#before she finally did us a favor and agreed to come indoors

[parvuls]

a cat shows up on jack's balcony one day, and then refuses to leave. at first jack is afraid that maybe it's stuck there (he lives on the sixth floor, it's a legitimate fear), except no, because one morning on his way to the rink jack sees the cat sunbathing down in the alley behind his building and that afternoon the cat is back on the balcony. so apparently the cat is able to come and go from a sixth floor balcony and just... decides to hang around anyway.

they co-exist pretty well for a while. sometimes jack feeds the cat leftovers and in return sometimes the cat rubs against his ankles when jack sits on the balcony reading a book.

but then winter comes. it starts getting colder and colder and jack has a hard time sticking to their status quo, because on really cold nights he's wide awake thinking of how the cat is faring instead of getting his much needed seven hours of sleep. he even leaves the balcony door open while he goes on a roadie (reasoning that burglars, unlike cats, probably can't climb six floors to break in), but when he comes back it doesn't seem like the cat took the unspoken invitation.

the first day it snows, jack crouches down in the balcony's doorway and tries everything. he glares, he pleads, he even tries enticing the cat in with some chicken, but the cat stays stubbornly huddled under the wooden chair jack sometimes reads on -- fur matted with freezing water and very clearly shivering -- and refuses to come in.

jack doesn't know anyone with pets and he's got no clue what to do about the situation, so in a fit of desperation he googles the nearest vet office and drives there on his day off.

dr. oluransi is busy with a patient when jack gets there. the patient is a canary with a sprained wing, the receptionist informs him cheerfully, and then asks if jack made an appointment.

the receptionist is... unfortunately attractive. it's a real problem, because jack doesn't do too well with people he finds genuinely attractive. it doesn't help that he hasn't, actually, made an appointment, because apparently it's not possible to make a vet appointment without a pet.

he does his best to explain his problem to the receptionist (it goes... as well as can be expected when jack is left to interact with attractive, outgoing people, which means he says all the wrong things and probably comes off as a giant dickbag, in shitty's words). at least the guy seems more amused than offended. he promises to check with dr. oluransi whether he can fit jack in, but returns with an apologetic expression to say that they're completely booked and technically, there's no admission without a pet, so dr. oluransi really can't help him anyway.

fuck. well, jack tried. he's just about to give up, maybe give glaring at the cat until it comes in another go, but just as he turns to the door he's surprised by a quick "wait!". when he turns back around, the receptionist is stepping away from his desk, looking up at jack.

he asks if jack tried to catch and wrap the cat in towels so it can't escape. jack considers it before he asks, "...is that safe?", because that sounds like it could go so wrong, but the receptionist smiles and says, "yeah, that's the only way to bring cats in if they won't take bribery! those sweet furballs do not enjoy carriers, lemme tell you". jack panics over potentially hurting the cat and asks the receptionist if he's got any experience with it, and the receptionist kind of blinks at him and says, "well, I, uh, helped ransom -- um, dr. oluransi once or twice, yeah! it's no big deal, really!". they then stare at each other for an awkward moment while jack tries to decide if he's going to sound like a probable murderer if he invites a stranger to his home, but the guy beats him to it by hesitantly offering, "would you... like my help?"

so. okay. either jack doesn't look like a probable murderer or the receptionist ("bitty! or -- eric? sorry, all my friends are from college and I sometimes forget how to adult") has very poor self-preservation skills. either way jack won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

bitty meets him at the building's lobby after his shift ends, carrying soft towels and cat treats and a -- pie? which jack assumes isn't meant for the cat, but then again he doesn't know anything about cat diets, so maybe it is. he chatters at jack while they ride up the elevator (the canary's name is meg, her wing is just fine, bitty took a picture of her sitting on dr. olurnasi's head, does jack want to see?), and his smile is really nice and he doesn't seem offended by jack's everything and he's still really unfortunately attractive. jack focuses on the cat problem instead, because even stubborn cats are easier than people.

it takes bitty approximately fifteen seconds to gain the cat's temporary trust -- jack thinks the cat treats must've helped, and feels a little cheated because the dry chicken he offered couldn't have been that bad, jack eats it five times a week -- and one minute to trap the cat in a big, fluffy towel and lift it into his arms. the cat is fast, but bitty is faster, and jack is impressed. the cat -- not so much. jack has never heard anything yowl like the cat is yowling in bitty's arms, as if it's being carried towards a torture chamber rather than to a warm safe space with an actual roof.

the cat, miraculously, stops yowling once bitty sets it down on jack's living room floor. it hisses at bitty, glares at jack, and then promptly gets distracted by all the fascinating new smells. apparently the space underneath jack's couch is a prime hiding location. it's warm, and there's no snow, and the cat isn't trying to destroy any of jack's furniture, so overall jack considers the whole thing a raging success.

"does it have a name?" bitty asks, after he's done cooing at the cat and trying to take pictures of its flashing eyes in the dark space under the couch. "apparently y'all are going to be roommates, so it should have a name, right?"

bitty is smiling up at jack again, and his cheeks are flushed and there are gray-white cat hairs all over his sweater, and jack doesn't trust himself with naming a cat and also wants to ask bitty to stay, maybe forever, because jack can be intense like that -- except that's probably an insane thought to have. his next one isn't great, but it's definitely better than inviting bitty to move in. "you should name it."

bitty, it seems, doesn't think that's too weird. in fact, he beams like that's the greatest thing he ever heard. he doesn't think it's weird when jack invites him to stay for dinner, either, and doesn't think it's weird when the cat finally comes out of its hiding place and jack feeds it bits of meat from his plate. he does think it's weird when jack asks if the pie was meant for the cat, but in a good way, probably, because he laughs and laughs and feeds jack the best pie he's ever eaten and also gives jack his phone number before he leaves.

the cat warms up to bitty again, eventually, and even curls up on bitty's neck while bitty is curled up in jack's arms. jack thinks it's definitely all the cat treats.

tl;dr: a cat adopts jack, as cats do. the cat is stubborn, as cats are. the cat brings jack bitty and sometimes even allows jack to pet it, because cats are smarter than people and that's just a fact.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #I wanted to write a short au post about jack + cat but ended up with 1k+ words because I just be like that sometimes #all cat behaviors in this shortfic are based on a very real cat #all stubborn cat behaviors in this shortfic are based on a very real cat who suffered through three winters on my balcony #before she finally did us a favor and agreed to come indoors #but also JACK AND CATS. JACK AND BITTY AND CATS. #pavfics #text #check please! #jack x bitty

[horsesarecreatures]

 I’m glad this week is almost over. I think I’ve resolved things with the barn owner and we’ve come to an understanding, but things got worse before they got better. 

I went back to NJ for Easter and stayed there to let the situation cool down a bit. I hadn’t texted or called Deborah since the farrier came, but on Easter she started texting me and said that I could no longer have cannoli off the lead rope in the indoor arena because she had found another piece of wood chipped off just after she’d had it replaced. But it wasn’t from Cannoli and I told her that. She started grilling me about the days I’d taken him in the indoor and what I did with him. I started ignoring her texts and eventually she left me alone. I was reading them out loud to my family at dinner, and my grandma made the point that I should not talk to her again because she clearly wasn't listening to me.

I agreed with my grandma and decided to send her an email instead. That way there could be no misinterpretation of tone, accidental voice raising, etc. Plus, considering that she’d gone back on what she previously said twice regarding the pricing of services, I wanted to get everything in writing. This is what I sent her: 

Dear Deborah,

I know we both want what is in the best interest of Cannoli, and would like to avoid misunderstandings in the future.

One of the reasons I chose your boarding facility is because I was under the impression that you or your staff would be willing and able to carry out tasks associated with the daily care of my horses (and sometimes treatment involving abscesses) without me having to come up there every day.  I would like to clarify that this is, in fact, a service you can provide, as I cannot come up every day since I am finding law school extremely demanding.

If, in fact, it is possible for you to provide care for my horses without me being there, I would also like to clarify the costs various services would be so I can plan my finances appropriately.  In this way, I can make sure I can pay you on time. Please let me know the price you would charge for the following:

1. Soaking

2. Wrapping

2. Handgrazing for a half an hour if he gets bone chip removal surgery

3.  Anything that goes beyond the average care of a horse, for example screwing on plates.  Perhaps this can be charged in half hour increments once the time the task takes is established.  If you think this is feasible, how much would the extra care be per half hour?

It is my hope that we can come up with solutions that will be satisfactory to both of us.  

Sincerely,

Noelle

I sent this on Tuesday. It was ignored until today. To me, her unwillingness to answer this or put it in writing seemed like a sign of bad faith, so I started checking out new barns. I wound up visiting three, and found one I really liked, with pasture board, an outdoor arena with jumps, a cross country field, and access to the North Salem Bridle Trails (those are really nice - well maintained and over a 100 miles through private NY & Connecticut properties). The price was also slightly cheaper because it’s in a different county, though it was also a bit further than ideal and had no indoor arena. I didn’t want to move the horses since I know it’s stressful for them, but these people put it in writing that they’d be able to do basic medical care, which I needed.

But then Deborah finally got back to me asking when I would have time to go over what was in the email. I replied saying, “Hi Deborah, It is my wish to move forward with you in the most amicable way possible and to avoid misunderstandings/misinterpretations in the future. To put the odds in our favor of achieving this, it would be helpful to me to have something written from you regarding the charges listed 1-3 in email below.” She then texted me, “Noelle, I am trying to work a few things out with you before we put this in writing. I can't move forward without having a conversation.” Which struck me as her being a royal pain in the ass but whatever. I called her, and I  just let her rant without bothering to explain my side this time. Then she asked me if I understood where she was coming from, and I just said yes, but that I still needed to know if she could provide the services I asked about in the email, and if so, what the price was, because I needed to know what my bill at the end of the month was going to be. I also mentioned as politely as I possibly could that if not, I would have to move the horses, not because I’m mad at her but because I simply just need those services at a reasonable price. 

She then started crying, apologizing, and saying that she, “didn't mean to say one thing then do another, times are just hard right now, and $20 per wrap just isn’t enough.” I’m not so sure since I’m providing all the materials, not her, and $20 for a half an hour is still more than the minimum wage per hour in this area. But instead of saying that, I just told her, “Well please send me the prices in an email. If he has another bad abscess and needs daily care, more than $20 per half hour is likely more than I can afford right now, but maybe I can mitigate the costs if you let me lease Amba out.” Miraculously, she agreed to this, and finally sent me the prices. I now have it in writing that she will charge $30, and not “quite possibly more,” in addition to letting me lease Amba out, so progress. I also appreciate the fact that this time she said she was charging me more out of necessity, and not because it was all in my head that she originally said everything was included in the board this summer, and that basic medical care was a service she could provide. And also that she didn’t try to claim again that wrapping his hoof takes an hour.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x Reader) Part 5

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Work Count: 6.3K 

You were angry. Of course Levi had to go and stir the pot right before the holiday season. The time of year when he spent the most of his hours at your home. Even though he spent most of his time at your house throughout the whole year, this amount of time typically doubled through the months of October through December. The remaining weeks in October were the worst. You both expertly avoided one another, Petra and Levi continued to see each other exclusively. This turned out to be bittersweet for you, the pros were that Levi was busy trying to please Petra to spend too much time at your house. But also it stung to see him with her, even though you had no right to feel jealous.

The two weeks after your kiss, you spent holed up in your room, your phone set on do not disturb. After binging Gossip Girls and all of the classic Disney movies, you finally decided that instead of focusing on romance, you would devote yourself to school. Thankfully you weren't the only person that favored school over social gatherings, you found yourself spending countless hours in the school's musty library with Armin. He was so easy to get along with, down to earth, kind, and most importantly, he was too shy to ask you about anything too personal. Today was one of those days, it was nearing the end of November, the trees had shed their leaves, bearing the naked bark. And the weather was constantly changing. Some days it would snow, others it would pour rain, but that was just the midwest for you. Glancing up from the textbook that had held your attention for the past two hours, your were pleased to see a flurry of fat snowflakes spiraling downwards. The window had frost creeping up from the corners, thank God, maybe the weather would finally settle and allow the snow to stick for once. You could feel Armin staring at you, his eyes piercing the back of your skull. a feeling you had become familiar with. Turning back to face him, he averted his eyes, a comforting pink creeping onto his cheeks with the embarrassment of being caught.

"It's really coming down huh?" you tried to initiate some light small talk.

"Yeah! Hopefully it will stick." Armin responded, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips as he returned his attention back to his homework. You hummed, glancing back down at the yellowing pages of the old history textbook, a frown marring your features.

"What's wrong? Need some help?" Armin asked, standing up from his seat and coming to stand behind you.

"Oh, well I guess I'm just confused about this law." you pulled the response from your ass. Of course you understood Roe v. Wade, you just didn't want to tell Armin that you were ready to leave. He always made this face that reminded you of a puppy that just got drop kicked.

"Roe v. Wade huh? I can help you with that no problem!" his baby blue eyes lit up, he pulled the nearest chair up to the table, the legs loudly scratching against the rickety library floors.

"Great, thanks!" you tried to sound excited, and you tried even harder to focus on Armin's summary of Roe v. Wade.

"Easy right?" Armin chirped, his finger hovering over the paragraph that explained the law.

"You're right, I think that I just need a break. My brain feels fried." you moaned, folding your arms across the desk and burying your head in your arms.

"Likewise." Armin agreed, dragging his chair closer to yours not very subtly.

"Want to go grab a coffee?" you asked, barely lifting your head to glance at him.

"Sure." he beamed, his innocent face completely lighting up. Your library had a small coffee shop nestled in the back, the cafe was run by students who had free periods. Granted the coffee wasn't the best, but it still did the job. You thanked the girl behind the counter as she passed you your steaming cup of dark liquid. Armin was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for his order, you busied yourself with mixing in sugar and some creamer. Finally the barista gave Armin his latte and the two of you meandered back to your corner. You slowly began packing your things, hoping that Armin would get the hint and you would be able to escape the stuffy library. Armin noticed, you closed the book with a sigh and began stuffing pens and other writing utensils into your small pencil case.

"Ready to call it a day?" Armin asked his lips hovering over the steaming hot coffee.

"Yeah, I told Hange that I would be ready to leave by the time she finished with Science Olympiad." you sighed, gathering the assortment of books that you had pulled from the shelves getting up to return them to their rightful places.

"Oh gotcha, same time Thursday?" He asked hopefully, his light blue eyes meeting yours. You clicked your tongue and grimaced, shooting him an apologetic look.

"Ah I would but my mom has Thursday off so I was going to have dinner with her." you explained, watching Armin get that kicked puppy look, that look always had a way of making your heart hurt.

"Aw well have fun!" he waved you off, the sad look on his face replaced with a small forced smile.

"Thanks Armin, I'll see you in Chem tomorrow." you smiled sweetly at him as you turned to leave.

"Bye!" he waved goodbye to you as you pulled the large door open and slipped out. Sparing a glance at your watch you sighed, Hange should be done in the next 5 minutes. But knowing her she would take another 20 minutes to wrap up her Science Olympiad meeting. So you leisurely strolled down the empty stone corridor, your eyes trained on the large windows that lined the hallway and overlooked the courtyard. The library was on the second floor, which gave you a perfect view of the school grounds. The snow seemed to be falling faster now, the flakes were beginning to stick to the blades of grass, giving the lawn a patchy appearance. Hopefully Hange had remembered her snow scraper, surely the car would have a coating of frost on the windows by now. It would not be the first time that the two of you had to scrape ice from her windows using your credit cards or your school ids.

You turned your attention back to the stony corridor, you had almost reached the stairs. You began your descent, a hand loosely gliding down the cold stone banister. Your mind drifted to thoughts of what Erwin's plans were for this evening, did he plan to eat dinner with you? Or would he run off with Hange as he had been doing for the past week or so? You had noticed that the pair had been spending more time alone as of late, and you couldn't blame them. Erwin was already committed to Notre Dame, a prestigious school known for football and extraordinary academics. Hange had recently been accepted into Princeton, one of the eight ivy league schools, and she was ecstatic. This however means that they will attending schools in different states. You knew that they planned to continue dating despite the distance, personally you were a tad skeptical of long distance relationships, but you knew that they were both mature enough to continue seeing each other.

You paused on the landing between floors, the sound of laughter was echoing off the stoney walls.

"That was a dirty move Kirstein!" you recognized Eren's agitated voice, which was closely followed by the hearty laughter of Conny and Marco.

"Pay closer attention next time Jeager." Jean teased, a smile spread across your lips at the sound of your friends. Their presence motivated you to jog down the remaining stairs and turn the corner. Just at you poked your head around the corner your eyes landed on the group of boys walking towards you.

"Oi (Y/n)! Where's Armin?" Eren called out to you first and you waved.

"Still in the library." you jabbed your thumb back towards the stairs behind you.

"Classic." Conny sniggered as he adjusted his duffle bag on his shoulder. You pursed your lips as you took in their uniforms. They wore soccer jerseys and shorts, a matching set of forest green, the school crest, a pair of wings one blue and one white, rested above their left breast over their hearts.

"Indoor soccer?" you asked, nodding towards the ball tucked under Marco's arm. The boy nodded and tossed you the ball.

"Season just started." he stated proudly, you easily caught the ball and smiled at him. Marco was your age, but you didn't usually spend time with him outside of school. The two of you had grown close the year prior when you had been in the same gym class, but since then you hadn't spoken very much.

"How exciting." you murmured as you gripped the ball in your hands. The boys nodded and you tossed the ball back to Marco.

"What are you doing here so late?" Jean asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Studying for the Government test with Armin." you shrugged, tucking your hands in your pockets. Things had been tense in your friend group since you and Jean had began casually seeing one another. The two of you had gone out on a handful of dates over the past month, all of them enjoyable. But you knew you didn't want a full blown relationship, something you still needed to tell Jean.

"Ah gotcha. So will you be coming to Sasha's friendsgiving party this weekend?" Jean inquired, his eyes shined with a glint of hope.

"Oh, I almost forgot about that! Yeah I'll be there." you smiled, a rush of excitement running through you when you remembered the invitation you had received earlier this week.

"What are you bringing?" Conny butted in, licking his lips. You hummed thoughtfully, what would you bring?

"Maybe macaroni and cheese? Or a pie?" You thought aloud as you lifted a hand to cup your chin. Conny groaned and grabbed your shoulder.

"Pie, please for the love of God bring your pie." he begged, his hand squeezing your shoulder. You giggled at this eagerness, and nodded. Pies were easy enough to bake, and if that's what people wanted then you would be more than happy to deliver.

"Thank you thank you thank you-" Conny shook you as he thanked you profusely, Eren snarled and tugged the two of you apart, while Marco and Jean laughed.

"Knock it off baldy." he hissed as he tossed Conny back. You chuckled and waved your hands dismissively.

"I'd better go, Hange should be done soon." you sighed, your eyes straying to the nearest window, you gasped. The snow was coming down in thick swirls, the sun had dipped below the horizon, making it difficult to see much through the snow.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of snow!" Marco exclaimed as he turned to follow your gaze. Jean let out a low whistle, Conny squealed excitedly.

"Yeah I better get going." you called over your shoulder as you made a break for the west wing, which was where the senior parking lot was located. The halls were dark, you only crossed paths with one janitor who didn't even glance up at you. You paused at the door at the end of the hallway and squinted out into the blizzard. The parking lot was dark, a clear indicator that Hange had not arrived to warm up the car before you.

"Ah there you are, perfect timing!" Hange's booming voice startled you as it echoed through the empty hall.

"Oh Hange, thank God, please tell me you have your scraper." you fretted, Hange grimaced, giving you an apologetic smile.

"Yeah about that..." she muttered, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. You groaned and reached into your backpack for your wallet. You fished out your drivers license and your credit card and turned back to the snowy parking lot.

"Better get started then." you grumbled, Hange laughed anxiously and moved to open the door for the both of you.

"Right."

___

You flexed your raw fingers by the vents as they blasted hot air into the cabin of the car. Hange was rubbing her hands together furiously and blowing hot air on her own frigid fingers.

"For the love of God, just keep the scraper in the car year round." you moaned as you slid your id back into your wallet.

"Might be a good idea actually." Hange stuttered between the chattering of her teeth. You huffed, tucking your hands underneath your thighs in an attempt to regain the feeling in your hands. Hange shifted the gear to drive and slowly pulled the car out of the parking lot, the wipers squeaking against the glass as they swiped the relentless snow off of the windshield.

"So, what do you want for dinner kiddo?" she gushed, her coppery eyes glinting mischievously.

"I dunno, something hot." you jabbed back, shifting on your hands.

"Whole gangs going to be there!" Hange prodded, clearly attempting to get a reaction from you.

"Great, who's cooking?" you taunted, shooting her a smile to show that you meant well.

"Oh well I guess Nanaba could." Hange mused, pleased with your good natured jabs.

"Great I'm starving." you leaned back and closed your eyes. Hange chuckled and turned her eyes back to the dark road ahead.

The drive took longer than usual due to the heavy snowfall. The roads were slick with the fresh snow, which stuck stubbornly to the road due to the lack of traffic on the country roads. But you made it to your house without a hitch. Erwin's minivan was already covered in a layer of snow, and Levi's BMW was untouched, Mike and Nanaba had not yet arrived. Hange parked and the two of you quickly gathered your belongings and walked briskly to the front door. You kicked your feet on the mat before entering, the foyer already a bit wet due to snow being tracked in on shoes. You peeled off your shoes with Hange and carried your things upstairs, Hange following close behind. Hange slipped into Erwin's room while you dropped your bag in your own room. You hadn't seen your brother or his short friend yet which was odd, they usually hung out in the kitchen. You met Hange back in the hall, her glasses, which had fogged up when you had entered the house were perched atop of her auburn hair.

"Where are they?" you asked bluntly as you watched her scrub the spectacles with the hem of her sweater.

"Beats me, let's go make some soup or something." Hange shrugged, holding her glasses up to the light to inspect the lenses. So you jogged down the stairs and began pawing through the pantry through the abundance of canned goods. You frowned at the cream of mushroom soup and set it back into the pile before refocusing.

"Heyyy now we're talking!" Hange crooned, you turned to see her pulling out a frozen pizza from the depths of your freezer. You scoffed before turning back to the pantry, a frown settling on your features.

"How about tomato soup and grilled cheese?" you offered as you pulled out two cans of tomato soup and a loaf of bread. Hange shrugged and tossed the pizza back into the freezer, she then opened the fridge and pulled out an assortment of cheese. The two of you fell into your effortless rhythm Hange stirred the soup while you began to cook the sandwiches. Finally the front door banged open, Levi's combat boots squeaking as he walked into the house, he haphazardly kicked off the shoes and stalked into the kitchen and straight into the living room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you watched him walk through the house, his arms full with kindling. Erwin followed closely behind, his arms also full of firewood. So that's where the pair had been. Hange fawned over them, greeting Erwin by dusting off bits of bark from his coat before turning to pat Levi's head. Levi swatted her sticky hands off of his head and glared at her menacingly.

"Hands off four eyes." Levi hissed, he ducked expertly underneath her arm and fled to the kitchen where you were flipping a grilled cheese. Erwin and Hange began the chore of lighting the fire while you took on the task of cooking as per usual. Levi frowned at the sight of the damp foyer and turned on his heel to grab the mop. You smiled at the sight of him mopping the floor despite the fact that people were still on their way and it would only end up messy again. Sure enough, just as Levi tossed the dirty water out of the front door and tucked the mop back in the closet, Mike and Nanaba strutted in, arms full of assorted baked goods and board games.

"Hey everybody! Hope we didn't miss anything!" Nanaba trilled as she tracked more snow into the front room. Levi heaved a sigh as he turned to grab the mop, you chuckled and took the container of cookies from her arms so she could take off her jacket. Mike nodded at you as he strolled into the living room where Hange and Erwin were still fumbling to light the fire wood.

"No, we actually only just got home about thirty minutes ago." you assured the blonde as she joined you in the kitchen. She smiled as she watched Mike kneel down to join Erwin and Hange as they blew on the small embers.

"What games did you guys bring?" you attempted to make small talk as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Oh the usuals, Sequence, Candy Land, Clue, etcetera." she waved a hand dismissively as she turned to stir the soup.

"Sounds fun!" you exclaimed as you tossed another sandwich on the plate. Nanaba hummed in response as she smiled stupidly into the soup. You pursed your lips and cocked your head as you studied her.

"Not to be that person but...Have you picked a school yet?" you asked with a small chuckle. She nodded,

"Yeah actually, just picked two days ago!" she beamed, turning to face you once more.

"Wow really?"

"Yeah! I'm going to attend Michigan State University with Mike!" she gushed as she set the spoon off to the side with a clang.

"That's great! Michigan is beautiful, and that's an awesome school." you matched her excitement and dumped the final sandwich on the plate and switched the stove off.

"Thanks! We're super excited." her words were so sweet and filled with love it made you feel sick. You nodded and turned to grab plates and bowls for everyone. Nanaba and Mike had only started dating about a month prior, in fact they had admitted their affections to one another back in October at your house. In a way you envied their effortless relationship, despite only dating for a month they made a great pair.  You served yourself and moved to sit at the island in the kitchen. A cheer from the living room told you that the trio had finally ignited the fire, shortly after they piled into the kitchen and began to dish food onto their plates. Levi once again stuffed the mop and bucket back into the closet and feverishly washed his hands before serving himself. As he reached for a grilled cheese the sleeve of his hoodie scrunched up, revealing a new tattoo on his left wrist. Your jaw dropped momentarily, the sight of the fresh ink shocking you. In fact it was so fresh that the skin around the ink was still red and a bit swollen, glistening with the salve. He rounded the island and dropped into the stool to your left, and your eyes went straight to his wrist.

"Fresh ink?" you asked, propping your chin on the heel of your hand as you watched him bring the spoon to his mouth.  

"Yeah." he replied, not bothering to elaborate.

"Can I see?" you pressed, Levi shot you a glare as he bit into his sandwich but still lifted his hand for you to pull his sleeve up. You gingerly tugged his sleeve up and a tiny 'awe' escaped your lips. The drawing was extremely minimalistic, the delicate black ink contrasting beautifully with his pale skin tone. It was a small tea cup, with a chip in its rim. Levi scoffed and tugged his arm back.

"That's a good one Levi." you gushed as you turned back to your own meal.

"Thanks." he grumbled as he looked everywhere but your face.

"Where do you get them done?" you asked before taking a huge bite of your sandwich.

"WitchHammer." he grunted, his patience growing thin. All of these questions reminded him of a particular brunette. You hummed in response as you entertained the idea of getting a tattoo for your 16th birthday that was coming up in the next couple of months. You already had an appointment at the shop to get your forward helix pierced on your left ear. The others were getting rowdy on the other side of the island, too engrossed in their conversation to notice the side conversation Levi and you were engaging in.

"Did it hurt?" you quizzed feeling a bit playful. You had missed Levi's bluntness and his shitty sense of humor.

"I would be lying if I said no." he retorted, his sharp eyes catching yours for the first time in weeks. You chuckled and nodded as you chewed your food.

"You think that I would look good with a couple tattoos?" you giggled, smiling broadly at the raven haired boy. He clicked his tongue and turned to take you in, his eyes raking over your form. Finally his eyes settled on your hands, his brows pinched together in thought as he stared.

"Personally...I like minimalistic designs, you could probably pull off some finger tats or hand tats." he mused, you glanced at your hands, interesting. You held your hands up to the light to get a better look and began to think of some small designs that you might be interested in.

"Tattoos are a big commitment, don't just get some stupid shit." Levi lectured as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, you frowned he was one to talk.

"I know." you decided that tonight wasn't the time to argue with him, especially since this was the first time spending time together in weeks. He nodded but kept a skeptical eye on you as you folded your hands onto your lap and turned to listen to the other conversation. You frowned when you realized they were just talking about prom, awkward. So you decided to clean up, the exhaustion of the long day seemed to hit you like a truck and all you could think about was your bed and all of the work that was due on Sunday. You washed up quickly and waved weakly before trudging up the stairs, thankfully the others didn't seem to care that you were calling it a night early. You changed into a pair of flannel pjs and an old ACDC shirt that had seen better days. You sank into your old desk chair and flicked on the small lamp, you rummaged through your back pack and pulled out your laptop and a notebook. Sparing a glance at the small alarm clock you groaned, it was already well past nine o'clock.

You decided to pick up from where you had left off with your Government notes. Your handwriting started off neat, the ink gliding flawlessly across the lined paper. But by the time you had finished the notes and moved on to your chemistry homework, your handwriting had become rocky at best. You frowned at the smudged ink, the green hue bleeding into the once white paper. With a sigh you reached for your white out and continued to write out the reaction. Once you were finished with Chem, you turned your attention to your research paper for English. As you typed you could feel your eyelids drooping, the words seemed to blur and bend across the computer screen. Closing your eyes for a moment wouldn't hurt would it? A defeated sigh breezed past your lips as you folded your arms across the desk and rested your forehead against your arms to block out the blinding light of your lamp. You yawned and rubbed your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up, though this seemed to be unsuccessful. As you slipped into sleep, you recalled the last time you had fallen asleep at your desk and how fucked up your back felt the following week. But your exhaustion won and your head slumped against your desk, any pain you felt would be a problem for future you.

Meanwhile, downstairs the upperclassman were well into their third bottle of wine and their fifth round of Candy Land. Erwin flicked the spinner and moved his piece accordingly, Levi sat back and sipped the dry red wine, Mike had his hand thrown over Nanaba's shoulders casually. Hange was leaning her head heavily against Erwin's shoulder and Levi swore he had never felt like such a loser in his whole life. If you were down here at least he wouldn't be the only person down here that was single. Hange howled as Erwin pushed his piece past hers, always the sore looser. Nanaba giggled drunkenly as she choked on her glass of wine. Levi rolled his eyes, his friends were past tipsy now, but not quite drunk, and this was usually when Levi would leave. He hated dealing with drunk people, they were messy and loud, the mere thought of any of them vomiting made him cringe. He waited until the spinner came around to him before he excused himself.

"Count me out." he held up his hand to deny the spinner as Mike tried to hand it to him.

"Awe come on Levi! We can't let Erwin win for the fifth time in a row!" Mike begged as Levi stood up and picked up his glass of wine.

"No." Levi denied, his voice growing colder. The group collectively called for him to stay, their voices a bit unsteady due to the alcohol. Levi shrugged them off and carefully stepped over Hange, she snagged his ankle and held him in a vice grip.

"No, don't go Levi! Finish this game please!" she whimpered as she pressed her face into his calf. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sudden contact, Erwin chuckled and pulled Hange back and pressed a kiss to her temple. Yeah it was definitely time for him to go to bed, besides he needed to put some vaseline on his fresh ink. He slid into the upstairs bathroom, the sound of his friends laughing fading into the background. Tugging up his sleeve his hissed at the feeling of the raw skin coming in contact with the cold air. He pawed through the drawers, pausing at the sight of your feminine hygiene products. He usually used the downstairs restroom since the guest room was in the basement. He slammed the drawer shut and moved onto the next one, a relieved sigh escaping his lips at the sight of the familiar jar of vaseline. He swiped the jelly onto his tiny tea cup tattoo and rolled his sleeve back down, the soothing jelly immediately calming the irritated skin.

On his way out of the bathroom he noticed the small sliver of light that shined through your cracked door. He glanced down at his wrist watch and frowned, it was one thirty in the morning, you had supposedly gone to bed hours ago. He glanced down the stairs, from the bathroom he could see the open floor layout of the living room, where all of his friends were still gathered. He steeled himself and padded up to your door, he lifted his hand and rapped the backs of his knuckles against the surface. He frowned when there was no response, he gently pushed the door open and tentatively stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only light emitting from the small lamp on your desk. His eyes softened at the sight of you slumped onto your desk, but quickly hardened at the sight of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. He sat his wine glass down as quietly as he could on your nightstand and raked his eyes around your cluttered room in search for a blanket. He spotted a quilt neatly folded on your window seat, he unfolded the blanket and draped it over your shoulders. Just as the blanket was settling on your shoulders and he was pulling his hands back, the door flew open. He jumped, spinning around only to be met with the sight of an unsteady Hange. The brunette's eyes widened at the sight of Levi's hand on the back of your seat.

"What..." her eyes narrowed and she pointed between the two of you.

"Is this?" she finished as she stepped into the room, her body swaying unsteadily. Good question, what was he doing in here?

"I came to shut off her light." Levi lied through his teeth, the truth was that he had wanted to spend more time in your presence.

"Lies." Hange hissed as she pointed accusingly at him.

"Tch, believe what you want four eyes." Levi grunted as he stalked across the room, meaning to make a quick get away before she drew too much attention to this fishy situation.

"Hey don't-" she lunged in an attempt to keep Levi from escaping, spilling her glass of wine onto the white carpet and onto Levi's crisp white hoodie. She caught herself on Levi, a drunk giggle bubbling past her lips as she clung to him. Levi staggered under her weight, his back hitting your wall with a dull thud. You grunted, slowly lifting your head from the desk you turned around to see Levi seething under Hange's weight as she pressed against him. Your eyes widened at the sight, Levi was trying to grab the glass from her hand to prevent further spillage, you were so distracted by the rare sight of Levi and Hange in such close proximity that you didn't notice the quilt falling off your shoulders. You blinked dumbly at the two of them as they grappled for the wine glass, Levi ultimately winning due to Hange's drunken state.

"Levi was peeping on you while you slept." Hange blurted, Levi slammed his hand over her mouth and snarled. You weren't surprised when Levis pulled his hand back with a small gasp, you could just make out the sheen of what you assumed was Hange's drool over his palm. The brunette cackled and staggered away from him and out of the room.

"I'm going to tell Erwin." she sang as she stumbled through the hall with her hand on the wall to guide her.

"Hange don't, it's okay really." you called after her, but your words fell on deaf ears as she rounded the stairs and disappeared.

"Damn it." Levi hissed, his eyes trained on the stain on the ground, he pulled the sweat shirt off of his skin, the alcohol sticking to his skin. You cleared your throat awkwardly as Levi pulled the sweatshirt off. You glanced at the stairs, no sign of Hange and Erwin yet, you could hear the sound of the group stumbling around the kitchen. Hopefully Hange had forgotten and favored grabbing another drink over causing trouble, so you stood up and crossed your room to quietly shut the door. Levi had his head against the wall, his eyes closed expecting an onslaught of accusations. Instead he was surprised to see you digging through your closet, pulling out one of your larger sweatshirts you tossed it to him. He caught the garment and eyed is suspiciously before tugging it over his head.

"Thanks." he mumbled, you waved him off and crossed your room to sit down on your bed.

"What's up?" you questioned, it was certainly out of character for him to be in your room. Levi shrugged and slowly crossed the room to drop down onto your bed next to you.

"Your light was on and I came in to shut it off." Levi replied nonchalantly, his eyes dull as he watched you slip under your covers. A chill ran up your spine, your room always got cold in the winter due to the large windows. After a moment of awkward silence you patted the space beside you, Levi quirked a brow at you but when you smiled at him he slid closer to you. He settled against the headboard with a sigh, you looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He turned and raised a brow skeptically at you, you giggled and turned to slip deeper under your covers. He scoffed but turned to face you, propping himself up on his elbow. From this close proximity you could smell the wine on his breath, you noticed that his  pupils were dilated, and his cheeks flushed.

"Thanks...I guess." you muttered as you watched him reach into his pockets and pull out his juul and take a hit. You frowned as he turned his head away from you to exhale, he sighed contentedly and turned to face you once more.

"You're going to get me in trouble." you scoffed as he attempted to offer you the juul.

"You only live once." he smirked as he dangled the device in your face. You gently pushed his hand away from your face, he shrugged and took another drag.

"Are you sleeping over?" you questioned, he simply nodded and pocketed his juul.

"It's like three in the morning." he scoffed rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, I guess..." you trailed off, the house had grown quiet, hopefully Hange had been dragged to bed by Erwin and had long forgotten about snitching on Levi. You weren't sure what Levi was still doing in your bed, you knew that he wouldn't force himself on you, but still he had never spend this much time alone with you since the time you had kissed. Just as you were about to ask him why he was still in your room, you heard the sound of the front door opening and then quickly closing. Your mother was home, you shoved Levi's shoulder and motioned for him to get out of your bed, a surge of panic rushing through you. Your mom would kill you if she saw Levi in your bed this late. Levi grunted and rolled off the bed, landing heavily on the ground with a thud. You winced and pointed at the door, Levi opened his mouth to say something but ultimately turned and stalked towards the door. When he opened the door, he was met with the tired face of your mother. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of Levi.

"Oh, Levi.." she managed to keep her voice even as she took in his appearance, his hair a bit mussed, cheeks pink and wearing your clothes.

"It's not what it looks like mom!" you scrambled out of bed and pushed Levi away from the doorway so that you could address your mother.

"Really..." she narrowed her eyes skeptically as her eyes roamed over your pajamas and messy hair. You grimaced but nodded, she glared at you and heaved a heavy sigh, turning her attention to Levi.

"So your uncle told me that you wouldn't be coming to Christmas this year?" she swiftly changed the subject. Levi blinked, shocked that she had chosen to ignore the suspicious state she had found the two of you in.

"Y-Yeah that's true, I finally saved enough to visit my old friends in France for the holidays." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Is that so?" she hummed, leaning against the door frame and tugging her light jacket closer to her body. Levi nodded and spared you a glance, you looked surprised, but not upset.

"Well that sounds amazing, you'll have to send us a postcard." she mused, Levi nodded and shifted awkwardly.

"Yes ma'm." he responded, your mother nodded pleased with his response.

"How long will you be gone for?" she probed.

"Until January 8th." Levi answered.

"That's a long time." you quipped, Levi glanced at you and nodded.

"How exciting." your mother's response was genuine, she stepped aside allowing him to pass.

"Yeah." he muttered as he slid past and made his way towards the stairs. Once he was out of sight your mother turned to you, her usually soft features pinching into a scowl.

"Explain." she snapped, pointing a finger at the sizable wine stain.

"Hange spilled it, I'll clean it in the morning." you sighed as you eyed the large purple spot.

"Alright, just make sure that it gets cleaned." your mother leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled at her, it was unusual that you got to see her after her shift.

"How was work?" you asked as you eyed her scrubs, noting a mystery stain on her shirt.

"Messy." she sighed as she followed your gaze.

"Did you save lots of lives?" you giggled.

"Of course." your mother jabbed.

"Get some sleep (Y/n)." she hummed, her hand burying into your messy hair to ruffle it affectionately.

"Goodnight mom." you called after her as she descended the staircase, she waved her hand and you slowly shut the door.

#levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi x you #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #snk fanfiction #levi fanfiction #eren mikasa armin #armin arlert #eren jeager #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #mike zacharias #nanaba #petra ral #modern au #high school au #college #college au

[crackinwise]

Mondo having a thing about coating Taka with hickeys and Taka having a thing about very much enjoying the process is a good headcanon I've seen used several times, in both fic and art.

I see it causing an issue for them at least once.

Kiyotaka has the syllabus and upcoming events memorized before he and Mondo have a "session" so he won't be caught broadcasting his love life unwelcomed. Besides, he always fears he'll be accused of being hedonistic and immoral just for using some free time to feel wanted by the man he loves.

Meanwhile, Mondo knows to keep it below the uniform collar, but that's a lot of fair game there. After one night where they get carried away, Taka's torso from the base of the neck down looks like a leopard. Taka looks like he lost a fight with an octopus. But it's fine because a)Taka wanted it, and b)he can still look presentable in public with them covered.

But, the next day at gym, the class is told the schedule had to be rearranged and everyone is to head up to the pool. Taka instantly panics.

As everyone starts walking, he grabs Mondo's arm and pulls him to the back of the group.

"Mondo," he hisses, "I can't go to the pool!"

"Why?"

Taka fully despairs for a brief second. "If I take off my uniform, everyone will see the marks you've made!"

The caveman part of Mondo's brain makes his chest want to swell with a mixture of pride and possession, but it plummets down to become a lead ball in his stomach the instant he notices the unshed tears and fear in Taka's large eyes.

"It's okay. S'okay, I'll figure somethin out. Let's just get goin," Mondo promises him.

He can't let Taka feel humiliated. He mostly trusts his classmates by now--Taka would never have another middle school experience--but this wasn't a couple hickeys to get teased over and laugh off. Their peers' first reaction might be to get Taka a bodyguard and Mondo a muzzle. The teacher might investigate; Taka's dad might be called. Mondo shakes away the mental image of a mortified Taka and tries to actually problem solve.

He couldn't picture Taka sitting the period out on the bleachers and risk being a bad class leader. Taka could lie about feeling sick or needing somewhere else to be to work on his Talent, but he wouldn't. Taka wouldn't forgive him for pulling the fire alarm either. He didn't know of any clubs Taka could help at this hour. Would anything at the pool hide him when they got there?

Mondo's head snaps up with an idea and he walks faster to catch up with the classmate who made swimming pools her domain. "Asahina!"

Hina stops hopping around excitedly next to Sakura and turns to address him. "Mondo? What's up?"

He starts to whisper while also glaring at any classmates daring to curiously rubberneck. "I need a favor. Do ya have one of them, like, swim shirts? Y'know, surfers and shit wear 'em?"

"A rash guard?"

"Sure."

Hina frowns, apologetic. "No, I never thought to bring one here since the pool is indoors." She gives him a once-over. "And I'm not sure we'd be the same size."

"It's not...for me." Mondo rubs the back of his neck anxiously. He makes sure to keep his voice low. "It's for Taka."

"Since when does Ishimaru prefer a rash guard while swimming?" Kyoko asks, suddenly appearing on Mondo's other side, startling him.

"Holy fuck! Who who asked you?!" he yelps.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she helpfully warns them. "Here, let's walk to the side a bit."

The three step to the outside of the pack of students to continue talking a bit more covertly.

"Now, Oowada, what's this about?" Kyoko asks, eyes sharp.

Yeah!" Hina loudly whispers back. "Is Taka all right? Him asking for cover is concerning, ya know!"

Mondo's defensive annoyance threatens to flare up. "He's fine, but he can't go in the pool today. I can't tell ya why, so don't ask."

Maybe if another teacher needed help, but Mondo didn't know of any and unless one walked down the hall, he couldn't beg them. Or the headmaster!

"Oi!" Mondo's outburst causes Hina to jump. He lowers his voice once again, "Kirigiri! I need ya to ask yer dad if he has anythin he can call for Taka to work on. Like, now, for the whole period."

Kyoko's cool eyes narrow at him. He knows she's still trying to suss out his motives.

"If it were just for you, I'd demand more of an explanation, but this is for Ishimaru, right?" Even as she asks, she has her phone out, texting the headmaster. Mondo catches a glimpse of her text starting with "URGENT" and feels a wave of appreciation.

Finished, she looks from her phone back to Taka, still uncharacteristically silent and walking yards behind everyone else. She notes how he's hugging himself and darting his unfocused eyes around.

"Hmm." Her hand is up to her chin in thought. "Well, all we can do is wait for my father to answer me or make an announcement on his own. I could always just lie and say my father requested him."

"Y'know damn well he'd hate that and give us both detention when he found out," Mondo gripes. He understands why Taka refuses a little dishonest help, but it's still frustrating as hell sometimes.

"Yes," she agrees, her voice was as level and confident as always, "but that depends on how much he'd rather be tricked than show off your love bites."

"Right? Damn."

Hina, still close by and listening, covered her mouth to muffle a giggle.

Then Mondo's steps faltered. "HEY!"

His shout echoed around the hall, causing a few students to eyeball them. Makoto was clutching his chest, about ready to imitate a fainting goat.

Kyoko didn't so much as blink though. "It's as if you forget who I am. But don't worry, I'll take all the blame for lying to Ishimaru if it comes to that."

"Thanks," Mondo sighs out. "If you two didn't help, I was gonna pay Hiro to predict a pool disaster big enough to stall."

That causes Hina and Kyoko to realize the severity of the situation might be more than simple awkwardness.

"You know Hiro would try to charge you, like, hundreds of dollars for that," Hina says, worried. "Maybe thousands. Is Taka really that embarrassed by a hickey?"

Mondo swallows thickly but doesn't answer. He feels incredibly guilty. He feels like a danger to Taka's reputation for a new reason than the usual ones that sometimes haunt him. He knows hormones and his lack of self-control are a bad mix, but add in Taka enthusiastically praising his mouth, and he has zero hope of restraint.

They arrive at the changing rooms for everyone to switch into their swimsuits before going to the pool. The other students file inside while Mondo, Hina, Kyoko, and the trailing Taka hang back.

When Taka stops in front of them, his wide eyes finally focus on Mondo. He glances at the girls then says, hopefully, "Any, um, ideas?"

Mondo worries Taka is going to have a panic attack with the way he's breathing and clutching his blazer closed. As if the marks were magically visible through his uniform shirt too.

Kyoko brings her phone screen up to her face to check for a reply, then shakes her head at Mondo. Hina wrings her hands.

Deciding he's just going to kidnap Taka for the rest of the day and risk his boyfriend never speaking to him again, Mondo starts to grab Taka's arm.

The P.A. system squeaks on. "ISHIMARU, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE, PLEASE!"

All four friends sag with relief. Hina does a little cheer, gives them a thumbs up and skips into the girl's changing room. Kyoko nods at Mondo's thankful expression and follows her inside.

Taka runs his fingers thru his hair, laughs bubbling out of him. He has no idea what had happened to save him, but he wasn't going to question it just now. He squeezes Mondo's wrist once with his left hand and smiles to convey he was never upset with his partner about the situation. Then he proceeds to speed-walk to the office.

Mondo's frayed nerves want him to break the rules and embrace Taka, but his impulsive actions have caused enough problems today. He turns to go get changed for the pool, his caveman pride starting to return after helping to protect his Kiyotaka.

Following this, Taka didn't let them have another "session" for a month, and when he did he made contingency plans to be nowhere near the pool for a full week.

#this was originally a two-sentence post wut am i doing #ishimondo #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo oowada #probably would have been funnier presenting the premise and leaving it to your imaginations my bad #danganronpa

[deepdonutkid]

Gambling man

Warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking, dirty talk (starting soft here)

A/N: This is the first chapter of my newest series: Do you wanna touch ! There is also the summary of the story and the masterlist and the warning for the story as a whole. Have fun reading it and I hope you leave some love here!

There were no words to describe how annoyed he was. Why should he do something for Tommy after the regular work in the betting shop? John was tired and this was an understatement. He was nearly constantly yawning, rubbing his eyes and his head was aching. The kids kept him up all night. One wet the bed. This woke up the others. They wouldn’t go back to sleep that easily, of course and John was already half-dead when he arrived at work. And now he had to go to a swanky bar called “The mockingbird” to pick something up for this brother.

He didn’t even know what it was, but apparently it was expensive. Tommy was god-knows-where and John was sick of being his clown. It was always the same. ‘John do this’ or ‘John do that’ and he couldn’t escape it. Of course he tried, like a million times already. It has been like this since they were kids and even nowadays he couldn’t say no to his family.

After all, family was the most important thing in his life, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t complain while doing the dirty work again. At least he didn’t have to care about his kids for the rest of the night. Polly was watching them. He agreed with Tommy about that. It was his only condition. When the job was said and done, he wanted a good night sleep. John couldn’t remember his last peaceful night, maybe before the war or even before his wedding. He was still a child back then, but he doesn’t really miss this part of his life.

Back then they were poor kids with some knives, robbing some fellows to get some coins. When he was hungry he had to steal, because begging never has been his thing. Looking back wasn’t glorious. It was just sad and nothing more. Now he has the money for food, but nobody will cook for him. Martha died during the war, so when he finally came home, broken and shattered; he was all alone with no one to comfort him. Well, he had the kids, but they behaved just as bad as waifs and strays. They still did. Always jumping around, asking way too many questions, destroying everything that comes to their hands and John just needed a break.

Just one night, was all he was asking for.

But first he had to do his job. Then he could think of all the ways he could spend his free time. So he walked to the pub and grumbled. How fucking garish it looked! Everything was so nice and expensive and everyone acted like they were about humans. John gave a sniff about these posh fuckers. The look in his eyes was dismissive as he entered this fancy place.

Indoors it smelled like wine and cigars. Not bad, he thought as he glanced around. The place was light and warm and full of laughter. Golden ornaments everywhere, he noticed and shook his head about it. This was nothing he cared about. They wouldn’t even serve beer here.

John walked to the bar and ordered a whiskey, Irish of course. Then he waited at the counter, like Tommy had explained to him. A man would walk up to him and asking him how the weather was outside and regardless of the cloud free sky that night, John should answer: “It’s fookin pouring.” What a bloody drama was this anyway? Why he couldn’t pick up the package like a normal person? But with Tommy and his secret plans and all this bullshit he had no other way, but to do as he was commanded.

The Shelby drowned one glass and then next and then the next, still no contact in sight. For the glimpse of a moment he thought he had to wait all night for the man to come. After his fourth glass of whiskey a small man with a bowler, white stubbly hair and a curly moustache arrived. He had an umbrella with him and used it as walking stick. The way he walked looked almost cartoonish. John gave his best not to laugh about this codger, especially when he asked the question. “Oh, young boy, could you please tell me, how is the weather outside?” The voice of the strange man was croaking, which made the whole conversation even more farcical.

Now he really had to bit his lip, so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. “It’s fooking pouring”, John chuckled and emptied his glass.

“Good”, the old man said: “Just as I expected. Now I don’t need the paper anymore. Take this.” He handed John a newspaper with something inside. John took it and put it in the inside of his jacket. The dossier was safe there.

Instead of saying thanks, John shouted to the bartender: “One drink for him and one for me.” The guy behind the bar rushed to them and poured another drink. John wasn’t drunk yet, but sooner or later the whiskey would do his work.

The job was a simple transaction, but his part of the deal wasn’t done yet. First he paid the barkeeper and waited for him to leave. Then he sat there awhile and drank there quietly. He still didn’t know how he should hand the money discretely… until the man asked: “Boy, please do me another favor. Lend me some money for the cab.”

This had to be a sign, he thought and pulled out a thick wad of money, which he slipped into the wrinkly hands of the geezer. “This would be more than enough. Farewell.” He muttered and stood up from his stool, ready to leave.

Just in this moment he realized nature was calling and he should do that, before walking into the cold night of Birmingham. So he took a little detour to the lavatories.

With steady steps he headed to the exit. One last time he turned around. There was something interesting about this place after all. In the back were four card tables. John liked to play, whenever he was at the garrison, but even if he left right away, the garrison would be closed as soon as he arrived in Small Heath. It was almost midnight by now, but John was now more drunk than tired and he though one or two rounds of cards couldn’t hurt.

So he walked towards the tables and studied them to pick the right one. On the first were just some posh greybeards, which weren’t interesting at all or at least not for John. The second was empty and on the third table were two Chinese men talking in their mother tongue. The last table caught his attention. There sat the croupier, a man with a scar across his face in his forties, a Spanish guy with gelled hair and a lady. She had her hair open, so the blonde locks would reach her tailbone. This seemed by far to be the most interesting table.

Without a second thought he sat down at table number four. The other players nodded slightly, when he arrived. The round wasn’t done yet, but the pot was full of chips and in the middle was a golden hair pin. Now he realized why the woman wore her hair open. She had used her pin as her stake.  

John decided to take a closer look at his fellow players. The two men were exactly what he thought they would be… greasy, compulsive gamblers. Nothing more to say.

But the lady… Well, there was something about her. John couldn’t point it out yet, but he was eager to find out. Everything from her golden shiny hair to that arrogant grin on face was capturing. She had a fierce look on her face as if she knew something everyone else didn’t. Every little detail like her dominant cheekbones or tilted chin seemed to add to the impression how privileged and entitled she was. Yet, she was quite charming in her pink dress. Her clothing seemed to be expensive, but it completed her appearance.

John was so caught by her presence; he didn’t recognized when the round ended. The other player with the scar and the hat folded, so she won. As she revealed her hand, her opponent groaned and slapped his fist on the table. Apparently she had nothing, but a good poker face. The Shelby was pretty impressed. He had played cards with some girls before, but none of them were really good at it. They just tried to flirt with him, while playing.

So he leaned closer to her and whispered: “Any luck today?” She gave him a dismissive glare and then collected her stake.

While she twirled her hair around and put the pin back in place, the croupier asked John, if he wants to join for the next round. He nodded, pulled some bills out of his pocket and gave it to the dealer. In return the dealer handed him some chips and started riffle the cards.

The man who just lost the last round stood up and left the table grunting. Then the lady declared in a dry tone: “At least more than him.” John let out a little laugh. Obviously she was funny too. He already took the bait and was curious to get more information about her.

The Shelby slid closer to her and smiled at her, but that didn’t seem to please her. “Don’t fucking look at my cards.” She growled, raising an eyebrow. John bit his lip, glaring at her with amusement. Then he noticed, he didn’t even check his hand, so he did that- a jack and a five- and then placed a bet.

After he had done that, he started staring again and couldn’t stop until she nagged: “What exactly do you want from me?” He chuckled. As if he would know that?

“Whatever you want to give me”, he grinned and leaned forwards as he tried to get in a more comfortable position on his chair. While talking he noticed her smell. It was a combination of roses, vanilla and oranges. What a great contrast to the people he usually talked to. He wanted to ensure, that this wasn’t an illusion, but sniffing on woman wasn’t a publicly accepted thing to do. Even he knew and heeded that.

With widened eyes she gazed back at him. “So… you want to get slapped?” she answered, with blank eyes. The woman was quite serious, but John couldn’t help but smirk at her. He liked her fervor.

John smothered to say a little delinquent ‘Maybe’ and placed another bet as it was his turn again. His cards weren’t the best, but he wanted to keep playing.

They played for a while. Then out of the blue the lady asked: “Should I take you silence as a yes? Or did you swallow your tongue?” He didn’t expect her to insist on an answer.

His hand scratched the back of his head as he searched for words to say. “No, I just…”

“Just what?” she interrupted him, before he could even finish his sentence. Now she seemed to sneer.

Her laugh made him laugh too. It was contagious and he always had a thing for fierce women. “I just want to know you name at least” he added.

“Does this matter?” she responded while fumbling with her chips: “Aren’t we here to play cards, ey?”

The Shelby nodded. She was probably right. He shouldn’t care about this, but yet he still had the desire to know more about this mysterious creature in front of him. “To the game… no” he murmured: “To me, yes.”

She looked down at her cards, as she raised the stake. He didn’t know, if she would ignore him again, so he introduced himself first: “I’m John.” He raised her by two more chips.

The blond groaned as if she was almost disappointed. Then in the next round she called and said with the most Russian accent he could imagine: “I’m Darja, but you can call me Dascha.” Now he was surprised again. He didn’t expect that. From first sight she didn’t seemed to be Russian… but who would have guessed he was Romani. They would have thrown him out, if they knew.

“It’s a pleasure” he nodded and waited for the other player at the table to end his turn. That slickly guy folded and now it was just the two of them in the game. John decided to call and as he placed another red casino chip in the pot he whispered to himself: “Dascha”

Her name was like a sweet melody to him and fitted her image as an entitled little madam. They moaned the loudest though, when they get a good fuck. The picture of them doing it in the lavatories wouldn’t leave his head as he peered into the distance. How he would shag her, grabbing her tiny little butt, while she begged for more.

This little though brought him unholy amounts of pleasure. With a grin on his face he finally arrived back in reality, just to notice that he should shut his cards down. She waited patiently and then showed her hand.

The two of them starred at the cards. He had won with just a three of a kind. That was luck indeed. She had a pair of queens.

“Seems like you’re lucky tonight”, she mumbled as she took a sip from a colorful drink.

His eyes widened from surprise and amusement. Grinning at her he asked: “Oh, is that so?”

The blonde woman clucked her tongue and gave him a dismissive stare. “Don’t get cocky after just one round.”

So the next round started. They played for a while. Sometimes she had won and sometimes he did.

Now his cards were even better than the last time. John had to bit his lip to hide his smile. Soon after he placed a bet, he got an idea. The guy on the other side of the table was nearly out of money and so it was clear it was a race between them now.

When the other guy reached his limit, John put three of his red chips in the middle of the table and said to the croupier: “Open a side pot, please.” Then he slowly turned to the woman. She hasn’t changed mimic or position, almost statuesque. There was still this mysterious smile on her face. But then she moved her hand to call.

“Shall we make this more interesting?”, he purposed and flicked a coin in his hands.

She glared at him for a while, completely silent, as if she tried to read his thoughts. Very quietly she hummed. John had to focus on the melody to even hear it, so it wouldn’t get lost in the surroundings. Finally she tilted her head and inquired: “What do you have in mind?”

It seemed like the Shelby had caught her interest as well and he was ready to play with her. John licked his lips and laughed. “Just a little bet. If I win this round, we’ll meet again… on a date.” He knew just too well, that if he mentioned something more sexual, this little lady would run away. But as his grandfather used to say, he had to think of the long game.

The Russian nodded. “But what if I win? What do I get? Do you even have something interesting for me?”

Now he was a little lost. He thought he’d never get this far. What could she want was the question in mind. Well, he couldn’t give up his pocket watch and he didn’t have anything else expensive with him. But on the other hand she seemed to be rich enough to deny his offer.

John was desperate, not completely, just a little. This might be his only chance with a woman like her. So he did what he could do best- be an arrogant asshole! He looked at her the whole time until he made his move. His eyes wandered from her to his manhood and then back to her. With a cocky smile on his face he underlined his wager.

And she burst out in laughter: “Hell no!” It took almost a minute until she calmed down again. She was still giggling like a five-year-old, when she added: “This is not going to happen, but I’m going to take your ring as a stake. So you’ll learn your lesson.”

At first he didn’t know what she meant. Then he looked at his hands. Like other Romani he wore at least five of them. Most were family heirloom, but his wedding ring wasn’t. All his other rings were luxuriant. His wedding ring was simple golden and had no ornaments like the others. Until now he had completely forgot about this. Of course he was still wearing it. He never took it off. Not during the war and not after Martha had died.

John had never questioned it, but now he had to. If he wasn’t so sure, he would win, he would have never agreed to this. It was a weird feeling to take it off, after all those years.  He turned the ring in his hand, still worried if he would get it back. Then he heard her giggle again. She felt confident, John wouldn’t cross this line, but because she was so convinced, he finally put the ring on the table. “Then teach me”, he grunted.

Once again it was time to turn the cards. His heartbeat was going crazy as his fingers reached for the two cards in front of him again. He flipped them as quickly as possible. There was no chance, she would win. John had a fucking flush on his hand.

He was watching her closely, as she played with one lose streak of her blond hair. One moment she was laughing, and then she hung her head. Suddenly he would realize the bittersweet nuance in her smile, as she had shown her cards. The Russian had lost again. “My luck ended, when you came to this table, I guess”, she mumbled.

On the other hand John couldn’t feel luckier. He took his bet back, put his ring back on and piled up his chips gleefully. “Oh, you shouldn’t be sad. You just won a date with me”, he joked knowing he was just rubbed salt in her wounds.

Amused he watched her as she pouted her lips. She stood up from her stool, stretched herself and declared: “I better get going, before I lose the rest of my dignity.” A nod to the croupier was enough to tell him to change the chips back into money.

John did the same, when he had put his money away, he ran after her. “Wait, darling”, he said under his breath: “You don’t get away this easily. You still owe me something… Let me walk you home, so I know where I can pick you up for our date.”

She chose to ignore him, so he grabbed her wrist to stop her from going away. Then she turned around to him and raised her eyebrow. “Do I?”, she asked: “I thought this was a joke or would you really gamble away your wedding ring? What would your wife say about this?”

Before he could even answer, she added: “I mean I feel very flattered by your attention, since you’re somehow good looking or whatever, but I don’t fuck married man.”

“Stop right there”, he replied: “Yes, I was serious and don’t bring my wife into this discussion. The date doesn’t mean we have to have sex… I mean it would be nice, but that’s not my point. I want to get to know you… and I won.” Somehow he couldn’t tell her the truth. He was a widower with four children and he didn’t want her to pity him. Actually that was the last thing he wanted right now. In his opinion it was better if she thought he was a married asshole, than a poor, sad widower.

With a straight face she wrest herself free, just to offer her arm, so he could link in. Her cheeks were gleaming red as she moaned: “Let’s just get out of here.” Gladly he would take her hand and guide her outside.

It was still warm outside and it would be one of the last pleasant evenings in Birmingham for the next time. Fall was coming soon and it would get way colder. Right now, he and the lady to his right could walk down the street without a coat. John was mentally prepared to give her his jacket, if she would need it, but she was silent as they left the nightclub.

“Why do you want to walk with me? I don’t live so far from here”, she asked and looked the other way.

It was so dark outside; he could barely see his own hands in front of him. Yet he knew that her face was still flushed with shame. His smile was undeniable. “Well”, he explained: “You don’t come from Birmingham and so you might not know, it’s a dangerous town for a woman like you.”

He could see the silhouette of her head nod. Then he heard her laughter. “And you are here to save me?”

Of course, it wasn’t his job to bring her home, but it felt like the right thing to do and after all, he wanted to spend more time with her. It was a weird thing, yes, since he had only known her for maybe an hour or less, but there was something about her, something captivating and he thought that eventually- if he could get to know her better- he could figure out why she was so fascinating to him. There was something in her eyes, something he had never seen before and he was keen to know, what it was. Or maybe he was just needy and an idiot to fall for the first pretty woman he had seen for months. After a while he answered: “Yes, I do.” His voice was soft, when he spoke, it sounded so unfamiliar.

“What make you think I need a savior?” was her next question. Somehow he got the idea, that she would never stop asking things. The way she said it seemed so innocent to him. He had seen war and violence en masse and he knew his city well enough to predict something bad, without having any second Romani sense like his aunt.

“Nah, I just think it’s better to be safe than to be sorry”, he responded and caressed her arm with his thumb. Usually he wasn’t so sweet, when it came to woman, but he still tried to charm her. And it somehow worked, at least she giggled again.

Then she joked: “So what? You’re going to heroically fight them off with your fists? Is this what you want me to believe?” Suddenly she stopped walking and just stood there, staring at him.

John chuckled and stopped as well. “No, I have a gun.” He didn’t want to scare her, so he just said it very calmly. And well, there was no need to show his Webley to her, right?

The Russian laughed even louder. Somehow she managed to say: “Excuse me… English is not my first language… Is gun another jargon for cock?”

Another time this would make him laugh as well, but now he thought she was not taking him seriously, which hurt his big male ego. After all, he was a goddamn Shelby, a King of Small Heath, a gangster or whatever people liked to call him… and yet the little lady in front of him was twitting about him.

So he opened his jacket and his gun shimmered in the light of the nearest lantern. “See? I’m not joking, honey”, he grunted. Others would fear him now, but she looked very unbothered right now. She wasn’t impressed or scared, she hid all her emotions beneath her brilliant poker face again.

They stood there in silence for quite a while. John wasn’t sure how to proceed and he was still waiting for her reaction.

All the sudden a big smile from one ear to the other was carved into her skin. Her eyes seemed so lost, like she wasn’t mentally here anymore, when she lifted her hand to his head, or to his cap to be precise. She snorted as she hovered with her finger over the edge of his flat cap. He was about to tell her about the razor blades he had sewn in there, when she presented the blood on her index finger. “You are one of these Peaky Blinders. Am I right, John?”

He felt caught, even though this wasn’t actually a secret. It was more like everybody knew who he was. So why couldn’t he say something now? All those words were stuck in his thought and he couldn’t break nor speak. His head was all blank and he still wanted to turn this conversation around. The only thing he could do was to nod.

“Good”, she whispered and came close to him: “I like when someone doesn’t play by the rules, because neither do I.” The Russian moved away and her cheek briefly brushed against his.  A shiver ran down his spine. Her voice was electrifying and he wanted her to moan his name over and over again.

She was so mean, when she teased him like this, but he couldn’t deny that this was appealing to him. “Fuck”, he groaned and put his hand on her waist to pull her closer. Now he could see her face in the light of street lantern again. To his pleasure he noticed that she seemed at least a little scared. “Following the rules is just so tiring and on top of that also boring. Why should I keep playing by the book, when is so much more fun, just to break some shit?” Under his fingertips he felt the fabric of her dress and how she trembled.

Just like he thought it was getting to cold for just a summer dress like hers. “Do you want my jacket?”, he offered with a smile and moved his hand to her cheek to caress it gently.

Slowly she shook her head and refused his kind gesture. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” They were still close and she hasn’t hurried away, which was a good sign for him.  He liked to feel her warm body against his. The last time he had felt something like this was so long ago.

A small, but very vulnerable smile graced his lips. “Dascha?” Calling her name like was oddly intense, but his heart jumped when she squeaked. He hadn’t imagine her to be so soft all the sudden as if she was melting in his hands. And the look in her eyes gave him the rest. It was like the world had stopped for a second. There was no sound, no other smell and no other visual sensation. Everything else became so blurry. Now there was just her. Maybe it wasn’t even his action, maybe the whiskey had made him to it, but he leaned in to kiss her.

Their lips met a lot sooner than he thought. John was so relieved, she didn’t push him away and seconds later he was surprised how soft and sweet her lips tasted. He couldn’t get enough of this. His hands were all on her body. Right now everything else that happened this night was irrelevant. This was worth all the stress. And he was glad, he had enough courage to do it.

Even when they parted, they were still strangers to each other, but John was sure he felt a connection. Heavily breathing he couldn’t take his eyes of her. She was still panting. Her lips were swollen and her whole face was heading a shade of red unknown to mankind, but fuck, she was beautiful.

“You stole a kiss from me?” It sounded more like statement than a question, but John nodded in agreement. Yes, he did that and he was so proud he did. It was the most interesting thing, that has happened to him in months and he would do it again, if he had to.

The blond bid her lip and moaned: “Now I have to steal it back.” He hadn’t even realized what she just said, when he felt her lips on his again. She had caught him in surprise and he got the idea how she must have felt, when he attacked her like this. It was rushed and yet perplexing good.

They only stopped, because the bell announced the next hour. She looked up at the sky as if she could she the clock tower from this dark alley. “I have to go now”, she explained: “But let’s meet here again next week. Same spot at eight.” Then she pointed above them. Only now he noticed they were standing at the corner of St. James and George Road.

“Can’t wait”, he replied and smiled. There was no point in asking her again, if he should walk her home. She seemed to be sure to go home alone. The Russian nodded and hurried away. He kept eying her until she disappeared behind the next corner. This whole encounter was so surreal.

On the way back home he thought about her and hoped he wouldn’t forget their next meeting. Now he just had to figure out, how he would convince Polly to take care of his kids. When he got home everything was silent. The kids were asleep and he would go straight to bed to. As he stumbled out of his clothes and into his bed, he still could feel the touch of her lips. Needless to say, he had a wonderful sleep that night.

tagging: @theshelbyclan​ @justalonelyslytherin​ @bonniesgoldengirl​

#peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fic #john shelby #john shelby x oc #own character #fanfic #my first multichap #multichapter #john shelby is a switcher #by deepdonutkid #deepdonutkid #cheeky john #tw drinking #tw smoking

[xofanfics]

Selfish - Part 14

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Pairing: Jun x Reader / Chan x Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Summary: You love them both and you’re torn. But…what if you didn’t have to choose? Jun was scrolling through hotel listings on Jeju Island. He’d decided to surprise you with a trip to Jeju Island. What better way to prove himself to you than to spoil you a little bit? As the holidays came and went, February was here before he knew it. It was the perfect time to go on a trip. And he knew that you could use a little rest and relaxation.

Jun bought two plane tickets that night, as the prices went down a bit. He was excited to spend some time away and alone with you. You’d forgiven him but he knew that he was still sort of on your shit list. If something else went wrong, he wasn’t sure what you’d do. After all the two of you had been through with Malai and the arguing with Chan and all, things had been a little rocky.

He’d spend the next couple of days planning the trip, deciding some fun things to do while you were there. He wanted things to be perfect and he had all these ideas. He wanted to take you to see all the sites—the waterfalls, the beaches, all the beautiful things nature had to offer. You’d forget about all the stress of being at home and just enjoy the vacation with him.

As he scrolled through hotel listings, you called him. “Hello?” 

“Hey, babe,” you said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just on the computer browsing. You?”

“I just got out of the shower...”

“Oh really? What are you wearing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Wanna see?”

He smirked. “I can’t say no to that.” A moment later, he got a notification on his phone that you’d sent him a photo. You were nude, laying on your towel. You took the picture in the mirror above your dresser, across from your bed. “Wow. You look amazing, baby. I can’t wait to get my hands on you…”

He spent almost an hour on the phone with you and in that time, he found the perfect hotel. It wasn’t a huge suite like he would’ve wanted but it had a king sized bed, a loveseat, desk, and a huge flat screen tv. Not to mention the beautiful view. And even though it wasn’t summertime, it had a really nice pool outside. Luckily though, there was an indoor pool and a spa that you could take advantage of. He’d definitely book a couples’ massage with you, so you could both get all those knots of tension out of your systems. 

Jun was getting excited just thinking of all the fun you could have together. Lately, there hadn’t been much to look forward to so this trip was just what he needed. He was pumped to spend some time with you and get you all to himself. It had been a long time since he’d been on vacation and you hadn’t been on one either. So, he was more than happy to solve that problem. 

*

As Jun went up the train station escalator, he could hardly contain his excitement. Everyone had a long weekend due to the Korean New Year. Jun was glad because he planned to tell you the surprise today. The two of you had planned to have dinner together tonight and it gave him the perfect opportunity to tell you about his surprise.

You were waiting for him in the lobby of the building you worked in when he walked in. He figured that you must’ve gotten off a little early. As he walked toward you, you didn’t see him. He smiled at the sight of you in the lounge chair, smiling at whatever you were looking at on your phone. 

“Hi beautiful,” he said, taking you by surprise. “Did you get out a little early?”

You smiled, grabbing your bag and standing up to greet him. “Hey babe. Yeah, honestly everyone was ready to have a head start to this weekend. Everyone practically ran out of the office once our boss said we could leave.”

He kissed you on your forehead. “Nice.”

The two of you walked out of the building together, starting toward the restaurant that you wanted to go to nearby. On the walk there, you told him about your day and how the restaurant had really good steak and that it comes out perfect every time. He loved how animated you got when you spoke and how your eyes lit up with excitement. 

You arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later and were seated right away. It was more crowded than it would usually be on a Thursday evening because it was more like a Friday evening since everyone would be off of work tomorrow. 

“I come here with my coworkers sometimes for their lunch special,” you said, flipping through the menu. 

Your order was taken and you had your drinks within five minutes. Over the red wine, Jun said, “I have a surprise for you, babe.”

Your eyes lit up again, turning from your drink. “What is it?”

“We’re going to Jeju tomorrow morning,” he said. “I wanted to take you on a trip since we have off.”

“Wow,” you said, smiling even wider, “that sounds amazing. Are you serious?”

“Believe it, baby,” he said, reaching for your hand.

You looked down at the table for a few seconds before you said, “I have an idea, but it’s kind of crazy.”

“How crazy?”

“Well do you think that we could ever spend time together? Like the three of us?”

Jun nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“Well, what if he came with us?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you said. You cleared your throat. “I mean, we can wait another time if you want, of course...but I just wanted to put the idea out there. It could be good for us.”

To be honest, Jun wanted this trip to just be for the two of you, without Chan tagging along. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he had a problem with this arrangement or that he was being greedy. Even though he didn’t want to, he said, “Yeah, that’s fine with me,” because he didn’t want you to be disappointed. The reality was that his reply was the furthest thing from the truth. 

And it brought a smile to your face. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna give him a call and see if he can still get a flight. Can you forward me the flight info?”

He pursed his lips together as he went into his email and forwarded the flight itinerary to you. With a quick “Thanks, babe,” you were gone. You went into the hallway outside of the bathrooms and took out your phone. 

“Hello?” Chan answered.

“Hey,” you said, “I have good news and bad news.”

“Okay, what’s the bad news?”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to have our sleepover this weekend…”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to Jeju with Jun this weekend and I wanted to know if you wanted to...come with us.”

Chan paused for a moment; you didn’t blame him. The three of you had been through a lot in this relationship and you wondered if it was too soon to be together like this. Finally, he said, “That sounds like fun...”

“Do you really think you two can be in the same room together...with me?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, it’s bound to happen eventually, right?”

You gave him the flight number and, thankfully, he was able to book the flight. And from the looks of it, he was a couple rows behind where you and Jun would be sitting. 

“I’m all booked,” he said, after checking and re-checking the reservation. He chuckled. “I should get packing.”

*

Chan heard a knock at the door, interrupting him from his packing. It was Jason, who had arrived with a box of pizza. He sighed and went back over to his luggage. Confused, Jason sat down on the floor, putting the pizza on the table.

“What’s with you?” he said. He pointed to the luggage. “Are you going somewhere?”

“To Jeju,” Chan replied. 

“Ooh that sounds like fun. I wish I was going somewhere. My family is right here in Seoul so there’s not really anywhere to go.”

“There’s only but so much fun I can have,” he said, rolling his eyes, as he threw socks into his suitcase. “Jun booked a trip for them this weekend and Y/N invited me along but it feels like it was more pity than anything else…”

Jason cursed under his breath as he opened the pizza box. “Maybe he wants to make peace. Maybe this is him putting his foot forward and trying to make things better.”

“On my weekend? The bastard had the nerve to book this trip when I was supposed to spend the weekend with Y/N! He would do something like this! He had her to himself last week!” 

He kicked the suitcase out of frustration, startling his friend. Just when things seemed like they were looking up, Jun just had to do something to sabotage what they had. 

“Well, Y/N will be there. She won’t let him get carried away.”

Chan sighed and sat down, grabbing a slice of pizza. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve thought this over more. It feels like I’m third wheeling with my own girlfriend.”

Chan loved the idea of going on a trip with you. Since he was always busy with work and school, he rarely had enough time for the two of you to have a weekend getaway. But, for once, he was free all weekend and the cafe was closed for the holiday. And even better, his boss still paid him for the days he had off. He’d dubbed it a “New Year’s gift.” For once, things had been aligned so perfectly that it was hard to believe. And he planned on spending it with you since it was, in fact, his weekend to spend with you. 

But now the plans had been rearranged. You called him asking if he wanted to go and he didn’t want to disappoint you, so he agreed to the plan before thinking it through. Would it be a good time? He was struggling to trust Jun in the first place; he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool if he hurt you again. On the other hand, it was something that would have to happen sooner or later. In this polyamorous relationship, the three of you would eventually have to come together sometime. It couldn’t always be separate relationships that were somehow still one.

“Is she usually fair though? Does it seem like she favors him over you?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, mouth full. He swallowed and added, “I just gotta make it until Sunday. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Chan sure as hell hoped so.

*

The three of you arrived at the airport a little sooner than expected. You checked in your bags and went through security with no issues. You arrived at the designated gate with an hour to spare. Chan sat down, leaning against his neck pillow. He looked tired; he’d mentioned how he stayed up a bit late trying to finish one of his assignments so that he wouldn’t have to stress about it on Sunday before classes started back up again on Monday.

You went to the bathroom briefly and, when you came back, Chan was fast asleep. You smiled at the sight of him and the fact that his mouth was slightly ajar.

Jun chuckled and said, “He passed out right away. Do you wanna get something to eat since we have time?”

You nodded and went to shake Chan. “Babe, do you want to eat?” Chan opened his eyes ever so slightly before groaning and turning his head away from you.

Jun said, “Just leave him. He’s pretty tired, isn’t he? We can just get a sandwich for him or something.” You nodded, figuring that you should probably let him catch up on his sleep. It was early and you’d get to Jeju a little after one o’clock. If the three of you were going to do anything fun, he’d need to save his energy. 

As you walked to the toast stall you passed earlier, you said, “So what did you have planned for us?”

“Well, I was thinking today since we’re getting there a little later, we could take it easy and explore the city a little. There was a teahouse I wanted to visit. Then we can relax a little and get dinner together. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good...and thank you for planning all of this.”

“Anything for you,” he said.

You arrived at the toast stall and ordered toast for the three of you. Jun was surprised that you knew exactly what he would want and Chan, too. He loved that about you—you paid close attention to details. Even when he thought you weren’t listening or paying attention, you were. He loved you so much and he wished that this trip could be for just the two of you, but he also remembered that he signed up for this. He was the one that agreed to this and, while he had the right to change his mind, he didn’t want to lose you. He figured that this was better than nothing and he wanted to keep you in his life in whatever way he could. 

When you got back to the gate, Chan was awake and playing a game on his phone. He smiled upon seeing you walking toward him. 

“We got breakfast,” you said, handing him his bag. “Toast with extra egg.”

He smiled. “You’re amazing, you know that...”

“I would’ve ordered you extra egg, too,” mumbled Jun as he sat down in his seat next to you. 

The three of you just laughed. You were grateful. Maybe things were looking up for the relationship. There wasn’t as much tension between Jun and Chan today. You didn’t know if it was because they’d both matured a lot within the last couple weeks or if it was just because it was early in the morning. Either way, you were grateful and you hoped that the rest of the trip would go this smoothly.

Before you knew it, it was time to board. As the three of you inched along in the aisle, Jun turned to you and said, “Okay. Row twenty-one is right there.”

You said, “Why don’t you and Chan sit together? You could get to know each other a little better. I don’t mind sitting by myself. I can just sit where Chan was going to sit.”

Jun started, “B-”

Chan smiled. “Yeah, we should get to know each other better.”

Jun wasn’t thrilled to be sitting next to Chan on the flight but thankfully it was only for about an hour. But over the course of the hour, things weren’t bad. There would probably always be at least a little tension between the two of them, since the relationship started out in a strange way. But things were actually okay.

Chan carried the conversation, at first. He asked Jun about the kinds of music he liked and then they talked about their families and some childhood memories and Chan told him about his life growing up in Jeju on a tangerine farm. Jun was almost surprised at how down to earth he was. He wasn’t snobby or any of the things that he’d assumed about him. He almost felt bad for thinking those things about him. The reality was that Chan was a good guy and he could see why you liked him in the first place. 

Chan said, “I told my mom that I was coming for the weekend. I was thinking that maybe tomorrow, if we have time, we could have dinner with my family.”

Jun nodded. “By chance, do they know...about us?”

Chan paused. To be honest, he’d only told his friends about the true relationship they were in. Of course, he’d told his parents that you were back together with him but he hadn’t told them that you were also dating Jun. How could he tell his parents something like that? They definitely wouldn’t approve and he had no idea how complicated it would be for them to understand something that was so complicated in itself. 

“Not exactly,” he answered.

Jun knew what that meant before Chan needed to explain further. Jun knew that he wouldn’t be able to go to have dinner with Chan’s family as your boyfriend. In this situation, Chan would be your boyfriend and Jun would be stuck playing the role of a friend, whether it was your friend or Chan’s. Either way, it was like playing pretend.

Jun had no right to feel upset by it because he was in the same predicament with his own family. They knew that you’d hit a rough patch and got back together, but they had no idea that you’d picked up an additional partner on the way back to each other. He hadn’t even told his older sister despite the fact that they were pretty close. 

Was this something to be ashamed of? Would this be something that could ever be accepted? Even though no one was exactly lying, there was a lot of information being withheld. Jun had no idea how the three of you could keep this up. For how much longer, realistically, could you keep it up?

*

You pushed open the hotel room door, exhausted from the walk you’d gone on. You got to see the surrounding areas near your hotel and went to the teahouse that Jun wanted to go to, trying and even buying some of the teas. And Chan showed you some of the places he liked to go as a kid. And you had some street foods and tried fresh grilled mackerel, which Jun enjoyed so much he got seconds. It had been a while since Chan had been able to come to Jeju and he had never gone with you before; you had broken up with him before he had the chance to bring you to his hometown. You watched him as his eyes lit up, picking up memories from his childhood.

So far, you liked Jeju a lot and the scenery was so beautiful and you got a lot of pictures. From what you could tell, Jun had a good time too. And he took a bunch of pictures with his new camera. And your boyfriends were also cordial in taking separate pictures with you, too. And then you asked a kind stranger to take pictures of the three of you, together. 

“I’m exhausted,” Jun said, plopping down on the couch.

“That was fun,” you said, putting down your purse. “Thanks for showing us around, Chan.”

“Of course,” he said. 

“I made a reservation at the steakhouse for seven. We have about two and a half hours until then,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, we can just hang out around here for a while.” 

Chan said, “I could use a warm cup of tea,” poking around the kitchenette. There were two packets of instant coffee and two tea bags, clearly not enough for the three of you. “Actually, I’ll go to the cafe downstairs. Y/N? Jun? Do you want something?”

Jun said, “Can you get me a matcha latte?”

You said, “Me too.”

Chan nodded and grabbed a key card. “Be back in a couple minutes.”

As Jun heard the door shut, he was relieved. Finally, he’d have a moment alone with you. You smiled before he had a chance to say anything and you sat next to him on the couch before he had a chance to call you over. He sat up, pulling you into his arms. You snuggled into his shoulder. You said, “Thank you for planning this trip. I can’t wait to get cute for dinner.”

“You always look cute, my love. Which dress did you bring?”

“I got this long sleeved black one,” you said. “I’d gotten it awhile ago but didn’t have a chance to wear it.”

“I’m sure you’ll look great,” he said, planting a kiss on your lips.

You stood up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom…”

A few minutes later, Chan returned with the drinks. Jun was fast asleep on the couch, his legs sprawled out and his mouth slightly open. He heard water running in the bathroom and assumed that you were in there. He set Jun’s drink on the coffee table next to the couch, assuming he’d probably wake up in a few minutes. 

When you came out, Chan was sitting on the bed sipping on his tea. You sat next to him and he handed you your drink. “Thanks, baby.”

“No problem. Jun must be really tired, huh?”

You rested your head on Chan’s shoulder with a yawn. “Yeah. The first day of vacation always seems to be the hardest.” You glanced up at him. “Are you okay?”

He looked down at you, meeting your eyes. “Of course. I’m here with you.”

*

Jun’s eyes fluttered open about a half hour later. The room was darker than he remembered and as he glanced over to the window. The setting sun peeked through, shining on you and Chan asleep in the bed together. His heart dropped at the sight and jealousy pumped through his veins. 

He looked at the matcha latte, grabbing it and taking a sip. He was so annoyed he didn’t know what to do. What he really wanted to do was go over there, drag Chan out of the bed and possibly punch him in his stupid face. But this was his own fault. He had opened the door that allowed him to come on this trip with you anyway. He should’ve put his foot down when he had the chance. He’d just wanted the trip to be for the two of you and he didn’t have a problem with Chan doing the same in the future.

Was this selfish of him? Was this something he’d have to deal with for the duration of this relationship? Would the pangs of jealousy and frustration go away?

Matcha latte in hand, he decided to take a walk so that he could calm down a little. He knew that his anger and frustration would only boil over and spill into the relationship. The last thing he wanted was to upset you and especially not on a trip that was supposed to be relaxing for everyone. Although Jun felt anything but relaxed so far.

He went outside and started walking around aimlessly, no clear destination in sight. He just needed some air. He needed some time to himself, just to take a few deep breaths. 

Eventually, he started feeling more and more anxious as he walked back toward the hotel a few minutes later. His mind raced with irrational thoughts of the two of you in bed together. What if you were having sex right now, making a mess on the bed that the three of you were supposed to share tonight. 

He took out his phone, hoping that Taesik was free to talk for a few minutes. The phone rang four times before he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, how’s day one of vacation?”

“He’s all over her! How am I third wheeling on a trip that I planned?”

“Who are you more upset at, Jun?”

Jun sucked his teeth. He didn’t need his friend on the other end of the phone call being reasonable. He let out a sigh. “I don’t know...I just know that they fell asleep in the bed and her head is on his shoulder and he’s holding her hand.”

“I dunno what to say,” said Taesik. “Maybe this was a bad idea…”

Deep down, Jun knew that the three of you had issues that you hadn’t resolved. Jun knew there were issues but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact problems. He wasn’t a professional and neither were you or Chan. The three of you were just struggling through the whole thing. Should you invest in couples’ counseling? Was this normal? Jun hated this concept; he had no idea what was right and what was wrong. Was it normal to feel jealousy in a polyamorous relationship? 

“Yeah,” he said, “maybe we’re not ready for this…” He heard the phone beep on the other end. Pulling his phone away from his ear, he saw that you were calling him. “She’s calling me…”

“Answer her,” said Taesik. “Call me if you need to vent. I hope everything goes okay tonight.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Talk to you later.”

He clicked over to the other line, answering your call. “Baby, where’d you go?”

“I just got bored and came outside to watch the sunset,” he lied.

“Come back,” you said. “We should start getting ready. Chan is still asleep, so I’ll shower first.”

Jun said, “Okay, I’ll see you in a minute,” and the call was over. He headed upstairs to the hotel room, bracing himself and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. There was no reason for him to be angry. He had agreed to this arrangement, after all. He was in a relationship with you but so was Chan. And they needed to find a way to deal with it all.

When he got back, he heard the sink water running. Glancing over at the bed, he saw Chan was still asleep. He knocked on the door and you opened it, still dressed. You hadn’t gotten in the shower yet; he caught you just as you were washing your face. Finally, even if it was in the bathroom, he could have a moment alone with you. He stood behind you as you pat your face dry with the towel. 

“How was your walk?”

Jun nodded, wrapping his hands around your waist. “It was good. I’m better now that I’m back here with you,” he said, kissing your neck. “Mind if I join you in the shower?”

You raised your eyebrows at the suggestion and it also made you excited. “Yeah, why not?”

Jun watched as you peeled your clothes off slowly, teasing him. He’d be lying if he said his dick wasn’t throbbing in his pants at the sight of you. Taking off his own clothes, he never took his eyes off of you. And when you were completely bare before him, he pulled you closer to him and kissed you, hard. Your tongue found his, your naked bodies pressed together against the glass of the shower door. 

“I love you,” Jun mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you, too,” you answered, planting one last kiss on his lips. You followed Jun into the shower and you didn’t hesitate to start washing him up first. You took care to be gentle with him, turning him on. His lips parted as you massaged his balls and he let out a groan as your hand went up and down his shaft. Now, he was completely hard and his dick was throbbing with desire to bend you over and pound your pussy until you were screaming for more. 

He cursed under his breath as he got under the water and you helped him rinse the soap off of his body. He kissed you again and, as he did, he reached down to your clit. It caught you by surprise, making you gasp. He rubbed it harder and your lips parted with a moan. 

“Quiet, baby,” he whispered. “You don’t want to wake Chan up, do you?” He spun you around so that you were facing away from him, reaching down to rub your clit from the front. With his left hand he covered your mouth and with his right, he rubbed your clit. Jun enjoyed fucking around in the shower, even on a regular day. He loved seeing your wet body and how your pussy would end up like a river, your wetness flowing out and onto his fingers. 

He kept going and you squeezed your legs together as if you were trying to escape. Jun chuckled. “Don’t you want to come, baby?” With that, you parted your legs again, letting the pleasure take over. He felt the vibrations of your moans on his palm, but he held it there anyway. It turned him on to feel you struggling. He took your clit between his thumb and pointer finger, giving it a few light squeezes that drove you crazy. After, he dragged his fingers down your slit. Already, you were so wet. And he knew that it didn’t take you long to come like this.

He could feel you struggling, against his fingers. Your body was starting to twitch and he knew you were dangerously close to your orgasm. 

“Come for me, Y/N,” Jun whispered in your ear. 

Hearing his voice in your ear is what did it for you. You couldn’t take it anymore. You let go, trembling, shivering, and coming all over his fingers. And once you came down from your high, he kissed you once more.

*

“Are you almost ready to go?” Chan asked. His stomach was growling and you’d been prancing around the hotel room in your bra and underwear, scrambling to finish getting ready for the past ten minutes. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping into your dress. “My makeup didn’t come out like I expected...Can you zip me?” Chan nodded as you walked over toward him. He zipped you up quickly, hoping that this was the last thing you had to do before the three of you headed to dinner. Thankfully Jun had pushed the reservation to 7:45 rather than 7:30 because of the chance you might be late.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, placing your hands on Jun’s shoulders as he sat on the couch. 

“Okay,” Jun said. “Let’s call a cab.”

Within fifteen minutes you arrived at the restaurant. Luckily, it wasn’t too far away from the hotel. Jun had chosen a nice restaurant because he wanted to treat you to a special dinner. Of course, he had to change the reservation to three people instead. And he’d be sharing dinner with not only you but with Chan too.

You entered the restaurant and your party was seated right away, in a booth. Thankfully it was one of those curved ones so that you didn’t have to choose who to sit next to or for the three of you to squeeze on one side. You sat in the middle, with a boyfriend at either side of you.

“This place is pretty nice,” said Jun, taking off his coat. “I know you don’t like restaurants that are too fancy, so this is a good in between.”

“Yeah,” you said. “This is perfect. I’m paying, by the way.”

“No,” Chan said. “You shouldn’t be the one to pay. I should pay, since there was this last minute change.”

Jun rolled his eyes when no one was looking. Jun had planned on paying and here Chan was being a goody-two shoes. He found himself becoming annoyed, even though he had been trying so hard not to act like this. While you were getting dressed earlier, he tried to push down feelings of jealousy as you walked back and forth from your suitcase to the bathroom half dressed. He tried not to feel jealous because obviously both he and Chan had seen you naked and both he and Chan had sex with you; everything was just separate. 

Jun tried to push down those feelings of jealousy as he looked at the menu for the next few minutes. The waiter came and took everyone’s order. He said, “Wine, anyone?”

“Sure,” Jun answered. “What wines go well with steak?”

Jun was definitely going to need some alcohol in his system if he was going to get through the night without losing his cool. He didn’t mind Chan, in general, but he’d like him much better if he was back in Seoul instead of here with them. 

For the most part, dinner went smoothly. The three of you had some pretty good conversation. Things between Jun and Chan weren’t explosive; neither men took petty jabs at each other and the three of you were able to laugh together. If anything, they were the ones poking fun at you, revealing a few of your embarrassing moments.

Jun chuckled. “Oh my god, did Y/N ever tell you about the first time she got blackout drunk?”

“No,” Chan said, “what happened?”

Jun cleared his throat. “She was at the karaoke bar getting drinks with Na-Ri and their other friends and she asked me to come get her. So, I get there and order more drinks. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and she fell into some garbage bags outside the bar. And when I got her back up again, she fell back down into them.”

As the guys started laughing again, you said, “Stop! That was so embarrassing. Everyone stopped to look and you know what the worst part of it was? There were police officers on duty and they walked by and they laughed! They fucking laughed at me! Can you believe that?”

And both Jun and Chan erupted into laughter. Jun picked up his wine glass, finishing what was left. He’d been the one to finish most of the wine, leaving little for you and Chan. He said, “Oh, did I finish most of it? Should I order another?”

You put your finger on your chin. “Actually...we should go out after this.”

Chan looked up, chewing on a piece of steak. “Where to?” 

“I saw some bars a few doors down. Why don’t we check it out?”

In an ideal world, Chan wouldn’t be here. In an ideal world, it’d just be you and Jun. And in an ideal world Jun would go out with you to the bars knowing that he’d be taking you back to the hotel so that you could make love all night and fall asleep in each others’ arms. But that couldn’t happen tonight and it was frustrating. It’s not that his main goal was to have sex with you but having the option taken from him sucked. He just wanted some privacy and alone time with his girlfriend. But with Chan here, it was impossible and he’d just have to make the best of it. His goal was just for you to be happy and to enjoy yourself.

*

This lounge had a chill vibe. It was a little more upscale than the others in the area but, surprisingly, it wasn’t too crowded considering it was a Friday night. The three of you sat in a booth, complete with velvet couches and a menu perfectly aligned in the center of the table. You picked up the menu, wondering what their drinks were like.

“What are you thinking of getting babe?” asked Chan, looking at the menu with you.

Jun rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You nodded. “Want me to order you something?”

As Jun slid out of the booth, he said, “Yeah. You know what I like.” And with a wink, he was gone. Within five minutes, the drinks were ordered and Jun had come back to the table looking a little stressed out. You noticed because you knew him. There was something bothering him and you were just noticing. You felt a little guilty for not noticing sooner that is, if he’d been feeling stressed out earlier.

As the waiter placed your drinks on the table, you turned to Jun. “You okay?”

He gave you a nod as you slid him his drink. “Of course.” 

A few sips into their drinks, you turned to Chan. “So did you talk to your mom?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah. I told her that I’m here and that I’m staying until Monday since I don’t have class.”

“I want to see her,” you said. “It’s been awhile.”

Chan cleared his throat. “I know. I thought about it and I’m not sure it’s a good idea if the three of us are together…It’s kind of complicated since they don’t know about Jun...”

You pouted, the realization setting in. “Oh…okay. I guess you’re right...”

Chan knew you were disappointed because you hadn’t seen his parents in awhile. He knew they’d be happy to see you and vice versa. Chan looked over at Jun, who seemed more concerned with his drink than the conversation the three of you were supposed to be having right now. Chan was annoyed. He was trying to be considerate of Jun’s feelings, since he was the one who brought up that their families don’t know the nature of the relationship they were in. He was the one who brought it up in the first place and he wasn’t even paying attention. And even worse, Chan was the only one who seemed to notice. Of course, he had no problem with bringing his girlfriend to meet his parents. But he didn’t want to make Jun uncomfortable.

“Jun,” called Chan.

Jun looked up from his drink. “Hm?”

“Y/N seems to really wanna meet my parents. Do you think we could maybe meet them at a restaurant? That way we won’t have to stay for too long…”

Jun wasn’t happy about it. If he was being honest, he wanted to suggest that he take her to dinner and for him to stay at the hotel. He didn’t want to meet Chan’s family as a friend. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be and it wasn’t fair that he had to suffer on his own vacation.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess that wouldn’t hurt.” He grit his teeth and tried to convince himself that this was normal. He knew that, at the end of the day, it would be the same if the roles were reversed. If it was Jun’s family here, the scenario would be the same. Chan wouldn’t be able to come in as your boyfriend either. 

But you were smiling. You were happy and Jun supposed that that was more important.

“Okay,” said Chan. “I’ll call them in the morning.”

You turned, looking toward the dance floor. It was mostly empty; You saw one group dancing together. There was hip hop music playing and it was one of your favorite songs. Your body wanted to move. “Let’s dance.” As you scooted off of your seat, you looked at Jun expectantly.

“I’ll join in a minute. I’m just gonna finish this,” he said, pointing to the rest of his drink. In all honesty, Jun was frustrated. To be honest, he didn’t want to be here and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to dance. He watched you dance with Chan and you weren’t even dancing with him in a sexual or suggestive way. You weren’t grinding on him or anything like that but he still felt jealousy coursing through his veins. These feelings seemed unreasonable. Jun had been in this arrangement with you for a couple months now. He knew how things were supposed to be. So why was it that he still felt this ridiculous jealousy, still? Why was it that he couldn’t accept this relationship with you and with Chan? 

With a sigh, he finished your drink in one gulp. But he needed more, especially to deal with the feelings and doubts that crossed his mind. He walked over to the bar, taking a seat at the bar.

“What can I get for you?” asked the female bartender.

“Something strong,” he replied. “How about whiskey? On the rocks.”

She smiled and a moment or two later, returned with his drink. A few sips in, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Jun turned and was faced with the person that he wanted to see the least. The alcohol was starting to hit him now and he was beginning to care less and less. He rolled his eyes and he didn’t care if Chan saw him. And Chan did see but decided to be the bigger person and brush it off.

What pissed him off is that Chan approached him with raised, concerned eyebrows. Glancing back over to the dance floor and table, you were nowhere in sight. He assumed that you must’ve gone to the bathroom. 

“What’s up with you?” 

Jun shrugged his shoulders, indifferent to Chan’s concern. “What does it look like? I’m having a drink, like everyone else here.” He took another sip. From Chan’s point of view, it seemed more like a gulp than anything else. 

Chan looked back at the table and glanced at you. “Why don’t you come drink it at the table...with us? Y/N’s in the bathroom but she’ll be back in a second.”

Jun sighed, swirling the ice around in his glass. “I’m just having a good time over here. I’m enjoying the vibes and the scenery. I can’t even do that?” 

Chan looked at the now empty glass Jun had in his hand. He scoffed as Jun ordered another. “Never mind…”

“Do you have a problem with me?”

“No,” said Chan. “If you weren’t in the mood to dance, I get it. But I don’t understand why you left the table to come over here and down a whole drink in two minutes...”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good glass of whiskey. You should try it. Don’t be so uptight.”

With that, Jun placed his new glass in Chan’s hands. “Here, have some.” Jun cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Chan raised his eyebrows, curious at the direction the conversation was going.“What?”

“Don’t you get jealous?”

“Sometimes...but I try not to let it get the best of me.”

Jun pouted. “You’re her favorite.”

Chan couldn’t believe his ears. Was Jun serious? Was he actually saying these words in all seriousness? “Are you fucking kidding, Junhee? She literally left me for you. What we had was perfect and she left me and went running back to you! Did you forget about that or do you have a selective memory? You're the favorite here!”

Jun pouted. “It just seems like she always gravitates to you...”

“All night she’s been checking on you and wondering if you’re okay. In fact, I haven’t even been able to enjoy myself tonight because she’s been so concerned about you and your shitty mood!”

“She would do the same for you because that’s how she is…”

Chan ignored him. “Why are you so insecure? Can't you see that she's been concerned about you this whole time?”

“I wanted to take this trip and make it special just for the two of us and you just had to come and mess it all up!”

“Stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling!”

“Well you’re clearly upset with me. Honestly, if you wanted your own time why did you let me come? Why lie to her and act like you're okay with me showing up if that's not true? Were you just trying to make her happy?” he asked. 

“Of course I was trying to make her happy. I’m always trying to make her happy…”

“And you thought you’d make her happy by lying to her and leading her on? Looks like you’re doing a great job.” Chan couldn’t help but to let out a deep sigh. “You know, I thought you agreed to this because you thought it would be good for the three of us. I thought you were finally coming to accept things and make this work. I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But now I see I was wrong...”

Chan would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. He thought that maybe he and Jun could be friends. He thought that after the plane ride and the conversation they’d had that they’d finally be able to get along, not only for your sake but because they genuinely wanted to. But it was becoming more and more clear that Chan was dreaming and he needed to wake up from this dream.

Wake up, Yuchan...

*

Tagged: @hxnsoliee

#reader x yuchan #reader x junhee #a.c.e smut #a.c.e fluff #a.c.e angst #a.c.e imagines #a.c.e reactions #a.c.e scenarios #jun smut #jun angst #jun fluff #park junhee #chan smut #chan angst #chan fluff #kang yuchan #kpop angst #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #yuchan smut #yuchan angst #yuchan fluff #junhee angst #junhee smut #junhee fluff

[mallickshah]

CHECKING IN: 2024

MALLICK SAI SHAH; ACE OF CLUBS; 2021-2024 A Leap Through Time.

It has taken more than one speech, more than one gathering, more than reaching out once for Mallick to establish the innovative notions he wanted implemented in the faction. The council of Barbarians has brought in a following that is surprisingly peaceful, as long as they get their fair share of power. It is not without much reticence that Mallick agrees to let them have the monopoly over certain things, but he’s not all powerful, and to be such has never proven to work in the past.

Friends have supported him, his family has shown support, not only by keeping him alive but also by making sure to show a unified front to whoever dared to try to speak ill of his intentions. The Resistance and the members who were not informed of Mallick’s departure, and how he would speak of them during his first speech, have become rather vengeful. Attacks have been attempted, but foiled each time by the ones who were sworn secrecy over his true intentions behind the lies he told about the rebellious group.

Mallick has been kept busy, so busy in fact that his whole life seems to have passed him by without any realization. The first one involved a lot of pushback, from all corners of the city, but as long as he kept the ones he gathered the first time, progress seemed to go accordingly. Slowly, clubs began to accept their new fate by the end of the first year. Mallick has been working to leave people less hungry, less angry and more outraged at the right people, the outsiders. It did the trick to make clubs fight for one another, to a certain degree of course, but it did create something else he didn’t think he would need to address.

Open animosity for other factions and even less cooperation when it came to dealing with members of other factions. The second year was about mending broken bridges, but Mallick didn’t focus on this for the entirety of the year, it might have been selfish on his part, but he grew to not quite ‘dislike’ this new found patriotic way clubs started to do things. The Council came to light as a solidified established part of his politic mid 2023; the reception wasn’t too wild, moderately argumentative, but by then, people might have already heard the rumors of the Ace working alongside the Barbarians’ leftovers.

The end of 2023 brought about new changes, even busier times came by the end of the year. Mallick and The Council worked to bring forth ways to make those who hunt, fight and can protect the faction work for the weakest while making them think they were doing it for themselves. No clubs would agree to simply work for those they thought were not deserving, so it had to take a bit of reverse psychology to make this work.

clubs now have a group of hunters to keep up with the demand for food. This group is handled by Devjay, Mallick’s brother, and some of the best hunters and shifters with predators for animals that he managed to get on his side during the first gathering. The hunters work on rotation, they also accept volunteers who simply want to join in on the adventures. Outings’ dates are posted on the board of Yureif’s tavern the second Monday of each month.

Mallick’s relationships have not taken a big hit, aside from the one he had with certain Resistance’s members who were not made aware of his plans falling out, the ones he has with his family grew stronger. So did the ones he established with his allies.

Mallick has been keeping every promise he’s ever made, on a poster, or in a meeting.

The club's citizens now have a meeting with The Ace and The Council where they may share their worries and suggestions on how to make things better for the faction. The paperwork is handled by one of Mallick’s sisters-in-law.

The meetings are held once a month, to gather information on how well the new ruling is doing, but to also assess what is needed to make it better, or to totally abolish and be reestablished. Trials and errors have been keeping him more and more indoors, going through ideas and suggestions, then releasing tension with light sparring. Mallick has so far joined three hunting journeys, the first three ones, to ensure that they are safe and only there for the good of everyone.

The Adventurer’s Guild is something that came as a surprise to him, but not something he disliked in the way things were going. They at least made things a lot better, so who is Mallick to judge them at all? Besides, he has better things to do than to worry about whatever it is they did to get rid of the supposed River Witch. Mallick has been playing his own shady moves on his own chess to get where he wants to get, so he’s not exactly in any position to judge anyone.

Among friends who have supported his ways of doing things are: Fallon and Hilo.

Fallon is no surprise as she advised him plenty of times during the decisions he took, she has been playing the unwanted role, perhaps, of advisor since he became Ace. Hilo did come as a surprise for Mallick, a discussion has been had about not revealing anything Mallick has told him about his time in The Resistance, Mallick returns the favor by never mentioning the interview that took place of course. As an ally, Hilo has been the liaison for lowranked individuals during the meetings with The Council and The Ace.

Clubs now have a patrolling team, established by The Council and whose members have all been picked by The Council’s members. This is a recent addition, established at the beginning of 2024. It has come with its complaints and opposition however, as some members feel they are being watched and supervised like children. However, those who benefit from the protection it offers have been grateful for the team.

The team, by Mallick’s standards, is made of a lot of hard headed wannabe heroes who think they are handling the only job that matters in the faction. He likes to let them think that because it helps them to not feel like they’re being used to protect the weak. Discrimination still runs rampant, but it is not something that brings forth actions like murdering people and not getting away with it. Trials are not held at clubs, but the patrolling team reserves the right to take justice in their hands the way they see fit if they wish to. They are reminded to not shake the current peaceful state of affairs, however, or they might lose certain privileges; eg. getting dibs on certain food ratios first before the rest of the population.

The divide of food ratios that comes in from the Hunters is shared with everyone. Those who hold any sort of complaints can request a meeting with The Ace to understand why things are divided the way they are. Mallick will gladly meet with anyone who wishes to see him, whatever they come uninvited or invited. He’s also settled himself back in the house he shared with Saiyah, her belongings have finally been packed and sealed somewhere safe in the house.

His house is now known as his headquarters.

The backyard where the tree full of wishes on the branches is a favorite of many clubs’s members, they’ve added their own wishes to the tree as well. The kids especially love the idea of putting their wishes there.

It is becoming a tradition to think that Mallick’s tree really does grant wishes; Mallick cannot be more delighted because it keeps Saiyah alive through their hopes and wishes. The elders who know of the story of how he lost his wife have named the tree after her, whether that sticks or not, only relies on the children they tell the stories to.

So far, hearing his late wife’s name more times than he ever thought he would be able to withstand has not been so unpleasant. Especially not when it is filled with the wonder of innocence, pondering just how real the magic in her name is.

Mallick has not had time for himself, but he’s more than happy with his current position.

Oh, his beard has grown back of course.

#kadeu: task #the wounded widow (solo) #this is me for a lifetime #i'm out

[aswallowssong]

Play Date

Dave thinks Spencer needs some friends his own age. The Big Kid Squad agrees. Spencer does not. or The one where Hotch and Alex take Spencer to the playground and nothing bad happens for once.

Big thanks to the wonderful, amazing, talented, @themetaphorgirl for letting me play in her sandbox! Again! This drabble is based in her Patron Saints AU (Patron Saint of Lost Causes), which is AMAZING and YOU SHOULD READ.

Read on AO3

-----

The idea was Dave’s, actually.

“Do you ever feel like our kid should hang out with kids his own age?” Was what he said, quietly, with a smirk on his lips. He had turned his eyes to Spencer, who was helping Emily with her math homework a table over. No one batted an eye over the fact that he referred to Spencer as “our kid.” They all felt exactly the same way.

There was a pensive moment in which they all turned to look at the sight. Emily had her face in her hands, but Spencer was excitedly rambling about angles and functions.

“You’re right,” Alex said, suddenly opening her laptop, “you’re completely right.”

Dave raised an eyebrow over his own laptop, pen dropping onto his notebook. “I was sort of joking.”

“No you weren’t,” James said. He glanced over at Alex’s screen. “I agree, though. What are you looking for?”

Alex’s fingers clicked away, eyes scanning and searching.

Hotch leaned over to look as well, abandoning the English essay he was writing one sentence at a time in his own fraying notebook.

“Where are the other kids?” Alex mumbled, eyes never coming off the screen.

“JJ and Derek went on a run. Pen said she had a project to work on, and you said she couldn’t bring glitter into the library.”

“She cannot and will not,” she affirmed, clicking her tongue and sitting back from the screen. “What do you think about that?”

Both James and Hotch squinted at the screen. Hotch shrugged, but James nodded.

“Yeah, I know what that is,” He said, “We used to go there as kids, but it was sort of new and weird. I’ve heard they’re more mainstream in the bigger towns now.”

“What are you looking at?” Dave said, finally giving in. He tilted the screen of his own laptop down, leaning forward towards them and gesturing for Alex to hand her laptop over.

She passed it wordlessly, watching for Dave’s reaction. She worried at her lip, glancing again at Spencer and finding herself smiling as he flailed his arms around, trying to show Emily how her triangle should look with his bony wrists and elbows.

He needed to eat more.

“An indoor playground?” Dave said, raising an eyebrow at Alex with a look she couldn’t place. “He’s already sheltered.”

“They’re popular! I take the kids I babysit over the summer to one all the time, and they love it,” she assured. “He has bad memories of kids his age, do we need to pair that with his aversion to the outdoors?”

The boys glanced between each other.

“He’s not going to want to go,” Hotch said slowly, turning over his shoulder to watch their youngest for a moment. “There'll probably be a ton of kids there. Maybe it would be bad.”

“Maybe it would be good,” James said with a shrug. He took the laptop back from Dave and looked at the screen again. His mouth twisted into a frown, and he looked over at Alex. “This one is like at least half an hour from here.”

Alex nodded, giving him a small, guilty smile. “Forty minutes, give or take.” She waited a moment before she asked, “I was thinking maybe this Saturday.”

James nodded for a second, but then stopped as his mouth turned into a frown. “I’ve got that first aid training, I can’t drive you then.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, face breaking into a wicked grin. “I was going to see if Dave would take you to the training, and maybe, if Hotch and I could take your piece of shit car?”

“Hey!” Dave and James exclaimed at the same time.

“I’ve got a life!” Dave said as James insisted, “It’s not a piece of shit!”

James’s call gained more attention, Hotch’s chuckle breaking the single moment of tense energy.

“Um, yeah it is.”

James frowned defiantly. “Listen, the shitbucket is a shitbucket, sure, but it's not a shitty car . There’s a difference!”

“Is there?” Hotch continued, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of James so easily.

“I don’t think so,” Alex added, grinning mischievously at the exasperated boy next to her.

“Neither of you even have a car at all!” He insisted. “Maybe I’ll take my shitty car to my first aid training.”

Dave rolled his eyes, shutting his laptop and picking up his notebook. “No you won’t. You’re going to let Alex and Hotch take your car so they can win some sort of parenting award, and I’m going to take you to that first aid training.”

Alex grinned at Dave as she shut her own laptop, standing to grab her bag. “You’re the best, Dave.”

“There’s a hot brunette in James’s trainings,” Hotch said offhandedly, shoving his notebook unceremoniously into his backpack.

“That’s not the reason! I’m a good friend!”

“Also, I can’t say I’ll go with you before I see what the RA schedule looks like,” Hotch continued, ignoring Dave in favor of speaking to Alex. “I'll have to make sure it’s okay with Gideon, I’m sort of supposed to be around.”

The three seniors gave Hotch a look that could have said, ‘are you fucking kidding me?’

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dave did say, “Gideon let’s you do anything. Gideon has gotten you out of class a million times this year.”

“That’s not even a close guess.”

“Spencer,” Alex interrupted, calling over to the other table, “Em, come on. I’m starving.”

Spencer pouted up at her but grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder so he could follow behind like a baby bird. Emily sighed as she all but threw her things together, scurrying after them.

Hotch hung back a bit, moving himself between James and Dave before asking, “Do you guys think this is a bad idea?”

His eyes didn’t move from the back of Spencer’s head. He was nervous, but hopeful at Alex’s plan. Spencer really did need some younger kids to play with. It couldn’t be healthy for him to only hang out with kids at least three years older than him all the time.

“No,” James said quickly, watching as Spencer bounded after Alex, three steps to her one. “He needs some other kids to play with.”

“You know, if they play with him,” Dave said. James and Hotch both punched him in the arm, one on either side, and Dave called quickly, “Ow! I was kidding! Damn!”

-----

They started discussing their weekend on Thursday, like always, and Penelope had her notepad and fuzzy pen at the ready.

“Okay, so we already know James is leaving us behind for greater things-”

“I’m going to first aid training?”

“-Which,” she continued, not letting James stop her, “means he’s out of the family plans!” She scribbled quickly in her loopy handwriting. “So what are the rest of us doing? Game day? Arts and crafts? I bet if we really tried, we could use my glitter and-”

Hotch spoke cautiously. This was the part of the plan he and Alex had discussed the least, and it was going to be the hardest. Getting Spencer to go with him and Alex would be fine, but leaving the other kids behind was not going to be an easy feat. They weren’t going to tell Spencer where they were going, not until he was in the car, so getting the other kids to back off would be a challenge.

“Actually Penelope,” he started gently, “Alex and I want to take Spencer somewhere on Saturday.”

Spencer looked up from his place in Alex’s lap, the book in his fingers falling closed in surprise. “Me?”

Alex nodded, moving her hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes. “Yes, baby. Just you.”

“But why?”

“Yeah, why does Spencer get a field trip!” Penelope accused, Derek and Emily nodding emphatically in her defense.

“I want to get out of here, too,” Derek said, “This place sucks on the weekend.” He looked over at JJ and nodded. “Right, Jayje?”

JJ simply shrugged, looking between Hotch and Alex as she spoke. “I guess. Why just Spencer?”

“Yeah!” Emily said. She tossed her phone onto the ground, missing the top of the table, but not moving to fix it. “Why just Spencer?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, twisting in Alex’s lap to peer at Hotch through his bangs. “Why just Spencer?”

James chuckled, eliciting a grin out of their youngest. He was the easiest to crack, so the responsibility of laughing at Spencer’s jokes usually fell to him. “Nice.”

“It’s a surprise,” Alex said steadily. Her grip on the child in her lap tightened just-so, and the fact that she didn’t give any more was an indication that she wouldn’t be if pressed again.

Penelope sighed at her lack of answer, flopping dramatically onto the table. “Well then what are we going to do?”

JJ patted her shoulder. “You could come with me to the dance studio?” Penelope groaned.

“Then what am I going to do?” Derek said, and JJ smirked at him. “You can come too. You’d look great doing a développé .”

“I’m going to développé an allergy to the two of you,” he mumbled, kicking his feet up onto the table.

“Hey!” Penelope cried, popping up from her pout.

That was all it took.

“Stop it! Jesus you guys, okay,” Dave had hit his ‘arguing children’ for the night. “I’m taking James to his nerd training, and then I’ll take you guys to Target. Just stop arguing. Stop whining.”

Derek, Penelope,Emily, and JJ cheered happily, placated by the knowledge that if Dave was going to take them shopping, Dave was probably going to pay for their shopping.

Hotch chuckled quietly, watching how they bickered and teased. His eyes shifted to watch Spencer, buried back in his book as his head tucked under Alex’s chin. Spencer was so content to sit there, quiet and out of the action, that Hotch wondered for a moment if they were really making the right decision.

What if they took Spencer to the playground and some kids made fun of him? Or beat him up?

He shook his head quickly, shaking the thought from his head. It would be good. He had to believe that it would be good.

-----

Spencer tried to wiggle away from Hotch’s looming figure in the small confines of his booster seat. “Stop, Hotch, I can buckle it!”

Hotch dropped the buckle and took a step back. They did this every time they took Spencer in the shitbucket, or Dave’s car, on a rare occasion. Regardless of the fact that the now ten year old could  most certainly not buckle it, it was better to let him try and fail.

If Spencer wanted to spend a full minute fighting a seatbelt, Hotch wasn’t going to stop him.

“I almost, ah, I- damn -” Spencer mumbled as his uncoordinated fingers fumbled with the buckle. His arms were not quite long enough, and his fingers not quite trained enough to get the buckle from his seated angle. Hotch knew this. James knew this. Everyone knew this.

Spencer simply refused to accept it.

“Language,” Hotch reprimanded quietly, though he didn’t mean it. Emily and Dave had ruined him.

Spencer tried one last time before the buckle slipped out of his hand, a frustrated sigh escaping him as he tipped his chin to his chest in defeat. “Hotch, I need help.”

Alex gave a quiet chuckle from her spot in the driver’s seat, watching as Hotch took the buckle and snapped it into place in seconds. He gave the booster seat a little wiggle, almost as if he didn’t trust its ability to keep their pseudo-son safe before closing Spencer’s door and taking his seat next to Alex.

“Thank you!” Spencer chirped from his spot, and Hotch threw a grin over his shoulder.

“You're welcome."

"Where are we going?"

Alex turned to give Spencer a smile, saying playfully, "Oh, it's a surprise."

Spencer’s mouth changed from his previous grin to a low-level pout. “But I don’t like surprises.”

“This is a good surprise,” Hotch assured quickly. “Do you need me to navigate, or do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m pretty sure I- well. Maybe pull it up,” Alex answered, adjusting James’s mirror again. It seemed to want to slide just out of place. "Just in case."

Spencer seemed unsatisfied with their answer, but he didn’t pry again.

Hotch and Alex were grown ups. They said it was a good surprise. Maybe what Dave had told him was right.

Hotch fiddled with his phone as Alex turned the ignition, listening to the ungodly start of James’s engine. She checked the windows once more before pulling out of the parking lot, knowing how to get to the highway without needing Hotch's navigation.

They drove for a while, Alex and Hotch talking quietly about classes and homework as Spencer focused his efforts on reading and not looking out the window.

He'd played that game and lost too many times.

When they got off the highway and started into the bigger town Alex slowed, the breaks on James's car working just fine but giving a squeal of protest.

“Oh god, the shitbucket is going to be the end of me," Alex muttered.

"Why is Alex allowed to call it the shitbucket, but I'm not allowed to say damn?" Spencer complained, finally looking up from the book in his lap.

Hotch sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Because, Alex is seventeen and you're ten."

"Emily let's me say damn." He countered, to which Alex sighed, "She's not supposed to."

"She lets me say bitch too."

"Okay, no,” Hotch said, effectively cutting him off. “No we're not saying any of those words. Especially at the playground."

"Hotch-"

"Playground?!" Spencer squeaked, going a shade of paper white in Alex's rear view mirror.

They were entering dangerous territory. Hotch had wanted to tell Spencer where they were going before they left, but Alex had disagreed, and now they were in too deep.

"Uh," Hotch said, "well-"

"I don't want to go to a playground! Dave said you were taking me to get ice cream!" The younger boy cried, betrayal heavy in his voice.

“Oh, baby, it’s going to be fun,” Alex said gently, clicking on her blinker and changing lanes.

“You said this was a good surprise!" He countered, “How could this possibly be good?”

Hotch turned in his seat, wincing a little as the world shifted around him, body now the opposite direction to how they were moving. “It’ll be good for you to play with some kids your own age. You could probably tell us better than we know. Brain development, all that stuff.” He shifted again to face Spencer better, swallowing at the discomfort he was suddenly experiencing.

“My brain is developed and it will not be good!” Spencer shifted too, in his booster seat. “Please believe me when I say I’ve tried. This is going to be terrible.”

“It’ll be better than you think, Spence. It will. It’ll be fun,” Alex said again. “I promise.”

Hotch took a breath, waiting for Spencer to battle against them again, but the younger boy fell silent. Alex rarely made promises, and never ones she couldn’t keep.

Hotch sighed, turning back around to face the front of the car. His vision swung again and he groaned quietly, rubbing harshly at his eyes and taking exactly one deep breath as he felt the woozy car-sick headache creep across his skull.

“Are we there yet?” He mumbled quietly.

“Three minutes,” Alex said, her eyes locked back on the road.

“Three minutes until I’m forced into social interaction I don’t want or need,” Spencer mumbled quietly, tone no longer accusing or betrayed, but full of ten year old sass.

How Hotch had ever thought this might be a good plan, he had no idea, but now he was forty minutes from school with a grumpy child and a sickly feeling that would probably take an hour to subside.

“Jesus.”

-----

Alex couldn’t stop the nervous feeling that spread in her chest as she guided a very anxious Spencer through the door Hotch had pulled open ahead of them. The playground was different from the one back home, where she took her tiny charges to avoid the summer heat, but also, it was also exactly the same. Slides. Climbing structures. Mats. That weird smell that sort of reminded her of the Chuck E Cheese climbing tubes.

There were kids everywhere, all of them between the ages of eight and twelve. She, Hotch, James, and Dave had chosen a time that would put Spencer right in the middle of the age group; the perfect age to blend in and be accessible to play with anyone.

Twelve was just one year younger than Penelope, anyway, and they got along just fine.

Hotch busied himself with signing, or forging, whatever form needed to be filled out while Alex sat Spencer down on a bench that was out of the way. She dropped her voice low enough that she wouldn’t be heard by anyone nearby.

“Okay, darling, here’s the plan-” she started, but Spencer was quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want a plan. I want to go home,” he said simply.

Alex sighed and smoothed his bangs out of his eyes. “I know,” she started, “but hear me out, okay?” She waited for him to give her a hum of affirmation, showing he would listen before she continued. “You are so smart, and so mature, but your brain has to grow in other ways, too. I want you to be able to play, and imagine, and pretend. So your brain is well-rounded, my darling.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment before he mumbled, “I do imagine.”

“I know, and you play with Penelope and JJ and Derek, but that’s different. You need to play with other kids your age. Just this one time. If you hate it, we never, ever have to come back.”

She waited for him to tell her no again, that he wanted to go home. That he didn’t care what she wanted, even though she knew that wasn’t true.

Instead he said, “Promise?”

Her heart sped in anticipation. Their plan was actually going to work. “Promise. Now there are some rules. Can I give you some rules?”

He nodded quickly. Spencer hated most rules, but when they came from Alex, they were usually designed to keep him safe.

After the incident, he’d do anything to stay safe.

“Okay, first, you can’t tell anyone we’re from St. Thaddeus. Especially you. You’d be in what, fourth grade?” He nodded in affirmation. “Good, if anyone asks, say that. If anyone asks what school you go to, you make them tell you first.”

She stopped for a moment, pulling a small piece of paper out of her bag and handing it over to him. “These are the elementary schools in the area. Whatever they say, pick something else.”

He read them quickly, effortlessly committing them to memory. These were easy rules. “What else?”

“That’s it, baby,” she said, though when she saw Hotch walking up with his backpack slung over his shoulder, tired eyes and messy hair, she retracted. “Actually, if anyone asks who you’re here with, say we’re your brother and sister.”

Spencer’s eyebrows pulled together as he squinted at her. “Why?”

“Because,” Hotch said, now standing directly next to him. He reached down to ruffle at Spencer’s hair. “Most ten year olds don’t have friends that are seventeen. They have siblings that are, though.”

Hotch turned his eyes to Alex, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We’re good to go. The lady said we can go sit in the parents area while he plays. There’s wifi, for your paper.”

“Thank god,” she said, pulling her bag up over her shoulder and holding her hand out for Spencer to take. “Ready?”

He hesitated a moment before grabbing her hand and letting her help pull him to his feet. If he didn’t like it he never, ever had to come back. Alex promised.

-----

Hotch slung his backpack to the ground at the foot of one of the chairs in the ‘parent’s area.’ He and Alex had brought their homework with the hope that Spencer would actually enjoy himself, but there was no way to know if that would happen, and if it did, how long it would last. The sickly feeling that had compounded in the car was starting to ebb, but he still found himself with his head in his hands as soon as he sat down, a deep breath escaping him.

Alex’s body dropped into the chair next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He said, pulling himself back up to sit normally before digging in his backpack, “I’m fine.”

“Oh?”

When he glanced over at her, she was smirking, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Hotch let out a quiet laugh, shoving her shoulder with no force at all. “Don’t even try, Miller. I was turned around in the car. I’m good.”

She nodded, glancing toward the fall she’s seen Spencer retreat to once they’d set him loose inside the play area. “He doesn’t want to be here,” she said simply.

“I don’t want to be here either, but somehow, Dave is right. This… it’ll be good for him.”

“Yeah.”

Hotch sighed again, pulling out his math textbook and spiral before looking around. Alex had busied herself with pulling out her laptop, and he casually pulled a bright yellow RedBull out of his hoodie pocket. He popped the top and took a sip, not sure if it would help the woozy headache, but definitely knowing it would help get him through his math homework.

“Excuse me.” A harsh and pointed voice came over Alex and Hotch’s right side. The woman was exactly what Hotch would imagine the perfect PTA President would look like.

Both teenagers looked up at her, and Alex nodded, “Yes?”

Hotch took a second drink from his can, assuming Alex had it.

“There’s a different watching area for… young parents with toddlers,” is what the woman said. Judgmentally.

As if Alex and Hotch were the bad teen parents of a toddler.

Hotch choked immediately, coughing into the elbow of his hoodie while his lungs tried to breath something that wasn’t lukewarm RedBull. He felt Alex tense beside him, but instead of saying something helpful, she said, “Oh! Oh, no, we don’t have a toddler.”

“Alex!” He choked out between desperate coughs, “No!”

“Oh!” She said again, shaking her head slightly as if to clear the woman’s assumption away. “No, we don’t have any children. Child. No, um.”

She floundered for a second, and if Hotch could have made a comment, he would have made a joke about the Queen of Languages at a loss for words.

“Brother,” is what he ended up managing, slapping at Alex’s arm as she nodded uselessly.

“Brother?” The woman said, an eyebrow raised at the pair of them.

“Yes, brother,” Alex said, lightbulb finally flickering on, “Our brother. Spencer.”

Hotch finally took a deep breath, letting out one last cough before muttering, “Jesus,” and rubbing at his chest.

The woman glowered at them. “Language.” Hotch raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t let up, and he finally muttered, “Sorry.”

The woman took a moment before going back to her spot, face immediately buried in a magazine.

There was silence between Hotch and Alex for a moment before Alex said abruptly, “Do I look like a teen mom?”

Hotch shook his head, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes. “No, Miller, you don’t. Do I look like a teen dad?”

“Chugging that RedBull? Definitely.”

“Oh shut up.”

-----

It was loud. Spencer watched from his spot along the wall as children ran around everywhere, yelling to one another and laughing. Alex and Hotch had abandoned him for the “parent’s area,” though he would argue that they weren’t his parents.

At least they only sort of were. Only a little bit.

He knew what they were trying to do, and he guessed that he should appreciate the sentiment. They wanted him to have a ‘normal’ experience for once. But he wasn’t normal. He’d never been normal. That’s why all those kids used to smack him around and leave him behind back in Vegas. Why would this place - which was full of germs - be any different?

For one second, he considered pretending he didn’t feel well. That was one hundred percent guaranteed to get him out of there and back to St. Thaddeus. Unfortunately, that would also guarantee him being coddled and fussed over for probably the whole weekend, which he didn’t want either.

He spent a while watching, seeing that most of the other boys were dressed in long sleeves and jeans or joggers. He was in jeans, which was normal, but his button down and cardigan were probably not going to help him fit in with the other little kids around him. They looked like they belonged there. They were probably with friends they’d known a while. Who wants to play with the kid in a cardigan who clearly doesn’t have any friends to speak of?

All he had to do was get through this playground session and he’d never, ever have to come back. Alex promised.

What compelled him to start walking along the perimeter of the wall, he wasn’t sure. He was so focused on not tripping over discarded shoes and jackets that he jumped when there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Ah!”

“Ah!” was called right back at him, a small grin on the little girl’s face, “Hi!”

She beamed at him with a smile full of missing baby teeth, pale blonde hair pulled back with a ribbon like Alex would wear. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, slightly out of breath as she bounced on her toes. There were two children standing behind her; one a boy that looked just like she did with short hair like his, and one a shorter girl with hair that was nearly crimson, tied in two braids, and stark green eyes.

They both regarded him with a certain level of hesitance, but the excited girl in the front showed no hesitation at all.

“Are you playing with anyone? I don’t see anyone, so I don’t think you are.”

Spencer felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment, though there wasn’t any sense of teasing behind her words.

“Um, I- no. No, I don’t, well- I-”

“I’m Nell!” She chirped happily, not at all phased by his stumbling and stuttering. “My brother Finn, we’re twins. Twin and Finn even rhyme, so you can’t forget!” She continued happily, and the boy behind her nodded, not offering to speak, and looking a bit shy himself.

Spencer didn’t know any other boys that were shy or quiet. All the boys that teased him back home were loud and rambunctious. Derek, James, and Dave weren’t shy. Dave was sort of quiet, but that was due more to lack of interest than personality. If he was enjoying himself, he was as loud as the rest of them. Hotch was quiet, Spencer supposed, but that was different . Hotch was grown-up quiet. He probably wasn’t quiet when he was a child. Just Spencer.

“And this is my best friend, Lina,” Nell said, never breaking stride and gesturing to the redhead behind her. Spencer had never had a best friend. “Her name is Carolina but she goes by Lina. Finn and I are nine, and Lina is ten. What’s your name?”

Spencer stared at her for a moment before licking at his chapped lips, something Alex was trying to get him to stop. Nell didn’t seem to be teasing him. She seemed to actually want to know his name. She was smiling at him.

Was it a trick? What if it was a trick?

“I’m, um, Spencer,” he said quietly. His hands wrung in front of him, but not one of the three children in front of him seemed to notice. “I’m ten, too,” he added after a moment.

Lina smiled at that. “Really?” She asked. Her voice wasn’t as shrill as Nell’s.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding quickly, “Since October.”

Nell gasped loudly, a hand clutching at her chest. She reminded him of Penelope, in a way, though she was dressed a bit like JJ would. “Lina turned ten in October, too! Finn and I aren’t ten until February though. February tenth. Ten on the tenth!”

Finn grinned, nodding along with his sister before saying in a small voice, “Golden birthday.”

Spencer had no idea what a “golden birthday” was, but Nell was practically vibrating with excitement. He would have asked, but Nell was speaking again, words tumbling over themselves to leave her mouth.

“Do you want to play with us?”

The three children looked at him expectantly, and after a second felt his eyebrows pulling together. He could feel anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“Why?” He found himself asking. Why would they want to play with him? Didn’t they see how nervous he was? Or that he wasn’t dressed like them? Or that he was weird?

What if they decided he was weird and made fun of him?

“Because,” Finn said simply, stepping from behind his sister. He and Nell were taller than Spencer was, but Lina was shorter than them all. “We’re playing pirates and we need another boy.”

“And you were alone and you looked nice, so Nell said we should ask you to play,” Lina supplied, tugging gently at one of her braids with both hands. Her hands we’re looking for something to do. Just like his.

He needed to say something.

“Um, the earliest documented instances of piracy are the exploits of the Sea Peoples who threatened the ships sailing in the Aegean and Mediterranean waters in the 14th century BC,” he offered quickly before realizing that spouting facts was exactly the opposite of normal. They were going to laugh at him. They were going to call him a nerd, or a loser, or-

“You know about pirates ?!” Nell nearly yelled, astonishment on her face. She gestured desperately to Finn and Lina. “Finn and Lina don’t know anything about pirates! Just me! You have to play with us!”

The speed at which Spencer’s jaw dropped could have set a record. “You… you want me to play?”

The three exchanged a look before Finn nodded quickly, and Lina grinned. “Yeah, course! It’ll be better to play pirates with someone that knows about pirates anyway.”

“Come on, come on !” Nell cried, grabbing Spencer’s hand and pulling him behind her as she started to run towards the playground.

His eyes widened, but his feet matched her pace. He didn’t really like her touching his hand, but they wanted to play with him.

Other kids wanted to play with him.

He found himself giggling along with her as she pulled him towards the climbing structure, Finn and Lina laughing and running at their heels.

-----

Alex couldn’t focus on her paper. She’d tried, she really had, but her eyes kept coming up to scan the play area. She couldn’t see the whole thing from where she was sitting, but on her most recent scan she’d lost Spencer. He’d been pacing by the edge of the playground for a while, and she’d allowed herself to look down for just a minute.

When she looked up she was gone, and she’d been on edge ever since.

“Hey, Hotch,” she said quietly, turning to look at him.

He looked exhausted, as always, and was staring at his math book like it had personally offended Haley Brooks.

Alex smacked gently at his arm and tried again, “Hey, Hotchner.”

He looked up at her, foot shifting so it knocked over his empty RedBull can. He swiped a hand down his face before nodding. “Yeah?”

“I don’t see Spencer anymore. Do you think he’s okay?” She shifted in her chair a bit, looking around again to see if she could spot him in his purple sneakers.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he went to go sit somewhere until the session was over. He wasn’t playing last time you looked?”

Alex took a breath and shook her head, resigning herself to the fact that Dave’s idea was not a good one, and she’d now subjected her baby to an afternoon of anxiety and discomfort. “No, he was pacing. Pacing, Hotch. Oh god, why did we do this?”

“We were trying to help,” Hotch offered, “It was a good idea, but Spencer isn’t a normal kid.”

“He’s going to be mad at us.”

“I know. I’d be mad too, if I were him. We did sort of kidnap and lie to him.”

“No,” Alex said, “Dave lied to him. I never said we were going to get ice cream.”

Hotch shook his head, shutting his notebook. “I meant that we told him he was going to spend the day with us. Just us. You know, we don’t really do that unless he’s sick. It’s usually all of us all together.”

Alex sighed and rubbed at her eyes. Hotch was right. Spencer had gotten a lot of their attention right after the incident, but as time had gone on they were trying to wean him away from needing either Alex or Hotch all of the time. Not entirely, Alex’s heart couldn’t take that, but enough for her to work uninterrupted shifts, or for Hotch to spend time with Haley without feeling guilty.

Now? They’d promised their attention and thrown him to the dogs. And he was probably all alone, sitting under some slide. Maybe he was upset or crying and they were sitting and letting it happen.

Alex stood up. “Let’s go get him. This was unfair, maybe we could try it again some other time.”

Hotch nodded, bending down to grab his backpack.

When Alex turned towards the playground once again her jaw dropped. Streaking past and clumsily climbing up one of the ladders was… Spencer.

There were three other kids in tow, and she could just make out his little voice rambling and spouting off facts. Was he talking about pirates? He’d read a book about them recently. All four of them were smiling, and it almost looked like they were having some sort of make-believe sword fight.

With a loud gasp she clutched her hand to Hotch’s bicep. His head snapped up, a small squeak coming from him before he said loudly, “Fucking ouch, Alex!”

“Language!” PTA Magazine Woman all but shrieked from behind them, “Honestly!”

“Sorry!” He called over his shoulder. “Alex, what? What’s wrong?”

“Look! Look Hotch, look!”

“Look at what? I don’t-”

He stopped short as his eyes caught Spencer’s spindly frame, a wide grin on the ten year old’s face. He jumped off of the ladder and called something that sounded suspiciously like “Yar!”

“Is that… Spencer?” He said, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Alex nodded emphatically, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she was overwhelmed with relief.

“Is he… is he playing? With those kids?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching as several tears started trailing down her cheeks. She swiped at them quickly. “Yeah, he is.”

They were both quiet then, watching as Spencer and the others, two girls and a boy, ran around and laughed. Spencer looked happier than they had seen him in a long time, and when Alex looked over at Hotch, there were tears in his eyes to match the ones quickly rolling down her face.

“Maybe,” Hotch said quietly, sniffling suspiciously and letting out a single chuckle. “Maybe this was a good idea.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and clearing the tears off her face. There was a soft smile where her worried frown used to be. “I think it was.”

-----

A chime sounded loudly through the playground space, causing Nell, Finn, and Lina to all stop suddenly and groan.

Spencer looked around in confusion. There was a flush on his cheeks, but not from nervousness or embarrassment. It was from excitement and exertion. “What’s that?”

“The bell,” Finn said.

“It means it’s time for us to be done so the little kids can come in and play. So the big kids don’t run them over,” Lina added.

Nell was grinning wildly, unlike the other two. “But the bell means we get to go to the ice cream shop down the street!” She gasped, loudly. She did that a lot, Spencer noticed. “Wait! Wait! Spencer you should come too!”

“Yeah!” Lina said. She had become less shy as time had gone on, but she was still far less loud and rowdy than Nell. They all were by leaps and bounds. “You should ask your folks if you can come with us.”

“My… folks?” Spencer asked, eyebrows drawing as he squinted. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Finn said, pointing to the parents’ area, “Miss Graff says that you shouldn’t say parents, because not everyone has parents that take care of them. But everyone has folks.”

Spencer felt a warmth spread through him at that, starting at the pit of his stomach and spreading through his whole body. A small smile worked its way onto his face and he nodded.

Maybe he didn’t have parents, at least not at school. Not that could take care of him. But, by Finn’s definition, he definitely had folks. Alex and Hotch fit into that category. And James. And even Dave and Emily.

“Okay,” he said, “I can ask Alex and Hotch. They’re my… brother and sister.”

Nell squealed and took off again, this time towards the parents’ area.

Spencer was right at her heels.

-----

He flew into Alex’s arms, sweaty and sticky and beaming. “Alex!”

Alex wrapped her arms around him from her seated position. “Hi, darling. You look like you had a good time.”

“I did!” He said happily, “I really, actually did. I- I made friends, I think.” His eyes were shining, and Alex had to take a breath to stop herself from crying all over again. “That’s wonderful, Spencer. Are you glad we came?”

“Yeah,” he said. He turned let go of Alex, throwing his arms around Hotch’s neck. “Hotch! We played make believe that we were pirates! No one stopped me rambling, not once!”

Hotch grinned, hugging Spencer tightly. “That’s awesome, Spence. You’ll have to tell us all about it on the drive back.”

“Oh!” Spencer said, letting go quickly. He’d almost forgotten. “Nell and Finn and Lina were going to get ice cream. They told me to ask my folks if I could go too.”

Alex and Hotch shared a confused look. “Folks?” Alex asked.

Spencer smiled widely. “Yeah. That’s what Lina and Finn said. Folks are the people that take care of you, because, well,” His hands clasped together, wringing in his grip, “not everyone has parents that take care of them. But everyone has folks.”

Alex’s eyes flooded with tears again, but she blinked them back, even if her heart felt like it was going to explode from her chest.

“Sure, Spencer,” Hotch said quietly, giving Spencer’s slight shoulder a squeeze. “Sure, we can do that. We don’t have to be back until dinner time. Right, Alex?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah of course we can do that.”

Spencer bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, his fingers pressing against his mouth for a moment before he turned and looked around.

“Nell!” He called at a little girl behind them. Alex found her hand coming up to her own hair ribbon as she spotted the one in Nell’s hair, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Nell turned, a smile on her lips, and she pointed to Spencer before saying something to her mother.

Her mother who just so happened to be PTA Magazine Woman.

Oh shit.

“Come on, Alex, come on!”

Spencer dragged Alex over to where Nell and two other children were standing. Right up to PTA Magazine Woman.

“This is Alex,” he said happily to Nell and the others.

Nell waved happily, the other boy and girl waving with less enthusiasm, but smiles all the same.

“Hi,” Alex said simply, looking up at the woman with anxiety coursing through her entire body. She decided to pretend there had been no awkward interaction at all. That would work. “I’m Alex.”

The woman looked at her with suspicion, then down at Spencer, who was beaming and bouncing with a happiness Alex hadn’t seen in a long time.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the woman said, going along with Alex’s ruse. “I’m Hannah Clark. These are my twins, Nell and Finn, and Nell’s friend Lina.”

“Best friend, Mama,” Nell insisted, and Alex watched as the woman smiled .

“Right, Nell’s best friend Lina.”

Hotch had come up behind them now, his backpack slung over one shoulder and Alex’s now-packed bag over his other. “Nice to meet you,” he said evenly. “I’m Aaron. And this is Spencer.”

Nell tugged at her mother’s hand impatiently. “Mama! Ice cream! Can Spencer and Alex and Aaron come to ice cream with us? Spencer knows everything about pirates.”

Hannah looked Aaron and Alex over for a moment, and Alex felt her heart skip a beat. She’d scolded them on two occasions and originally thought they were teen parents. Which, Alex thought, wasn’t the worst thing in the world anyway. She’d judged them.

“Sure, Nellie, if Spencer, Alex, and Aaron would like to come with us to FrostBite, then they can.”

A cheer erupted from the four children, and a flurry of movement left Alex, Hotch, and Hannah staring after them as they dashed for the door together.

-----

“So, can I ask where your parents are?” Hannah asked them, eyes glancing at Spencer, who was sitting with Nell, Finn, and Lina at their own little table. They were chatting excitedly about pirates still, Spencer spouting everything he could remember and the three others asking question after question.

Hotch shifted in his seat, sipping at the coffee milkshake in front of him. “Working,” he said simply. He and Alex had a hushed agreement at the counter while they fought over who was paying that they would be vague enough to not draw suspicion.

“Ah,” she said. “Do they normally work on the weekends? We’re here every Saturday, and I’ve never seen you before.” Her tone was searching, and Hotch felt his eyebrows draw together as he went on defense.

“We didn’t know about the playground until Tuesday,” Alex said easily, sipping at her own milkshake. “A friend of ours told us about it, he used to come here as a kid.”

“It’s been a great outlet for Nell’s… energy. And Finn has enjoyed it.”

“Does Lina always come with you?” Hotch asked, glancing at the out-of-place redhead as she listened to Spencer ramble about the size of different ships.

Hannah nodded, smiling over at the children. “She does. She has a large family. One of her siblings comes to get her from here on their way home from clubs or work. It’s been a good routine.” She glanced at Alex and Hotch now, raising an eyebrow. “Children need routine.”

Hotch watched Alex nod, feeling something in his chest constrict.

“Of course,” she said evenly. There was a moment of hesitation before she added, “Spencer’s incredibly bright, and he has a hard time making friends with kids his own age. We thought that this might be a good way to get him out of his shell.”

Hotch took a breath, trying to release the defensive, annoyed feeling that was coursing up and down his body. This woman didn’t know them. She had no idea what kind of stress they were under. She didn’t know Spencer.

He felt some of it release when she nodded, giving a very small smile to them.

“Well, if I know anything about my Nell, it’s that she can make anyone feel comfortable. Lina used to be horribly shy.” She nodded towards the table. “Spencer looks like he’s fitting right in.”

“He’s a good kid,” Hotch said. “A great kid.”

“I can see that,” She said. There was a moment before she spoke again. “I would like to apologize. I judged you earlier, and it wasn’t fair of me. It’s obvious you both love your brother very much, and any teenager that would spend their Saturday trying to help their brother any way they could is more than okay in my book.”

Alex smiled slowly, nodding at the woman in front of them. “Thank you,” she said, and Hotch found himself nodding along.

The bell on the door tinkled as it opened, an older girl with hair as red as Lina’s stepping through and grinning at the table of children.

“Oh, Carolina!”

“Ginny!” Lina called, dashing from the table and slamming into her sister’s side.

The older girl laughed and waved at Hannah. “Thanks, Mrs. Clark! I’ll be dropping her off next week. Come on now, a stóirín, say bye to your friends.”

Hannah waved as Lina chirped out, “Bye Nell! Bye Finn! Bye Spencer!”

As they walked through the door, bell tinkling behind her, Hotch could hear Lina say to her sister, “Spencer’s our new friend, he’s really nice,” and all of the tension racing along his body ebbed slowly away.

-----

The first half of the car ride back was a whirlwind of Spencer rambling excitedly, telling them every detail about his time playing with Nell, Finn, and Lina. He was hopped up on sugar and adrenaline, riding the high of Hotch and Alex’s assurance that yes, they could go back to the playground to meet with them next week, and yes, they could get ice cream at FrostBite after the session was over.

By the time they had been on the freeway for ten minutes, he was sacked. His blanket was clutched to his chest as tiny snores escaped his chapped, sugar coated lips. Alex let out a happy sigh as she glanced at him through the slightly crooked rearview mirror. The blanket had been a backup plan in case the outing ended in a meltdown, but now both teens were riding a successful high of their own.

They didn’t need to talk about it. Hotch and Alex both knew exactly how the other felt without needing a single word.

When they pulled into the St. Thaddeus parking lot the sun was already down. Alex pulled her jacket tighter around herself and snagged both bags, taking Hotch’s so he could carry Spencer from the car.

“We’re going to have to wake him up in like an hour for dinner,” he said quietly, shifting so that Spencer’s head was resting against his collarbone.

Alex smiled and nodded, watching Spencer’s chest rise and fall peacefully. The stress that was so often reflected in his face and shoulders was gone, his hands still.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “I know.”

They walked in silence for a while before she spoke again.

“Dave was right.”

“A miracle,” Hotch said, and they both laughed quietly. “Did you think you’d be spending the Saturdays of your senior year going on playdates?”

She shook her head, letting out another quiet laugh. “No way. I figured I’d work in the library. Hang out with James and Dave. Apply to colleges.”

Hotch hummed in agreement. “I’m going to have to talk to Gideon about not being around on Saturdays. At least some of them. You know, when we’re taking him out there.”

“Right.”

As they got to the door of Lincoln House, Alex looked at Hotch and smiled. “They’re going to grill us. Penelope is going to freak out, she’ll be so excited.”

“No kidding. They love him. We all do,” Hotch said, stepping over the threshold and shifting Spencer so he could start up the stairs.

Alex watched his back for a moment before she said quietly, “Yeah. We sure do.”

#great snakes this is long #themetaphorgirl #patron saint of lost causes #fanfic of a fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Criminal Minds #we love playing in someone else's sandbox #Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #Hotch and Alex are mom and dad

[jerrylewis-thekid]

I will try to be as short as possible. For several reasons I feel very close to Jerry Lewis: I am an only child, I saw little of my parents because of their work and, as a child, I played with my imaginary friend the "Fairy of the house". I talked to her and played hide and seek with her. I was raised by my maternal grandparents who lived with us. My grandmother I called her "mom". She died when I was 9. My grandfather died when I was 17. My mother died ten months. After that time, I took heavy tranquilizers to sleep, no longer have scary nightmares and calm anxiety. She was practically a legalized junkie. After about a year I found the strength to throw those crap drops in the trash and I never picked up again. My damned sensitivity has always made things difficult for me. Who is NOT an only child cannot understand what it means to be one. ******** The same morning that, finally, I had the strength to leave my first boyfriend, violent with me both psychologically and physically, I asked a girl next door if I could go out with them. She accepted. Maria (false name) I met her two days later. Right from the start we found each other nice and she began to prefer me to the other three girls (we were a group of 5 girls all single). She was only four years older than me but dressed a bit "like a married woman" as we say. In short, he seemed much older than me. He had green eyes and naturally curly dark hair. I am also brunette but with straight hair (in those days), iridescent gray - blue eyes and, not being very tall, unfortunately I have always shown less years than I am. I followed fashion more than her. I was 25 (but everyone gave me a maximum of 18), she was 29. We bonded immediately, only after a few weeks we went out more often just the two of us leaving the others at home. At the time I was much happier than now, I've always liked to laugh, joke, say funny things, make fun of everything. We were laughing all the time. Gradually she and I began to look a little like each other ... She cut her hair short making it almost straight. I told her not to because her curly hair was beautiful but she didn't take suggestions. He always did what she wanted. I cut my hair into a medium short bob by curling it with a perm or a hair curling iron. In short, I styled them as were his naturals. Without agreeing we often went out dressed in the same colors. Only the style remained different, she never wanted to adapt to fashions. I've never seen her in black sheer stockings and high-heeled pumps. I always wore those. The people in the village were now starting to consider us sisters. When someone we knew met us on separate streets (in the morning when we were doing our errands around the house) he asked her "And where did you leave Artemisia?". Of course, the same thing happened to me too. For the country we always had to be together. In five years of friendship we have never shook hands, we have not kissed my cheek even at Christmas or their respective birthdays. It was just a "best wishes!". Stop. But we liked being in the company of the other. We practically isolated ourselves from the other three and only the two of us were going out. We walked in the public garden, like everyone else, happy hour and similar things were not used in those days. She started inviting me to her house to attend the Christmas Eve dinner and, in the summer she would take me with her and her family (she had a sister, two brothers and nephews) on day trips. I felt that I had found a family and above all that I had found a sister. She began a troubled relationship with a boyfriend, her former friend. One who liked women a lot. It was a story he wanted to keep secret. I cried with her every time she was sad for him, I was happy for her when, the day after a meeting with him, her eyes were sparkling. I didn't need her to tell me that the evening had gone well, I just had to look at her. I understood when she was worried, when she was angry, when she was peaceful. I just had to look at it, it was an open book. One day she asked me if I could be her

assistant. She had been a catechist for 15 years (we are Catholics), she was left alone and needed help. I accepted mostly to do her a favor, I was not so convinced. But I started to like dealing with catechetical children, after all, I always felt like a 10-year-old girl. But Maria did catechism in a very serious way, she never smiled at the children ... She had a friend who was a few years older than her, she was a notary and she was well known and well liked in the village. In my country if you don't have a degree you are nobody. She was already there before me. One day, indeed a bad day, this woman, whom I call Jeanne ... was designated as president of the catechetical group. She was an atheist but evidently this was of little importance. Jeanne immediately chose Maria as her right hand, she became the secretary of the group. And it began to change. With me. We spent less and less time together. Those few times that we went out, Jeanne, Maria and I, I began to discover a Maria that I did not know. The two of them literally made fun of each of the group's catechists, their actions, their families. With a nastiness never seen before. Maria and I used to keep gossip about other people out of our laughter when we went out. I've always hated gossip. But with Jeanna Maria it changed. And it was starting to change with me. Everything I said or did bothered her, she got really angry with me. One afternoon I called her asking if she wanted to go out (we hadn't seen each other for a week) she replied that she had a headache. Ok, I got dressed and went out anyway to go to the pharmacy and take a walk anyway. It was a summer afternoon, a real shame to stay indoors. On the way I met them. I said nothing, I stopped for a few seconds, looked at Maria and she immediately told me, as if to justify herself "Jeanne wanted to talk to me, it was important!" I greeted them without saying anything and went home crying. Okay, do you want to go out with her? Tell me. But don't lie to me, I thought. I can't stand lies. Since then he never asked me to go out all three together. She and I saw each other less and less and when we saw each other she no longer told me anything as she did before. We no longer talked to each other and above all we no longer laughed together. Once I asked her why she had changed with me and she, still in that angry tone of hers, told me that now she felt like an important person, because Jeanne had asked her to help her. That is ... "do you feel important because you ONLY have to pass books, documents and video tapes to the catechists for meetings with the children?" Because that was his job. "Sure" she replied. "She is a notary and she chose me. You don't even have a diploma." "Maria" I said to her, "look, you also don't have a diploma and I remind you that I left school only after my mother's death to stay close to my father". She replied "Here, now you are starting to blame me for everything I have done for you (what ??), I have given you more affection than you ever had from anyone and now you take advantage of it !!". And if he went, he left me on the street. I was making her understand not to leave me alone, to continue being what we had always been and she was accusing me of wanting to take advantage of it. And what about? She did not show up for more than two weeks until the Sunday of the swearing of the catechists in church arrived, which marks the beginning of the catechetical year. It was mid-September. I didn't call her in those two weeks because I was hoping she would calm down. When he got angry with people he didn't accept any kind of clarification. That Sunday morning I didn't want to go to church, I was morally down but I felt that I had to do my duty as assistant catechist. I went to mass. Halfway through mass the rite began. Catechists and assistants were called one at a time to the altar for the oath. When they got to us they called Maria but not me. They passed on calling the next catechists. The church was crammed with children and their mothers who clearly knew both Maria and me.

She walked towards the altar, my heart was in my mouth. My children asked me "Artemisia you are not going?" with a surprised expression on his face. I just replied "I don't know children, maybe there has been a mistake". But I knew it wasn't like that. When she went back to the pew I continued to say nothing to her, she would have been angry with me in church in front of everyone. When the mass was over and we left the church, I approached her, remaining calm and, trying to smile at her in the best possible way, I asked her "Maria what happened, why didn't they call me?". As I expected she got angry, and almost screaming (we were in front of a bar full of people inside and outside) said that I hadn't gone to catechism in those 20 days "and this morning you showed up all dressed up and elegant in church just to be seen by people! ! ". I was stunned ... "Maria didn't tell me I had to come to catechism, I knew that catechism would begin after today's mass!". She said nothing, she went away leaving me once again alone in the street. I was sure he was going to Jeanne's house. I was not wrong. She went into her house, soon after I rang the bell and I too went upstairs. As soon as Maria saw me, she told me a whole series of things that I don't even remember anymore and left all angry. I sat down and burst into tears. Jeanne asked me what had happened. I told her everything. She told me I was wrong to follow her (she was right, I realized later) but added to let her go. "Let things settle", she told me, "give it time." "I'll talk to her and let you know." I'm still waiting. Anyone who knew Maria and me (practically more than half the country) when she asked me what had happened and why she and I had argued (in my small town you don't need gossip newspapers, things are known within 24 hours at most) I always replied "destiny wanted it like this". If I wanted to try to recover something, I knew I had to shut up about everything. Also because she was the best known in town. His father and brother had been in politics for years and everyone knew them. I stayed at home most of the winter. I had immense anger inside me. If I had a gun I would have gone out on the street and started shooting randomly, I wanted to physically harm people. I called the other three girls asking if I could go out with them but I quickly realized it was better to stay at home. The funny jokes I had always said had turned into razors. I offended everyone. Not being able to speak with Maria I treated badly anyone who was in contact with me. I didn't go out with anyone anymore. I locked myself in my shell spending time at home reading, thank God, there was the Internet and blogs. I just wanted to understand WHAT I DID HER. What was I wrong about. Meanwhile, one Sunday morning, in the square, I saw Maria talking to a boy I liked at that time and she knew it. After about ten days I saw this guy in church, he came up and said "I heard you go around saying that I like you (huh ??), you must know that you don't. I like another girl and you know why I like her? she is beautiful!". He laughed and walked away. What Maria said to her to make him say those words I'll never know. The whole winter passed. The whole following summer passed, September returned. I get a phone call, she was the oldest catechist in the group, 65 on paper, ten in the head. I've always loved her since I met her. I call her Tiziana. He told me he wanted to talk to me. I went to his house. She wanted me to be her assistant "I know that you and Maria have quarreled. She is speaking ill of you with all the catechists but I have learned to know you and I know that you are not as she describes you. I would like you with me. Maybe you will also find the way to make peace but you have to stay in the catechetical group ". I asked her what the hell Maria was saying about me. He replied "you better not know". I took some time to decide and finally accepted. Doing catechism with Tiziana was wonderful, it made me understand the value of a laugh. Every encounter with the children was fun and laughter. I

felt more relieved. And more positive. Unfortunately, at the meetings with the group leader and the other catechists, Maria continued to avoid me. Jeanne had been relieved of her post because one evening she had appeared at the church, on the altar, dressed in semi-transparent leopard-print leggings from which black splips could be glimpsed. And with a short shirt that left nothing to the imagination. You can dress however you want when you are elsewhere but if you are in a place of worship you have to respect that place, no matter what place of worship it is. May returned. The usual annual spiritual retreat of the catechists returned. One weekend he closed in a hostel talking about faith and peace in the world. On paper. I decided to go, always with the secret hope of finding a chance to talk to her alone. On the morning of the second day I was going to the reading room. I passed a room with the door open, someone was talking. I immediately recognized Maria's voice, her back was to me (I was standing at the door of the room I was about to enter), she was talking to two other catechists "Artemisia, leave her alone, she's AN UGLY SUBJECT". So he said, a bad subject. I was not a person or animal ... no, a subject. Inanimate. One of the two women saw me, motioned to Maria who turned around, her now usual look full of hatred directed at me appeared in her eyes, she screamed "what are you doing spying on? Go away!". I ran away, took refuge in the nearby chapel, luckily it was empty. I was crying. Finally in the evening I returned home. In the following September I told Tiziana that I no longer wanted to continue with her, I could no longer bear to see Maria. I had to stay away from her as much as possible. Later, I sometimes met her in the municipal villa. Me with other friends, she with another friend. When we met, she always looked down. But I no longer saw her smile. I lost that smile too. 23 years have passed since then. After years I have found a truly sincere friend. She is married but takes the time to go out with me. He is the same age as Maria but looks much much older. More than a sister, it reminds me of a mother. She gives me many small gifts, she also likes to photograph, before the covid we often went out to photograph, spending half days together. She is of Neapolitan origin, therefore cheerful and chatty like all Neapolitans. I feel good with her. He is always there when he "feels" that I need support. In July last year I moved here where she lives, leaving a country too full of bad memories. I know with absolute certainty that I will always be able to count on her. Unfortunately I can't love her. I can not anymore. I feel good with her when we see each other but I don't feel the need, almost physical, of her company as it happened with Maria. And it hurts me. But the betrayed trust does this damage. I don't know why I decided to write this, the story of Dean and Jerry awakened memories that I thought were buried. Here I can write it, on Facebook no. His two brothers still follow me, when they met me on the street (they or their wives) they always greeted me asking how I was. Once one of them gave me a historical book he had written about the town where I lived until last year. Writes from God! He invited me to his house, his wife offered me coffee and sweets, he gave me the book, I wanted to pay for it but he didn't. Nobody took the argument of the fight. I greeted them and left. @zivasanxiety @felinesetmilktea @prolen @jerrylevitch @solsikkepop Something happened once ... "paranormal" ... I am orphaned of a mother, she is orphaned of a father. I don't know whether to write it, I don't want you to think I'm crazy ...

#obviously many other things have happened but it would have turned out to be half a novel. I wrote what I thought was most important. #I will write the same post in Italian and English. I fear that some passages in Italian may change in the translation.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter Two

                  Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Two

Claire emerged from a taxi in a tight black pencil skirt and black high heels as she walked into the upscale restaurant. She knocked on a door with a “espace de rangement” sign on display. The door opened to a nice looking man, impeccably dressed, and she could see her Godfather standing to greet her. He held his arms out for an embrace.

“My darling Bear, it is so good to see you alive and well.” He kissed both of her cheeks and looked her over for bruises. “Quite a scare you gave me yesterday.” He looked into her eyes, “did you arrange for the explosion? The news is reporting natural causes, a gas leak I believe.”

“Certainly not. I wouldn’t put the art at risk like that, besides, I could have done it in my sleep.”

“The news had video of you being rescued, quite terrifying. Do you know the man you were trapped with?”

“Yes, James Fraser. For twenty hours I laid on top of Jamie Fraser and found him to be quite charming and attentive.”

Javier Charvet laughed from his belly and looked at his men enjoying the humor. He pulled a chair out for Claire and sat down next to her. Someone spread a white cloth in front of him while Claire pulled a rolled canvas from her purse. Javier put white gloves on and carefully unrolled the painting where he could examine it under a high powered magnifying glass. He sat up and signaled to his man who left the room, presumably to initiate the transfer of the deed for the Italian property.

“Little Bear, what in God’s name is the Senator doing? I’m talking about his bid for governor announced today.”

“His what?”

Javier looked up with compassionate eyes. “You didn’t know. Has the bastard even called you yet?”

“Yes, yes, I got a call from Mary this morning.”

“And all this time I thought his name was Frank.”

“Mary is his secretary, like his right hand.”

“I know Bear, like I know what grades she got in middle school and that she is a lesbian. I was being sarcastic.”

Javier could see the pain on Claire’s face and backed off. “You must go, I understand. I will have the deed delivered to you in a few hours. Go out through the kitchen, Joseph is waiting to take you back.”

Javier Charvet was a best friend to Claire’s father until the day he died, along with her mother, in a car crash. He tried to get custody of little Claire, but her Uncle Lamb was a blood relative and the courts awarded custody to him. Javier continued to fight for her through the years they were in Egypt and South America, arguing it was no place to raise a young lady. Finally, when Claire was fifteen, the court let her decide where she wanted to live and she chose France with Javier.

Claire did not want to hurt Uncle Lamb, but she was ready to get out of the dirt and sleep in a regular house with indoor plumbing. The warm love and attention she received from Javier was an unexpected bonus and she blossomed under his care. Whenever he saw her, his face would light up and he would call her Claire Bear which was shortened through the years to just Bear. She stayed with Javier through graduate school, leaving for America when she was hired by University of Chicago. That was three years ago.

Claire sat back in the front seat and sighed. She was reeling emotionally after hearing Frank had announced his bid for governor. He never talked to her about it, come to think of it, he never talked about anything. Their relationship felt settled and comfortable from day one, like couples who had spent thirty years together. She couldn’t remember either of them doing anything romantic for the other and suddenly felt like crying her eyes out. What she needed was a day to be selfish and pretend she was someone else who wasn’t saddled with a flatline relationship. She directed Joseph to the retail district and blew him a kiss promising to find a safe way home. She wanted to be free for the next two days and that started with something fun and funky to wear tomorrow.

Javier assigned two of his men to investigate the Senator again. “Find out what projects have his support, who are the major players, who is backing his bid for governor. Find out what master he serves.”

The next day, Claire woke up excited to walk the Louvre. She straightened her hair and added some makeup before jumping into one of her new sundresses. She looked into the full-length mirror and giggled at the strange reflection. The top of the dress was fitted, connecting at the back of her neck leaving her shoulders bare. The skirt had yards of soft fabric that fell just below her knee and a studded belt. The dress was sunshine yellow with silver studs. Nothing could be farther from the tailored suits and conservative colors that filled her closets at home. She smiled and almost skipped out of the hotel to catch a taxi.

Jamie sat at the hotel pool sipping his coffee, and quietly losing his mind. The team spent seven hours yesterday pouring over every art theft attributed to Casper… again, and they had nothing. He took a deep breath and started making phone calls to those he served feeling like he would explode any minute. He had checked the airlines and knew there were no flights to Chicago until tomorrow, so she was still in town most likely. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Fuck it, he thought, let's see if lightning will strike twice. He made his way to the Louvre.

Claire drifted happily through the museum walking close to the Virgin of the Rocks to examine the brush strokes. She jumped when someone spoke to her from behind.

It’s obvious there was a second hand, don’t you agree?”

Claire spun around to see Jamie Fraser smiling at her. There was initial surprise and happy excitement in her face which she covered quickly, turning back to the painting.

“I do not agree. I have always advocated a single hand and it’s the crazy conspiracy theorists who lead people down that road. You should know better than to comment on fine art, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie looked confused by her comment. “I beg to differ madam. I have an art degree after all.”

Claire giggled at the hurt look he concocted, “what kind of degree?”

When she turned back to him and looked up at his face, Jamie nearly forgot to breathe. “Nothing like yours and may I ask how you are allowed to walk the streets of an unsuspecting Paris? How many cars collided watching you walk down the sidewalk, hmmm?”

Claire was laughing at his charm and feeling flattered. “Suppose you do Paris a favor and walk with me?”

Claire looped her arm in his and they walked, admired the paintings, sat and discussed, joked and flirted for hours. Jamie’s knowledge of the masters was surprising and made for stimulating conversation. He had a profound appreciation for the art and artist, much like her own. After four hours they called it a day and went to find a sidewalk cafe for refreshment. Claire watched Jamie look through the three menus at the table and decided to be brave.

“Come on, handsome, this place is too boring.” She spun in the other direction as the wind caught the ample fabric of her skirt and teased it up until she could get a hold of it. They heard a loud crash as a driver struck a parked car and suddenly Jamie’s arm was around her waist pulling her along.

“I rest my case madam. Where is it we are going for more exciting refreshment?”

Claire was laughing at Jamie and feeling bad for the driver, “it’s close and you will love it because they have beer and volleyball outside. It’s quite popular in America.”

Jamie could not get the image of Claire’s legs out of his mind but dedicated himself to being less flirty with her. With a last look at her backside, he let his eyes follow the curves to her feet.

“I can’t believe you can walk the Louvre in heels.”

“I bought flat sandals for today but kept running into walls, so I went back to what I’m used to.”

“Thank God they don’t accentuate your statuesque figure, or perfect posture,” said rolling his eyes, making her laugh again.

She was so easy to talk to, and joke with, Jamie winced remembering her disarming banter in the Louvre that made him a slave to her enjoyment.

“Listen, Sassenach, I am sorry for the flirting, I lost my head with a very pretty girl, who is engaged to be married. I promise to behave like a gentleman while we have a beer and then see you home safely. Right after this…” He pulled her to him and stuck his nose against her neck breathing deeply and releasing her instantly with a happy grin. “You smell like heaven lass.”

Claire was stunned by the cascade of feelings elicited by Jamie’s hug and the feel of his skin against her neck. When he released her she almost fell over, reaching for his arm to steady herself.

“That’s quite alright, it is a lovely scent.”

They entered a dark bar with a rousing crowd who were drinking the afternoon away. The beer was reviving while they talked about their time under the rubble and the mouse that ran up her leg. He asked about her lecture, fascinated by her travels to bring the love of art to the masses. She had been in more countries than he had and entertained him with anecdotes. Sitting in a booth gave her the freedom to look at his face, shoulders, and arms. He was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt that did little to hide his massive biceps and chest. She was careful to look discreetly until the second beer arrived which made it harder to pretend.

“Let’s watch the volleyball for a while, Sassenach, then I’ll see you back to your hotel.”

The fresh air helped to clear Claire’s head and she chose a team to root for. The game was fast and fun and she lost herself in the competition, slapping Jamie’s leg at times when her team scored. She didn’t notice how quiet he had become.

True to his word, Jamie was polite and attentive for the rest of their time together. Inside, he went to battle with the part of himself that wanted a girl like Claire and would be ruthless to win her. His decent side won, and he dropped her at her hotel before kissing her forehead and thanking her for a memorable afternoon.

Claire smiled and waved goodbye. Her glass face always gave the observer a look into her true emotion and Jamie saw her confusion and her interest. He needed to get out of Paris, first thing tomorrow. Go home to Scotland and forget about this time with the Sassenach. It felt like he lost a piece of himself today, a piece that remained with her. It made him feel empty inside.

Claire ordered food in her room and sat on the terrace, thinking about Jamie, Paris, and Frank. If he had given her his cell phone number, she would have called him and talked about her crazy feelings and desire for him. He mentioned the name of his hotel several times that afternoon. She tried to resist the seduction that played on a continuous loop in her mind. If only…

Jamie opened his eyes in a dark room when he felt his bed move and was instantly awake. He smelled her perfume and rolled toward the scent as she turned on a light. She was removing her shoes and then her belt and looked like she might join him in bed.

“Your dress lass.”

Claire twisted the button under her hair and pulled the dress over her head letting it drop to the floor. He pulled her to him and kissed her like his life depended on it. The kisses were sweet and long, building the fire she craved. For the next hour, he felt each curve, tasted every part of her, and pushed himself into her wet softness when she begged him to.

Claire walked naked to his room refrigerator where she stashed a bottle of champagne and a bowl of fresh strawberries. She pushed pillows against the headboard so Jamie could sit up and then straddled him, handing him a glass and placing a strawberry in his mouth. The ground rules were unspoken yet they both knew not to ask or comment on what this was. It just was.

“How is it you move through my door, room, and refrigerator without making a sound lass?”

“I’m a cat burglar,” said with honesty

Later Jamie led Claire to his outside patio with the lights of Paris spread far and wide. He danced with her, naked, holding her close, with a promise of more. Claire was very aware she was dancing with the enemy. The man was obsessed with bringing her down and his life was dedicated to that pursuit. None of it was lost on her so she lived each second with him. They made love once more and he gripped her to him as they fell asleep.

Claire looked up at Jamie’s window before getting into her cab. She would not see him again unless she made a mistake and he caught Casper. She wondered if she could walk away from stealing art for a man like Jamie. The answer was moot. It was the only thing that made her feel alive.

Later, Claire walked to the front desk to check out of the hotel. On her way to the exit, she felt someone pull her back and looked into the eyes of Jamie Fraser. He reached into her purse and pulled her phone out, punching in his contact information. He kissed her soundly and stroked her cheek.

“I still owe you a life Sassenach, and as I said, I’ll be the first one there.” He disappeared into the throng of people leaving the resort and Claire dropped into a couch to slow her racing heart.

Landing at O’Hare airport did wonders for popping the pink balloon Claire was in. She looked out at the familiar sights of home and Jamie Fraser was reassigned to the distant memory file in her mind. Like so many Sorority nights in her past. She felt strong and ready to tackle the remainder of the semester. When she saw Geillis she quickened her step and hugged her friend like her favorite puppy. The two women chatted while waiting for luggage and then heading home. When Claire walked into her townhouse Paris no longer existed. She was back.

Jamie had to get out of Paris before he lost his mind. Another failed attempt to catch Casper and a stunning girl left her mark on him and then disappeared. He made haste getting back to his farm in Scotland where the demands of the land would pull him back to normal. He assigned his top man to wrap up the investigation at Sotheby’s auction house and the report was waiting in is outlook when he got to Scotland.

The explosion was caused by a gas leak, the vault video was disabled by some sort of bright light beam, there were no fingerprints unaccounted for, and the handlers were questioned but added no clues. One female handler said she left the vault for a couple of minutes with Professor Beauchamp to find the audio technician and heard the auto-locking door to the vault slam behind her. As usual, Casper left no leads to follow and disappeared with a Rembrandt worth thirty million dollars. He had nothing.

Claire and Geillis wrapped up the semester in the final month. There were graduate dissertations to evaluate, term papers to read, and final exams to grade. It was a busy month and both looked forward to a summer off. Geillis would spend two months in her pool by day and the clubs by night. Claire would be away most of that time, lecturing, appraising, promoting her book, and stealing art.

She knew she had been in the game too long. Statistically, she was on borrowed time as a thief and when she was caught, she would lose her freedom for the next twenty years. Aside from quitting, she took every precaution including secure communication, the best VPN, encryption security, and a code translator that was owned by Javier because he commissioned the program. There were no back doors installed in the programming, verified by the best security experts in France. He named the program Tom, and no one knew why. Tom was installed on Claire’s home computer and on Javier’s, no one else would use it, see it in action, or ask questions about it. Claire’s heart jumped when she saw the message and she sent it to Tom. Thirty-six seconds later she read the message from Javier and smiled.

“Easy Peezy,” she said out loud as she sent a coded RSVP and agreed to the terms, one point five million in gold. The compensation received for her service had been routed to several off-shore accounts in the beginning and her wealth grew at a staggering rate. Cash felt like an anchor that would sink her in an investigation so she switched to valued properties that would be harder to discover. The gold would be kept in a bank vault locally and used for catastrophic expenses in the future, like hiring a team of defense lawyers. It would cost her two or three hundred thousand just to get it to Chicago, but she would pay it.

Her cell phone played Frank’s ringtone and she felt a boulder in her stomach.

“Hello darling, just touching base about this weekend. Do you have plans for us yet?”

“No Frank, you have not been home since the break started so I will consider you still gone until I actually see you.”

“Alright, fair enough. I have been invited to a private island, owned by a billionaire. The people that are funding my campaign have asked me to go. It almost sounds like a rite of passage kind of thing.”

“Well, best of luck with the upcoming test of manhood, or whatever it is.”

Claire trapped her lip between her teeth and was grinding on it as Frank talked. She was so mad at him and hurt by his estrangement. This was the time of year he spent in Chicago but he was still in Washington with his high-powered new friends that filled his calendar with things to do and people to meet. She tasted blood in her mouth and went back to her packing. Her flight to Germany left in twelve hours and it would be a tense few days once she got there.

Claire paid the admission to the Johannisburg Castle, host to the Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh exhibit. She played with the micro camera hidden in a broach and pinned to her sweater, the remote was deep in a pocket of her trousers. With luck, she would have clear pictures of the employee badges, the security cameras, and the exhibit hall by dinner. Tonight she would finish her fake statue of King Amenhotep III, Tutankhamun’s grandfather who guarded his tomb for millennia before it was discovered and plundered by archaeologists in 1922. The statue would not stand up to scrutiny, but she just needed a few minutes to get out of the building.

Claire plugged a USB into the back of the pendant and downloaded the pictures onto her laptop while the last coat of gold paint was drying on the little statue. She launched her graphics program and got to work, creating an employee badge that would pass at a glance.

Claire noticed the incoming handlers would have their badges scanned before coming into the castle. When leaving for the day, they were scanned to ensure none of the treasures were going home with them. Each piece in the collection was tagged with a liquid that emitted a dose of radiation high enough to be outside the normal range but low enough to be safe. She would skip the scanner and leave through the ceiling, like she came. By midnight, everything was ready, by tomorrow night at this time she would be one and a half million dollars richer.

Claire laid in bed, but sleep would not come. She reached for her phone, launching her contacts. For the hundredth time since leaving Paris, she looked at Jamie’s name and brought the whole evening back to her mind. It was such a sweet sadness that filled her, and each time she did this Frank became less and less important. In her dreams, she slept in Jamie’s embrace all night.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, zjofierose!

For @zjofierose. Happy holidays! Hope you like the story!  

Read On AO3

*****

Painted Roses and Howling Wolves

Derek presses the cloth firmly on the rose painted upon his skin.

“There,” his sister Cora says with a final swipe of her brush through her cup of water. “That should disguise it well enough.”

Derek lifts the cloth, studying the stark lines of the rose. “What if someone turns up with a rose too?” he asks.

It is unlikely that someone could have this same mark considering Cora has drawn it herself, but Derek knows of a few nobles who had been taken in by manufactured marks.

Cora pats at his shoulder. “All you have to do is drip your drink on either their mark or your own to prove that it is false.” She goes on tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Perhaps you should shave?” She rubs at her mouth where his beard scratched her.

Self consciously, he strokes it. Mother had finally agreed that he could grow his beard after yet another noblewoman had mistaken him for his decade-younger brother. “I’ll oil it,” he says. “Will that do?”

“It shall have to. Is there anything else you wish from me before I get ready?”

Derek inspects the rose again, half-expecting it to already be smudged or faded, but Cora is an artist in her own right even if she has to sell her paintings under Derek’s name. It’s still perfect. “No,” he concedes, and then he is alone in his room.

He crosses to the window, throws open the curtains, and stares out at the fresh snow that fell last night. Paths have already been shoveled, and Derek watches as people scurry to and fro.

He wishes he could go out riding today, but he doesn’t want to damage any of the horses by taking them into a drift too large to get out of.

Also, whenever his family hosts a ball, his mother loans out the horses to the nearby nobles.

Derek checks the rose again, a certain paranoia that it’s worn away. He can’t shake the feeling that even though there is no way it’s coming off with anything but some water and a cloth, he’ll be found out and exposed as trying to trap someone else who might have the rose.

It happens whether he hides his mark or not.

It’s probably because more nobles have marks that match or are easily mistaken for each other. Derek’s mark, a howling wolf, is the only one of its kind so far. Most of the balls since Derek was of marrying age have been trying to find his mark-mate. Of course, a lot of the balls have doubled as a status symbol for his family, but Derek can’t help but feel out of place among all the perfumed bodies wrapped in the newest of fashions.

He doesn’t enjoy the idle chattering of useless information, far preferring to discuss weighty matters unbecoming a lord of his position, son of the Baron and Baroness Hale. Some might think he wishes he were above his stature, but then, Derek knows, he’d have far more political events disguised as balls to attend.

He sighs, lamenting, and drapes himself over a chair. He has hours before the ball officially begins, and he is already dreading it.

At least his sister Cora and brother Daniel will be there. If Daniel’s betrothed isn’t present, and she may not be since her father’s lands are farther than should be risked in wintertime, then Derek won’t have to suffer the night alone.

If only he could find someone who would stay with him and chase away the rumours that follow him. Derek knows he could be happy with someone who doesn’t share his mark, but that acquiesce isn’t allowed in the nobility. Either he must find his mark-mate or suffer the whispers that he is broken and unlovable or worse, violent and dangerous, as the rumours have turned to lately.

Derek sighs. Perhaps he can convince his mother to allow him to travel to the village. Surely there is some errand that must be in want of being completed, and with all the servants busy preparing for the ball tonight, none of them should be spared.

A solid plan. Derek rolls down his sleeve and hurries to find his mother.

~ * ~

Stiles leaps back with a yell.

Scott, digging around in one of the cupboard, jerks, banging his head on his way out. “What?” he demands. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shakes his head, throwing a towel over the bowl, hoping that breaking the connection in such a way will clear the water of any vision.

Scott eyes him oddly. “What did you do?” he asks.

“Why do you suppose I did something?” Stiles asks as innocently as he can—that is, not innocently at all. “Why must I have done something for you to accuse me?”

Scott doesn’t answer, instead pulling the towel from the bowl. He looks into the—thankfully—clear surface. He covers it again loosely and goes back to the cupboard, pulling out the coarse flour Stiles’ father had ground for them just last fortnight.

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. How could he describe what he saw? A wedding! And not just any wedding, but his own! He’d been standing in a grand hall, facing his groom, a man whose face Stiles still doesn’t know despite looking for him nearly every day for a year.

He’d been startled when the man had spoken his given name, repeating the vows of the priest. Stiles is not Christian despite living in a Christian land. He and his father are travelers, lost after the death of Stiles’ mother and the death of his home country.

He doesn’t know if he even wants to be married by a priest. Wouldn’t that go against his religion? He and his father haven’t kept with it, too fearful of declaring their heritage too loudly. Many people do not look favorably upon those of a different faith.

So all Stiles knows is that his groom is of Christian faith. He can’t deny that he is disappointed in that fact.

Scott looks up from where he is measuring flour. He points an accusing finger at Stiles. “Were you looking at your future again?”

“What?” Stiles splutters. “No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You only yell like that when you discover a new fact about yourself.” He dusts his hands off, using the towel from the bowl to wipe them clean. “Aren’t you not supposed to use magic like that?”

Stiles shakes his head. “There’s no true rule. As long as I don’t expose myself without cause, there is no danger.”

“Exposure without cause,” Scott repeats. “And what, pray tell, constitutes exposure without cause?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t truly know,” he admits.

“Stiles!”

“What! It’s not like the magic itself came up with that inane rule.”

“No, that was the Queen.” Scott crosses himself as if speaking of that vile woman would summon her to their little house.

When she doesn’t appear to have them arrested for wanton use of magic or speaking her name, Stiles raises an eyebrow. Scott mutters to himself and gets busy again with mixing his dough. He sells the extra loaves to other peasants such as themselves.

This parcel of land is rather well off, the Baron and Baroness bequeathing much of their wealth to keep their people hale and healthy.

Perhaps they do it to make up for all the balls they throw in the Queen’s honor and their middle child, Lord Derek. He is due to be married off if the Baroness can find a suitor for the poor man.

Stiles has rarely had cause to see any of the Hales aside from the annual autumnal festival where they celebrate another splendid harvest, but he cannot get Derek from his mind. He has never been close enough to make out his features, but Derek stands well, strong and broad-shouldered. Stiles often takes a little time with himself after seeing Derek standing stiffly at his father’s side, discussing matters despite being the second son and not in line to take over ruling.

“Why are you making bread so late?” Stiles asks.

Scott sighs, put out. “The ball is tonight, and the Baron and Baroness requested a meal. However, their house is understaffed at this moment. The recent storm kept many of the servants from returning in time, and those that are there are busy with preparations, so I was asked to make a few loaves for them.”

“Makes sense,” Stiles agrees. “Want any help?”

~ * ~

Derek traipses through the fresh snow, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He likes snow better than people. It settles something in him to find a patch of undisturbed area and just study it until it feels like when he breathes in he’s a part of it.

The village surrounding his family’s home is sprawling, space between houses taken up by trodden paths and patches of suspicious water.

Derek is trying to advocate for indoor plumbing, as they are starting to have in the larger towns and cities, but people are afraid of change, especially change suggested by a man who cannot even do something as simple as find his mark-mate.

Derek scowls down at his arm, at the covered mark. If he had not been born with such a distinct mark, he’s certain he could have been married a dozen times over, whether he wanted it or not.

Instead, he is tromping all over the village, looking for the baker who is not the baker on the first street, to collect some of the loaves promised to his mother for the ball tonight.

He was supposed to take a left after the barber, but Derek had seen no barber. Just a butcher. Lost, Derek turns one way and then another. The streets have not been officially named and when he stops a gentleman for directions, he gets a grunt and a finger pointing at a building nearly three houses to his right.

Derek thanks the man, drawing close the servant’s cloak he borrowed, and marching up to the door. He knocks three times and waits.

When the baker who is not the actual baker answers the door, he frowns at him.

Derek is unused to being frowned at. Most who see him recognise him as the Baron’s son and immediately start trying to ingratiate themselves to him.

This man, with his dark eyes and reddened lips narrows his eyes at him. “State your business,” he says.

“Derek,” Derek replies, “from the Baron’s house. Here to fetch some loaves for the ball that is to commence this evening.”

“Oh.” The man steps back, allowing Derek to squeeze by. Their hands brush as the man reaches for his cloak while Derek moves to remove it himself.

Something like lightning passes between them, and he freezes, staring down at their hands. The man has already pulled away, a muttered apology falling from his lips. His voice is roughened, syllables not quite right in the sense that they aren’t as distinctly English as Derek was expecting.

The man must be a foreigner. He speaks well though, so Derek would hazard a wager that he is not a new foreigner.

“Stiles,” the man offers.

“Derek,” Derek says again.

There is a clatter from the baker’s bench.

“Derek?” the real baker squeaks.

Derek nods.

The baker bows quickly, hissing at Stiles to do the same. Derek holds up his hands. “There is no need for that,” he says, aware that he is grimacing. Were he any other noble, he would fair demand it of his people, but Derek is the second son of the Baron and wishes no part in the almost un-Godly worship the people heap upon the nobility.

“Um, the loaves are almost ready. Well, most of them.”

The baker points at the nine loaves lined up on the edge of the table. Derek pretends to inspect them. They’re bread. It’s pretty hard to mess up bread.

Derek knows his mother sent him for twelve loaves, but really, how much food are they planning on serving? Derek knows it’s almost always a full meal. He is usually the only one too nervous and unsure to eat. Nine loaves honestly is probably enough, but just in case, he had better wait for the other three.

“I have time,” he says, and the baker and Stiles exchange a look of dismay. It stings in the same way the whispers that float around Derek do, and self-consciously, he rubs at his mark. “I can wait outside?” he offers. It’s freezing, but Derek would rather spend his time marching around the streets than here where his presence is wholly unwanted.

“No, no,” the baker hurries to assure him, but Stiles interrupts with a quiet, firm, “Scott.”

Derek inclines his head, wraps his cloak a little more firmly around himself and bids both men a good day. He’ll return when the sun drops lower than the rooftops. That should be plenty of time for the remaining loaves to be baked and cooled enough to carry.

Then, he takes his leave.

The door barely shuts before Stiles and Scott burst into conversation, and Derek feels the same tug of pain on his heart.

His family are the only ones who tolerate him.

Perhaps the rumours are right and Derek is unlovable.

He shudders in the wind and then starts walking, keeping the street to his right so that he can find his way back.

~ * ~

“Why did you kick him out?” Scott demands as soon as the door closes. Stiles violently hushes him, certain that Derek is still listening at the door.

“Did you not see his clothing under his cloak?” Stiles snaps. “He is a noble. Why did you not tell me the nobles here gathered their own stock?”

“How was I to know?” Scott retorts. “Normally they send their servants. I guess Hale Manor is short-staffed now.”

“It is nearly Christmas,” Stiles agrees. He knows very little of how the Christians actually celebrate their designated birth of Christ, but he does enjoy some of the traditions like traveling home to see family or having feasts, if able.

He and Scott always go out to his father’s home and help with harvesting ice for summer. Then they sit around the stove and drink spiced cider.

“Besides,” Scott continues, “Derek isn’t a noble you have to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s different. You saw how uncomfortable he got when I recognised him, right?” Stiles nods. “Well, that’s just how he is. It’s just accepted as fact that the Royals were appointed by God, but Derek questions that divine right. He would much rather be elsewhere than at Hale Manor, but even a lord with very little chance to ascend to the throne, he’s expected to perform the same duties as his elder brother and father.”

“And what else of him?”Stiles asks, thinking of the spark that ignited when their hands brushed. He wonders what it means and why Derek’s countenance is markedly familiar even though Stiles is positive he has never seen him this close before today.

“These balls the Hales throw every month? They’re to find Derek a suitor.”

“He is unmatched?” Stiles finds that difficult. Many nobility, even lower ranking ones like Baron Hale, have their children betrothed before they are even out of swaddling. Of course, they don’t marry until each child has grown, but he still finds it surprising to hear that Derek is unattached.

Scott shrugs. He checks on the three loves still baking and decides they are done. He pulls them and sets them on his table to cool. “Most nobles find the match to their marks easily. Derek apparently has the mark of violence upon him, and none of the other nobles wish to marry into that.”

Stiles purses his lips, wondering at that. He thinks of his own mark, a faint outline of a howling wolf. He knows that wolves have been driven from this land long ago, considered far too dangerous to be around people and livestock. He keeps his mark hidden because he does not wish to have the same reputation of a wolf. Perhaps Derek has the same predicament?

There is a gentle rap upon the door, and Scott hurries to open it.

Standing on the step is Derek. Despite his thick cloak, he is shivering quite obviously, and Stiles feels a pit in his stomach open. Without ever having met Derek, he likely treated him exactly as the other nobles around Derek did.

He waits for Scott to invite Derek in, and even then, Derek just collects the loaves, leaves a bit of coin on the table for the food, and turns to go.

“Wait,” Stiles calls.

Derek pauses, looking back over his shoulder with a puzzled expression.

“Have you anyone to go to the ball with?”

“No,” Derek says. “If I had, I do not think there would be a ball.” He looks contemplative before turning back and setting the loaves down. “If you would go with me, I would make it worth your while.”

“And how is that?” Stiles asks. He cuts a glance to the coins. There is enough there for Scott to buy more provisions so that he can make more bread.

Derek follows his eyes. “I have a bit of coin that you may have if you accompany me for this one evening.” Derek rubs at his arm where, presumably, his mark is. Stiles’ fingers twitch, wishing to follow the action. Derek looks resigned when he says, “I only wish for one evening of pleasantness. You may be expected to dance, but please do not leave my side.”

Stiles agrees readily, despite the fact that he has no truly nice clothing and will surely be as out of place as a spring bloom in the dead of winter.

Derek smiles then, and Stiles feels taken. His heart beats wildly to be the recipient of that smile. “Come with me now and I shall find you something to wear,” Derek says, as if he knows Stiles’ very thoughts.

“Can you spare me, Scott?” Stiles asks. Scott doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the loaves and all but throwing them into Derek’s arms and shoving both of them towards the door.

“Have a wonderful time at the ball,” he says, shutting the door behind them.

Stiles barely had time to grab his cloak, and he wraps it tightly around himself. Derek smiles again, small and private.

“Thank you, Stiles. I do appreciate you so for taking time to do this.”

“You are paying me,” Stiles says, but he keeps his voice low, aware that neither he nor Derek need further damage to their reputations. He clears his throat, falling in step with Derek as they make their way through the slush on the streets. “Will your parents be angry at you for brining a male suitor to the ball?”

“They should be so happy that I will have someone that I think they shan’t bother you about what is beneath your trousers. Besides, they have been expecting that perhaps I would settle with a man instead of a woman.”

Stiles chokes on a breath. “Have you been with a man before?” Stiles himself has not, but he finds that he is not opposed to the idea. He only wishes that if he and Derek do end up spending the night engaged in an altogether private dance that he was not being paid for his adventures tonight. It sours the thought considerably.

Derek shrugs. “No,” he admits quietly. “But, when I imagine something like that, I rarely see myself with a woman.”

Stiles blushes. He has dreamed sometimes of his spouse, and as Derek said, it is almost never a woman. Stiles was seeking answers and that is why he has been performing his future-spying spells.

He cuts a quick glance to Derek, wondering his thoughts on magic use. There are people that claim any who use magic are evil, destined to destroy and damage, much as the wolves driven from the land were reputed. In Stiles’ homeland, magic was celebrated, thought of as an extension of one’s self. Here, he is as likely to be put to death for looking in a bowl of water as he is for burning down a Church.

Christians are confusing.

Derek adjusts his hold on the loaves, and extends a hand to Stiles. “I feel you have something very important to tell me,” he says, and Stiles wonders again if Derek has a secret line to his thoughts. “I shall not push you, and whatever you reveal to me will be kept with utmost confidence.”

Stiles lets Derek take his hand, feeling that same spark from earlier. Unbidden, the words rise up in his throat, and it takes great effort to force them back down. He will tell Derek about the magic, maybe, when they are not surrounded by people who may take Stiles’ words badly.

For now, though, he takes the comfort offered by Derek, and follows him to Hale Manor.

~ * ~

Derek drops the loaves in the kitchen and then drags Stiles up to his room where he digs through his wardrobe until he finds a waistcoat, trousers in the same colour, and a shirt that looks as if it will fit Stiles.

Derek brings in Boyd, a fantastic tailor, who makes Derek’s ill-fitting clothing look wonderful on Stiles’ lean and lanky body. There is breadth to those shoulders and the colour of the coat and trousers bring out the flecks of gold in Stiles’ eyes.

Derek averts his eyes when Stiles’ mark is revealed, wishing to offer him the same privacy Derek himself has rarely had with his own mark.

Boyd makes a surprised noise but the covers it with a cough, explaining that he swallowed wrong.

When Boyd is done, Stiles looks amazing. And it is time for Derek to also get ready. The ball shall begin in an hour, and he hasn’t even washed away his traipsing through the snow yet. He helps Stiles disrobe, averting his eyes once again so that he won’t accidentally look at stiles’ mark despite his curiosity. He knows it must be something as bad as his own if Boyd broke composure, and he doesn’t want Stiles to feel uncomfortable here. He is his guest even if Derek is giving him money to attend.

It is worth it to Derek to not have to spend the evening alone, subjected to the rumours excitedly passed about when he moves from one cluster of guests to another.

He reminds Stiles that they are not to be separated when they return from the bathing room and get dressed again. Derek chooses a waistcoat in green, to bring out his eyes, as Cora is so fond of saying. He pairs it with dark trousers and a white shirt. Stiles remains dashing, and Derek ties Stiles’ tie, aware that what is usually perfunctory at best when performed by a servant is made doubly intimate by the fact that whenever he gets too close to Stiles’ skin, there’s a crackle of electricity that makes him think of static shocks, when two things with too much charge interact.

He finds that, aside from the fact that the shocks are getting a little more painful with each discharge, he doesn’t mind it.

Stiles, on the other hand, seems more and more uncomfortable. By the time Derek is done, he is shaking.

“Are you all right?” Derek pours a glass of water for Stiles. He accepts it, sinking onto a chair to sip at it.

“No,” he finally says when the glass is half empty. He looks absolutely miserable. “Derek, I am magic.”

Magic? Derek presses on his mark. Isn’t everyone a little magic? He knows some people are afraid of what they don’t know, and magic falls into that category.

“And?” he prompts, certain that there must be more.

“And that’s it,” Stiles says, spreading his hands. He’s holding something else back, but Derek isn’t in the habit of forcing people to divulge secrets. He knows what it’s like to hide things.

“Well. It’s almost time that we go down to the ballroom. Do you feel well enough to accompany me?”

Stiles nods tightly. Derek sets aside the glass and offers his arm. Stiles accepts with a smile.

It isn’t until they’re already in the ballroom, glasses of punch in hand as Derek takes Stiles around the room, introducing him to his brothers and sisters that he realises he never told his parents that he was bringing someone. He hopes there aren’t many suitors to turn down.

“Derek,” his mother says disapprovingly when they stop to pay their respects to the Baron and Baroness.

“This is Stiles,” Derek says, in an undertone, aware that there are people staring at Stiles, trying to place him in their noble world. “He agreed to accompany me tonight.”

Mother hides her puzzlement well, accepting Stiles’ bow as proper greeting. She gives Derek a look that tells him he will have to explain later, but she allows them to continue circulating. Stiles appears overwhelmed and nervous, so Derek takes him to a corner and settles him next to Cora and Isadora, his other younger sister, who are discussing the best methods of shipping paintings throughout Europe.

His sisters immediately draw Stiles into the discussion especially when Isadora recognizes Stiles’ accent as coming from an area of Europe currently under mass migration, although, judging from Stiles’ mastery of their language, he has spent the past several years here.

Derek is content to stand over them, fetching drinks and a few bites to eat as required, but almost as soon as he steps away, his mother draws him towards the center of the floor to meet with a few suitors. Obediently, Derek draws up his sleeves and shows off the rose Cora painted so many hours ago.

His mother becomes enraged although she hides it well, while none of the suitors have a match to either Derek’s false or true mark.

The evening wears on thusly.

~ * ~

Stiles looks up when a young man joins them. He was expecting Derek to return with a drink, as Stiles’ first glass is long empty, but Derek appears to be busy with his mother.

The life of a noble.

“I’m Daniel,” the man says, shoving his hand in Stiles’ space for a quick shake.

“Stiles,” Stiles returns. He is perhaps shorter than he means to be, but Daniel looks delighted.

“So you are who Derek dragged here. There’s rumours that you are a noble from another country.”

“I’m afraid not.” Stiles smiles.“Just a simple peasant who immigrated a number of years ago.”

“Stiles was telling us of his life in Galicia.”

“Isn’t there some unrest there?” Daniel’s brow creases. It reminds Stiles of Derek, and he glances about the room, but he cannot see the man anywhere.

“There is,” Stiles confirms. If they talk much longer on this topic, the Hales will discover that he is not Christian, and Stiles hasn’t known any of them long enough to ascertain whether he will be safe if that information is divulged.

Their conversation doesn’t get a chance to resume because somewhat loudly, a lord and lady at the table next to them make exclamations of disgust.

“I don’t see why we keep trying,” the lady says, harshly. “They know that something is wrong with that boy.”

“Why they seem to think we don’t know it is beyond me,” the lord agrees.

Curious, Stiles leans a little closer, wondering who they are disparaging.

He gets an answer soon enough when he sees Derek walking towards them stiffly, holding Stiles’ drink in his tightly clenched fist while his mother and another lady, closer in age to Derek than his mother, walk with him.

“If you would just allow your mark to be seen,” Derek’s mother says, not softly enough to remain unheard.

“A mark like Derek’s can only mean violence,” the younger lady says, not quite as quietly. The Baroness shoots her an angry glare. The lady seems unaffected, continuing, “Just because wolves were driven out of England a few hundred years ago, it does not mean that we don’t remember their destruction and havoc. We only have to listen to stories from other countries to remember just how vicious wolves really are.”

Derek reaches them, hands Stiles the drink, which Stiles immediately sets down, and turns on his heel. His face is red, mouth in a thin line. He appears close to tears, but Stiles isn’t sure why he thinks that. No one else, aside from Derek’s family, appears bothered by the swelling of voices clamouring around Derek as he makes his way to the grand staircase.

Without quite meaning to, Stiles finds himself on his feet, throwing wide his arms and drawing on the magic he can feel running through his body. He uses it to throw his voice, amplifying it until it drowns out the noisy crowd.

“How dare you!” he shouts. “How dare you claim that someone is violent and dangerous when you know nothing of them?” He rolls up his sleeves, showing off his own howling wolf. “I know danger; I’ve seen men do dastardly things. You hate your Baron’s son because he bears this mark?” Stiles slaps his arm and his wolf leaps from his skin, settling down onto its haunches in front of Stiles. The wolf is nothing more than an apparition, barely tangible enough to see. Still, people recoil at the sight of it.

On the steps, Stiles sees Derek pause. He turns slowly, staring at the wolf. Consciously or not, he rolls up his own sleeve. Stiles is most disappointed to see that Derek has a rose, not a wolf, on his arm. Then Cora pushes past him, the discarded drink in hand. She uses a handkerchief procured from somewhere, dips it in the drink, and scrubs harshly at Derek’s rose.

The ink wipes away, leaving the image of a howling wolf there.

Derek touches it and then jerks back when a wolf bursts forth from his arm. Derek’s wolf doesn’t sit at his feet. No, it marches right up to Stiles’ wolf, touches noses and then settles there, both of them just waiting.

And still the nobles sit silent.

Derek moves to Stiles’ side, laying his arm atop Stiles’ so that their marks are pressed together. The wolves touch noses again and fade away to nothing.

“How wonderful!” Derek’s mother exclaims. “You have finally found your match.” She takes them both by the arm and leads them to the grand staircase. “I wish to announce the engagement of my son Derek, son of James, Baron of Beaconshire and his betrothed, Stiles of Beaconshire.”

The Hale children break into loud cheers and clapping, and grudgingly the nobles join in. Neither the lady nor lord who had spoken so disparagingly of Derek do anything.

The Baroness leans close to Stiles. “I would thank you not to do magic among our company again. I can convince everyone that it was simply part of the mark-mating, but I cannot protect you if word gets out that there is a sorcerer in our midst.”

Stiles is lucky, he knows, that the Baroness is ready to fight for him already when she doesn’t know him and was displeased with Derek bringing him in the first place. He can understand and respect her wishes to not perform more magic.

He won’t stop, of course. He’s spent much of his life learning what he has. He won’t put it away, and he hopes that bearing the same mark as Derek means that Derek will understand that magic is literally in Stiles’ blood.

They cannot be together if it turns out that Derek agrees with the persecution of magic users.

Derek takes Stiles’ hand, twines their fingers together. “Would you dance with me?” he asks softly. In the request, Stiles hears just how upset Derek still is but also how soothed he is to have found his mark-mate. Stiles looks around the room, at the unfamiliar faces all staring woodenly back at him. He would rather not, but he also does not want to reject Derek so quickly.

Perhaps one dance won’t be so difficult.

In answer, Stiles tightens his grip on Derek’s hand and leads him down the stairs and onto the cleared area. “You should know,” he whispers as they take their positions, “I am neither known for my grace nor my prowess in dancing.”

“That is quite all right,” Derek returns easily. “I am known as a brute despite the fact that I have never once lost my temper.”

Stiles smiles.

~ * ~

One dance turns into many, and by the time dinner is called, Derek is thoroughly enamored with Stiles. Not that he wasn’t before, but there is something genuine now when before Stiles was hiding a part of himself.

Derek would guess that it was the magic, but he also suspects that Stiles may not share the same faith as most of England.

He is proven correct when Stiles questions the food, and based on Derek’s answers, only eats the bread that his friend made.

Once done with that, and because Derek has disregarded his parents’ attempt at finding him a suitor, the ball drags. Neither Stiles nor Derek is much in the mood for dancing anymore, too busy conversing on the finer points of suppression of peoples. Derek thinks war is brewing, and Stiles knows it, from the way he speaks.

“I will still pay you,” Derek says at the end of the night when he and Stiles are in a carriage being ferried to the village. Daniel and Cora both begged to accompany them as chaperones, and Mother granted it.

He has the bag of coins Stiles more than earned sitting in his lap. Stiles has barely glanced at it all night, flushing whenever his eyes fall to Derek’s lap.

“I shouldn’t,” he says demurely.

They dance around it for another few minutes before Daniel, always impatient, bursts out, “For land’s sakes, Stiles, just take the damn thing. Call it a dowry for becoming a part of the family.”

Stiles blushes harder but he doesn’t give the coins back when Derek hands them to him.

“It doesn’t make you any less,” Derek says quietly. “If anything, it’s more. It’s an apology for how things turned out.”

“I haven’t minded,” Stiles says. “But are you certain you wish to still pay me?”

“I am. After all, what kind of a husband would I be if I did not give you a purse to do with as you please?”

He smiles, to take the bite of the words out. Stiles nods solemnly.

“And am I to be just a husband, or will I continue as I have?”

Stiles is an apprentice at the apothecary. It is the perfect cover for his magic, Derek thinks. If Mother hadn’t declared the wolves to have been a part of exposure of the mark-mate, Derek thinks Stiles could have hid behind the potions of the apothecary.

“You shall do whatever it is you desire,” Derek says. “And if you need more money to do it, let me know and I will procure it for you.”

They reach the door of Stiles’ friend and before Stiles steps out of the carriage, Derek gently lays his hands upon his face, tilting it ever so slightly until he can slot their mouths together.

The same electricity from their first touch sparks over his lips, and when he pulls back, he feels as though they are swollen and reddened, announcing to all that he has just kissed his mark-mate.

Stiles looks at him, fondness softening his face. “Good night, my lord,” he says and slips from the carriage.

Derek looks to his brother and sister, who are both busy pretending to have a conversation, but Cora is talking of a painting and Daniel is speaking of the holly bushes that will need to be trimmed in a few days.

Derek settles back in his seat with a smile. He strokes a finger down his arm, tracing the lines of his mark. From outside the carriage, they hear Stiles slam into the door of his friend’s bakery, a bitten off curse following.

Then Derek’s own mark tingles, the feelings of fingers tracing his mark though he stopped when they heard Stiles.

He smiles to himself, glad for the connection. It makes him happy that Stiles has accepted his mark. It makes it easier to accept his own.

And later, they discover just how sensitive and strong their bond is each with their hands on their marks and a different, matching appendage.

~ End ~

#zjofierose #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[thepapercutpost]

Female Artists Fighting For Their Due Are Not Being Greedy; They’re Defending the Futures of Their Industries

Both Swift and Johansson have incited high profile disputes, and both have been called by critics the “wrong person” to serve as the figurehead for the big picture arguments based on how much money they make... Actually, it makes them the best voices for their causes.

"Scarlett Johansson" by Gage Skidmore is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 (left). "File:191125 Taylor Swift at the 2019 American Music Awards (cropped).png" by Cosmopolitan UK is licensed under CC BY 3.0 (right)

In May of 2010, Iron Man 2 introduced Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

A few months later, Netflix—whose subscribers were, in majority, still receiving DVDs—began offering a standalone streaming subscription independent from its DVD rentals. It wasn’t until nearly ten years later that Disney, parent company of Marvel Entertainment, would launch its own streaming service, Disney+. And in 2021, after three pandemic-related delays, Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff’s solo film which fans had been demanding for 11 years, was finally released.

The long-awaited film garnered $80 million in North American theaters during its opening weekend, more than any other film released during the pandemic era. (In comparison, MCU’s last pre-pandemic release, Spider-Man: Far From Home, made $185 million). Because of the somewhat mercurial state of indoor gatherings around the world, Disney chose to make Black Widow available simultaneously in theaters and for an additional $30 fee for Disney+ subscribers. After opening weekend, in an unprecedented move in streaming service transparency, Disney revealed the film had grossed $60 million through Disney+’s Premier Access feature.

The next weekend, the film suffered a 67% drop in box office sales. Disney has not since released streaming numbers.

Within a month, news broke that Johansson was suing Disney over the film’s hybrid release. Her suit claims that her contract for the film guaranteed an exclusively theatrical release and that her compensation was largely tied to box office revenue, which was impacted by the film’s simultaneous availability on Disney+. The breach of contract is a serious allegation against the company, and it comes from the embodiment of one of the longest-standing pillars of its most successful franchise.

Disney’s response? Make her the bad guy. Paint her as the greedy, insensitive Hollywood prima donna. Publish her salary to prove it, despite a policy of “never publicly disclos[ing] salaries or deal terms.” And blame the pandemic.

In a statement, the company claimed Johansson’s suit had “no merit whatsoever” and called it “especially sad and distressing in its callous disregard for the horrific and prolonged global effects of the COVID-19 pandemic.”

Their argument here is twofold: 1) the pandemic prevented them from releasing the movie in theaters, and 2) she should be happy with the millions she has already gotten.

We have all had to make concessions due to the pandemic, albeit most of us on a smaller scale. But Disney’s sudden overwhelming concern for public health and safety is less than convincing. Their claim that they couldn’t have released the film in theaters proves baseless on account of it, well, being released in theaters. What they seemingly meant was that the pandemic meant a smaller payday from movie theaters, so they found an additional method of distributing the film that just so happened to free them of the obligation of splitting its revenue with the star, not to mention movie theater companies.

Appealing to the sympathies of the billions of people in the world who can’t even fathom the amount of money Johansson and her movie star peers earn for each film they make is a slightly smarter move. After all, a jury who decides whether she wins her case will likely consist of non-millionaires who may be biased against a woman who out-earns them by two or three digits. Regardless of the amount of money in question or the wealth of the individual, a deal is a deal, and a written contract is legally binding. The bottom line is that Disney failed to honor the agreed-upon contingencies (ie. a theatrical release). Not to mention, this argument expects us to forget that Disney itself is a conglomerate worth hundreds of billions of dollars, hardly a poor, innocent victim of a rich woman’s greed.

In fact, Disney’s mentioning of “the $20 million she has received to date” only broadens the scope in Johansson’s favor. She is a Tony winner, two-time Oscar nominee, and one of the highest-grossing actors in box office history. If she retired today, her entire family would be able to live a life of luxury for generations to come without having to work a day. So why nitpick over the extra $50 million or so she could have earned with a theaters-only release, cause a Hollywood-sized fuss, and risk the company dragging her name through the mud, as they so predictably did?

Let’s ask Taylor Swift. The singer-songwriter shot to international superstardom in 2008, making her the face of pop music. In recent years, she has fiercely advocated for artists’ rights after experiencing her own long and ultimately failed attempt to buy back her master recordings from Big Machine Label Group, which was acquired by music manager Scooter Braun in 2019.

Similarly, Johansson’s representatives attempted to reach out to Disney after the announcement of Black Widow’s hybrid release, which could possibly have amended their agreement and avoided the lawsuit altogether. But, like Swift, she was ignored.

Swift famously writes her own music, often from her own experiences. Scott Borchetta, founder of Big Machine, claims that she had the opportunity to own her masters, but, from both his account and Swift’s, the offer was contingent upon her staying with the company. Seeing as doing business with his company was what landed her in this situation, she was not willing to accept this condition, nor did she later accept Braun’s offer to buy back her music, a deal from which Braun would have profited and which came with its own condition: an NDA.

Her claim that Braun’s deal “stripped [her] of [her] life’s work” ignited a highly publicized feud not just between Swift and Braun but between their friends, loyalists, and supporters. Swift’s team shared her stance on artists’ rights while Braun’s defended his nice guy image. Braun himself didn’t comment, instead allowing his allies to take shots at the singer. His wife, Yael Cohen Braun, in an Instagram post referred to Swift as a “bully” and to her claim as a “temper tantrum,” telling her, “the world has watched you collect and drop friends like wilted flowers.” Justin Bieber, a client of Braun’s, suggested Swift's intention when expressing her disgust over the deal was “to get sympathy.”

Even after selling her masters to a private equity firm for $300 million in November 2020, Braun continues to profit off every CD and every stream of every song from every one of the six studio albums Swift recorded while she was signed with Big Machine, an agreement she first entered into at age 15.

Where Johansson is clearly in the right legally, Swift is morally right. Borshetta and Braun were under no legal obligation to sell her the rights to the songs she wrote and created, but they should have.

Both Swift and Johansson have incited high profile disputes, and both have been called by critics the “wrong person” to serve as the figurehead for the big picture arguments based on how much money they make. Two multi-millionaires are hardly the best representatives of the little guy trying to make it in the entertainment industry. It’s no skin off either of their noses if they don’t revolutionize the way artists and actors are paid.

Actually, it makes them the best voices for their causes. The millions of dollars at stake in each of their deals, while massive amounts to the average onlooker, would be a drop in the bucket of their wealth. Yes, they both have huge platforms and established fanbases they can use to garner support, but the fact that they have no skin in the game is their real strength. They don’t need the money, which proves they’re not doing it for themselves.

Disney is trying to hide behind the pandemic to defend its decision to release Black Widow on Disney+, but the issue was present even before the pandemic started, evident in Johansson’s agreement that the film have an exclusively theatrical release. Her suit claims she insisted upon this contingency when the streaming service was launched.

Streaming changed the game. Johansson is likely not the only one to have lost out on media companies’ failure to compensate talent fairly in the wake of the streaming evolution, but she is the first to draw the amount of attention to it that she has. Her claim opens the eyes of fellow actors, film distributors, and the public to an issue that extends beyond her: if the film industry is capable of adapting their content to this new source of distribution, then they can accommodate the role of actors into the changing environment and pay them, and other individuals who make their films possible, what they’re owed.

Record companies can stand to shake things up, too. Contracts that grant an artist’s masters to the labels that produce their music, such as the one Swift signed with Big Machine in 2004, are the norm in the music industry. Hers is far from the first battle to be fought by artists over the rights to their own music. There was the famous Paul McCartney v. Prince debacle in the 1980s, for example. In most cases, revenue is doled out to the label, the producers, the managers, and, last and least, the artists. It’s a system that assumes the performers are just lucky to be there, to have the opportunity to become the next Taylor Swift.

But streaming isn’t just for the movies—it’s changing the music game, too. Artists used to be entirely dependent on record companies to promote their music and get it into the hands of radio stations, but streaming sites and social media have allowed artists to release music independently. Working with a record company is still highly advantageous to an up-and-coming artist, but the other options available to them leave some breathing room for an artist to negotiate and retain the rights to their own music.

So, will wins for Swift and Johansson mean making two rich people richer? Yes. But it also starts a conversation. It gets the word out to young artists and actors that they should expect more from the publishers and executives they work with. And it sends a message to CEOs and big corporations: change with the times.

Since leaving Big Machine, Swift has signed with Universal Music Publishing Group in an agreement that guarantees her the rights to the music she creates with them, from Lover on. She is also in the process of re-recording her first six albums, an endeavor that began with Fearless (Taylor’s Version) in April and will continue with the scheduled release of Red (Taylor’s Version) in November.

“Hopefully, young artists or kids with musical dreams will read this and learn about how to better protect themselves in a negotiation,” Swift wrote in a post. “You deserve to own the art you make.”

#opinion #entertainment #business #feature

[thelittlestcheshire]

Self Para 006: But It'll Be a Long Road Together Word Count: 1734 words Note: I’m as emotional in the club over this as Ches is, in all honesty. This is considered mostly fluff, I think? It’s fluff in my definition of it, at least. If anyone has any questions, please feel free to dm me, but I’m pleased to welcome Clover to the Luxor family. TWs: None! I know, it’s a mcfreaking first for me.

After all of this time, Ches couldn’t believe today was the day. When had they started this process? How many times had they sat down with the administration to discuss things, how many months had she talked to a trainer and breeders and looked for a suitable candidate to ensure that they were setting her up for success? Even now that Ches was finally going to bring home her service dog in training, it was hard to wrap her head around. She was finally taking that next step. All those months of research and working towards this had finally led her here, and she was excited.

She knew it was going to be hard work; she knew that, but she kept running through the list of things she needed to do today. She’d gotten her dorm room completely puppy-proofed, and the lake house and she’d already had plans in place for places like Elliot’s room, and when she dropped by The Driskells’ rooms. Toys, travel bags, the crate set up. Now all she needed was the dog.

“Are you nervous or excited?” Emmett asks her as they drive. She’d considered asking Zander, or Balo, or even Elliot if they’d go with her, but she was glad that he’d said he could go. She didn’t have to drive, which she appreciated, because that meant she could focus on Clover on the way home.

“Both.” She answers, honestly. “Excited this is finally happening, nervous I’m going to fuck it up. A lot of owner-trainer’s first dogs wash...”

“You’re not technically owner-training,  you have a professional who specializes in service dogs helping you every step of the way. With how much this means to you, I’m not worried about it.” Emmett brushes off, and while she knew he had a point, she was fortunate to have so many tools at her fingertips, guidance she knew people would kill for, hell the fact she was even fortunate to be in the position that Luxor was allowing to have a service dog in training on campus - that she had an extremely strong support system there with her in the process. Yet, there was still that voice reminding her that if she fucked up - her dog would wash. There was a chance her dog could wash even if she did everything perfectly, and she was going to have to live with that if it did.

But that was only more motivation to do her best. “Everything could be stacked in my favor, and we could find out in two years she’s just not suitable for this line of work. There’s a lot to keep in mind.” She reminds him as she reaches forward to turn up the music. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“I wanted to talk to you about prom anyway...” Emmett shrugs, and he starts to ask her questions about the event as he drives, and she answers them. It wasn’t hard, she’d actually enjoyed prom. Other people having dramatic falling outs wasn’t her business and while she had friends involved in the chaos, it wasn’t really her business unless one of them brought it up to her. She could comfort them without getting in the middle, right? And she doubted Sav, Maddie, or Marcello wanted her in the middle, and if they did, they’d tell her about it themselves. So, she’d turned it all off, focused on Elliot, tried not to panic despite the fact chaos made her uneasy. Chris and Alek being missing was already concerning enough to make her sensitive to that sort of thing, so it was better not to acknowledge it. Plus Elliot was amazing at grounding her, he always made events easier to survive through.

When she got her service dog fully trained, it’d be even easier. Elliot couldn’t always be there, no matter how much she appreciated him. This was a good thing, she knew that. Her doctors wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.

Now she just had to hope she wouldn’t mess this up.

—

“You know when you said you were getting a puppy, I expected her to be younger.” Balo points out when she comes to visit for the first time.

“She’s only 12 weeks you know, she went to my trainer’s home first, evaluations, wanting to make sure she’d actually be a fit for me.” Ches shrugs, “apparently it’s easier to test her if they’re living with her for four weeks or something.” And she didn’t mind the help honestly, Clover seemed to be doing well with the crate so far. Although she was still working with her on that just in case - after all, it was better to make sure she was actually okay for when Ches went to classes, as Clover wasn’t ready for that kind of environment.

Honestly, she probably wouldn’t be by the time Ches came back to school in the fall, either. But it was a work in progress, and at least she had Luxor working with her in the meantime. For now, the focus was on making sure Clover was an obedient puppy. Tasks, public access, those were hurdles for later in the summer, maybe even fall. Right now the priority was getting the housebreaking down, and the at-home behaviors, before she worked up to seeing if she could get Clover to pay attention to lessons in outdoor dog-friendly places, and then eventually moving up to indoor dog-friendly places, so on and so forth.

“You’re clicker training.” The blonde notes, gesturing to the clicker beside Ches. “That seems like a good plan honestly, positive reinforcement and all.”

“She’s food-motivated, makes my life easier. Good girl.” Ches gives Clover another piece of kibble from her pocket as the golden retriever chews on one of her own toys, ignoring the look that Balo is giving her. “My trainer says we should reward desired behaviors. I desire her to calmly chew on her own toys, and yes, this is what she meant - she specifically told me to reward her for this. She’s technically earning her lunch by just doing dog things I like so... She shrugs. It seemed like an effective way to handle it so far honestly. “Training sessions for breakfast, puzzle-box for dinner, it’s been working really well so far.”

“When do you guys start on tasks?”

Ches shrugs, “the first step is the foundation work, the second step is starting to teach her tasks, third step is protecting her mental development until she’s old enough for full-time work. Fall, I think? But I won’t be able to rely on her that much for a long time. Her brain won’t fully be developed until she’s two.”

“That’s so long, I guess it makes sense though. Why’d you start with a puppy though? Wouldn’t it be easier to go through a program or start with an adult dog for it?” Easier was a word for it, definitely, but as much as she wished she could speed up the timeline there really wasn’t much of a chance to do that. Not with what Ches needed from a service dog, Clover needed to work with her, and they both needed to work with a trainer, and the best chance of success really was with a puppy so here she was.

“I need a psychiatric service dog, and every trainer I’ve seen online, or in person, all agreed that they need to be owner trained. Plus, programs really don’t do much for civilian adults anyway. They only like working with minors and veterans.” She explains, “so here we are, owner-training with the help of a private trainer who specializes in this specific type of service dog. And since I’m so lucky I’m even able to do this at all, my lucky Clover.” She gestures to the dog, turning her attention back to Clover.

Oh no, she shouldn’t have glanced away and Ches immediately reaches for a toy and whistles to get the dog’s attention before she could actually get into trouble. The puppy comes running over, and Ches starts to play with her again as she listens to Balo respond; “oh! That makes a lot of sense then. So you are going to be working with her on the foundation stuff like sitting and staying and stuff over the summer and then you’ll move onto task stuff?”

“Yup! Basic puppy stuff, staying focused while working with me, behaving on a leash, working in dog-friendly locations, socialization, that sort of thing, and the start of tasks but nothing she’s expected to actually do at this point. Like I could start deep pressure with her but not in actual situations she’d actually need to do it because she’s nowhere near old enough but we’ll get to that when she’s a bit older.” She continues to play with Clover, “I’m hoping I’ll be able to commute next year, that way it’s a bit easier. She’ll have more room to play and stuff, less people going in and out, that sort of thing. But, we’ll see.”

“You’ll still hang out with us if you commute, right?” Balo asks as if that was ever a question. For a moment, as she continues to play with the dog, she glances at the blonde.

“Of course I will, you’re one of my best friends. I’ll leave the Mercedes with Zander if I have to.” She technically was already doing that, anyway. She turns her attention back to Clover quickly before she continues. “No matter what changes next year, you’ll still have me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She can hear Balo heading towards the door to her dorm’s door. “I’m going to leave you two to it, but thank you for answering my questions.”

“Thank you for coming over.” Ches knew Balo wasn’t a fan of dogs, on average she tried to avoid them, and Zander had warned her a golden retriever especially could set Balo off, but, she appreciated that Balo had come over and tried at the very least, even for a short while, to be around Clover and ask some questions.

“I’ll see you later!”

After Balo’s gone, Ches grabs a second toy so she can alternate between them now that Clover had her undivided attention. She knew this was going to be a long road, but she was on the right path. She was just going to hope she remembered that when things got rough again.

#it's so fucking weird not to tag tws on a self para #I mean thanks Ches but Katie.exe is like ????? #musings ( elswood family ) #when i'm with you i am healing ( clover ) #a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you ( self paras ) #all of my heroes died all alone ( musings ) #all you cool people better leave now 'cause it's about to happen ( balo | zander ) #Emmett Elswood

[carmichealroyals]

THE PRINCESS AND THE PHOTOGRAPHER: HRH PRINCESS DIANA AND NICO TABOR SIT DOWN FOR FIRST INTERVIEW AS AN ENGAGED COUPLE

This morning, BCOW (Broadcasting Corporation of Windenburg)’s royal correspondent Monica Tennet sat down with HRH Princess Diana and her fiance Mr. Nico Tabor in an exclusive interview arranged by the palace. The interview, which took place in the Sapphire Reception Room of the Windenburg Palace, went through not only details of the proposal, but also covered the media whirlwind around the pair and its effect on their relationship. 

MT: ...thank you, Daniel. We come to you now live from the Windenburg Palace, where I have the absolute pleasure of being joined by Her Royal Highness Princess Diana and Mr. Nico Tabor, who just yesterday were confirmed to be engaged. Thank you both for joining me. 

PD: It’s our pleasure, Monica. 

MT: So, we all know the story of how you two met, but I’d like to officially hear it from the two in the relationship, just to catch people up to speed. 

NT: Well, I had been contacted by Rebecca Bels about a cover shoot for Metro’s Winter issue. I didn’t think anything of it except for the fact that she asked if I could come into the main office to go over the client and specific things that would be required of me. Usually we just do the shoot in studio... I have a set of rules I’m required to follow, of course, but new rules were my first tip-off that something was wrong. I was told the next day when I went in that I was going to be photographing the Princess Diana, and that she wanted to show a side of herself that, and I’m quoting directly here, “wasn’t what had been seen of her before”. 

PD: The interview and cover shoot were Maxwell’s idea. He thought that as the youngest of us all, I was the most approachable and personable, so he asked me to do it so that what we do would be seen as keeping up with the times. I agreed, of course, but I made sure to tell him I was doing it on my own terms -- if he wanted the authentic me, he was going to get it. I went to Nico’s home studio the next day. Rebecca was there, so it was all very professional, but during our lunch break Nico and I got to chatting and hit it off. The rest is history. 

MT: Let’s talk about the proposal. Nico, had it been in the works for a while? 

NT: For about two months before the vacation. Luke (the Duke of Daven) had told me he, Elsa and Diana were going to be going to Sulani after Winterfest, and when I told him I was scheduled to be in Mua Pe’lam on a location scout around the same time, it felt like the universe telling me what the next step I had to take was. Metro has a good relationship with Samuel Rhodes (the designer of the ring), so I called in a favor or two and got a consultation with him, which Luke was also a part of as he was bringing the central piece of the ring. 

MT: Your Royal Highness, did you have any idea it was going to happen? 

PD: No. We had talked briefly about marriage, but I think we’ve known since that first date that we were meant to be in it for the long haul. We were both so drawn to each other from the start that the idea of being together for life felt like a no-brainer, but I hadn’t expected a proposal while we were still in Sulani. 

MT: Can you tell us exactly how it happened?

PD: All of us had been at a nearby beach that morning -- the morning before we were scheduled to leave so Elsa and Luke could finish up their term of university. The baby turtles were hatching, so we zipped over to check it out, but when Elsa and Luke went to go back to the house, Nico told me about the waterfall and asked if I wanted to go check it out. We splashed around for a little bit, found a frog or two, and then out of nowhere, he’s down on one knee with the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen.

NT: It wasn’t an easy surprise to pull off, but what was harder was keeping it a secret. We didn’t want to steal the thunder from Luke and Elsa, so we never intended for those pictures to leak, but when they did... well, we didn’t want to have to pretend. 

PD: Our whole relationship, we’ve been dealing with prying eyes. I guess that’s what you get for being royalty, but it felt like there was more scrutiny on me than Luke because I’m a woman and a princess and certain things are expected of me. Max knows, it was never my intention to start as big of an argument as the one that happened, and we definitely never wanted anyone to pick sides. When we came back, though, and Max showed up.... he looked so guilty. He was clearly remorseful of his actions, and he deserved to be forgiven. We never really fought, not even as kids, so this was big for all of us. 

NT: Working in journalism, I see tabloids splashing rumours all the time, but when they’re about you, it’s so much different. It affects you so much more because your very character is being called into question. We’ve come out the other side much stronger for it, but you can trust that in the future we will be making sure disreputable news sources are put in their place. Neither of us have any time for smear tactics, especially when their information is based on lies and assumptions. 

MT: Thank you both for being so honest. Now, when it comes to the wedding, what can you tell us? Have any plans been made already? 

PD: Well, Lily is going to be my maid of honor. She’s my sister, she’ll never get another chance... but also because she is truly my best friend, besides Elsa, but she’s got another young sister of her own and has told me she wants a break from the wedding spotlight for a bit. (*chuckles*) It will be in early fall, so it isn’t bitterly cold, but we’re still working on location. I fell in love with St. Sebastian’s at Luke’s wedding, but we would definitely do an indoor reception. I don’t want to go out on our honeymoon with a cold. 

NT: A lot of things are still being worked out and finalized, so we’ll share more information once we’re ready. For now, we’re just excited to be ourselves in public and not fell like we have anything to hide. I know it’s going to be stressful and we’re going to be so tired at the end of it, but as long as I have Diana to spend my life with at the end of it, I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

MT: That is very sweet of you, Mr. Tabor. Thank you both for joining us once again, and we look forward to finding out more details about your wedding once they’re shared. Back to you, Daniel.

#carmichealroyals #sims royal family #sims royalty #sims 4 royalty #sims 4 royal family #sims 4 legacy #the sims 4 legacy #the sims 4 #the sims 4 royalty #the sims 4 royal family #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 legacy #TS4 #gen1 #simblr

[arcade-stannon]

Arcade and Rory vandalize a former enclave building (in the west coast or east coast)

OK I have a few prompts/questions in my box but today Sucked so this will probably be the only one I get to tonight. I will finish them all, though!!

FYI, this prompt finally un-stuck my writers block with regards to Odds In Your Favor so THANK YOU, anon!!!!!

____________

“Well, shit. Home, sweet home, huh?” Rory remarked to her best friend. 

The two companions stood before the dilapidated gates of the massive, sprawling Enclave base in Navarro, California. They’d both grown up in the small town, but only Arcade had previously seen the military facility up close.

His father, Mark Gannon, was an Enclave soldier, a damning branch on his family tree that he’d been forced to conceal during his entire stay in the Mojave. Most of Arcade’s life had been spent dodging the NCR in some way or another as a result of his family ties, and, indeed, it was risky for him to return to Navarro at all.

“NCR is probably sniffing around,” Rory remarked, as though she’d read his mind, “Don’t you think?”

Arcade shook his head. “Nah,” he dismissed, “With Hoover Dam coming up, they’ve got bigger fish to fry than an old Enclave base. Besides,” he gestured for Rory to follow him through the gates, “Most of the Enclave fled East after this base was taken. Nothing to monitor, really, anymore.”

“You’d think the NCR would just move in,” Rory remarked as she wandered. “Perfectly good facility, right?”

Arcade laughed dryly. “You’d think. Thing about the Enclave, though, is all their equipment--computers, weapons, all of it--it’s all proprietary.” When Rory raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to clarify, he added, “Can’t really be commandeered by people who don’t know the tech, I mean.”

Slowly, a look spread across Rory’s face that Arcade instantly recognized as the one she wore when she got a dangerous idea. 

His suspicions were confirmed quickly as she asked him: “Do you know the tech?”

Arcade rolled his lips and sighed. “Shit. I mean, kind of? I read a lot of technical manuals as a kid, but paramilitary fascism isn’t exactly a ‘take-your-son-to-work-day’ kind of profession. At least, not before his bar mitzvah.”

“Good point,” Rory nodded, “I forgot how young you were when he died.”

“Yeah. Long time before I met you when we were kids.”

“Still, though,” Rory grinned. “We’re here. Wanna poke around?”

Arcade scanned the surroundings to make sure no errant soldiers or civilians lurked in the shadows; then, shrugged his shoulders. “Why not, I guess?”

The main building for the base, long-neglected and weathered, opened right up after a forceful kick from Rory’s combat boot. “Proprietary, my ass,” she smirked as they made their way indoors.

Arcade immediately got a chill when he saw what lay before them: rows and rows of Enclave armor, some of which was fitted with Tesla technology and all of which bore the signature, star-spangled “E”, lined the walls. Though they were all devoid of human pilots, it felt like the ghosts of his father’s army stared sinisterly at him and Rory from the eye-slits in the armor’s helmets.

Rory, however, was unperturbed. “Alright,” she clapped her hands, “Where’s the firepower?”

Arcade scoffed. “Good luck. That stuff’s locked up for good if the NCR hasn’t pilfered it already.”

“Hm,” Rory murmured. “Okay. No guns, no computers, and biolocked armor--hey!” she said brightly, “I bet you could get into one of these suits. Right?”

Arcade thought guiltily back on his father’s Tesla armor, which he’d hidden somewhere deep in the Mojave desert--somewhere not even Rory knew the location of, nor of its existence. He wasn’t sure why he kept it: though he was trained to wear it, the NCR would blow him to kingdom come the second they saw the Enclave “E” on his back, and few desert scuffles rendered such a risk acceptable.

“Yeah,” he agreed, feigning ignorance. “Probably, anyway.” He made his way to a nearby suit that resembled his father’s most closely.

“Do you even know how to use power armor?” Rory laughed, as though the very notion of her pacifist companion donning such apparel tickled her. But by the time she turned around, he was completely suited up and unrecognizable: each bulb on his shoulders and helmet hummed with electricity, and he looked like a monster.

“Whoa,” she murmured, stunned. “You, uh, do know, I guess.”

“That, I took with me,” Arcade nodded his metal head, his voice muffled. “Power armor training, I mean. Daisy.”

“Oh, shit? Daisy?” Rory laughed in shock, “Your sweet old lady friend from Novac?”

“That’s the one,” Arcade affirmed, stomping around in the suit with remarkable agility, “I told you. She’s very cool.” He pressed a button on his suit that lifted his helmet from his head and took a deep breath of fresh air. “Gah. Oxygen in that thing is ancient,” he coughed. 

“I bet. Gotta be maintained or something, right?”

“No kidding. This thing probably hasn’t been touched in over 20 years.”

Just as he was about to remove the heavy,  metal suit from his body, he was overcome by an uncharacteristically childish impulse. With a massive amount of force in his kick, enhanced by the dense, solid metal, he swung his leg into a nearby computer terminal, shattering it instantly.

“Uh...” Rory peered over her glasses, “You good?”

Arcade thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, actually, that felt very good. Give it a try!”

“I don’t have metal legs,” Rory rolled her eyes, “But you have fun, now.”

Arcade tossed her the helmet he’d removed, which she barely caught as it knocked the wind out of her. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he apologized. “But just take that and start smashing.”

Rory hesitated, but did as he asked and began swinging the massive helmet into everything that looked like it would break. “Why are we doing this again?” she bellowed over the escalating din of metal colliding with metal and glass. 

“Catharsis?” Arcade shouted back, continuing to kick and smash things with his superhuman strength.

Rory shrugged. “Good enough for me!”

“Are you telling me you need a reason to smash stuff?” Arcade teased.

The two continued their juvenile antics until they grew too tired and sore to carry on. Panting, Arcade removed himself from the power armor and stretched his arms and legs. 

“I think I needed that,” he nodded, surveying the chaos around them.

“Hey,” Rory patted his shoulder, “Whatever works.”

As a final gesture before they departed, Arcade picked up the power armor’s helmet and flung it through the nearest window, stepping through the jagged hole it created on his way out of the building. Satisfied that he had destroyed this monument to his horrific past, he gestured for Rory to join him. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he called to her, “I’ll show you where me and my mom lived. Pretty close to you, actually, if I recall...”

#arcade gannon #fallout #new vegas #rory wood #courier #fanfic

[nxrdist]

Note:Sorry this took me an age to fill especially considering it’s not terribly long >.< None the less I hope you enjoy it! As ever, my written Irish accent is likely horrible, but I hope you get the gist. Finan’s gift [xx]

A Humble Gift

Fandom: The Last Kingdom/The Saxon Stories

Pairing: Finan/Reader

Words: 1755

-----

Despite the cool chill in the air the sun beat down on Finan as he made his way through the streets of Lunden. He needed to reach the stables with haste. If he didn’t make it in time his party would grow irritated by his tardiness. The Lord Uhtred would not be bothered, but the few priests who rode with them to Gloucester might cause a stink over a delay. So, he quickened his step and made decent time arriving just as the stable hands finished their task of readying the horses. Uhtred lifted a questioning brow but made no comment on his moderately disordered appearance at having rushed. Shortly there after they all mounted up and made for the city gates. The journey to Gloucester wasn’t long and they would arrive in a few days just in time for the Lady Hollis’s birthday celebration.

Lady Hollis was Æthelred’s first cousin by marriage and the two had grown up together. So, the Lord of Mercia was throwing her a feast which Lord Uhtred had been invited to. Of course, the invitation had been sent out grudgingly on Æthelred’s part though that was of no consequence to Uhtred -their dislike was mutual. No doubt he would greet his cousin and proceed to ignore him for the rest of their visit.

It had puzzled Finan somewhat at first when Uhtred had announced their imminent departure but for the look his Lord gave him when making said announcement. Uhtred had noticed the letters Finan had been receiving in secret and guessed at their origin. Naturally knowing his Irishman as well as he did the Lord had guessed correctly. At their last visit to Gloucester the Lady Hollis had been there -not long after their return the letters had begun. Finan supposed it was not so difficult to put the two together. The kindness Uhtred was doing him was not lost on Finan.

Their journey was expedient and trouble-free. They arrived on time, the day before the feast, and were received by Æthelred before being dismissed to find their lodgings. Had they been in Winchester Uhtred might have complained at not being housed at the palace, but he made no comment on it as they settled in at the inn. Finan assumed it was all the better to him for not being obligated to spend extra time in Æthelred’s presence.

He slept little that night. Tossing and turning frequently in his sleep, Finan eyed the pouch he’d laid on the chair with his other belongings even in the dark. A feeling of apprehension came over him whenever he looked at it for its contents made him nervous for the next day to come. When he had purchased the token, he had been feeling much more confident. Now he worried over whether he ought to have gotten it at all. Lady Hollis was likely to receive many and much more impressive gifts on the morrow which would make his feeble attempt seem so little a thing. Once he would have been able to bestow such gifts upon her, but not since having been cast out of his own land. How much easier it would be to be with her if he were still a prince of the Uí Néill.

-----

Her eighteenth year and she was still not married. It was an uncommon thing, but for the love her father bore her. Having lost his wife many years past he had clung tight to his daughter being quite loathe to let her go. In her youth it had not bothered her quite so much as she escaped several displeasing proposals in those years. All of which had been blessedly turned away by her father.

However, things were different now. Æthelred had begun the previous year to put pressure upon her father, Lord Ælfstan, to see her wed lest she become a spinster. Of course, he was right. As such at the feast Hollis was showered with the attention of many Lords looking to win her favor. She was not averse to attention in fact at times she quite enjoyed it, though the one who’s attention she sought was no Lord.

Earlier in the evening she had seen him enter with Lord Uhtred’s party from Lunden and had been hard pressed to hide the smile which spread across her face. Her cousin had grumbled the previous evening at dinner over the arrival of Lord Uhtred, who he had clearly hoped would not accept the invitation, but she had not been there at their arrival. So, to finally see the face she searched for among the crowed, Hollis had been quite elated.

-----

When the feast finally ended the guests filtered into the next room where much drinking and dancing would take place. Finan’s hand fell to the pouch tied at his belt where he fiddled absently with the strings as he had numerous times throughout that day. He had hoped to catch her in the halls before the meal but had had no such luck. And so, he sat through the feast with the weight at his belt growing by the moment. A more pessimistic part of his subconscious thought he might never get a moment alone with her after all and thus all his worry would have been for nothing.

The dancing began and Finan stayed near the wall for a time drinking from his mug of ale chatting with Sihtric and Uhtred. Eventually Uhtred left them and he watched Hollis be twirled about the hall by this Lord and that. His mood grew more sour with each new partner until it was Lord Uhtred she was dancing with. Last Finan had seen Lord Uhtred had been speaking with the Lady Æthelfled. Sighing, Finan turned away to focus on what Sihtric was saying.

“I can never get used to these sorts of celebrations,” Sihtric commented.

“Different than chuggin’ ale and wrestlin’ in the dirt eh?” Finan retorted with as much humor as he could muster.

“At least it isn’t so uptight,” shot back the half-dane.

“And more fun too,” he agreed.

“Do you know why Uhtred even agreed to come at all?” Sihtric asked.

Of course, he knew. “To see the Lady Æthelfled I expect,” Finan lied.

Sihtric’s brow rose in question.

Finan shot him a condescending look.

“Truly?” Sihtric responded dubiously.

He would have replied except for the little cough that drew his attention away from his friend. There stood Hollis with a polite smile on her lovely face. When he said nothing, she tilted her head as if in question.

“My Lady,” Sihtric said with a slight bow of his head.

The half-Dane’s words jolted him from his shock and Finan murmured the same greeting.

“If you would excuse me? I’m quite parched. I was only trying to reach the ale,” she said.

“My apologies Lady,” Sihtric said.

Swiftly he moved to make room for her to pass; though, he did note to himself that she could have easily gone around them to reach the ale. When he went to exchange glances with Finan he noticed the Irishman looking the Lady with an intent gaze. Sihtric furrowed his brow.

“It is rather warm,” Finan commented.

“Yes, it is,” Hollis said, then hesitated. “I imagine a nice breeze would be quite pleasant.”

“I believe you might be right. Enjoy the celebrations Lady,” Finan said before also moving to let her pass.

Finally, Finan met Sihtric’s confused gaze with a shrug and a little smirk. Sihtric turned slightly to watch the Lady make her way to the ale and fill her cup. When he turned back to Finan the Irishman was gone.

-----

Out in the courtyard it was much less noisy than it had been indoors, and a subtle breeze blew through the enclosed area. He waited under the shadow one of the aspen trees which lined the two ends of the plaza. Thankfully, he did not have to be patient long for her to appear. A muffled sound of laughter followed by light steps alerted him to her approach across the yard, but only when he saw her bathed in moonlight did, he step out from under the branches. Hollis looked about for a moment before calling to him.

“Finan?” she whispered.

Clearly, she had not seen him nevertheless the moment his name passed her lips she spied him and hurried to close the distance. For his part Finan went to meet her, but by then she was only a hand full of steps away and to his surprise she stepped in swiftly and wrapped her arms around him. The embrace was brief but even so it calmed the nervous racing of his heart.

“Have you missed me?” she asked softly as she withdrew.

“Have ye’ not been readin’ my letters?” he quipped with a sly grin.

“I have,” Hollis replied with a shy smile. “Though, I would hear you say it.”

“I ‘ave missed ye’ as much as a man misses ‘is bed on a long journey,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “If na’ more so.”

Her smile brightened with joy at hearing his words.

“And I you.”

With his free hand, Finan fumbled for the pouch at his belt. Hollis’s eyes went to the pouch before returning to his face with a questioning look. A ghost of his former apprehension passed through him as he removed it.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I saw it…in Lunden. I thought o’ ye.”

His expression turned a shade abashed as he released her hand to draw open the pouch. From within he drew out a brooch made from silver in a delicately crafted design. Steeling himself, Finan held it out for her to take. A hand flew to her mouth in surprise and she hesitated.

“You need not have troubled yourself,” she whispered.

“I wanted t’. Ye mentioned ye ‘ad lost yer favorite cloak pin…”

Her eyes watered slightly as she looked up at him.

“I had completely forgotten telling you. Finan-“Hollis cut herself off by embracing him tightly once more, though this time she didn’t draw away fully. “You are so thoughtful.”

He couldn’t help the pride that rose in his chest at her praise. Unthinkingly, Finan raised his hand to Hollis’s cheek brushing his thumb delicately over her cheek to wipe away the single tear that had fallen. An impish grin was spreading on his lips.

“Now, Lady there’s no need t’ be cryin’ over a trifle.”

“Tis’ not a trifle since it came from you,” Hollis said.

#tlk fic #finan fic #tlk #The Last Kingdom #finan #finan the agile