uzumaki.

“Look how tall you’re getting, Naruto!” Rin praises, scooping him up. “You’re almost as tall as me, aren’t you?”

“He’s got a ways to go yet,” Ryū replies. Rin may be short, but not that short.

“You must be eating your vegetables like I told you to, huh?”

The blond sticks out his tongue. “No way!”

From there, once noon strikes, people begin filing in. All of the neighborhood children and their parents arrive, the large rear yard filling. Ryū opens the pool and it floods with splashing and squealing kids, all watched over carefully by a rotating squad of adults.

Ryū bustles around helping, distributing food and drinks while checking to make sure no one is missing anything. In between, she chats with others from her class, all smiles.

But eventually she notices something seems...off about Rin.

“Hey, you okay?”

She jumps a bit, turning to Ryū sheepishly. “Well, I uh...I might’ve invited somebody.”

“That’s okay! They not here yet?”

“No...I’m afraid he won’t show up...he seemed kinda on the fence about it.”

Ryū’s head tilts curiously. “Too shy, or…?”

“Yeah. And he, um…” Rin bites her lip. “...it’s kinda hard to explain. He’s not very...popular. He tends to butt heads with people sometimes…?”

“Uh, okay…” Ryū can’t help but hesitate. Is this going to cause any problems, or…?

“Maybe he won’t come. I was hoping he would so he could try and ease into things, y’know?”

“Is he new?”

“Well, no. But he had to change schools for a while.”

Something starts to click in Ryū’s head. “...wait...you mean Obito? The one who got in that accident?”

“Yeah! He’s been in a, um...a different school since he fell so behind after the wreck. And it...didn’t go well. Apparently it was pretty rough…”

“...I see…”

“But he’s able to come back this year to graduate with us, if all goes well! So I wanted him to come and sort of...reintroduce himself, you know?”

Ryū nods. “That’s fine.” She remembers that kid, vaguely. Ryū had mostly hung out with Rin back then, mostly only catching glimpses of him back when he’d try to woo her friend. But, well...Rin’s got a boyfriend now, so she doesn’t have much to go off of.

“Just, um...he’s a little rough around the edges now, if...you catch my drift. He had to be, after dealing with all those jerks.”

“Well, so long as he doesn’t cause any trouble, I don’t mind. Let me know if he shows up, and I’ll -”

“Oh! There he is!”

Jolting, Ryū follows Rin’s pointing finger to a figure coming down the sidewalk. His posture is slightly hunched, dressed in an outfit that makes her want to start sweating. Full pants, full shirt...he’s got to be dying! But as he gets closer, Ryū gets the feeling she understands why.

A myriad of scars pepper one side of his face, and she can see them go down under his shirt. Probably from the accident, then...he must want to keep them covered up. His posture is defensive, as though he expects to be attacked at any moment. And when he meets her eyes, there’s a weight behind his gaze she can’t identify...but immediately sympathizes with.

“Obito!” Rin calls in greeting, moving to the fence. A few people stop at her voice, looking to the newcomer uncertainty. “Hey, hey! Remember her?”

Ryū follows, feeling a bit unsure. “Hey,” she greets, flashing a tentative smile.

“This is her house! Remember what I was telling you?”

Obito’s eyes flicker over the property, and Ryū feels a sudden surge of self consciousness.

“I remember,” he replies, tone a bit awkward.

“It’s been a long time,” Ryū offers, trying to be friendly. “I’m glad you get to come back this year! I’m sure a lot of people miss you.”

“I doubt it.”

The girls exchange an awkward glance.

“Well...feel free to come in, if you’d like! Dad’s still barbecuing if you’re hungry. He’s a really good cook.”

“Oh please, we all know you prep the food and he just cooks it,” Rin laughs.

“Well, still!”

“...Obito?”

All three of them pause as Kakashi steps up.

“...Kakashi.”

“I...didn’t know you were coming.”

“Rin invited me.”

The couple exchange a look, and Ryū can’t help a small grimace. Seems that particular decision wasn’t discussed.

“...didn’t know that either,” Kakashi replies coolly.

“Didn’t know it was your business who she talks to.”

“So, uh -?” Ryū tries to cut in, only to be drowned out.

“I like to know who my girlfriend talks to, sure. That a problem?”

“Kakashi, please,” Rin murmurs. “Let’s not do this now, okay? Obito’s free to be here. Ryū said so.”

The boys stare at each other a long moment.

“...you’re right. Enjoy the party,” Kakashi then relents before an arm around Rin’s shoulder steers her away.

...well that was awkward.

Nervously itching her arm, Ryū mumbles, “...sorry about that…”

“It’s not your fault,” Obito retorts bluntly. “He’s always been an asshole. Not sure what Rin sees in him.”

“...guess we all have our reasons.”

“I can leave if you want.”

“Wh-? No! Please stay,” Ryū cuts in, her expression falling. “...really, it’s fine. You’re more than welcome here. If Kakashi’s going to be an ass, then...let him. But don’t let that turn you away, okay?” She softens. “...I know it can’t be easy coming back here after so long, so...maybe it would be good to sort of...take today as a test run…?”

Obito sighs, hands in his pockets. “Not sure it’ll make any difference. Everyone’s got their opinions already.”

“...maybe so. But, if it means anything...I’d like to get to know you again.” She offers a smile. “It’s been a long time, and...we didn’t know each other that well before. Maybe this is a good excuse to...try again?”

He looks her over suspiciously before softening a few degrees. “...all right.”

Her smile grows. “Okay! Hungry?”

“...yeah, a little.”

“Come on, we’ve got a whole barbeque going. It’s really good!” Ryū opens the little gate into the yard, letting him through. “So, hamburger or hotdog?”

“...hamburger, I guess.”

“Okay - we’ve got a whole bunch of chip types, too. And beans! We go all-out every Summer for today, so take as much as you want!”

As they approach the table where Jiraiya is serving, Ryū notices a momentary look on Obito’s face: one that says he’s far hungrier than he’s letting on.

...it makes her hesitate, a suspicion growing in her mind. But for now, she lets it slide. “Dad! Got a fresh burger? We’ve got a new arrival!”

Jiraiya looks up. “Sure! Just a minute, almost done with another wave!”

“You can pick all your condiments in the meantime,” Ryū offers with a smile.

A bit hesitant, Obito takes a plate and sheepishly prepares a bun. A mountain of chips follows, along with several scoops of beans.

Watching from over the top of the grill, Jiraiya exchanges a knowing glance with his daughter.

“Ryū, you want to eat? You’ve been running around all day!”

“Okay, sure. One more for me, then!”

“Coming right up.”

Taking up her own plate, Ryū stacks it high. She has indeed been busy up until now. Then Jiraiya gives them each a patty.

“Enjoy!”

“Where do you want to sit?”

“...uh…” Obito glances around.

“We can sit along the poolside if you want and put our feet in! It’s such a pretty day...and all the little kids are out now, so we shouldn’t get splashed!”

“...sure.”

Ryū leads the way, slipping off her sandals and sitting along the pool’s edge. Feet lazily kick through the water. Beside her, Obito kicks off his sneakers, rolling up his pant legs slightly to do the same.

“That’s better, huh?”

He doesn’t reply. Seems he’s too preoccupied with his plate full of food. Obito scarfs it all down like he hasn’t eaten in days. Teenage boys tend to have voracious appetites, but…

Well, she was going to try and talk to him, but...he’s clearly got other priorities. So Ryū goes ahead and eats too, watching as Kakashi and Rin, and Asuma and Kurenai start a water battle. The girls sit on the boys’ shoulder, trying to topple one another over.

“Gonna join in?”

She gives a start at the sudden question. “Huh?”

Obito nods to the pool, chewing another bite before swallowing. “You’ve got your suit on, right?”

“Oh...well, um…” There’s a sheepish pause. “I don’t...have anyone to play that with. But I might swim a bit after my food settles.”

His brow furrows at her answer, but he doesn’t rebuke. “...so how long have Rin and Kakashi been a thing?”

“...two years now, I think? It...took a while. According to Rin, Kakashi was worried about dating affecting his grades and time to work on school stuff.”

Obito scoffs. “Typical. He’s still top of the class anyway, right?”

“Er...yeah. Always has been.”

That earns a sigh. “Mister perfect...gets the girl, gets the grades…”

Unsure what to say, Ryū glances down sheepishly to her plate.

“Heads up!”

Jolting, Ryū barely has time to shout in surprise as Rin and Kakashi’s tower falls toward them. Rin tumbles forward, but Kakashi slams back against them. Water rushes over the pair of them with shocked gasps.

“God damn it, Kakashi!” Obito yells, struggling to his feet.

“It was an accident, Obito!” Kakashi counters, already crossing back to the other side of the pool and ignoring him.

“I’m soaked! You stupid -!”

Looking up at Obito’s strange, sudden silence, Ryū gasps - he’s gone rigid, clearly having some kind of attack. Balance lost, he topples head-first into the pool.

“Obito!” Slipping in over the side, Ryū finds a grip under his arms, hauling his head back above the water to let him gasp for air.

Immediately, the others react. Kakashi and Asuma help lift him up to the concrete walkway around the pool, Ryū turning him on his side in case he needs to cough up any more water. Fishing around in his pockets, she finds what she thought she’d find: a sealed pill bottle. Thankfully it was closed tight enough no water got in. She fishes out a tablet, stuffing it into Obito’s mouth. “Swallow!”

He does so with a little difficulty. And after a painful minute, his body starts to relax.

By then, several adults including Jiriaya have gathered around, the latter looking gravely serious. “Let’s get him inside and dried off.”

As the rest of the teens linger in the pool, shocked, Ryū follows in her father’s shadow. In another room, he trades Obito’s soaked clothes for some spares of his own, throwing the rest into the dryer. Obito is then laid on a couch to regain his head.

Ryū sits right beside him, brows pinched with worry. Her hands fiddle subconsciously with the bottle.

Slowly, color comes back to his cheeks, breathing regulating. His foggy gaze refocuses, and it turns to Ryū. “...h-how did you -?”

“I, um...I-I’d like to be a nurse, so...I read a lot of medical junk online,” she admits softly, a bit sheepish. “So I kinda...knew what to look for. It’s a good thing you had these on you.”

“...good thing you knew what to do with them,” he sighs, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling.

“...you okay?”

“...I will be. Thanks for, uh…” He pauses awkwardly. “...saving my ass.”

“Of course...I’m just glad you’re all right.” After a moment, she hands him the bottle, which he keeps clutched in a hand. “...is that...because of your accident?”

A gusty sigh escapes him. “...yeah. Happens randomly, but...especially when I get stressed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not your fault.”

“No, but...I still feel bad. Maybe I...should have let you go home.”

His eyes flicker to their corners at her. “...I’m glad I stayed.”

In turn, she looks up from her lap in surprise.

“Well...hopefully I won’t be too stiff tomorrow. I tend to get locked up after one of these…”

“Maybe you can call the school and -?”

“They don’t care. I’ll be fine.”

“...but -?”

“It’s fine. I’ll live.”

Given all she’s learned (and guessed) about Obito today, Ryū feels her heart clenching for him. The poor guy… “...well, if you need any help, just let me know...okay? I’d be happy to.”

“...thanks.”

By then, the day begins to wind down, and guests start filtering back out the way they came. Near the end, Rin and Kakashi come in.

“...you okay?” Rin asks, wringing her hands.

“Fine.”

“...sorry about all that,” Kakashi mumbles.

“Wouldn’t kill you to be more careful,” Obito counters with a glance.

Kakashi has no rebuke.

“Well, we’ll...see you guys tomorrow,” Rin then offers, still looking nervous.

“Bye guys.” Ryū gives a little wave, watching them go.

“I should head home, too.”

“You sure? Can we give you a lift back?”

“No, I -”

“I’d be happy to. It’d save you the walking.”

“It’ll be good for me to stretch my legs.”

“You won’t, um...there’s no chance you’ll relapse on the way?”

“Probably not.”

Ryū nibbles her lip. “...can I...give you my number, and you can let me know you make it back in one piece?”

“My phone got soaked.”

Oh. “...do you have a landline at home you can call from?”

He gives a huff of a laugh. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks tinge pink. “...yes.”

“All right, fine. If that’ll stop your mother henning, so be it.”

Ryū walks with him out to the road, watching him like a hawk. “Be careful on your way.”

“Will do. Thanks for the food.”

“...thanks for staying.”

He nods, giving a salute before heading down the sidewalk.

After a pause, Ryū calls, “See you tomorrow?”

Obito stops, looking back. “...yeah!”

A small smile pulls at her lips. Well...maybe today wasn’t a total disaster.

     Phew, just barely got this done. Weekend was busier and more exhausting than I figured, so this is...late :’D But better late than never.      I wanted to base this in Obito’s bully verse, but idk if I really wrote it well kjdfdkjhg so forgive me, I’m not very learned in writing that kind of thing lol      I guess otherwise I...dunno what else to say? I’m very tired :’D Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #hatake kakashi #nohara rin #jiraiya #uzumaki naruto #best years of your life [ au ] #vulgarity //

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Ridikulus Pt 14

By nine you were off home again receiving confirmation from Percy that the hidden islands were now emptied. And those families were settling back into their homes excited to learn all they could of what they had missed on their new world from the back issues of the Daily Prophet detailing all the updates including the nominations given for Minister of Magic, along with other positions in the Ministry. Crude maps were given of the new layout of the globes being made of this world and the Wizarding lands within it to be sold before long. Listings of all that was needed for the coming city of Dale to be formed were posted as well along with Rita’s full page delving into the impending engagement of Hermione to a certain Dwarf Prince. Though whenever possible other tiny paragraphs were written with other possible pairings including Ron, Ginny, Regulus and of course you, which was a rotating list of names and faces without a solid answer.

.

Through the snow and bustling suburb you walked until you found the house formerly Number 4 Privet Drive. Biting your lip you walked alone to the front door and gave it a gentle knock. Inside shuffling was heard paired with giggles and when the door opened Petunia was there grinning at you as Vernon peeked out of the living room. Rapidly smiling she stepped back motioning her hand to welcome you in, “Come in, come in Jaqi.” She peeked through the door at the quickening snow then shut it and joined you all in the living room asking, “Any news? There were some explosions earlier.”

“Ex-,” for a moment your lips parted and brows furrowed before you said, “Must be fireworks. We did settle down the other hidden islands and towns,” easing their worries greatly as you smiled at Em, who was coloring beside Dudley at the coffee table. Over to the couch behind her you went kissing the top of her head as you sat down and said, “It’ll be all over the papers by noon no doubt, everyone being resettled. Short version, most of the Wizarding world is in a ring of mountains in the land of Angmar down to a Dwarf city called Moria, fit quite nicely into the Misty Mountains, as they’re called.”

Em, “Misty?”

“Yes,” you replied in a smiling giggle making her do the same in her turn to coloring again.

She nodded and Vernon asked, “So, we’re safe now?”

You nodded meeting his eyes, “Yes. We’ve sealed the lands and everyone knows their new jobs joining in producing food and clothes, things like that. Even have a series of cities for the Muggles we managed to gather up.”

Dudley, “What, what, do we, do?”

You flashed him a weak smile, “Well, I know you’ve been getting along well with Arthur, and we’ve actually come up with an idea of sorts.” They nodded, “We don’t have very much Muggle born representatives for European Wizarding communities, as it were, so we were hoping you might help us by joining a sort of council to ensure that needs are met and if anything arises you could bring it to our attention. Arthur could fill it in more thoroughly than I am,” you said with another quick chuckle.

Vernon, “A Council?”

Petunia, “Like a neighborhood watch, type thing?”

You shook your head, “No, you would have a place in Parliament, meeting regularly with the Queen and being our buffer, so to speak.”

They all nearly choked on the air they were breathing as Vernon replied, “The Queen?!”

You nodded, “Well, she wasn’t exactly very willing to deal with us when we first proposed hiding her lands. Burning, was mentioned with shouting, and shin kicks were issued, well, it didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped, and she sort of banished me from her kingdom.”

Petunia nodded with her lips pursed before releasing a soft snicker, “Well, I do suppose we could see where the difficulty would lie in that.”

Dudley, “Don’t know how banishment was s’posed to stop you.”

You smirked at him as Vernon smiled saying, “Well, if you’ve already set it, in their minds, you know,” he wet his lips, “It doesn’t sound too hard. Neighbors have grown quite peaceful, and I am getting used to the comfortable lifestyle you’ve switched to. Change in the cars is nice to, what do they run off of?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. Sunlight and some other, elements.”

He nodded giving your hand a gentle pat, “Just leave it to us. We will be your buffer.”

You smiled and glanced at Petunia when she scooted forward, wetting her lips as her hands folded across her lap nervously, “Last time, you mentioned the orphans. Vernon is a much better negotiator than I am. I would very much like to help, if I can.”

You nodded and replied, “I know. We are in need of foster families. I will add you to our lists, and will send word to the other members of the Council for a meeting for you all before you meet with the Queen.” They all joined you on your feet in Em’s climb onto your lap ready to go, and walked you to the door where you paused saying, “Oh, about Harry’s son, would you want to come over when he’s here?”

Petunia nodded with a teary gaze, “Absolutely. We would love to.”

“Shouldn’t be long now. Week possibly.”

A finger wave and turning around you nuzzled Em closer to your chest in a warm bubble and heard the door shut behind you after their animated goodbye to the little girl and you. Grinning to her you asked, “How was your morning?”

Animatedly she shared about the coloring she did widening your smile after her having snuck to the garden to get snow to throw at Dudley making you giggle.

 *

Breakfast had gone well for your relatives, at least until the papers had been delivered. The announcement of his name in the papers the following name beside the absurd Lockhart, that had named himself once again, drove Remus to nearly choking on his morning tea wondering how anyone could name a Werewolf as their Minister. Sure he had managed to complete his year teaching at Hogwarts without his secret being outed.

And since falling here he had startlingly found himself without the uncomfortable feelings around his first shift Sirius, Ron and Arthur had set up a safe place to lock him inside when the moon rose only to find him still without a reaction at all even without his potions. But with all the Order members on the Council he had obviously been the clearest choice in both experience and demeanor as an Auror and his vast studies into races, creatures and magical plants and objects.

The teens had all slipped out of the room smirking the more his brow twitched taking Teddy and Vici with them eventually leaving the trio of men with two of them smirking wildly relaxing in their morning off to move into the sitting room.

With a huff Remus threw his jacket he’d jerked free from onto his arm chair in the sitting room in the Black Family Home. “A Werewolf! They can’t possibly elect a Werewolf!”

Regulus, “Technically that’s just a rumor.”

Sirius nodded his head, “Yup. Besides, how can they prove it? Obviously something changed in us when we were sent here. You’ve been cured!”

Remus rolled his eyes, “I have to tell them.”

Regulus, “Not going to do any good. Werewolf or not you’re better than Mr La-dee-da Look-at-Me Airhead Blondie.”

Remus raised a brow and Sirius added, “Plus, even if it did come out how would you prove it, hmm? Your shift hasn’t happened once!”

Remus, “Still-!”

Sirius, “Still nothing. All they can find on you is a very unruly pet rabbit from school that all these tall tales on your absences are based around.”

Remus sighed and Regulus clapped him on the back, “Just accept it as a sign that good things are to come.”

Giggles signaled Remus to come out of his slump when Sirius sat up and grinned at Em in her race for him to accept the hug she offered, “Hello jellybean.” He said kissing her cheek puling her up onto her lap.

Regulus gave your arm a gentle tug letting you settle between his legs on his fainting couch to relax against his chest, “Sleep well? Lindir said you slept at Elrond’s again.”

“I followed my shoes again.”

Remus, “ooh, must mean Fin is nearly ready.” Making you giggle to yourself before he asked, “Do I smell, horse?”

“Glori took me on a forest tour. The outer rings. Pretty much a ride around the outside their forest. Showed be this cool spot on a hill with these huge birds and reindeer sleeping. Blended in with the snow could barely see them in it.”

Sirius smirked behind his mug, “Sounds cozy.”

“Could be, if he wasn’t so damn serious all the time. Barely spent eight minutes up there.”

Regulus teased, “Sounds like someone’s catching feelings.”

Turning your gaze to Remus who smirked saying, “Have you picked yet?”

Playfully you replied, “Gin says I should just keep both. Give Em two step dads.”

At that your father snorted and leaned in to kiss Em’s cheek, “More power to you if you do. Besides, we could use ample arms for our little herd. Any word on their comment on fostering?”

“Yes, I said we could start the vetting at least.”

Regulus hummed out laying his arms across your middle, “No problem, already have a team in mind. Lindir can help us get started tomorrow after the vote.”

“Oi!” From the doorway you spotted Troy and Moran, the latter saying, “Thank you for calling it late today. Missus is having terrible cramps, and everything’s swollen. I will be glad when our girl is here. Just hate seeing her so miserable the last month.”

Troy rolled his eyes, “Just wait till you get to teething.”

In a roll you climbed to your feet changing your clothes in a flick of your fingers before tugging back your hair into a braided ponytail crossing the room, “Then there’s the first flu.”

Sirius, “Dragon Pox.”

Regulus, “Ooh, stomach virus.”

Remus, “Wait for puberty.” Earning groans from all three as you giggled and continued out to the pitch in the back to go tear yourself apart.

.

Painfully sprawled across the floor on your belly you groaned through Draco’s barefoot walk across your back and legs post workout soak only to shift your head seeing Fili pausing in the doorway looking you over. “Hey Fili. I think Hermi’s at Luna’s.”

Fili shook his head, “No, I, um, I was sent to ask about uncle’s apartment.”

“Ah,”

Inching closer he asked, “Is there a reason you are being walked across?”

Draco, “Helping to relax her muscles.”

Fili nodded and you groaned out in the final popping of your throbbing hip, “Quidditch practice.” Draco stepped off you and bent to help you up then helped you stretch your arms in various ways. “I’m good. Body’s on fire but let’s go resettle a home.” Grinning widely you guided the Dwarf back into the snow pulling on your boots and coat for the start of the long walk to the archways and then up to the Royal Wing. Full designs were set up and unable to help it Thorin asked, “If I may, I hate to trouble you with more pressure, only-,”

“Fred and George started your potion last night. Two and a half weeks roughly and you will be a Dam.”

In that his eyes lit up and he said with a spreading smile, “That is fantastic! So soon.” Anxiously he wet his lips and his eyes scanned over you, “You are in pain. Was this too straining on you?” he asked with worry in his tone.

Shaking your head you said, “Quidditch practice. Getting used to training again.”

Dwalin patting lulu’s back in her nap against his chest in a sling asked, “Have you tried hot rock press yet?”

Fili, “She had her cousin Draco walk across her back and legs.”

That made the Dwarves halt and Balin clear his throat to say, “Miss Jaqi, no offense to the young lad, but he is a bit, on the slender side.” Making you giggle to yourself.

Thorin offered his hand, “Come, in this we can aid you.”

Not two floors down you were stripped to your underwear and entered the steam room where a pair of Dams helped to lay and stretch you out. Then rolled you over to coat your back in oil and settle hot rocks across your back. Nearly an hour he asked you, “Feeling better?”

“Oh, if you weren’t practically married to Bilbo I would kiss you,” lowly he chuckled.

Bilbo in settling into his favorite armchair after having explored the tiny island turned garden getaway, “I just might let you.”

The comment adding more chuckles and in the silence after Dis stated, “It is comforting to see you so at ease with offering affections after being offered up like cattle by your relatives.”

“I imagine their intentions weren’t far from your parent’s in helping you court Vili.”

Dis, “Had I a child already there would be no reason to have bartered up for the sake of fertility.”

Holding your grin you replied, “Well I’m young, ample child bearing years ahead, they just don’t want me to miss any chances. Marrying well means comfort. For some people breaking it off with Barty would mark me as damaged goods, Em helps to confirm I am far from barren and of some use to continuing bloodlines.”

Dis’ lips were parted and she stated, “You speak rather frankly on this matter.”

In a shrug you replied, “The Black family is a lot like the Durin line, heavy name has heavy expectations. I am the only child of the male line so far, Draco the female line. Babies are a must.”

Dis, “I was not aware such weight was enforced on your children.”

“Not many realize what comes along with being from the Sacred 28. Both the privilege and the problems.” In a glance over her face you said, “But you don’t have to worry about all that. My bundle of sticks. For now,” your eyes narrowed a moment, “Dwarves don’t use cufflinks do they?”

Her brow inched up, “Cuff, links?”

“One of the traditions we have for engagements tends to be cufflinks, little decorative metal studs used to hold the ends of the dress shirt sleeves. If not I can think of something else.”

Dis, “I am certain for special occasions Fili might wear some of your own clothing designs belonging to your people to wear them.”

“No rush on that, plenty of time to think of gifts.”

.

A call for Thorin to head down for a meeting had you turning to head home again where a shrill call from your owl had you reaching up to let him perch on your arm asking him in a stroke of his head, “You deliver all your letters already?”

His shrill reply had you heading up to your study where you left him on the edge of the desk while you thought of who you could send him off to. In a shrug you brought over a firefly decorated sheet of parchment you uncapped your feather tipped pen to write to Thranduil.

‘King Thranduil,

This is a bit impromptu, however I seem to be at a loss for who I might write to. You see, I seem to be at a lack of composed notes to send off with my overly eagle owl who abhors the lull in my communications since graduating. If this letter bothers you I will refrain from sending them in the future, though the delivery of this one might buy me some time to compose a few more decoy letters to keep my owl distracted for a few weeks.

I apologize for the inconvenience, but thank you all the same,

J. Black’

A quick blow over the letter and the ink was confirmed dry, in the folding of the page your owl fluffed up his feathers listening to where you were sending him in the drip of the yellow wax you melted onto the crease that was stamped with your duck seal. The final touch of scrawling his name across the front of the page later and your owl took off rather excitedly while you brought out your usual list of contacts to start with Newt and work your way down to those not living with or near you to avoid irritating your owl.

 *

Halfway through an inspection of his wine supply in hopes of throwing a celebration soon the sound of wings and an eager screech had Thranduil’s eyes rising to the large dark owl with a pale yellow letter in its talons. Suddenly it dropped the letter and his eyes flinched wider and he reached up to grab it noting the elated screech of the eagle who circled him and landed on his shoulder. Curiously he eyed the unintelligible writing on the front making him turn it over feeling his lips part seeing the duck seal.

Tauriel beside him asked, “My King?”

Thranduil, “From Miss Black, I cannot read this,”

Hastily she replied, “If you require privacy-,”

“No,” cutting her off he strode away mumbling, “Who knows Westron…” Glorfindel was just as clueless in this as he was. Celeborn was mainly the same, Arwen knew a few common phrases and he would be damned to take your letter to Rohan or Gondor for their aid. He had heard Bilbo holding trouble reading your notes before leaving him to hope Elrond was not as rusty as he had always claimed. If not he might be left to drastic measures to convince one of your relatives or kin to translate it for him.

The seal sat broken and the page was admired in the King’s path through his kingdom after having given mental orders on what to do with his wine requests, off to Rivendell he went with growing wonder at just what you had written to him about. Inside his study Elrond sat and raised his gaze from his book when Thranduil had entered curiously looking over the bird on his shoulder, “I require your assistance in translating a letter.”

Elrond, “Oh,” his eyes wandered to the yellow page in the King’s hand, “What language?”

“Westron. Miss Black wrote to me.”

Elrond nodded, “Yes, well, depending on the subject matter of the letter-,”

“I doubt it will be very intimate, we have yet to share our intentions.”

Elrond sighed and his eyes narrowed accepting the page only to say, “I do not understand half of these words, and the script-,” After a moment he called out, “Lindir?”

Around the corner into the doorway from his own study Lindir appeared, “Yes, My Lord?”

Elrond, “Has Regulus taught you Westron? I have seen you borrowing their books.”

Lindir nodded and entered the room with hand extended to accept the page offered up to him. “Yes, through our mental bond. The language washed through me all at once.” Lifting the page he softly read the simple message leaving the King more puzzled than anything. “Regulus has mentioned her owl before, Fluffball, is what he called him.”

Thranduil, “Why would Miss Black consider me to be against receiving her communications?”

Lindir, “From my perspective Miss Black has a reluctance to forcing bonds with others. It has not been long we have known one another there is caution at forcing her company or friendship on others. Written correspondence outside of official reasons is quite an intimate thing.”

Elrond, “True.”

Lindir, “Would you be responding?”

Thranduil, “Yes,” he replied sharply, then shifted to begin pacing with fingers smoothing over his lips, “I must word my response to promote further communications. Outside of official matters as well.”

Taking his usual seat for dictating he brought out a blank piece of parchment and began to address the letter to you, carefully copying down the letter sentence by sentence eventually filling a page. The ending of which being a series of possible invitations from him and the other Lords, including Celeborn having dropped by for tea with Arwen to add to the list to the sound of the owl’s impatient noises. When the page was just barely folded the owl on the King’s shoulder gave an eager cry and leapt off to snatch the letter and fly off before it was sealed leaving Lindir wide eyed.

Elrond, “Miss Black was not kidding just how eager her owl truly is.”

Lindir, “I believe it is because she may write the letter out of his sight if it is particularly lengthy.”

Thranduil, “I must hope that the letter was adequate to encourage new communications.”

 **

Hours had passed and finally the telling screech sounded in your room as you finished off the final set of exams you would be giving the next week. Reaching up you accepted the letter and let your owl head over to his perch to puff up for the night to rest. Curiously your brows furrowed seeing your name on the open letter and opening it you turned it over seeing a full page response you leaned back in your chair to read. Setting it down you groaned rubbing your face, “More invitations…”

In a huff you stood and went down at the growl of your stomach to the kitchen. Alone there you started to slice up a few potatoes while your carrots boiled on the stove. Through the door however your eyes rose to Lindir in his approach anxiously avoiding your gaze. “Hungry? Just making some veggies, but I can whip you up something if you like?”

In a timid shake of his head he replied, “No, no thank you, Miss Black.”

“You can call me Jaqi if you like.” You said lifting the cutting board you carried to the strainer in the sink you used the knife to dump the potatoes into for a quick rinse.

“Thank you, Jaqi,” your name added softly before he mustered his voice again to state, “I do hope I did not overstep any boundaries.” That made you look at him and shut off the water to dump the potatoes into the water filled pot you floated over to a spare burner.

“What boundaries would those be?”

“My translating and taking dictation for the reply for your letter to King Thranduil.”

“Trans-,” you wet your lips then asked, “Thranduil can’t read?”

Lindir shook his head, “Not Westron, this tongue, Regulus taught me, and Lord Elrond took notice of my borrowing your books.”

“Huh,” you said to yourself as a matter of fact-ly, “I did not even consider that. To answer your question, no, I am not upset. Honestly Puffball has a hard time controlling himself. He didn’t seem upset?”

“Puffball?”

In a giggle you replied luring a ghost of a smirk onto his lips, “The King. I know Puffball was upset he didn’t even let you seal the letter.”

“Ah, King Thranduil was not upset, a bit curious why you would have a reluctance to correspond with him, though as it was your first correspondence it was understandable. Puffball did seem rather impatient, yes.”

In a glance over Lindir you said, “Regulus is at the Ministry till seven, sorry to say, if you were here to see him.”

Lindir, “Oh yes, he informed me yesterday.” Timidly his eyes scanned over you and he asked, “Are you requiring a translator for letters in the future?”

“Well,” you said moving to the carrots to blow on one you raised out of the water, “Lord Celeborn has taught me Valinorian, so I can write to him, I wouldn’t want to add to your work so it can wait until I get the others to share the languages they know.”

Lindir gave you a soft grin, “That sounds like an excellent plan.” After another glance at your ring in your taking a nibble of the carrot you slid back into the water again, “Have you spent much time with Miss Em’s father?”

That had your eyes on his again and you shook your head, “No, he’s playing mother hen for his wife between classes.”

“Regulus speaks so fondly of her, is why I ask. Do you believe he would wish for a daughter?”

A smirk eased across your lips as you checked one of the potato slices, “Regulus would be happy with a chicken if that was what he was given. Gender is irrelevant, he loves children.”

That made Lindir smile more, “That is reassuring.”

“Would you want daughters?”

The question made him blush and he replied as confidently as he could muster, “I have a sister whom I assisted in rearing. I have only witnessed the boys whom Elrond has claimed as his wards before.” Timidly his gaze dropped and shifted to the newspaper on the table that his head tilted to read on the story about you and some mystery affair taking you from your duties in school. “Is this fiction?”

Shifting your gaze you reached out pulling the paper closer to him and yourself, “Oh, mostly.” His eyes rose to look you over, “The paper has a habit, two days before an election they don’t write about it. We’ve had a week full of reading on it, it gives the people a chance to mull over their choices before the vote tomorrow. Rita Skeeter, the author is given the front page. The bottom flap is on Ginny and her ‘Mysterious Blonde Beau.’ Yesterday’s was all on Hermione and her ties to the Durins. It’s all fluff, Rita’s just blowing smoke, that’s a delivery boy from earlier in the picture.”

Lindir, “And it is allowed, for her to write such lies on your honor?”

In a giggle you replied, “No one takes much weight on what Rita says or writes. It’s usually just taken as amusing gossip, besides, there’s been worse scandals than alluding to a possible romance for me.”

Lindir, “You are not offended then?”

“I am offended that she couldn’t spell my school house correctly, or even bother to write that I am Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher and not trying to take over Professor Trelawney’s position in teaching Divinations. Where she got that nonsense I’ll never know. Other than that all fluff. If you really want to see some juicy stories of hers I should bring out copies of her column when I was in the Triwizard Tournament. Ooh, now that was scandalous.”

“It is common for you to be a topic in the, Daily Prophet, then?”

“Among other publishings. Newspapers, Magazines, random bits on the radio news feeds. Whole family since I got into Hogwarts have been famous.”

Curiously reading more into the story he asked, “This states you are, sentenced to the school?”

His eyes rose and you nodded, “When I killed my uncle Riddle, part of my coming out publicly as Leader of the Death Eaters was being named Defense Professor for the rest of my life.” His eyes narrowed a moment, “It is complicated. There was a Minister Riddle was using as a Puppet in charge, who when Riddle died was set free of his mental fog and wanted to set extreme punishments to Death Eaters, wanted to sentence me to prison for life. Ensure I never saw Em again. Then Rufus, our previous Minister the puppet took over for when I faked his death to save his life came back and bound me to the job so I wouldn’t be in prison. He needed a sentence but wanted it to be lenient for saving him and others.”

Lindir, “That is troubling to hear, you being treated in such a manner. Even as Queen.”

“Queen to the evil guys doesn’t scratch up fluff to any of the Aurors past making me a target.”

Lindir, “Regulus is an Auror,”

You nodded, “And a Death Eater. He was a target too. It’s different now. When Riddle died and more groups rose up the skew on us changed. They wanted us to save them.”

Lindir nodded again, “This-,”

In the breaking of his voice you sliced off another piece of your next carrot you stabbed with your fork, “It’s troubling, and confusing, but you have my word, we’re safe now.”

“Yes, I, it is all so, painful. New faces and new names, hearing the stories and now meeting those involved, you were children, in war, that is, terrifying. I will adjust, in time. Merely pardon our awe at how resilient you all have been.”

With a grin you said, “We sacrifice for those we will never meet, just like those who plant trees they will never live to lay under. We have to be better.”

Through the door Regulus came smirking and causing Lindir to shift in his seat, “Ah, there you are. We closed early so we might start our first round of foster interviews, would you be available to help translate?”

Lindir glanced at you seeing your grin at him and bowed his head to you then rose, “Of course.”

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

@long-cosmos-overhead​, @partoftheminfamily​, @alishlieb​

Pt 15

#HP Crossover #Glorfindel x Reader OC #thranduil x oc

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Snowed In ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Apparently we might get snow in a couple days. It is officially valid for me to post a story about snow. (I’ve been trying to control myself). Hope you enjoy! There will probs be more snowy fluffy cuddles. 

Summary: You and Bucky get stuck at a safe house one night. Could it change everything for the two of you? 

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Steve (minor) 

Rating: T 

Warnings: Implied smut, mention of sick parent (alzheimers), some general sadness, angst if you squint? 

Word Count:  2337 

“Hey, Stevie. The package has been delivered and we are en route to extraction.”

“About that extraction…”

“What about it?”

“The storm is too bad. None of our pilots can get out to you until it dies down.”

“Great,” Bucky muttered beside you as he tried not to send the car careening off the road.

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“There’s a safe house two miles from your location. I’m sending you the coordinates. Bunk down there for the night and we’ll hopefully be able to get to you tomorrow.”

“Got it. Are you okay? You sound stressed, Stevie.”

“I’m fine.” You knew he was lying. “You two okay?”

“We’re good,” you said quickly.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, but you ignored it.

“Are you sure? If not…” He trailed off with a huff.

“We’re good, Stevie,” you assured him.

“Alright. Then just call in when you get to the safe house.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Take care of each other.”

You plugged the coordinates into the GPS before looking out at the quickly worsening storm. You were glad Bucky was the one driving. You were also glad that you were going to bunk down somewhere for the night. Of course the prospect of staying with the Winter Soldier without any buffer was worrisome.  

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Bucky. You knew he would never hurt you. But you were intimidated by the super soldier. And you didn’t think he liked you very much.

When you had joined the team, Steve had become your S.O and eventually your pseudo big brother. You were practically inseparable now. As such you had spent a lot of time with Bucky in the last year and a half, but he still clammed up around you 90% of the time. However the other 10% he was charming and inquisitive, and that had been plenty for you to develop a crush on him.

As he drove, you surreptitiously watched his profile, cataloguing each clench of his jaw as he struggled to keep the SUV on the road.

“We’re here,” he reported flatly when you pulled up to the small cabin.

“Cozy,” you observed, doing your best to sound cheery.  

He huffed out half a laugh, and you counted it as a point in your favor.

After a too quick shower, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and shuffled to the kitchen to scrounge up some food for you and Bucky. You had just dumped the ravioli into the strainer when Bucky wandered in, sniffing the air.

“Whatever brand sauce that is, we need to buy it for the tower.”

“It’s the usual brand. I just added a little something extra to it.”

You added another dash of thyme and gave it a stir before offering him a spoonful. His eyes slid shut and he groaned as he tasted it.

“I think you missed your calling, doll.”

You prayed that he couldn’t hear the way your heart quickened at the nickname. It was always reserved for nights when he felt particularly affectionate towards you.

“Is there enough for two?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. Figured you might be hungry.”

You quickly dished out the food, humming to yourself, feeling oddly at ease with Bucky.

“This safe house is surprisingly well stocked. Do you want red or white?”

He grinned and held up two bottles of wine, when you looked at him in confusion.

“Red please.”

“Coming right up.”

“I’m also pretty sure that this isn’t so much a safe house as it is one of Tony’s vacation houses,” you commented as you set the plates down before sitting cross-legged on the comfy kitchen chair.

“Lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” you echoed, digging into your food.

“Have you ever made your own sauce from scratch?” Bucky asked after he finished his first round of ravioli.

“Yeah, a bunch of times. It’s pretty good.”

“Do you have a secret recipe?”

You shook your head with a smirk. “No recipe. I do it by taste. Every batch is different.”

“What made you get into cooking?”

So he was in an inquisitive mood tonight.

“I was the daughter of a single mom who had to work way too many hours to keep us afloat. Eventually it became my way of giving back to her.”

“She’s clearly an amazing woman to have raised such an amazing daughter.”

You wanted to scoff, brush off the compliment, but his words were casual but sure.

“She’s one of the strongest people I know. I hope to be half the woman she is someday. I remember this one time, I always begged to go to the beach every summer, but she could never take the time off. But one year she finally had a few days off and she packed up the car and we went to the beach. Only it was the middle of February in New England. It was freezing so I couldn’t go in the water. But we still walked along the beach every day at sunrise and sunset. And we ate junk food and watched late night TV. It was great.”

“Steve and I did something like that one time. But we were dumb enough to go in the water. Steve was stuck under blankets for a week.”

You smiled at the fondness in his voice.

“Right after I graduated from college, I had saved up enough to take her on a real vacation. We spent two weeks in Hawaii. I think that was the first time I saw my mom relax,” you smiled to yourself as you remembered.  

“That was really sweet, doll. Are you two still close?”

Your face fell and he knew he had asked the wrong question.

“Sort of. Not really. I mean I still see her all the time, but umm. She has early onset alzheimers so she doesn’t really remember me most days.”

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

You sniffed and focused on the ceiling trying not to outright cry.

“Sometimes there are still good days. But she’s being well-taken care of, so that’s all I can really ask for.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful topic. As you know I’m pretty rusty on the whole good conversation thing.”

He was floundering, and you shook your head smiling.

“No, I haven’t thought about those trips in forever. It’s nice to remember good times with my mom.”

“Memories certainly are precious.”

“I’ll drink to that.”  

 The conversation turned lighter after that. Several hours later, you tried and failed to fight a yawn. You didn’t want the night to end. This was the longest conversation you had had with Bucky, and you didn’t want whatever magic there was to go away.

“You’re exhausted, doll. We should get some sleep.”

“I’m good.”

“Your eyes are practically closed. Why don’t you take the bed? I’ll take care of the dishes and crash on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch. I’ve always enjoyed sleeping by a fireplace.”

You helped put the dishes in the sink before wrapping the comforter around you once more and headed for the couch. You paused in the doorway as Bucky whistled while he washed the dishes.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You sucked in a deep breath, before rushing through your next words.

“This was nice. We should do it more often.”

He smiled and chuckled a little before answering.

“I’d like that.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, doll.”  

 You woke up shivering. You were about to leave your cocoon to stoke the fire when Bucky emerged from bedroom with the duvet from the bed around his shoulders.

“I can hear your teeth chattering in there."

“S-sss-sorrry, B-bb-b-b-ucky.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, y/n. The heat went out.” He tossed a few logs on the fire to build it up. “Alright, move over.”

“W-why?” You asked, but did as he asked.

“Because, clearly the fire isn’t enough to keep you warm. But I can.”

He stretched out along the couch and you hesitantly lay down next to him. But the second your body sensed his heat, you burrowed into him instinctually.

“God, you’re so hot,” you mumbled around a yawn.

“You’re making me blush, doll,” he smirked and spread the duvet over the two of you.

Some part of your brain was mortified.

“I meant your body is hot.”

“Oh really?”

You mentally smacked yourself.

“Just go to sleep, you talking furnace,” you grumbled.

“Whatever you say.”

You would have continued digging yourself a hole with a shovel of embarrassing comments, but his warmth and his fingers absent-mindedly rubbing back and forth over your lower back had you sighing in contentment and before you knew it you were asleep.

 The next time you woke up, Bucky’s lips were resting against yours. Your first thought was how unbelievably soft his lips were. The second was something along the lines of oh god what if he wakes up like this?!

You slowly tried to pull away, but he followed and now his lips were slotted with yours and you could taste the wine from dinner. You tried to turn your head but each time you moved he moved with you, so you gave up. Just then Bucky started to stir and you slammed your eyes shut, hoping he’d think you were still asleep. He stiffened the moment he woke up, and tried to pull away slowly. Instinctively you moved with him, but you couldn’t keep your eyes closed and you locked gazes with him.

You were both still for a moment, lips still interlocked until you threw caution to the wind and sucked on his lower lip. He groaned and pulled you closer. You wove your fingers into his hair. He managed to free you from the blankets you’d been huddled under and rolled so you were lying on top of him.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest, but he froze when he reached the collar of your shirt or more accurately Steve’s shirt that you had stolen.

“I’m sorry. This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“What would your boyfriend say?”

“I don’t think he’d give a shit since he doesn’t exist,” you laughed moving to kiss him again.

“He’s my best friend. How could you say- wait what?” He asked pulling away.

You pushed against his chest so you could sit up, still straddling him.

“Bucky, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You’re not dating Steve?”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

“Steve?! God no. He’s like my brother.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Really,” you told him seriously. “I’m not dating anybody.”

He grinned broadly. “In that case.”

Before you could respond his lips were back on yours. You moaned as he slid his hands under your shirt, grazing across your ribs.

 Later, you laid cuddled against Bucky on the floor beside the fireplace, humming as you traced designs across his chest.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You propped your head on your hand so you could look at him.

“Why did you think Stevie and I were dating?”

“You guys are just so close and cuddly.”

“Not any more than anyone else.”

He bobbed his head, conceding the point.

“But you say I love you all the time to him. Only to him,” he added.  “Also you wear his clothes.”

He had a point, but he was still wrong.

“I do love Steve. Like my brother. He didn’t tell you how I got on the team did he?”

“No. I assumed you were recruited because you were a smarty pants.”

“I was. Just out of college. But I was cut from the program within a week, because I couldn’t keep up physically.”

“You’re one of our best fighters.”

You preened slightly at the compliment.

“Now. Because of Steve. But before I couldn’t even run a mile. Steve fought for me, worked with me for months, pushed me when I wanted to quit, and then got Fury to clear me so I could join the team. And when the team questioned him, he stood up for me. He put his faith in me. Some weak computer nerd who probably should have been working a cubicle at this point.”

“That’s so not true, doll.”

“Whether it is or isn’t is beside the point. The thing is, how could I not love Steve after what he’s done for me? But it was never romantic.”

Bucky was silent, stewing it over.

“Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I’m just, I was so convinced. It’s taking a little bit for my brain to catch up.”

“If you thought I was dating Steve, why didn’t you just ask him?”

“I didn’t want to mess anything up for you guys.”

“How would asking if we’re dating mess anything up?”

“Steve’s a self-sacrificing idiot,” he stated as if it answered everything.

“Agreed, but what does that have to do with anything?”  

“I was worried that if he thought I liked you, he’d try to break things off and get us together. I didn’t want to do that to either of you,” he whispered. “God that sounds so cocky, because it sounds like I assumed you liked me. I didn’t. Seriously. I hoped, but… even if you did I would never take my best friend’s girl. But god did I wish you were mine.”

You didn’t know what else to do but lean over and kiss him.

“In case it wasn’t clear. I really like you. And I’m all yours. If you want me,” you added when he swallowed nervously at your words.

“I want you. All of you.”

He cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. You didn’t pull away until oxygen was an absolute necessity, and Bucky took the opportunity to focus on your neck, tugging down the shirt you had retrieved after your first round.

“Oh, doll.”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“No more wearing Steve’s shirts. Just mine. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

A/N: So I hope you enjoyed! Not quite as fluffy as my usual fare but it’s been kicking around for a while. So thanks for reading! 

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#Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Oneshot

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 27: I Wanne Be The Slipped – Word Upon Your Lip

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – . 

AN: Sooo, this is finally going to continue. I know it's just been a month and there even was the surprise interlude, but to me, it felt like it's been ages. And I can't really say why.

So, NaNoWriMo is over, and I'm proud to say that I 'won' with roughly 54'000 written words. I actually didn't expect that, so it makes me pretty happy. But I also have to confess that only about 15'000 of these words were for FTLOAP... when I'd planned to only write that and build a bit of a buffer. Ah, well, that's how it is. So I wrote a couple of one-shots and drabbles, a couple of chapters for 'Undine', nearly the entire story 'Lessons In Dancing And Dreaming' which I'll start to post soon, the entire outline and the first chapters to a Ballet AU... Looking at all this, I think I needed a break from FTLOAP which pretty much ruled my life for this entire year (HOW IS IT DECEMBER ALREADY?). So that's good. Back with new energy! Or at least I hope so...

Anyway, here's another chapter where I knew pretty early which lyrics I would use as a title. It's "I Wanne Be The Slipped (slipped) Wor Upon Your Lip (lip)", once more from 'Whatever It Takes' by Imagine Dragons. (I like this song very much and I can promise that there will be at least more chapter named after lyrics from this song...)

. o O o .

 To Hiccup, the trip back to the stables was barely more than a blur. He remembered – vaguely – that they’d said their farewell to Cami, agreeing upon coming to visit her again soon. And he also dimly remembered how Eret and Dagur had walked off into the direction of the castle once they’d left the city streets behind them. They’d asked if he wanted to come with them – “to spend the night in a real bed for once” – but he’d refused. He quite liked the solitude of the stables, and the accommodations there weren’t all that uncomfortable anyway.

And he definitely needed the time alone to work through everything Cami had said.

Some bits were simple or wouldn’t affect him for a long while to come, like the whole topic about Astrid’s maidenhead. From what Cami had said, Hiccup supposed it was quite possible that its state was checked upon every now and again, simply due to the ‘value of the virgin princess to the kingdom’. Given her love of horseback riding, it could easily break by accident, after all. If that happened, then Astrid would have to spend a couple of months secluded within Frigga’s temple to ensure that she wasn’t pregnant before their wedding. Nothing bad, all in all, but inconvenient, which meant that he wasn’t by any means to break it. That was simple logic and easy to remember.

Cami’s lesson on how to eventually break it while inflicting as little pain as possible had been a bit more complicated. But Hiccup decided not to dwell on that. All that was still so far away in their future, and he would receive this lesson again once the time came, after all.

But what really occupied his mind was the question what he would do once he and Astrid got the chance to be alone again. What would he tell her, what would he do? Of course, he had to explain, to apologise, had to assure her that it had been his mistake, and not hers. And he had to make it up to her. If she wanted that.

Thinking about how to make it up to her made him swallow, though. He knew some men struggled with impatience when it came to pleasing women, but he himself never had that problem. He loved to thoroughly explore his partner’s body and to please them, with the reactions he elicited driving his own arousal higher. But the prospect of doing so with Astrid, of finding the spots that made her shiver and of learning all her noises and subtle signs – everything without the fears of breaking the rules – it was nearly more than he could bear right now.

And that was another reason why he hadn’t accepted the offer to sleep in the castle. He couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t try to sneak his way into her rooms if he were to spend the night in such close proximity, and he knew how dangerous that would be. It was too much of a risk.

No, he would have to wait until she could come to the stables again, hopefully soon, maybe even tomorrow night already.

Oh, Gods, please, let her come here tomorrow, he silently prayed as he reached the field in front of the stables. It wasn’t just because of his desire for her though, he reminded himself as he pushed open the door and entered the relatively warm stables. He could deal with that problem well enough by himself. No, it was so much more than that. He reached up to kindle the lantern near the entrance, smiling at the prospect of just gazing at her smile again, of hearing her laugh, of holding and kissing her, of talking freely. Once again, two days were already enough to miss her terribly, the gleam in her eyes, her voice, the sense of warmth and rightness she emitted.

“Hiccup?”

Gods, he thought he could even hear her voice. Hiccup chuckled, shaking his head at himself. He really was a lovesick fool, there was no point in denying that. And he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“Hiccup, is that you?”

Hiccup flinched, then whirled around in an instant when he heard her voice again. With wide eyes, he stared into the darkness beyond the light of his lantern, at where, slowly, a shadowy outline was forming.

Astrid, wrapped into his warm blanket, stood at the entrance to his stall. She looked tired as if she’d just woken up, sleepily rubbing her eyes and blinking into the light, but smiled when her gaze became clearer.

“You’re back!”

. o O o .

Astrid couldn’t deny that she felt a little stupid.

She’d known that Hiccup wouldn’t be at the stables, after all. She’d known that he wouldn’t be back until late in the night, and fresh out of the bed of one of Freya’s Ástir. She had no illusions there, and wasn’t even sure what she expected. But it didn’t really matter to her how late he would return or how exhausted he would be – so long as she could see him that night. Talk to him.

After an hour of fitfully tossing and turning in her bed, of constantly thinking about him, and worrying over his weird behaviour during the last days, she had decided that waiting another day wasn’t feasible. She wouldn’t find any sleep tonight anyway. So she’d made her way to the stables after all, fully prepared to wait for him – only to fall asleep after all once she was nestled into his blanket, surrounded by his scent and that of fresh hay and the soothing noises of the horses.

But now he was here, looking so achingly beautiful in the dim light of the lantern, and stared at her in utter disbelief.

“A-Astrid?” he gasped, and yes, she couldn’t help but feel stupid.

What if he didn’t even want her to be here? He’d already spent the last couple of hours with a woman, after all. Self-consciously, she pulled his blanket around her shoulders tighter.

“Yes, I-I’m sorry for intruding here.” She let her gaze shift to the side, not wanting to see his reluctance or maybe even annoyance. He’d been so reclusive during the last two days, so why would he want her to be here now? “I just… I wanted to see you. Talk. I-I missed you, and… and…”

She didn’t get the chance to get out more of her stammered explanation. Hiccup crossed the distance between them with only a few strides of his long legs, and before she could utter even one more word, she found herself caught in a tight embrace.

“Oh, Astrid,” he mumbled, muffled against her neck and into her hair as he practically curled himself around her. “Astrid, I’m so sorry! I was an idiot and a fool, and afraid, and I’m sorry, so sorry.”

He kept on repeating his apology over and over, but Astrid didn’t register much of his words. With his arms holding her, his lips moving against her skin, and his warmth surrounding her, all anxiety momentarily melted off her. She wanted to return his embrace, to pull herself closer against him, but with his blanket still wrapped around her, that wasn’t practical. So she just burrowed deeper into his embrace, sighing in relief.

They were good.

Always.

Eventually, Hiccup retreated to look at her. “I missed you too,” he belatedly replied to her words, brushing away wayward strands of her hair. The touch of his fingers on her skin felt good, even as they trembled slightly. “And I’m so sorry. If I promise to try and make it up to you, do you think you can forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” she asked, frowning slightly, but distracted as she leaned into his touch. “For what?”

“For chasing you away the other night,” he explained in a remorseful tone.

Astrid frowned. “Oh… that…” She hadn’t thought of that night as something he needed to apologise for. It had been wonderful to feel him so close, something she hoped to repeat soon. But then, she still didn’t really understand what had even happened.

“Yes, that.” He swallowed, then gazed into her eyes as if he was looking for something. “I’m sorry,” he said once again. “My behaviour was stupid and I can only guess how confusing that must have been for you.”

“What even happened?” she asked a little sheepishly, shrugging. “For me, it was… everything was perfect, and then suddenly… it wasn’t.”

“It was my fault… And I owe you an explanation.” Sighing, Hiccup released her from his embrace, but only to pull her along to sit down more comfortably in his stall. Astrid watched him, unsure where to sit down herself, but then decided that being cautious didn’t really feel right. So she climbed onto his lap, and wrapped the blanket around them both as a sorry excuse for an excuse – which earned her a loving smile from Hiccup that made her heart beat a little faster.

“You were right,” he began, playing absently with a loose strand of her hair. “With what you said the other day, I mean. Nothing of what ever happened between us has followed any of the rules for proper decorum. Meeting you in the first place, seeking you out in that darkened room, kissing you whenever we could steal a moment… None of that was right by any official standards. But it was also still… safe, if you know what I mean.”

He gave her an intent look, searching for understanding, and Astrid nodded. She did know what he meant – vaguely. But she couldn’t agree. To her, those stolen moments hadn’t felt safe, although for different reasons than what he was implying. She had always felt safe with Hiccup… but at the same time she’d been concerned for his safety.

“But when you came here that first night,” he continued in a low voice. “That changed. Here, at night, we suddenly had so much time, and there was nothing that would stop us from… from going too far. So I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let it go too far. That I would be good, that I would at least stick to a few of the rules I’ve been taught…”

Astrid watched him closely as he spoke, watched how his features tensed a little and his smile faded. She had an inkling to where he was going, and she felt a spark of guilt nag at her – because she had been the one who’d pushed him. But they hadn’t done anything wrong… had they?

“But the last time you were here… I felt like we were walking a thin line along the edges of those rules. I knew it was… risky, but I thought that I could manage. You are too important to me, so I thought I’d be able to ‘not make a mistake’. But then I failed, and I… I freaked.”

Letting out a deep breath, Hiccup lowered his head to lean against hers – as if he needed her support. It was a pleasant if somewhat strange sensation. Usually, it felt more like it was him who lent her his strength than the other way around.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” he finally muttered. “It was stupid, I know that now.”

“You… could have just told me, you know?” Astrid noted carefully.

Hiccup gasped out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that would have been the better thing to do, wouldn’t it?” His hands on her back felt good, warm as he slowly rubbed up and down.

Astrid was quiet for a moment, and then asked, “Why didn’t you? You… can tell me everything, remember?” The implication that he didn’t trust her… stung.

Hiccup lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I know… I know that I can tell you everything. It was more that… that I thought I couldn’t talk with you about... this! That I mustn’t… I’ve been taught not to talk about sex with anyone but an Ástir. Even joking with Eret and the others feels… strange to me. All of this breaches rules I thought were set in stone, and… Well, I think I was afraid of what would happen if we broke those.”

He gave her a long and pleading look as if he was asking for forgiveness. But Astrid still couldn’t see why he would need that. He’d only done what he thought was right, after all. Even if she hoped that they could solve it together, should a misunderstanding like this ever come up again.

But there was one other point in what he’d said that occupied her mind even more. Not necessarily what he’d said, but how. Because he’d used the past tense.

“So,” she began, nervously biting her lip, but then lifted her eyes back to his. “Does that mean you’re not afraid anymore?”

. o O o .

Hiccup gazed into her deep blue eyes, and idly contemplated how easily he could lose himself in them. He could look into them all day, trying to uncover every aspect of the beautiful person within. But she’d asked a question, and even though it sounded casual, he understood the deeper meaning behind her words.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, voice husky. His heartbeat quickened at that confession, and he could see how Astrid’s breathing got a little heavier too. He pondered how to phrase what he wanted to say, how he could make clear that he wasn’t demanding anything. Only offering. “Astrid,” he began, “I’ve… learned a few things tonight, about these rules. And… and if you still want to-to know how it’s supposed to feel then… then I can show you.”

Hiccup didn’t have to wait long for an answer. She didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes brightened with joy, and a moment later her mouth was pressed against his. He responded with a low groan at feeling her soft lips and tasting her sweet tongue, and wound his arms around her to pull her closer, even as she was soundly pressed against him already.

“I do,” she gasped in-between kisses, her hand tightening into his tunic at his back as he lightly nibbled at her lower lip. “I-I want to know… please.”

Hiccup hadn’t needed such a verbal confirmation, not with how eagerly she was kissing him. But it was good to hear it nonetheless, good to know that they were on the same page. Because he, too, couldn’t deny that he was eager to show her.

Deftly holding on to her, he rolled them around until she lay on the straw beneath him. She let out a breathy giggle, eyes gleaming with excitement as he once more leaned over her, careful not to hurt her by resting his weight on her too much.

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered urgently. She somewhat sobered up, apparently sensing how serious he was.

“Anything,” she replied with an earnest smile, reaching to caress his lips with her fingertips.

It made his mouth twitch, but he quickly grew serious again. “Promise me that you will tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, holding her gaze in an effort to communicate the importance of what he was saying. “If you don’t like what I’m doing, or if you need a break, or want to try something else, then please tell me so. Okay?”

She seemed to understand, her eyes growing wide, and she gulped. “I promise,” she whispered.

Hiccup nodded, swallowing, then, almost ridiculously carefully, leaned down to brush his lips against hers. It started as a slow and measured kiss, but it didn’t take long until them moving together developed its own dynamic. He knew what he wanted to try, where he wanted to go, but it was fun to get there at Astrid’s pace, to experience all these small moments of her courage, of her deepening their kiss and of her holding him tighter on her own account. Hiccup just took it all in and played along in kind, focused on how she reacted to his teeth nipping at her lip, to his breath tickling at her ear, or to his tongue tracing the vein running down her throat.

Soon, he was acting solely by instinct, drinking in her reactions to everything he did, memorising what she seemed to like and what left her mewling. His left hand glided up her front, but instead of cupping and fondling her breast, like he’d done and enjoyed the other night, he planned to go a little further. If she agreed…

His hand came to a halt between and above her breasts, a place where it had rested so often during the past weeks. But tonight, that gesture had another meaning. Because it rested over the cords that held the upper part of her simple dress closed. Breathing heavily, Hiccup retreated a little to look at her, to ask her permission. With flushed cheeks, Astrid stared up at him for a moment, glanced down at her heaving chest beneath his hand, then back up at him – and nodded.

Holding her gaze to gauge her every reaction, Hiccup blindly fiddled with the bow that held the cords tight until it loosened. With slightly shaking hands but without hesitation, Astrid wriggled beneath him, apparently intent on showing that she wasn’t about to change her mind. A minute later, she lay still again, expectantly gazing up at him. Wearing nothing above her waist but a beautiful blush and a thin chain with a key as a charm around her neck. He couldn’t keep a low moan from slipping out his throat at the sight. Her pearly white skin had a light golden shimmer in the dim light of the lantern, the flickering fire drawing dancing shadows onto her body. Everything was visible, her firm breasts with the already hardened nipples, but also every line of muscles beneath her skin, her collarbones, the indentation at the base of her throat. The flush in her cheeks reached all the way down her neck, and her eyes were gleaming, excitement and joy clearly visible inside them – and not a single trace of fear.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Hiccup learned how to play her body. He started with his hands, caressing her skin, feeling her and letting her feel him in return. He watched the tiniest of dark clouds flicker up and disappear in her eyes as he cupped her bare breast, and drank in the high-pitched whine she made as he carefully pinched the sensitive bud at its top.

Time lost all meaning. For all Hiccup knew, hours could have past while he explored her body, learned what she liked and at the same time taught her what her body was able to feel. It was intense, her every reaction so powerful that it felt like a lightning bolt shooting through his own body as well. Like the beautiful cry she made when his mouth closed over one nipple to suckle at it, the way she writhed beneath him, leaning into every contact, seeking more, or how her entire body bent and buckled when he placed one knee between her legs to let his thigh press and rub against that sweet spot hidden beneath layers of cloth. It was mind-blowing, and he loved every second as he lost himself in the moment, in her moans and little sobs, in the way her back arched in search of more and her hands clutched at his hair and clothes as if to make sure he wouldn’t stop.

As if he ever would.

“Hiccup...”

At first, he thought the breathy moan slipping off her lips was meant as a plea for a break. But before he could react, her body beneath him became taught, her fist in his hair clutching almost painfully. A moment later, Astrid’s lewd cry echoed through the stables as she shook, spasming. Groaning against her breast beneath his mouth, Hiccup held her tight, trying to anchor her through what most likely was her first orgasm ever.

When she calmed, he slowly let go of her and pushed himself up until his head was level with hers again. Her face was slack; her lips were parted and visibly red from her biting on them. She was taking in panting breaths, and her eyes, that had a glassy shimmer, were gazing rather unseeingly at the ceiling above them.

“What…. What was....” she muttered weakly, visibly fighting to focus her gaze, but not quite managing yet.

Licking his dry lips, Hiccup reached to cup her face with his hand, thumb gently rubbing her cheek. “That’s… how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, a little apprehensive. “Are you okay?”

Astrid gasped out something like a laugh. She closed her eyes and, with a sigh, leaned into his hand on her face. When she opened her eyes again, they were soft and glowing with a warmth from deep within. “I’m okay,” she whispered as her gaze eventually focused on him. “More than okay. That was… was…” she trailed off, laughing weakly as aftershocks ran through her body. She shifted closer until her head rested against his arm, cuddling into him. “Can.... can we do that again some day?”

Chuckling, Hiccup pulled her into an embrace and a kiss, wrapping his blanket around them both to ward of a chill when he felt how sweaty she was. “Of course,” he mumbled against her lips, feeling how she smiled. “As often as you want.”

. o O o .

Astrid couldn’t describe how she felt, not even to herself. She felt weak, her body gone pliant and soft, and yet there was something incredibly powerful and encouraging in the way she lay in Hiccup’s arms. She hadn’t bothered yet to properly put her dress on again, and while that should have made her feel vulnerable, all she felt was safe. And she simply couldn't get enough of it.

At first, the sensation of his hands and arms, of the rough fabric of his tunic and the even rougher fabric of his blanket on her bare skin had been… weird. Not even Ruff would touch her bare skin when she bathed her. Feeling Hiccup now, so close and intimate and… and casual… it was strange. Unfamiliar.

Of course, it already had been so right from the beginning, when he’d purposefully induced all those overwhelming sensations in her body. Sensations she hadn’t even known were possible and that she was eager to feel again.

But right now, with them lazily cuddling and kissing, enveloped in that blanket and each other’s warmth… the combination of fabric on skin just felt strange – wrong even in a way. And it took her fuzzy mind a while before she realised what it was that bothered her.

“Hiccup… can I ask you for something?” she asked after gathering her courage.

Hiccup, currently nuzzling her behind her ear, chuckled. “Whatever you want,” he hummed, the sensation sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

And yet, she hesitated. What she wanted to ask… it felt like a huge step. Like yet another rule someone somewhere must have established. But then… They already had pushed one quite heavy boundary tonight; maybe it was worth it to see just how far they could push it.

Instead of an answer, she let her hands wander down his chest, feeling him but at the same time not feeling him – only rough fabric. Hiccup tensed a little when her hand reached his stomach and still wandered further down. But before he could react, she’d reached her goal, the hem of his tunic. Tentatively, she let her hand glide beneath the fabric, over the hot skin over his abdomen, feeling his muscles move beneath.

“Can you… take this off?” she finally mumbled. “I… I’d like to see you too. To feel you.”

There was a strange gleam in Hiccup’s eyes as he gazed at her, as if he was proud in a way, but it quickly vanished and got replaced by a warm and soft smile. He nodded, then sat up and took off his tunic in one fluid motion. A tiny part of her was jealous at how quickly and easily he could get rid of his clothes, but that thought vanished as soon as her eyes landed on his bare skin.

It wasn’t entirely smooth like her own, but littered with scars of varying sizes. Most were small, barely more than faint lines over freckled skin, but there was one that stood out. Or two, actually. Two long lines running like rifts from his left shoulder over his back all the way to his right hip.

“Oh, Freya,” she gasped. “What happened?”

Hiccup halfway turned toward her, looking a little apprehensive. “A Monstrous Nightmare was about to raid our stables. And foolhardy as I was, I jumped in to chase it away.” Hiccup shrugged, chuckling self-consciously.

“A monstrous... what?” Astrid asked, confused by the unfamiliar term as she hesitantly reached out to caress Hiccup’s back.

He sighed at her touch, noticeably relaxing beneath her hand. “A Monstrous Nightmare,” he repeated. “It’s a dragon species, one that’s quite common in the North. Vicious beasts that can set themselves on fire, very territorial.” Sighing again, he leaned back a little more, into her touch. “Mmh, that feels good.”

Encouraged by his reaction, Astrid scooted a little closer, running both her hands over his bare back, exploring. The part of her that was trained in medical matters noticed that the scars on his back had healed far better than the one on his leg, the one that made him limp and which still hurt. From what she could determine, this wound must have been equally bad, if not worse. And yet, these were much smoother. As if they'd gotten better – far better – treatment.

Or maybe he'd just been lucky. Astrid pushed the thought aside as her hands wandered on, lightly massaging the tense muscles. “So… You actually fought dragons?” she asked carefully. She didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing up his past… but he’d started it, and that small comment alone already made her curious. To her, dragons had always been a mystery. She'd never seen one at anything that resembled close range, and hadn't ever heard anyone tell tales about it either. Even Eret had never encountered one, even though they were more common around Eastervale than they were here.

Snorting, Hiccup shook his head. “No, I haven't. Not really,” he mumbled, and further relaxed beneath her hands. “Only fully initiated warriors are allowed to actually fight dragons; they can be incredibly dangerous if you aren’t careful enough. Everyone else gets other tasks: extinguishing fires, chasing away dragons from the livestock or the storage barns, taking care of the children and the elderly, handing out weapons… stuff like that.”

“And you were not a warrior?” she asked, somewhat surprised. She’d seen him fight over the last few days. And while he surely hadn’t been the best fighter she’d ever seen, he’d still been far from being bad either. But apparently, that hadn’t been the right question to ask.

Hiccup tensed. “No, I wasn’t,” he confirmed in a strained voice. “I hadn’t passed the test yet, and… and I…” He trailed off, noticeably trembling now.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. She leaned closer, forehead resting against his back and her hand flat against his skin. “You don’t need to tell me now.” In fact, she didn’t want him to tell her now, not if it upset him in any way. They had all their lives to learn about each other’s pasts. She didn't want to taint tonight's special mood with such things.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Hiccup awkwardly turned his head in her direction, his intentions clear. Astrid reacted eagerly, shifted too until they faced each other. For an endless second, Hiccup just gazed at her, wonder and adoration glowing in his eyes, before he kissed her. In comparison, the kiss was a relatively calm one, tame with only their lips gliding together. But only because Astrid was thoroughly distracted by other sensations.

His skin against hers felt amazing. Smooth and hot, sliding against her like nothing she’d felt before. Her hands followed, trying to feel and get to know him as much as possible. The way his lean muscles moved as he held her tight, how his chest rose with every panting breath. She couldn’t get enough of him.

. o O o .

Hiccup felt like the whole world was spinning around him. In one moment, images of burning houses had flickered behind his eyes, and he’d felt the old pain all over again. And in the next, there had been deep blue eyes to chase away the fire, soft skin to soothe the pain. Astrid was like a remedy to all his suffering, and he drank her in eagerly.

Every soft moan she made, every little touch of bare skin on skin was enough to forget the sorrows of the past and to look forward to their future. And, Gods, did he want this future with her. Never had the simple touch of hands on his back affected him like Astrid’s light massage, and feeling her so close now, her bare breasts pressing against his chest, nearly robbed him of all his senses.

With a low groan, he pulled her tighter, grinding against her in search of more contact. No matter how much of her skin he mapped with his hands, no matter how much she mapped of his in return, it seemed like it would never be enough. All her low moans and her whimpering when he found yet another sensitive spot wasn’t enough to sate his yearning for more, so when she retreated, pulling him down with her, he gave in without a second thought.

Soon, he was blanketing her with his body, drunk by all these powerful sensations she elicited. He felt her mouth on his neck, hot and smooth, and he couldn’t help but moan as she ran her tongue over his skin, sucking lightly, tasting him. Freya, did it ever feel good.

“Astrid,” he moaned her name in a rare moment of something resembling clarity, when she was distracted by his hand playing with her breasts. “What… what do you want?” He knew that she wouldn’t yet know what exactly she wanted. But he still wanted to make sure, didn’t want to push her too far. He wanted her, only the Gods knew how much, but only if it was what she wanted too.

She looked up at him, dazed, clearly trying to form an answer. “You,” she finally whispered. “More. I-I want more of you. Of this.” She let her hand glide across his chest, her other one reaching around his neck, not quite pulling him down but the implication was there. Freya, she was amazing. Sighing, he nodded, then gave in and leaned down to kiss her again.

When she parted her legs and he effortlessly slotted between her thighs, Hiccup gasped out a short laugh. This was so much easier than the first time she’d lain beneath him like this. That time, he’d been torn; between the longing to fulfil her wish and the fear of going too far, between how right it had felt to be so close to her and his guilt over how wrong what they’d been doing had been. But this time, there was no fear, and no guilt either. This time, nothing distracted him from focussing all his actions on Astrid and on where he wanted to take her, and nothing kept him from enjoying every moment of it.

Their wet kisses that became more and more distracted. Their bare torsos touching, the slide of skin on skin overwhelming. The way she gasped as he pressed against her, the bulge in his trousers against the fine fabric of her underwear. It was intoxicating, wonderful, and just so very, very right.

Hiccup let himself drown in the moment, in being with Astrid and all the sensations. Her hot skin on his and her hands holding on tight, the beautiful flush on her skin and the spark in her eyes, the sweet taste of her lips and the salty taste of her skin, her gasps and whimpers, her scent of mayweed and sunshine mixed with the earthy scent of fresh hay. It was maddening, and staying focused became harder with every minute.

He pushed himself up on his forearms, both to be able to watch her every reaction and to have more leverage as he started a steady rhythm of grinding and rocking against her. Every now and then, he dipped down to place a random kiss onto her face or to nibble at her exposed throat when she bent back her head.

It was a heady mess of rocking motions and panted breath, of clutching hands on sweaty skin and whispered nonsense-words, until the sensations became too strong to even think. His world condensed down to Astrid beneath him, her mewling and whimpering, to the way she clung to him, eyes closed and lips parted.

When Astrid began to move on her own, instinctively seeking more friction by rutting up against him, it was nothing but sheer willpower that kept him from falling apart right then and there. He felt like he might tumble into blissful relief any moment, but he owed it to her to hold back, just… just a little longer.

“Oh, Gods,” she moaned, her back arching up which made her breasts press against him, her nipples scraping over his skin. “I… I… Hi-Hiccup!”

Her cry was louder this time, and Hiccup reacted without thinking. He leaned down to cover her mouth with his, swallowing her noises of pleasure, and it wouldn’t have taken the sharp pain of her fingernails in his back or her frantically jerking against him to push him over the edge as well. Her crying out his name like a prayer was enough.

Groaning, he came shortly after her, once again making a mess in his trousers but not really caring one bit. It was a moment of blissful perfection. And it took nearly all his remaining strength and control not to crush her, to roll to the side instead and hold her in his arms as they slowly drifted down from their height.

. o O o .

Astrid felt as if she was made of jelly, all her bones melted away and muscles too weak to make even the tiniest move. Trying to catch her breath, she lay in Hiccup’s arms, basking in the slowly dwindling rush from just moments ago, and couldn’t be happier.

“Oh Gods, that was… that was just… I… wow… I mean...” She felt like she needed to say something, to let Hiccup know how she felt, how incredible this had been. But there didn’t seem to be words suitable, nothing that was strong enough.

But he seemed to understand. With a low chuckle, he brushed his lips against her forehead, then pulled back to look at her. His eyes were soft, peaceful, his smile easy and warm. “I’m glad you liked it,” he murmured, and lifted one hand to brush aside a few strands of sweaty hair from her face. It was something he’d already done so many times, and yet… It felt different. More intense, as if his touch reached deeper than his fingers on her skin. As if they’d grown even closer.

So she didn’t feel like she needed to answer, didn’t need words to convey how she felt. She just smiled, and snuggled into his hand, enjoying how he made her feel with nothing but such a simple gesture.

After a moment or three, he chuckled. “I have to apologise, though,” he mumbled, voice slow and sleepy. “I had... orders not to come until I made you come three times. And those were only two. I’m sorry. I… I’ll catch up on that… as soon as I can move again.”

Come? Was that how that intense explosion of sensations and feelings was called? Astrid filed the word away in her head as she awkwardly huddled closer to Hiccup, cuddling against his warm torso. “I think I’m okay,” she replied, also chuckling. “Maybe later.” On the one hand, she wanted nothing more than to experience another one of these explosions, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure whether she could stand it right now. Her entire body was tingling and her mind foggy enough as it was.

Her words made Hiccup laugh in earnest, although he, too, seemed to be anything but unaffected, his motions slow and speaking of fatigue. He sighed, then propped himself up on one arm, gazing down at her with eyes that were filled with wonder.

“There’s one other thing I realised today,” he whispered. “No, that’s not true. I knew it already, but… but I realised that I never told you.”

His words sounded meaningful and maybe would have made her worry a little. But he seemed to be completely at ease, so she just gave him a lazy, questioning look, indicating him to go on.

Hiccup smiled, once more reaching to cup her cheek with one hand, and softly caressed her with his thumb. “I realised that I never told you that I love you. So I better rectify that.” His gaze, still entirely soft and relaxed, got a few degrees more intense. “I love you, Astrid. With everything I am.”

A few moments before, Astrid had thought she couldn’t possibly be any happier. But she’d been wrong. Her heart was swelling at his words, flowing over with warmth and joy. Not that she’d had any doubts, not anymore, not really – but it was good to hear it nonetheless.

Slowly, always holding Hiccup’s gaze, she placed her hand on his cheek, felt the rough stubbles on his chiselled jaw. “I love you too,” she whispered, the joy in her heart bubbling over and making her giggle. “Gods, I do. I love you, Hiccup.”

Hiccup beamed and, letting out a deep sigh, leaned into her touch, eyes closing for a second, before he kissed her once more.

It was a sensual and unhurried kiss. Astrid could hear one of the horses snort past her slowly calming heartbeat, and she enjoyed the warm slide of skin over skin, his chest against hers, as they slowly, almost lazily even, nipped at each other’s lips. Now, with the tension from before completely melted away, Astrid felt as if she could appreciate Hiccup on an even deeper level. Every touch, every look, every moment they shared suddenly seemed so much more meaningful and at the same time so effortless, as if they were forging an additional layer to that bond that connected them.

And when they eventually settled for sleepy cuddles, her head resting on his chest and his heartbeat the most soothing sound she could ever imagine, she thought that she’d never felt as much at home like in this moment.

. o O o .

Hiccup woke to the familiar noises of the horses waking up – and the pleasant yet highly unfamiliar sensation of a warm and soft body halfway draped over him. At first, he was confused, but almost instantly memories of the night before flooded his mind; of hot skin and soft flesh, of Astrid mewling and of her fingers digging into his back, of whispered ‘I love you’s and of feeling closer to her than ever before.

He sighed contently, and his hand slowly caressed her bare shoulders as he settled back. Through half-closed eyes, he gazed unseeingly at the ceiling and enjoyed the feeling of simply waking up next to her, of her sleep-warm body against his, and of simply doing something as ordinary as starting the day with her.

A second later, his eyes flew open. Shit! The horses were awake and demanding food. The night was over, the day about to start. And Astrid was still here.

“Astrid, wake up!” he muttered, and carefully shook her shoulder. “You’ve got to go back.”

Astrid groaned and tried to shake off his hand by burrowing deeper under the blanket they’d shared. “Mmhnot yet,” she mumbled almost incoherently. “Just a bit longer.”

Under different circumstances, Hiccup would have quite enjoyed her reluctance, would have gladly cuddled her a bit longer and maybe even would have made a teasing comment about her being a little grumpy in the morning. But they didn’t have time. With quite a bit of effort, he pushed himself into a sitting position, forcing Astrid to wake up more too. “Astrid, it’s already morning. You need to be back in time, remember? Come on, get up.” His voice was more urgent now, and it seemed as if his words finally reached Astrid’s mind too.

In an instant, she sat up straight, staring at him in shock, then let her eyes wander around. “Morning?” she gasped. “But… but it’s still dark outside. How long have we slept?”

Hiccup was already on his feet, wincing a little as his leg twinged a bit – and at the uncomfortable feeling of his soiled trousers – and reached for his tunic. “We must have slept for a couple of hours. The horses are waking up, which is usually my sign that the day begins. You still have at least an hour before dawn, but…”

“Oh shit,” she cursed, and scrambled to her feet too. Hearing her using such a very unladylike word made him grin, but he spared her any comment. Instead, he stepped closer to help her with correctly putting her dress back on, and actively refrained from mourning the sight of her bare skin. If her eagerness last night was anything to go by, then he guessed he would soon get the chance to enjoy it again.

Astrid cursed some more as she hastily tried to refasten the cords of her dress, and Hiccup quickly went to help her. “Here, let me do that,” he said, and stepped closer. It took him only a minute or two to thread the cords through the eyelets again, concentrating only on the practical work, and it was enough to somewhat calm them both down a bit again.

“Thanks,” she sighed once he was done, and smiled up at him.

“Anytime,” he replied, chuckling a little. “And good morning, milady.”

A wide grin spread across her face, and Hiccup tried to memorise the image in his mind as one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen; her being so happy, tired as she still was and with her hair dishevelled from sleep.

“Good morning, Hiccup.” She stretched to place a peck on his lips before she started to shake out her skirts, and Hiccup couldn’t help but chuckle at the simplicity of their interactions. It felt so good, so right, casual and easy without hesitation or nervousness. Just as it should be.

Quickly, too quickly despite frequent interruptions for light caresses or playful kisses, they had her ready to go, all stray bits of straw or hay removed and her warm cloak wrapped around her shoulders. They were about to go to the door where they would have to part, when Astrid suddenly paused and whirled around again, one hand pressed to her chest.

“My key,” she gasped, and rushed back to his sleeping stall, eyes suddenly wide with something resembling fear.

“Your key?” he asked, puzzled by her reaction. “You mean the key to the sally port? Isn’t that in the pocket of your cloak?”

Her hand flew to said pocket, searching for the clearly visible bulge the heavy key created. “No, that one’s here. I mean the other one. The one I carried as a necklace.” She’d reached the stall by now, and her eyes wandered over the straw.

“Ah, that one.” Hiccup dimly remembered her wearing it earlier in the night… But he also remembered her without it. “I… erm, I think it must have fallen off at some point,” he chuckled with slight embarrassment. His eyes roamed over the straw as well, but he knew how hopeless it was to find a small object like a necklace in it. Especially when there was only little time. “Is it important? Because you really should go back now.”

Her gaze was a little frantic now, flickering from one corner to the other, to his face, and back to where they’d spent the night in each other’s arms. “Yes, it is important,” she explained, a trace of panic in her voice. “It’s the key to a small coffer, which contains my… my treasures.” She gave him a slightly sheepish smile, but then sobered up directly again. “A doll my mother made for me, my father’s boon… your tunic,” she added, and shrugged self-consciously. “I need it.”

Biting his lip, Hiccup glanced into the stall, then nodded. “Okay, but you don’t need it now. I promise I’ll look for it, all right? But you really need to go now.”

Astrid hesitated for a moment longer, but then nodded. “All right. And yes, I should get back. I just…” she trailed off, giving him a sad look.

Hiccup sighed, and wrapped his arms around her. “I know,” he murmured into her hair. “I wish you could stay, too.”

Chuckling, she wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him close. “I’m going to miss this the moment I step outside,” she muttered. “Miss you.”

Letting out a deep breath, Hiccup hugged her tighter before he eventually let go of her. He felt as if he ought to say something, but one look into her eyes was enough. They didn't need verbal communication to know the other's feelings right now: a deeply settled calmness after this night of exploring each other, and the unmistakable sad note about having to part.

Before she left, when she was already standing in the open door, she paused one last time. She placed her hand on his cheek, and he instantly leaned into it, the simple gesture radiating a familiarity between them that hadn't been there only hours before. At least not in this intensity. Hiccup turned his head to nuzzle her hand, to first place a lingering kiss on her palm and then other more fleeting ones onto her knuckles that made her giggle. They were stalling for time and both knew it, but they couldn't find the strength to stop either.

“I love you, Hiccup,” she eventually whispered, their foreheads resting against each other now.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss her goodbye, and by the way she was biting her lip he guessed she felt similarly. But they knew that, would they give in to that urge, they'd probably never part. So he just lifted his head to press a quick kiss onto her forehead. “I love you too. So much…”

Finally, they let go of each other, their eyes holding the connection until she was barely more than a shadow moving through the night.

And Hiccup had to agree with her earlier statement. He missed her already.

. o O o .

AN: *points at the rating* You were waiting for it, right?

Next chapter

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #Hiccup and Astrid #Hiccstrid fluff #Hiccstrid lemon #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #for the love of a princess #FTLOAP

[kira-the-cat]

Sing Your Heart Out

Oh look, I’m back again with more fanfiction. This time its actually not sad! Kinda. Look, just trust me on this one its not as sad as the other two I did (one of which I scheduled wrong, I thought today was wednesday not tuesday so you’ll see the second fic tomorrow.) In all seriousness, this one is a bit more lighthearted. I’m posting here first to give a buffer between what goes up on my AO3. I’m churning fics out way too fast at this point. In any case, fic under the cut. Enjoy!

"I still don't know how you managed to talk me into going along with this, Gary." Avocato said as he and the rest of the Galaxy One crew headed to a karaoke bar Gary hadn't been able to shut up about for the last few days. With the breach to Final Space closed and Earth becoming moderately populated again they felt they had more than earned an extended break. As the entered the establishment they grabbed an adequate table up near the front stage.

"Come on Avocato, you know you wanna belt out some tunes." Gary said, flagging down a waitress so they could order drinks. "Or do you have stage fright?"

"Are you hearing this Quinn?" The Ventrexian asked the ex-Infinity Guard member.

"I dunno, Avo. Gary has a point. Only someone with stage fright would dread coming here." She said.

"So what does that make you then? You didn't wanna come." Little Cato said with a smirk.

"Oh I know you aren't lecturing me shortstop, you didn't want to come either." She said.

"Guys, guys! Save your vocal cords for the stage!" Gary said. "Let's make this a bit more interesting. Why don't we make a bet. Person that gets the crowd the most excited with their singing won't have to do chores for two months."

"No chores? Count me in!" Little Cato said eagerly. Like a typical teenager he was always looking for an excuse to get out of chores and if he had to sing some rock music to do it then he definitely would.

"Hey if it means that I don't have to wash the ship every weekend I'm down." Avocato said. Karaoke wasn't really his thing but with a voice as deep as his he could easily win this by picking a good R&B song.

"Two months of just relaxing without having to vacuum up KVN's cookie crumbs? Sounds like heaven to me, I'm in." Quinn said with a smirk, determined to win. Unbeknownst to her crewmates, Quinn was a semi-professionally trained singer and had been a choir girl for years before her stint in the Infinity Guard. They didn't stand a chance.

"Then its settled! We'll draw straws to see who will be the first victim." He said, going to grab a handful of straws. The four of them drew one by one with Gary going last. "Alright, so Quinn is first, LC's second, Avocato you're third which leaves the best for last, me."

"You guys are going down." Quinn said, getting up to talk with the DJ. They all performed to varying levels of success. Quinn won the ladies over with her rendition of Broken Clocks by Sza, Little Cato got everyone headbanging with System of a Down's Chop Suey, and Avocato came to make the panties drop with Careless Whisper by Wham. All of them won over the crowd in their own ways and it seemed like there wouldn't be a clear cut winner. Gary was a bit nervous, especially since his song wasn't something flashy like the others. He also had another reason to be nervous but he pushed that aside in favor of his usual cocky facade to conceal things.

"Well you all did your best, but your best is about to be not good enough." He said as he got up from the table to head over to the DJ booth. He took a deep breath as he told the DJ what he wanted to sing, cheeks just a bit red in embarrassment. The DJ raised an eyebrow but he'd gotten weirder requests before and confirmed that he could do that for Gary. He took the mic handed to him and headed up to the stage. He could hear his pulse racing in his ears and part of him thought this was an incredibly bad idea, that he should just go pick a different song. But another, stronger part of him wanted to do it.

He stood in the center of the stage, watching the teleprompter so he wouldn't have to stare out into the crowd and panic. A hush fell over the patrons as the lights dimmed and a spotlight fell on Gary. He brought the mic up to his lips and nodded at the DJ, who started the track. A gentle piano intro started, light yet soulful at the same time before he began.

"If I could begin to be, half of what you think of me. I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love...."

He looked out into the crowd, eyes locking with Avocato's and suddenly, all doubt and anxiety washed away as he sang.

"When I see the way you act, wondering when I'm coming back. I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you. Love like you."

Avocato, as well as Quinn and Little Cato, were completely stunned by not only Gary's song choice, but also the fact that he could actually sing. The emotions Gary was holding onto couldn't be contained any longer and he couldn't stop them from pouring into the song lyrics as he sang.

"I always thought I might be bad now I'm sure that its true. 'Cause I think you're so good, and I'm nothing like you. Look at you go! I just adore you I wish that I knew.....what makes you think I'm so special....."

He didn't even realize when he stood up and walked over to the stage, all he knew was that suddenly he was face to face, eyes locked to his as he continued singing.

"If I could begin to do, something that does right by you. I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love.....When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took I could do about anything I could even learn how to love like you. Love me, like you."

He finished softly, the piano slowly closing out as the crowd watched in silence. Gary's cheeks burned bright red as Avocato stared at him.

"Did you....did you do that for me?" He asked carefully. Gary simply nodded, mouth dry as he felt all eyes on them. He didn't even have time to react as Avocato pulled him into a kiss, the crowd erupting into cheers as they watched. When he pulled away Gary had the most delightfully dazed look on his face.

"I...take it you liked the song?" He asked, still a bit hesitant despite having just been smooched in a crowded karaoke bar by the man he spent the last three minutes serenading.

"I loved it." He said, kissing him again. After finally getting down off the stage and being bought several rounds of drinks by some very moved patrons in the bar, they headed back home. "I swear, if I knew this was what you were willing to go through just to ask me out I'd have said yes to coming sooner. You coulda just asked without going through such an elaborate set up."

"Yeah but then you wouldn't have heard me blow the minds of everyone in the crowd, win the bet, and get us free drinks." Gary boasted, full of liquid courage and feeling a bit sassy. "Which reminds me, I in fact won the bet. I got the crowd the most pumped and moved which means I don't have to do jack for the next two months."

"Hey wait, that's cheating!" Little Cato declared. "I didn't know the bet was just part of your plan to ask my dad out!"

"And since it was your plan shouldn't that automatically disqualify you from the bet?" Quinn added.

"She's got you there, babe." Avocato chimed in.

"Hey, I'm the captain of this crew! And I say the bet was still valid even though it was all part of my grand and elaborate scheme to get Avocato to go out with me!" He said. "Therefore, I still win because I said so."

"That's not at all how it works. Not even remotely."

"We should see what H.U.E has to say about your idea."

"Tough titty whompahs. And H.U.E has no say in this, I'm the captain after all!" Avocato just chuckled and shook his head, slinging his arm over Gary's shoulders.

"Whatever you say, captain. At least your plan worked." He said, kissing his new boyfriend on the cheek. Gary blushed, rather happy with how this situation turned out. Yeah they were fighting about a dumb bet he definitely, without a doubt won, but it was still a good feeling and he couldn't be happier.

So a bit of an afternote; this started as something for my Forces AU stuff but I couldn’t work the idea in because it felt too rushed for the pairing I’m trying to slow burn. But I didn’t want the idea to go to waste so I figured I’d put out another Final Space fic while the idea was still fresh. The song choices also have some importance as well. I gave Broken Clocks to Quinn because it fit her personality and Sza is bae. Chop Suey fit Lil C’s looks and personality greatly and I just wanted an excuse to have Avocato singing Careless Whisper. I also kept the song choice Love Like You for Gary because the lyrics fit his less boisterous personality and insecurities so well. Plus its one of my favorite songs from Steven Universe.

#Final Space #fanfiction #song fic #lucky you you guys get the fic first #garycato #forgot about that

[fountainpenguin]

Summer Status

Yesterday, I officially completed Prompt 124, “This Is a Box”- the Prompt about Timmy, Chloe, and Poof braving Pixie World during the Black Friday / Cyber Monday / Gray Tuesday shopping season. I’m very excited. I’ve been chasing this idea for almost two years now, and I was so disappointed not to have it out last November, so it’s thrilling to hold it in its completed glory. It came out to be 24,875 words barring future touch-ups, easily making it the longest single piece of the Prompts (since “This Is Halloween” was broken into three).

I knew that I was close to finishing this one. Agonizingly so... At least, that’s what I told myself back when it was at 10,000 words. You know me. Now that it’s done, I have officially finished all the fanwritings that have been haunting me these last few months. Due to me taking the first chapter of Identity Theft in a very different direction than originally expected, literally all my choices from here on out are either spoilers or writers’ block pieces that need some time and effort to push through. It works out for my ‘fic hiatus.

Anyway, here’s how things are gonna go:

As I believe you guys know, I’ve been working on my novel lately. I’ve been trying to cut fanfics out of my mind. “This Is a Box” was bugging me since it was supposed to be done in November, but as you can see, it is officially done and out of my head. My mind is on my novel now.

I will not be answering Asks at this time. You are welcome to send them, but I won’t be answering any until September.

Tomorrow’s update will be the Act 1 finale for Frayed Knots, after which it will be on hiatus until further notice. It will probably pick up in August, maybe September.

I have three completed Prompts waiting in my Document Manager on FFN (Happily totaling over 50,000 words just on their own- Hurrah!)

The first Prompt you get will of course be “This Is a Box”, followed by “Shadow” (the Hiccup-centric Prompt), and then by “Hate That I Love You” (the story of H.P.’s parents, and how H.P.’s grandpa tried to kill him when he was a baby because of his freckles).

‘Fic updates will be released two weeks apart from one another, and will be spaced out with worldbuilding posts on this blog. Four ‘fic updates and four or five blog updates should keep you plenty busy this summer. You can always go back and reread old stuff if you run out of new content... Who knows, you might even catch something you missed on your first read now that you look at it with fresh eyes.

My blog will mostly be worldbuilding posts and preview images for ‘fic updates for a bit. Any other content will probably be related to the novel I’m working on this summer. I did draw a reference image for Smoky (Anti-Dusty), but I’m not happy with it, so I’ll probably redo it before I share.

The next Prompts will be “Trying Too Hard” (which is another Gary and Betty piece that comes with its own game-changers, and finally introduces us to the third Learn-A-Torium employee) and “Whatever” (which will kick off Remy’s plot arc, Remy and Juandissimo being a major focus throughout Arc 3). They aren’t complete yet, so "Trying Too Hard” might be finished by the time my hiatus ends, or there may just be a few weeks without updates. We’ll see.

Basically, we have a busy year ahead of us starting in fall, with Origin, Knots, Pink and Gray, and the 130 Prompts all taking their turns to update. Goodness of Misfit, No Anesthetic, Identity Theft, Snips and Snails, and Out of You are all cautiously on the backburner for now, with No Anesthetic first in line for an update. This next year, I would love to increase my buffer to handle two updates a week- Tuesday and Friday. We’ll see what I can balance with my school work.

That’s how it’s going! Thanks for your support, whether you make it known or just quietly cheer me on from a distance, and I hope you continue to enjoy my content! I have many more stories to share, both in ‘fics and in my personal works. I’m excited for the chance to lead you all on the journeys I get to tell.

#As excited as I am for Identity Theft it will probably wait until Pink and Gray is done #99% true as far as we remember #ridwriting #Goldfeather works #FAIRIES! #130 Prompts #Frayed Knots

[aion-rsa]

How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever

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What do space heists and archaeology have in common? The answer is one of the most important and bizarrely under-appreciated episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation: Season 6 banger, “The Chase.” Written by future Battlestar Galactica showrunner Ronald D. Moore and Joe Menosky, and directed by Jonathan Frakes, “The Chase” is a perfect example of a late-era TNG episode insofar as the characters all feel super-cozy, and the story has a subtle intensity without resorting to a ton of explosions or violence. At the same time, “The Chase” also offered a Watsonian answer to a question with a seemingly very obvious Doyle-ist answer: Why do Star Trek aliens look the way they do? In “The Chase,” we learn all about the rules of Trek aliens, and along the way, the TNG lore is expanded in other big ways, too.

“The Chase” aired on April 26, 1993, and as such, exists in the interesting time when TNG and DS9 were airing new episodes simultaneously. DS9 had already expanded the canon of Trek by permanently parking itself in the histories of both the Bajorians and the Cardassians, but in doing so, DS9 had also brought another Star Trek plot element back into vogue in a big way: The ancient space mystery! These kinds of stories usually focus on a long-dead alien species that had a profound impact on history and influenced everyone’s basic perception of why things are the way they are. In a sense, the entire first season of Star Trek: Picard falls into this story phylum. In the 1993 DS9 pilot, “The Emissary” — which aired just six months before “The Chase” —  we learn the ancient gods of Bajor, the Prophets, are really timeless aliens from another plane of existence. This kind of idea is nearly as old as science fiction itself, but prior to DS9, Star Trek did this all the time. The notion of ancient and influentially alien races pops up in TOS a lot, including references to “the Old Ones,” in “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” and “Catspaw.” There’s also Sargon’s race of energy beings from “Return to Tomorrow,” who low-key take credit for the existence of humanoids. This idea also pops up with “the Preservers” in the episode “The Paradise Syndrome.” Before “The Chase,” TNG had a few episodes like this, too, including “The Last Outpost,” and pivotally, the Season 2 episode “Contagion,” the first time we learn that Picard had previously considered a career in archeology before staying on the career path that led to starship captain.

The notion that Picard has an Indiana Jones-esque tendency embedded in his personality is one of the smarter layers in his character. I love Kirk, but, other than horseback riding and mountain climbing, his hobbies are comparatively kind of generic throughout TOS and the films. (Sulu has more unique hobbies!) One of the reasons the character of Picard is so easy for people to embrace is his multifaceted love of all sorts of stuff that doesn’t have much to do with exploring space. In “The Chase,” we get a character-development metaphor that illustrates this is the ancient artifact called the Kurlan naiskos, a statue with little statues inside of it, representing as Picard says, “the many voices inside the one.” The storytelling lesson? Cool characters work better when there’s contradictory stuff inside of them.

It’s also helpful when those “many voices” can create cool stories. In High Fidelity, John Cusak’s Rob Gordon explains character development like this: “What really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films – these things matter!” With Picard, the vastly different interests that feel divergent from his Starfleet persona — hard-boiled noir novels, archaeology — help round him out in a way that you can imagine him as a real person, existing beyond the confines of the TV show. But, prior to “The Chase,” the archaeology thing hadn’t really been explored in any real way. It’s almost like in the final two seasons of TNG, the writers remembered Picard has a cool intellectual superpower called “archaeology.”

After “The Chase,” we get a Season 7 two-parter called “Gambit,” in which Picard goes undercover using his former archeology professor’s name, Galen, to track down—you guessed it—ancient pieces of an alien artifact that could have untold power! The interstellar adventures of Galen Jones never really took off as a TNG spin-off, but again, if you squint, aspects of Star Trek: Picard don’t feel that far off from “The Chase” or “Gambit.” (As post-” Unification” stories, these episodes also double-down on the idea that Picard is personally invested in the history of Romulus and also making peace with the Romulans in general. Thanks, Spock!)

But. The reason why “The Chase” is so important to Star Trek canon isn’t just connected to the ongoing character development of Jean-Luc Picard. Picard’s personal stakes in unlocking an ancient archeology mystery help make the episode move, but the larger revelation of what is going on is slightly cooler. There’s a scene where Picard is describing the four billion-year-old genetic mystery and the camera slowly zooms in on him, really letting you know that this shit is about to get real. It goes like this:

“It’s four billion years old. A computer program from a highly advanced civilization, and it’s hidden in the very fabric of life itself. [SLOW JONATHAN FRAKES ZOOM LENS BEGINS, OMINIOUSLY.] Whatever information this program contains could be the most profound discovery of our time. Or the most dangerous.”

The culmination of “The Chase” is all about various governments trying to unlock the secrets of the genetic computer program to figure out its secrets. This is the Raiders of the Lost Ark stuff. The Klingons think it’s a giant weapon. The Cardassians think it’s an unlimited power supply. Belloq thinks it’s a radio for talking to God, even though nobody invited him. Even the Romulans are in on it, wanting to obtain this four billion-year-old puzzle for themselves. In the end, the big revelation is that all the “humanoid” bipedal species we’ve seen throughout Star Trek were created intentionally by an even more ancient set of humanoids. This tap-dance with real science doesn’t contradict evolution per se, but in the ancient message the ancient humanoid woman says: “Our scientists seeded the primordial oceans of many worlds, where life was in its infancy. The seed codes directed your evolution toward a physical form resembling ours.”

Read more

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By Ryan Britt

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Why Star Trek Needs More Characters Like Captain Lorca

By Lacy Baugher

So, the TLDR is that in the Trek universe, we evolved naturally, but only because we were given a push. This is as close the Trek canon will come to the notion of panspermia, the real-life theory that organic life could have been intentionally seeded on Earth. But, Trek alum Ronald D. Moore would revisit this idea in a big way in his famous reboot of Battlestar Galactica. This has all happened before and it will all happen again… sometimes, in a different franchise.

So what’s the big deal with the revelation that all the humanoid alien species share a common ancestor? Well, the knee-jerk answer is that this episode provided bandaid on the slightly unrealistic notion that most aliens in Star Trek just like humans with different foreheads or wrinkled noses or funny ears. And that’s true, “The Chase” does provide a Watsonian answer for why the Star Trek universe looks the way it does, at least when it comes to extraterrestrials. Haters might say this was a bad idea because it called attention to something that doesn’t need explaining, sort of like the Trek version of the midichlorians. But, that negative take misses a slightly larger truth, which debunks an important myth about the foundation of Trek.

The reason why The Original Series mostly tackled aliens who looked like humans in bad make-up is only partially an economic one. Yes, it’s widely impractical to do Hortas and Gorns every week, but in creating the writers’ bible for TOS, Roddenberry also made it clear that humanoid aliens were part of a dramatic choice, not just an economic one. In early pitch documents, Roddenberry describes “the parallel worlds” concept like this: “It means simply that our stories will plant and animals life, plus people, quite similar to that on Earth.”

Roddenberry wasn’t just doing this to save money. The “parallel worlds” concept was clearly something he wanted so the stories would connect with a casual viewer and not just hardcore science fiction fans. Prior to Star Trek, the general perception of filmed science fiction was that it was genre dominated by “Bug-Eyed Monsters.” By introducing the “Parallel worlds” concept, Roddenberry was creating a buffer against the series becoming too much like monster-of-the-week science fiction. Yes, this decision conveniently saved a little bit of money, but it’s very clear that wasn’t the only factor. Even at the beginning, Star Trek wanted to do humanoid aliens not because it was easy, but because telling those stories would be more interesting. 

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What Moore and Menosky did with “The Chase,” was to come right out and make that dramatic choice into a thoughtful and exciting episode. The physics and biological science of the Star Trek universe might not exactly line up with our own, but the way in which the various shows prioritize people over technology is a relative constant. In “The Chase,” TNG reminded everyone that Star Trek was always about telling stories about people, even if those people were literally aliens. In this way, “The Chase” didn’t so much as change canon, but rather, clarified it. The reason why the Romulans, Humans, Cardassians look the way they do has an answer. But the real answer to that question requires even more introspection than the episode has time for. Which, in a nutshell, is what a lot of good Trek is supposed to do. “The Chase” is both an overt metaphor and a hardcore in-universe story at the same time. Many voices, inside the one.

Editor’s note: Norman Lloyd, the actor who played Professor Galen in “The Chase” (and inhabited many, many other roles in his long career) passed away earlier this week. You can learn more about his life and career here.

The post How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[antagonist-chan]

My plans for the rest of the weekend (which, for me atm, is Wednesday night through Sunday):

Tomorrow, I’ll do a shit ton of work on my room and also take one of my Big Showers (for those of you who don’t know- I try to shower roughly every other day (with the occasional two-day break instead of one-day since there aren’t an even number of days in the week), but once a week I try to take a more in-depth shower where I do a lot more to clean myself). The shower will preferably be after working on the room, since that won’t exactly be the most hygienic thing in the world to do.

On Friday, I’ll work on finally getting my queue up and also going through a lot of my online backlog.

On Saturday, I’ll work more on my homework, my online backlog, and on various art things (primarily, SCP stuff and Byzantium Love and War).

On Sunday, I’ll do yet more intense work on my room and take a Normal Shower.

Every day, I’ll try to get some work done on homework, backlog, and my room (and also on eating right), but the days where I’ve actually specified working on it will involve more intense stuff. Like, for room cleaning, instead of just “go through a handful of DVDs and put away your clean laundry and go through your books to see which ones to keep and which to donate”, I mean like “completely clear out multiple boxes worth of stuff and also finally clear away this particular pile of stuff so you can actually see the floor there again”.

Like, seriously, my room is a disaster area, and I’m slowly working through making it livable again so that I can actually get a decent night’s fucking sleep again.

I’ll also try to make room for the Sims, but I’m not gonna sacrifice work just because I’m worried it’ll cut into my Sims time like I have been for the past few weeks. I know that continuing to play the Sims even when I’m behind on stuff is kinda essential to maintaining my sanity right now, but I can take a short break without falling off the Sims wagon. I still have plenty of things that I haven’t properly explored in that game yet, so I still have incentive to go back once things are a little calmer. Just... I’ve actually fallen a little behind on school (something I promised myself I wouldn’t do this semester, though granted I haven’t fallen that far behind, just a day), my life will become significantly easier once my room is clean, I’m not doing as good a job of keeping up with my hygiene as I want to be, I really want to get something published on the SCP site, and Byzantium Love and War chapter 2 was scheduled to come out at the beginning of March, and it’s mid June and it’s still not here (and keep in mind that chapter 1 was posted at the beginning of February). At least one reader is outright angry that I’m so behind, and at least three more have offered sympathy. The reason the backlog is important is because some of the backlog is Neptunia-related, and going through that backlog will almost certainly give me more motivation to work on BLaW (and part of why I’ve barely worked on it is because I really want to be in the mood when I do it, because it’s a shipping fic and I want to do my OTP right, dammit). Something similar with the queue.

Hopefully, I can have my room cleaned by the end of the weekend and my family can immediately start looking into getting me a new bed. And I want to do this new bed right- my old bed was a piece of shit that annoyed me for just over a decade (since I was seven or eight when I got it, and nineteen when I finally got rid of it) and caused my “dirty room” problem to be even god damn worse because it was so horribly designed AND horribly positioned within my room. And not only that, but also just the sleep quality. I’m pushing so hard for this because I want to get a good night’s sleep, so that I can have the energy that I had when I was thirteen. Did you know that, when I was thirteen, back in 2011, and I had just joined Tumblr, I once woke up at 6:00 AM because I was so excited to start the day, and when my grandfather woke up (I was up at my grandparents’ house) he actually got concerned that I was up so early and made me go to bed early that night? God, I miss those days. And I know that it’s partially because teenagers are just wired to be night owls that that doesn’t happen anymore, but I’m 20, I’m supposed to be growing out of that wiring. And I know that another part of it is just that younger people have more energy and excitement in life. But part of it is definitely that I can’t get a good night’s sleep on my couch, at least not when I do it every single night.

ALSO hopefully, I can get BLaW chapter 2 posted by the end of the month, and get my buffer properly set up so I don’t have to worry so much about getting chapters written on time. And then I can work on the rest of my art again, like my sex game, my original MMD model bases (which will themselves open up a lot of doors for other art!), the Gensokyo’s Heart reboot, and maybe even a Jikankyo revival like I talked about last night!

And once I’m not behind on absolutely fucking everything, I can actually go back to living a somewhat leisurely life, where I can do things like spontaneously decide to play a video game without it being a huge commitment (because right now, deciding to play a video game is a huge commitment), or watch Brooklyn 99 while I’m getting ready in the morning, or read a fucking book because holy shit I haven’t done that in forever, or work on finishing my transition because I am sick of most people thinking I’m a man, or get an actual fucking job so I can get real income with which to actually keep up with video games again. Hey, I might even do jobs that I’ve been considering doing for longer than I’ve even been behind like this- did you know that, basically the entire time I’ve been on Tumblr, I’ve been somewhat considering clearing out the shelves in my room? I never touch those shelves anymore because they’re covered in rotten trash, boxes of shit my parents put there before it was my room and they never took out, stuff I haven’t touched since I was a toddler (or potentially stuff that has never been touched because toddler me never got around to trying them), broken technology, and finally, stuff I actually care about that’s gone neglected because of everything else up there. Those aren’t super urgent or anything, since they aren’t in the way of getting a bed like the stuff on the floor is, but I do want to eventually deal with all that shit (especially since it would probably only take a day or so of work).

And best of all, I might actually get to start experiencing the flow of time again because the days won’t blend into each other so god damn much.

#antagonist gets her shit together: the movie #i am just so fucking tired of NOT having my shit together #i have basically not had my shit together since EARLY EARLY 2015 #and i also didn't have my shit together for a ton of 2012-2014 #so i've spent most of the 2010s without my shit together and it fucking sucks #long post #i did not intend for this post to be so god damn long

[allskynostars]

Strong, Chapter 1: First Impressions

Welcome! :) I'm so happy to be here, writing another multi chapter fic for you lovely people. So, without further ado: This is completely AU. No Jason murder, no events of S1. Jughead is a born and raised South-Sider, he knows no such thing as an Archie, Veronica or Betty. (Not for long!) He does know fellow South-Sider, Cheryl though ;) God, I'm so excited to write these characters. I really wanted to write JB, and Gladys also. You may have some questions after the first chapter, but hold on, they shall be answered. *DISCLAIMER* I know absolutely nothing of the American school system, so please just take it with a grain of salt as it is more than likely not accurate. I'm not American, hence 'Mum'. Although I've read so many fics with 'Mom' I almost slipped up a couple times! Ha. Also edited myself so sorry for any mistakes!! Also posting this from mobile so sorry for the no read more break, and anything else that could potentially go wrong with this shitty app. Aaaaand I think that's all! Enjoy, buggies. ❤️ Read on AO3!; http://archiveofourown.org/works/11748321/chapters/26476650 <b>Summary:<\b><i>Betty Cooper swore she only signed up to tutor a young girl from South Side High, and definitely not for what followed. And Jughead Jones didn't sign up for anything. ** It was sunny out. And Betty thought the temperature was high enough to warrant the black denim high waisted shorts she had changed into, paired with a simple white tank top she tucked in. As she turned herself in front of her bedroom mirror, she spared a thought to how her Mother would disapprove. <i>'Far too much skin, Elizabeth.' </i>A smirk grew on her face. Well, she wasn't home from work in time to scorn her choice of clothing today. And in a last minute act of rebellion Betty didn't even grab a cardigan as she popped her feet into a pair of converse, tightened her ponytail, and left the house.  Her phone started to buzz in her back pocket. She reached for it as she continued her journey to Pops. It was nearly August and the warmer weather was coming to an end. Which meant that Summer Break was also, and Betty had put her name forward for a "Big Sister" volunteer programme at a school on the other side of town, Southside High. She was hoping this is what the phone call was about. It was basically after school tutoring for any student who was put forward, Betty had done it last year with a different young girl and she was looking really looking forward to it again. Regardless of <i>'how good it looks on a college application' </i>, in her Mothers words.  Not that it mattered. Betty already had early acceptance to the Medill school of Journalism at Northwestern, starting in the Spring Semester. Chicago was far enough for Betty to gain some independence, but not far enough that she couldn't visit often.  "Hello, Elizabeth Cooper speaking." She answered, always polite, always the full name if the number was unknown. "Hi, Elizabeth? This is Gladys Jones. I'm ringing in regards to the Big Sister programme at South Side High. How are you?" The voice through the phone sounded maternal, and younger than Betty had expected.  "This is she, but Betty is fine. I'm well, thank you Mrs Jones. I'm glad to be hearing from you." And she was, it was genuine. Betty loved to offer a hand to any student who wanted to better themselves.  "Well, Betty, I'm glad to be calling. I was shown a few profiles from some of the volunteers, and yours stood out to me the most. You seem to have a wide range of curricular, extra and otherwise." Betty smiled on the other end of the phone, she did look awfully good on paper. "And I was hoping, if you haven't already been snatched up of course, that you would buddy up with my daughter."  "I would love too, Mrs Jones, thank you for considering me." She smiled while checking the road to cross.  "Of course.  Would you like to come over tomorrow and meet myself and JB? Say around 4pm? I will be home from work then"  "Yes, definitely, I'll see you both then. I look forward too it." Betty replied.  "As do I, Betty. I'll send you through our address, and I'll see you then. Thanks again."  She couldn't wipe the smile from her face after the phone call had ended, and it still resided there as she walked through the front door at Pops, the ding of the bell alerting her arrival to her best friends.  "There she is, my own personal ray of sunshine. I took the liberty of ordering your usual for you." Veronica nodded at the vanilla milkshake that was waiting for Betty as she slide into their usual booth opposite her and Archie. She smiled at Veronica in thanks. "And what, or who, has gotten into you to make you look so happy, huh?"  "V, honestly." She joked, rolling her eyes. "I actually just got off the phone with the Mother of a Southside High student about the Big Sister programme. She wants to meet me tomorrow." She explained, taking a sip of her shake.  "Oh that's cool, Betty." Archie chimed in, smiling across the booth at Betty. "I remember how much you enjoyed that last year."  "Thanks, Arch." She returned his smile and gave a thought back to other things he probably didn't remember from last year. Or chose not too. Like her unrequited feelings of what she thought was love towards him, but turned out to just be a silly childish obsession gone on too long. As soon as she had seen Archie with Veronica, she was simply happy for the both of them. There was no jealousy, and Betty found relief in finally letting go of that Andrews fantasy. Besides, Veronica was such a permanent fixture in Bettys own day to day life now that she would not have it any other way.  Even if that meant being the third wheel more often than not when there was no one else to act as a buffer.  "Well, that's less risque than I was hoping. But, you are the true star of Riverdale after all, Betty Cooper. What will this town do without you?" Veronica was only half joking. "What will I do without you!" She reached across the table to take Betty's hand in her own and gave it a squeeze.  "Chicago really isn't that far from NY, V. We will see each other all the time, I promise." Betty squeezed back in return.  "Oh, I will make sure of it. Daddy's jet will be getting so much use it won't know what hit it." Archie sniggered at how pretentious she had sounded, and Betty couldn't help but join in. Veronica waved her hand in dismissal and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. "Oh Archie, please, don't act as though you haven't been begging me to take you on your first flight."  Now Betty was laughing in Archie's direction, the look on his face one of a boyfriend who just got shut down by his own, entitled girlfriend. The sound of their laughing was cut off by the ding of the bell above the door again, Archie watching the group who just walked in over Betty's shoulder.  "Those Serpent wannabe kids do hang out here a lot lately." His eyes were trained on the leather jackets of the group as they made their way to the back corner booth. "I wish they would fuck off, they give me the creeps." Betty shot him a dirty look.  "Jeez, Arch, louder for those in the back please." But the curiously had gotten the better of Betty as she glanced quickly over her shoulder into the back corner of the diner. It was the same group as always, 3 boys and the red headed girl. One of the boys, Betty had noticed, never seemed to be without his grey beanie, detailed to look like a crown. It stood out against the harsh of his leather jacket, and she wondered how the two fit together.  "They might be scum but those jackets make them super hot, right Betty?" Veronica asked, watching the group with hungry eyes.  "They aren't scum, V." Was all Betty would reply, she refused to admit that there was something about the leather that did make them seem more attractive. Unattainably  so. The attitude that seemed to come with the jacket probably helped the cause. They looked miserable, all the time, Betty thought as she looked back toward her friends. Especially the one with the beanie. She wondered if it was part of the act.  "Say, Archiekins, do you think if I got you a leather jacket like that, you would swap it out for you letterman? Just for a night or two, just for me?" Veronica made eyes at her boyfriend, the way she held the straw in her mouth more than enough to imply exactly what she meant.  "Only if you wear one to match, and nothing else." He winked. "Okay, guys, ew!" Betty pulled a face, covering her ears with her hands. This was the kind of thing that made her resent being a third wheel. She could handle watching them try and eat each other's faces off, but sex talk? No thanks. She didn't get paid enough for that. "There's a minor present."  Archie threw his arm around Veronica's shoulder as they laughed, pulling her closer to him. "You'll get there, Betty." Archie joked. Betty just rolled her eyes at the both of them and quickly finished her milkshake.  "Well, there won't be any leather jackets, that's for sure." She shimmied her way down the bench to exit the booth. "And on that note, I'm going home. I need to get some more reading done in advance for school, seeing as I'll have just less time when the new term starts up with this tutoring."  "B, you just got here! You bore." Veronica sighed, her mouth shaped in an exaggerated pout. To anyone else it would seem condescending, but not to Betty. She knew Veronica well enough to know she always meant well. "Bye guys, I'll text you later, V." She climbed from the booth and walked backward toward the door, waving at her friends. Just as she turned back she walked into something hard. And leather. It was the chest of one of the serpent group, one of the beanie less boys. "Shit, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." She offered the boy a forgiving smile. He wasn't much taller than Betty, his jet black hair quiffed back from his face.  "That's okay, darlin'." He looked her up and down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I'll watch for you instead."  "Oh Joaquin, please." The red head rolled her eyes, but was watching Betty with a look she couldn't quite grasp. Her lips were blood red, matching her hair, and her arms were crossed right across her chest. And even though she was shorter than Betty, the look she was giving made her feel small. "We all know she's not your type."  Betty faked a laugh, but she could feel the colour creeping into her cheeks. And she figured you could see it, at least the rest of the group who were stood behind this guy definitely could. She gave him another smile before getting out of there as fast as she could without running. She could feel all their eyes burning into the back of her head.  ** It was 3.30 the next afternoon, and Betty was yet again stood in front of her bedroom mirror. But this time she was dressed just how her mother approves. Dark blue jeans, and a pastel pink sweater with a white collar.  "Elizabeth, downstairs quickly! You don't want to be late. Punctuation is key!" Betty rolled her eyes at her Mother, but did as she was told. With one more tight tug of her pony, she slipped her feet into a pair of black ballet flats and hurried down the stairs. Alice Cooper, her overbearing, ever concerned, painfully punctual Mother was already waiting for her at the front door. She was tapping her foot, and giving Betty a look that she was all too familiar with.  "Sorry, Mum." she murmured as she slipped past her out the front door, avoiding her gaze. As she walked to the car, she could hear her Mother muttering as she followed.  "It's not just you that would look bad, Elizabeth. It would also fall back on us, your parents." Her tone was condescending, and Betty was all too familiar with the words that fell from her Mothers tongue. "Would you want to disappoint us like that? Like your sister?" Betty could feel her fingers curling into her palm, her nails itching to break skin. She shook it off, stretching her fingers before opening the door and climbing into the car.  "Mum, it only takes 15 minutes to drive to South Side. We have plenty of time." Betty crossed her arms over her chest, purposely looking straight ahead to stare at the garage door. Alice sighed as she sat in the drivers seat, angling her body to face Betty and tilting her head in concern.  "Are you taking your medication, Elizabeth?" There was that tone again, always with that tone. If she actually paid any attention at all to her daughter, she may have noticed that Betty hadn't been taking any of her medication in weeks. Months, for that matter. Betty would hold the pills under her tongue until she had opportune moment to spit them out again.  With everything that had happened with Polly, both of her parents had been rather distant lately. But that didn't mean Betty wasn't still nagged at every minute they were around. She continued to ignore  Alice, averting her eyes to stare out at the front garden through the car window. "Answer me, Elizabeth."   "Yes, Mother." Betty finally answered through gritted teeth. "Twice a day every day." She heard her Mum sigh beside her.  "We just want the best for you, sweetie. We want you to be your best." She was being genuine, but that didn't make it any easier for Betty to swallow. It was never about what she wanted. It was just about how good she could make her parents look. Alice reached out her hand to rest on the side of Betty's arm, an attempt at being sincere. Betty turned to her Mother, a fake smile plastered on her mouth.  "Thanks, Mum. But we need to leave." She nodded to the clock on the dashboard that now showed the time as 3.35pm. "Punctuation is key!" She mocked. Now it was Alice's turn to roll her eyes as she turned in her seat and started the engine. They were backed out of the drive and on their way before Alice spoke again.  "Look, Betty. I know sometimes we are hard on you. But, but after Polly, can you blame us?" <i>Can you blame her?</i> Betty thought. No wonder she threw it all in and ran half way across the world. Polly had needed her freedom, she wanted to make her own life decisions, and Betty was starting to understand that more every day. "We gave your sister everything. She had every option she could have wanted, and yet she threw it all back on our faces." Alice's voice had started to falter, and Betty knew talking about Polly made her upset.  "Mum, I'm not Polly.  Please don't get upset." She glanced in her Mothers direction. "I'm just nervous, okay?" Which wasn't a complete lie. She needed to make a good impression today, although that wasn't an entirely new concept. She had been taught that first impressions were everything. Alice looked at Betty in her peripheral and offered a light smile that didn't touch her eyes.  "You'll do great, Betty. You always do. Just remember, chin up. Don't slack." Betty unfolded her arms in favour of wringing her hands together. They had driven over the rail bridge that separated the North and South sides of Riverdale, which meant they would be arriving to the Jones' shortly. Betty could feel her hands slick with sweat, but she tried to push away her anxious thoughts. She had done this before, and as long as the girl wasn't a complete nightmare she knew she could handle it. Betty thrived off of helping others.  "It's this next left, Mum." Betty directed Alice down the right street, eyes squinting to read the numbers on the letterboxes. "It's number 44 so it's on my side."  The neighbourhood was nice, it looked as though the street could blend in just fine on the other side of the tracks.  "These houses are much tidier than where I dropped you last year. Thank god." Alice Cooper, the queen of laying judgment. She pulled into the driveway once they had reached the right house. Alice turned to Betty in her seat once again, reaching out her hand to dust off Betty's shoulder. "Now, do well. And call me when you need me or your Father to pick you up." "I could get the bus, Mum. It's just down the road an -" "God, no. I don't want you walking around here on your own. If anything comes up, I'll ask Archie to get you." Alice smiled a small smile at her daughter.  "Okay, thanks Mum. I'll call you later." Betty offered a smile in return , opened the car door and climbed out. She knew her Mother would wait until she was in the front door before she left, so Betty took in the house quickly as she walked to the door. It was lovely, and looked well kept. There was a red Mazda CX3 in the drive, which was a sight in itself. Obviously this family had money. Betty took a deep breath before raising her fist and knocking on the door.  The woman who answered the door was younger than Betty was expecting, yet again. Or maybe she just looked that way. Gladys Jones was of a similar height to Betty, her black hair fell just below her shoulders. Her blue eyes were striking.  "Betty? Hi, please, come in." Gladys pulled the door open wide, holding her arm out to welcome her in. Betty stepped foot through the front door into the kitchen, which was open plan with the living room. Everything was white and bright, and there was a young girl sat at the island in the kitchen. The girl, with hair longer than her Mothers but the same exact colour, smiled a dazzling smile at Betty.  "This is JB, and I'm Gladys." The older woman says, moving around to stand behind her daughter, her hands grasping thr girls shoulders. "Welcome. Can I get you a drink of something?"  "A water would be lovely, thanks." Betty moved around the island and perched on the stool next to JB. She smiled down at the young girl, and she noticed that her eyes were the same deep sea blue as her Mothers. She smiles a thanks at Gladys as she puts the glass in front of Betty. "Hi, JB. I'm Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Betty. Is JB a nickname?" The girl offered Betty a shy smile. She must be around 13, Betty thought.  "It stands for Jellybean." She answered, ducking her head a little. Betty looked up at Gladys, who just shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "Which is still a nickname, anyway." "Her Dad fought a hard case, and she won't tell you her real one unless she trusts you with her life." Gladys smiled, and Betty noticed the lines at the corner of her eyes. She was beautiful, but she looked tired. And not tired like she didn't have enough sleep the night before, but more like she had been exhausted for a long time. Betty commended herself on how she could read people. "Well, I'm going to go and sort out some washing, how about you two get to know each other some more." She ruffled JB's hair as she walked passed them, leaving the kitchen into the laundry attached.  "You know," Betty nudged JB's shoulder with her own, "I'm going to make it my goal to get your real name out of you. I'll prove you can trust me, JB." She offered the young girl a warm smile, that was returned ten fold. "So, tell me, whats your favourite subject in school?"  "Science." Jellybeans face lit up, and then it was hard for Betty to get a word in. Not that she minded. She told her all about her school, her friends, how her 14th birthday was coming up and she didn't know if she was allowed to invite boys to her house just yet but one of her best friends was a boy. She told her how her teachers always compared her to her brother and she hated it.  "Your brother?" Betty asked, her interest peaked. She had gotten the impression that it was just JB and Gladys, but then again, this house was awfully big for just the two of them. Betty was trying to pick up as much information she could without directly asking, rather waiting for JB to when she felt comfortable.  "Does he go to school with you?" "He's in senior year, same as you I think?" Betty nodded at JB. "He's a shit head in school, and all the teachers think I'll be a chip off the old block."  "Oh, well that's not fair." Betty was taken a back a little by how easy JB had sworn, but she had to remind herself that just because she still couldn't say the word crap in her parents house without some alarm going off didn't mean it was the same for everyone else. Jellybean just shrugged. "It's okay, he's not a shit head to me." She smiled, spinning herself side to side on her stool. "He's my big brother, he's the best." Betty felt warmth in her chest, the way that JB felt towards her brother was the same that she felt with Polly.  "That's nice, JB."   "Him and Mum don't get along that well, but.." Jellybean trailed off, catching herself before she spilled all their Jones family secrets to this girl she has just met. Sure, Betty was nice and seemed understanding, but JB liked her and didn't want to scare her away. This house was a good facade for how much they were a South Side family, through and through.  "I know what thats like." Betty nudged her shoulder, realising that JB didn't want to carry on with that sentance just yet. "My Sister and Parents definitely do not see eye to eye." Jellybean gave Betty a small smile in gratitude, and was about to ask about her sister when she heard the distinct rumbling of a motorbike coming into the street.  "Speak of the devil." Jellybean joked. Betty turned her head toward the window, watching a dark figure park up in the driveway on a motorbike. "What's your brothers name, dare I ask?" Was all Betty had time to ask before he made his way through the front door. "Jughead." Jellybean answered Betty, and announced his arrive at the same time. As the boy took off his helmet, Betty was shocked to realise it was the beanie wearing serpent from Pops. As if in time with her thoughts, Jughead reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled the hat onto his head. He walked around the behind Betty to Jellybean, ruffling her hair on his way to the fridge. "Hey, Kid. Where's Mum?" He asked, not really taking any notice of Betty. She couldn't help but feel slightly flustered, especially after how much she floundered after the interaction she had with him and the rest of his gang yesterday. "Doing laundry, you're safe." She joked, smiling at her brother. "Good." He opened the milk and drank straight from the carton, something Betty found kind of gross. He raised his eyes brows in her direction, a question to his sister. "Oh, this is Betty. She's my tutor for the new term, for after school." Jellybean turned to look at Betty sat beside her. "This is Jughead." Betty smiled at him. "Another nickname, I'm presuming?" God, why did she ask that. Like it was any of her business. She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks. Jughead just gave her a sly smile while he screwed the lid back on the milk. This was the most she had gotten to look at him properly, not just from the far corner of the diner. He was good looking, that she wouldn't deny. He had a sharp jaw, and those blue eyes that seemed to be a Jones trait. She also couldn't help but notice his hands, the way they grasped the bottle. "It's far better than the alternative, trust me." He shut the fridge door, making to pick up his helmet on his way to the hall that on the opposite side of the kitchen. "I've seen you around, at Pops." Betty was slightly shocked, she didn't really think she was someone Jughead would notice. His eyes were trained on her now, and she suddenly hated the fact that she blushes so easily. "Yeah, I'm there a lot with my friends." She smiled at him, hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt. "That's it, you're always third wheeling with that ginger kid and his rich girlfriend, right?" He snarked, a smirk on his face. Betty dropped her smile, his comment kind of pissed her off. She knew she was a third wheel, she didn't need others pointing it out for her. "Didn't realise I was that obvious." She shot back, a sharp tone to her voice. "Sometimes, to me." He still had a smirk on his face, and Betty couldn't help but find herself enjoying his face. Her heart was beating a little faster, had he really noticed her? He looked her up and down before he spoke again. "When you've got those legs out." He winked, before turning around and walking into the hall. "Jug! Can you not!" Jellybean called out to her brother, shaking her head in shame. She shot an apologetic look to Betty. "Sorry, told you he was a shit head." "It's okay." Betty laughed. And as much as she probably wouldn't admit it, she had kind of enjoyed those comments. It usually wasn't her who got hit on, that normally fell to Veronica. But she kind of liked it. Or maybe she just liked the way he looked at her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. Jughead was just a boy, this is just what they do. They liked to play games. Wasn't it similar to what happened at Pops yesterday? She reminded herself. "Where were we?" Betty had stayed for a little longer, Gladys came back and the three of them sat and talked. She turned down the invitation of dinner, claiming that her Mother would have already accounted for her, although in reality she wanted to avoid another run in with Jughead. Later that night while she was trying to sleep, she convinced herself that he was just trying to irk her. He was in a gang after all, it was probably a territorial thing. She wouldn't let some tiny little run in get to her, she was Betty Cooper after all. *

#strong #allskynostars fics #Bughead #Bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #Bughead au #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #betty x jughead

[ilovelocust]

Mirror Mirror V.2 (Part 13)

Note: Part 14 is already done and I’ll post it tomorrow before I drive up to Oklahoma to visit my father.. I’m working on Part 15 today and it should be ready for posting on Saturday. Part 15 is the last of the rewrite chapter, after that will be all new content. That means those chapters are going to have to be written from scratch and will take longer to complete. I’m visiting my father, but when I have spare time I’ll work on Part 16 and hopefully it will be going up sometime next week. If I remember my outline right this fic is either 17 or 18 parts long, so we are very close to the end.

<< First < Prev.

Some sense of normalcy has finally returned to Shiro’s life. He can’t yet welcome Keith back to his bed, but outside the security of his room, he lets his lover in piece by piece. If things were to stay as they are, someday he might be able to go all the way. Bury the memories of his time in the alternate dimension in the deepest darkest corners of his mind, reserved for all things so much better forgotten, and build something new to cover it. Not a fresh start, but close enough. Of course, the tentative peace cannot last.

Keith is sparring with him. Hell or high water every day they meet for at least one round. Routine is so hard to find in the chaos of the Castle, he going to hold onto this one with everything he has. Keith’s flat to the floor, arms twisted in a hold he won’t be able to break. Now it’s just a matter of waiting out his struggles and eventual concession. There is a tell tale crackle of the Castle’s ancient speaker systems coming to life, “Shiro, please come to Slav’s laboratory immediately. Time is of the essence,” Allura’s tinny voice rings out.

Shiro let’s Keith go. Grabs his vest on the way out the door. He doesn’t take off his shirt outside his room, even before, even in front of Keith who has seen it all. The vest is the only concession to the heat he is willing to make, and he’ll put that on while he walks.

Keith materializes by his side, “Moral support,” Keith says with a smile. He must have keyed into Shiro’s, not very well hidden to be honest, distaste for being stuck in a conversation with Slav. Well, not like he was going to turn away any offered buffer between the eccentric alien and himself. His stress levels are high enough as it is.

The lab is one of many that lays abandoned in the Castle, only differentiating itself through the lack of dust and actively humming equipment from recent activity. Allura and Slav are both waiting when they enter, as is an oddly quiet Lance. Today is the Blue Paladin’s turn on the lab assistant schedule, one Shiro has been wisely exempt from since returning.

“Ah good you are here!” Slav rears up in front of Shiro, sending his heart into his throat and nearly ending in Slav losing his head. Not that that slows him even for a second, “Good, good, we may begin.” He scurries away to climb on top of a chair with far too many wires attached. It looks like something Haggar would cook up to pick through someones brain, “Sit down, we must hurry. Every tick we delay reduces our chances of success by .003 percent.”

Shiro looks to Allura, surely she knows what’s going on. He’d like some idea before sitting down in something that looks two seconds away from electrocuting someone, “Earlier Slav detected signals from what seemed to be another dimension,” Allura explains, gesturing towards a screen full of pictures and Altean symbols that clarifies absolutely nothing, “Upon further investigation he found that they originated from the dimension we rescued you from.” Ice trickles down his spine, “We think they might be searching for you,” Allura’s next words echo in his skull, “They may be trying to get you back.”

Get you back. There’s more, but he can’t hear it. His captor is searching for him. Reaching across the barrier between dimensions, to take him back. To lock him in his ice cold cell, run his fingers across his skin. He can’t, he can’t live through that again.

“Shiro!” Shiro opens his eyes. When did he close them? Keith is standing in front of him. Red jacket, not his captor. Pull it together, he can’t let the others see him like this, “Shiro you need to sit in the chair. You aren’t going back.” Keith says achingly soft, like Shiro might shatter with the wrong tone. Keith herds him, without touching, to the device Slav has rigged up. No restraints are activated, nothing is even attached to him, but his gut still churns. Machines, surrounding him, attached to his skin, there are always machines. Keith takes a step back.

“What does this do?” He asks, voice hoarse, trying to re-engage himself with the moment he’s in.

“It’s going to lock you into our dimension.” Keith says. His relief is hidden poorly. Shiro’s panic must make him feel helpless, Keith never did like feeling helpless, “Slav explained how it works, but it went over my head. All you need to know, is no one will be able to take you again after this is through.” The words aren’t just for him. Keith is reassuring himself as well.

Shiro nods his understanding. The machines hum, powering up, building energy. Keith is the only one with him. Everyone else has gathered around the controls, reading over Slav’s shoulder while he works. None of them can do anything but trust in the scientist’s many hands. They are all out of their depths.

Slav throws a lever and a low level buzzing emanates from the chair. There is a tingling in his toes and fingers. The machine must be doing something to him, “Hey guys,” Lance sounds worried, “Can we hurry this up. That signal from the other guys is getting really strong all of the sudden.” What does that mean?

The tingling starts to crawl up his arms and legs. Shiro chokes, breath stuck in his throat. The feeling. It’s not the machine. It’s the same as before, when he was rescued, when he was kidnapped. He’s going back. His captor is pulling him away again. He digs his fingers into the chair, metal bending under his right. Like he could somehow physically hold onto this dimension, force his rapidly disappearing sense of touch to stay. Keith will be so angry. He promised not to leave. He’s going to die in that cell.

Incoherent voices are shouting, his vision slowly whites out. Like someone is turning up the bloom on the world until he can’t make out what’s around him. His skin prickling like its covered in ants. Then…

Arms around him. Red jacket. Keith is hugging him. “You’re safe. We stopped them,” Keith words are muffled against his neck. Holding on for all he’s worth. No guards, no shock batons, the only purple in the room is Allura’s earrings. He’s, he’s still on the Castle of the Lions. His captor didn’t take him.

Keith lets him go, walks away. The set of his shoulders betraying his attempts to regain his composure.

“Dude, what was that about?” Every head swivels to look at Lance, “You’re awesome and all, but not that awesome. Why do these guys want you so bad?”

“It does seem exceedingly odd. In 97 percent of known universes kidnapping the Black Paladin from another universe is not worth the effort,” Slav adds. All eyes turn to Shiro, waiting. Things don’t add up, not from what he’s told them, they want an explanation.

“I-I don’t know why,” Shiro lies. He can’t tell them. They’d never look at him the same way again.

“Shiro,” Allura too, everyone pressing in demanding to know more, “I understand if you don’t wish to discuss all the grisly details, but trying to take you not once but twice, makes the interests of this other dimension important information. Slav and I, need to know at least.” They won’t stop, not until they have an explanation they believe.

“It was the Galra.” Truth “I was a gladiator, just like before.” Partial truth, “I don’t know why they want me back so badly,” Lie. He should be ashamed of how easily he looks the Princess in the eye and lies to her face, but knowing what his captor wants wouldn’t help her. Wouldn’t change the measures to prevent him from being taken again. Knowing what he had to do, would just make things worse for them all. Maybe she’ll accept this much. His memory problems are infamous. They could believe the arena took this time too.

Allura sighs, “Okay, I believe you.” She says, and the eyes finally stop looking. Turning back to their screens and data.

Shiro nods. Wobbles to his feet and leaves the room. Keith follows him out, but no one tries to stop him.

.

He wanders aimlessly through the Castle with Keith by his side. They don’t speak. He doesn’t have the words, but the tension is there every time Keith looks at him. Questions, emotions, building behind his eyes. A small storm brewing, “Why are you lying?” Keith asks, quieter than expected.

“I’m not,” Denial is automatic, thoughtless self-protection.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Keith says, and there is the expected frustration. Keith move in front of him. Physically bars Shiro from walking further, leaving this conversation behind. Forcing him to look into Keith’s upset eyes.

“You can lie to Allura and Lance and all the others, but don’t lie to me.” Hurt, Keith’s hurt. His eyes have the same almost wet look to them as when he confessed his nightmares.

“Why are you cutting me out? You used to be able to talk to me, or at least tell me when you couldn’t.” Because the truth would break him. Keith wasn’t like Shiro or his captor, he hadn’t committed any great sins worthy of punishment. He didn’t deserve to carry the guilt for things he never did, but he didn’t believe Shiro’s story. He wouldn’t accept the same line he’d given the others.

Half-truths, for Keith, he had to give more half-truths, “I was captured by the Galra, and they did make me fight. Not in the arena, but for their entertainment.” Keith’s eyes are still searching his face, watching him for more falsehoods.

“But that’s not why they want you back,” Keith prods.

Even a half truth is enough truth for Shiro to cut himself on, “No, that’s not why,” Shiro admits. He doesn’t want to say more, but he needs to.

“Takashi-” Shiro flinches, and Keith cuts off mid-sentence.

“Don’t call me that,” Shiro whispers, avoiding the concern in Keith eyes. Keith doesn’t try to touch him. He’d told him he didn’t like to be touched and he’d listened, because that’s what Keith does, he listens to Shiro. Doesn’t hurt him willingly, always tries to make sure he’s okay.

“My captor always called me that,” Shiro continues. No names, but he can share some. Just enough for Keith to understand, “I think that was the only name he knew,” Or maybe he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about anything else to do with who Shiro was.

“He…I think-I think there used to be another me in the other dimension, and he died.” Keith is quiet, listening to him speak at his own stumbling pace. The words come easier, “My captor, I think, he wanted me to replace him. To be his Shiro.” The remaking scars, the talk of old times that never happened, very little else make sense.

How can he say the next part. He barely wants to remember what happened, “I don’t know if his Shiro was his…” He can’t say the word, “But I wasn’t willing. To his-to the things he did…I didn’t want it.” Shiro squeezes his eyes shut. He needs Keith to understand without him having to say it.

“Who was it?” Shiro opens his eyes. Keith’s clenched fist are trembling, teeth gritted. Rage in the lines of his face, “I’ll kill him.” Keith promises in a harsh whisper. He would, if given half a chance. Keith would kill his captor for him, for everything he did.

He’s not you, “You’ll never meet him.” Shiro says instead.

Next >

#sheith #shiro #keith #voltron #Mirror Mirror #my fic

[victorianoir]

The Detective Versus the Needle

The Detective and the Tech Guy returns for another installment. :)

If you have never heard of this stories, you can head to my Master Post that I’ve created HERE. If you’d prefer to read the story on fanfiction . net, you can do so here: DATG.

Hope you enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The drawer slid out of the cabinet with a satisfying rumble, and Sarah looked down into it with an equal amount of satisfaction. First case solved. Sure, the drawer was empty now, save for the dividers she’d labeled alphabetically.

But as she slid the thick case file in front of the divider, the paperwork, the clues in case she needed to revisit or if she was called to testify in the court case that was sure to follow her investigation and the eventual arrest of the mole in Mr. Sanderson’s law firm, she smiled to herself. “Not empty anymore,” she murmured, and then the smile died.

Because she solved the case two weeks ago, and she had yet to receive any phone calls or emails from anyone else. And that was in spite of Sanderson’s insistence that she allow him to pass her name around to his colleagues and peers. Because “Good work is best when nobody’s aware it’s even happening” he had told her before he left her office, placing a large check in her hand.

She was hoping others felt that way, but so far, her phone hadn’t exactly been ringing off the hook.

Sarah glanced at it, sitting there on her desk next to her laptop and wireless mouse. She resisted the urge to knock it onto the ground, and instead huffed and slammed the drawer shut with a resounding finality.

She wondered when she’d open it again. If she’d open it again.

Chuck’s voice swept into her mind as she walked to her office window and peered outside. As always, it was the good voice, the voice that drowned out the bad voices. A balm on the discouraging lack of success, telling her she’d get a client soon. She just had to be a little patient.

She turned to glance out of the door into the lobby where an assistant might sit if she had one. Always a pragmatist, she’d butted against Chuck’s idealistic nature when they first stood in this office space after she decided to start renting it. She knew it would take a few years before she could afford an assistant, and he was sure she’d have one in no time. He was sweet, but not very realistic. Then again, who knew if he really believed all of the optimistic things he tossed at her when she voiced her discouragement, or if he was just trying to bolster her confidence.

Either way, it helped. It truly did.

But he wasn’t here. He was probably in his own office, coding or catching up on emails, plotting and planning his next project for his dad. Whatever he did that kept him at Bartowski Electronics Corporation’s headquarters until late in the evening.

Sarah grumbled to herself softly and slid her blinds shut, turning away from the window and pushing her hands through her hair. It was an exercise now, Monday through Friday, she would wake up, put on her professional clothes, go to the office, check her email, check her phone, stand around, or sit around if she felt like it, spend a few hours researching and planning things she couldn’t afford just yet at this stage in her private investigative agency, and then she’d go home.

No cases.

No calls.

No emails.

For two weeks now.

What exactly did she think she’d be accomplishing at nine o’clock at night on a Thursday when she had no client to work for? Maybe it was just denial. If she was at home, it would just emphasize that she wasn’t working because she literally had nothing to work on.

As she sat at the edge of her desk, she looked into her office’s lobby again and caught sight of the door. Chuck had a blast helping her find the right space for her investigative enterprise, and in fact, the reason why he liked this place so much was how hardboiled the place looked. That was his word he’d used. “Hardboiled”. Like Philip Marlowe, who she honestly only knew about because of Chuck in the first place. He’d referenced that enough when she was working on his case two years ago that she’d looked him up, even watched a Humphrey Bogart movie in her scant free time. That was something she’d never told him before. Because she’d been embarrassed then.

Per Chuck’s request, they’d had a guy come in and put “Walker Investigative Enterprises” on the foggy glass window in block letters. It pissed her off to do it, but she’d decided on just Walker, without her first name. Sexism was still deeply ingrained into the mindset of male professionals…and even some female professionals. Seeing she was a woman might disqualify her right off the bat without further research into her history.

When she looked at it now, she didn’t feel the pride she wanted to feel. Yes, she had her own P.I. agency. But did it really even count without clients?

Her cell buzzed in her purse that sat on the desk behind her. She rummaged through her bag and picked it up. Two missed calls from Ellie, and three texts. “Shit,” she breathed, quickly swiping to answer and holding it to her ear. “Ellie? Ellie, are you okay? What’s going on? Is it time?”

She was met with a bubbly laugh. “Jesus, Sarah, you’re worse than Devon. Although…Yeah, on second thought, I don’t blame you. I did call a bunch and leave a lot of texts. At nine at night. Sorry.”

Sarah heard the wince in her voice. “Uh, no. No, it’s okay. I just….you know, I was worried. Sorry I missed your messages.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure you’re busy! It’s not that important…Well, I mean, it is…kind of. But not as important as me potentially going into labor three weeks before my due date.”

“Right.” Sarah climbed to her feet and straightened her skirt. “So what’s up?”

“Well…”

Sarah narrowed her eyes when Ellie took awhile to continue. “Ellie? What’s going on?”

Ellie huffed. “Nothing’s going on. I’m about to ask you to do something you definitely won’t want to do.” She paused long enough for Sarah to frown. “I need you to go shopping with me tomorrow. For new baby things.”

Sarah’s eyebrows popped. And then she felt a warmth go through her as she brought her free arm up to hug herself. She was beaming by the time she spoke. “You want me to go with you to buy things for Clara? Why wouldn’t I want to do that, Ellie? Of course I’ll—”

“Wait, wait…Before you get all cute and gushy, my mom is joining us.”

The warm feeling left and was replaced by a frigid, icy feeling. A chill went down her spine. “What?”

“Exactly.”

“Well—Oh. I mean…”

“Change your mind? I wouldn’t blame you. It was going to just be us. I was going to call you tonight to ask you to help me. And then mom came by this afternoon and was hinting so hard I almost felt bad for her, so I…asked her. Devon didn’t help,” she said, through her teeth Sarah could tell. “He kept prompting me with that look he does.” She growled in frustration.

Sarah didn’t know Devon as well as she did Chuck’s sister, but she thought she might know the look Ellie was referring to. It was the “try harder to get along with your mom” look. She’d seen him use it on his neurosurgeon wife before.

She bit her lip, not saying anything in response.

“I’m sorry. I totally get it if you don’t want to come. I was even considering just not inviting you at all, knowing it would suck for you. I mean, she is such a horrible person around you. I just…I need you there to stop me from snapping my mom’s neck, that’s all.”

Sarah couldn’t stop the laugh from coming out, as sudden as it was. “Wow. That was graphic.”

“Satisfying image, though, right?”

“Oh my God, Ellie.” Sarah giggled and shook her head. She really, really loved this woman. “It won’t be that bad, I’m sure. I mean, it’ll be a nice, fun outing. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never shopped for…baby things.”

“It will be fine, I’m sure. I just need you to buffer for me. Please. I know it’s going to be awkward for you. I’ll owe you big time for this.” Sarah could hear Chuck’s sister’s desperation, and it pulled at her heartstrings.

“Gaaaah, alright. I’ll go.” Ellie squeaked in happiness. “But I’m doing this for you. And I’m doing it for Chuck. I want him to see the effort I’m making so that I don’t look like the bad guy.”

“My brother’s smart. He knows who the real bad guy is. But you know I’ll stand with you no matter what. I’ve got your back, Sarah.”

That made Sarah feel so much better about agreeing to shop with the Bartowski women in the morning. And she said as much before hanging up.

But the moment the phone went back into her purse, she groaned and hung her head. At least it would break up the monotony. And how.

But God, did it have to be with a woman who hated her guts?

“You can do this” she breathed to herself as she grabbed her purse, laptop, and keys, leaving her office for the night. She could do this.

“Stay strong,” she felt the need to add as she slid into the elevator.

———

Chuck ignored the strain in his jaw as he pushed open the door into the hallway and strolled the rest of the way to his destination. His arms were full, the burlap grocery bags in his arms sturdy but definitely heavy, and the coffees he’d bought at the cafe in the grocery store were firmly ensconced in a tray, the handle of said tray trapped between his teeth.

He’d thought on the way up about the guys he’d seen on TV as a kid who could hold extremely heavy things with their teeth. And here he was, with his teeth and jaw aching from two small paper cups with coffee in them.

That didn’t matter, though.

Something had struck him the right way this morning. He was sailing. He had a lot of work at the office. But he also had a meeting later with his dad and two potential sponsors for the free conference Chuck was organizing to get high-school aged boys and girls in the greater LA area interested in STEM.

Chuck and a few of his marketing people at Bartowski Electronics Corporation had been putting their heads together about this for months, and if they could get sponsors, they could start targeting which schools had the lousiest supplies—lack of technology, old computers, no tablets. Those were the schools that would receive invites to the conference.

It was still in the beginning stages, but he had to sell the sponsors now. He needed the money now.

That all aside, he was currently thumping his foot against the door of the apartment where the smartest woman he’d ever met lived. The coolest woman he’d ever met. With a heart of gold. And the bad ass skill sets required to save lives and catch bad guys.

His mood went up a few more notches.

And as the door swung open, said smartest, coolest woman with a heart of gold stood there with a wrinkle between her eyebrows, surprised to see him obviously, but glad all the same.

Was that relief, as well?

“Hnnn,” was all he was capable of.

Not just because of the tray clamped between his teeth. But also because he’d neglected to add that she was staggeringly beautiful. And helpful! …As she leaned in quickly to take the tray from his teeth with an amused, “You’re going to need a dentist after this, you know.”

He worked his jaw a few times, wincing. “Gimme a kiss, Sarah Walker, P.I. It’ll make it better and then I won’t need a dentist. That’s why I said that. That was the charming response I was going for.”

“I got it,” she said, wrinkling her nose and moving in for a kiss, her hand automatically resting on his cheek and lightly grazing down to his neck.

Oh…and she was his.

What a glorious life this is, he thought to himself as he leaned into the kiss with a soft, “Mmmm.”

And she finally pulled back with a grin. “How’re the teeth now?”

“Good as new.”

She giggled and backed into her apartment, holding the door for him with her free hand so that he could move into the living room. He kept going, all the way into the kitchen where he set down his bags on the counter as she followed.

She put the coffee tray down and pulled her hand back, looking at it and making a face. “Yeggh. Got your spit all over my hand.”

Chuck laughed. “Really, Sarah? We literally just exchanged saliva.”

“Wow. Cute.”

He lunged at her the moment she turned to peek into one of the bags, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her against him, craning his neck so that he could give her an open-mouthed kiss at the crook of her shoulder, next to the strap of the white sleeveless blouse she was wearing. He swiped his tongue over her skin as she squealed, shoving at him and stepping back with a laugh.

“Eeewww!!! Seriously?!” She was grinning even as she glared, wiping at her neck with the nearest dishtowel.

He laughed.

“Hey, you look all spruced up for eight-thirty in the morning. You have a meeting with a client?” He tried not to sound too hopeful. He knew she was having some struggles with getting clients after the first one failed to pass her credentials on to other people. Elias Sanderson. Frankly, the guy tended not to follow through on a lot of things. Chuck didn’t play into the whole lawyers-are-scum joke a lot of the other tycoons around town enjoyed. But that guy wasn’t trustworthy.

He’d forced himself to bite his tongue with Sarah, not wanting to influence her first experience with a client. And to Sanderson’s credit, he’d had the sense and wherewithal to know a good detective when he saw one, and he had paid her in full, with some extra credit for solving the case as quickly and painlessly as she had.

The press had been kept out of it, which was probably one of the more impressive skill sets in Sarah’s arsenal of epic skill sets.

“Uh, no…” was the only answer Sarah had to his question. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and reached into the bags to pull the groceries out. “Hey, what’s with all of this stuff you bought? You better not be putting all of this in my fridge.”

“Nope. Some of it will go in your cupboards.” He sent her a cheeky grin and she rolled her eyes.

“Chuck, I don’t want you buying my—”

“Sarah.” He interrupted her, putting down the eggs and shredded cheese, and setting his hands on her shoulders. “I spend so much time here that I’m going to end up eating seventy five percent of the food I bought this morning. You know it’s true.”

She shrugged. “That’s probably true. Fine. You get off on a technicality, Mister.”

Chuck arched an eyebrow at her. “Oooo. I like it when you do legal speak at me and then call me Mister.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she let him, before she pulled back and booped him on the nose with her finger.

As he unloaded the bags onto the counter, he subtly watched her move around the kitchen as she finished emptying her dishwasher. She never answered his question. Well, she answered it…but not to his satisfaction, which he supposed was his own problem.

But she was gently kneading her bottom lip between her teeth, something she did when she was nervous or antsy. When she had to do something she didn’t want to do.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” She turned and looked at him. He saw her shake herself a little and paste a nonchalant smile on her face. And when she met his eye, he knew she was well aware that he’d witnessed it and was seeing right through her. She dropped the smile and sighed.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Sarah pouted a little, and he knew she was probably frustrated by how easily he could pick through her attempts to guard her emotions. She just had to get used to it, that was all. Maybe she would someday. Eventually. He didn’t begrudge her for it, nevertheless.

“I’ll tell you if you make me one of those frittata thingies.”

“You’re telling me no matter what I make you.”

“I know.”

He smiled lovingly and reached out towards her. “Hey. C’mere. Of course I’ll make you a frittata. Even though I’ve got a long day of work ahead of me and meeeeetings and…” His voice drifted off as she faux glared, letting herself be pulled against him.

“No. Please. Continue.” She smirked. “Fine, I can make us burnt toast and fried eggs.”

He laughed and hugged her close. “Frittata it is.”

And when they pulled away, he continued emptying the grocery bags, folding them up and setting them aside as he let Sarah put away things he wasn’t using for breakfast. She knew where she wanted that stuff better than he did anyway.

“So…” She sighed. He was careful not to look at her. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought she’d feel more uneasy if he was watching her. “Ellie called last night.”

Chuck perked up. He was a sap. He knew he was a sap. But the idea of his sister and his girlfriend texting one another, talking on the phone, hanging out sometimes, made him feel like melting into a puddle and staying like that for eternity. “Oh, yeah? She say how she’s doing?”

“Mhm. Good. She’s trying to keep Devon from having a panic attack.”

He chuckled. “I know, he keeps calling me and threatening to beat my ass if I let Ellie, quote, ‘Go through this alone’, unquote, while he’s up in San Francisco for the surgery.”

Captain Awesome’s patient had scheduled a surgery with Dr. Woodcomb as his surgeon, and as it was a massively important surgery on the guy’s aorta, Awesome wasn’t about to reschedule. He was awesome like that.

In spite of Ellie not being due for a few weeks, the possibility of her going into labor early was high. Chuck and Ellie’s mom, Devon’s mom, and both sides of grandmothers had given birth early to all of their children.

At least, that was what Awesome kept texting both Chuck and Ellie. Much to Ellie’s annoyance.

Sarah smirked. “Like you’re just gonna go ‘Good luck, sis!’ and wave her off to the hospital in some strange van with the hopes she gets there okay.” She mimicked a grin and wave. He found it highly adorable.

But then her grin died and she slumped back against her counter. “She invited me to go shopping with her for a few last minute things for the baby.”

Chuck was confused. Why did that upset her? What about shopping with his sister made her upset? Or was it the baby thing? Was there some deep seated nervousness about…He couldn’t go down that road. That was a road he needed to stay the hell away from. He was moving away from that totally.

“Mom did tell her she should’ve had a baby shower,” he teased. Ellie hadn’t wanted one and it had driven her mother insane. At every turn, Ellie denied Mary Bartowski the chance to do all of the “Mom milestones” she felt she was entitled to, apparently.

Sarah gave him a flat look. “That’s exactly it.”

“What’s exactly it?”

“Your mom pressured Ellie into inviting her. And now I’m trapped.” She huffed.

Chuck frowned and cracked a few eggs into a bowl. “Wait, wait. So you said yes and then Ellie invited mom? That’s surprisingly underhanded of her.”

Sarah was quick to correct him. “No, no. She was perfectly up front with me about it. I knew before I said yes.”

Understanding slowly made its way through him. And he turned to face her as he beat the eggs. “Why’d you agree to go if you didn’t want to?” She gave him a look. “I know you don’t want to, don’t try to pretend you don’t. You and my mom aren’t exactly besties.” Her look got flatter. “Through no fault of your own, of course!” he rushed.

“I don’t want to avoid your mom, Chuck. That isn’t going to help anything. And Ellie needs a champion. She’s been tired, carrying around a human twenty-four seven, and she’s almost due, and she told me she’s achy and moody. Can you imagine your mom poking at her all day long, telling her what to do and how to do it in that way of hers?” She pulled back into herself a bit with a wince. “Sorry. She’s your mom. I shouldn’t be like that.”

“You should be whatever way you feel like,” he was quick to say. She gave him a small, grateful smile for that. “You’re right, though. I can imagine my mom driving Ellie insane, just the two of them spending a day together. Ellie might kill her.”

“She said something to me about neck snapping on the phone. Honestly, I think the best way I can make peace with your mom is if I keep her from being murdered by your sister today.” She shrugged. “I also want to do what I can to make the last days or weeks of your sister’s pregnancy as healthy and peaceful and just…easy for her as I can.”

Chuck watched her with no small amount of warmth. “You’re a complete and total package, Sarah Walker, you know that? Like, head to toe, inside and out. If my mom really and truly knew what she was going up against, she would throw in the towel. Immediately. And I don’t say that lightly; my mom is determined as all get-out.” He slid his gaze down Sarah’s body to her bare feet and back up her long denim-covered legs, torso, and finally to her face again. “She’s in trouble if she even tries.”

A slow smile grew on Sarah’s face, and then her lips broke into a grin and she chuckled, walking up to him and pecking him on the lips. “I’m really glad you showed up this morning to make me breakfast. Didn’t know I needed it ’til I opened the door to find you standing there with a coffee tray dangling from your mouth.” She patted him on the cheek and went to her fridge.

They enjoyed a quick breakfast, Chuck deciding not to talk about the day Sarah was about to endure. But he was grateful to her. She was actively taking on the role of his sister’s protector. And a part of him thought maybe Sarah wanted him to see she was making a legitimate effort with his mom.

She didn’t have to do that, though. He knew at whose feet the strife between his mom and girlfriend lay. It was up to Mary Bartowski to stop being so closed-off and stubborn about the people her children chose to be with.

Chuck knew he and Ellie could have both picked people who were way, way worse than Sarah Walker and Devon Woodcomb. In fact, he was sure neither of them could get better. Honestly, no other guy would go through what Devon did to be with Ellie. And Sarah…

He reached across the table and picked up her hand, holding onto it as he sipped his coffee. “I have to go. I’ve got a bunch of emails to write and you know I’m a wordy son of a bitch,” he teased, wrinkling his nose.

She giggled. “You are. But I loved those wordy emails when we were on different continents.”

They stood up and he moved to start cleaning, but she stopped him with a sudden, “Ah ah! No!”, grabbing his arm and steering him away from the table. “You’re incredibly sweet, making me breakfast when you actually have a job to be at this morning. I can clean everything up. I’ve got a few hours before Armageddon begins.”

Chuck snorted at that. “Okay, then. I’ll just bounce outta here and let the woman do the kitchen work.” He laughed as her hand smacked at the back of his head. Honestly, he hadn’t even seen it before it made contact. She was so impressive.

As she walked him to the door, he held fast to her hand, turning to grab the door handle and pulling her close at the same time. “Hey, listen. Don’t let my mom make you think you’re anything less than you are, okay?”

She made a face, teasing him. “And what exactly am I?”

Chuck took a moment to wonder if she picked up one of his habits after dating him all this time. He knew he sometimes reverted to jokes to hide when he was feeling vulnerable or nervous. He tried to lighten the mood. She was trying it now. And she never would’ve done that two years ago when she was head detective on his case.

It was cute. Sweet.

But he wasn’t letting her get away with it this time. “You’re everything, Sarah Walker.” Her face softened significantly and he could see clearly in her features that she loved him. He moved in to kiss her cheek, and then he swept the door open. “Will I see you tonight?”

“Please please please,” she rushed out, giggling self-deprecatingly.

“I’m here for you, bae.”

“And never call me bae again.”

“Hear you loud and clear, boo.”

“That’s only a little bit better.”

He was still laughing as he walked down the hallway, but by the time he climbed into the front seat of his car, he felt worry settle over him. Sarah could take care of herself. And Ellie wouldn’t let his mom get away with anything.

But his mother was a professional needler. She always had been. She always would be. And he was afraid his mom might put the needle in exactly the right spot.

———————

“This is atrocious, Mom. Sarah, is this not atrocious?”

Sarah held in a laugh at the incredulous look on Ellie’s face as she turned and lifted a pink and green polka dot baby moo moo for her brother’s girlfriend to see.

“It’s…not great, Mary. Sorry.”

Chuck’s mother rolled her eyes and huffed. “Feel how soft it is, though. The most important part is that she’s comfortable.”

“Okay, well…Can we find something she’ll be comfortable in that doesn’t also make her look like a terrifying nightmare clown baby? Do those two things have to be mutually exclusive? Like, comfortable and cute. I feel like there has to be something out there that’s both those things.”

Sarah watched the exchange and smartly slipped away, around one of the racks of clothes, and into another section of the store completely.

She stopped at an expensive looking dark wood crib that almost looked like an antique. She overheard Ellie tell her mom in the car ride over that she and Devon had already bought a crib. But this was beautiful. Something she could imagine wanting to buy if she ever had a child.

Sarah was with Ellie on at least that much. Chuck’s sister was attracted to very non-traditional things. She didn’t go for pastels and crisp, clean white. She liked greens, blues, dark woods, antique things. She went for safety over trends.

As Sarah turned the corner again, she came face to face with Mary Bartowski. She nearly yelped in surprise. Jesus, the woman was like a human version of a suspense thriller film sometimes. Mommie Dearest. Maybe she’d use that one sometime when Ellie was feeling down.

“I noticed you and my daughter have similar tastes,” Mary said, a little offhand, fingering the silk blankets stacked in front of her face.

“I noticed the same thing. But she and I agree on a lot. That’s why we get on so well.”

“Hm. Yes, I noticed that, too.” She stared at the younger woman for much longer than made said younger woman comfortable. “It’s very interesting you’re playing such a large role in this process. Ellie having her baby, I mean.”

“W-Why is that interesting? She’s Chuck’s sister. And my friend.”

A flash of something under Mary’s smile caught Sarah’s eye, but before she could say anything, Ellie showed up and pushed between them, grabbing one of the blankets. “I’ve bought Clara a lot of blankets already, but these are really nice. I mean, what if she spits up on one? I grab another and she spits up on that one, or we spill food on it or something? Three is a pretty good number for blankets, right? So soft.”

Sarah reached out and felt the green blanket Ellie pulled down from the pile. “That is really nice. Soft.”

“Right? Babies are so lucky. Everything is so soft and nice. Poor girl is going to grow up and start having to wear heels and fucking bras.”

“Ellie!” her mom whispered hoarsely. “You’re in a baby store.”

“What?” Ellie sassed. “It’s not like there are any actual babies in here.”

Sarah snorted, turning her face into her fist and pretending it was a cough. She’d learned that one from Chuck, and just like Mary Bartowski did with him, she turned on Sarah and said, “You’re not helping,” before skulking off.

Ellie lazily turned her head to Sarah. “Yeah, Sarah. You’re not helping,” she drawled.

“Hey. I’m trying to make some headway here. Stop getting me in trouble,” she hissed, unable to keep the amused smirk from her face.

Ellie winced. “Ooo. Yeah. My bad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I have a feeling no matter what I do or say, I’m not going to win with her.”

“Well…” Ellie reached up and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s cute you’re trying.”

Sarah laughed and playfully nudged Ellie. “Shut up.”

And then a buzz came from Ellie’s purse, followed by a soft, generic ring tone. “That’s probably Devon,” the soon-to-be mother mumbled as she rifled through her purse. Sarah took the purse and held it for Ellie so that it was easier for her to find the phone. “I should get it, though, to make sure he isn’t having a nervous breakdown. Did I tell you?” She pulled the phone out finally and held it in her hand, looking up at Sarah. “He went to sleep in his clothes one night. Not pajamas. Jeans and a T-shirt, socks, shoes, everything. His shoes inside my bed. So we could get to the hospital ASAP. He saw it in an episode of the Dick Van Dyke Show, but he didn’t understand we were supposed to think Dick Van Dyke was ridiculous for doing that.”

Sarah laughed as Ellie brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, honey—I—No, Devon. I have not had our daughter yet.” Ellie rolled her eyes to Sarah and grabbed her purse from her, mouthing “Jesus christ” as she walked away. “We talked about this, buddy. I’m not going to have our child without letting you know it’s happening.”

Shaking her head at the conversation as Ellie moved to the other side of the store, Sarah turned to do some more browsing and nearly ran into Mary again. “Jesus—!” She sighed and put a hand over her heart, collecting herself. Seriously. Kathy Bates would be proud. She was storing that one for later, too.

“Sorry to scare you.”

She didn’t sound that sorry.

“Who is Ellie talking to?”

“Oh, um…Awes—erm—Devon called. To check up on her, I assume.”

“How are things at the…agency, Sarah?”

The private investigator blinked at the suddenness of the change of subject. “Erm…” She collected herself quickly. She had to remind herself that she’d been dealing with difficult people virtually all her life, in law school, and in her job with Pinkerton especially. She could handle this one, too. “It’s going well. Just finished a case. If you know anyone who might need a P.I., send them my way,” she chirped, grinning in as friendly a way as she could.

“Yes. I’ll let you know if any of my friends need to find out if their husbands are cheating on them.” Mary smiled sweetly and pat Sarah’s arm as she swept past her with an “excuse me”.

Sarah stood there, burning. How dare that woman get the last word!

Clenching her jaw, she pulled her cell out and saw that she’d missed a text from Chuck. Exactly who she’d wanted to talk to. “How’s it going?” he asked. She texted back a short and sweet “Fine” and rolled her eyes at herself. It took a moment for him to respond with the flat look emoji. Of course he wanted more than just a one word answer. “Could be better,” she continued. “And I honestly hoped it would be better. But your mom is…” She paused, biting her lip, and then she finished typing and hit send, “…good at needlepoint.”

She had to wait a few moments for his response. “I love it when you talk in code. So private investigator-y. So hot.”

“Please don’t sext with me while I’m baby shopping with your sister and YOUR MOM WHO HATES ME.”

“Was that sexting? I’ve got a lot worse in my arsenal. Or better, depending on your POV on sexting. Also when you say ‘baby shopping’ I picture you guys walking down a row of babies picking one out like people do with carrots at the grocery store.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and put her phone away, turning to find the rest of her party. Ellie was right there. “Fuck!” She shut her eyes and huffed, blushing and looking around. “Is sneaking up on people a family trait?”

Ellie chuckled. “Maybe. Saying ‘fuck’ in a baby stuff store might have just become a family trait, though, so welcome to the family.”

That got Chuck’s sister a flat look for the ages.

———————

By the end of what proved to be a very fruitful day for Ellie and Clara, Sarah was half-blistered by the singeing sideways glances of Mary Bartowski, along with the backhanded compliments and condescension.

Sarah knew exactly what the woman was doing. She strategically planted herself near her son’s girlfriend when Ellie was distracted or elsewhere in another section of whatever store they happened to be in, and that was when she got her jabs in.

Ellie caught her only once, and Mary Bartowski was dragged off and probably spoken to in a way only Ellie could get away with. Sarah’d felt immature for the smirk that put on her face, and the “Haa haaa!” she thought as Ellie guided her mom away from the scene of the crime.

However, even though the private investigator saw Mary’s intentions clear as day, that didn’t make the barbs feel any less terrible. As much as she tried not to let it get under her skin, it did.

It hurt.

And she was pissed off that it hurt. Falling in love with Chuck Bartowski had opened her up to a lot of things—emotions mostly. Of course she should have known love wouldn’t be the only thing.

There was also frustration, longing, anger, and yes, hurt.

Love was the most important thing. That feeling she got when she opened the door this morning to find him standing there with his arms and mouth full. It hadn’t just been relief, or the pleasure of seeing the man she loved, though there was plenty of both of those things. It was also a feeling of safety and reassurance that was much needed. A feeling of security. Of knowing he thought about her enough that he went to the grocery store down the street to buy the makings for them to enjoy a nice breakfast together before he had to go to work, that he wanted to be with her in the small window of time he had in the morning.

She had to remember that to keep Mary from winning the day. She’d dig into her arsenal of things she learned from Langston Graham back when she first started at Pinkerton, simply by watching him work. Never let them see the chinks in your armor, never let them see your weak spots, and never let them see when they get to you.

She was human. And Mary was getting to her. She just had to steal herself to keep the woman from seeing it.

And take the high road. As hard as that was. As much as she didn’t want to—and probably wouldn’t have if she wasn’t Chuck’s mother. Sarah owed it to Chuck to at least try.

But then Ellie had invited them for dinner at her and Devon’s condo in Burbank since Devon had just landed at the airport and was on his way home in an Uber. Mary was tasked with calling the B.E.C. men and getting them to dinner as well.

The day seemed like it just wouldn’t end and she needed it to end so badly.

The only respite Sarah got was sitting in the backseat of Ellie’s car where Mary couldn’t see her face. She grit her teeth and glared at the back of the older woman’s seat, subtly lifting her middle finger and subsequently waggle it in Mary’s direction.

Sarah insisted on helping Ellie cook, and was dubbed the “sous chef” for the night while Mary poured herself a cocktail and sat at the table. It gave Sarah something to do, and she was better able to pretend she didn’t see the significant looks Ellie was trying to flash at her. The one that said “Are you okay?” was the one she avoided the most.

Because the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t okay. She would be later. She’d be fine later. But right now, everything was bubbling to the surface. A mixture of anger and general upset.

Finally the door opened and the booming, jolly voice of Devon Woodcomb brought a lift to the young woman’s spirits.

“Hey, hey, hey! My favorite three ladies in one room!” He shut the door just in time, because Ellie was quick on her feet for someone who was in her third trimester of pregnancy. And her arms were around him before he even had time to put his bags down.

Sarah let herself look a little longer than was maybe proper as they embraced, if only because it made her heart a little melty—and in spite of not being as big a sap as her boyfriend was, she knew she needed some of that heart-meltyness tonight. It was a balm on her wounds, and a reminder that it was possible for she and Chuck to flourish in spite of Mary Bartowski…because Ellie and Awesome were.

Devon put his hand on Ellie’s stomach. “Three and a half!”

“Three and four-fifths more like,” Sarah chirped as she swung out of the kitchen.

“See? I like you.” Devon pointed at her with a grin of agreement, his face so bright and sincerely ecstatic to be home that she wasn’t sure what she’d been upset about all day in the first place. She walked right up to him and gave him a hug, which he not only accepted wholeheartedly, he even hugged her back so hard she felt a few pops in her torso.

Sarah was careful not to pay too much attention to the exchange between Captain Awesome and Mary Bartowski, but she heard from the kitchen the quiet politeness of the latter in the face of the former’s enthusiasm.

But she froze when she heard Ellie say ,“Let me help you put your bags in our bedroom.”

No no no no no no no! No! Please!

She couldn’t be left alone with Mary Bartowski. She couldn’t. Not even for however long it took for Ellie and Awesome to make out or whatever it was they were going to do in their bedroom.

When was Chuck going to get here? Why wasn’t he here already?

Sarah spun from where she’d gone back to stirring the spaghetti sauce and caught Ellie’s eye. There was a definite look of apology there, and Sarah was quick to shake her head and smile reassuringly to let the woman know she’d be fine. The Woodcombs deserved a snippet of time to greet each other without onlookers in the room. And Sarah was sure Ellie needed to vent a bit about her mother behind closed doors.

“Need help with anything, Sarah?”

She looked up from the sauce again and smile at Mary. “Uh, I’m not sure, exactly, what Ellie has planned. I just know I’m supposed to stir the sauce.”

“Well, Ellie learned this recipe from me, so I’m sure I can figure out what’s next.”

Sarah kept the smile on her face even as she went back to stirring the delicious-smelling sauce in the pot.

“Though you might want to add a dash of oregano in there. Ellie sometimes doesn’t put enough, I’ve noticed. And she doesn’t take constructive advice well.”

“Oh. Alright.” Grabbing the oregano, she carefully sprinkled a bit more in the sauce, stirring with the spoon in her other hand.

“A bit more…” Sarah sprinkled more. “More than that. Here.” Mary walked up and took the oregano from Sarah, who moved out of the way, and let the woman shake even more oregano into the sauce. “There. That’s perfect.”

She set the oregano down and handed the spoon back to Sarah.

“You know, I find your line of work interesting, Sarah.” Because she didn’t entirely know what was coming, the P.I. stayed quiet, stealing herself for whatever was coming next. “Did it require any schooling?”

Sarah ran her free hand down her blouse, an unconscious attempt to straighten it or…who knew what? But she was mad at herself for it. It was a show of weakness, vulnerability. She was supposed to be above that. “I went to Harvard Law.”

The way Mary’s eyes widened did a lot to bolster Sarah’s confidence. Yeah, that’s right. I’m an Ivy League Bitch with a capital B.

“And you decided to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency? You could be a high powered politician by now, you know. And I know Pinkerton doesn’t pay that kind of money.”

How did she know?

And then Sarah realized she must have done research on it. A way to check up on the woman who was dating her son. Seeing what her financial status was, to peg whether or not money was a factor in Sarah’s interest in Chuck.

It burned her up, but she refused to let it show.

“No, it definitely doesn’t. But it was incredibly rewarding work. I’m proud of what I did there.”

“I see. But you left for my son Charles?”

“Yes. Er…no. Somewhat. Not entirely. But mostly, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Because I was tired of always being on the other side of the planet from him, only seeing him every once in awhile when we could line up our crazy busy schedules.” She took a deep breath. “And, honestly, the agency did their best to make me stop seeing him because they thought it was a conflict of interest, and I refused to let them do that. So…here I am.” She gave Chuck’s mom a wide closed mouth smile.

“Interesting. Because honestly, Sarah, the way it looks from here is that you left a relatively low-paying job to live with my son and pursue a career that will garner even less financial stability than before…”

“What are you getting at, exactly?” Sarah asked, the spatula stilled in the sauce, her blue eyes flashing as she turned them on the shorter woman.

“My son is a pretty safe safety net if things don’t work out with this agency of yours.”

So she finally said it. Sarah let out a soft huff through her nose, her lips twitching in a semblance of a bitter smile as she looked away.

“I don’t want a safety net. I just want him.”

“It just doesn’t look that way from here. If you weren’t in Los Angeles, if my son wasn’t supporting you and you were off somewhere else in the country trying to get this going, you’d fall flat on your face. The only people who start enterprises like this one are those who have a fallback. Chuck is your fallback. And that doesn’t sit well with me.”

Sarah pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezed until it hurt. Then she turned on the woman, her gaze hard.

“You know, it doesn’t feel great, knowing what you think of me. But I can handle insults, backhanded compliments, the condescension, and the superior attitude you have when you address me—and that’s when you aren’t ignoring me completely. All of that I can handle. You know what really makes me mad, though?”

“What?” Mary asked slowly, her T clicking nastily.

“The complete and utter lack of respect you obviously have for your son.”

Mary reared back, her lips twisting. “How dare y—”

“Chuck is rich. He’s the richest person I’ve ever met. If I knew just how rich he actually was, I probably wouldn’t even be able to comprehend it.” Mary smirked in a self-congratulatory way that made Sarah want to say what she was going to say even more than she did before. “But he is so much more than what’s in his bank account.” She let that settle for a second before she continued. “He’s a good man. Best person I’ve ever known. He respects me, has faith in me. He makes me laugh. He makes me happy.”

“His wallet makes you happy.”

Sarah rushed on as if she hadn’t heard that. “And it makes me incredibly sad to hear that’s what you think of your own son. That he’d have nothing else to offer a woman besides what’s in his wallet. He’s your son. You should know better.”

“I know what my son has to offer.”

But it was a weak retort, one that lacked the bite of her earlier retorts, and the conversation came to a sudden stop as the door opened and Chuck stepped into the living room with Stephen in tow.

“Heyyyy!” Chuck drawled with a grin. “Smells like spaghetti!”

Stephen gave both of them smiles over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room as he shut the door behind them. “I feel like an old man for needing to follow Charles to my own daughter’s condo. All the twists and turns to get here, I get confused. Gosh, it does smell good.”

Mary had moved away from Sarah, going directly to Chuck and grabbing his shoulders, moving in to kiss his cheek. “Hi, sweetie. How was the meeting?”

She moved to her husband and they kissed with a sincere amount of affection. It boggled Sarah’s mind.

“Good!” Chuck swept his gaze to Sarah and kept it there, she noticed, probing, seeing how she was. She kept her mask in place. Now wasn’t the time to break down. She was just so mad. So ready to tear something to shreds. She was fighting tears of anger.

“We’ve got one and a half sponsors for the conference. Just three and a half to go.”

“And a half?” Mary asked.

“Well, Gordon’s not entirely convinced yet. He gave us a maybe,” Stephen explained as Chuck slid away from his parents and walked around into the kitchen.

Sarah watched him the whole way. And when his arms curled around her body, she let go of the spatula and clung to him tightly, burying her face in his collar for a moment, soaking him in. It felt so good to be held like this. The way he squeezed just right, in a way that let her know he needed her, too.

“Oops, spatula down…” he murmured in her hair.

She pulled away from him with a gasp as she saw the spatula sink into the sauce. And like an idiot, she tried to get it out.

She ended up brushing her fingers against the sizzling hot edge of the pot and pulled back with a hiss, sticking her fingers in her mouth.

“Hey, hey. Whoa. Sarah, you oka—?

And before he could even finish his question, Sarah was out of the kitchen. “Sarah??” he called after her.

She hurried down the hallway to the bathroom, fighting tears that had nothing to do with the minor burn on her fingers.

—————

Chuck was moving to follow Sarah before he was even aware of what was happening, like there was a magnetic pull between them. She’d squeezed him particularly hard when he hugged her. Like she had the night she’d shown up at his door after leaving Pinkerton. She needed him.

The only thing he could think was that today had been awful. And now she’d charged out of the room after burning her fingers—a careless thing that was very rare with his P.I.—and he needed to talk to her.

But Ellie and Awesome came out of the hallway as Sarah squeezed past them.

“What happened?” Ellie asked, obviously concerned.

“Sarah burned her fingers, I think. I’m gonna—”

“I’ve got this,” Ellie said, putting a hand on his chest.

“But—”

“I’ve got this.”

She gave him a look and he stayed put, watching as Ellie followed after his girlfriend. He was half-crazy with concern, but Awesome’s hand on his shoulder calmed him.

“Ellie’s a neurosurgeon, bro. Remember? She’s got this.”

Chuck let out a soft huff of amusement for Awesome’s benefit and let himself be led back into the other room. His mom, on the other hand, had a certain look on her face. It was pinched in annoyance. She was far off somewhere, thinking about something, and whatever it was made her angry.

Had something happened today?

Awesome looked pretty clueless, which meant he’d probably arrived just before they had.

There were another few minutes of empty small-talk about Awesome’s surgery he’d performed the day before. Chuck stirred the sauce and eventually turned it off, draining the pasta and leaving it for Ellie to do whatever she had in mind.

And eventually his sister and girlfriend came out to join them. Chuck was at Sarah’s side immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Put a little ointment on my knuckles and I’m good. Nothing too bad.”

He studied her features closely, looking for any sign of tears. If his mom had done something to make Sarah cry, he was dragging her out into the courtyard and blistering her with his words. He wasn’t standing for that shit. That wasn’t happening.

But there was no trace of tears, though she was upset. He could still see it. Ellie must have said something to her, though, because his sister winked at him behind Sarah’s back and mouthed “she’s okay”.

Before Chuck could say anything else, Sarah slipped her uninjured hand into his and pulled him to the table where everyone was sitting down. Awesome justified his nickname by insisting on finishing dishing everything up to keep Ellie from having to do it.

And then they feasted.

Chuck half listened to the conversation at the table. Awesome had performed an artery bypass grafting surgery on a middle aged man, saving his life from a potentially deadly situation.

But as heroic as it was, as much as Awesome deserved praise and respect for what he did for other people, Chuck was distracted by whatever had transpired between his girlfriend and his mother.

Something had transpired. Otherwise Ellie wouldn’t be switching her gaze back and forth between the other women at the table, her eyes narrowed. As though she was trying to figure out the same thing.

It would be just like his mom to wait until nobody else was around before jamming the knife in under Sarah’s ribcage. But his mom didn’t look as pleased with herself as he thought she might if that were the case. Did Sarah bite back? He was proud of her if she did.

Chuck knew inherently that Sarah would be more apt to stick up for herself if the perpetrator wasn’t his mother. She’d outright told him once that she loved him and therefore didn’t want him to be in the middle of some ridiculous rivalry straight out of a “crap romantic comedy”.

He appreciated more than he could say how hard she was trying…

But he didn’t want this.

He would deal with the fallout with his mom. He didn’t care.

“Chuck?”

He snapped to attention and looked across the table at his father. “Yeah, Dad? Sorry, I—I got distracted. Lots of things happenin’ in the ol’ noggin’ today. What were you saying?” He shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and sipped his pinot noir.

“I was just asking what you thought about our chances for getting Gordon to sponsor the convention?”

He nibbled his lip, then dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Well, I don’t know. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t part well with his assets. Very frugal. We’re still in the early stages yet. Still a lot to plan. But I think once he hears everything we mean to do at the convention, the lives we might change, how massive it’ll be for the future of STEM and, you know, getting kids from low-income households into science and math and tech, he’ll see the benefit of it. Maybe we can really pound home the fact that charity looks really really good to consumers. A charitable company always gets more customers, right? People love that stuff. Makes them feel good about themselves.” Chuck shrugged. “Granted, that’s a kind of crappy way to look at it. Obviously we’re doing it to help kids, to expand STEM in our country to non-wealthy, non-white kids with fewer resources than other kids…”

“That’s right, Charles. It’s one of the things that attracts people to you. You’re so charitable. Always giving, giving, giving. Never asking for anything in return,” his mother said. He wasn’t a fool. He saw the way her eyes flickered over at Sarah for a moment before she turned back to him.

He felt Sarah tense up.

He understood what his mom was getting at.

But before he could say anything, his dad jumped up from the table. “Hey, Devon. Why don’t you tell me about that ’64 Mustang your dad is fixing up? He told me about it last time we talked. He said you’re helping him with it while you’re down here.”

As his brother-in-law regaled his dad with muscle car talk, Chuck turned an angry gaze on his mom. He reeled it back just enough and then flicked his gaze towards the kitchen. “Hey, Mom. How about you and I do the dishes, since Ellie and Sarah cooked everything?”

“Sure.” She climbed up from the chair, and set her napkin on the table. “Excuse us.”

Chuck gathered up everyone’s plates, letting Mary go first, watching as Ellie turned to Sarah and leaned in close to talk to her. He went to the sink with the plates and set them inside, turning on the water and starting to scrub as his mom stepped in beside him with the dish towel to dry.

“You need to lay off right damn now,” he said in a quiet, steady voice.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what—”

“You fooled absolutely nobody at that table and it’s embarrassing that you’re still trying to play it off, Mom. I need you to stop saying shit like that to Sarah.” He turned to pin her with his intense gaze.

“Like what? I didn’t say anything to her this whole time we’ve been eating.”

“That whole thing about me giving and never asking for anything in return. You looked right at her. Like she’s some sort of charity case of mine. Like I’m supporting her.”

“You are supporting her.”

“I’m not. She won’t let me. You need to open your eyes and really look at her, Mom.”

“I’ve seen her.”

“No. You haven’t. Not like I have.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she replied sarcastically.

Chuck handed her the clean plate to dry and spun to face her directly. “Hey. Mom. I need you to lay off. I said it before. I’ll say it again. And this better be the last time I have to say it. Because you’re gonna run into a lot of trouble if you keep going down this road. I’m so serious.”

She didn’t say anything as she set the dry plate aside. “Just wash the dishes.”

“No. Mom, I need you to tell me you’ll try harder.”

“To do what? I’m not letting my son get taken for a ride.”

“I’m not getting taken for a ride,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one in the other room could hear them. They all looked fully engrossed in their respective conversations. He turned back. “Even if I was, that’s a ride I’d gladly take over and over again.”

She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat and grabbed the plate from him, drying it furiously.

“Mom. I need your word.”

“I don’t want to have to say ‘I told you so’ when you get hurt. When you find out your wallet is—”

“Mom. For shit’s sake. Just stop.” He turned off the sink for a second and glared. “Stop.”

She shrugged and sighed. “Okay.”

Chuck could tell that was the best he was getting for the time being, so he turned the water back on and finished the dishes.

Stephen and Mary left first, a storm cloud over the latter’s head in spite of the smile she flashed as they walked into the courtyard and disappeared through the gate.

Ellie put a hand on Chuck’s arm as Sarah and Awesome hugged at the door. She hugged him hard and when he meant to pull away, she clung tighter, preventing him from moving.

“Make sure you take care of her tonight. Mom was a total and absolute bitch to her all day. She handled it well, but she’s pretty badly blistered from the onslaught. You have some work to do.”

She pulled back and added a quick, whispered, “Love ya.”

“Love ya, too, Ellie. And thank you.” She shrugged and he leaned in close, squeezing her shoulders. “No, seriously. Sis. Thank you.”

Her eyes sparkled as she pat his cheek, and Chuck wrapped an arm around his brother-in-law, before they said their goodbyes and left.

Chuck slung his arm over Sarah’s shoulders and pulled her in close as she rounded his torso with both her arms and buried her face in his chest with a sigh.

They climbed into his car and he just sat there for a moment, the silence tense and awkward. She had to feel that he wanted to say something. He just didn’t know what.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” he finally settled with.

She bit her lip gently and shrugged. “Uh, yeah.” She lifted her hand and flashed the fingers she’d burned at him. “Don’t think it’ll scar or anything. I was just being clumsy and dumb—”

“Sarah, no. I—”

“I know, Chuck. But I really don’t want to talk about it just yet. Please.”

“Did she��?”

“Please. Later.” She turned and stared out of her car window, not looking at him for even a moment as she buckled her seatbelt.

Chuck sighed and followed suit, turning on the car and pulling out of the parking space, onto the street, and driving them back to Sarah’s.

The drive was silent, tense.

And by the time they got to Sarah’s apartment, Chuck felt the need to corner her, make her talk. He needed her to know that he wasn’t letting his mom pull this bullshit with her. He wasn’t brushing it off just because she was his mom. Sarah deserved respect.

But Sarah Walker looked tired and upset. And he wasn’t sure he had the heart to corner her when she was like this. So he stayed in the hallway as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

She halted when he didn’t follow, turning to face him. She must’ve figured out why he was still outside and she shyly pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Will you stay?”

Not a single moment passed before he answered, “Of course.”

Sarah’s hand reached out and twisted in his shirt, pulling him inside with her, shutting the door behind them and clinging to him again. He didn’t say anything. He just held her.

They could talk later. When she wanted to.

For the moment, he was content to give whatever warmth and strength she needed.

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Director Sudhanshu Saria on his latest film, Knock Knock Knock

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Director Sudhanshu Saria on his latest film, Knock Knock Knock

Filmmaker Sudhanshu Saria on Knock Knock Knock, his love of lesser-known stories and why he works in cafés

One of the two lead characters in director Sudhanshu Saria’s film, Knock Knock Knock, is a creature of habit. He sits at a particular table in the café he visits on his vacations; he sits with his elbows perfectly aligned; and there’s also a curious pattern to his morning walks. This is something that Saria, who has also written and edited the film, is very familiar with. “I can’t write at home. I need to be in public spaces with my back to the wall. I believe every café has a certain energy and, when I end up having a good day of writing, I go back to the same café,”explains the 36-year-old filmmaker, whose film launched on Mubi India today.

Life patterns

A psychological thriller set in Darjeeling, Knock Knock Knock revolves around Dada (Shantilal Mukherjee), an older man who makes crossword puzzles as a hobby, and Keta (Phuden Sherpa), a young Nepali tattoo artist who finds patterns in everything. The film premièred as one of five shorts in the Shorts Showcase at the Busan International Film Festival last year and was screened at the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival in their Homecoming section in 2019, along with new films by Peter Strickland and Yorgos Lanthimos. “Dada and Keta are like yin and yang. Keta finds patterns in art and design while Dada does so in numbers and alphabets,” says Saria.

Much like his début feature in 2015, the tender gay love story Loev (on Netflix), this film was also triggered by personal experiences. “I always had this image of my father, who lives in Darjeeling, as a very social person. He is an extrovert who gets along with everyone. But when I spent about 10 days at home with him in the spring of 2018, without my mum present as a buffer, I felt like I really discovered him. I realised he was really lonely. He can chat with anyone but he’s not willing to be intimate and vulnerable with anyone,” he says, adding that the film, which started as a meditation on loneliness and heartbreak, goes on to explore more complex themes of human psychology.

Stories from the fringes

With a run-time of 40 minutes, Knock Knock Knock rests on the shoulders of its lead cast — one a veteran of Bengali theatre and cinema, and the other a young boy plucked from the streets of Darjeeling, who had never acted before. “It took a lot for me to convince Phuden to do this film. He didn’t believe that someone had cast him in a movie or that it’ll ever get made. He wouldn’t come on time for rehearsals or learn his lines, but something changed about four days before we were supposed to start shooting,” says Saria. “Shanti da, on the flip side, was harder to direct. I like to rehearse a lot before shooting stars but every time I broached the subject, he would shut down. He was coming from a space of ‘this is my job, don’t tell me how to do it’. So I had to back off.” As for the chemistry between the veteran and the amateur, Saria says, “I was a bit of a wreck trying to be a good match-maker, while being equally possessive and protective and worried for each of them.”

A huge believer in Mira Nair’s words — ‘if we don’t tell our stories, no one else will’ — Saria has come to realise the value and power of his perspective and the ability to immerse himself from the subject and yet stay detached. “Since I’ve constantly shifted cities, somewhere in the back of my mind, there is this understanding that I might have to move tomorrow. I think it helps you detach and have an outsider’s perspective,” he says, adding, “There are some stories like Loev that only I can tell. These are stories from disenfranchised communities or those that aren’t often told. I wanted Knock Knock Knock to be a film shot in Darjeeling because we don’t tell enough stories from that part of the country.”

Journey to cinema

A self-confessed ‘tea-estate baby’, the filmmaker grew up on a steady diet of masala Hindi films like Mr India and Lamhe. “I didn’t know anyone in the movies or how films were made. In my mind, films were made by fairies, with angel dust.” A chance encounter with film students at Ithaca College, in upstate New York, led him to studying film-making and subsequently working with film companies in the US. He returned to India only so he could tell the kind of stories that felt personal to him. “If I had continued to work in Los Angeles, I would have to write characters called John and Paul,” concludes the director, who is now working on a drama series for Amazon Prime Video.

Knock Knock Knock is now streaming on Mubi India

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