A cold cure for Insomnia

Hey look, it's not a genshin fic

wild huh?

I'll preface this with 2 things: 1: I am, for some reason, incredibly nervous abt posting a fic that is 100% outside my wheelhouse. I've never actually posted anything but genshin fic since I started uploading a couple years ago, only like, one friend has ever seen anything else from me so this is a bit of a step. 2: this is nothing put pure, indulgent lesbian bullshit and I'll also note that I have no idea how to write f/f smut, so be gentle with me.

If you're only here for my genshin stuff, have a nice day and we'll be back to regularly scheduled bullshittery shortly. Until then, please enjoy me, self indulging over my pokemon wife.

Elite 4 Rika x Fem!Reader 7.4k words, not proofread, we die like prof. sada

NSFW, honestly it's just a whole lot of fkn smut with some fluff sprinkled in there, praise kink, hair pulling, use of toys, oral, tribbing, koraidon being an unintentional wingman.

What a day.

Sometimes you wonder how Nemona did it, rushing around doing champion things all the time. Honestly, ever since you’d beat Geeta all those years ago while you were still in school, it felt like every day was ‘go here, check this gym, go there, check that gym.’ And you were getting a little tired of it.

Especially recently, with Nemona currently travelling somewhere in the Kalos region doing Arceus knows what, and Geeta being stuck in paperwork hell with the Academy preparing for their annual treasure hunt, you’d been swamped, needing to go and check every. Single. Gym. to make sure they were all up to par.

(who knows maybe this year a new student would claim the champion title and you could retire? That’d be nice.)

Montenevera was the last stop on your trip, and while the vibe was always lovely in the snowy mountain town…you’d never been particularly fond of the cold… Only made worse by Rhyme and her gang of ghost pokemon sending a particular shiver down your spine that you just couldn’t shake.

Night had fallen by the time you finally walked out the sliding doors of the League building, only to be greeted by your one nemesis. 

Fucking snow.

Here, on the outskirts of Mesagoza.

You wanted to scream, but that wasn’t very becoming of a League champion now was it?

So with a sigh, you reach for a specific pokeball on your hip. The trek home wasn’t far, but in the sleet and cold, you knew it’d be faster if you rode.

Koraidon however, apparently had other ideas. 

The moment his feet touch the cold ground, he yelps and backs right up and into the League building once again.

“Koraidon…c’mon bud, we just need to get home.” you sigh “I know you’re tired too…I promise to make you the best dang sandwich when we get home…yeah?” 

The paradox pokemon simply looks at you with wide, sad eyes and a low chitter before he willingly returns to his ball. 

Great….just great. Not even your most reliable pokemon was willing to brave even more snow, not after today.

“Woah-ho, what’s gotten under his scales?” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, snapping you from your despondent staring at Koraidon’s pokeball. The familiar click of dress boots give her away before Rika steps into view.

How she always managed to look so very casual while pulling off suspenders was beyond you, but every time you were anywhere in the vicinity of the first member of the Elite four, you found your mouth running dry and your mind wandering very far away from here. She tilts her head at you and it takes her waving her hand in front of your eyes to realise you were absolutely staring at her.

Way to go.

“Woah, you alright? You look wiped.” She comments, her brow furrowing as she looks you up and down. 

“A-ah…yeah, sorry…s’been a long few days…” you eventually mumble, turning your gaze to the floor as you clip Koraidon’s ball back to your belt with the others. “Geeta’s had me checking and rechecking all the gyms to make sure they’re ready for the next treasure hunt…we just got back from Montenevera…cold…tired…and now it’s snowing a-and Koraidon is just…too tired to take me home..” 

A slender, comforting hand gently rests between your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing circles and it takes everything in you to not crumble apart there, man, how desperate did you have to be to nearly cry at friendly touch? “You live all the way on the other side of town, dontcha?” She asks, her free hand raising to push some of her green hair from her face as the look of worry on her features only seems to grow “Ain’t no way you’re making that walk in this state…”

“I’ll live…” you sigh, hanging your head and readjusting your bag as you lift your head to look at the snow flurry that was definitely only getting heavier.

“Nah, C’mon, you can crash at mine tonight, it’s closer.” Rika chimes, patting you on the back and passing you a wink before she heads out the door. 

You blink, watching her back in silence, there was no way she had just invited you to spend the night, absolutely no way. You needed to go see a doctor and maybe get your hearing checked-

“You comin? Or did Rhyme’s Toxtricity paralyse you up there in Montenevera?” She calls, stopping and looking over her shoulder. There's a…a look in her eyes that you can't quite make out, but it makes your heart jackhammer just that little bit, especially when she turns and offers her hand “C’mon, let's get you home, yeah?”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you blink at her outstretched, gloved hand and then up at her smile.

Arceus, you were weak…how you ever made champion when you can’t even look the first of the Elite four in the eye without feeling your cheeks heat, you’ll never know.

Finally, you reach out and take her hand, not expecting her to tug you into her side, arm draping over your shoulders as she starts walking again, all but pulling you along with her. Her hand gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she shares her body warmth with you on the trek down the mountainside towards the tunnel. For someone so slim, she was…much warmer than you expected, and you find yourself sleepily zoning out, simply focusing on one food in front of the other.

Thankfully, Rika was pretty alright with not needing to make small talk. This wasn’t the first time you had both just…existed in the same space in silence…to be fair the silence on your part before was because you had no idea how to talk to her without muddling your words like a lovestruck idiot, and perhaps that was still the case. Regardless, you play up the ‘tired’ aspect and simply bask in being close.

The unfortunate downside to the tunnel from Mesagoza up to the League headquarters, was the wind. Right now? Frigid and inhospitable, the icy chill stinging at your eyes, at least until your companion comes to your rescue, shifting you behind her taller frame and blocking the wind, hand moving from your shoulder to your hand, giving that same reassuring squeeze as she looks over her shoulder, small smile on her face.

You swear you can feel her thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles as she bends her arm behind her back to keep a secure hold on you.

Rika…she really was something else, something you didn’t deserve.

The moment the tunnel spits you both out into Mesagoza’s side streets, she takes an immediate right. Had you been walking home, you would have had to take a left and trudge all the way to the other side of the city, past the academy and almost to the pokemon centre by the west gate. 

The flurry of snow was only getting worse, you can feel your clothes growing heavy and damp, and the concrete was getting slippery. Thankfully it’s not all that long before she tugs you into an apartment building and into a blessedly warm elevator. Holding you steady as your world begins to spin and blur at the edges. Perhaps you really had pushed it a bit too much today, hitting Cascarrafa, Glaseado and Montenevera in a single day…

“Hey.” Rika murmurs as your head rests against her shoulder “Stay with me, nearly there, kay? We’ll get you inside n’warmed up, yeah?” 

“Mmh…kay..” you manage to mumble back, simply enjoying being held, even if it was light. Her arm wrapped around your torso as you just breath. She smells like Cedarwood…and maybe a hint of Ozone…might have something to do with her Camerupt… but it’s not an unwelcome scent at all. You only get a few moments to enjoy it before the elevator chimes, and you’re gently tugged out into, and down a hallway. Rika’s free hand fishing her keys from her pocket. She has to let you go to get the door open, muttering something about a stuck lock and needing to call maintenance, but with a bodily shove of her shoulder, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

Her apartment is blessedly warm, she must have left the heater on when she left for work this morning, because the warm air nearly takes you out before you even enter the door, needing to lean against the frame with a relieved sigh, knowing that even if you had made it home tonight, your heater had definitely not been on, and hadn't been for several days.

Rika only laughs softly, gently pulling you inside so she could close the door. 

“Here…lets get you to the bathroom and into the shower…you’re absolutely freezing.” She mutters. Half-carrying you down the hall. Her apartment is…honestly what you expected. Neat enough, but not overly tidied. Lived in, comfortable, Inviting. Shades of soft greens and earthy tones scattered everywhere, a few large pokemon beds scattered about for her pokemon to enjoy outside of their balls. The only things really alluding to the fact that Rika was far more well off than most had to be the massive TV mounted to the living room wall, and what looked like one of the newer game consoles…the ones that had been super hard to get because of a manufacturing supply issue…fancy.

You don't quite register that she’s slowly pulling your clothes away from you until she’s already got your beanie, scarf and jacket off, each item thrown into her laundry hamper, at some point she’d also already started the shower for you, the room already beginning to fill with steam. You snap back to reality when theres a gently tug at the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your permission to remove it. 

“O-oh, I uh…s-sorry…” you mumble, raising your arms above your head anyway, cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment as she pulls the item away, the tank top beneath still leaving you modest enough to not die on the spot. “I-I can handle it from here…” 

“You sure?” she murmurs softly “S’no big deal to me.” 

“Y-yeah…I’ll be fine…thanks.” 

You watch as the tiniest hint of…disappointment? Flickers across her features…no, surely you were imagining…but she doesn’t push it any further.

“Alrighty, I’ll go find something you can wear for the night and then throw your clothes in the laundry once you’re in the shower, yeah?”

“Mm…t-thank you Rika…you really…you didn’t have to-” you mumble, unable to meet her gaze, but she just smiles and shrugs, her fingers slowly pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“And what if I wanted to? You look like you need a break.” She retorts, sliding past you and continuing down the hall before you can reply.

Soon enough, the rest of your clothes join the laundry hamper and you slip into the shower, beneath the scalding spray and you want to cry all over again, your fingers begin to prick with pins and needles as they slowly regain feeling, serves you right for leaving your gloves at home.

A few minutes into your shower, you hear the distinctive, soft thud of cloth hitting the counter. “Here’s some jammies, sorry if they’re a bit big.” Rika chuckles before vanishing back down the hall. You almost don’t want to get out of the hot spray, especially not once you start giving yourself a good scrub down with whatever fancy-branded body wash she kept in here.

At least now you know what to buy that would make you smell like cedarwood…

After you feel the last of the day’s grime finally wash from your body, you shut off the water and poke your head out of the shower. Thankfully Rika had already left a towel waiting atop the clothes she’d sacrificed to you. It’s as you’re drying off that you finally get a good look in the mirror and…wow…

Now you think you understand why she’d been so concerned…you look like you had two black eyes, that's how tired you were…

–

You find Rika relaxing in the living room watching TV when you finally emerge, changed into a fresh set of long pyjamas and- you can’t even stop the giggle when you notice the clodsire slippers.

“Where on earth did you get those?” you ask, pointing to said slippers, earning a grin and a snicker from their wearer.

“Larry actually.” She chuckles “secret santa a couple years back.” With that, she pats the spot on the couch next to her, and you, now warm and content, plop down beside her without a second thought, leaning against the arm of the couch with a content sigh. “How’re you feelin?” she asks, idly flipping through the channels.

“Mmh…much better…thank you again…I…I don’t think I would have made it home…not in this weather.”

“Oh I coulda told you that, Honey. In fact I’m pretty sure I did.” She snickers, her lips quirking at the side when she notes the way your cheeks flush pink at the pet name. “I’ve ordered some takeout, s’too cold to go out n’ grab food...and I’m usually too beat after work to bother cooking.” 

“Then how the hell do you stay so skinny?” You snicker at her, receiving a wink in response.

“Oh I take my cardio seriously.” is all the response she gives before she finally decides there is nothing decent on regular TV, and switches over to a streaming service, throwing on some random popular movie. 

Once again, you both settle into a comfortable silence, Rika rising from the couch half an hour in to fetch the dinner left at her door before returning, at some point with a blanket in tow. You sit up a little as she places the food on the coffee table and plops down right beside you this time, draping the blanket over both your laps. It’s not until you take the first mouthful of that delightful galarian curry, that you realise just how hungry you are, barely paying attention to the movie as you scarf down your meal, fighting back tears at Rika’s acts of kindness for the third time today, and only seemingly taking a breath once you’ve finished your meal, leaning back into the arm of the couch with a content sigh, only to squeak when Rika finishes her own a few minutes later and bodily leans into your side, head to your chest and arms slowly wrapping around your torso as she pulls her legs up and gets comfortable beside you with a content huff.

Arceus she was just so…so handsome, breathtaking… and she was just…cuddling you like you’d both been doing this kind of thing for years… it was sudden, but it didn’t feel wrong…and slowly, you bring your arm down from where it had been splayed along the back of the couch, to gently card through her hair, pulling some of her bangs from her face and tucking them behind her ear.

“Hmm…you should get some sleep, kiddo…arceus knows you need it.” She hums, glancing up at you from her spot on your chest. You know she’s right, and she doesn’t complain when you shift, even reaching behind her to hand you an extra cushion to tuck behind your head as you lay out along the couch, Rika coming to rest between your legs, head once again leaning onto your chest, her extra warmth and weight just adding another layer of comfort as you both go back to watching the movie.

Now usually, usually you were the kind of person who could drop off watching a movie quite easily. But on very rare occasions, you would find yourself struck with bouts of insomnia, and unfortunately for you, they always seemed to happen after periods of prolonged stress.

Like needing to go and personally make sure every gym was up to standards… 

Before you even knew it, the credits begin to roll, you’re exhausted, but offensively awake, to the point where even Rika is surprised, blinking those beautiful crimson eyes up at you. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asks with a tilt of her head. 

“Sometimes Insomnia is a bitch.” You concede, she makes a noise of understanding. 

“Ah, yeah…I know that feeling…” she admits, staring up at you, to the point you feel your cheeks heating again, and you avert your gaze “but, thankfully, I know the best solution for that.” She adds, shimmying to push herself up on her hands and knees, looming over you, some of her hair, having been free’d of its usual ponytail, cascading over her shoulders to tickle at your face.

“O-oh? And…what might that be?” that look in her eyes is back, the one you couldn’t quite read properly back at HQ, but here, with her inches from your face? It’s loud and clear.

Hunger. 

“Do you trust me?” She asks, her lips quirking into a smirk as you shrink beneath her. 

“W-would I have followed you home if I hadn’t?” you manage to squeak back at her, nowhere near as confident and commanding as it had sounded in your head. It’s enough to make her chuckle, and you watch in a daze as she licks her lips, a single hand coming up to softly grip your chin, lifting your face. 

“Hm, touche…” and with that, her lips are on yours, she swallows the squeaking gasp that you let out, taking the opportunity of your mouth being open to send her tongue in to explore. To you it feels like electricity, like you’d just taken a thunderbolt to the senses; She’s soft, gentle, probing, gauging your reactions. Apparently she must have liked what she got, because she deepens the kiss, nipping at your lips as one hand tangles in your hair, rougher. You like this a bit better. 

You’re the one who needs to come up for air first, pulling your face away with a loud, breathless gasp as you try to catch your breath. 

The look you find waiting for you is…predatory, is the only word that comes to mind, and if it wasn’t for the fact she was already between your knees, you’d be squeezing your thighs together so tight, because it’s doing something…funny to your insides.

“Hmm…you ever done anything like…this before?” She asks, voice low and husky and you’re very ready to pass away, but you manage a shake of your head and the grin you get in response? 

It’s like a Mightyena who’s just found it’s lunch. She was going to eat you, and she was going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Well then, we’d best move…couch sex is great n’ all, but I’d rather your first time be somewhere a little more comfortable.” she remarks, pulling away. You whine at the loss of her extra warmth, but that whine quickly turns to a yelp when she takes your arm and drags you up with a strength she hadn’t shown you before. Always full of tricks, Rika was. 

The admittedly short trek down the hall to her room is…hindered. Every few steps you’d find yourself pressed against the wall, Rika towering over you as hands tangle in your hair and lips crash to yours as she steals what little breath you manage to catch before you’re separating, taking a couple more steps and repeating the process. 

Right outside the bedroom door, the slim trainer actually lifts you up the wall a ways, enough so that your legs instinctively wrap around her waist, nothing but her pyjama pants and the thin boxer’s you’d borrowed off her keeping you apart, but already entirely too much clothing in the way. You moan loudly when she rolls her hips into yours, the sensations all new and overwhelming, but you don't think you’ve ever felt this good before in your life.

Her hands find your ass as she pulls back from the wall, holding you to her firmly as you both finally stumble into her room, only given a second to brace before she’s throwing you down into the blankets, and even less time before she’s on you, grinning and hungry as hands fly up your top, pushing it up your chest so she can finally access some skin.

“A-ah! Rika-” her name was lost on her for the time being, far too engrossed in leaving open mouthed kisses along your chest and stomach, mouth latching over one of your nipples while her hand works at the other. Your own hands twisting and clenching at her blanket, your squirming only made worse when she shifts again, her knee pressing between your legs and right against your aching cunt. 

At some point, she manages to wrangle the top off you completely, throwing it to the void so her hands can explore the expanse of your chest properly, she leaves no patch of skin untouched, no freckle or blemish uncharted, and when your whining begins to pitch as the nipple she sucks on becomes too sensitive, she gets go, only to latch to your collar bone instead, hands roaming your body.

You let out an embarrassingly pitiful mewl when her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your borrowed boxers, and you immediately bring a hand up to cover your mouth. Rika, apparently, doesn’t like that. Her hand retreating from its place as she props herself on the other, pulling away entirely, even shifting her knee back, depriving you of that delicious friction. Your hand is tugged away from your mouth and pinned to your side, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Don’t.” She scolds quietly “I wanna hear you.”

“B-but-” 

“Don’t be a brat.” she interjects, eyes flashing dangerously “I know that aint’ you… you wanna be a good girl, yeah?”

Oh.

Oh no.

That shouldn’t have such an effect on you. 

There’s no hiding it from Rika either. Her smirk widens as she stares smugly down at your trembling frame. 

“Oh? You like that huh? Well then, are you gonna be a good girl and do as I say?” she hums “I’ll make sure you feel real good, yeah?”

“M-mhm…” is all you manage to squeak out, earning a raised eyebrow.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you there, princess.” Rika snickers. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and the humiliation burns your ears and makes your insides squirm in a way you didn’t think would feel as good as it did.

“I-I’ll be good…” you whisper, your hands twisting into the sheets as Rika hums, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your burning cheek. 

“That’s a good girl.” she purrs “you just relax n’let me handle things, kay?”

You actually sigh into the kiss when she does finally return to what she was doing, your arms wrapping over her shoulders as she shifts back into place, hands lightly roaming your skin, teasing and testing sensitive spots, occasionally getting a little rougher, just enough to rile you a little more, before settling again. Before she can get back into your pants however, you tug at her shirt, whining into her mouth; thankfully, Rika is smart, she gets your hint and pulls away just long enough to tug her top off.

Her skin is soft, smooth, a few burn scars and claw marks here and there as she settles beside you, one of your thighs caught between her knees as she wraps an arm under your shoulders, pulling you close to her chest as the other hand grazes southward, she doesn't dally once her fingers breech the waistband of your boxers, quickly locating the sticky mess between your thighs with a pleased hum.

“Mmm, look at that…” she hums as a pair of fingers easily delve through your pussy, retracting from your boxers entirely so she can admire the glistening slick dripping from her fingers. “You’re so wet already, honey…” Rika makes sure you watch as she pops those two fingers into her mouth and you squeak, face burning in embarrassment. 

She doesn’t give you much time to react, the moment she pulls those slender fingers from her lips, she shifts, your boxers are wrenched off and you’re left bare before her as she parts your knees to settle on her belly between your thighs, eyes flashing devilishly in the low light, and hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive parts.

“R-Rika-”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you into my bed.” She rasps between open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, arms wrapping around to keep yout hips in place as she takes her sweet time. “When was it… mmh, yeah I think it was…two years ago? Koraidon suddenly came out of his ball all sorry lookin’ in the middle of a meeting…”

Oh Arceus, you remember that meeting… Perhaps you’d been a little soft with Koraidon…he’d learnt that if he looked sorry enough, you’d make him a sandwich… but it was getting awfully hard to focus when a warm tongue suddenly licks a flat stripe into your cunt, and lips seal around your clit, shocking you from your thoughts as her strong hands prevent you from accidentally crushing her head with your thighs.

“Without even stopping to think, you got up n’ you got him what he needed.” she whispers into your thigh once she finally pulls away “middle of a meetin… n’ heres our newest champion, making a sandwich for her pokemon.” she chuckles “I dunno…something about how casually you just…did that…I’ve wanted this ever since but Geeta’s always had you running all over the place, pinning you down has always been impossible…least until today.” 

“Rika…”

“You’re always doing everything for everyone else… you deserve to relax.” For a brief moment, she flashes you a genuine smile, not a hint of that handsome smirk that you’re so used to; just genuine warmth before she tugs you down by your hips and returns her mouth to you, long strokes of her tongue between your folds that leave any words dead in your throat, and your hands tangling in her hair for any semblance of control. You didn’t want to hurt her, but when she sucks harshly on your clit, you cry out and yank on her hair a little harder than you’d meant to, any apology dying when she groans and shudders, her eyes rolling back for a moment. 

“You’re killin me, kid.” She sighs in the brief moment she brings herself to separate from you “keep doin that and you might end up in trouble.”

It sounds like a threat… but the way she suddenly looks so…debauched, has you tugging at her silky hair again when a pair of fingers slowly begin to prod at your core, spurring her on as you squirm and mewl.

Eventually, you feel something deep in your belly, different from before, something building that has your breath coming harshly as you try to squirm away, stopped by a firm hand pressing just below your navel.

“R-rika-! s-somethings…I-I feel-” you whimper as the pressure builds, you expect her to pull away in concern, but her eyes flash with realisation, and she only seems to double down, her long, slender fingers curling inside of you and brushes against…something. Something that has you nearly scream her name as that pressure snaps and your world turns white, fingers curling harshly into her hair.

Somewhere, through the haze, you feel a weight resting on you, and a hand resting on your cheek, but it takes a little longer for your ears to finally stop ringing and realise Rika was gently calling your name.

“There you are..” She chuckles softly as you finally remember how to uncross your eyes and look at her. “That looked intense…you ok?” 

“Uh…uh-huh…” you respond dumbly, resting your cheek against her hand “what…what was that..?”

Rika’s lips pull into a thin, concerned line as her brows furrow.

“They really didn’t teach sex-ed at the academy, did they?” She asks.

“I-I mean…they did…s’just…basic..” you mumble as you slowly come down from…whatever high that just was.

“Obviously.” she sighs with a shake of her head “Was that seriously your first orgasm?” 

Oh.

“oh…I uh…yeah…I guess it was.” and the humiliation was back. You knew what an orgasm was in theory…you’d just..never bothered to try it yourself. 

“Well…I suppose I should count myself honoured then.” She snickers, leaning in to kiss at your undoubtedly sweaty forehead. “Couple more of those N’ I think you’ll be sleeping like a Komala.” 

“M-more…?” you whisper, she laughs, catching your wide-eyed expression.

“Oh yeah, that was just foreplay, sweet thing…you did so well.” 

And the praise was back, despite the way your joints feel molten hot, you still manage to squirm beneath her. 

“I- s-should I…um…h-help you now?” your question is barely a whisper, all nerves…you have no idea how she did what she did but it felt…wrong to take and not give. 

But Rika only shakes her head. 

“What’d I say before?” she chides, slowly sitting back on her knees “Your one job tonight is to relax…I’ve got you.” 

“But…what about you-”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get off eventually.” She chuckles, smirking when you sigh and relent. “I want one more outta you before then though.” She mumbles as she shifts out from between your knees, sitting and reaching for her bedside table as you stare at the ceiling, basking in the shaky afterglow. 

“D-did you…mean what you said before?” you mumble more at the ceiling than anything “that you’ve been…waiting for this..?” 

“What reason do I have to lie to you?” She chuckles as she fiddles with…whatever she’s fiddling with. “You earned my respect the day you beat me when you first took on the Elite four, my admiration when you beat Geeta and became a champion…”

“God…those stupid glasses haunt me.” you snicker, remembering rather vividly being sat, alone in a room with Rika when you had first taken on the league, you’d read up plenty on other pokemon leagues in other regions, but never once had any of them had an interview-style exam right at the start.

“Hey, I like my glasses, thank you very much!” Rika snorts as she finally shifts back over, pulling you close with one arm as something…new slides between your legs, a quick glance and- oh.

You never really took Rika for the kind to own toys…but…at the same time, you never really gave it much thought. It’s nothing extreme, but to you, who’s never had anything other than a pair of slender fingers inside you very recently, the silicone toy is still rather intimidating. 

“This ok?” She asks, mouthing at your neck and shoulder “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I…I do..just..nervous is all.” 

“Mmh, good girl, so trusting…” there she goes again with the pet name that makes you shiver, not helped by the cold press of lubricated silicone against your still-sensitive cunt, gently pressing just that little bit further as Rika mouths your neck, nibbling down on the juncture between throat and shoulder, an adequate distraction as she pulls your leg out of the way with her own and sinks the toy in, slowly, almost tender as she coos comforts, coaxing you to relax, praise falling from her easily. 

“Look at that, you took it so well.” She praises once the toy reaches the hilt “fuck, you’re making me regret not buying a harness… might just have to pick one up so I can fuck you proper, yeah?” 

You can't even bring yourself to respond to her dirty talk, blinking hazily downwards as you gently press a hand just below your belly-button, taking the hint, Rika pulls the toy almost all the way out and then thrusts it back in. The feeling of it inside you, plus being able to feel it beneath your hand makes you moan loud and long, head falling back against the pillows as Rika lets you go, using her now free arm to prop herself up to watch you as she begins rhythmically working the dildo in and out of you, a small shift of her thumb has it brushing against your clit every time she sinks the silicone back into you, only adding to the layers of pleasure as your toes curl and your legs twitch.

“Look at you taking it like you were made for this, good girl.” she purrs, licking at her lips “I really shoulda found another reason to get you alone waaay before now.”

“Ungh…please…p-please…more…” It takes more than you feel like it should to beg, good as it felt, you’re worried that Rika was perhaps treating you just a little too softly. “Rika please…please please pleas-”

“Woah there, settle down baby.” She whispers, kissing at your cheek “Lookit you, telling me what you want like a good girl…who am I to deny the champion?” 

Your attempt at telling her she didn’t need to use your title is quickly drowned out when she sits up, plunging the toy deeper inside of you with this new angle, brushing up against that one spot that had triggered your last orgasm. Her free hand pins your chest down as she smiles down at you, predatory and hungry for your reactions as she ups the pace, occasionally stopping to really grind the toy deep inside of you, right against that sensitive spot that has your voice pitch higher while you grip at Rika’s hand like your life depended on it.

As your next orgasm draws closer, you whimper, tugging at her hand, overstimulated ,overwhelmed, knowing you needed something, but not quite sure what that something was. At least until Rika pulls you to sit up, not even interrupting her pace as she braces you against her chest so you can hide your face away into the crook of her neck. All the while she mutters praise and pet names into your ear. She groans when that knot snaps for the second time tonight and you cry her name into her throat. You don’t pass out like you’re pretty sure you did last time at least, but as the shocks of pleasure begin to fade out, you really do begin to feel the pull of exhaustion behind your eyes as you slump against Rika’s shoulder, whimpering quietly when she slowly pulls the toy from your sensitive core, feeling the way your muscles involuntarily clench around it.

“How was that, baby? You doin alright?” She asks, gently tossing the toy back towards the bedside table as she turns her attention back to you. You were dizzy, dazed, and exhausted, yet through all that one thought still persisted.

She’d been doing all of this for you, and she still had her goddamn pants on.

Her breath hitches when your hand drops to her thighs, pressing beneath the waistband as you try to swallow down your nervousness to return the favour properly, biting your lip as you find the slick, wet mess already waiting for you; in a way, it was comforting to know that she was in fact, turned on by all of this. You’re clumsier than Rika at this, inexperienced and nervous, but you listen as she lets out a shuddering breath, her head leaning against yours for a moment as you slowly gain some confidence. That is until she grabs your wrist, ignoring your whine as she pulls your hand away and lays you back down, taking a moment to kiss any air out of your lungs, trying to calm your fraying nerves at being denied the chance to please her. 

“Hey… It’s ok sweetie.” She murmurs against your lips, uncaring of your wide-eyed pout “One more…”

“Nooo.” you whine, wiggling in her grip “I cant…s’too much Rika…” truly, you didn't think you could take another, no matter how good it felt, the first two had been so intense, but Rika only smiles. 

“I know you can give me one more, sweet girl.” she purrs, watching as you squirm and shake your head like you could actually deny her. “Will you stop being a brat if I told you this one will also get me off?” 

At that, your squirming stops as you blink tiredly up at her, earning a chuckle and a fond shake of her head. 

“R-really?”

“Yeah, s’nice n easy on you too…you wanna try?” 

You seriously doubted she could get another out of you, hell, you seriously doubted you could stay awake for much longer, her initial plan definitely working…but if it brought her pleasure too…

“O-ok…I’ll try…”

“That’s my girl.” She whispers softly, pressing just as soft a kiss to your lips “Lay back for me, princess.”

You do just that, shifting a few pillows to get comfortable, if you thought your joints ached before, now you felt like you've made the trip to the three final gyms today on foot…perhaps you should make Koraidon his favourite sandwich as thanks for carrying you around all day.

You feel Rika take hold of one of your legs, lifting it so your knee bends over her shoulder as she settles into place, finally free of her own bottoms as she slots her pelvis against yours. You gasp at the feeling of your cores pressing together. It felt…soft, but almost way more intimate and intense than anything she’d done to you prior…whatever she was doing, definitely wasn’t covered in any sex-ed class you’d taken back in school.

You’re about to ask, when she rolls her hips and oh- 

Perhaps it was your already overstimulated state, or just the position itself, but as she slowly grinds herself against you, the friction leaves you breathless, even more so when you look at Rika’s face. Her brow is furrowed in deep concentration as she bites at her bottom lip, face contorting in pleasure as she groans into your knee, her nails digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as she rolls her hips just a little harder, the pain only adding to the sensation.

“S-shit…” she pants, “fuck you feel so good…good girl..” she moans, head tilting back as she stares up at the ceiling, shuddering when you whimper and lift your hips as she rolls down again, sending another jolt of pleasure through you both. “That’s it princess, j-just like that… you’re gettin real good at this…” 

Her words of pleasured praise do…something else to you, sparking that last bit of energy you had left to life as you continue to try and keep rhythm with her, grinding together slow and deep and watching in awe as the first member of the elite four comes apart in front of you for the first time, her sounds going from quite whispers to long moans and pleasured keens. 

“Rika- R-rika…” you pant “mmf-fuck… can’t believe it’s taken this long..” the words are out of your mouth before you have the forethought to think about them “I’ve had the stupidest crush on you since we first met back when I was taking the gym challenge… you were so- ah! H-handsome and intimidating…I…thought you were a-a man and nearly called you S-sir-”

“FUCK-” her shout actually makes you jolt, and you realise she’s cumming, cunt grinding deliciously into your own as she bites down on your leg, the sudden extra jolt of pleasure-pain sending you over the edge as well with an open-mouthed scream.

Somewhere in the haze before you pass out, you make a mental note to try calling Rika ‘sir’ next time…if there was a next time.

–

It’s light out when you wake the next morning, blinking sleep from your eyes as you look out the window.

Seems the snow had only picked up during the night, most of which you don't remember after…well, everything. Save for a straw in your mouth, Rika’s gentle voice coaxing a few sips of fluid into you, and a damp cloth wiping you down, hushing your overstimulated whimpers of protest. 

Somehow she’d even managed to get you dressed again without waking you…you must have crashed hard. Yet the thing that sticks out to you is that the bed is severely lacking in another body, Rika nowhere to be found.

At first, a pit of worry sows itself into your gut. Had she gone to sleep on the couch after all that? Had she had second thoughts-

A clatter from down the hall, and her warm laughter however, abate that somewhat.

“You’re such an ungainly thing.” you hear her snicker “Hold on a second it’s nearly done, needy lizard.” 

Koraidon’s telltale ‘i'm hungry and sad, feed me’ whine quickly turns to happy chirping at the promise of food, his head turning to the hallway as you shuffle out of bed, blanket and all to trudge down the hall. happily leaving Rika to her business as he trots over to greet you, shoving his massive snout right into your belly. 

“See? All your complainin’ woke her up!” Rika snorts, resting a hand on her hip. “N’here i was trying to make you breakfast before you woke up…”

Your cheeks heat a little at the sentiment.

“Keyword is try…good luck getting any cooking past Koraidon…” you mumble softly, petting said pokemon’s head feathers down as the other trainer leaves the kitchen, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Well, initially I’d enlisted him to help, but that turned out to be a bust..” She snickers. “G’mornin.”

“M-morning..” 

Rika tilts her head at you with an amused grin “aw, actin all shy after everything that happened last night?” she muses, chuckling when all the response you give is a slightly redder face before you drop your head into Koraidon’s feathers. Her amusement soon melts away as a warm, now intimately familiar hand, comes to rest on your back. 

“Hey…” she sighs “I enjoyed myself last night… I hope you did too…” 

“I-I did… its just…I…” you nibble at your bottom lip, unable to come up with the words to describe how you’re feeling. Giddy and nervous, emotional and excited, all wrapped up into one package.

Thankfully, your companion seems to take it in stride, pressing another kiss to your temple before she returns to the kitchen.

“Oh by the way.” She pipes up after a moment. “Geeta called this morning…snow’s a little too heavy today so HQ’s shut…looks like we have a long weekend.” 

Oh, an extra day off? That's probably the best news you could have gotten today, considering your legs were still shaking like a newborn deerling…

“Nice..” you giggle, slowly shuffling towards the couch, pulling her blanket up over your shoulders as you flop down by the arm and get cozy. 

“Thats what I said.” She snickers, soon joining you with a hot plate of food. If you’d thought the galarian curry last night had been good, this trumped it, your body screaming for food after last night’s exertion. 

“Y’know, if you want…you’re more than welcome to crash here for the weekend…” Rika throws the offer casually as she eats, content smile upon her face as she watches you from the corner of her eye “Snow’s only gotten heavier since yesterday, n’I don't wantcha getting hurt tryina get home..” 

This time, you can hear the intent behind her words, the intent you couldn’t read yesterday as you turn your head towards the window, to the almost whiteout of Masagoza. You contemplate the offer as you polish off your breakfast, placing the plate on the coffee table before you, watching as Koraidon happily trots up to lick the plate clean with a happy chirp.

“Hmmm…well, if you’re happy to have me…who am I to say no…sir.” you know it’s cheeky, you know it’s going to end badly for you, but watching Rika’s face suddenly go from cool, calm and collected, to beet red is totally worth it before she shoves the last mouthful of her own food into her mouth, slamming the plate onto the table before she grabs you by the collar of your shirt and hauls you up. 

You cackle all the way down the hall as she all but drags you back to the bedroom.

You were in for a long weekend indeed.

The Cleaners Princess Kenny Omega smut

Summary: Olivia Jackson was the bullet clubs Princess, Kenny’s Princes. When she got hurt and had to put up here boots he and Kenny broke up. Now she’s back, and he and Kenny have some feelings.

Warning: Daddy kink, smut, some power kink I think, hair pulling, just generally nastiness. 

Olivia POV

3 years. It had been three years since I made a mistake in a match. Three years since I was carted out of the Tokyo dome on a stretcher. Three years since I had to retire from the sport I loved more than anything.

I couldn't get these thoughts out of my head as I drove down the road to Daileys place. I had finally gotten cleared to get back in the ring, and just in time for a huge moment on my brothers new company AEW. I turned into the parking lot of the event, and no one was out there. For a better surprise factor I was going to show up after the show already started. I found a parking spot and pulled my phone out, sending a quick text to Matt so he knew I was here.

I leaned my head forward a bit, letting it rest on the steering wheel. Was I really ready to get back in the ring? I practically jumped out of my skin when there was a knock on the window. I looked over to see Matt laughing causing me to role my eyes. I got out of the car, crossing my arms over my chest. "Really Matthew?"

"Oh calm down, it was funny." He said winking at me. "You got your bag?"

"Ya, I'm the back." I did heading around to the trunk to open it. As I pulled out my bag I looked over at Matt. "Where's my other half?"

"Fucked up his knee during our match earlier tonight. He should be fine, but we had to change the finish tonight a bit." He explained as he took my bag from me.

"You know I can carry my own shit right?" I asked as we walked to the back door.

"You sure? You couldn't back in Japan."

"That was a gimmick. You know me, living the gimmick." I joked poking his side.

"Ya, your the best at Playing entitled little sister. You kept it up even after you stopped wrestling." He said making me huff.

"That's not fair, I'm not even the youngest."

"Ya, but your the youngest of yourself, me, and Nick." He pointed out.

"Me and Nick were born the same day!"

"There was like a 5 minute difference." My head swung around to see one of my closest friends Adam page.

"What's up cowboy?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest as we stopped to talk to him.

"The sky."

"No shot Sherlock."

"Liv, watch your language." Matt mumbled shaking his head. If you went off of looks allow you would know me, Matt, and Nick were all related, but I acted so different then them. I drank about as much as Adam, and often would swear like a sailor. The only thing I had in common with them was wrestling really.

"Well I should probably get going. Got to get ready for the big night" I said winking at Adam as I turned to follow Matt down the hall.

"The Doc brought Nick back to the room before you got here, and you can get ready in here." He explained before pushing open the door. Nick is sat on the couch with his leg up, Karl was standing talking to Gallows, but Gallows wasn't looking at me. I smiled and put my finger up to my lips, telling Nick and Karl to stay quiet. Nick chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hey Matt." Karl said, clearly trying not to laugh as I snuck up behind him. I ran a few steps and jumped onto his back.

"GALLOWS!" I yelled as my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. He surged forward in surprised, his arms flying out to steady him.

"Olivia!" He said surprised as he looked at me over his shoulder. I smiled at him giggling.

"Hi." He just chuckled at me and grabbed under my knees and hoisted me up so it was more of a piggyback.

"Sometimes I wonder how your related to those to." Karl said laughing.

"I still don't think she is." Matt said rolling his eyes. I simply smiled as I jumped down from Gallows back (witch is pretty far), landing with a slight thud.

"Well, I've seen almost everyone. Where's Kenny?" I asked looking around the room, and I could feel the mood shift to uncomfortableness. I rolled my eyes at their nervousness. Me and Kenny has been dating back in Japan, I had even been known as 'The Cleaners Princess'. When I got hurt we tried the long distance, but it simply didn't work out. We split up, but we never hated each other. I still saw him when he came to see Matt and Nick in California.

"Really guys? It's been more then 2 years. Besides, I'll have to see him regularly if I'm going to be working with you again." I reminded them.

"We know. He will show up with Don at some point, it's normal to have him show up late." Nick explained as I nodded.

"Ok. I'm gonna go get changed, do my makeup, all that good shit." I said walking over to the bathroom they had. Once inside I locked the door and pulled my sweatshirt off. I did the same with my shirt and bra, but paused as I looked in the mirror. I had a couple nasty scars on my body from surgeries over the years.

My fingers traced over the small tattoo on my side. 'Livin the dream' was written in small black letters. Most of it was covered by even ring gear, so no one else knew it was there. Except of course Kenny. A dare one night after I drank a considerable amount, also the night me and Kenny got together.

I pulled myself away from the thought as I reached into my bag grabbing another bra, and my crop top version of a young Bucks tee shirt. I pulled my sweat pants I had worn here off, and pulled the ripped jeans on. The fans had always called my crazy Jackson, witch matched that I was always the 'wild child'. I then pulled out my old leather jacket. It was cold and smooth, just like the last time I put it on. I had never dared to where it out of wrestling. On the back the word 'Princess' was spelt out in light pink letters that had a look of being attached badly. I loved it. It's Time to put on a show.

—————————————————

"What's the drunkest thing you've ever done?" Kenny asked both of us sitting on the couch in his room after drinks with the guys.

"Honestly? Probably my tattoo." I answered.

"Tattoo?"

"Ya, don't you remember? On my side. I got it the night we got together." I said pointing to my left side.

"I'm gonna be honest I only remember certain parts of it." He confused taking a sip of water.

"So, how as Kenny Omega been? Nice to see the cleaner back." I said shifting a bit and pishimg at the lose hair that had come out of the ponytail.

"Why does everyone keep saying the cleaners 'back'?! I've always been him!"

"Probably just waiting for the mean ruthless Kenny. I mean, you were the guy who would do what it took to win, and you did that against Mox." I shrugged.

"I guess really that the cleaner kinda died off when you left." He admitted. "I mean, I had put a lot of time in making us the 'power couple' of the wrestling world."

"Lest be honest, we were the hottest couple. Plus I bet people are already wondering on twitter." I said pulling my phone out to open twitter. I had about a million notifications and as I clicked through them until I found one that stopped me. It read: Kenny's princess is back!! I bet she's calling his daddy tonight 😉

I felt a blush creep up my neck, and practically jumped when I felt Kenny's breath on my neck. "Well look at that. You were right." I'm sure it could look like he was just reading the tweet for the hell of it, but I could hear the change in his voice. I get his hands on my waist as he turned me towards him, our faces inches apart.

"I don't think I told you how much I've missed seeing you in the ring." He whispered, thumbs rubbing at my sides. "Did you miss me?"

"Depends on the part." I whispered, my hand moving up to his hair, and I gripped it lightly. "I missed playing with your long hair," I let my hands move along his arms to his fingers, "I've missed your muscle, and these fingers." I mumbled running my hand on them. "And I've course this." I whispered as o reached down and palmed his dick, and I could feel it was rock hard.

He groaned out and pulled me into a rough kiss that had our teeth clashing together. We continued to make out as my hands went back to his hair, pulling lightly now and again. When he finally pulled away we were both breathing heavily. "You know your a teas right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked turning my head in confusion.

"This damn jacket. Last I checked you were The Cleaners Princess anymore." He whispered in his rough voice. He leaned forward a bit to nip at my neck.

"Maybe I miss being your princess."

"Well, I may just have some great news, there is an audition for that exact spot." He whispered pulling jacket from my shoulders slowly.

"What do I have to do?"

'Make the king feel good." I knew immediately what that meant, and slid from the couch to the ground letting out a small sound of pain when I hit the ground. "Careful babe. You will be making those sounds a bit later."

I reached forward and undid his pants and with his help pulled his jeans and boxers. His length stood tall and hard in front of me, the head an angry red. I looked up at him as he gave me a nod and I reached forward. As my hand wrapped around he moaned out. I ran my hand up and down it a bit before Kenny grabbed me by the hair. You better get sucking baby."

He lead me with my hair as my mouth wrapped around his tip. I recognized the taste, witch caused me to moan out, making him moan from the feeling. He lead me up and down for a bit, and I could feel him trying not to thrust up. "Fuck it." He mumbled pulling me off him and yanking me to his lap. He reached up and didn't even Try taking my shirt and bra off before he just ripped it. "Get your god damn pants off." He growled into my ear. I stood up quickly pulling them off, and when I looked back Kenny was waiting.

I crawled back into his lap, making him hold my hips. "Rode me slut." He whispered, making me shudder. He hadn't prepared me at all, so as I snuck down I could tell I was tight, but clearly didn't care. Once I bottomed out is at for a moment, trying to catch my breath. He leans forward his breath on my ear. "Bounce bitch."

Immediate I started riding him like I would die if I stoped. "Fuck, Kenny!" I moaned as I bounced. I get his mouth take one of my buds into his mouth as he sucked harshly.

"Let's use the right name. You've done this before." He said sternly. I could feel my climax coming, and knew he wouldn't let me off that easy.

"Fuck Daddy! I'm so close please!" I moaned as I tried to keep up my pace, slamming down on his Enyo match his thrust.

"Fuck do it princess." He encouraged making me shudder as I came. My body practically going limp. He pushed me forward off of his lap to the ground and positioned his dock in my face as he started to jerk off. I watched as he got closer, and stuck out my tongue as he came all over my face. Neither of us moved for a moment before Kenny pulled my back up, my legs shaking as I got up. He reached over and grabbed some blanket and used it to wipe us both off.

"House keeping is going to hate you." I mumbled my eyes already feeling heavy.

"I think I'll survive." He said pulling me closer. Did this mean we still liked each other? I pushed the thought away, just wanting Kenny to hold me as I slept.

AN: I really liked writing this and though about make a full series about it. Would any read it if I did?

Just Friends (Part 8)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: this chapter is dedicated to exrthangel because she’s honestly the sweetest thing ever and she’s studying so hard rn ❤️

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin

Other Parts: See Masterlist

You had read the message over and over again ever since you had received it a couple of days ago: I have a surprise for Friday. Will pick you up at 6. Wear dark clothes.

What the hell did he have up his sleeve? Why the dark clothes? You were utterly confused as you on Friday afternoon pulled on a pair of black jeans, a black top, and your leather jacket.

At 5.55 pm, you were tying the shoelaces on a pair of combat boots when you heard Samantha exclaim from her seat in the window sill, "are you kidding me?!"

"Oh no," you groaned, "what is it?"

Samantha was looking out the window with her mouth hanging open when she suddenly started to laugh, "he has a bloody motorbike," she said in disbelief, "Where'd you find this boy? He's textbook American!"

You rushed to Samantha's side and saw Rafa on a motorbike, wearing an outfit that was roughly matching yours. He pulled off his helmet and flipped his hair before he started walking towards the front door.

"Oh, and he's cute up close too!" Samantha said as she studied him swagger up to your house.

You hurried towards the front door, calling out to Samantha, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Oh no! You do not get off that easily!" Samantha ran from the window sill and held you back at the door, "I am going to meet this guy who's all you've been able to talk about since New Years!"

You heard a low chuckle coming from the other side of the door, "aw, you tell your friends about that guy?" Rafa spoke from the other side of the closed front door, his voice sounding as if it was about to burst with happiness.

"Not when he butts in on private conversations going on behind closed doors," you mocked him.

You could hear him chuckle slightly before Samantha in one swift motion turned the doorknob and opened the door to a smiling Rafa.

"Ladies," he nodded to both of you, sending you a wink. You had to give it to Samantha; he did look particularly good up close.

"Rafa, this is my roomie Samantha," you cleared your throat, "Samantha this is... the guy I've been talking about apparently."

Samantha extended her hand, "Nice to finally meet you. I'm Samantha."

Rafa took her hand, "likewise. I'm Rafael."

"Your real name is Rafael?" it slipped out of you and Samantha sent you a weird look.

"Yeah, what'd you think Rafa was short for?" he laughed, his crooked tooth somehow more fetching than usual.

"I honestly haven't given it much thought," you laughed and he sent you a sappy smile looking at you very softly for a couple of seconds.

Samantha noticed the sexual tension and decided to break it, "well you two have fun, yeah? I won't wait up so don't bother having her home on this side of midnight. The magic won't wear off, I swear," Samantha winked before she let you and Rafa go.

"See you later, Samantha," Rafa chuckled as he stepped down from the porch.

'Stop that!' you mouthed to your grinning roomie before you followed Rafa.

You heard the front door close shut behind you, and first then did Rafa whip around, "are you ready for the best friend-date you've ever been on?" he said theatrically.

"You bet!" you matched his level of excitement, "although I'm a bit nervous as to what we'll be doing with that," you gestured to his motorbike, while dreading his answer.

"We're going for a ride," he said dramatically and threw you one of two helmets that had been lying on the seat.

"You're not serious... I'm not going on the back of that!"

"Do you not trust me?" He smirked as he climbed the bike.

"Of course, but..."

"Then get up. I'll go slow, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"You're gonna love it!"

"O-okay," you said and swung your leg over the seat, tightening your helmet significantly.

"Just hold on tight, okay?"

"Hold on tight to what? There are no handlebars back here," you said in a panicky voice.

"Hold on to me of course," Rafa laughed.

Your arms snaked nervously around his waist, and he put a reassuring hand on top of yours for just a second before he took a deep breath and retracted it again. You couldn't help but wonder if this was the exact reason why he had wanted you on the back of his bike in the first place.

He turned the engine and slowly drove away from your townhouse while you whimpered in the backseat. He started off by slowly going through your neighbourhood checking on you regularly while you felt more and more comfortable on the bike. Every time he felt your arms loosen their grip around him, he sped up slightly, causing you to tighten your grab around his waist significantly. You were quickly comfortable with his full control over the bike, however, and actually had to admit that you were enjoying the fast-paced way of getting around the city.

"We can go faster than this," you bellowed over the sound of the motor a couple of minutes in.

Rafa didn't need telling twice and quickly sped up the bike while you squealed in the backseat, holding on tight to him again. You rode all the way down Sunset Boulevard until you reached the coast close to the Santa Monica Pier. The bike came to a halt right before the beach.

"That was amazing," you laughed completely high from the ride.

He smiled proudly to himself as he turned off the bike, "What did I tell you? I knew you'd love it!"

"I did," you said excitedly, "thanks for making me do it!”

He looked at you tenderly for a few seconds before he came to his senses, "come. We're going over here," he said and put a hand on your leather-clad back leading you to a sketchy looking hotdog stand, where he placed an order for two of the most popular kind.

"Really?" you asked him with raised eyebrows as he handed you one of the hot dogs.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," he laughed as you sat down on a bench overlooking the dark beach, the sky a beautiful lilac colour as you had just missed the sunset, "I was hoping it might lead to the story behind your tattoo," he sent you a crooked smile.

"God you're the worst," you laughed at him, "Alright then - but I'll only tell you because that was a really smooth move. And I'm having a bite of the hotdog first."

"Let me know what you think," he looked at you excitedly.

"They're that good?" you laughed as you took in his excitement.

"Oh you're about to taste a tiny bit of heaven," Rafa smiled, "Diggs is quite the hotdog connoisseur and he recommended the place to me way back in the day. They have bratwursts shipped in from Germany."

"You have expertise in both chillies and German sausages? You're a man of the world, aren't you?" you teased him.

"Shut up and eat your hot dog," he grinned.

You took a large bite of the sausage which was definitely one of the best you'd ever had, "oh bloody hell! This is good," you practically moaned while rolling your eyes backwards in an attempt to show Rafa exactly how much you liked his choice of dinner.

"Hey, you cannot do that," he looked panicky as he desperately elbowed you in the ribs to get you to stop, "you're giving me the chubs," he shot you an awkward laugh.

"That's all it takes?" you laughed at him.

"Hey, I'm a simple man: I see a beautiful girl putting penis-shaped foods into her mouth all the while she's moaning and her eyes are rolling to the back of her head - and the rest is physiology," he smirked and bit into his own hot dog.

"I'm beginning to suspect that's the real reason why you took me here," you laughed at him.

"Hey, don't make me out to be some creep, okay?" He laughed, "I'm your innocent friend Rafa who just loves hot dogs and beautiful women - especially the two combined. Now tell me the story behind that tattoo dammit!”

"If you must know," you groaned, "I got it at Glastonbury when I had just turned eighteen. It was part of a bet."

"Really?" He looked amused, "What did you get out of it?"

"My friends paid for the tattoo and paid me a hundred quid for it - which was a fairly good amount of money back then," you laughed.

"That's what? 130 dollars or something? I sure hope you bought yourself a car with that kind of money," Rafa joked.

"I spent all of it on booze that night alone," you laughed.

"I probably would've done the same thing to be honest," he chuckled.

"So we're both smart people!"

"PhD-smart," he tapped his temple while winking at you, "speaking of; how's your project coming?"

"Good," you nodded, "although, I'm a bit behind schedule with the project I'm working on over here. The next couple of weeks are without a doubt going to be quite busy," you sighed, "I'm not going to have much free-time."

He grunted in response, probably aware of what that meant in regards to your already limited time together.

"I constantly need to remind myself why I'm here and why I'm even doing the project," you eyed him. You wanted to tell him that he had made it hard for you to concentrate on anything apart from him but ended up deciding against it.

"Yeah? What made you decide to do the project in the first place?"

"Because it's the coolest thing ever," you bumped your knee into his.

"Yeah?" He grinned at the contact, "what's your thesis about? Explain it to me as if I'm five because I don't know science for shit."

You laughed at him and told him all about what your PhD was about, explaining it as simple as you possibly could.

"Sounds complicated," he blew out some air when you were done.

"Nah. It's just like learning a new language," you shrugged, "you get the hang of it."

"How are you so nonchalant about almost finishing a PhD?" he laughed, "it's fucking difficult and you've worked hard for it. Don't play it down. Tell me how hard it is to come this far and how amazing you are at it!"

"It's hard and I'm amazing?" you said half-heartedly with a laugh.

"Oh come on. Do it with a bit more gusto. Don't go all British on me."

"Uhm... it's hard and I'm amazing," you said a bit more resolutely this time.

"Damn straight!" he said loudly, "a project like yours does not come easy to anybody. Don't take away your own victory."

"Alright, alright, I guess I did work quite hard. But I'm very privileged to even have the chance to do it."

"Yep, that's fine and whatever," he rolled his eyes at you "- Now tell me how you really feel about it."

You eyed him for a couple of seconds. Was he really able to see right through you so easily? "Okay," you sighed, "at first all the lab work was fun but now it's kind of draining and I cannot wait until I'm done so I can start something new!" you laughed, "also, right now I hate the project because it takes away my very limited time with you."

He looked at you and tried to hide a proud smile. "Look at you being all honest," he nudged you softly in the ribs and winked at you before he responded to what you'd said, "when are you handing in your thesis?"

"If all goes well, it'll be done before summer."

"And then what?" he nodded slowly.

"Ah yes! The million dollar question," you laughed, "I don't know. Maybe a post.doc?"

"You're gonna spend your whole life in academia?" he looked at you intently, "how much money do you have?"

"You get paid a fair salary when you're doing a PhD - and tuition is free in most of Europe so you can just go to another country and study if you don't have the money for it."

"WHAT?" he bellowed, "Tuition... is... free? You’re kidding! What kind of a hippie continent is that and when can I move there?"

You laughed at him, "European welfare, boom!" You said while dropping the hotdog wrapper into the trashcan next to the bench, "Europe 1 - America 0."

"You bet," he mumbled, "Ah, I probably wouldn't have lasted a day anyway. I got kicked out of high school, you know."

"You did? What'd you do?"

"That's a story for some other day," he smiled at you, "come, I have another surprise for you."

He helped you up from the bench and snaked his hand around your waist as you walked over to the bike in silence. You wanted to tell him that what he was doing felt close to violating your code of conduct but just like the other night, his hand around you made you feel safe and warm, so you let him keep it there.

You rode back up Sunset Boulevard telling yourself repeatedly that safety was the only reason for your tightly wrapped arms around his waist.

A couple of minutes later, Rafa parked the bike outside a brick building with a big sign reading 'THE ECHOPLEX presents CLIPPING.'

You could hear the music boom from inside. "Is this a concert venue?" you asked him.

"Yep," he said, "you and I have tickets for the hottest shit in L.A."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to try and convert me into a rap-lover?" you laughed, "I haven't even listened that much to your playlist."

"I'm not going to covert you," Rafa smirked, "Diggs is."

"Oh, we're meeting up with Daveed?" you said not really sure if you were excited about seeing him or disappointed that you'd have to share Rafa with him.

"...Kind of," Rafa said mysteriously.

"I'm intrigued," you said as you handed him your helmet.

He put it on the bike and took your hand, "Come on, we're late. The show's already started."

He showed the bouncer two laminated tickets and handed you one of them afterwards, "put this around your neck."

"Backstage pass?" you arched an eyebrow as you read the inscription, "really?"

"I came to impress," he laughed, "you want something to drink?"

"A beer would be lovely," you nodded, looking at the stage where a man was rapping rapidly to weird noises and sounds. You weren't really sure that this was anything for you.

Rafa came back a short while later and handed you a local beer. "I brought you an IPA," he laughed, "I figured you'd appreciate my average white-male taste."

"I like IPAs too," you laughed, "this music on the other hand is..." your voice trailed off.

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, Rafa," you laughed and pointed towards the stage, "what the hell is this shit because it surely isn't music! Don't tell me that you actually find this good."

"You did not just say that!" he looked at you with an amused face.

"What?"

"Have you even seen who's performing?" he laughed whole-heartedly and pointed towards the stage.

The guy rapping shirtless at the front was spitting bars and hyping people up, and first then did you realise that you knew him, "Hold up! Is that Daveed?"

Rafa laughed at you, his hand coming to a rest on the small of your back as he leaned in and whispered in a teasing voice, "I'm going to tell him that you think his music's shit."

"You wouldn't dare," you leaned threateningly close and squinted your eyes at him.

"Oh, but I would - so you better behave," he said devilishly, his gaze wandering between your lips and your eyes, clearly thinking about kissing you. When you noticed, it once again took everything in you to pull back and turn towards the stage instead. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rafa take a deep breath before turning to the stage as well with a somewhat pained expression in his eyes. He slowly found the rhythm of the music, head bopping in time with the beat while he started quietly rapping along.

-

"I can't believe he's a rapper," you laughed when the concert was over and you were heading towards the backstage area, "normally he looks so... innocent - but up there he's so... raw!" You laughed and felt the many beers that you and Rafa had shared.

"Easy girl," Rafa laughed, "don't go change me out for Diggs.”

You sent him a look that he most certainly was familiar with by now.

"I know," he chuckled, "just friends. That's what I meant," he lied, "come on, they're in here," he pushed open the door to the band's private room.

"Alright, guys!" Rafa yelled in best hype-man style as he waltzed across the room to the mini fridge in the back, walking as if the owned the room, "well done. Great show! Even my homegirl here agrees."

You waved to the three guys, "very nice show. Love the energy."

"Glad you enjoyed it," Daveed nodded, "Rafa mentioned that you don't really get rap music - did we manage to change your mind?"

"I think the show was really great," you said slowly trying to figure out a way to not hurt his feelings.

"It's not for everyone. I get it, no worries," he laughed, "Just don't tell Rafa; it would just break his heart."

"Hey - quick question," you whispered, "what do you think would rile Rafa up the most: criticising rap music in general or criticising his beloved chili sauces?"

It made Daveed chuckle, "hot sauce! For sure. Did you not hear his lecture the other day? He takes that shit very seriously and just goes on and on and on to anybody that'll listen."

"Who are you guys talking about?" Rafa emerged at your side, casually draping his arm across your shoulder as he handed you and Daveed a beer each.

"No one," you and Daveed said in unison.

"Are you plotting against me?" Rafa chuckled, "should I be concerned?"

"No," you both said at the same time looking excitedly at each other.

"Right..." Rafa pulled you just a little closer to him, clearly wanting to show his friend that he needed to know his place - subconsciously or not, you did not know.

"So... what do you guys usually do after concerts?" you asked, hoping to break the tension you felt in Rafa who was now pressed completely up against your side.

"We get high," Daveed laughed, "I was just about to ask..."

"Don't worry, I didn't take you here to get high," Rafa interrupted his best friend and sent you a smile.

"It's okay! If it's what you usually do, I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Rafa shot you a look, "it feels like kind of a dick move on my part to meet up with a bunch of my friends and get high when we're on a date."

"I thought you were just friends," Daveed mumbled without looking up from the cone he was folding.

"He gets it," you smiled and sat down on the sofa next to Daveed.  

"Okay, sure," Rafa nodded and sat down next to you with a small laugh, "I guess I could get high too if you're definitely up for it."

"I am," you sent him a grin.

"Alright, let's do this," Rafa said and draped his arm around your shoulders.

"Oh god, I haven't done this since I was twenty," you were slightly nervous as you eyed the blunt that Daveed was now lighting up.

"So last year?" Rafa teased.

"Easy grandpa, I'm 29."

"Ah yes, so young and innocent. So easy to manipulate!" he sighed, "I remember when I was your age."

"And you're what? Four years older than me?" You arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, but the years between 29 and 33 are really what define you as a person," he smiled and put his arm back around your shoulder.

Daveed took a puff of the joint before handing it to you, "Here you go," he said, "It's strong so you probably don't need that much."

You inhaled slightly, resisting the urge to cough before you quickly exhaled a mouthful of smoke already feeling its effects, "oh damn," you said as you already felt yourself growing relaxed and careless. You quickly took your second puff before passing it along to Rafa who was clearly more experienced than you were. He puffed it twice as well before he passed it on to Daveed's band mate Will. You held out your fingers, ready for hit number three.

Rafa raised an eyebrow at you, "are you sure?"

"Yep," you said, your speech a little slurred but you were sure you could take it.

The third hit of the joint hit you like a truck, "oh fuck," you exhaled as you felt a wave of warmth wash over you.

"You okay?" Rafa laughed at you as he took hit number four himself. His eyes were bloodshot but apart from that, he kept it together.

"Yep," you said as you slumped on the sofa.

"You look like a slug," Rafa mimicked you, arms hanging to the side, his chin pressed tightly against his sternum.

"But a cute slug," you pouted.

"The cutest," he snickered, his hands brushing slightly against your knuckles before his fingers entangled themselves in yours.

"Mmmh," you hummed at his touch, all thoughts of what you should or shouldn't do, gone. You couldn't remember if you'd ever been this carefree and relaxed before. Especially when his thumb was caressing your hand as he sent you a cute smile.

Looking into Rafa's bloodshot eyes, you reminded yourself that you needed to keep your cool. You were both drunk and high. You shouldn't be doing this no matter how much you wanted it. So you retracted your fingers from his and sat up straight on the sofa. "I need a beer," you mumbled and walked over to the fridge in the far corner.

"Yeah, bring me one too," Daveed called, "- maybe an entire round. My main man Will is looking a little thirsty over here," he nodded towards his band member who was clearly experiencing cotton mouth.

You looked back at the men in the sofa and counted each of them; thus you picked up four beers and slowly walked back to them. Rafa was staring at you through heavy-hooded eyelids with a smug expression on his face. He was looking very very fuckable as he slid down further on the sofa, spreading his legs slightly as you neared him. You really just wanted to say fuck it all and jump him - but no, you weren't going to go down that road. You had made a promise to each other. A promise you intended to keep no matter how high you were.

You sat down a beer in front of each of the men before realising that you had forgotten one for yourself. Giggling slightly at your own high, you returned to the fridge where you bent over and picked up yet another beer.

"Are you on a mission to torture me?" Rafa's hush voice sounded from behind you, "because bending over like that twice in a span of thirty seconds is just plain mean..."

"What?" You turned around, now face to face with him.

He stepped closer, "I'm sure you're aware of the effect that you have on me. Especially when you bend over like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said innocently, an involuntary smile spreading slowly on your lips as you took in his pained expression.

"Fuck!" he hissed, "That - that - is exactly what I'm talking about," he stepped as close to you as he possibly could without touching you, "half the time you look so innocent and doe-eyed and then suddenly - boom - your innocence is replaced by these... mewling sex-kitten looks and fuck it's hard to keep my hands to myself when we both know what we want - Regardless of your code," he ended up sighing.

He still wasn't touching you but the way he was moving his face told you that he was fighting hard to not kiss you. And to be honest, you were fighting too.

"It's not on purpose," you said, looking up at him, "I'm not so evil that I'd dangle bait in front of you on purpose and then get angry when you bite into it."

"I don't care that you're not doing it on purpose," he grinned and licked his lips, "you're still doing it. And I really want to fuck you right now."

"Too bad you can't," you said.

"You're really strong-willed, aren't you?"

"You don't move half-across the globe for a project you've lost interest in if you're not strong-willed."

He leaned in closer, lips hovering above yours but never touching, "fuck, it's so hard not to touch you..." he groaned, "I hate being friends with you."

"I hate being friends with you," you said softly, almost giving in and closing the distance.

Your moment of weakness, however, was interrupted by Daveed who gave out a loud whistle to get your attention. "Rafa!" he bellowed, "Party's moving downtown."

Rafa grunted in response, turning his attention back to you, "do you want to go?"

"Not really," you said, gulping up at him.

"Me neither..." Rafa responded and fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt, "do you want to come back to mine?"

"That sounds dangerous," you smiled and avoided his gaze, instead fixating on the thin golden necklace he was wearing.

"I won't try anything," he grumbled above you, "I promise - okay? We could just... watch the rest of the movie from the other night."

You looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot but soft as he watched you contemplate your answer. "Okay," you ended up whispering, already knowing that you were now doomed. You just couldn't help yourself with him. Especially not when high and with alcohol coursing through your veins.

Rafa sent you a smirk, "good girl," he whispered darkly, sending shivers down your spine. "Diggs, we're not coming."

"Right," Daveed nodded, "see you guys later. Have fun," he shot you a smirk.

Rafa quickly ordered an Uber while you pulled on your leather jacket and started walking towards the exit. Rafa was walking behind you, his gaze almost burning a hole in your jeans as you swung your hips a bit more vigorously than you normally would've done. Not to get his attention, you told yourself.

When you arrived outside, the car was already waiting for you. You both got in the backseat, and intentionally left the middle seat empty between you. No need to tempt the devil.

You hadn't driven for more than a couple of seconds, however, before you noticed that Rafa was already having a hard time sticking to his promise of not trying anything with you, "I didn't even get a chance to tell you how amazing you look tonight," he put his neck on the headrest and looked over at you.

"Thanks," you smiled at him, "you look very handsome yourself."

His hand twitched in his lap as if he had decided to reach out and touch you had but reconsidered at the last possible moment. With a sigh, he turned his head and looked out the window instead, completely silent for the rest of the journey to his place.

The Absolute Worst

Summary: You accompany your brother, a newly famous YouTuber, to the Dolans house for a collab.  Through a series of misunderstandings, you determine that Ethan Dolan is the worst human being in the world. Luckily, the feelings are mutual. Much to your chagrin, because of a misstep on your part, you are now quarantining with Dolans for 14 days. Your only hope is to make it through the tension without it all blowing up in your face.

Warnings: Angsty in the beginning, then smut and then fluff towards the end. (Just in case this isn’t clear...single!Ethan)

You touched your face with disbelief as you stared up at Ethan Dolan’s smug face.  You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten to put on your mask, and of all times now? Your face turned red hot as your hand dipped into your pocket to pull out the triple layered fabric mask. You slipped it behind each ear sheepishly, unable to meet Ethan’s eyes.

“What was that about my brother and I being socially irresponsible?” Ethan asked you, folding his arms. “I believe you went as far to say that we are terrible role models for our incredibly young fanbase.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know how he was staring at you.  Besides glaring at him all day, you had followed the twins for a couple years.  Ethan seemed to be a sweet guy, with his boyish look of large hazel eyes, tousled dark brown hair and rosy red cheeks.  The behavior you saw today revealed him to be a complete douche bag.

For starters, when you first arrived with your brother, the boys were too busy to greet you.  Something was so important on their phones that they could not tear themselves away.  You and your brother watched them awkwardly in silence, wondering what to do.  It was only when you cleared your throat did Grayson look up and introduce himself.  He had to yell Ethan’s name and slap him on the shoulder to get Ethan to pay attention.

The boys gave you and your brother a tour of their estate, and Ethan lingered around his car to brag about it.  As he drowned on and on about his Tesla, you looked at your brother with a worried expression.  Your brother was younger than you, and quite impressionable.  His most recent video recently gained popularity earning him a check from YouTube with more zeroes than anyone in your family had seen in their lifetime.  Your entire family respected that it was your brother’s money, but everyone was praying he didn’t do anything foolish with it.  Given the fact your brother could not even drive without a licensed driver accompanying him, you didn’t like the starry look in your brother’s eyes when Ethan bragged about the car.  Your heart almost dropped to your stomach when your brother agreed and said, “I’m definitely buying a Tesla.”

“Y/b/n,” You said in a warning tone. “You should really focus on getting a place to live...”

“Lay off, Y/n.” Your brother whispered to you, harshly.

You were a bit taken aback. Your brother never spoke to you like that...at least not in public.  You had a fairly good relationship, and he knew you meant well.  You instantly blamed it on the fact he was trying to look cool in front of Ethan.  

“If you need a place to live,” Grayson smiled, walking over to a navy blue wrapped van.  “How about this nice van?”

You blinked slowly.  Why on Earth would your teenage brother want a van?

“Is this the van from your cross country trip?!” Your brother yelled, running over to it.

“Oh hell no...” You said a little too loudly.  The last thing you wanted was for your fanboy brother to get duped into buying a lemon. You put your hands on your hips. “And how much is this van, Mr. Dolan?”

Grayson’s eyebrows went up at the accusatory tone, and you saw Ethan’s shoulders square up behind his brother.  You didn’t back down. Sure, they were large muscular dudes, but you weren’t a coward. At least...not when it came to your younger brother.

“It depends on how much you want to offer...” Grayson said, recovering from his shock with a soft smile.

“How much did you buy it for?” You asked, cutting off your brother before he could jump in.

“$75,000...” Ethan said, folding his arms as he walked forward. “But we’re selling it for 74, plus $100 since Grayson took the time to build it up nicely.”

You gulped.  You glanced at your brother who had fallen silent.  That was more than what was in his bank account at the moment.  You definitely couldn’t afford that.

“It’s less than the Tesla...” Grayson offered with a soft laugh.

You watched as your brother’s eyes widened, followed by the slump of his shoulders.  You sighed.  Great, now your brother felt like a loser because he couldn’t afford these fancy cars.

“If you’re done flaunting, it would be nice to start the video.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Y/n...” Your brother frowned. “Don’t be rude.”

Your jaw dropped behind your mask as you looked at your brother with shock.  You were being rude? They were the ones making your brother feel inferior!

“No, Miss Y/l/n is right.” Ethan said, walking past you to the tiny shed where they were going to film the video. “We should get this show on the road.”

You knew he was making fun of you for calling Grayson Mr. Dolan, but you didn’t care. The faster you could get out of this house, the better.

Just as you were getting started filming, Ethan got a call.  He left to answer it, but then ran back in with haste.  

“Gray, we gotta go! The interview has been moved up to this afternoon.” Ethan announced.

“Wait, what?” Grayson asked, looking at his watch.  “What time?”

“4pm.” Ethan answered.

“Damn...” Grayson stood up. “We need to leave now if we’re gonna make it.  Sorry, man.  Can we take a rain check?” Grayson looked at your brother sumpathetically.

Your brother nodded, disappointed, but he clearly understood.  You, however, did not.

“How do they move up an interview last minute?” You asked.

Ethan frowned. “It was a mistake made by my assistant.  She mixed up the dates.”

“I thought you said it was moved up?” You questioned.

“I didn’t think I needed to give the gory details.” Ethan groaned.  “Honestly, I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, sorry!” You put your hands up in defense.  “Excuse the fact that we don’t actually live around here and had to taken an Uber 2 hours to get here. The least you could do was make our time worth it.  But no, go to your interview.”

“Y/n...” Your brother whined.  “...it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” You argued, looking at your brother.  You could feel your face soften when you saw the embarrassment in his eyes.  You felt like your mother humiliating him in front of his classmates.

“Sorry...I’m not myself today.” You said, more to the boys than to your brother.  “Let’s reschedule.”

“No...” Ethan said, clearly a mix of annoyed and amused, “Come with us to the interview and we will finish filming after.  It’s not like we need daylight or anything. Does that work for you, Miss Y/l/n?”

You looked at your brother who nodded, so you nodded as well.

You rode in the Tesla to the studio where the interview was taking place.  Your brother was texting you and you did your best to not let your annoyance show on your face.

Y/b/n: Can you stop being so mean? What’s up with you??

Y/n: ME???? I’m not the one treating people like second class citizens. They are such jerks.

Y/b/n: Why because they have nice cars? Because they have busy schedules?

Y/n: Because they are PHONY. How do ignore to people sitting right in front of you? How do you claim to be down to Earth and sell a teenager a $74k van?

Y/b/n: Can you just stop? You’re blowing it out of proportion.

You sat back in the seat with pursued lips as you looked out the window.  Your brother did the same, looking the other way.  You knew the conversation was over for awhile.

You watched from the sidelines as the twins did their interview, scoffing every now and then.  You would occasionally see Ethan looking at you and you did nothing to hide your disdain. He didn’t say anything about it until your drove back to the house.  Now around 7pm, Grayson offered to pick up food for you all to eat. Your brother volunteered to go with him and before you knew what was happening, you were left alone with Ethan Dolan in his kitchen.

“What was so funny during the interview?” Ethan asked, his eyes dark and his jaw set.  His hands were on the counter top supporting his weight as he looked at you. His blue medical mask was tucked a bit under his nose, adding emphasis to the glare in his eyes.

“I just couldn’t get over how easily you lie.” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh?” Ethan asked, quirking a brow. “When did I lie?”

“Well, for one thing, they complimented you on your manners, but little did they know how poorly you treated your guests today.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Huh, okay.” Ethan nodded slowly, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. “But that’s a matter of opinion, no?”

“I don’t think...” Your voice faltered as you realized it really was. But who was he to tell someone that they should not feel upset about how he treated them?

“Please, continue.” Ethan folded his arms on the counter, lifting one up to rest his cheek on his palm.  “This is fun.”

‘What a condescending prick.’ You thought.

“Fine.” You humored him. “How about the fact that you claimed to be observing the covid procedures, but the first time I saw you whip on a mask today was right before we walked in to the studio. Not to mention the countless times we see you online around people without a mask.”

“I stood six feet apart from you until we were in the car.” Ethan said, defensively. 

“Sure, fine.” You agreed. “But what about the second point? You should take responsibility to at least quarantine with people if you are going to be regularly collaborating.”

“Am I supposed to quarantine with every single person I am less than six feet away from without a mask?” Ethan asked with a smirk.

“Yes!” You said, incredulously. “Have you been ignoring the news?”

“So, are you saying that you do?” Ethan asked. “Little miss perfect?”

You rose your head proudly. “Yes, I do.” 

When Ethan didn’t say anything you stood up taller and continued. “I can’t tell you how to treat others, but I think you are being socially irresponsible to not at least adhere to the health rules set by the state of California.  Most of your fanbase is incredibly young and you are setting a poor example for them.”

“I see.” Ethan leaned over the counter to touch your hand. “This is about 3 feet.”

He looked up at your through his long lashes with a bright, mischievous grin. “You, young lady, have forgotten to put on your mask.  What does that make of you?”

Which  leads us to where we first started. As you recalled the fact that had put your mask in your pocket when you guzzled water from your water bottle, you suddenly realized in the confusion of ordering dinner, you forgot to put it back on. Ethan who was now standing on the same side of the counter as you from six feet away, stood there mockingly.

“What was that about my brother and I being socially irresponsible?” Ethan asked you, folding his arms. “I believe you went as far to say that we are terrible role models for our incredibly young fanbase.”

“Ethan...” You started, as you put on your mask.

“Oh, I don’t get a Mr. Dolan?” Ethan tsked. “How rude.”

Your stomach turned.  You wanted to vomit. The thought of apologizing to Ethan Dolan revolted you. You met his eyes, putting on a false air of confidence.

“I was wrong. While I try to consistently follow the rules, even I can make mistakes.” You didn’t say sorry, but you hoped it would be counted as an apology nonetheless.

“So,” Ethan smirked walking a step closer. “By your rules, and the rules of the state of California, doesn’t that mean that we should quarantine together?”

You felt face flush and your eyes go wide.  You stammered your reply. “Of course not! I have to self-isolate myself, but why on Earth do we have to do it together?”

“Am I supposed to believe you can self-isolate at home?” Ethan asked.

You looked down.  You couldn’t.  You and your brother were currently staying with a few friends while you tried to find a place of his own. It would be, to use your own words, socially irresponsible, to go back to a friend’s place without taking the proper safety precautions.

“Grayson and I are actually staying at an Airbnb.  As you can see, our house is currently under construction” Ethan gestured to the tarp on some of the furniture. “We have a spare guest room for you and your brother. You can stay there, we can film a few videos with your brother, and you can make sure everyone is safe.”

“I--” 

Before you could respond, the door opened.  Grayson and your brother walked in with a feast of food for you all to share.  They instantly recognized the tension between you two and Grayson looked to Ethan for an explanation.  With the largest, phoniest smile you had ever seen, Ethan declared, “Y/n and Y/b/n will be staying with us!”

“What?” Your brother and Grayson asked in unison.

“I’ll explain .” You told your brother as you walked over to him.  You started to push him toward the front of the house to speak to him privately. You turned around to look at Ethan and said,

“We will not be imposing on you for free.” You said, sternly. “We can talk finances after I talk to my brother.”

It was your fifth day staying with the Dolans and it felt like an eternity.  You decided on paying $500 for your two week stay, far cheaper than any place in California would request for two people.  To make up for it, you offered to do some of the cooking and most of the cleaning. Since you were able to work online, you would use your lunch break and after work to prep the meals.  

Food was the only thing you and Ethan could agree on.  He would compliment your meals, as he could only really make breakfast.  You were grateful for the times he would present you with pancakes while you worked. 

Outside of food, you bickered all the time.  You didn’t like his attitude, his unsolicited advice, and cocky smirk. He apparently didn’t like your temper and your over-protectiveness of your brother that caused you to butt into conversations that did not concern you.  On the other hand, Grayson and your brother got along quite well.  They frequently worked out together and went surfing together.  It was the most happy you had seen your brother since he moved to LA.  You still wanted to leave the Dolans, but you hoped that Grayson would still be a good friend to your brother after you both had left their residence.

After all, you had no intentions of staying in Los Angeles forever.  Unlike your brother, there was nothing drawing you to the city.  It was one of the reasons you were being so harsh on your brother.  If he was going to be out here alone, he needed to be taught how to spot those who had his best interest at heart.  There was no doubt in your mind that Ethan Dolan could not care less about anyone but himself and his brother.  He was the absolute worst.

It was Saturday and thus your brother and Grayson went to surf.  You were surprised when you emerged in the kitchen to see Ethan cooking pancakes.  You assumed you were in the house alone.

“Why aren’t you surfing with them?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, good morning Miss Y/l/n. I am doing well, thank you for asking.” Ethan remarked, not looking up from the frying pan he was coating with coconut oil.  “For your information, I don’t like surfing.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, opening the fridge.  As you pulled out the water bottle you had chilling overnight, you felt Ethan’s eyes on you.  

You became incredibly aware that you were wearing a night set that was in the luggage your friend dropped off the first night of your stay.  Since you thought you were alone you didn’t bother to change, but now you felt embarrassed.  It was one of those cartoon print night sets with a tank top and matching shorts.  The top was quite large so it covered the top half of the shorts, but the shorts were small and didn’t cover much of your behind.  It looked a bit ridiculous, but it was surprisingly comfortable.

“Cute set.” Ethan commented.

You turned to look at him, expecting to see some kind of tease in his eyes, but you didn’t. He was staring at you almost blankly, as if he was waiting for your reaction.

“Thanks.” You said, sipping your water bottle. 

Ethan placed a small pancake on a plate and used the fork on the side to cut it. He blew on it gently, bringing your attention to his full, pale pink lips.  He walked over to you and held out the fork.

“Tell me what you think, new recipe.” He asked, cupping the fork as he brought it to you.

You removed the bottle from your mouth and opened your mouth to receive the pancake.  Ethan’s hand rested on your chin and you blushed. You chewed slowly and put a thumbs up of approval.  You covered your mouth before saying,

“It’s really good. Like you don’t need syrup or anything.” You reviewed.

Ethan’s eyes lit up and for a second, you saw the YouTuber you witnessed on the internet.  He didn’t seem like the monster you had been arguing with the last few days.

“I”m glad you like it.” Ethan grinned. “You inspired me to try new things with your unique recipes.”

“Uh thanks...” You said, the right side of your body leaning on the counter.

You watched him cook in silence, before realizing you could help by doing the dishes in sink.  The sounds of pancakes cooking and the water hitting the dishes was the only thing that filled the room before Ethan broke the silence.

“Pancakes are done. Let’s eat ‘em while they’re hot.” Ethan suggested.

You turned off the water and dried your hands as Ethan put the plates on the table.  You sat across from each other and began to eat. You usually didn’t eat together, as you were both usually working while eating. You noticed Ethan wincing without touching his food and you looked up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“You chew really loudly.” Ethan said, annoyed. “I hate the sound of chewing.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You asked. “How am I supposed to eat without chewing?”

“You could chew less obnoxiously.” Ethan suggested.

“Or maybe you can stop being a little bitch and stop whining about stupid stuff.” You stabbed a piece of pancake and chewed it loudly.

“Real mature.” Ethan said, covering his ears backing away from the table. 

You didn’t care.  You followed him, chewing as loudly as you could, even into the living room. When you didn’t have any more left to chew, you continued to smack your lips.

“God, you’re so f*cking annoying.” Ethan yelled.

“I’m annoying?!” You repeated. “HA! You, Ethan Dolan, the most spoiled, self-righteous, arrogant person I have ever met.  You are the absolute worst.”

You slammed your finger into his chest as you spoke.  Ethan seized your hand quickly and your eyes widened.

“Why don’t you call me Mr. Dolan?” Ethan asked, a darkness in his voice. 

“Because you don’t deserve my respect.” You said, you eyes wide with indignation.

Ethan chuckled. “Do you have a complex about me or something?” His grasp on your hand slipped to your wrist. “Cause it seems like you just want to f*ck me sometimes.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You scoffed, pulling your hand from him.

“Oh? Let’s find out.” Ethan said, cockily. Ethan leaned in, caressing your cheek gently making you freeze.  You could feel your heart racing as your mind went back to how soft his lips looked. Your eyes danced upward to look at the ceiling. Your body seemed to move on it’s own toward him and you realized, you kinda did want to kiss him and punch him in the face at the same time.  You resigned to the former and your eyes fluttered close.  You waited, and nothing happened.  You opened your eyes to see Ethan staring at you with a smug smirk.

“Hm, told ya.” Ethan said, backing up.

Tears stung your eyes with humiliation, and you bit down on your lower lip. “You’re such a f*cking asshole. I’ll say it again, you are the worst person on this whole planet. I can’t stand you.” 

You turned to run back to your room.  You were going to leave this place even if you had to live a tent for the next nine days.

Ethan lurched forward and grabbed you. Turning you in his arms, he cupped your face and kiss you deeply.  You gripped his shoulders as his tongue slid expertly into your mouth and began to play with yours. As much as you wanted to resist, it felt really good.  It was like something inside of you was put to rest and another part of you was coming alive. When your hands dropped from his shoulders, Ethan’s own hands went down to your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, letting your tongue explore his mouth.  Your tongues fought for dominance, but for once you didn’t care who won. Ethan’s hands gripped your backside and you let out a soft moan. You felt Ethan’s body tense and he suddenly scooped you up.

“Jump,” He commanded, breaking the kiss to do so.

You were still in a daze, as you stood on your tiptoes and your pelvis pressed into his.

Ethan lifted his hand to give your butt a smack. “Jump.”

You did and he carried you to the couch. He tossed you on top of it, admiring you from above.  His hand reached out to grab one of your breasts, confirming his suspicion that you were not wearing a bra. You arched your back toward and he smirked at you.

“Does this mean you want me?” He asked, grinding his hips into yours. 

“I can tell how much you want me.” You smirked back at him as his ever growing bulge pressed into your hips.

“I’m going to make you say my name...scream my name.” Ethan warned, slipping his hands under shirt to cup your breasts. “Just tell me you want it.”

“I’m not going to beg for it.” You arched you back as his thumbs circles your nipples, hardening them with ease.

He rested his head in the crook of your neck, still teasing your nipples and grinding into your hips. “God, I just need you to say it. I need you to say, you want me to f*ck you.”

There was something arousing about hearing him sound so needy yet so dominant in your ear that you succumbed.

“Please f*ck me, Mr. Ethan Dolan.” You practically moaned.

Ethan gave your neck a sloppy kiss, followed by a light suck earning a free sighs of pleasure from you.  You tugged on his tank top and he leaned back to pull it off.  He also took the liberty of raising your shirt to reveal the breasts he had slowly been making the acquaintance. 

“God, these are beautiful.” He remarked making your blush. “Shame they belong to such a troublesome woman.”

“Hey--” You started to protest, but soon one of your nipples was between his lips and getting kitten licks from his tongue. You let out a loud moan as put your hand on the back of his head to hold him down.  One of his hands was holding your back up while the other slipped past the crotch of your pants to tease your slit through your underwear. 

You gasped and Ethan took the opportunity to kiss you again.  This kiss was even hungrier than the first, his tongue desperate to taste every bit of you.  Meanwhile, his middle finger was doing a great job of adding the right amount of friction to arouse you. Ethan smiled softly as he felt the dampness on his finger, taking it as an invitation to rub your folds without a a barrier. 

“Ah, Ethan...” You moaned, as he slipped his middle finger inside of you while letting his thumb play with clit.

His mouth went to your other breast to give it the same attention as the previous one.  His other hand tweaking the already hardened nipple to keep it aroused.  Ethan relished your pleasure as you squirmed under him, moaning his name like it was the only word you could remember.  He rewarded you by inserting his ring finger inside you as well. Your hips bucked and he chuckled at the sudden reaction.

Ethan let go released your nipple from his lips with a pop before commenting. “Someone is eager.” 

“Let’s hope your dick doesn’t disappoint.” You said at him, with half open eyes.

“God, it’s like you like riling me up.” Ethan growled. “I can’t stand you.”

He pulled his hand out from inside of you and you couldn’t stop the whimper from leaving your lips.  Either Ethan didn’t notice or he didn’t bother teasing you about it, because he didn’t make a remark.  He pulled down your shorts and underwear in one motion.  He admired your clit for a moment and you spread your legs teasingly.

“Wanna eat it?” You asked, biting down on your lower lip.

“You don’t deserve it.” He teased.  “But, I’ll grace you with the pounding of a lifetime.”

Ethan pulled down his pants to his knees and did the same with his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock: large, hard and proud, an audible gasp leaving your lips.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t disappoint.” Ethan smirked up at you.

“Just because you got the equipment, doesn’t mean you know how to use it.” You retorted.

Ethan leaned forward to hover directly over you. His eyes were controlled and filled with lust when he said, “We’ll see about that.”

You couldn’t think of a response and even Ethan was surprised he stunned you. He decided to take the opportunity to get you in the right position.

“Get on all fours.” He commanded, and he was shocked again to see you follow him so readily.

There was something alluring about seeing you with cartoon printed night shorts pooled at your knees and your shirt raised up your back to reveal your moist slit and perky butt eagerly waiting for him.  He would never be able to look at that outfit the same.

He positioned himself at your entrance, rimming you to get his tip wet.

“Should have put that loud mouth of yours to use and get me all wet.”

“You don’t deserve it.” You retorted.

Ethan smirked, but his smirk turned to a loud moan when you pushed back on to his dick letting him penetrate you.  He had to grip on to you to not fall on top of you in pleasure.  If he wasn’t already on his knees, he would have dropped to them.  You felt heavenly to him, so wet and tight, like you were made for each other.  

Ethan snapped out of it quickly.  He had to show you how good he was and not that he was only someone blessed with the right equipment. He pulled his hips back before slamming them roughly into you. You moaned out, but it wasn’t the kind of moan he was looking for.  So, he did it again from another angle.  This moan was a little closer, but not quite.  He did it a few more times until he found the spot.  The spot that made you scream his name from the top of his lungs.

“E-Ethan, oh Ethan, right there.” You moaned. “Please, Ethan, again...”

He did it again, just to make sure and you gripped the couch arm for balance. He continued to ram into you with the speed and strength to hit the same spot over and over again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you almost started drooling. You did your best to push back against him and he grunted each time you did in response.

“Ah, Ethan...I’m gonna...” You warned.

Ethan could feel you clenching around him. “Damn, already?” Ethan let out a chuckle. “It’s almost like I’m good at this or something.”

“Shut up, Dolan.” You growled.

“What was that?” He asked, slowing the rhythm of his hips.

“God, Mr. Dolan.” You relented pushing against him at the previous speed. 

“Hmm” Ethan kept his dangerously slow pace.  “I”ll give you what you want, only if you explain why you hate me so much.”

“What....” You whispered harshly.

Ethan’s hand slipped around you waist to massage your clit as he pumped into you even slower.  Your head collided with the couch cushion as you groaned loudly.

“Why now?!” You yelled, mostly to yourself. Speaking was hard enough as he stimulated you, and it mostly came out in gasps.  “I didn’t like the fact that you made my brother feel small, okay?” 

You tried in vain to push back against him, but he was strong and controlled the pace.  He did move a bit faster.

“I-I really didn’t mean to...” Ethan said, he also sounded out of breath. “...I guess I was kinda trying to impress you guys.  But then you were being such a bitch.”

“Well, you had a shitty way of showing your interest.” You scoffed.

“And you have a bratty way of telling someone to be better.” Ethan retorted.

“Can you please just f*ck me now?” You begged.  “Please, Ethan...I need it.”

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me...”

“ETHAN FOR GOD SAKE!” You yelled, making him laugh.

“Fine fine....” He said, as though he was doing a small favor and not plowing you on the couch in the living room.  

He grabbed both your hips and slammed into you with an even faster speed. He pulled you down on to him, hitting you from a different angle while still managing to hit your spot each time.  You leaned back, your back hitting chest and you bounced on top of him.

“Oh yeah....” Ethan groaned. “That’s it, baby...”

“Baby?” You asked.

Ethan pulled your head back to meet his eyes. “Look at those eyes, you’re mine now, baby girl.  Don’t deny it...”

You couldn’t if you wanted to because he instantly bent down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth.  While the action slowed down your ability to bounce on him, Ethan was some how able to continue pushing up into you; driving you to your climax.  You weren’t sure if you would say you were his, but you were pretty damn sure this was going to be the best sex you’ve ever had.

As your orgasm rolled over you in waves, you shuddered as you felt Ethan pull out of you. With all the strength you could muster, you turned around and grabbed his dick to hold it steady for your waiting, open mouth.  The sight alone made Ethan release and he watched as his seed hit your tongue. He held your head, entangling his fingers in your hair to keep you steady as you took in all of his following spurts.  You looked up at him to meet his eyes, and Ethan swore the last spurt of cum was because of that alone.

“That was so freaking hot...” Ethan commented.

“I guess you deserved that.” You grinned,  after swallowing the last of his seed while licking the reminisce off your lips.

“Well, now you’ve spoiled your breakfast.” Ethan teased.

“Only fair you spoil yours too.” You teased back.  You leaned back on the couch opening your legs making Ethan chuckle before he obliged.

After making you orgasm again, you and Ethan awkwardly laid on your sides as you stared at each other. 

“So...” Ethan said, slowly.

“So...” You mimicked, before continuing.  “I’ll go first.”

“No, I will...” Ethan argued.

“Can we not argue for once?” You groaned.

“Fine...” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you and Grayson. To be honest, I think I wanted to hate you a bit.” You admitted.  “I was jealous of what you had achieved, not on my behalf, but my brother’s.  I didn’t want him to get discouraged or worse, look up to you guys and become douchebags...no offense.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Ethan groaned. He absentmindedly rubbed circles on your cheek with the back of his hand.  “I guess, me being rude when you first walked in was just my toxic habit of not being able to stop working. It was something related to the company and I wanted to just get it done.  I’m working on improving and focusing less on work. But, the bragging, I didn’t mean to do it. I just become a bit preach-y sometimes.”

“I get it.” You smiled. “To be honest, I was kind of nitpicking these past few days. I never thought I would admit it out loud, but I kind of like it here...with you.”

“Well, I do give killer head...” Ethan teased, making you laugh.

“God, don’t start.” You pushed him lightly.

Ethan leaned in and kissed you softly, no tongue, just enjoying your lips again his. You stayed like that for awhile, giving each other little kissed before slowly sitting up.

“We should get dressed before Grayson and my brother get back.” You said, putting your clothes back on.  “I think this would scar him for life.”

Ethan laughed. “You’re right. We should change...”

By the time Grayson and your brother came back in, you thought you covered up everything you both did.  You were both in your usual lounge wear and finally eating the breakfast Ethan prepared, though you did have to reheat it.

“How was the surf?” You asked your brother as he washed his hands at the sink behind you.

“Good.” He grinned.  He pointed between you and Ethan sitting across from each other. “You two become friends or something? You’re not arguing.”

“Oh, uh...I guess you could say that.” You said, blushing.

Ethan smirked, thinking about the multiple times you begged him earlier not to make any comments about your interaction to your brother.  You weren’t sure if you and Ethan were going to be more than friends just yet, and you didn’t want  your brother to know you banged guys so readily.

“Judging by the size of the hickey on her neck, I’m guessing they are a little bit more than friends right now...” Grayson remarked, emerging from the right side of the kitchen.

Your eyes went big as you stammered a response.  You watched as your brother’s smile from his laughter at Grayson’s “joke” faded into shock as he saw the bruise on your neck.  Your hand shot up to cover it, not helping your case at all.  You looked at Ethan for help, but he was red as a tomato.  For someone who talked a lot of smack he was just as awkward about this as you were.

“Oh my god...Y/N...I can’t believe you slept with one of my idols.” Your brother groaned, covering his face.  “You are the absolute worst!”

Portrait of Ibrahim I / I. Ibrahim portréja

Birth and childhood

Ibrahim was born in October or November 1615 as the fourth son of Sultan Ahmed I and his favorite concubine, Mahpeyker Kösem Sultan. At his birth a total of seven (or eight) princes were before him in the line of succession to the throne: Ahmed I's younger brother, Prince Mustafa; Ibrahim's brothers: Osman, Mehmed, Murad, Bayezid, Hüseyin, Kasim, and there was a prince named Suleiman who was born about the same time. With such a background, it seemed almost impossible that Ibrahim could ever ascend the throne.

Ibrahim’s childhood was very difficult, as his father Ahmed I died in 1617 and for many years there were fights over the throne and a kind of hereditary chaos plagued the empire. The people were fed up with the fratricide, but Ahmed did not write a legal decree about who would follow him on the throne, his brother, Mustafa, or his eldest son, Osman. Eventually, with the accession of Mustafa, the inheritance officially changed, the throne no longer passed from father to son but was taken over by the oldest male. The following years were quite confusing, Mustafa was soon dethroned because of his mental illness, and Ibrahim's half-brother, Osman, ascended the throne. Osman was a very unpopular, bad ruler.

During the chaotic years, the child Ibrahim was torn from his mother, his sisters, and kept locked up with his brothers. Then, in 1621, his brother, Prince Mehmed, was executed by the then reigning sultan, Osman II. The death of his brother must have filled little Ibrahim and his brothers with terror. Not surprisingly, soon it became visible that Ibrahim was not completely mentally stable. The traumatic years made the young prince paranoid and unstable.

The reign of his full-brother, Murad IV, may have brought him some peace from 1623, as for about ten years their mother, Kösem Sultan, ruled the empire as regent and protected her sons with all her strength. It is important to mention, however, that Ibrahim practically had barely met his mother for six years from the age of two, so the reunion was less satisfying for him than to his older brothers, who could at least remember their mother.

The dread

We don’t know much about the daily life of Ibrahim and his brothers. Based on the surviving information, it is probable that while Kösem ruled as regent, although the princes lived locked up, they were not in complete isolation and could receive an education. However, the relative calm period ended soon, along with the regency of Kösem Sultan. In 1632, a Sipahi rebellion broke out, during which the rebels executed several loyal men of Sultan Murad. To make matters worse, the soldiers publicly demanded that Murad should show them his younger brothers. Murad was forced to give in to the demands and introduced his younger brothers. Ibrahim and his brothers could then face up that as long as they exist, they would always be dangerous to Murad, and this threatened their own lives.

Murad was also traumatized by their difficult childhood, which made him a tough and tyrant ruler. Unsurprisingly, he considered Selim I as his role model and tried to follow him in everything. This is why he wanted to bring back the old order of succession so that after his death his son would follow him on the throne, and not one of his younger brothers. In addition, Murad was deteriorating mentally and physically, so he began to become paranoid and saw conspiracy against him in everything. After the victory of Revan in 1635, while the people celebrated he ordered the execution of his two half-brothers, Prince Bayezid and Suleiman. The already unstable Ibrahim was certainly pushed further down the slope by this tragedy.

One of the last things that ruined Ibrahim’s common sense came in 1638, when after the victorious campaign in Baghdad, Murad executed his full-brother, Kasim, who was said to be the closest to him among his brothers. According to some sources, Ibrahim was also present in the Revan Pavilion, where the execution took place and his life was saved only by the supplication of Kösem Sultan due to his mental illness. Others said Murad did not even try to execute Ibrahim at that time. Either way, it must have been hard for Ibrahim that his brothers died next to him in a row, and his only brother, Murad, was more unpredictable.

His accession to the throne

After the execution of Kasim, Murad's health deteriorated for months. He had a chronic illness, but we don’t know much about it. Some said he may have had epilepsy, others said he may have had similar digestive problems as his father (Ahmed I) and grandmother (Handan Sultan). These were further aggravated by combat injuries, as Murad himself fought in his campaigns; and cirrhosis due to alcoholism. Murad was able to recover from his combat injuries, as in early 1640 he celebrated Ramadan without any problems, met his vezirs, and took part in events. In fact, to further tire his sick body, he regularly rode and alcoholized with his friends. On one such occasion, Murad lost consciousness and was taken back to Topkapi Palace by his bodyguards. According to some, on his deathbed, Murad ordered the execution of Ibrahim, but there is no evidence of this.

As Murad passed away, the throne passed to the oldest (and in this case the only) heir, Ibrahim. Grand Vizier Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha went to Ibrahim's apartment, telling him that Murad was dead, so he had the throne. However, Ibrahim did not believe him. The mourning Kösem Sultan then tried to talk to her son, but Ibrahim did not trust anyone after the tragedies of recent years, so he refused to leave his apartment and ascend the throne. He thought the whole thing was just Murad’s intrigue, and if he left his apartment he would be executed immediately. Ibrahim wanted to present himself as a faithful and humble brother, so he refused to come out on any request or order. Finally, Kösem Sultan ordered that the dead body of Murad should be taken to Ibrahim. Even then, Ibrahim did not believe, he examined the body thoroughly to make sure Murad was dead. Eventually, Ibrahim realized that he was the new ruler and ascended the throne.

The accession of Ibrahim to the throne in 1640 did not solve the greatest problem of the dynasty, the question of the heir. After Murad systematically murdered his brothers and his sons died of natural causes, Ibrahim was the only heir. New princes were needed as soon as possible, but Ibrahim showed no interest in women and sexuality. Some said he was afraid of having a child because he was afraid Murad would execute him then, others said he simply didn’t care. They tried in every way possible to arouse the sultan's sexual desire, made pornographic depictions for him, and offered him aphrodisiacs. The persistent endeavor eventually became successful, with his first son (and presumably his first or second child), Mehmed, born in January 1642. Legend has it that the aphrodisiacs had such a strong effect on the Sultan that he organized arranged orgies for himself, and there were several reports of various perversions.

The birth of Prince Mehmed was followed in turn by the other children, Gevherhan (1642?), Suleiman (1642), Fatma (1642?), Ahmed (1643), Murad (1643), Atike (?), Selim (1644), Osman (1644) , Beyhan (1645?), Ayşe (1646?), Kaya (?), Ümmügülsüm (?) and at least two anonymous sultanas. It can be seen, that Ibrahim’s initial dread of women soon dissipated as in a short time he produced an extremely large number of children. Ibrahim was not a very good father to his children. He was often unpredictable due to his unstable mental state. This is well exemplified by an event around 1645 when he quarreled with Prince Mehmed's mother, Turhan Hatice. Turhan Hatice complained that the sultan did not care for Mehmed, but instead played a lot with the son of the wet-nurse, whom he raised and cherished as his own. The couple's quarrel escalated to the point where Ibrahim, in his rage, threw away Prince Mehmed, who had suffered a serious head injury in the cistern and wore its mark on his forehead for the rest of his life.

Ibrahim and women

The foregoing events already suggest that Ibrahim did not have a nice relationship with his firstborn son's mother. According to some, after the abuse of Mehmed, the relationship between Turhan and Ibrahim was completely severed. It nuances the picture somewhat that it seems that in addition to Mehmed, Turhan gave birth to at least one other child to Ibrahim, Atike Sultan. The date of birth for Atike is unknown, so it is difficult to determine whether she was born before or after the incident.

In addition to Turhan, Ibrahim had seven other Hasekis, with which he practically destroyed the power of Haseki title, since the mother of all his children had this title. Two of the Hasekis stand out, Şivekar was an Armenian concubine who was able to gain serious political influence by being able to influence Ibrahim anytime, anywhere. Şivekar is also an interesting concubine because her existence proves one of Ibrahim's perversions. For the sultan, having once seen a cow from behind he decided that he wanted to acquire the fattest woman in the empire, as it might best resemble a cow. In the end, it was Şivekar who met the parameters, so she got into the sultan's harem. The other special Haseki was Telli Hümaşah, who twisted Ibrahim around her finger so much that the sultan married her. Hümaşah’s prominent position is well illustrated by the fact that Ibrahim assigned his own full-sisters and niece to serve Hümaşah.

It is a well-known legend that Ibrahim took away one of his deceased brothers, Murad IV's concubine. There is no clear evidence to support or refute this. Some say this concubine was none other than Ayşe Haseki, Murad’s favorite, who asked for the sultan’s favor in the matter of marrying off her daughter and then the sultan tried to rape her in exchange for the favor. Others say it happened to an insignificant concubine, but there are also those who say the rape case did not happen because when Ibrahim asked Sultan Murad's former concubine the woman refused the order and turned to the harem leader who, along with Kösem Sultan, forbade the sultan to touch the concubine of his deceased brother.

In addition to the former story, however, it is certain that Ibrahim kidnapped or forced Hazerpare Ahmed Pasha’s wife to be his favorite. Some say the woman received the orphaned Beyhan Sultan to raise her. Another time, Ibrahim wanted to take the daughter of Seyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi to his harem. When Seyhülislam did not allow this, Ibrahim abducted the girl from a public bath. Some said he raped her, others said the sultan was stopped just in time. In any case in the end Ibrahim sent the girl back to his father soon after.

In addition to his concubines, harem servants also successfully influenced the sultan, such as Şekerpare, who, with his sweet manner, was able to persuade the sultan to do anything and who gained immense wealth and influence. Not surprisingly, Ibrahim’s tragic end was ultimately caused by his influenceability. His concubines only influenced the Sultan in relatively harmless things, but soon he came under the influence of a much more dangerous person.

The ruler

We cannot really talk about Ibrahim as a ruler. Because of his mental condition, his mother, Kösem Sultan, and Murad IV's last Grand Vezier, Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha, ruled in his place. Although Kösem Sultan and Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha were not in a good relationship and even constantly rivaled each other, they still worked excellently together for the sake of the empire. Ibrahim, although was not capable to rule alone, tried to live up to expectations in the first few years of his reign. He constantly followed the events, regularly negotiating with the Grand Vizier, for which his handwritten letters also serve as a good example. These letters from Ibrahim are significant because it shows that Ibrahim was properly educated, was not weak-minded, so he was actually only struggling with mental illnesses caused by trauma.

Ibrahim's early reign was therefore hopeful in relation to his condition. He did not replace his brother's former leaders, his pashas, ​​so in fact, the change of sultan took place very simply and everything could go as before, which was very positive for the empire. Over time, however, he came under the influence of a certain Cinci Hoca and rebelled against his mother. Cinci Hoca was an occult science charlatan who considered himself a religious leader. Cinci Hoca convinced the sultan in various ways that he could cure his headaches and mental problems. Instead, he took advantage of Ibrahim’s credulity and amassed a huge fortune for himself and his supporters. Events eventually deteriorated to the point where, without any experience or aptitude, Cinci Hoca was appointed by the Sultan as Chief Kadi; Cinci Hoca's faithful companion, Silahdar Yusuf Aga, became the Grand Admiral. Cinci Hoca's greatest opponent was Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha, the Grand Vizier, so he constantly spoke against him, as a result of which the Sultan executed Kemankeş Pasha in 1644. Kemankeş Pasha was replaced by another supporter of Cinci Hoca, Sultanzade Mehmed Pasha. Sultanzade Mehmed Pasha was, by the way, the son of Ayşe Hanimsultnasa, thus the grandson of Ayşe Hümaşah Sultan and the great-grandson of the Mihrimah Sultan and Rüstem Pasha.

By getting under the spell of unfit persons, Ibrahim started to destroy the state, which formerly was great, led by Murad’s pashas. Over time, Ibrahim replaced all of Murad’s previous pashas and replaced them with his own confidants who were unable to manage properly. Similarly, people’s displeasure was triggered by the launch of another costly campaign. In 1644, Maltese pirates attacked an Ottoman ship on which, in addition to the chief black eunuch, the son of Prince Mehmed's wet-nurse, whom Ibrahim loved and cherished more than his own son, was present. Under the pretext of attack, the Fifth Venetian-Ottoman War broke out in 1645 and lasted for 24 years.

Shortly after Kemankeş was executed, Ibrahim also exiled his mother, Kösem Sultan. He originally intended to send his mother to the island of Rhodes, but eventually, his concubines persuaded him to send her only to another palace. Over time, dissatisfaction grew, and more and more people turned to Kösem Sultan in exile for help. Kösem Sultan's well-known letter to Hezarpare Ahmed Pasha - whose wife had previously been abducted by the Sultan - was written this period. The letter says "In the end he will leave neither you nor me alive. We will lose control of the government. The whole society is in ruins. Have him removed from the throne immediately." The letter is a good indication that Ibrahim’s insane rule threatened more and more people. The sultan executed people for almost no reason and gave high positions to those who were completely unfit. More and more people turned against Ibrahim and it was increasingly likely that he would not be able to stay on the throne for long.

The end

The situation deteriorated to the point that in 1647 Kösem Sultan and the new Grand Vizier, Salih Pasha and Seyhülislam Abdürrahim Efendi, tried to dethrone Ibrahim but failed. Salih Pasha was executed and Kösem Sultan remained in exile. The following year, both the Janissaries and the Ulema joined the rebellion, and on August 8, 1648, the mad sultan was easily dethroned and imprisoned. Then due to the evidence, Kösem Sultan returned to the palace. She there received a letter from the leading statesmen, asking her to give them Prince Mehmed so they can make him sultan in the Janissary Mosque. Kösem Sultan rejected the request and asking the leaders to go to the palace and let's discuss the situation. Kösem Sultan personally welcomed them at the second gate - without any kind of paravane, just veiled - and argued at length for them why they should leave Ibrahim in his position. She told them that the sultan had only followed the advice of bad people, so it was enough to get rid of these advisors. It is doubtful that Kösem Sultan really thought so or simply felt that this was expected of her as Ibrahim’s mother. The latter can be inferred from her earlier letter in which she clearly stated that Ibrahim should be dethroned; and that, after two hours of discourse, Kösem Sultan agreed to the ascension of Mehmedm, barely six and a half years old. It is important to note, however, that based on the recorded speech of Kösem Sultan, she only agreed to Ibrahim’s dethronement due to compulsion. Kösem Sultan for concluding the discourse with the following sentence: "All are united in the opinion that the Sultan must be deposed; it is impossible to do otherwise. You tell me that if I don't hand over the Prince, they will enter the palace and take him by force." So whatever she felt or thought, Kösem showed outwardly that she was trying to protect her son as a mother.

Ibrahim's followers were removed from their positions at the same time as the sultan's dethronement happened, and most of them were executed. Then they had to decide the fate of Sultan Ibrahim soon, but it was not easy. There used to be a mad sultan who was simply closed up after his dethronement, so this could have been possible in the case of Ibrahim. However, Ibrahim caused too much pain to the people, executed too many, and simply had too many supporters to keep him alive. Eventually, the new Grand Vizier, Sofu Mehmed Pasha, asked the Seyhülislam Efendi to allow the execution of Ibrahim. Seyhülislam allowed it. Some say Kösem Sultan also agreed to the execution, others said was not notified until the last minute so she could not prevent it. Finally, Ibrahim was strangled on August 18, 1648. According to the descriptions, when the execution squad entered the sultan's room, he, clutching the Qur’an, asked to be shown which line of the Qur’an suggests his execution. He said that if they show it to him, he would surrender. Of course, this was not possible, one of the executioners threw the noose around the neck of the sultan from behind. Like his dethroned mad predecessor, Mustafa I, he was also buried in Aya Sofya.

Used sources: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

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Születése és gyermekkora

Ibrahim 1615 októberében vagy novemberében született I. Ahmed szultán és kedvenc ágyasa, Mahpeyker Köszem szultána negyedik közös fiaként. Születésekor összesen hét (vagy nyolc) herceg állt előtte a trónöröklési sorban: I. Ahmed öccse, Musztafa herceg; Ibrahim bátyjai: Oszmán, Mehmed, Murad, Bayezid, Hüseyin, Kasim és Ibrahimmal nagyjából egyszerre született egy Szulejmán nevű herceg is. Ilyen háttérrel szinte kizártnak tűnt, hogy Ibrahim valaha is trónra kerülhet.

Ibrahim gyermekkora igen hányatott volt, hiszen 1617-ben édesapja I. Ahmed elhunyt és hosszú éveken át trónviszályok dúltak és egyfajta örökösödési káosz sújtotta a birodalmat. Az embereknek elege volt a testvérgyilkosságból, azonban Ahmed nem rendelkezett arról, hogy ki kövesse őt a trónon, öccse, Musztafa vagy legidősebb fia, Oszmán. Végül Musztafa trónralépésével hivatalosan is megváltozott az örökösödés, többé nem apáról fiúra szállt a trón, hanem a legidősebb férfi foglalta el azt. A következő évek meglehetősen zavarosak voltak, Musztafát mentális betegsége miatt hamarosan trónfosztották és Ibrahim féltestvére, Oszmán került a trónra. Oszmán nagyon népszerűtlen, rossz uralkodó volt.

A kaotikus évekből a gyermek Ibrahim minden bizonnyal annyit érzékelt, hogy elszakították édesanyjától, lánytestvéreitől és elzárva tartották fiú testvéreivel együtt. 1621-ben aztán édesbátyját, Mehmed herceget kivégeztette az akkor regnáló II. Oszmán. Bátyja halála bizonyára rettegéssel töltötte el a kis Ibrahimot és testvéreit. Nem meglepő hát, hogy Ibrahimról hamarosan kiderült, mentálisan nem teljesen ép. A traumatikus évek paranioássá és instabillá tették a fiatal herceget.

Némi nyugalmat hozhatott neki bátyja, IV. Murad 1623-as trónralépése, hiszen innentől nagyjából tíz évig édesanyjuk, Köszem szultána uralta a birodalmat régensként és minden erejével fiait védelmezte. Fontos azonban megemlíteni, hogy Ibrahim gyakorlatilag két éves korától kezdve hat éven át szinte alig találkozott édesanyjával, így bizonyára nem töltötte el akkora nyugalommal és megkönnyebbüléssel az újraegyesülés, mint idősebb testvéreit, akik legalább emlékezhettek anyjukra.

A rettegés

Nem sokat tudunk Ibrahim és testvérei mindennapjairól. A fennmaradt információk alapján valószínűsíthető, hogy míg Köszem régensként uralkodott a hercegek bár elzárva éltek, nem teljes izolációban voltak és oktatásban is részesülhettek. A relatív nyugalom azonban hamarosan, Köszem régensségével együtt végleg a múlté lett. 1632-ben szpáhi lázadás tört ki, melynek során a lázadók kivégezték a nagyvezírt és Murad szultán több hűséges emberét. Hogy a helyzet tovább bonyolódjon a katonák nyilvánosan követelték, hogy Murad mutassa meg nekik öccseit. Ezzel jelezni akarták neki, hogy ha akarnák le tudnák cserélni valamelyik öccsére; másrészt pedig keringtek olyan alaptalan pletykák, hogy Murad és Köszem megszabadultak a hercegektől. Murad kénytelen volt engedni a követeléseknek és bemutatta öccseit, akiket a katonák ekkor éltetni kezdtek. Ibrahim és testvérei ekkor szembesülhettek azzal testközelből, hogy amíg csak léteznek, mindig veszélyesek lesznek Muradra, ez pedig saját testiépségüketis fenyegette.

Muradot szintén megviselte nehéz gyermekkoruk, ami miatt kemény kézzel uralkodott. Nem meglepő, ha példaképének I. Szelimet tartotta és őt próbálta követni mindenben, így a régi öröklési rendet is vissza akarta hozni, hogy halála után fia kövesse a trónon, ne pedig öccsei közül valaki. Emellett Murad mentálisan és fizikailag is egyre rosszabb állapotban volt, így kezdett paranoiddá válni és mindenben konspirációt látott személye ellen. Ezek együttesen okozták azt, hogy 1635-ben a győztes revani hadjárata után, míg az emberek ünnepeltek ő elrendelte két féltestvére, Bayezid és Szulejmán hercegek kivégzését. Az egyébként is labilis Ibrahimot minden bizonnyal továb taszította ez a tragédia a lejtőn.

Az Ibrahim józaneszét tönkretévő egyik utolsó dolog 1638-ban következett be, mikor a győztes bagdadi hadjárata után Murad kivégeztette édestestvérét, Kasimot is, aki állítólag testvérei közül legközelebb állt hozzá. Egyes források szerint Ibrahim is jelen volt a Revan Pavilonban, ahol a kivégzés történt és az ő életét csak Köszem szultána könyörgése és elborult mentális állapota mentette meg. Mások szerint Murad meg sem próbálta kivégeztetni Ibrahimot ekkor. Akárhogyan is, minden bizonnyal megviselte Ibrahimot, hogy testvérei sorra fogytak el mellőle, egyetlen bátyja, Murad pedig egyre rosszabb állapotba került és egyre kiszámíthatatlanabb lett.

Trónralépése

IV. Murad Kasim halálát követően egyre rosszabb egészségi állapotban volt, hónapokon keresztül nyomta az ágyat. Több alapbetegsége is volt, azonban ezekről nem tudunk sokat. Egyesek szerint epilepsziás lehetett, mások szerint neki is hasonló emésztőrendszeri problémái lehettek, mint apjának (I. Ahmed) és nagyanyjának (Handan szultána). Ezeket tovább súlyosbították a harci sérülések, hiszen Murad maga is harcolt a hadjáratain; valamint az alkoholizmusa miatt kialakuló májzsugor. Murad harci sérüléseiből képes volt felépülni, ugyanis 1640 elején a Ramadánt minden gond nélkül ünnepelte, találkozott a vezíreivel, rendezvényeken vett részt. Sőt, hogy tovább fárassza beteg testét rendszeresen járt lovagolni és alkoholizálni barátaihoz. Egyik ilyen alkalommal Murad elvesztette az eszméletét és testőrei vitték vissza a Topkapi Palotába. Egyesek szerint halálos ágyán Murad kiadta a parancsot Ibrahim kivégzésére is, ám erre nincs bizonyíték.

Ahogy Murad elhunyt, a trón a legidősebb (és jelen esetben egyetlen) örökösre szállt, Ibrahimra. A nagyvezír Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa ment Ibrahim lezárt lakrészébe, elmondta neki, hogy Murad meghalt, így övé a trón. Ibrahim azonban nem hitt neki. Ezekután a gyászoló Köszem szultána próbált meg beszélni fiával, de Ibrahim az elmúlt évek tragédiái után senkiben sem bízott, így megtagadta, hogy elhagyja lakrészét és elfoglalja a trónt. Úgy vélte az egész csak Murad cselszövése, és ha elhagyja lakrészét azonnal kivégzik. Ibrahim hűséges és alázatos testvérnek akarta mutatni magát, így semmilyen kérlelésre és parancsra nem volt hajlandó kijönni lakrészéből. Végül Köszem szultána úgy rendelkezett, hogy Murad holttestét vigyék be Ibrahimhoz. Ibrahim még ekkor sem nyugodott meg, alaposan megvizsgálta a testet, hogy biztos legyen benne, Murad elhunyt. Végül Ibrahim felfogta, hogy ő az új uralkodó és elfoglalta a trónt.

Ibrahim 1640-es trónralépésével nem oldódott meg a dinasztia legnagyobb problémája, az örökös kérdése. Miután Murad szisztematikusan kiírtotta testvéreit, fiai pedig természetes okból hunytak el, Ibrahim volt az egyetlen örökös. Mielőbb szükség volt új hercegekre, Ibrahim azonban semmilyen érdeklődést nem mutatott a nők és a szexualitás iránt. Egyesek szerint rettegett attól, hogy gyermeket nemzzen, mert félt, hogy akkor Murad kivégezteti őt, mások szerint egyszerűen nem érdekelte a dolog. Minden létező módon igyekeztek felkelteni a szultán szexuális vágyát, pornográf ábrázolásokat készítettek számára, afrodiziákumokat szolgáltak fel neki. A kitartó próbálkozás végül eredményes lett, 1642 januárjában megszületett első fia (és feltehetőleg első vagy második gyermeke), Mehmed. A legendák úgy vélik, hogy a vágyserkentők olyan erősen hatottak a szultánra, hogy előfordult, orgiákat rendezett magának és több beszámoló szerint is különböző perverzió voltak.

Mehmed herceg születését sorra követte a többi gyermek, Gevherhan (1642?), Szulejmán (1642), Fatma (1642?), Ahmed (1643), Murad (1643), Atike (?), Selim (1644), Osman (1644), Beyhan(1645?), Ayşe (1646?), Kaya (?), Ümmügülsüm (?) és legalább két névtelen szultána. Látható tehát, hogy Ibrahim kezdeti rettegése a nőktől hamarosan feloldódott és rövid időn belül extrém sok gyermeket nemzett. A gyerekekkel szemben Ibrahim nem volt túl jó apa. Instabil mentális állapota miatt gyakran volt kiszámíthatatlan. Ezt jól példázza egy 1645 körüli esemény is, mikor összevitatkozott Mehmed herceg édesanyjával Turhan Haticével. Turhan Hatice nehezményezte, hogy a szultán nem törődik Mehmeddel, ellenben sokat játszik a szoptatósdajka fiával, akit sajátjaként nevel és dédelget. A pár veszekedése odáig fajult, hogy Ibrahim dühében elhajította Mehmed herceget, aki a ciszternába esve komoly fejsérülést szenvedett és élete végéig viselte nyomát a homlokán.

Ibrahim és a nők

Arra már az előbbi események is utalnak, hogy Ibrahimnak nem volt felhőtlen a viszonya elsőszülött fia anyjával. Egyesek szerint a Mehmedet ért bántalmazás után Turhan és Ibrahim kapcsolata teljesen megszakadt. Némileg árnyalja a képet, hogy olybá tűnik Turhan Mehmed mellett még legalább egy gyermeket szült Ibrahimnak, Atike szultánát. Atike szultána születési ideje nem ismert, így nehéz megállapítani, hogy még az incidens előtt vagy már az után született.

Ibrahimnak Turhan mellett hét másik Haszekije is volt, mellyel gyakorlatilag elvette a Haszeki rang súlyát, hiszen minden gyermekének anyja megkapta ezt a titulust. A Haszekik közül ketten emelkednek ki, Şivekar egy örmény ágyas, aki komoly politikai befolyást tudott magának szerezni azzal, hogy bármikor, bármiben képes volt befolyásolni Ibrahimot. Şivekar azért is érdekes ágyas, mert létezése bizonyítja Ibrahim egyik perverzióját. A szultán ugyanis miután egyszer látott egy tehenet hátulról úgy döntött, hogy a birodalom legkövérebb nőjét akarja megszerezni magának, hiszen az hasonlíthat legjobban a tehénhez. Végül Şivekar volt az, aki megfelelt a paramétereknek, így került a szultán háremébe. A másik különleges Haszeki Telli Hümaşah volt, aki olyannyira az ujjaköré csavarta Ibrahimot, hogy a szultán feleségül is vette. Telli Hümaşah kiemelt pozícióját jól mutatja, hogy Ibrahim saját édestestvéreit és unokahúgát osztotta be Telli Hümaşah mellé szolgálónak.

Jól ismert legenda, miszerint Ibrahim megerőszakolta elhunyt bátyja, IV. Murad egyik ágyasát. Nincsenek egyértelmű bizonyítékok, amik alátámasztanák vagy cáfolnák ezt. Egyesek szerint ez az ágyas nem volt más, mint Ayşe Haszeki, Murad kedvence, aki a szultán szívességét kérte lánya kiházasításának ügyében, majd a szultán megpróbálta őt megerőszakolni a szívességért cserébe. Mások szerint egy jelentéktelen ágyassal történt mindez, de olyanok is vannak, akik szerint az erőszakra nem került sor, mert mikor Ibrahim kérette Murad szultán egykori ágyasát a nő megtagadta a parancsot és a hárem vezetőhöz fordult segítségül, aki Köszem szultánával együtt megtiltotta a szultánnak, hogy elhunyt tesvtére ágyasához érjen.

Előbbi történet mellett azonban az bizonyos, hogy Ibrahim elrabolta vagy kényszerítette Hazerpare Ahmed Pasa feleségét, hogy legyen a kegyeltje. Egyesek szerint az asszony megkapta az elárvult Beyhan szultánát, hogy nevelje. Máskor pedig Ibrahim, a Seyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi lányát akarta háremébe vitetni. Mikor a Seyhülislam ezt nem engedte, Ibrahim egy fürdőből elraboltatta a lányt. Egyesek szerint megbecstelenítette, mások szerint még időben jobb belátásra bírták a szultánt, aki kétségkívül visszaküldte a lányt apjához nemsokkal később.

Ágyasai mellett hárem szolgálók is sikerrel befolyásolták a szultánt, így Şekerpare, aki negédes modorával bármire rá tudta venni a szultánt és aki hatalmas vagyonra és befolyásra tett szert. Nem meglepő, hogy Ibrahim vesztét is végül befolyásolhatósága okozta. Ágyasai viszonylag ártalmatlan dolgokban befolyásolták csak a szultánt, amit a legtöbben még elnéztek neki. Hamarosan azonban egy sokkal veszedelmesebb ember befolyása alá került.

Az uralkodó

Ibrahimról, mint uralkodóról nem igazán beszélhetünk. Mentális állapota miatt édesanyja, Köszem szultána és IV. Murad utolsó nagyvezíre, Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa uralkodott helyette. Bár Köszem és Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa nem voltak jóban, sőt állandóan rivalizáltak egymással, a birodalom érdekében mégis kiválóan dolgoztak együtt. Ibrahim, bár maga nem volt alkalmas az uralkodásra, trónralépése utáni pár évben igyekezett megfelelni az elvárásoknak. Állandóan követte az eseményeket, rendszeresen tárgyalt a nagyvezírrel, melyre kézzel írt levelei is jó példaként szolgálnak. Ibrahim ezen levelei azért jelentősek, mert kitűnik belőle, hogy Ibrahim megfelelő oktatásban részesült, nem volt gyengeelméjű, tehát ténylegesen csak a traumák okozta mentális betegségekkel küzdött.

Ibrahim korai uralma tehát állapotához képest reménykeltő volt. Nem cserélte le bátyja korábbi vezíreit, pasáit, így tulajdonképpen nagyon egyszerűen zajlott le a szultánváltás és minden mehetett a korábbiak szerint, ami a birodalom szempontjából igen pozitív volt. Idővel azonban egy bizonyos Cinci Hoca befolyása alá került és fellázadt anyja uralma ellen. Cinci Hoca okkult tudományokkal foglalkozó sarlatán volt, aki magát vallási vezetőnek tekintette. Cinci Hoca különböző módszerekkel meggyőzte a szultánt arról, hogy képes gyógyítani fejfájását és mentális problémáit. Helyette kihasználta Ibrahim hiszékenységét és hatalmas vagyont halmozott fel magának és támogatóinak. Az események végül odáig fajultak, hogy minden tapasztalat és alkalmasság nélkül Cinci Hocát nevezte ki a szultán a főkádinak; Cinci Hoca hű társát, Silahdar Yusuf Agát pedig a főtengernaggyá tette meg. Cinci Hoca legnagyobb ellenfelének Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasát, a nagyvezírt tekintette és állandóan ellene beszélt, minek eredményeképpen a szultán 1644-ben a kivégeztette Kemankeş Pasát. Kemankeş Pasa helyére Cinci Hoca egy másik támogatóját Sultanzade Mehmed Pasát nevezte ki Ibrahim. Sultanzade Mehmed Pasa egyébként Ayşe Hanimszultána fia volt, tehát Ayşe Hümaşah szultána unokája és Mihrimah szultána dédunokája.

Azzal, hogy Ibrahim alkalmatlan személyek bűvkörébe került azt történt, hogy a korábban Murad pasái által nagyszerűen vezetett állam az összeomláshoz közeledett. Ibrahim idővel leváltotta Murad összes korábbi pasáját és saját bizalmasaival helyettesítette őket, akik nem voltak képesek megfelelően irányítani. Hasonlóan az emberek nemtetszését váltotta ki egy újabb költséges hadjárat indítása. 1644-ben máltai kalózok támadtak egy oszmán hajóra, melyen a fő fekete eunuch mellett jelen volt Mehmed herceg szoptatósdajkájának fia is, akit Ibrahim a saját fiánál, Mehmednél jobban szeretett és dédelgetett. A támadás ürügyén 1645-ben kirobbant az ötödik velencei-oszmán háború, mely 24 évig tartott.

Ibrahim nemsokkal Kemankeş kivégzése után édesanyját is száműzte. Eredetileg Rodosz szigetére szándékozta küldeni anyját, de végül ágyasai meggyőzték, hogy csak egy másik palotába küldje. Idővel egyre nőtt az elégedetlenség, egyre többen fordultak a száműzetésben lévő Köszem szultánához, hogy segítségét kérjék. Köszem valószínűleg széműzetésében írta meg jól ismert levelét is Hezarpare Ahmed Pasának - akinek feleségét a szultán korábban elrabolta -, mely így szólt: "Végül sem titeket, sem engem nem hagyna életben és újra elveszítenénk az uralmat az állam felett, ezzel pedig lerombolnánk társadalmunkat." A levél jól jelzi, hogy Ibrahim őrült uralma egyre többeket veszélyeztett. A szultán szinte minden ok nélkül végeztetett ki embereket, és teljesen alkalmatlanoknak adott magas beosztást. Egyre többen fordultak Ibrahim ellen és egyre valószínűbb volt, hogy nem maradhat sokáig a trónon.

A vég

Odáig fajult a helyzet, hogy 1647-ben Köszem szultána és az új nagyvezír, Salih Pasa és a Seyhülislam Abdürrahim Efendi megpróbálták trónfosztani Ibrahimot, azonban lebuktak. Salih Pasát kivégeztették, Köszem pedig száműzetésben maradt. A következő évben aztán a janicsárok és az ulema is csatlakozott a lázadáshoz és 1648. augusztus 8-án könnyűszerrel trónfosztották és bebörtönözték az őrült szultánt. Ekkor Köszem a bizonyítékok alapján visszatért a palotába, hiszen ott kapta meg a vezető államférfiak levelét, miszerint adja ki nekik Mehmed herceget, hogy a janicsár mecsetben szultánukká tegyék őt. Köszem elutasította a kérést és arra kérte a vezetőket, hogy menjenek a palotába, hogy megvitassák a helyzetet. Köszem személyesen fogadta a második kapunál az odasereglőket - minden fajta paraván nélkül, csupán elfátyolozva - és hosszasan érvelt nekik arról, hogy miért kellene meghagyniuk Ibrahimot a pozíciójában. Elmondta nekik, hogy a szultán csak rossz emberek tanácsát követte, így elég azoktól megszabadulni. Kétséges, hogy Köszem valóban így gondolta vagy egyszerűen úgy érezte, hogy Ibrahim anyjaként ezt várják tőle. Utóbbira enged következtetni korábbi levele és hogy két órányi diskurzus után Köszem beleegyezett az alig hat és fél éves Mehmed trónra ületetésébe. Fontos azonban megjegyezni, hogy Köszem rögzített beszéde alapján Köszem csak kényszer miatt ment bele Ibrahim trónfosztásába. Köszem a következő mondattal zárta le a diskurzust: "Mind egyetértetek tehát, hogy a szultánt trónfosztani kell, lehetetlen bármi más megoldás. Azt kéritek tőle, adjam át nektek Mehmed herceget és ha nem teszem erőszakkal viszitek ki a palotából." Így bármit érzett is vagy gondolt is Köszem, kifelé azt mutatta, hogy édesanyaként próbálja védeni fiát.

Ibrahim követőit a szultán trónfosztásával egy időben eltávoltották a pozícióikból, majd legtöbbüket ki is végezték. Ibrahim szultán sorsáról is hamarosan dönteniük kellett, azonban ez nem volt egyszerű. Korábban már volt egy őrült szultán, akit trónfosztása után egyszerűen csak elzártak, erre Ibrahim esetében is lehetett volna tehát lehetőség. Ibrahim azonban túl sokaknak okozott fájdalmat, túl sokakat végeztetett ki és egyszerűen túl sok támogatója volt ahhoz, hogy életben hagyják. Végül az új nagyvezír, Sofu Mehmed Pasa kérvényezte a Seyhülislam Efenditől, hogy engedélyezze Ibrahim kivégzését. A Seyhülislam engedélyezte. Egyesek szerint Köszem szultána is beleegyezett a kivégzésbe, mások szerint az utolsó pillanatig nem értesítették, nehogy megakadályozhassa azt. Végül Ibrahimot 1648. augusztus 18-án megfojtották. A leírások szerint amikor a kivégzőosztag belépett a szultánhoz, az a Koránt szorongatva azt kérte, mutassák meg neki, hogy a Korán mely sorára hivatkozva akarják kivégezni és ha megteszik megadja magát. Erre természetesen nem volt mód, az egyik kivégző hátulról rádobta a hurkot a szultán nyakára. Hasonlóan trónfosztott őrült elődjéhez, őt is az Aya Sofyában temették el, mint I. Musztafát.

Felhasznált források: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

Two Halves - Chapter Nine (Zuko x Reader)

Part Eight

Word Count: 3,200

Previously: The Dai Li staged an attack on the refugee district of Ba Sing Se, during which the Firelady killed an agent to stop him from assaulting a young girl. Her life was threatened by another agent, and after the attack, she and Zuko had an argument about her need for his protection, during which he admitted how much he cares for her. (and that’s what you missed on glee)

Warning: This chapter mentions details of violence and attempted assault. Reader discretion is advised. 

Author’s Note: Aaaand we’re back! I’m glad I took the week off last week; I’m feeling much better (which doesn’t mean much but) and am slowly getting back into the swing of writing regularly. Hopefully next week I’ll have a one shot to post, or at the very least, will get around to writing the second part of Lunar New Year. I’ve also got some *chef’s kiss* immaculate Sokka content going up on Monday (which may or may not already be available on my Patreon 👀). 

~ Muerta

Over the next few days, dozens of meetings are held. Despite relentless hours spent digging, Kuei’s intelligence agents can find no clear motive for the attack, other than to disrupt the peace that’s settled over Ba Sing Se since the end of the war. 

“It's perplexing,” Kuei tells you during one of these meetings. “The Dai Li have never been outwardly violent; their crimes are always kept very hushed as a way of keeping the city under their control. This type of attack is out of character for them.” 

“You're sure there wasn't a shift in leadership?” you attempt. “A change in tactics? A coup, even?” 

Kuei shakes his head, staring grave faced down at the scrolls before him. 

“No,” he affirms. “Even our informants within the Dai Li are confused by the choice to act so publicly.” 

Aang diverts his trip to the Northern Air Temple back to the city, and Suki comes from Kyoshi Island with a group of warriors to lend a hand, Sokka in tow; when they arrive at the palace, he forgoes any type of formal greeting to the Earth King in favor of capturing you in his arms, hugging you as though he intends to cave in your ribs. 

“Oh, thank the Spirits you're okay,” he gasps. “We’re moving to the Fire Nation and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” 

“Sokka, please,” Suki chides, placing a hand on your shoulder. “She nearly beheaded a guy - she doesn't need you chaperoning her.” 

While Sokka fusses over your safety, refusing to be apart from you for more than an hour at a time (unless Zuko, Suki, or Aang are present), Suki and Aang jump right into giving you a bit of proper combat training - Suki gives you one of the signature fans of the Kyoshi Warriors, teaching you the basics of using it for defense, and Aang instructs you in chi blocking, showing you how a few swift jabs in precise places can incapacitate an enemy without injury. 

“I actually learned it from an old friend of Zuko’s,” Aang confesses as you train in the empty ballroom. “She outwitted us more than once when we were kids.” 

“Ty Lee is terrifying,” Zuko admits from where he sits propped against a pillar, sharpening one of his swords as he watches your lesson. “I'm glad my sister never had more influence on her.”

After your fight the night of the attack, Zuko takes a step back in his protectiveness of you. He no longer insists you be sheltered, instead allowing you to define your own limits of how chivalrous you need him to be; he seems more concerned over your mental health, inquiring multiple times a day about your feelings in the wake of nearly losing your life and taking another. You keep yourself together in public, refusing to show anything that could be used against you as weakness, but when alone with your friends - Zuko especially - you let your vulnerability slip, unable even in wearing a brave face to go about your days with the same shine you usually do. You wake Zuko more than once in the middle of the night due to a nightmare, which begins a ritual of you discussing things that make you happy before bed. He's just as bothered by the unrest as you are, a fact he doesn't hide from you. 

To the dismay of everyone in the palace, it isn't just your friends that arrive to help with damage control - the international affairs committee hears of your actions during the attack and drops everything, sending diplomats to participate in Kuei’s meetings. Luckily, it's Advisor Sung who shows up instead of Advisor Qiang, and you're thankful to have the more even-tempered man to oppose. 

“They're supposed to be on my side,” you remark to Kuei as you walk to one of the palace courtrooms together, on your way to a hearing about the raid - specifically, about the man you killed during it. “I feel like I shouldn't have to fight my own council while also trying to defend myself from everyone else.” 

“If it's any consolation, most people in the Earth Kingdom support you,” he responds, affectionately patting your arm. “Zuko has done a great deal to help us rebuild since the war, and they admire your bravery to act alongside him. Plus, I'm the king - I make the rules here, whether your advisors like it or not.” 

You grin lopsidedly at him, hooking your arm with his. 

“Run away with me, Kuei,” you teasingly propose. “Let’s build a house in the desert; you and Zuko can be my harem.” 

Kuei laughs and rests his hand over yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips in a friendly kiss. 

“We need your good trouble here, my dear,” he tells you. “I also am not keen on the idea of being a concubine - your husband looked quite ready to execute me when we danced together, and I prefer to be on his good side.” 

Inside the courtroom, a group of Kuei’s legal and affairs advisors gather beside Advisor Sung and his aides, all of them speaking in hushed tones. Toph and Zuko sit together to one side of the room with a few members of Kuei’s guard, having been gathered as witnesses. A young girl sits alone a few feet away from them, flanked by an older couple who each have an arm around her; you recognize her as the girl you saved the day of the raid. 

“Your Majesty,” the presiding judge announces upon your arrival, bowing low as his fellows follow suit. “Shall we begin the hearing with your statement?” 

“Yes, I believe we shall,” Kuei replies. He takes his place at the head of the room while you lower yourself beside Zuko; your husband silently tucks his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Please describe the events of the Dai Li raid,” the judge states; beside him, a scribe scribbles shorthand on a blank scroll. “Specifically, your part in it and what you witnessed the Firelady do during it.” 

“Dai Li agents were looting businesses and attacking civilians,” Kuei describes. “Firelord Zuko and Toph Beifong set to subduing the delegates of the raid while the Firelady and I rode through the district to incapacitate as many agents as we possibly could.” 

“Did you discuss beforehand whether or not you intended to inflict serious harm on the attackers?” the judge asks, politely raising a hand to pause the king. 

“No,” Kuei answers. “The situation was urgent and there was no time.” 

“Were you armed?” 

“I was not - the Firelady used a katana in its sheath as a means of rendering any attackers we encountered immobile.” 

“Did you ever see the Firelady unsheathe the katana or use its blade?” 

“Only once.” 

“Please describe the incident.” 

Kuei clears his throat, purposely keeping his gaze fixed on the wall behind the judge and legal council.

“I believe she saw them before I did,” he begins, sounding distant and disjointed. “A Dai Li agent had a teenage girl pinned to a nearby building, with what seemed to be the intent to assault her; the Firelady unsheathed the katana and slit the agent’s throat to prevent him from doing so.” 

“What gave you the impression that the agent intended to assault the girl?” the judge calmly questions. 

“He had her dress pulled up over her waist,” Kuei responds; he knots his hands into the fabric of his robes, so subtly you're not sure anyone else notices, “and his trousers had been dropped around his thighs.” 

“Do you believe there is anything else the Firelady could have done to incapacitate the attacker?” 

“No; anything else would have risked injuring the girl due to the… intimate nature of their position.” 

“What did the Firelady do after slitting the Dai Li’s throat?” 

“She took the girl to a safer area of the street. A group of residents had gathered in an unbothered storefront - she rode with the girl and deposited her there.” 

“Thank you,” the judge concludes, bowing respectfully. “That is all the information we need.” 

Kuei nods as one of the legal advisors hands him a stack of papers, quickly shuffling through them before speaking up. 

“We’ll interview the guard next, if you agree,” he says.

For the next two hours, members of the guard - as well as Zuko and Toph - are interrogated, each giving their own account of the events of the raid. Toph, surprisingly, keeps her cool during the grilling, but one of the advisors pushes the wrong buttons when asking Zuko about his choice to not only allow you to come with him, but to take part in protecting the citizens of Ba Sing Se. 

“You believed it was a good idea,” the advisor presses, “to let your wife - a woman with absolutely no combat training - defend civilians not under the care of her own government against an invasive attack?” 

“Of course not,” Zuko replies. “But she’s my wife. My responsibility as a husband is to keep her away from harm while also keeping her by my side. It was either fight the leaders of the Dai Li beside her or send her with the Earth King. I chose what was safest for her. I'd even say she performed well, given her lack of experience.” 

“You truly believe that?” the advisor needles. 

“How many men attempted to kill the people of Ba Sing Se the day of the attack?” Zuko counters with his own question. 

“Forty-seven,” the advisor quips. “Not including the leader and his right hand.”  

“And how many civilians died?” Zuko prods. 

The advisor falls silent, his expression dropping in vexed defeat as he swallows heavily. 

“... None,” he mutters. 

Zuko keeps his blank, piercing expression fixed on the advisor, saying nothing; after a tense moment, the man announces that he has no more questions. 

Eventually, the girl you saved is called to make her statement. She paces to her seat before the king with nervous, trembling steps, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. 

Advisor Sung approaches her, the Earth Kingdom legal team having decided they have enough evidence to deliberate if a sentence needs to be handed to you; the Fire Nation, however, needing more information to defend their Firelady against any wrongdoing - a stance you feel they won't be quick to take. 

“Bulan Ngo,” Advisor Sung addresses her, his tone even and measured. “Can you please describe what happened to you the day of the Dai Li’s demonstration?” 

The girl swallows, parting her lips and closing them as if unsure to speak; when she does find her words, her voice is timid. 

“A… a group of agents... came into our apothecary,” she attempts, looking into her lap. “They took us out into the street… me and my mother. One of them… one of them s-said… I was pretty… and another… suggested he ‘try’ me…” 

“What happened then?” 

Bulan’s chin quivers. A single tear rolls down her cheek. 

“He took me to the alley,” she whispers. “And he undressed me.” 

“Did he touch you anywhere that made you feel uncomfortable?”

She nods, shutting her eyes tightly. 

“He put his hand between my legs.” 

“Did he penetrate you?” 

“N… no… his pants were… he took his pants down, though.” 

“Do you remember what happened next?” 

“He pushed me onto the wall.” 

At this point, nobody in the courtroom breathes, and you have to strain to hear what she says. Not far from you, her father draws in a sharp breath as he brings a hand to his mouth, trying in vain to cover up a sob. 

“Did he say anything else to you?” Advisor Sung asks. 

“He… he said… he wanted… he was going to… ‘fuck me good’... he told me,” Bulan manages. Tears pour from her eyes. “And… and then I… his neck was cut. I was covered in blood...” 

“Did that scare you? When the Firelady attacked him?” 

“I…” 

Bulan heaves in, shaking her head. 

“I don't know… I was scared already... I… I don't know…” 

“Did you know the Dai Li agent was dead?” 

“Y-yes… I saw his body… as the Firelady took me away…” 

“What did he look like?” 

“Stop.”

You spring from your place beside Zuko, fists clenched.

You hadn't meant to, but you screamed the word at Advisor Sung. Bulan flinches at the sound, her shoulders seeming to fold in on themselves as she begins to sob, holding a hand over her face to obscure the shrill gasps of her weeping. 

“My lady?” Sung questions, startled. 

“Stop,” you repeat. “She's upset. You already made her tell you every last detail of the wretched things that monster did to her - she doesn't need to tell you anything else. Let her go. Question somebody else.” 

Advisor Sung stares at you for a moment, the muscle beneath his left eye twitching; he looks as if he’s on the verge of glaring at you, but he draws back, his features softening as he nods. 

“Of course,” he secedes. “Your Majesty?” 

“You have enough,” Kuei snaps. He's moved from his throne, come to Bulan’s side and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders; he coaxes her onto her feet, returning her to the safety of her parents. “That’s all I’ll allow you to take from my people.” 

“I’ll finish the statement,” Bulan’s mother chimes in. She cuts into Advisor Sung with a searing, steady gaze, positioning herself in front of her family. “That woman saved my daughter.” 

She points to you, setting her jaw as water lines the edges of her eyes. 

“My daughter is only thirteen. Her pain isn't for the man who violated her. None of us mourn for him. We mourn the innocence he took from her. We are thankful he didn't take more. If he had done so, I would have rather he killed her - it would have been more merciful than forcing her to live with the memory. The Firelady saved my only child from a horrible fate. As her subjects, you should revere her for that.” 

Bulan’s mother is crying by the end of her speech, silent tears that drench her skin and make her words fiercer. She turns to you and bows, lowering herself completely to the ground. When she stands once more, Kuei gives her permission to leave the courtroom, sending the members of the guard that were interviewed to escort the family home. 

“This hearing is dismissed,” he announces, glowering at Advisor Sung. “The Earth Kingdom will press no charges.” 

Zuko slams the sitting room door into its slot against the opposite wall, the sound ricocheting down the corridor you just came through. He rips his headpiece out of place, tossing it into the nearby cushions as he roughly runs one of his palms through his hair. 

“What the hell was that?” he barks. “What were they trying to do? It’s the kind of behavior my father encouraged! I thought I got rid of it!” 

He flings himself back onto a nearby chaise, his hand covering his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You collect his headpiece from the floor, setting it on the serving table in the center of the room before lowering yourself beside him; your hands find their way to his chest of their own volition, rubbing gentle, calming circles over his pectorals and down his abdomen. 

“It's only been ten years since the war ended,” you remind him. “People like Sung grew up with your father’s influence ingrained in them - it’ll take another hundred years for it to go away.” 

Zuko sighs, turning his head to look up at you. 

“I should sack him,” he suggests. 

“No,” you retort. “That won't solve the problem, either. Sung’s a good man, he just has some questionable people guiding him. Once he's out on his own, we’ll be able to bring him around.” 

Zuko sits up, fixing you with a concerned, pensive stare; your hand still rests on his chest, settled into the space just below where his shoulder meets his neck. 

“That's not what's bothering you,” you observe. 

“The Dai Li who attacked you,” Zuko explains. “He called me ‘Zuzu’. That was my sister’s nickname for me when we were kids.” 

You knit your brows. 

“But… how would he…?” 

“She worked with the Dai Li during the war. They helped her conquer the city.” 

Zuko takes your hand in his, locking his fingers with yours. 

“You think she's behind this,” you conclude. 

“It's possible,” he admits. “Azula is manipulative. Uncle was right when he said my father would have just killed us, but Azula… She knows how to destroy things from the inside. She's good at it.” 

You raise your free hand to his cheek, running your thumb over the damaged skin on the peak of his cheekbone; his eye, glassy and clouded the color of a full moon, stares vacantly back at you. 

“... I might have to execute my sister,” he mutters. 

You shake your head, the hand clasped within his moving to cup the other side of his face. 

“You will not do that,” you assure him. “You aren't Ozai, Zuko; you don't have to love your family, because Spirits know they don't deserve it, but you're strong enough to overcome them without resorting to the cruelty your father did. He only got his power because of your grandfather - he was weak. You've earned your own place as Firelord.” 

Zuko swallows hard; you watch the bone in his neck quiver as he does. It's then that you realize just how close you are to him, your faces only inches apart, your noses almost touching. One of his hands rests at your waist. He licks his lips, and you can't stop your mind from wondering how they would taste pressed against yours. 

He pulls away, his fingers tucking the braid that rests to the left of your face behind your ear. 

“You're right,” he whispers. Tears brim over his lower lashes, threatening to spill. “I'm not my father.” 

“Knock, knock!” 

The moment is broken by Kuei’s entrance, his knuckles rapping against the frame of the sitting room door as he steps through the threshold. He backs up a little when he notices the intimate position you're in, his cheeks pinkening with embarrassment. 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he sputters. “I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready - Mushi came from the Dragon to cook for us.” 

You turn to smile at the Earth King, standing to block Zuko from his view so that he can collect himself, wiping the water from his eyes. 

“Thanks, Kuei,” you say. “We’ll be there soon - keep some dumplings warm for us!” 

Kuei bashfully grins, nodding as he retreats into the hallway. Zuko paces up behind you, placing a hand to the small of your back. 

“I'm fine,” he murmurs. His lips brush your temple in a chaste, tender kiss, which you feel all the way down your stomach and into your core. “Let's go.” 

For the rest of your stay in the Earth Kingdom, Zuko keeps close to you; there isn't a moment when you're together that he doesn't have an arm at your waist or your hand cradled in his. Your friends all notice, shooting you teasing, knowing glances whenever they catch your eye. 

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Unfamiliar (Ch. 11)

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.10)

Chapter 11: Thoughtful *Check end notes for a bit of extra content!

It had been some years since Amy seriously studied and read the cards. There was a time when she would perform daily tarot pulls first thing each morning, reflecting on a goal for the day and reading a single card for guidance. It was rare that her insights led her astray, but the entire practice had fallen to the wayside in the past two years. Her friends found her uncanny predictions too eerie and refused to indulge her any further. Without anyone to share her talents with, Amy became dispirited with fortune-telling, and her interest faded over time. Now, ever since she’d taken the opportunity to recount her earliest readings with her house guest, Amy began to doubt her ability to interpret the cards at all. After years of convincing herself that patience and perseverance would manifest her romantic intentions to no avail, she decided it was finally time to revisit and reinterpret that faithful hand. 

Though she’d never gone, Amy knew of a semi-annual gathering of fortune-tellers and spiritualists that occurred on the equinox. Spring equinox was just around the corner and it was there, Amy hoped, she could find some additional wisdom and guidance. But first, it was time to get reacquainted with her favorite deck. 

Amy looked at her nightstand. A sunny tulip rested in a jar over a ceramic coaster. She pulled a deck box from the drawer, clearing a thin film of dust from atop its wooden frame. She set off on the ritual of cleansing and charging that had so long been neglected before finally preparing for her daily pull. A shuffle and an affirmation later, Amy picked the top card from her deck with a nervous breath. The Page of Cups. Creativity, intuition, and the inner child.

A nostalgic smile spread across Amy’s cheeks as memories of her earliest studies and readings danced across her mind. So many years were spent faithfully cultivating her understanding of the practice and training her abilities. It used to be therapeutic- fun, even. She remembered feeling optimistic and prepared for each opportunity. But after so many hardships, predicting the next challenge began to feel tactful, stressful.  At what point did she stop looking forward to the day ahead? 

Amy decided that it was high time she reconnected with that childish enthusiasm. If nothing else, it would help her understand her reading better. She looked back on all her time spent at the library reading every tome and pamphlet she could find on tarot and resolved to visit her local branch that very day. After a short while getting ready, she emerged from her bedroom much later than intended.

It was close to noon. Amy had skipped breakfast and there was hardly a thing to eat in her fridge. “Guess I neglected the groceries again,” she sighed to herself. Another errand to run for the day. Metal wasn’t in the living room, so she stepped out through the backdoor to find him crouching close to the shore some ways away. He turned to look at her when she called out to him, beckoning her over. 

“Good morning.” Amy joined her friend near the seashore, leaning over his shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?” Metal lifted his hand. A hermit crab crawled over his fingers slowly, a smaller shell sitting in Metal’s palm. The smaller one was long and prickly while the crab wore a much smoother and opalescent shell as it crawled around Metal’s hand. “Made a new friend?” Amy giggled. She crouched next to him but the sudden movement scared the critter into hiding. “Oh, oops… sorry.”

Metal handed Amy the crab’s old shell. She examined its ridges and dull spines. “Did it just molt?” Metal nodded as the crab began to stir in his hand again. He turned back to watch it. “It’s so cute,” she sighed. “You’ve been out here a while, huh? It really warmed up to you.” Metal emitted a soft mechanical ring and slowly lowered his hand onto the beach. The crab scuttled around his palm for another moment before hesitantly climbing down onto the sand. He observed as it burrowed down through the sand and disappeared, leaving its tiny footprints in the damp ground. 

Amy couldn’t keep her eyes off Metal. A dreamy expression made its way onto her face as she watched his gentle interaction with the little creature, the heartwarming sight inviting a soft flush into her cheeks. So sweet, she thought, once again noticing his careful demeanor. Their feuding seemed so far away now.

The tide nipping at their feet soon brought Amy out of her trance. “Don’t get too wet,” she cautioned as she straightened herself and took some steps back from the chilly water.

It took Metal another moment to get up. He’d spent the last hour crouched there, keeping the vulnerable critter company as it hesitantly came out of its shell, exposing itself to the harsh world for the opportunity to grow in its new home. Metal had pushed the new shell closer to the crab and stood over it like a scarecrow ready to fend off any stray predators. When it was finally settled in its new home, Metal continued to sit still as it scuttled across the sand slowly, like a child breaking in a new pair of shoes. Finally, the crab thanked Metal by climbing onto his outstretched hand and entertaining him for a short while. Then it simply went about continuing its day. Melancholy made its presence aware as Metal thought about how incredibly temporary the interaction was. He lifted himself off the wet sand and stood back near Amy, listening to the gentle waves coming ashore. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you gonna keep it?” She held the spiny shell out in her hand. 

He looked at it briefly before placing an uncertain hand on the shell. Amy met his eyes with an encouraging smile. Taking it in his hand, Metal examined the crab’s former home and committed its many ridges to memory before placing it back in the sand.

“Oh, good call. It’ll be useful for the next crab that comes along, huh?” Amy breathed the salty air in deeply, thinking about the day ahead. “I’m heading to the library, then I need to do a little shopping. Wanna come?”

----

The friends made their way into town after a quick stop to get Amy some breakfast. She’d brought a wheeled shopping trolley along to carry her groceries back and suggested they walk. “It’s so nice out,” she’d insisted. But Amy had neglected to mention the very uncomfortable bus ride that came along with that suggestion. All eyes were on them as they rode- or more accurately, on Metal. Perhaps they recognized him, or perhaps the sight alone was just strange enough to incite a reaction. Amy continued jabbering to him, attempting to make a pointy unblinking robot casually riding the bus with his companion seem more normal. Unfortunately, it only served to draw more attention to the pair. They couldn’t arrive at their stop fast enough.

They seemed to attract just as many stares inside the library, though some apparent social norms kept strangers from ogling or whispering too obviously once they were inside. Amy practically dragged Metal by the arm from section to section, mumbling “Sorry,” to him between forced waves and smiles to anyone that recognized her. “They’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” 

Amy picked up several volumes as they traversed the building: A sewing guide for a project she’d hit a snag on, a cookbook whose instructions she would likely ignore in favor of preparing meals her own way, and a  couple of novels to keep her entertained at bedtime. All the while, people stopped to look at Metal, some whispering to their companions when he walked past. As his irritation grew, so did the constant whirring of his engine. The buzzing became painfully apparent and worried glances in his direction shifted to those of annoyance. A particularly stern-looking librarian shushed him as they walked past her. Metal shot a glare back at the brave woman who returned with a sour look. Amy whispered an apology and dragged him away before the woman could give them a verbal warning.

Amy then spent longer than she’d wanted browsing the occult section. There wasn’t even a large collection- but she felt so out of practice as she skimmed through each of the newer books individually, looking for answers to her questions. She nearly brought half a dozen back with her before realizing they took up a third of the space in her trolley. Settling for the two that seemed the most promising, she placed the last of the books in her basket while ignoring one librarians’ concerned stares. “Anything you want me to check out for you, Metal?” she whispered.

He’d been browsing along with her, though none of the topics she’d looked at were interesting to him. She eventually convinced him to give a pair of her favorite novels a shot before continuing to the checkout counter and transacting with a very distressed clerk. Amy tried making her usual small talk with the man as he was regularly quite chatty, but he clammed up as Metal loomed behind her through the process. The annoyance was becoming harder for Amy to disguise.

Several more bystanders took a double-take at Amy and Metal on their short walk to the market, someone narrowly avoiding crashing their bike into a fence pole while gaping at the pair. Amy’s face held an unusually irritable expression as she completed her shopping in record time with Metal trailing restlessly behind. Most people turned and hid away the moment he made eye contact with them, but he couldn’t help having his guard up in such an unfriendly environment.

As they checked out, the two women that queued behind them stood far away. They clicked their tongues and whispered spitefully. Metal had heard every breath and murmur that had been uttered around him all day, but Amy could just barely pick up pieces of the womens’ conversation. “Dangerous,” and “appalling” made their way to her ears as she paid for the groceries. Metal’s discomfort may have been apparent only to her, but it was no excuse for the harsh words. Livid was an understatement. 

She turned to them with a sudden glare, raising her voice. “Do you two have something to say?” 

Taken aback, the women turned away somewhat shamefully. They continued to side-eye Metal as Amy finished her transaction with a rather alarmed cashier, putting away the rest of her purchase. Once they assumed Amy was out of earshot, however, they continued their hushed conversation. “It’s an absolute monster,” one of them remarked. 

Metal froze momentarily. Countless thoughts ran across his mind. Remembering his frightening appearance in Amy’s mirror some days ago stood out. The unwelcome feeling he’d had during the team meeting came rushing back. He also recalled how it took nothing to lose his cool when Sonic showed up and how crucial it was to keep it from happening again. Then, he noticed the pure rage in Amy’s face as she whipped her head back around, eyes blazing at the women queued behind them. 

“How dare you!” Amy took a menacing step toward the women as they gasped and scrambled backward some paces. “How could you possibly be this rude? Apologize!” The ladies turned to the cashier, stammering something about calling security. “Did you hear me? Apologize to my friend right now!” 

By that time, a small crowd had formed around the queue. Amy didn’t back down, taking further steps toward the gossiping crones, causing them to scutter back into the throng of customers. “Ma’am,” the cashier began nervously, “I’m- uh- I’m going to have to ask you to leave, please.”

“Are you serious?” she scoffed back at him. “Did you hear what those hags said about my friend? I’m not leaving until- hey!” 

Amy was staring at the floor from above before she knew what was happening. Metal had scooped her up by the waist, dragging her trolley behind as he shuffled toward the exit with Amy under his arm. She squirmed and groaned at him to let her go until they were well past the shop’s main entrance. He set her down in a small alley with a huff. At least there they were away from prying eyes.

“Why’d you do that? They should’ve said they were sorry!” Metal stepped in front of Amy to prevent her from making the rash decision to run back in and continue threatening the pair of pearl-clutchers. “Ugh! Get out of my way!” She just managed to slip past him when he grabbed her by the wrist. She wasn’t able to stifle a pained yell as Metal’s iron grip tightened around her- He let go just as suddenly, recoiling with guilt as she held her sore wrist.

In a moment of clarity, Amy gasped at the realization that she’d let her temper get the better of her. Worse, the way Metal remorsefully turned away sent her own guilt skyrocketing. “Metal…” He refused to look at her. “I’m sorry! Please don’t be upset.” 

Even at his most careful, even stripped of his weapons, Metal couldn’t help how dangerous his body was - how dangerous he was. For however much he enjoyed Amy’s company and appreciated her support, he couldn’t seem to subvert the expectation that he could cause her harm at any moment. He could cause anyone harm- it’s what he was made for, after all. Those women were right about him; perhaps monster was an apt description. It seemed that every little shred of comfort and normalcy he experienced was fleeting, a temporary feeling punctuated with anger or sadness or guilt. It felt wrong. What was he supposed to do in between those positive moments, anyway? The deep discomfort of the moment made him want to fly far away, rush home- but there wasn’t one to run to.

“Metal, I’m fine! I was just surprised.” She held her wrist up to him as proof. “See? Please don’t feel bad.” He wanted to swat her hand from in front of his nose in annoyance but stopped himself- why was his first instinct so aggressive? Instead, taking a gentle hold of her hand, Metal examined her wrist. It did look fine- but her earlier yell had caught him so off guard.

His soft hold over her hand was also a surprise. Amy stammered bashfully. “I-It’s those old crones! I can’t stand that they said that about you. I just- ugh!” she had to consciously stop herself from getting steamed up again. “I hate when people judge others like that. They’ll never know how wrong they are about you...” she trailed off, somewhat embarrassed and particularly flushed. 

Amy’s kind words and willingness to stick up for him stunned Metal. Not knowing how else to respond, he emitted a low, apologetic tone and slipped his hand away from hers.

“Don’t apologize,” she sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong; Actually, I would’ve done something stupid if you hadn’t stopped me.” 

It was gratifying that Amy would defend him so earnestly- not only from cruel bystanders but from her own indiscretion as well. Still, he’d already told himself he wouldn’t rely on her to come to his aid. So then, why was it so endearing? He shrugged and rubbed his arm with some chagrin, unsure how he should feel about… everything.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it? I was in such good spirits this morning. Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” She pouted pensively, remembering her draw from that morning. The Page of Cups stood as a positive reminder to embrace her intuition- to have fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to town with a friend. Then, an idea popped into her mind and Amy’s face softened, her sweet smile returning. It would be foolish to ignore it.

“Metal, I know we’re carrying a lot of stuff, but do you mind if we make one more stop?”

His shoulders slumped. Dragging the rolling case full of books and groceries around didn’t bother him, but Metal was reluctant to visit yet another place full of people gawking at him. He would need time to get used to it.

“Please? Consider it a favor. It won’t take long.”

Amy’s eyes were suddenly twinkling with enthusiasm. He couldn’t tell if he was being manipulated or if anything that could come from denying her request would genuinely please him more than seeing her that way. It didn’t matter for long, as he gave in, taking hold of the trolley and flashing her a hesitant thumbs-up.

“Yes!” she beamed. “You won’t regret it, come on.” Amy led him by the hand excitedly, cutting through alleys and back streets. If anyone had stopped to ogle at them along the way, Metal didn’t notice- he was too enraptured with the instant delight that seemed to spill from Amy as she pulled him along.

Soon, the pair had arrived at a tall building with an open ground floor. Claw machines and brightly-colored lights filled the inside. “Bet you’ve never been to an arcade,” Amy grinned. “It’s nicer to see at night I guess, but the games are fun whenever. Here,” she skipped over to a row of skill games. “It’s probably cheating, but…” Amy took a quick glance around, scanning for attendants. “Ah, who cares, not like they give out prizes for these here. Try this one!”

Metal had soon been thrust in front of a tall machine that glittered with multicolored lights. A shiny metal handle stuck out from the lower part of it. The top read “TRUE GRIP” in bold font. He looked back at Amy with some confusion.

“It’s a grip tester. The harder you hold the handle, the better your score.” She placed a coin in the machine and it chimed a playful tune. “I know you can beat the high score,” she winked. “Try it!”

So this was her game- Amy wanted to put on a positive spin over grabbing her too roughly earlier. He had to admit, it was clever. Even though he could see through her plan, Metal was heartened by her attempt to cheer him up with such an obvious ruse; The least he could do now was indulge her. He confidently took hold of the handle with his usual grip strength, resting his other hand squarely on his hip. The lights on the machine danced around the “strength-o-meter” as it sang a cheery tune.  After a few moments of this, the machine decided that on a scale of “meek” to “super grip,” Metal landed squarely in the middle. “KINDA WIMPY,” the game announced. Amy burst into laughter the moment it stopped.

Metal’s engine buzzed incessantly as he let out a series of indignant beeps. He then glared at Amy, who was doubled over and cackling. “Oh man,” she managed to splurt out between fits of laughter, “that was too good! Got a little cocky, huh?” He was far less amused. Metal stuck out his hand to her, making a grabbing gesture with his claws. “Oh? Another round?” she giggled. “Alright, don’t waste my quarter this time, you wimp.”

He shoved the coin into its slot the second she dropped it in his palm. As soon as the lights flickered, Metal grabbed the handle. It seemed simple enough- he got halfway up with his first round, so using twice as much force should be enough. He took hold of it with several times more power just to be safe, staring directly at the tip of the game’s meter with anticipation. Much to his chagrin, the lights stopped just below the top spot. “KINDA TOUGH,” it sang out this time.

Amy was reeling. Metal turned to her angrily and shoved his hand in front of her face, once more gesturing for another coin. She pushed it away between giggles. “Pfft, no way, you’re gonna break the thing!” Metal stomped his foot on the ground angrily in response. “Don’t worry,” Amy placed a hand on his shoulder with a grin. “These things are rigged. You won’t get the high score even if you rip that handle out,” she chuckled. 

Metal crossed his arms in annoyance. Not only was he embarrassed at losing a silly arcade game, but he was surprised to learn that he’d misread Amy somewhat. He assumed she brought him there for an easy win, but she was well aware that it was unlikely to happen. Admittedly, he didn’t feel very guilty anymore, and he supposed it was rather amusing… Was that her intent? Metal turned back to Amy, who was wiping at her eyes happily. She really just wanted to ease the tension and have some fun together- and Amy even knew he’d be a little irritated. She was just being... playful. Like friends are. 

A giddy smile filled her face as she came out of her laughing fit. “Sorry, just wanted to tease you a little. I don’t want you to feel so bad about being strong- I’m tough, I can handle it,” she assured. 

Metal rolled his eyes, his stance softening significantly. Once he realized how silly the whole situation was, he may have even found it somewhat humorous himself. Still, it would be far more amusing if he could get her back. He gestured toward the machine that stood beside the grip tester, inviting her to try it. It was a similar test of strength, this time with a punching bag.

Amy grinned coyly. “I get it, you wanna see me fail, too. I’ll indulge you,” she shrugged. “But only ‘cause I feel bad that you’re such a wimp.”

As Metal bobbed his head mockingly, Amy rolled a quarter into the coin slot. She stretched her arms casually, giving the game a moment to warm up. Once all of its many lights were on and the screen read “PUNCH,” she pulled back her fist and went for a forceful hook, knocking the punching bag up into the sensor. The lights flickered up and down the meter for just a second until the optics at the very top of the machine exploded with colors. “SUPER STRONG!” the game rang out.

If Metal had a jaw to drop it would be on the floor. So much for the games being rigged- Amy knew exactly what she was doing. He would have been vexed if it wasn’t so impressive. He watched as she shook her fingers off and turned back with her beaming smile. “I’m doing that to the next person who calls you a nasty name,” she giggled.

She was nothing short of incredible. Metal recalled her old file in his memory. Weak. That was certainly no longer the case. He took a snap of her then, looking cheerful and victorious, and logged it as the main photo in his memory. The word weak no longer applied and was promptly crossed out. Before he could alter the file any more, Amy had taken hold of his hand in her tender way, gazing into him with her soft eyes. 

“You know, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. I think it’s really admirable how willing you are to be gentle even when it’s a challenge. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

Metal was stunned by her kindness yet again. What was it that Amy saw in him that others did not? Surely it wasn’t just naivete, given her willingness to be combative in his defense- no, she was no doormat. And Amy didn’t see Metal as fiendish, at least not anymore. But it still took her some time, however less than it would have taken anyone else. Strangers, on the other hand, are temporary, there wouldn’t always be time to show them his true self. Metal did not know how he could possibly appear less menacing to bystanders, nor did the idea of trying to do so appeal to him. He wanted to understand, to calculate if creating an existence as a regular person, grasping at a fleeting sense of belonging, would even be worth it should he succeed. But it was unpredictable. Incalculable.

Amy had said it herself: “Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” But it worked conversely as well- on any day, at any given moment, Metal could be more elated than he ever remembered feeling. And there was something so sweet about feeling that way after having his mood soured. It was endlessly more rewarding. So what, then, was the point of lamenting over the impermanence of those moments? There would always be rude strangers, always challenges ahead. No one would ever know him fully. All the more reason, then, for Metal to get to know himself as intimately as possible. Thoughtful was a good place to start. 

...................................................................................

(notes contain chapter spoilers)

hello babesss i hope you enjoyed this chapter.

i like to think that amy has some latent magical powers and her being able to beat the ever loving shit out of a rigged arcade game is just part of her magic. also, she’s stronk.

also! i’ve been working on a small playlist with songs that remind me of each chapter, but i’ve drawn a blank for a few. if anyone has any songs they associate with the fic (or with metal/amy in general), please dm me your suggestions! i love hearing your thoughts and i’m a geezer that is too stubborn to listen to new music unless someone shoves it in front of me.

here’s the playlist so far!

12 Months’ Pandemic Chronicled | #51 | March 2021

Happy Palm Sunday yesterday, and Happy Passover from the night before! Right under two weeks ago, March 16, 2O2I, marked the one-year anniversary to the close of my first Peace Corps Mongolia service. While I’ve continued to serve virtually, I’ve done so informally as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having lived these past 12 months back in the States, today’s tales chronicle that year. 

Also commemorating the one-year anniversary, I’ve uploaded dozens of photos from my first nine months serving Mongolia. You can find those on my Instagram and Facebook, from February and March. I begin today’s stories with those. From there, I chronicle my journey across the year. 

Evacuating Mongolia (February 2O2O)

February’s final week, on Ash Wednesday 2O2O, I was in Mongolia celebrating the third day of Tsagaan Sar, its Lunar New Year. Returning to my apartment from my last supper, I read an email from Peace Corps Mongolia that we were evacuating. I pulled an all-nighter packing my apartment. Shortly after sunrise, I visited a Peace Corps neighbor’s apartment to pack theirs. Then in my final two days, I said hasty goodbyes to community members, exchanging parting gifts. 

Sunday morning, which began Peace Corps Week and March 2O2O, I and fellow Volunteers loaded into Peace Corps vehicles and rode in our caravan till evening. Then the snowstorm caused us to need to stay overnight in a hotel coincidentally located in a city that my cohort would frequent during our summer 2OI9 for training. My evacuation group reached Mongolia’s capital Monday afternoon, with briefings from staff throughout Tuesday. Mongolia had already begun to enforce mask-wearing and physical-distancing, so we couldn’t do much with our final hours in Mongolia. Indeed, since mid-January, many public places had already closed due to quarantine. 

Wednesday night, the week after my peers and I had received notice of our evacuation and now mere hours before my group would depart the country, we awaited the arrival of fellow Peace Corps peers to the capital. For, Peace Corps staff staggered our arrivals into and departures from the capital to account for both the time drivers would need to assemble us from across the nation and the limited flight options still going out of the country. Those of us who remained awake through our final night enjoyed getting to see and embrace peers for our final moments together. 

Over the course of Thursday, March 5, my group flew first from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, through Moscow, Russia, to Berlin, Germany. Many of our itineraries diverged. From Germany, I and a few flew to Amsterdam, the Netherlands. From the Netherlands, I and a couple others flew to New York, New York. I slept four and a half hours’ in a hotel. Then I flew alone Friday from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. I returned to my home of junior high and high school in North Las Vegas. 

American Twilight Zone (March 2O2O)

My first few weeks in the States felt weird, not just because of reverse culture shock. Back in Mongolia, fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, particularly Health Volunteers, had followed American media and read that our presidential administration had been downplaying the COVID-19 pandemic. Problematically, too, when leaders acknowledged it, some labeled it the “China virus” and accused Asians of spreading it. These set the tone. 

When I arrived in New York, I felt perturbed by the lack of mask-wearing and physical distancing. The morning when I’d fly out, I felt annoyed when the worker who checked me into my flight joked that I might have the virus since I’d flown in from Mongolia. Mongolia had no COVID cases—and wouldn’t have its first community transmission till November 11, 2O2O. Friends, too, when I said that I’d come back, distrusted that I couldn’t have the virus. So, although Peace Corps peers and I had already been quarantining nearly a month and a half before returning to the States—and very much craved to reconnect with folks—we found ourselves again isolated. 

Then Vegas felt weird. Nevada had reported its first COVID case the day before I returned, yet Mongolia hadn’t any. Yet Mongolia had shut down, and Nevada hadn’t. Society moved as though little was happening. My brothers still had school and were gone most of most days. Dad worked weekdays out-of-town. Thus, while I lived again in the States, even inside my family’s home, I was the only one around. I felt lonelier than how’d I’d felt before leaving my life abroad. 

The Filipina family of my father’s fiancée was perhaps the most understanding of my circumstances. The oldest daughter was celebrating her birthday that first Sunday, March 8, since my return to the States. So, I got to join them in enjoying the occasion. As I’d come to learn, Mongolia and the Philippines had more cultural similarities than I’d expected. I’d also feel dismayed to learn that people weren’t treating the youngest daughter kindly in her food service role, for some customers believed that her being Asian meant that she had the Coronavirus. 

Resettling Into Lent (March 2O2O)

Most every morning, my first few days and weeks, tracks from Disney's “Frozen II” became my anthems. I’d seen the film that Friday, March 6, when I’d flown alone back to Vegas. I’d connected especially with “Show Yourself,” “Some Things Never Change” and “The Next Right Thing.” I started to learn the lyrics not only in English but also in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. 

My local church was still open. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, our church had been closed for nearly months. So, I attended services daily. I overheard old parishioners wondering what all this pandemic talk was about. I visited Reconciliation and a Stations of the Cross service. I applied to sing in the choir with which my late mom sang. 

My second week in the States, church and schools closed. Meanwhile, Peace Corps announced its global evacuation. My peers and I weren’t to expect to return to Mongolia this summer and instead were to expect that fall would be the soonest. My youngest brother’s hs senior spring ended abruptly, so he stuck around at the house. Our oldest brother left to quarantine with his girlfriend and her sisters. 

I cleaned much in and around the house. My greatest achievement early in the pandemic was to lead a garage clean-up with all siblings when my sisters visited. The task enabled us to at last park a vehicle in it once more. My siblings and I donated, too, decades of belongings. 

Among the unearthing, I dove deep into family history. I wrote up my understanding of my father's and my late mother's ancestries, which were also mine. Months later, I'd join WikiTree, talk to distant relatives and migrate large swathes of history onto the platform. 

Easter in Action (April–May 2O2O)

Gloom seemed to enshroud the world by Easter. I saw from the telly the Vatican's Lenten services, witnessing Pope Francis’ words from his city to the world and for Holy Week. His Good Friday Way of the Cross felt especially moving, for prisoners had written beautiful reflections that made me realize how little of a prison our quarantine was. 

My younger sister in LA had also returned to visit Vegas. I resumed daily exercise routines, including trying to concurrently complete handheld video games and walk miles on the treadmill. This began my May push to make the most of my days back in America. I kicked up a daily Duolingo habit, rising through leagues, and talked regularly with Mongols during early mornings. Such helped my sanity, especially when state offices gave me a hard time trying to get the unemployment assistance to which lawmakers entitled evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.  

Around Memorial Day, an uncle and aunt visited from Kansas to celebrate my youngest brother’s high school graduation online. The relatives also took my siblings, a family friend and me on my first national parks trip in years. We saw Saguaro, Great Basin and Capitol Reef. During the trip I’d grown my Goodreads library and soon enough uncovered the Libby app. The journey led me too to begin a pensive look back on my life. 

Summer in Reno (June–July 2O2O)

Dad remarried on June 6, 2020. Shortly thereafter, I relocated to Reno to help Pa and Stepma (“Tita”) handle copious amounts of yard work. With more time to reflect, I took up the request of a homebound friend to pray rosaries daily over the phone with him. 

Another friend of mine was going through a dark patch too but had a love of films. So each morning I’d rise early to see one of his recommendations then discuss it while working the yard if I wasn’t praying a rosary. I fondly recall the conversations while trimming plants, as I wander the Reno backyard even now. 

Near the same time, the friend and another encouraged me to tell my stories. So I began to write a memoir, on which he’d give feedback. The other friend had me appear on his podcast. Both experiences made the summer feel very whole. In memory of my first summer in Mongolia 2OI9, I also wrote a more detailed series on those experiences. [Arrival (June 2OI9), Meeting Host Family (July 2OI9), Summer’s End (August 2OI9)]

I celebrated my 23rd birthday in Vegas with an overnight vigil, praying 23 rosaries alone and with Catholic friends from around the globe. I felt such joy to reconnect meaningfully with so many across languages and cultures. Languages became a growing theme for me. I’d also begun again playing Pokémon GO after having not played since 2OI6. 

That summer, I finished seeing “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (Season 7) as well as relevant bits from “Star Wars: Rebels.” I kept up with the Japanese episodes of “Pokémon Journeys: The Series.” Those, I’ve watched with English subtitles to know what’s happening. I’d also begun to read chapters of the Bible daily, at that time checking in weekly with an ol' friend. I started with Acts then Proverbs, Ephesians then Psalms. Meanwhile came Hebrews and John. Then were Ruth and Matthew. Now I read 1 Kings and Mark. I’d grown to appreciate both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles with renewed interest. 

Autumn Languages (August–September 2O2O)

Much of that fall, I was back in Reno. Yet, my younger brother had also come to Reno for his undergraduate fall semester. The guest room where I’d stayed quickly became his room, which left me a tad displaced. Still, I stuck through. Mornings, I rose early to read through a Latin textbook before daily conversations with a close friend who’d majored in classics as an undergrad.

Meanwhile, I’d stepped up to arrange meetings with Congressional lawmakers on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association. I’d also taken on roles within my alma mater Honors College and within the Social Justice Task Force for the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I kept people organized and took notes during meetings. Meanwhile, my siblings and I had been starting a scholarship foundation, so I’d taken point on negotiating a partnership with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation. 

As a nice break, I joined friends I’d met in high school on their near-monthly trips to national and state parks. These sights included Lassen Volcanic, Burney Falls and Tahoe’s Emerald Bay. Realizing that I wouldn’t return to Mongolia that fall, I booked a Department of Motor Vehicles appointment to renew my learner’s permit—The earliest appointment would be in December. 

In entertainment news, I’d finished seeing “Queer Eye: We’re in Japan,” “Love on the Spectrum” and “Midnight Gospel.” I’d also started playing “Pokémon Masters EX” when I’d heard that it included characters from multiple generations. I enjoyed how the stories felt new yet nostalgic. 

National Park Winter (October, November, December 2O2O)

October was a great month for my spiritual life. I got to attend my youngest sister’s Confirmation. I enjoyed my first retreat in years. I also got to tape videos for my alma mater. 

Then I returned to Vegas some weeks to complete more yard work. I’d also relocated belongings in different rooms and was able to have my own bedroom back in Vegas. This gave me a decent space in which to work. From November, I’ve also been hosting weekly video calls to help Mongols from my community abroad continue to practice English. 

I’d also listened to Riordan audiobooks, “Blood of Olympus” and “Hidden Oracle,” and various authors’ financial literacy materials. By December, “Kafka on the Shore” was a real highlight. In Reno, I saw too “The Mandalorian” (Seasons 1–2), emphatically recommended by a friend with whom I’d hiked at Red Rock Canyon. My other friends and I reunited to try again at Crater Lake and succeeded. 

My siblings and I partnered with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation to launch our family LinYL Foundation to honor our late mother with scholarships for students. Though my formal role’s within outreach, I’ve done a fair bit of organizational leadership given my undergrad experiences. I’ve also been helping another non-profit start-up. Through it, I’ve gotten to meet alumni of overseas programs. 

My family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in Vegas with our stepsisters. I’d also celebrated American Independence Day with them. Christmas felt peculiar, as I’d returned from Mongolia to Vegas the Christmas before, too! 

Then my national parks friends and I hit a new record, seeing Walnut Canyon, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge and the Grand Canyon. Having successfully renewed my learner’s permit, I scheduled my driving test for the earliest date—February. I returned to Reno and at New Year’s reunited with friends for whom I’d participated in their wedding the year before. 

Road to Rejuvenation (January–February 2O2I)

Following the U.S. elections came the presidential inauguration. I felt more at peace with the state of the nation after that. Though U.S. politics have absorbed media significantly throughout the pandemic, I felt relieved by the calls for unity and returns to political normalcy from Inauguration Day. 

Meanwhile, I sought to kick off 2O2I strong, with renewed optimism and control. I practiced driving almost daily. I’d seen “Daredevil” (Season 3) too and progressed in the Blue Lions story of my younger sister’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses” copy. At February’s start, after years of challenges, I secured my driver’s license. 

Mid-February, my national parks friends and I saw Utah’s Mighty Five. Our trip spanned Canyonlands, Arches, Capitol Reef (different section), Escalante, Bryce Canyon and Zion. I got to help drive at the end from Vegas to Reno, a major milestone. 

Thanks to Discord, I attended a virtual alumni reunion of my high school alma mater. I experienced our school's recreation in “Minecraft: Java Edition,” wandering into the classroom where I used to play “Minecraft” as a freshman. In “RuneScape,” after 12 years on-off, I’d achieved level 99 in all but the newest skill. I'd even gotten the characters I wanted in “Pokémon Masters EX” and nearly finished my Kanto Pokédex in “Pokémon GO.” (I've never before completed a Pokédex.) 

I finished February recording music for my undergrad parish’s online edition to our annual performance for “Living Stations of the Cross.” I got to lector at and attend a friend’s baptism. I’d also soaked up my youngest sister’s boyfriend’s Disney+ again and saw “WandaVision” entirely. Its takes on grief and joy astounded. 

Social Justice (March 2O2I)

These bring me to where and how I am today. I write from Reno, Nev., where snow had fallen and the weather grown warmer. Spring is here. 

The announcement of increasing vaccines gave me lots of hope. Since I've lost so many people this past year to COVID-19 and other conditions I'm grateful that we may near the end. An email from and a check-in call with Peace Corps confirmed that summer would be the soonest I’m going back abroad. Still, I’ve kept in touch with my people in Mongolia. 

My older brother and his girlfriend moved into the Vegas house, so I haven’t felt as obligated to be there. Thus, I’ve focused more time on the church in Reno. 

A great fount of a spiritual joy for me has been getting to help lector for my college parish’s weekly Proclamations of the Word. I received particular acclaim for my reading from 2 Chronicles, for Lent’s Fourth Sunday, which delighted me. At the time I’d been reading 1 Kings, so I’d enjoyed recognizing parallels. In some ways the exercises are like a miniature college course. Beyond regular Sundays and Holy Week, I’d also lectored for such feast days as St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25). 

My siblings’ and my family foundation chose our first year of recipients. It’s been an exciting process, reading and witnessing our inspiring candidates. I hope that I'll get to meet these students someday, but ah, the pandemic. 

I’ve gotten back into “Frozen II,” thanks to its authentic behind-the-scenes docuseries. I've also passed the one-year anniversary of my first seeing the film. Each morning I’ve sought to see something on Disney's platform—real' nice. 

Our psychological division’s presidential task force for Social Justice released our statement about the Capitol riots, which received strong critics but stronger supporters. Then came the Atlanta situation. 

In my U.S. Week 5I (Feb. 19–25), during a walk past the nearby elementary school, I’d had an unpleasant personal experience that led me to feel very grateful when the #StopAsianHate campaign began. I’ll likely share more later, but today’s blog story is about done. 

Hope and Easter 2O2I (April 2O2I)

At the last Adoration activity before Easter, our parish offered Reconciliation, so I returned again. Absolution offers such sweet cleansing for my mind and soul. Now Holy Week begins. I'm still lectoring, too! 

This summer, I hope to write more on my memoir. I’m still revising my research. I'm set to finish all five tiers of Duolingo Latin tomorrow. Then I'll get back to my textbook. 

I still delight in chatting with ol’ friends. My national parks homies and I will hit Redwood next weekend. Then my parish has Spring Retreat. I look forward to getting vaccinated in coming months then hugging folks forevermore. 

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

In Love with Another Man

Summary: Luke learns the truth about who Drake is and about his parents while Jackson continues reminiscing. 

Word Count: 1500

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Eleanor x Jackson, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mentions of s*x, Mentions of adultery, Mentions of cheating, Betrayal, Mentions of anxiety/panic attack

A/N: This part is shorter than normal because there’s a lot I have outlined for this piece but they don’t mesh well together. So in order to not go crazy or post something I'd hate, I’m breaking it into two parts.

Song Choice: In Love with Another Man by Jazmine Sullivan

Part 15 of WP. To catch up, read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019  @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways​ @bobasheebaby​  @bascmve01​  @burnsoslow​  @the-everlasting-dream​  @ao719​  @sirbeepsalot​  @janezillow​  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​  @kimmiedoo5​  @choices97​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @lodberg​  @edgiestwinter​  @marshmallowsandfire​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @iaminlovewithtrr​  @cordonianroyalty​  @rafasgirl23415​  

The creaking of the wooden panels brings Jackson back to reality, he sees his youngest son standing there. He and Eleanor decided that they’d keep their past hidden from Luke, but that was now impossible. In just a few days, Liam would show up and Jackson couldn’t lock Luke in his room or even force him out of the house forever. He lets out a deep sigh before patting the space next to him on the swing.

“Mom would have a fit to see you drinking at,” he pauses to look at his watch, “two-thirty.”

“Luke, I need to tell you something. Something pretty important.” Luke nods and Jackson begins to tell him about his and Eleanor’s past. Trying not to bombard him with too many details, but just enough to where things might make sense. He figures the next time Drake and Liam come, Luke should at least be there and have some knowledge to where he’s not shell-shocked.

Jackson tells him about how he and Eleanor actually met, not the watered down “we met while I was at work” reason he’s used before. He tells him about how were both married, not simply just “seeing other people” and that they had other children. Children they left in another country while they moved to the states to start a life together; a life with him. He and Eleanor never planned on telling Luke any of this. They didn’t want him to feel any of the pain that the whole thing had brought them, but he was trying his best. What were the odds that Drake would come to Montana and run into him? They thought Montana was safe.

“If Drake hadn’t have shown up, would you ever have told me?” Luke is looking at someone who looks like his father, but he has no idea who this person is.

“Luke,” he reaches out but Luke jerks away, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“No it’s really not. Were you ever going to tell me I have three older siblings out there?”

Jackson looks down, letting out a deep breath wishing more than anything that Eleanor was there, “No. We agreed before you were even born that we wouldn’t. We just wanted to protect you.”

He stands up, shaking his head, “All you did was LIE.” He storms off and feel tears fill his eyes. He’s not sad, he’s mad and the fact his body is producing tears makes him angrier. His parents had been lying to him for the last eighteen years. He walks for as long as his legs will take him before he drops to his knees and screams. Never in his life has he felt so betrayed, so lost, so alone. If he couldn’t trust the man who raised him, who could he trust?

*                      *

A couple hours pass before Jackson sees Luke return to the main part of the ranch. He helps put the cattle up, but won’t say a single word to his father. It’s not until they are sitting at the table preparing to eat that Luke finally speaks to Jackson.

“How old are my siblings?” Luke scoots his food around his plate, he didn’t have an appetite at all.

Jackson clears his throat, his fork clinks as he lays it on his plate. “The oldest is Liam, he’s 28, Drake is 27, just a few months younger than Liam and Savannah is 23.”

“Who do I share a mom with?”

“Ah, that’d be Liam. He’ll be in town in a few days.”

Luke loudly scoots the chair back and stomps his way upstairs; leaving his plate full on the table. When he gets to his room, he shuts the door and slides down it; pulling his knees to his chin. His world is shattering, everything changing at a rapid pace and he feels like he can’t catch up. He starts to hyperventilate, struggling to just catch his breath. Tears fill his eyes while his hands not only start to sweat but shake. His face gets a pins and needles sensation as he tries catching his breath, resting his forehead on his knees.

After what feels like hours, Luke finally stands up and heads towards his closet. Digging in the back, he finally drags out a blanket that his mother had made him. He pulls it around himself, even flicking it over his head before he curls up on his bed and cries himself to sleep. Trying to hold on to his happy memories before the betrayal washes them away.

Jackson pours himself another glass of bourbon, slowly pacing his way to the living room and settling down in his chair. He takes a sip before leaning his head back on the chair, thinking back to the last few happy weeks they shared in Cordonia.

*                      *

When Eleanor woke the next morning, Jackson was nowhere in her suite. She figured he would leave since a maid regularly stopped in to wake her, but part of her thought he’d stay. The night before ended with them in each other’s arms, whispering their feelings to each other. Typically, she’d have worn some Cordonian blue dress for when she arrived back to the palace, the press ate it up, but that day she decided to wear a casual outfit: jeans and a striped button up. Constantine wouldn’t be too thrilled, but she found herself not caring anymore. She felt happy with Jackson and at the end of the day, that’s what she cared most about.

It wasn’t until she walked down the hall and closer towards the main door that she saw Jackson; he was wearing his uniform and a concerned expression. She watched him talking to one of the maids before shaking his head and walking out. When they finally got into the town car, she learned that he had an early start due to press swarming the duchy. Though he told her not to worry, Timothy had arrived and escorted the man off the property.

As they rode back towards the palace, in hushed whispered tones, they discussed how important it was for everyone that they conceal their involvement. Agreeing that keeping up with appearances was more important than the jealousy they may feel from it. She already knew Jackson would have a difficult time seeing Constantine by her side and she wasn’t sure how she would feel with Bianca hanging on Jackson, but for everyone sake, they couldn’t get caught. And despite knowing they are having an affair, both refused to label it as such, simply referring to it as complicated.

The first few days back at the palace were awkward; while trying to act normal, all Eleanor and Jackson did was come off as trying too hard to get along. Their first few exchanges were severely cringey. Several palace personnel notice the weirdness, but no one will speak up; no one wants to knock over the card house that it the royal couple. Even though the royal couple seemed to have patched things up since returning from their trips, those who work in their palace wing know better.

Eleanor is chipper and her light as a feather attitude has returned, but Constantine has been spending most days and nights in his study. He keeps their family game nights mostly because he enjoys the time with the children. To his surprise Liam, while mirroring lots of his mother, when it came to critical thinking and strategy, he mirrors his father. The royal couple attempts to maintain their weekly dessert nights; though they are mostly Constantine trying to get her to hear him out while she mindlessly ignores him. Eventually those nights come to an end; Constantine has once against thrown himself into ruling a country while Eleanor’s Friday nights went back to being spent in a study on the west side of the palace with a guardsman.

*                      *

Constantine watches his wife’s attitude bounce back and forth for the next couple of days; icy when he arrives but a warmth when he leaves. As far as he knows, she doesn’t seem to notice he’s already picked it up. But what really threw him off was her aggressive attitude the days Jackson had been temporarily assigned to Applewood due to Officer Novak needing immediate leave.

During Jackson’s time away, Eleanor frequented the king’s suite; more specifically the king’s bed. While Constantine wouldn’t complain, it did cause skepticism with him because she had been cold for so long. But the little warmth she gave to him, brought him hope that they were in fact on the road to recover their relationship. Yet all his hope dissipated when Jackson returned and Eleanor returned to the queen’s suite and the icy demeanor increased.

But while the queen felt she had an upper hand, she failed at realizing that while the king may have been coined the unpredictable king; he was a very observant opponent. And once he had his target locked, it was game over.

Phic Phight: these lofty thoughts are killing me

Prompt from @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter: Undergrowth Sam AU. Sam’s time as mother of Undergrowth’s garden left it’s scars - and scars can go deep. Sam’s always known she shared a close connection with plants, but now she hears them. She knows what they think and what they feel and can control them. On one hand it’s terrifying, but on the other… The ghosts should be a lot more terrified of her now.

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 4,604

=

Sam tries not to think about then.

Maybe it's better to say she tries not to think about the gaping hole in her memory where then ought to be.

She's hardly the only one in that particular boat. The whole of Amity Park suffers from a ghost-induced amnesia spanning over a week. It's all anyone talks about for ages; where they were when the plants attacked, where they were when they finally woke up again. Trying to make sense of senselessness. And even now, months after the fact, there are still traces of that city-wide attack not yet repaired. Cracked concrete, homes and business too ravaged to salvage, miles of withered vines with thorns like carving knives, enormous mummified plants with mammalian fangs in human mouths, swathes of green-limned ice that refuses to melt even now. 

(Every time one of the three of them finds another frozen chunk of Amity Park Danny moves ASAP to take care of it, since not even anything his parents have cooked up can do much damage to it. The guilt twisting Danny up is horrible to watch unfold across his weary face; made worse still because for all that he and Tucker insist otherwise, it really was her fault.)

There's no hiding it: Amity Park was shaken to its foundations by Undergrowth. Even more so, perhaps, than by Pariah Dark. The Ghost King had transported the entire city directly into the Ghost Zone and did his utmost to run it to ruin with his army of skeleton ghosts. It had been a terrifying and impossible experience, and everyone can agree they only got out of that one thanks to Phantom. But the thing is, everyone in Amity Park can remember Pariah Dark's attack.

But Undergrowth? Flashes and flickers of almosts and maybes at best for everyone involved, and that is somehow so much more terrifying. What did they do? What were they made to do? How many missing and confirmed dead weren't taken by the towering ghost and all its myriad minions, but by one of them? Are they ever going to remember what happened? Is it better if they don't? 

And on, and on, and Sam's right alongside everyone else except in every way she isn't. Yes, she doesn't remember anything. But she knows she's at fault, because Danny told her just so.

Not in so many words, of course. He's too good for that. Too good a person, too good a ghost, too good a hero. He would never lay the blame for anything terrible that happened at anyone's feet but his own. He wasn't good enough, strong enough, fast enough—and on, and on. Never mind that he went and scrounged up and mastered an entirely new subset of powers just to counter Undergrowth—

(and her)

—and never mind the countless lives he did save. People were hurt, and worse, because he thinks he wasn't the hero Amity Park thinks he is. That's just the way he is.

Undergrowth was wrong. Sam knew that. She knew that. He was too extreme, too insane, too insistent on terraforming the entire planet to suit his self-aggrandizing whim to consider the consequences for whatever else lives here. Not just self-centered jerks with their gas-guzzling cars and plastic, one time use lives. There are so many people out there who understand what Sam's trying to do here in Amity, who do so much more to fight the ceaseless grinding up of Earth's finite resources than what one fourteen year old can do on her own. There are good people in the world fighting the evil and corrupt and greedy. There’s good in this world. You can't just—wipe the slate clean and start fresh.

You can't.

=

Sam remembers—the first attack. 

Sam remembers—waking up after it was all over. 

She remembers feeling sick and sluggish. Boneless. Dizzy and swooping like she'd downed too much cold medicine. Limbs slow to react, her thoughts even slower. She remembers her surroundings like a badly dubbed old kung fu movie; everyone moving at exaggerated angles, their voices not matching their mouths. She remembers Danny blinking too quickly, like he was trying not to cry he was so glad to see she was okay.

She remembers thinking with a cold and sullen fury, How dare he? 

What the fuck? had followed right on the heels of that, thankfully, because she’d had no idea why she'd ever in a million years be so angry with her best friend.

She remembers—knowing time had passed. Too much time. A dangerous and scary amount of time. And she remembers looking around and seeing the city halfway destroyed. And she remembers—

—guilt.

Guilt that made no sense until Danny, hours and hours later, faltered through an obviously edited summary of the week Amity Park forgot. She and Tucker had both blinked at him, and at each other, horrified and dismayed to find that Danny had had to do so much all on his own, that they'd been so vulnerable, so useless—

—but there'd been no guilt in Tucker's expression. No sign of the guilt that tangled up her guts in a cat's cradle until she was certain she'd throw up—

—and then she did have to throw up, staggering off to the bathroom in her basement, barely able to slam the door and fall to her knees before the toilet in time. She hates throwing up, hates the sweating and the shaking, hates the smell and the sound, hates how no matter what something always gets stuck in her nose. She'd screwed her face up tight so she didn't have to watch, rode out the worst of it, then sat there breathing wetly and hating life for a minute.

One of the boys had knocked gently on the bathroom door. "You okay?"

"Guh," she replied, throat hurting terribly at the effort. 

Sam remembers—opening her eyes, and the fear, and the confusion, and the certainty that she couldn't tell anyone, ever.

The toilet bowl had been full of flowers. 

=

That hasn't happened since, and—as far as she can tell—there haven't been any health issues that could have sprung up from having an indeterminate amount of flora taking root in her digestive system. 

She hasn't gone out much since then. School, patrol, the ghost attacks that invariably spring up outside of when she's penciled in time for a little extra chaos. She's made up excuses whenever Danny and Tucker invite her to hang out. She hasn't gone shopping or to a movie or any other perfectly normal after-school activity.

She's not hiding.

She's not.

It's just... easier, to not be around people any more than the barest necessity. At least until she feels... settled again. Normal again. For her, and for whatever 'normal' is worth in a town regularly terrorized by bigger and toothier and crueler ghosts with every passing month. It's fine. Danny's got Tucker and Jazz for the attacks that she's slow to arrive for, and Danny is—

Danny can handle himself. He's strong. He's amazing. He took Undergrowth—

(and her)

—down all on his own, no power suit or ghostly backup needed. It's fine.

Her parents seem to have miraculously caught on for once that she really does need some space; after the initial handsy-hugsy panicked relief the first couple days after Undergrowth, they gave her space (and anything else she asked for too, for that matter), only prodding her gently to come inside to eat now and then. Which she's grateful for, really, because she's pretty sure she wouldn't remember to eat at all without some prodding.

Something about eating rubs her wrong, now. The resistance of a carrot clenched between her teeth, the juicy flesh of an orange slice bursting under pressure, rice grains squirming like maggots on her tongue. She made a salad two days ago and couldn't stop thinking of the glamorized crime scenes from all those police procedural shows on TV; oversaturated, garish, someone's life torn open in a tasteless arrangement of stiff limbs. 

A cabbage is not a person. Cucumbers are not people. Almonds are a good source of protein.

Damn it.

Most of the time she hides—relaxes—in her greenhouse. Tucker had cracked a joke about that, though it had gone in one ear and out the other. Something something, bad taste. Blah blah, she's gone native. Didn't I tell you plants are the enemy?

Danny had laughed. Sam had to fight to keep her hands loose at her sides, to let it roll off like it didn't hurt while she tried to remind herself that it shouldn't hurt. That had earned her another tally in the ‘needing time away from people’ column. Not like, total isolation. School. Patrol. Dinner with her parents and grandma. She still does things with people. But every minute she's not in her greenhouse she feels this—this hand around her heart. This tightness that squeezes just enough that she's never not aware of it, and it's become so, so much easier for her to startle, to flinch from loud noises, to find herself overstimulated by her friends laughing as she is people screaming in the wake of ghosts. The hand squeezes until she can hardly breathe, and she thinks of the flowers she'd thrown up and thinks of roots, and thorns, and the fragility of her lungs, and it gets so hard to breathe—

Nobody's caught her breaking down yet. She hopes she can keep it that way. She hopes she can get over this—this anxiety, or fear, or whatever this is. 

But for all that she spends so much time in her greenhouse, the only place she doesn't feel that hand around her heart, she can't really say she's all that relaxed there either.

=

Another day put between then and now. Life around Amity Park is just about back to normal. If she's feeling generous with her definition of normal, anyway. She's made it through school without any issues and now she's free to hide—relax!—for a few hours in her greenhouse before one of her parents will come tapping at the door.

"Hey guys," she says, lackluster.

The whole greenhouse shivers at the sound of her voice.

Yep. That's totally normal. Nothing weird about that at all!

Ugh.

She goes through her after-school checklist by rote memory, biting her tongue to keep herself from the usual silly commentary she used to say along with it. She's learned better.  Undergrowth did—something to her. Something she's lied through her teeth about to Danny and Tucker, assuring them that she's fine, she's normal, there aren't any lingering effects from—whatever it was. Is. She's different now. Not outwardly, not in any of the ways Danny risks being discovered as inhuman every single day. She's not like Danny. She's still human.

She is.

But she can still do inhuman things. Or—not do. Nothing as active as ghost rays or flight or anything fun. But she can—influence. She still has an inhuman influence, and it's all she can do to keep her garden still.

Even with her teeth clenched so tightly her jaw aches and a headache blooms—nngh—at her temples, the slightest graze of her fingers across a leaf makes whatever plant she's touched quiver. When she picks up her pruning shears to clean up the tomato plants she can see them flush bigger and brighter before her very eyes. There's the tiniest, softest—niggling in the back of her mind, an itch on her teeth and goosebumps down her skin.

(mother)

She drops the shears. Before she can move to grab them a tendril of healthy green leaves curls off of the trellis to pluck them up out of the dirt and deposit them neatly in her numb hands again.

"...Thanks," she grits out.

All of the tomatoes swell to the size of tennis balls, their leaves straining to catch up. Two of the nearest ones split their blood red skins open to beam beatifically at her. There are teeth in their dripping grins, or something shaped enough like teeth to curdle her stomach.

"Stop."

The grins shrink, though the seams remain. She resolves to never eat those two. The thought of throwing them out however, is almost as revolting. She leaves without finishing the after-school checklist, opting to hide in the basement bowling alley with her grandma until dinner. It's not half as relaxing as it used to be.

=

She can't avoid her greenhouse. Not even for a day. Her garden needs daily attention. It needed it—before. 

It did.

Now the thought of ignoring it, even for an afternoon, makes her physically ill. So she doesn't know if it's guilt for not finishing her after-school checklist earlier or something—else, something left in her from then—

—she tries, she tries, she tries to remember anything from then, but there's only—

—hunger, and anger, and pride for her—

—her—

—her children. 

Nothing concrete. Nothing real. Nothing she can make use of. All she knows is that she's different, and it's most obvious here in her chil—

—garden. Her garden.

They won't hurt her. No matter what she says or does, this she knows for certain. Her garden will never hurt her.

Somehow, that isn't as comforting as it should be. All she can think of are teeth sinking into meat, and the sound of a scream, and splattering—

And she has no idea if Undergrowth made her order the—the—the children to kill someone, or if he goaded her into doing it personally. And she doesn't know which is worse. 

It's night now. Late. After patrol. Her cell phone is an intrusive blue glow in her greenhouse, the only light she dare use in case one of her parents is still awake. For all that they've been weirdly accommodating since then, she doesn't want to push her luck. It's a school night, after all. It's hardly any light at all to go by, really. She's tempted to pull up the flashlight app at least, but—

(hello hello)

(mother's back)

(we missed you mother)

—it's maybe safer to do this in the dark. For all that her throat closes up when she hears a loud rustling sweep through her greenhouse. For all that her feet feel like dead weights as she drags them across the dirt floor until she's stood in the center. In the heart of her domain.

She breathes. 

"I hear you," she whispers.

The rustling grows louder, and louder still. Tables creak under growing and shifting weights. Shadows move closer into the faint light of her cell phone. A hundred or more whispers settle in some weird space between her sinus cavity and her brain, heard like something from the cusp of a dream. Mother, they all say. We love you, we love you, we're here for you.

Her legs give out, but something cool and dry catches her before she can fall. She clings to it, swallowing a shriek. They won't hurt her.

They won't.

Now she just has to make sure they won't hurt anyone else either.

"That's right. I'm your—ha." She buries her face in her hands, feeling somewhere between playing pretend and outright deranged. "Ha ha! Can—this is—can you call me something else? Please? I'm way too young to be anybody's mom, let alone my own personal—shit, I dunno. All of you. Just—call me Sam."

That earns her a whole bass-boosted chorus of Sam! Sam! Sam! until she lets go of the vine-branch-thing to clap her hands over her ears. "Easy! Jeez! Take it down a notch, okay? I really can't—do this—with all of you shouting at me."

Sam! Sam! Sam! gets a lot quieter. Not manageable, not really, since a bunch of plants are chanting her name like she's a rock star, but at least it feels less like she's laid out in a dentist's chair getting worked on without local anesthetic. 

"Okay. Okay. I—" she giggles. This is so stupid. This is so dangerous. "Are you—Undergrowth?"

Shadows chirp no, no, no at her like hulking baby birds. 

"Are you still his, though? If he came back, would you listen to him instead of me?"

No, no, no, they chirp. Something coils up one of her legs, catching on her bootlaces and tickling the back of her knee. 

"No, you're not his?"

Not his, something whispers right in her fucking ear. She recoils, trips over whatever's feeling up her thigh, and gets caught again by the vine-branch-thing. She's pretty sure it's a branch of her orange tree. It smells citrus-y, at least. Splayed ungainly, she tries to get her heart under control. She feels like she's in the middle of a horror movie. It's way too easy to imagine some know-it-all dipshit yelling at her through a mouthful of popcorn. Get out, you dumb bitch! 

Yeah, yeah. She knows. She knows. Messing around with things she doesn't understand is what got Danny zapped in the first place. It's a long chain of events between the accident and tonight, but every step of it's her fault.

"Okay," she says shakily. "Okay. And if he came back...?"

We're yours, her garden croons, humming all at once and all through her in a way that makes it feel like her muscles are coming loose from her bones. We belong to you, our Sam.

She shivers. "L-lucky me."

=

So this is a thing she's got going on now, apparently, and no obvious way to make it stop. At least, not any way that wouldn't require her to tear her greenhouse apart down to the last garlic bulb, which would be extraordinarily expensive, extraordinarily alarming to anyone who knows her, and extraordinarily too much like a whole lot of murder. Plants aren't people, but these plants sure do like to tell her how much they love her.

So. It's a thing. Talking to plants. Plants that are definitely souped up on whatever ambient juice is leftover from Undergrowth terraforming the whole city. Plants that keep growing mouths full of fangs and strangling vines with thorns longer than her thumb despite her practically begging them to just be carrots, please. It's feeling a little too Little Shop of Horrors for comfort. She keeps emphasizing the strict no meat diet she's got them on, glad that her family's never had any interest in coming in here. You know. Just in case. Thing is though, her concern—so far, anyway—seems pretty unwarranted. Her garden seems happy enough on the perfectly healthy diet of perfectly normal plants. Sunshine, air, water, a good layer of compost. 

They just keep thanking her so feverishly for so little. It's—unsettling. A little bit awful. Maybe more than a little bit. Maybe this psychic connection thing goes two ways, and her garden is influencing her into—what? Feeling guilty? For what? They all seem so happy for the slightest bit of her attention. It doesn't seem like it'll occur to them all that they could ever ask her for more.

Maybe it's not healthy that she's thinking of her plants as thinking creatures instead of some kind of echo chamber for whatever Undergrowth did to her. The longer she lets this go on, the more the voices of her garden feel-sound like her own thoughts. And it's been going on for a while. Long enough that Danny and Tucker have noticed the uptick in her behavior, both commenting in their own ways that they're happy she's acting more like her old self again.

Yeah. Right. Nothing supernaturally weird going on with her at all, no sir-ee!

Still, for all that she can't stop her garden from going the plantae equivalent of full werewolf, she has managed to keep them organized. Well. Bit of seesaw on that. The overcrowding got sorted out by some aggressive behavior. Some very aggressive behavior. She's definitely had one nightmare already, reliving the gruesomely wet memory of having to bodily haul the thing that used to be her prized Venus flytrap off of the thing that used to be her kiwi vine. 

Point is, she has half the number of plants in her garden than she did two weeks ago, which—fine. It's not like she was planning on eating any of them anymore. She's not really—eating much, lately. She's been able to pass it off as no big deal around Danny and Tucker (never in a million years did she ever think she'd be grateful for the Box Ghost interrupting lunch so often, but here she is!), and she keeps reassuring her family that she's gotten into the habit of taking more of her meals in her greenhouse. The truth is she's been eating a lot of cereal and tripling her vitamin intake. Cereal hasn't betrayed her yet, but in a town like Amity Park that's no guarantee.

She knows it's a stopgap measure. Someone's going to find her out, or her garden's going to get ghostly enough for Danny to sense it, or someone will be stupid enough to walk in here and she might actually end up with some real life Audrey II bullshit.

"If any of you start singing, I won't be held accountable for my actions," she threatens one evening, brandishing a trowel. The garden makes a bunch of querying noises at her, tangling around her ankles like an alien's limited grasp of the concept of a pet cat. She's given up wearing leggings entirely, having thrown the last ruined pair away after her parents had gone to bed. She'd bought three pairs of jeans—black, of course—last Saturday when she braved the mall with Danny and Tucker. At least artfully torn jeans are fashionable enough that nobody but her mom is going to think anything odd about it.

"Never mind," she sighs, and gives in to the urge to scratch one of her plants along its spiny sepals. It purrs happily, and soon a whole group of waist-high plants that look like something right out of Poison Ivy's own evil lair are crooning at her for scritches. 

=

She ends up sneaking off on her own to PetSmart an hour before it closes, bailing on patrol for the sixth time since Undergrowth. There's definitely some line between crazy plant lady and weird dog mom she's pole vaulting over, but—whatever.

She buys a lot of dog toys. Her garden especially loves the tug-of-war ropes, but the bright green squeaky bone turned out to be an A+ impulse buy too.

=

It takes a while, and a lot of adjusting, and she still hasn't figured out an alternative long-term diet, but overall things settle. She finds a new balance. She basically sleeps well enough, and her grades are fine, and the ghost attacks don't get too left-field. Danny shoulders most of that anyway these days, more comfortable with his powers and the popularity boost saving the city gave Phantom with everybody. Used to be her and Tucker put in the same hours and effort as Danny—if you don't count the superpowers—but lately? They're better for cover stories and clean-up, which is fine with Sam while she sorts all this post-Undergrowth ghost-plant stuff out. Tucker's just happy he finishes out the semester with the same PDA he started it with.

Of course, all good things are temporary. She really ought to have this figured out by now.

It's a ghost attack that unravels it all, naturally. This one's a new face; some kind of unsettling, skitter-y combination hydra-centipede about the length of a limousine. Its six necks accordion though, and it spits acid. Both are nasty surprises Danny wasn't expecting, and he ends up getting tossed through the front pane of a mom-and-pop hardware store. He'll be fine, though she and Tucker both have to tamp down on their standard panicked 'oh shit our best friend would have absolutely just died if he were normal' reaction to go distract the ghost from going after a minivan. 

They circle around it, shouting nonsensical insults that it probably doesn't understand to get its attention, helped by a few firm blasts of some small ecto-guns they'd pilfered a while back. Only one shot actually gets a hit on something that isn't its purple exoskeleton; Tucker whoops loudly when it screeches in pain. Sam uses the precious seconds to circle around to the other side of the minivan to yank open the sliding door and start manhandling a group of elementary-aged kids in blue soccer uniforms out and into whatever shop is closest. The mom squawks affront until Sam hisses at her to hurry her ass up if she doesn't want to go the same way as the hatchback—thankfully empty—that had ended up wrapped around a telephone pole. That gets soccer mom moving, and they're both just clear of the van before she hears Tucker scream her name. 

She moves on an instinct honed by two years of fighting for her life; she shoves soccer mom hard and whirls around in time to see the roof of the minivan as it comes flipping right at her. "No—!" is all she has time for, throwing up her hands as bolts of neon green strike up in her periphery. The minivan crumples with a horrible shriek of metal and hangs, creakingly, not a foot above her head. She blinks in the sudden shadow, heart hammering in her throat. She expects to hear Danny's voice, either a dry quip or an earnest rush of concern, depending on how hard the hydrapede rattled him.

A nonplussed, "What the fuck," from Tucker is what she gets instead. 

She looks around. There's the familiar ghost-green glow, but it's not Danny's burning hands or headlight-bright eyes. Two thorny vines, thick as tree trunks, have punched through the concrete to catch the minivan before it could crush her.

(mother) she hears them yap at her happily.

Well, shit.

=

The fight wraps up without any other cars or business fronts getting destroyed. Danny makes good use of those ice powers, and in a matter of minutes Tucker's got the thing slurped up in one of the three Thermoses they've gotten in the habit of having on hand, just in case.

Then Danny and Tucker make matched crazy eyes at her and the modern art she accidentally made out of soccer mom's claim to fame.

"Not here," she tells them firmly. If soccer mom figures out there's a chance she could pin her totaled minivan on her—and her incredibly wealthy parents—they'll get stuck here all day. Tucker gets it before Danny does and makes a show of shoulder-checking him pointedly as he jogs off. Danny shuts his mouth and winks out of sight, leaving Sam to jog after Tucker. Which she will, just after she tries something first.

She glares at the two vines—standard curb weeds once upon ten minutes, more than likely—and thinks at them very hard. Thank you, much appreciated, stop calling me mother, go away.

She gets some kind of bizarre-o feedback that feels like chewing on gum with the wrapper still on, and also like skinned knees, but in her brain? Ugh. With a reluctance that shouldn't be so obvious from a couple of plants, the two vines sort of... shrink? Melt? Reverse-grow back into two perfectly normal bits of scruffy green in a totally wrecked stretch of sidewalk.

Good enough! Better than she expected, really! 

Soccer mom starts babbling something very loud about her car, which is Sam's cue to run for the hills. She does so, dreading the conversation she's about to have with her best friends, but also... kind of excited for the next ghost attack?

If she has to deal with having creepy psychic monster plant-making powers, she may as well get some mileage out of them. Right?

How do you feel about going to trail rides where the horses have most of the time learned to just follow the horse in front of them? I see them getting lots of hate since "its not real riding" and that ppl should rather go to riding school than to trail rides. Here where i live, riding schools don't let beginners ride without handler and only in arena so it would be pretty expensive and not that fun tbh and it would turn into a lesson rather than fun and relaxing time on a horse in a forest.

That’s not an interaction with horses that will net you experience to learn to ride safely and confidently on your own. It can also be debated how safe those “guided trail ride” scenarios actually are.  Not to disparage people who work there or people who’ve enjoyed going on them (I’ve been on a few myself), but placing beginners/non-horse people on horses with extremely varied backgrounds (and sometimes questionable soundness) isn’t a recipe for success. I’ve personally been on one with 25 people in the group with 2 employees, a lead and a back. That’s not a good ratio to actually help if someone falls and is injured or has a horse take off.  When you add in that these facilities often don’t have helmets available... it’s really just a bad accident waiting to happen.  Not to mention if your goal is to be an active rider with horse ownership in your future--- you’re not gaining anything valuable out of the experience. In my experience, the horses are taught to follow the horse in front of them (like in a pack line) and are often encouraged to ignore the rider on top of them. To these horses, you are not a rider you are a meat sack they’re packing. “Saddle time” doesn’t equate to better riding when it lacks the context of correct coaching. If you did a year of taking a guided trail once a week you would not have learned to ride you would have learned to be a passenger.  I’m not entirely sure how to interpret “riding with a handler” but I am going to assume you’re referring to one of two things (if not both):

Someone coaching off a lead line or a lunge line

Someone coaching from the center of the arena 

Both of which are tied up in being for safety and being for education. There are two things you need to know about horse riding:

It’s inherently dangerous

It’s not simple

Beginners are put on a lead line or a lunge line because they do not yet know how to safely control the horse. Nor is sitting correctly on a horse very intuitive when you first begin. To actual sit in a balanced way that means you won’t fall off if the horse suddenly stops (let alone takes off, bucks, rears, spins, etc.) while also exerting control of the direction and speed you’re traveling at is a very complicated bit of full body isolated muscle use. It takes a period to develop this and so yes, beginners are put in situations where they have the need to control the horse “removed” (in both cases the person with the lead line or lunge line can cede or take control when necessary). This allows the rider to actually develop their balance independently of developing their aids (aids = how our seat, legs, and hand work to control the horse). Which often is actually a means of accelerating the learning process even though it can seem to slow it down--- because while yes you’re not “in charge” of the horse, developing your balance first means a quicker adaptation period to using your aids correctly because you’re not having to fight your body to communicate with the horse (should be also greatly noted this removes a lot of frustration and discomfort from the horse being used for beginner instruction).  When graduated off a line, yes an instructor stays in the arena because... that’s... that’s just how you get instruction? The purpose of a riding school or a lesson barn (or just taking lessons on your own horse or on a horse you lease) is that you are learning to ride. You’re not paying them for the privilege to ride, but you’re paying them for instruction on learning to ride safely, correctly, and confidently. While it seems really simple and straightforward when watching movies or shows (or even watching people out in the world), riding is complex. I can still recall the roughly year period of my life when I transitioned from walk/trot only to walk/trot/canter. There was a lot of muscle coordination and balance it took for me to do that and then even with that it took me a while to feel comfortable doing that. You need instruction to learn to do just about anything with horses and especially to do it correctly and safely. You take lessons when you are learning the basics, you take lessons as you continue to improve your skill, and even if you got to the Olympic level you’d still take lessons. Even if your goals are only to be someone who does trail riding, taking lessons to learn the fundamentals of balance and control should be something you pursue. As I said earlier, horses are dangerous. Hundreds of people die every year when participating in horse sports, including trail riding. To reduce your risk of being one of those hundred plus, you should invest the time in learning to safely halt, w/t/c off a lead, ride basic figures, ride basic obstacles, and develop a solid enough seat that if your horse takes off, rears, or bucks you should be able to stay on. People who are really wise and smart but are “only interested in trail riding” also invest time in riding their horse regularly in an arena, take regular lessons focused on developing their riding for their interest, and go to trail/obstacle specific clinics. Those people are the ones who are really looking out for themselves and their horses because at the end of the day... anything you do with horses is dangerous so anything you do to prevent a dangerous situation is smart.  Of people who trail ride and only trail ride without any arena time, lesson time, or clinic time invested that I personally know or have known... they all experienced major falls or accidents. One couple whose horses I exercised for a few years only took the horses out to ride for hunting season. They only began riding in their middle age and never with formal instruction. So when one of their horses panicked and fell on the man absolutely crushing his pelvis... it wasn’t that big of a surprise. He’s lucky he wasn’t hurt worse.My aunt broke her knee going to mount up on a trail because her horse took off. She used to ride regularly as a under 20′s woman but has only been the occasional trail rider since she bought horses again as a 40′s something woman. If she rode regularly and worked on her horse’s training issues... probably avoidable. Her friends she rides with who don’t even have an initial formal riding education to fall back on have also fallen and had serious injuries. One broke several vertebrae and one broke her collar bone. These are accidents that while not entirely avoidable for someone with a much greater riding education (because no accident with horses is 100% predictable or avoidable) are way less common. Generally, I also live in an area now with a lot of “fair weather” (do not ride with much/any regularity) trail riders without formal education. As a result I also get to read a lot of “HELP MY HORSE DUMPED ME AND TOOK OFF IN CAP. FOREST AND HAS BEEN MISSING 48 HOURS” in our local equestrian facebook groups. Too many of those have the follow up where you learn the horse has been hit by a car, broke a leg falling off a cliff, or just... never is seen from again.  So while one may seem more fun in the short term, in order to actively be going out and doing these things on your own and safely on your own you really need to put in the work of learning riding basics. 

The Best Laid Plans - CH1

The sound of the train on the rails was the only thing disturbing the silence of their compartment. The two students inside were lost to the world as they rode aboard the Express as it whisked them back to the Muggle world for the next six weeks*. Harry Potter was doing all he could to focus on his bushy-haired girlfriend who was snuggled up next to him, and to not focus on the anxiety he felt over spending so much time in the ‘care’ of his aunt and uncle.

In all fairness, Hermione was doing an extremely good job of distracting him from his troubles. She had latched onto his side five minutes before and had refused to let go since, the gift he had given her that had sparked the impromptu cuddle time gripped tightly in her hand. The gift in question was a tartan hairband and a small cloth bag. Not much to look at on their own, but then that was the point. They needed to look normal so that no one would pay attention to them.

It had started last Christmas; it had been a rather simple plot to use Polyjuice potion to sneak into the Slytherin common room and find out who was targeting the Muggle-born students, before they killed someone or worse, got Hermione. It just went to show that even simple plans can go very wrong. They were unable to learn who was attacking students, unable to stop the attacks and worst of all, Hermione ended up petrified anyway. Oh, and thanks to a mishap with Hermione's potion his then friend, now girlfriend, was stuck with cat features.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. At first, she had looked a lot more like a cat, but Madam Pomfrey, while being unable to reverse the effect entirely, had managed to restore most of Hermione's original, human features. She now only spotted cat ears and a tail, as well as a patch of fur that ran along her spine from the middle of her back down to her tail. The rest of her was back to normal, on the outside at least.

Harry didn't know all the details, but there had been some subtle, and some not-so-subtle, changes in his Hermione. A lot of it was easy to explain and dismiss, such as Hermione's preferred foods having shifted a bit. She doesn't dislike anything more than before but her fondness for fish, chicken and milk had gone up exponentially. Harry had noticed this, as before taking the potion, Hermione tended towards porridge and pumpkin juice for breakfast, but now she was beginning to alternate between that and kippers on toast* with a goblet of milk.

She also seemed to understand cats better. She couldn't talk to them like Harry could with snakes, but she seemed to be able to know what they wanted whenever they were around her. As such she had become quite popular with the cats in the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was also more of a hugger now. A lot more. Well, not so much more of a hugger than a longer hugger. At least with Harry. But then he was unsure if that one was a result of some cat instinct to snuggle into anything warm, or just a perk of their upgraded relationship. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

There were also the potions she now had to take regularly that she refused to tell him about, only saying that it was private and wasn't a problem. He had stopped asking after that but couldn't help but worry for her.

His worry had been one of the reasons behind the gifts. While they did nothing about whatever problem was leading to Hermione needing to visit the hospital wing every few weeks, it would help with her life outside of school and let Harry feel like he was doing something. The real gift had been the three small cloth bags, two of which were concealed in a tartan hair band. Each of the bags had an undetectable expansion charm on them. This meant that while wearing the hair band Hermione could easily and, most importantly, comfortably hide her cat ears even in the Muggle world. The third bag was loose and was to conceal her tail. With her gift and a few simple fashion choices, Hermione would hopefully be able to pass as normal in the muggle world, and not be stuck in her house for the whole summer hiding from everyone but her parents. 

The compartment door opened, revealing the two youngest redheaded Weasleys. Ron and Ginny had barely been seen without each other since Ron and Harry had retrieved her from the Chamber of Secrets. The youngest Weasley had understandably latched on to her brother for support after everything that had happened to her, and after his fear of losing her that day, Ron was more than happy to be there for her.

If it hadn't been for Ron's reaction to Hermione's current appearance, the couple would have been happy to see them. As it was though the echoes of Ron's bullying of Hermione's feline attributes had had a huge strain on the friendship of the three. Harry and Ron had both stuck by Hermione in the beginning, but after two days Ron and Hermione's regular bickering had started back up. It wouldn’t have been too bad but Ron had taken it too far, as per usual. He’d started making cat-based insults towards Hermione. This had gotten her so upset that Madam Pomfrey had banned Ron from the hospital wing.

That would have been the end of it but when Hermione was released from the hospital wing two weeks later the three were informed by Professor McGonagall that for brewing an illegal potion the three would be spending the next six Saturdays with her in detention. Ron had started complaining loudly to anyone who would listen, claiming that it was Hermione's fault that the three of them had gotten the stack of detentions, and then for Gryffindor losing the Quidditch cup because one of the detentions was the day of the match, leaving Harry unable to play.

That had pretty much been the end of the three's friendship. Hermione was sick of Ron insulting her and Harry couldn’t believe he would single out Hermione as being the only one at fault. They had all agreed to the plan from the start; Ron had even known the potion was illegal. That would've probably ended their friendship for good if Harry and Ron hadn't set everything aside to save Ginny.

After that their friendship was strained but back, and the three doubted that it would ever again be as strong as it was at the start of the year.

It was Ginny show spoke up first, after a moment of awkward silence,  “Hey Harry”, then with a stiff but polite nod to Hermione, “Hermione”, before turning back to Harry, “I just wanted to say thank you again before we get to Kings Cross, for everything. And I...wanted to wish you a good summer.”

Harry shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable with being thanked for what he felt any decent person should have done, “don't worry about it… uh... how are you doing after.. you know...”, even with how nervous he was, he couldn't miss the shadow that fell over her face for a few seconds, leaving the bags under her eyes and the strain on her face even more noticeable.

She wasn't sleeping well, that much Harry knew. He knew because most nights, at least for the last couple of weeks, Ginny had come been coming to the second year boys dorm in the middle of the night and climbing in with her brother. Harry had heard her many times; she’d been crying herself to sleep.

“I'm... doing better… it's just...” Before she could finish her brother pulled her in close and just held her, comforting her without a single word. He must have been doing something right, Harry thought, because Ginny relaxed a little and was able to collect her thoughts, “Hermione, I also wanted to apologize again…” Tears closely threatened the red-haired witch, “I'm so, so sorry, I should never have opened that bloody diary and because I was so stupid, you and Colin and others were hurt and it's all my fault.” By the time Ginny had finished her run on apology she had lost the battle with her tears and was openly sobbing into Hermione's shoulder, who at this point had crossed the compartment and hugged the first year as much as she could.

“It's ok, It's ok. I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. And I bet the others feel the same as well”, the comforting words seemed to do little good, however, as Ginny sobbed even harder, “They hate me. They all hate me! Even Percy hates me for attacking Penelope, he thinks I attacked her because she is dating him.”

Hermione continued to comfort her, letting the witch cry onto her shoulder as Ron stroked her and back, “Gin, Percy doesn't hate you. If he hated you, he wouldn't keep asking me how you are doing. He is worried about you, we all are.” 

---ϟϟϟ---

It took nearly ten minutes for them to help Ginny pick herself up. Ron and Hermione had done most of the heavy lifting as Harry didn't know what to say, but had done ok when he said that he “wished he knew what to say to help her feel better”. Ginny and Ron had left after that to go, calm down and change into their Muggle clothes.

Harry and Hermione had changed as well. This was easy enough for Harry as he just pulled off his outer robes, revealing a baggy pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt that looked like Harry could’ve used it as a tent. Hermione however, had kicked him out of the compartment for twenty minutes while she changed. Apparently, Harry's gift had had the unintended consequence of making Hermione replan her whole outfit.

When Harry returned to the compartment, the full twenty minutes later, Hermione was wearing a Muggle tartan skirt and white polo shirt, as well as the hairband. Harry assumed that she was also wearing the bag over her tail as he couldn't see her tail anywhere. He inwardly grinned at her appearance; his girlfriend would be beautiful to him, no matter what ‘extra’ features she may have.

The two chatted about their plans for the summer, or lack thereof in Harry's case, and all too soon for Harry's liking the Hogwarts Express pulled in to platform 9 ¾. With all the enthusiasm of a condemned man Harry pulled his and Hermione's trunks down, bracing himself for the hell he was going to have to live with for the foreseeable future. Hermione took advantage of her last opportunity to do magic for weeks and cast a charm to lighten the trunks. That the charm was a third-year one didn't seem to matter to her nor did it surprise Harry that she knew it, she always had her nose half-buried inside a book, and he wasn’t surprised she learnt more than him from them.

They each carried their trunks off the train to the line of carts that were waiting for the students who should depart the platform the Muggle way. They put their trunks on a cart with Hedwig on top and set off into King’s Cross, the Muggle world and their families.

---ϟϟϟ---

Authors notes 

*Six weeks - in the UK summer holidays from school are only 6 weeks long. I have seen some stories give ridiculous lengths of time for the summer but most seem to use what I think is the American standard of 8 weeks but to be true to the setting it's only 6

*Kippers - kippers are smoked herring (an oily type of fish) and yes in the UK they are a breakfast food

chapters 2-45 are avalable on https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13294547/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans and https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862810/chapters/44770174

Summary:

After Hermione's second year she is now stuck with cat ears and a tail. When she goes home for the summer, Hermione's parents learn all about her boyfriend - Harry Potter. How will this is affect things going forward?

Divergent from canon. Buy one dark lord, get two free! Will our hero prevail? And if he can, will he make it through unscathed?

What was the last thing you bought at a store? When did you buy this? I order a lot and regularly online, but I haven’t physically been to a store since before COVID hit. The last thing I ordered was the book I needed for my current Bible study and a new pack of highlighters. 

What noises in the room you’re in, do you hear at the moment? The ASMR video I’m listening to and my fan.

What color is the kitchen in the house you’re in, painted? Just white.

Do you live in a town where basically everyone knows everyone else? No.

When was the last time you or someone else in your family bought a vehicle? My brother was most recent. He got a new one sometime last year.

Are your grandparents the kind who are very protective of you? Yeah.

Have you ever, or do you live on a farm at this moment in time? Nope.

When was the last time you had any kind of chips? What kind were they? It’s been a few years, but I think it was the nacho cheese Doritos. 

Are you one of those people who can’t help but download everything they find? Nooo. I was always very, very careful and cautious about that, but I don’t even download anything anymore unless it’s like a PDF for my Bible study or an app on my phone.

How many things in the past have you bought off eBay? What things? Yeah, stuff like headphones, phone cases, and bluetooth speakers to name a few. You can find good deals on good things that are brand new.

Were you always one of those kids who got in trouble with everyone around? No. I was always a good kid. *angel emoji* 

When was the last time you took a nap? Did it relax you any? Yesterday. Naps always make me feel groggy, weird, and more tired but sleep often wins so what can ya do. Especially nowadays. I’ve been so fatigued. 

Honestly, do you see yourself as a slut? No.

Can you text quickly?: Not as fast as I can type on my laptop.

Do you like fast food or does it disgust you?: I like it.

Have you got a hairdresser that you can trust?: I do.

Do you wear a lot of make up?: I haven’t worn any makeup in almost 4 years now. I didn’t wear much when I did, though.

Do you get nervous before exams? I always did. I had horrible test anxiety.

What’s your favorite alcoholic drink?: None. I don’t drink.

Do you watch Big Brother?: I saw a couple seasons of Celebrity Big Brother.

Do you like the smell of BBQs?: Yeah. It’s a nostalgic smell that reminds me of childhood summers and family get togethers growing up.

Do you crash on people’s sofas often?: Never.

Do wasps scare you?: YES.

Have you ever had to spend the night at a hospital? Yeah. I’ve had to spend a week, a couple weeks, and even a few months in the hospital.

Have you ever bought clothing online? I’ve bought countless clothing items online. 

Have you ever worn flipflops in the snow? No.

In December, were you single or taken? Very much single.

Were you happy when you woke up today? I haven’t gone to bed, yet, but I never wake up happy. 

What mood are you in right now? Tired, achey, and hungry.

Who was the last person you rode in a car with that was under 21? It’s been a long time since I’ve rode in a car with anyone younger than that.

What are you currently hearing right now? An ASMR video and my fan.

How much clothes do you have in your closet? A lot. Who is the last person you talked to on the phone? My mom.

Do you regret anything from your past? A lot of things.

Did you speak to your father today? Not so far, but it’s only 4:51AM. I’ll talk to him later on.

Have you ever hugged a complete stranger? No. Well, yeah, I guess have; the people in the character costumes at Disneyland.

Who was the last person to compliment you? I haven’t been complimented on for anything in a long time. There’s nothing to compliment.

Do you often use the term “slut”? Not at all. That’s just not something I say.

Do you regret anything you’ve done in the past 24 hours? Yes.

⚽️- Do you like any sports? 🎈- Share a childhood memory!

GET TO KNOW THE MUN

⚽️- Do you like any sports?

I used to be very athletic and did gymnastics, dance, horseback riding, track and other stuff throughout my school years. I rode until two years ago and ever since then I mainly went to the gym, because I just don’t have the time I used to. I love dance, riding and just being active, but my health has sadly made that very complicated the past two years. I don’t like to watch sports, however xD . My city hosts the biggest horse competition in Europe each year and that is the only thing I watch regularly lol.

🎈- Share a childhood memory!

Oh dear xD okay, when I was 3 year old, the main theater in the city had an open house day for kids and my mom’s friends wanted to take their kids there so we went along, even though I was technically a bit young. Long story short, I was cast in my first role that day and ended up playing in the Christmas play that year as an elf of Santa Clause xD I remember it was the most fun I ever had. Got to return to that theater a couple of years back and it was the best six months I ever had working anywhere. I wish my family let me study acting xD I would have been so much happier in life haha.

Survey #285

"do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?”

What does your car smell like? You assume I have a car. Would you ever let anybody else drive your car? ^ Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Yes, Sara. I want to visit her again, but right now I have no clue when that will happen. I have another friend that wants me to shoot her wedding that was planned for this year, but it was delayed to an unknown date, so. What was the last thing you used a blender for? A margarita. Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Yep. There's been a couple. Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? Yes. Mom and I aren't coming while Ashley's inlaws are there at her house, and then I think we're going to my other sister's since she wants to cook? I've only really overheard Mom over the phone, I'm not 100%. I'm just. Going with it. What’s your favourite flavor of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? Probably red velvet, or just double chocolate. I dunno. I love cake. I don't cook, though. Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? Well, you're SUPPOSED to wear a fucking mask, but "it's a hoax" and "you can't make me" fuckheads don't listen, and it's poorly-enforced. You see people without them all the time. Do you still watch cartoons? I'm not opposed, I just don't watch television. Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No. Do you use Pinterest? Ha, I get most of my (unedited) avatars from there. It also gives me some pose ideas for photography. Are you wearing earrings? Ugh, no. I absolutely hate how the first holes stretched from heavy earrings. I need to get a proper tapering set if I want to actually use gauges (mind you, very small) so they look even semi-good again. I don't wear any in the second/upper holes because I think it just looks weird with nothing in the first. Do you know any sign language? Not anymore. In elementary school, we did do a play however where in one of the songs, we signed the lyrics. I remember zero. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Which breed of dog do you find most scary? None. Ever been to a pottery class? Not particularly, no. I've made pottery in normal art classes multiple times, though. When you were young, did you ever pretend to “marry” somebody? I have no idea. I don't have a specific memory. Don’t you just find it annoying when people get too much plastic surgery? Oh, fuck off. Is it your body? Is it there to boost YOUR confidence? Then your opinion doesn't fuckin matter. Are you the type who usually plays it safe? Yep. Who do you think about most? It's certainly not willingly, but Jason. PTSD kinda engraved his presence in my brain. How’s your grandmother? Both are dead. What’s your favourite type of cloud? Big, tall, and poofy cumulonimbus ones. Do you have a birthmark? Where? Does it look like anything? Yeah, a slightly darker brown blotch on the side of my right forearm, near the elbow. If you were blind for the rest of your life… what would you miss seeing the most? Probably people smiling. My nieces' and nephew's came to mind first. What is your most disappointing moment in life? I've been living it for years now. I'm not who I wanted or thought I would be at all. What is the best reward anyone can give you? Validation lmao. What is your favorite animal? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Meerkats, always. God, I can barely boil it down to three words. Loyal, complex, and brave will have to do. What is your favorite color? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Pink. Soft, pretty, gentle. What do you consider to be the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now? As a child, my big plastic crocodile named Marlin (yes, after the Finding Nemo character) that was the "main character" in my games of make-believe. As a teen, probably Rebel, the stuffed meerkat Jason gave me. Now, it's absolutely the pebble I got upon "graduation" from my partial hospitalization program. What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done? I'm not sure; I've seen a good deal. Thinking of only the ones I've seen in-person, uhhhh... wait. A couple days before my overdose, in desperation, I called Jason's house in the middle of the night wanting to talk to him. His mom answered, and she talked to me for hours with such patience and kindness to try and calm me down. I miss her a lot. Is Frozen one of your favorite Disney movies? No, I never really liked it. If you were an explorer, would you rather explore the Arctic Circle, Antarctica, or Alaska? Ohhh, Alaska. It's gorgeous and at least not absolutely frigid everywhere. How many blankets do you sleep with in the winter? I usually just have my usual thick comforter, but if I'm seriously cold, I'll grab another smaller one to wrap myself in underneath the big one. Do you know of anyone who was in labor or gave birth to a baby during a major snowstorm? HAHA my mama w/ me. Do you enjoy eggnog during the winter - with or without alcohol? EW. Do you dress any of your pets in seasonal/holiday apparel? No; I really dislike the concept of dressing your animals unless it's truly for their own benefit/warmth. Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the reason for it? Uhhhhh. I have no idea. Are you a good cook? If so, who taught you? What’s your favourite thing to cook? NOOOOOOO. When was the last time something in your house broke? Did you manage to fix it or did you need to buy a replacement? Ugh, my laptop is fucked up. It's either the charger port, charger itself, or Mom thinks perhaps the battery. Her friend's husband is gonna look at it after Christmas. Is any part of your body hurting right now? What caused that pain? For once my legs aren't hurting. They almost always do from either muscle atrophy or them having been still for too long. The last time you made a sandwich, what did you put in there? It was just a normal 'ole peanut butter sandwich. What’s your favorite time of day? What’s your favorite thing to do at that time? First thing in the morning, because it feels like a new start. I like watching the sky change from pinkish to blue while I'm just sitting in bed checking everything. Where did you go the last time you left your house? I rode with Mom to her doctor's appointment. I didn't go in w/ her for obvious reasons, I just wanted to go on a ride and listen to music. If you eat steak, how do you like it cooked? What sauces or sides do you like to go with it? It has to be medium well. Idk what sauces are cooked into it that I like, because I don't make it. I like fries with steak, and probably Sara's mom's mashed potatoes would go well, haha. Do you prefer sweet or savory pancakes? What toppings do you have on them? I can't imagine me liking savory pancakes... I just like the usual: butter (not mandatory tho) and syrup. Are you someone who cracks their joints a lot? Which one(s) do you tend to crack and click the most? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NO NO NO, I HATE THE NOISE SO MUCH. My lower spine pops a lot, though. Some fingers occasionally, too. Have you ever taken medication or tablets to help you sleep? Is this something you do on a regular basis? Yeah, I was taking Melatonin to fight insomnia for quite a while. I only stopped it because my mom was theorizing that it may have been making my nightmares worse, because her dad had AWFUL nightmares on it. I don't know if it did or didn't foor me, honestly. For you, what’s the worst thing about getting up in the morning? What about the worst thing about going to bed tonight? Knowing in the back of my mind that despite my hope, today's going to be the same as yesterday. I dread most nights the process of lying down and actually falling asleep, because it can take hours. Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Not only do I think diet sodas taste bad, but the artificial sweetener gives me awful headaches, anyway. What do you tend to wear if you’re just hanging about the house for the day? I'm only always in my pjs. When was the last time you dyed your hair? Did you do it yourself or get it done at a hairdresser? Ugh... it's been a very, very long time. It was done by a hairdresser, but per usual, the color didn't stick well. I am DYING to bleach my hair so I can dye it pastel pink, light silver, or like a creamsicle orange. I edited some pictures of myself to "try" these colors on, and omg I loved them all. Does having to wear a mask stop you doing things? Is this because you struggle wearing one or you just don’t like it? Not really, no. I barely go anywhere at all though, so I have Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Or have you perhaps been involved in one yourself? Were you at fault? Yes; yes; no. How many books do you read in a year? Do you enjoy reading or do you have to really force yourself to sit down and read? VERY few. I've only just gotten back into semi-regularly reading since Sara got me into Wings of Fire. I have one friend though that is an INCREDIBLE bookworm; she keeps track of how many books she's read in a year, and she's already beyond one a day. It's incredible. If you have pets, where did they come from? A breeder, a rescue or maybe a friend who bred their pet? Roman came from Ashley's inlaws'. They have like an infestation of cats needing to be spayed, so they didn't at all mind letting me have one because I'd been wanting a cat for a long time. I love my baby boy so much. Venus came from The Gourmet Rodent, a snake breeding (and F/T rat provider, as the name suggests) business from Florida. I highly recommend them. Their customer service was fantastic when I was worried about Venus not eating. They even checked up with me a few months following my emails to ensure she was doing well. Have you ever seen an episode of My 600lb Life? No. I absolutely NEVER could. As an obese person who's been fighting her fucking ass off to lose weight for years, I don't want to be further depressed. Do you feel bad when someone asks you to hang out and you say no? Oh yes I do. Ngl, if I don't want to hang for whatever reason, I'm the kind that makes up an excuse to not seem *as* "rude" (quotations bc it's technically not rude at all, anxiety just tells me it is). When was the last time you turned down plans with someone? What did you decide to do instead? Ummmm I'm not sure. Have you ever had any “unusual” or exotic pets? If you could own any animal, what would it be and why? Do you consider iguanas or Chinese water dragons as "exotic/unusual?" Nothing stranger than that, really. I would never, ever own a truly exotic animal that wouldn't do well in captivity. I do however pretty desperately want to rescue an opposum one day, though. I positively adore them; they're my second-favorite animal. How often do you wash your hair? I don't even have a regular schedule for that anymore, honestly... I have to every time I shower because my hair gets oily FAST, but I try to put off showers as long as I can handle now because of how bad my selfcare has been for multiple reasons... What have you found the hardest about the current pandemic? Not seeing an end in sight because people are fucking dumb. Shit's not going to get better unless things drastically change. And what about the easiest? Has anything improved in your life because of what’s happened? Certainly nothing has improved. Not much has changed for me, considering I barely ever left the house to begin with. If you have multiple pets, do they get along with each other? Are they related or even the same species? They ignore each other, really. Surprisingly, even. Roman will sit on my bed and watch Venus slither about occasionally if she's out, even meerkat pose haha, and playful as he is, it's unexpected that he *does* mostly ignore her. What was the last meal you ate? Did you have anything good? Breakfast; I had Special K cereal. I've finally started to get back on track with eating okay. Do you live somewhere where strangers say hi to you in the street? Would you like to live somewhere like that? Where we live now, if you pass someone outside in the car, it's normal and really expected to give a little wave. That's very normal here in the South though, really; you don't just have to be in your own neighborhood. Have you ever tried any of those meal replacement shakes? The chocolate Equate ones are normal in my diet, actually. They're really not bad at all and played a big role in me losing ~60lbs before. Funnily enough, I haven't found a popular name brand I like, though. Cheap stuff isn't always bad. Do you make up silly nicknames for your pets or family members? "Silly" ones, not really, besides Roman. I call him "weirdo" and "crazy" a lot, but nothing truly unique. What’s your favorite thing to take photographs of? Are you actually any good at photography? Nature or boudoir (only shot it once, but I love it and the confidence it gives people). Being as modest as possible, I honestly do think I'm pretty good at it. Do you have anything interesting planned for the rest of the day? How about for tomorrow or the weekend? I haven't had anything interesting planned in eons, it seems like. Are you going to take the vaccine for COVID once it becomes available? Once it proves to be reliable and safe, hell yes. I'm doing my goddamn part in ending this shit. How much housework have you done lately? Is this more or less than usual? A bit more than usual since I haven't finished decorating my room since moving... I've been doing it very slowly and gradually. I need to just finish it already, I'm just so unmotivated. What gifts are you hoping to get for your next birthday (or Christmas, whichever one is coming up next)? I'm fucking dying to get my tat redone/improved. Been waiting since LAST Christmas when I didn't get to use my own gifted money. Do you suffer from any form of motion sickness? No. Do you contribute regularly to any Facebook groups at all? "I’m a member of plenty, but hardly ever post." <<<< Same. I react to posts a lot, though. Just don't really make my own. When was the last time you weighed yourself? Were you happy with the numbers you saw? Ugh... when I went to the doctor I think last week. I knew it'd be bad, but the verification fucking sucked. Since moving, I've gained ~30lbs. Have you got any chronic health issues? What do you do to try and manage them as best you can? YIKES I am a CATASTROPHE. I've got a dictionary of mental health issues that I'm not gonna go through individually, but I deal with them via prescription medications and therapy and sheer will. Who taught you how to drive? My driver's ed teacher. It was mandatory in HS. What was your high school mascot? A firebird. Did you go to your senior prom? Yes. What did you do after graduation? I very briefly went to a community college. What was your first job? GameStop sales associate. If my social anxiety wasn't fucking shit, I probably would have liked it. What did you want to be when you grew up? Somewhat in order: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, animal biologist, video editor (VERY brief), and photographer. Writer, poet, and artist were always something I wanted to do in my free time OR full time if I was lucky. Do you remember the first time you drank a beer? I've never tried beer and don't want to. It smells fucking awful, and because my dad is a recovered alcoholic who was addicted to that in specific, I just want nothing to do with it. Did you ever try cigarettes? No. I have absolutely never understood the appeal, but with a very addictive personality and wild anxiety, I never wanted to risk it, anyway. How did you spend your summers growing up? LOADS of swimming in the pool, jumping on the trampoline, and just playing outside in general. If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you? I'd absolutely change how I found happiness only in Jason. Do you remember your first time? No, because at that time, I didn't really realize it was sex. I know that sounds weird, like "how would you not know?", but just trust me. I don't feel like retrospecting on it. I do remember our first *kiss*-kiss, though. How much did you make per hour at your first job? I don't recall. Favorite home-cooked meal growing up? I looooved spaghetti. Favorite place to eat out growing up? McDonald's, duh, lol. Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? No. They were from different states, though. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? Don't like coffee. Have you ever dated someone who was terrible with money? No. How often do you paint your nails? Never. Do you know anyone who's related to a current or former world leader? Not that I know of. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't pay taxes because I'm unemployed. What is something you don't have any natural talent for? Speaking. At all. What is something you frequently forget? "Numbers." <<<< BIG fat same. How do you feel about your body? How much I hate it is on my mind literally every waking moment of my life to some degree. Who is someone you would like to get to know better? So I have this Facebook friend Courtlynn who seems very similar to me, and I'd love to get to know her better. We interact via posts here and there, but have never seriously talked. What's your opinion on assisted suicide? I am very much for it when a person is in serious pain and recovery is not possible. Like one of my greatest nightmares is being paralyzed from the neck down, and I stg I would spite whichever fucker had jurisdiction over me living. That would be absolute torture for me. At what point do you consider a relationship to be "long-term?" A year, so long as you were consistently together. Stable. What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? My dad's been a mailman my entire life, and he had a second job at Lowe's for a while as a carpenter. He hated it. Mom worked with computer data at the hospital when I was very young, and then she was an assitant and special needs teacher for a long time. Do they still have these jobs? Or different jobs? Or have they retired? ^ about Dad. It's his only job now. Mom is currently on disability. Do you have a cell contract plan, or are you on a pre-paid plan? Would you believe me if I said I'm unsure? Haha. I use a Tracfone, and my mom takes care of whatever plan comes with that, so idk. Would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? Mom, absolutely. I'm unsure about Dad. I mean he wouldn't *seriously* care so long as they were good to me, but I think he might still be kinda racist. Or he just jokes about it a lot (which should not be joked about, btw). Do you like when friends stop by unexpectedly? "No way lol. I’m very much of a loner and want to be “prepared” to spend time with people." <<<< Absolutely this. How strong are your feelings for the last person you kissed? I love her very, very much. What was the last thing someone else bought for you? Food, I'm sure. Are you attracted to the last person you exchanged numbers with? I haven't seen a picture of her in years, so I have no idea. I remember she was beautiful, though. Is music a daily part of your life? Not daily, no. Some days I only watch YT videos instead of listen to music. What do you think of country music? Not a fan at all. It's ironic considering it was my favorite genre as a little kid. There's the occasional country song I like (mostly ones from my childhood, though), but those are few and far between. Tim McGraw, now, I love. Did you go to your high school’s graduation? Yeah, even though I didn't want to. I didn't care enough about the actual ceremony. Who was the last person to message you on Facebook? What would you do if that person told you they have feelings for you? That would be the woman I took family pictures for. She's married and we barely know each other, so I can assure you she doesn't. When you apply your make-up, do you do it in a specific order? On the very rare occasion I wore makeup, yes. Eyeliner, usually eyeshadow, mascara, and most rarely, black lipstick. Does it matter to you if your significant other smokes? Yes. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Mom, I think. Do you like where you are in life right now? HA. Is your mom overbearing? No.

Chapter 2 of Alice’s Tale (MTAP prompt, “Alice and Jack on their way to Portia”)

Part two, in which I have made up relationships which probably don’t exist in canon, but aren’t, I don’t think, directly contradicted either. (Sam says she has family in Portia at one point, but we don’t see who it is...but there’s only one person in Portia who really has any family resemblance to Sam and could conceivably be her family, so I ran with it.)

Finally, they made it through the gates, but it was a mile or so down the road before Remi spotted the Alliance flag. Thank Peach, they got too distracted with looting to pursue. Not that it did us a blessed bit of good, but at least there's a place we can regroup. He rode for the camp, and breathed out a great sigh of relief when he saw Captain Parker riding up and down, directing the flow of refugees and retreating Corps members with her usual firm hand. She was one of the few Corps leaders he trusted, and he was glad to see her in charge here.

“Remington!” she called out as he neared. “What's the situation?”

“Not good, Captain. We've got a rout on our hands, and they're rioting through the city.”

She shook her head. “Not good, not good at all. At least that'll keep 'em occupied a bit, maybe get them reckless and drunk. We've got reinforcements on their way from Atara. Too late for today, but if we can regroup before they do, and evacuate as many of the civilians as possible...”

Reinforcements. Finally, some good news. “Speaking of which. Found these two about to be taken to the slave markets in Duvos. Can we find 'em a place to go?”

“Parents?”

He shook his head. “Casualties.”

Her eyes softened. “Poor little mites. We've been directing refugees behind the lines, but...they're just kids. Here.” She tossed him a couple of ration bags. “There's a Church of the Light a few miles down the road. They find homes for orphans, don't they?”

“Might be a bit overwhelmed right now.”

“They might be. But it's the best we can hope for right now. I'm sorry, kids. There's not much I can do for you.”

Alice nodded, clearly trying to keep her chin up. Jack just stared at the horse's neck, unwilling or unable to move or talk.

“Be back by sunrise, Remington. As rested as you can be. We're going to need all the soldiers we can get.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted, and spurred his horse further down the path, following the stream of refugees fleeing south.

They had ridden out of sight of the camp before Alice spoke up, hesitantly. “Thank you for doing all of this for us. We probably shouldn't be taking you from your duties...”

“Protecting civilians is my duty. I'm not going to leave two little kids to wander alone in this chaos if I can help it.”

“We don't even have anything to give you...”

“It's my job, I tell you.” He kept his voice even, but the anger came through nonetheless. “I don't ever want be the kind of Corps member who has to take bribes to do his job.”

“Pa said the Corps always took bribes.” Jack picked the worst moments to speak up, in Alice's opinion.

“Some do. I won't.” He took a breath, and smiled down at them. “But enough of that. Do you know where you'd like to go, given a chance? Have you ever seen places other than Lucien City?”

“Not really,” Alice bit her lip. “We never traveled much. Ma and Pa were too busy with the shop.”

“Where are you from?” Jack piped up. “You don't sound like you're from Lucien.”

“Good ear, kiddo. I'm not. I'm from Portia.”

“Where's Portia?”

“Far southeast of here, on the Eastern Sea, beyond Sandrock. The only real way to get there is by boat from Barnarock. But it's a lovely place, lots of countryside and forest, a clean fresh river full of tasty fish, even some mountains. Portia Town is pretty small, just a hundred or so people, but it's cozy and warm and everyone knows everyone else. It's spring, now, all the flowers will be blooming, and it's so peaceful and pretty...” He shook his head. “Sorry. I get homesick sometimes, especially in the middle of all of this.”

“It sounds so lovely...I understand why you miss it. I love flowers,” Alice said wistfully.  “I wish we could go there someday. It'd be nice to be somewhere where there isn't any danger at all...”

“Well, it is on the Peripheries, and there is a Collapsed Wasteland nearby, with some odd monsters in it. But the Civil Corps there is dedicated and they keep the town pretty safe. “

“Wow, a real wasteland? Have you ever been in it?” Jack perked up, forgetting his troubles for a bit, and Alice's heart filled with gratitude.

He chuckled, a warm rich sound. “Yes, as a matter of fact. See, there were these two younger kids – Sam's about your age, Alice, and Arlo's two years older – and they snuck in once after school, a couple of years ago, on a dare. Sam's not one to turn down a dare, and she got Arlo to go with her by telling him it would be good training for the Flying Pigs – he's wanted to try out for them ever since he was old enough to know who they were.”

“What happened to them?” Alice asked.

“Well, they got pinned down behind a rock in the middle of a field full of Slurpees...”

“What's a Slurpee?” Jack interrupted.

“It's a great blue creature, kinda like a big fuzzy lizard with a round clowny face – they're not that dangerous, but they can get you with a stream of nasty freezing liquid...stuff...if you don't know how to predict and dodge it. Anyway, I hadn't wanted to snitch on the kids to Mr. Isaac, our teacher, so I snuck in myself, but I had the good sense to bring a couple of weapons with me. Gave Arlo one of the swords, and Sam a dartgun – she always was better with ranged weapons – and we fought our way out. Didn't even get caught, and I've never told anyone till now. So if you do get to Portia, don't tell Mr. Isaac or Mayor Gale on me, all right?”

“I won't. On my honor,” Jack said solemnly, and Alice stifled a giggle.

“Sam sounds like she gets in trouble a lot,” she commented, hoping to hear more about a girl her own age, living in a safe and happy place.

Remington laughed out loud. “That she does, especially the time she beat up the mayor's son. But she got off easy for that one.”

“How come?”

“She beat him up because he'd been picking on his little sister Ginger, and the mayor dotes on his daughter. Ginger's a sweet girl, but she's kinda fragile – her mother died when she was born, she'd never been strong either, and it seems like Ginger takes after her. But her brother Gust thought of her as the one who killed his Mama, and he was pretty awful to her. Sam kicked his butt into next Tuesday, and he left both of 'em alone after that. Last I heard, he'd taken himself off to Atara to study architecture or something. Sam always did hate a bully. She's got a heart of gold, she really does, and she'll always look out for anyone who needs her help. You ought to look her up, if you do get to Portia. Her family are refugees from Lucien too.”

“Really?” Alice asked. “How did they get there?”

“Her Pa is in the Civil Corps, in the front lines a bit further west of here, and her Ma got tired of always being in the danger zones. So she left before Sam was born, and headed down to the coast with Sam's older sister, Carol. Sam's Pa came to visit sometimes, when he was on leave, and Sam was born a few years later, just before her Ma decided to move into Portia Town. But her Ma got the sweating pox, and she died when Sam was only four, so she was mostly raised by her sister, and Carol wasn't much more than a girl herself. So Sam kinda grew up wild. But like I said, she's got a good heart, and she's done all right. And now Carol's gotten married, and had triplets, and Sam babysits for her pretty regularly, so it all comes full circle.”

Jack looked up at his sister. “Are you gonna raise me, now, Alice?”

“Hopefully she won't have to,” Remington said. “The Church will find you a nice family to take you in.”

“But I'll stay with you, I promise. No matter what, I won't let them split us up.” Alice wrapped her arms around her brother and hugged him hard.

“You keep to that. You two stick together and care for each other, and everything will be OK.” Remington hoped the kids couldn't hear the way the words had to fight past the sudden tightness in his throat. He'd never had siblings by blood, but Sam and Arlo were as close as made no difference, and he suddenly missed them both terribly.