#and showing up at dad's today with soup and wrapped presents and happy and not spoiling the mood and eating the fucking pork that i don't li

[grumpyfaceurn]

it’s unfair. people keep telling you things will get better and they never do, not after years and years and YEARS of therapy, not after antidepressants, not after adhd medication, it’s just all the same shit over and over and over again and here I am having a fucking meltdown on christmas eve because my kitchen is dirty and everything is out of control, you take two steps forward and three steps back and people tell you to look at the two steps not the three but all you can think of your mother losing it more and more and more and not remembering your birthday and constantly trying to pack to leave somewhere and not being able to say where but she has to go and honestly I have about as much over my control now as she did and

FUCK

#and it's all just fucking brain chemistry #god please all I want is something to hold on to anything at all but everything is drifting and shifting and i cant fuckign take it #yes this is all about trying to clean my kitchen #and showing up at dad's today with soup and wrapped presents and happy and not spoiling the mood and eating the fucking pork that i don't li #like #also how does my father not realise that? #so many fights over food and so much i dont like and he just... yeah were having pork #dont know if im madder at him for not knowing or myself for not saying out loud that i dont like it #which is somethign that just gets trained out of you when youre a kid who doesnt like 80% of all food options #god

[jackfrostsander]

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday little Robin! Happy birthday to you!

Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33374809

Friday August 20th, 2021

08:43

Robbe slowly woke up… With his eyes still closed his hand looked for the warmth of Sander’s body next to him… “San???” Robbe jumped up as his hand had felt nothing but cold bedsheets. There was no trace of Sander in his bed except for his intoxicating smell that still emanated from the bedsheets. Robbe jumped out of bed, took the first shirt he could find from the floor – Sander’s lightning bolt t-shirt – and went to check the bathroom… Nope, nobody there… Maybe Sander woke up before him and is already having breakfast downstairs?

As Robbe ran into the living room he got the surprise of his life… A large banner hang across the room saying “Happy 18th birthday!”.

As Robbe walked in Sander and his mum started to sing together:

“Long will he live… Long will he live… Long will he live in the gloria! In the gloria! In the gloria! Hieperdepiep hooray!”

Robbe ran towards Sander and jumped into his arms like a hyperexcited little child. Sander nearly lost his balance… But before he even got his feet steady again Robbe was already showering him in kisses. Sander allowed him to indulge and so for the next several minutes they did nothing but exchange kisses and ‘I love you’s’.

Eventually Robbe remembered that his mum was standing there patiently waiting to wish her son a happy birthday too so he reluctantly let go of Sander’s comforting embrace. Robbe turned towards his mother. “Happy birthday Robbe! No mum could be prouder of her son” Charlotte said. “I love you mum” Robbe replied before hugging her. She gave him three birthday kisses and then pulled back while her hands retrieved a gift from behind her back. She gave the box, wrapped in orange gift wrap, to Robbe who eagerly opened it. Inside he found a box of his favourite cookies. “Thanks mum!” Robbe said. “I have something else…” Charlotte added, “But I couldn’t wrap it… I bought you a licence for the video editing software you need for university…”. “Mum… You didn’t need to… OMG, Thank you so much…” Robbe said before hugging her again. The software was not cheap and since the breakup with his dad she had to pay everything from a single income and that meant that it wasn’t always easy… So, as happy as Robbe was with his present, he also was feeling somewhat guilty that his mum had spent so much money on his gift.

“First gift of the day” Sander said while handing a drawing over to Robbe. It depicted Robbe spray painting the garbage truck. A memory of the first time Sander had seen him and had instantly fallen for him… “It’s amazing San! Thank you!” Robbe exclaimed before pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. “Oooo wait… I am not done yet…” Sander said as he handed Robbe a long rectangular box that was wrapped in Sander's favourite Bowie gift wrap paper. "For me?" Robbe asked surprised. "For who else..." Sander teased. "Thank you San!" Robbe exclaimed as he started to unwrap the box. Inside he found a plain cardboard box. Robbe burned with curiosity for what was hidden inside this box. He opened the box and... "A skateboard!" Robbe blurted out in joy. "Check the bottom side" Sander instructed. Robbe turned the deck over and... Most skateboards have some kind of art decoration on the bottom but this one... This one had been spray painted by his artist... "Sander..." Robbe said with an open mouth as he admired the work of his talented boyfriend. Robbe put the board down, turned towards Sander and pulled his lover in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Sander's neck while his lips never departed those of Sander. He could spend the whole day like this... Just being with Sander... Feeling his skin against his own... Feeling those soft lips and warm tongue... Inhaling Sander's mesmerizing smell... Oh, he didn't need anything more to have a perfect birthday...

Then Sander took Robbe to the kitchen where a pile of freshly baked pancakes was waiting for them… There was butter, jam, different sugars, chocolate topping, and whipped cream as complements to the pancakes. Robbe was instantly salivating at the delicious smell. How lucky was he that his boyfriend could cook… Because he didn’t get much further than instant noodles… But Sander could make all sorts of things. Not just croques but also spaghetti with homemade bolognaise sauce, steak frites, witloof with ham in cheese sauce,… and the fresh soup he made for Robbe when he was in bed with a cold. Sander nursed him for days until Robbe felt better again. For sure, Sander’s fresh soup and honey-spiked warm tea had helped to clear his airways.

“Are there any croques with cardamon?” Robbe teased his boyfriend. Sander made a disgusted face upon being remembered of Robbe’s little experiment at the sea earlier this summer… Sander had told him that they would taste awful but Robbe had stubbornly ignored his boyfriend’s advice. When the croque was ready it really did taste badly but Robbe forced himself to take several bites to avoid having to agree with Sander…

Robbe grabbed a pancake from the pile and added whipped cream and chocolate topping to it. Next, he rolled it up into a delicious sweet bite-sized roll from which he took a bite. Hmmmm, heaven… He wanted to share his creation with his boyfriend so he turned towards Sander and fed him another bite from the rolled up pancake. Sander closed his eyes as he enjoyed the food liking the chocolate sauce from his lips with his tongue… Robbe nearly combusted at seeing Sander act like this. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional on Sander’s behalf or if he was oblivious to the effect that his actions had on his boyfriend… Well… knowing Sander he probably was well aware of the fact that he was a massive tease by licking his lips like this…

Robbe couldn’t control himself and before Sander had opened his eyes Robbe’s lips were pressed against his. He tasted the chocolate/whipped cream/pancake taste from Sander’s lips mixed with the black coffee that his boyfriend must have had earlier today… This kiss quickly deepened and Robbe nearly forgot that he was in his mum’s kitchen… Luckily he remembered where he was before things got too far… He pulled back and looked deeply into those emerald eyes of his perfect boyfriend. How lucky he was… He could stare into those eyes all day and not grow tired off it. He was mesmerised by his boyfriend’s beauty… He started to caress Sander’s cheek while whispering “I love you soooo much”. And Sander melted into a puddle in front of him…

11:03

"Come" Sander instructed while extending his hand in Robbe's direction. "Where are we going?" Robbe demanded to know. "Surprise... Come" Sander repeated. Robbe smiled softly. The unpredictable nature of Sander was one of the things he loved the most. He loved the cute and special surprises that Sander regularly planned for him. He knew that with Sander by his side life would never be boring. So, he enthusiastically grabbed Sander's extended hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of his mum's home on the way to whatever adventure Sander had in stall for him...

Once outside Robbe wanted to grab their bikes but Sander stopped him. "Let's walk" Sander suggested. Robbe gave Sander a quick rub on his back before interlocking his hand in Sander's. And so, hand in hand they walked across town... Stopping regularly to take some artistic pictures or inspect some street art...

12:19

Robbe's stomach growled. "Getting hungry?" Sander inquired. "Fainting" Robbe replied. "Well, that's perfect on schedule..." Sander replied earning him a confused look from Robbe. "We're nearly at the restaurant where I reserved a table for us..." Sander clarified. "Not at the hospital, I hope?" Robbe jokingly asked. Sander was confused for a moment until he noticed that they were indeed walking past the hospital. Sander snorted. "Nope, something much better than under-seasoned bland potato puree they serve in hospitals..." Sander replied with a smirk.

Not even a minute later they arrived at Sander's chosen restaurant. Robbe had expected to eat some burgers and fries or pizza... Or maybe a steak frites at a brasserie... However, that was clearly not what Sander had in mind for today… "A one Michelin star restaurant!?" Robbe exclaimed in disbelief. "From the best dessert chef of Belgium" Sander added. "But... That's too expensive..." Robbe said. "Nothing is too expensive for you..." Sander replied before pulling Robbe towards the entrance gate of the restaurant.

"Good afternoon young gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?" the maître d' asked. "Yes, on the name of IJzermans-Driesen" Sander replied. "Ok, let me show you your table" the maître d' said as he guided the two boys to a lovely table at the terrace outside of the restaurant. It was the ideal weather to eat outside. Not too cold and also not oppressively warm… Just the perfect mild Belgian summer weather with a slight breeze. Only rain could be a problem according to the weather forecast but so far it had remained dry and the sky looked clear...

The maître d' handed the boys the menu cards and asked if he could already bring an aperitif. "Two glasses of champagne" Sander immediately replied. "Champagne?" Robbe said in disbelief. "It's your birthday sweetie" Sander said. Robbe's worries about Sander's spending become even worse when he opened up the menu card. "Any idea what you would like?" Sander asked. "Maybe just the brioche wagyu" Robbe suggested. "Sweetie, its fine. Ignore the prices..." Sander said, "What do you think of the tacos as a starter?". "Tacos... That's sounds nice" Robbe said. "Ok, and what do you think about sea bass for a main?" Sander suggested. Robbe quickly checked Sander's suggestion... 49.50 euro for the bass... Robbe felt so uncomfortable to have Sander spend that much money on him... Sander must have noticed... "Sweetie... You only once become 18... Just relax and enjoy... Sometimes one just should stop thinking about things and just enjoy the special moments..." Sander said. Robbe smiled. "You're special enough..." Robbe said, "I don't need fancy food... Just having you by my side...". "You're such a romantic..." Sander teased.

13:55

After a mind-blowing starter and an exquisite main dish the boys were waiting for dessert when... The chef of the restaurant, Robbe recognized him from his TV-show that his mother watches, walks out with two plates and comes over to them. He places a desert plate in front of Robbe with in chocolate glace "Happy 18th birthday" piped on it. "Happy birthday young man" the chef says, "I hope you have enjoyed your lunch?". "It was outstanding! A true delight for the palate!" Robbe complimented the chef. "Thank you. Enjoy your desert and the rest of your birthday" the chef said before returning to the kitchen.

14:22

After an astonishing gastronomic lunch the boys decided to use the restrooms before leaving the restaurant. As they walked in Robbe observed that they were alone there so in an impulse he changed plans and pushed Sander against the wall… Before his head could hit the wall Robbe inserted his hand. He pushed his body impossibly close to Sander’s and they started to kiss passionately… Robbe moaned… His body burning with desire… No matter how close their bodies were it would never be close enough for Robbe… Sander… Sander… Sander… was the only thing Robbe could think about. He was in a public space… He shouldn’t take things too far… But trying to constrain himself was soooo difficult… It felt like his whole body was screaming for Sander… He was slowly losing the battle that was going on in his mind… Until… Footsteps… Someone was approaching the door… Robbe quickly withdrew and went to the sink to wash his hands while Sander went to use the restroom…

21:15

"Come" Sander said as he pulled Robbe towards what looked like an abandoned factory. "San, what are you doing?" Robbe objected as Sander pulled him past the fence. He had no intention of getting arrested for trespassing on his birthday... But Sander didn’t seem to care. "Come..." Sander instructed again. He pulled Robbe towards the door and opened the door…

“Surprise!” dozens of voices shouted. Everyone was there… The broerrrs, his parents, Sander’s parents, his aunt, his grandparents, Zoë, Senne, Milan, Yasmina,… “Third surprise” Sander beamed.

The old factory was in fact a party venue and it had been completely decorated… All his family and friends were standing around cocktail tables covered in black spandex. The sealing was covered in various coloured spots, party lasers and mirror balls. There was a bar, dance floor and music installation. Hanging on the wall in front of him was “18” spelled out in silver Mylar balloons surrounded by floating black and white balloons. But nothing could have prepared Robbe, and also most of the people present, for what was coming next…

21:21

Suddenly, Sander got down on his one knee. In the background Bowie’s Wedding song started to play… “Robbe IJzermans… My angel… The love of my life… My soulmate… The sun who illuminates my existence… Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” Sander asked while he presented Robbe with a flat silver, satin-finish, comfort-fit, 7 mm wide engagement ring that had a lightning bolt engraved in it. It was a truly stunning ring, clearly chosen by someone with impeccable artistic taste…

Robbe was speechless… This wasn’t happening… Did Sander really just asked him to marry him??? Robbe’s heart skipped a beat or two and his brain went into a mild epileptic seizure as he was trying to comprehend what was happening… “Marry… you…” Robbe finally stuttered in a questioning tone. “Yes, I want to marry you” Sander replied.

Robbe was silent for another brief moment before he spoke: “On one condition…”. This must have taken Sander by surprise as he instantly gave Robbe a confused look. Robbe bended down and whispered in his ear: “I am not marrying nude”. Sander snorted at Robbe’s joke but also blushed a bit when he remembered the conversation from almost 2 years ago... “Condition accepted!” Sander loudly proclaimed as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and started to kiss him. Both boys were in tears now. Happy tears.

The beginning of their relationship had been a bit chaotic and Robbe struggled with his internalized homophobia and Sander with the demons in his head and the doubts about if Robbe would stay with him when all aspects of him got revealed… However, it didn’t took Robbe more than two months after first meeting Sander to be completely convinced that this was the boy he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sander made him feel things that he didn’t even know one could feel… And those feelings have never changed… Every time Sander touches or kisses him still feels as special as that first time… Every single time Robbe gets butterflies in his stomach, chills though his spine, and Chernobyl in his head… A never ending honeymoon phase…

Their family and friends started to applaud. After making out for a few minutes the awkward position started to become uncomfortable enough to force them to stop kissing and get up. Sander quickly placed the ring on Robbe’s finger before pulling him in for more kisses.

After a few minutes of pure bliss… Making out with Sander… The boys finally broke apart ready to accept the birthday and engagement wishes from their family and friends. But first, Sander snapped a picture of his fiancée’s hand with the ring and uploaded it on his Instagram. As caption he added a fragment from Bowie’s wedding song:

I believe in magic

Angel for life

Robbe got a message from his mum. It was several pics that she had taken of Sander proposing to him. Robbe quickly looked through the pics and decided upon the best one. He was going to upload this on his Instagram to show the world that Sander was his. Robbe isn’t the boasting type of person but he can’t help to feel soooo lucky and proud to say that Sander is his and the whole world can know it. Sander is his… Even after all this time this thought was almost surreal to Robbe. Why did the universe grant him such happiness? “Nowhere as happy as we are…” Robbe remembered Sander’s words. How true this statement was…

"But where will we live?" Robbe asked Sander. "You and Sander can keep living with me... If you want at least... Until after you finish university and have the means to find a place of your own..." Charlotte interrupted. "I have the best mum and boyfriend in the whole world!" Robbe exclaimed while jumping around his mum's neck like the baby koala he is. "Fiancée" Sander corrected him earning him a playful push from Robbe back.

In the meantime Sander’s parents had walked towards them… “Happy birthday Robbe and welcome in the family” Isabelle said. “Thank you” Robbe said as he hugged Sander’s mum. “You’re the best son-in-law that any mother could imagine… And know that you and Sander can always count on us if you need our help” she said. Robbe smiled: “Thank you so much”. He felt Sander’s father’s hand on his shoulder so he let loose of Isabelle and turned toward him. “Happy birthday Robbe!” Charles said. “Thank you” Robbe said with a smile. “We have something for you that you will soon need…” Charles said as he handed over a box. Robbe opened the box and found… “A Nikon Z6 II!!!” Robbe exclaimed. Sander’s parents were quite well-to-do but that was exuberant even by their standards… “I… I… can’t…” Robbe stuttered. “We’ve only got one future son-in-law… And you deserve it Robbe. You really do. Look at Sander. We’ve never seen him this happy in his whole life. And I know you will make all of us proud with your movies” Charles said. Robbe blinked away a tear. Not only did he have the best boyfriend but also the best parents-in-law that anyone could wish for… Indeed, Sander’s parents had always been there for him and Sander… From the first day they had welcomed him with open arms.

Suddenly his dad showed up and grabbing him by the shoulder he lead Robbe a meter or two away from Sander and his parents. “Happy birthday son and congratulations with your engagement” Louis said. “Thanks dad!” Robbe replied. His dad took a little box from his pocket and gave it to him. Robbe unwrapped it… “A new phone!” Robbe exclaimed. “Your current one is quite beaten up… So, I think you can use this…” his dad explained. “Yes! Thank you dad!” Robbe smiled. Robbe was about to turn around when his dad hold him by the shoulder. “You know… I mean… You’re still young… You don’t have to rush into things…” Louis started. “Dad, what are you saying?” Robbe asked in a slight fierce tone as he didn’t like where his dad was going. “Your mum and I also got married at young age…” Louis added. Robbe didn’t like this conversation at all. He would like to tell his dad what he thinks about the fact that he cheated on his mum and then left her. But this was a happy day and he was not going to let his dad ruin it. So, he just turned around without saying something. “Robbe…” his dad yelled but Robbe decided to ignore him.

He didn’t get far before Sander appeared next to him. He must have noticed that Robbe was irritated after that short talk with his dad. His boyfriend is so observant. “Nothing, I am fine San” Robbe replied. Sander clearly didn’t believe it as he gave Robbe a ‘tell me what’s wrong’ look. “Just my dad… He’s annoying again… But I am not going to let him ruin the happy mood” Robbe said. He gave Sander a smile to let him know that he was truly fine. Sander didn’t seem fully reassured yet so Robbe added: “Nowhere as happy as we are”. This sentence had since become one of the reoccurring lines that they used to profess their love to each other…

Robbe and Sander spend the next half an hour going around to everyone to receive Robbe’s birthday wishes and presents and their engagement wishes. Zoë gave him a new beanie. Jens gave him two presents. One from himself and one in name of Jana who was back in New York. And then there was Noor… She had given him a lightning bolt earing. Robbe seriously doubted he would get the opportunity to wear it as his boyfriend would probably steal it… After all, Sander got his right ear pierced recently…

22:02

“DJ Sobbe!” Jens yelled. “Sobbe! Sobbe! Sobbe!” everyone started to chant as the boys made their way to the music installation. Robbe grabbed the mic and yelled: “Who’s in for a partyyyyy!” while Sander got the first song playing. Moyo came over and handed the lovers two beers. “Cheers!” Robbe said as he clinked his bottle against Moyo’s. “The first broerrr to get married…” Moyo said, “I am focking proud of you!”. Robbe beamed.

02:18

The party had ended about twenty minutes ago and Robbe at first thought that Sander was walking him home but he soon noticed that they were heading in a different direction… Now, they were walking down the ‘Keizersstraat’. “Could it be?” Robbe started to wonder. And of course… They halted in front of THEIR hotel. “Penthouse suite for the night? Large bed and nobody to interrupt us…” Sander asked. “Sander…” Robbe said in disbelief. There didn’t seem to come an end to the surprises that Sander had in stall for him… “Shall we repeat that night?” Sander asked. Robbe beamed. “I promise I won’t run away this time” he added. “You better don’t or I shackle you to the bed…” Robbe teased. “Ooooo… I like your thinking…” Sander replied with a smirk. Most often Sander tended to dominate in bed but he also loved to occasionally give complete control to Robbe… “Be careful what you wish for…” Robbe continued to tease.

#robbe’s 18th birthday #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sander ⚡️ #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfam #perfect love #soulmates #happy 21:21 #21:21 #fanfic: sobbe

[youngerdrgrey]

love me wilder (love me more) // scenes from Ryan and Sophie’s relationship

about: Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary asks, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

and other questions about Ryan and Sophie's relationship. + you can read this on ao3 too.

.

.

Who asks the other on dates? Once they’re dating, it’s pretty even, but Sophie does get the credit for their first official date. It happens on the third time that Ryan bails on plans with Sophie and Jordan. They’re supposed to be seeing an art installation for their self-proclaimed ‘Black girl date night.’ But Sophie shows up to The Hold Up to pick up Ryan, and Ryan’s tending bar with an apologetic and frustrated grin.

Sophie stomps over to the bar. “Again, Ryan?”

Ryan slides a drink to the customer beside Sophie. “Yes, again. Patrice is sick and—”

“And nobody else can cover? You’re the manager.” Sophie says. “Call someone in.”

Ryan takes the credit card from the customer, who unabashedly watches Ryan as she swipes the card in the reader. Her work tank’s tied into a crop top like always, and she’s pulled her hair back in a way that really draws the attention to her neck.

Ryan says, “I don’t abuse my power.” It’s the sort of dig that a few months ago would’ve started a fight, but today it just makes Sophie groan and dig her elbows into the bar top to get closer to Ryan.

“You don’t do anything,” Sophie corrects. At this point, Ryan's either working as Batwoman, or working at the bar. She has no social life, which kind of screws things up for the one person who's actively trying to spend time with her.

Ryan snorts. “Okay, choice words from the lady going on a date with her sister on a Friday night.”

Sophie levels Ryan with a serious stare. “I’d go with you, but you’re too busy.” Ryan rolls her eyes, but Sophie isn’t joking. There’s no hint of a smile, no hitch in her voice. Ryan rewinds the last few minutes in her head.

“Wait —” Ryan circles her hands backwards in front of her. Rewind again. Reprocess the fact that Sophie used date and Ryan in the same context. “—are you serious? You’re... you’re actually—”

Sophie chuckles, and there’s a bit of a nervous shake under it. “And I thought I was the inexperienced one here.”

“You are,” Ryan says. That gets a glare from Sophie. Ryan plucks the receipt for the customer off the printer and slides that to them before turning her focus fully back to Sophie. “But I’m game.”

Sophie grins. “Really?”

Ryan flashes a full smile back. “Yeah. As soon as Patrice gets better.”

“Let me make her some soup then, damn.”

.

.

Who is the bigger cuddler?

Ryan. She’s very affectionate, and she loves snuggling up anywhere she can. Mary complains sometimes about how often she comes home to find Ryan and Sophie on the couch.

Luke cringes when Mary says it. His eyes jump from the Bat screens to Mary in the chair beside him. “Like on the couch?” Mid-deed?

“Ugh, I wish.” Mary quickly shakes her head, as a quick disgusted look passes her face. “Not like I wish, just like…. I come home, and they’re not even doing anything. They’re asleep on the couch, just wrapped up in each other’s arms and happy and comfy and….” She sighs.

Luke drums his hands on the keyboard. “And you want that?”

Mary slumps into her chair and lets her head roll onto her shoulder. The lights paint her softer, or maybe it’s the open vulnerability now that she doesn’t have to be the perky sidekick she usually is. It’s actually one of the good things about working with Luke; he doesn’t expect her to be happy, perfect Mary.

“I want something. We spend all day living our normal lives, then rushing away to help save Gotham, and it’s totally worth it. It is. But before, when the work was done, I went home to my best friend in the world.” Mary glances up at the monitors where the two dots tracking Ryan and Sophie rush across the Gotham map. “Now she has someone else. And no offense to you, but we’re not exactly swapping secrets and having sweet potato pancakes.”

Mary does love Sophie and Ryan. She loves that Sophie is moving forward after losing Kate, and she loves that Ryan has someone other than Angelique to care about. But Mary has also spent so much of her life begging people to care about her. It’s hard not to feel like this is Kate and Beth and her dad all over again. She’s getting really tired of being replaced.

Luke clears his throat. He even sits up straighter in his chair when he turns it. The monitors behind him almost make him look like an angel. Or whatever.

He says, “I can’t make sweet potato pancakes,” like it’s an apology, or maybe a concession from someone else who knows what it’s like to be the odd one out. “But I do make a mean crab cake. If you’re in the market for more friends.”

Mary can work with that. But at the risk of this feeling entirely too sentimental for a mid-mission chat, she adds, “Fine, but no cuddling on the couch.”

Luke smiles. “You wish.”

.

.

Who initiates holding hands more often?

Ryan cannot get enough of Sophie’s hands. She’s constantly reaching out during team meetings, or across the bar at The Hold Up. She believes in the reassuring squeeze. At the same time, Sophie’s the one who actually initiates the hand holding and interlocking fingers. She claims it’s her way of keeping track of Ryan, reminding her that “you’re stuck with me, and you trust me.”

“There are other ways to show that, Sophie,” Ryan taunts. Sophie uses their linked hands to tug Ryan over to her.

“Show me?”

.

.

Who remembers anniversaries?

Ryan smiles up at Sophie on the couch. 

“Aww, babe, three years ago, you arrested me for the first time.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “That’s the anniversary you remember?”

Ryan laughs. “It truly changed my life.”

“Okay, well, remember that when you want an anniversary present in three weeks—”

“Four,” Ryan corrects. “Three weeks is when the date should’ve happened, but you got a flat, then Black Mask attacked—”

Sophie nods, “Right, and we didn’t actually go out until after he was in holding. I stand corrected.”

Ryan preens until Sophie pushes her away.

.

.

Who is more possessive?

Ryan used to think she was possessive. She would do anything to keep the people she loves by her side. But then Kate Kane comes back into their lives, and suddenly Ryan’s on the verge of losing everything that she’s built for herself. She keeps jumping between being incredibly self-sacrificing and hoarding away her minutes with the rest of the team like Kate’s coming to snatch them away.

One particular night, Ryan drops down onto Sophie’s fire escape in the suit. Her feet barely hit the level before she spots Kate inside Sophie’s apartment. 

Sans jacket, Kate’s tattooed arms look great in the moonlight. Her everything looks great. Ryan can’t see everything, but she can see the playful smirk on Kate’s face as she crosses the living room. Sophie’s not visible, which means she must already be in the bedroom. Is she waiting for Kate? Is she --

Ryan stumbles back. Sophie wouldn’t cheat on her. Ryan knows that, but if there was ever a reason to break up, it’s definitely the love of Sophie’s life wanting to start over again. And who is Ryan to stand in the way of that?

So, Ryan grinds her teeth and jumps back off of the balcony.

 .

She gets halfway back to Wayne Tower before the comms buzz in her ear. She pauses on top of a random roof to answer the incoming call.

“Ryan, get back here.”

Of course Sophie saw her. The grappling hook isn’t exactly the quietest way to move either. Though, Sophie had certainly taken her time to reach out.

Ryan lets a bit of bitterness slip out. “Your plans with Kate fall through?”

“I don’t have plans with Kate,” Sophie says. She sounds tired and frustrated, like whatever conversation she’d had probably took a lot out of her. Or maybe just reuniting with her one true love did that. Who’s Ryan to know?

“Sure looked like it to me.”

“And if you’d looked any longer, you would’ve seen her grab her things and go. I don’t want to do this over comms, Ryan.”

“What, break up with me?”

“Why would you even —” Sophie sucks in a deep breath. “Kate was here to clear the air. She wanted to know if there was a chance that we could try again.”

Ryan needs to sit down. She needs to lean against something. Her eyes dart across the roof, but there’s nothing up here but spider webs and deflated balloons. 

“Oh.” Ryan circles her jaw to try and stop herself from crying. She’s not going to cry over Sophie. She should’ve known better than to ever think that Kate Kane’s ex would choose her over—

“I told her no.”

What? The air rushes out of Ryan’s lungs.

Sophie repeats herself. “I told her no. Now can you please get back here before I have to drive all the way over to wherever the hell you are?”

“It’s faster by roof.”

“Give me the grappling hook, and I’ll try it out.”

Ryan clicks her tongue. “Can’t do it, that’s mine.”

“And you’re mine, Ryan. Nobody’s changing that, okay? Trust me.”

Ryan glances over at the long way back to Sophie’s place. The trek across the city that they help keep safe. “I do.”

.

.

Who gets more jealous?

Sophie really wishes she weren’t this jealous. She’s not super familiar with the feeling. With Tyler, her emotions never went this high. With Kate, there either wasn’t competition, or well, the guilt of how things went overshadowed everything else. But with Ryan — hot, flirty bartender Ryan — the opportunities for jealousy keep building.

It doesn’t help that Imani shows up from time to time for different fundraiser events. Sophie watches Imani and Ryan from across The Hold Up. Her eyes narrow, and she zones out of her conversation with Mary so completely that the young medical professional ends up waving her hand in front of Sophie’s face.

Mary steps over to block Sophie’s view of them. “You do know Imani’s not a threat, right?”

Sophie nods. She taps on the side of her head. “Up here, yes. But in here….” She rubs her hand over her heart.

“Ryan’s so into you, and you know that. Any jealousy is completely ridiculous,” Mary says.

Sophie nods. Again. “I’m gonna go over there.” She knocks back the drink in her hand and hands it to Mary, who mostly just clinks that cup with her own.

Mary mumbles to herself, “’Gee, Mary, thanks for being such a great friend. Let’s keep talking together instead of rushing over like a jealous lunatic.’” Her face perks up as she plays herself. “Of course, Sophie, so glad you’re being super reasonable. Love you too.”

By the time Mary finishes her own drink, Sophie’s leading a very amused Ryan up the stairs towards the loft. Mary sighs. She really may have to move out soon.

.

.

Who is more protective?

This one’s a tie. Ryan tries to protect Sophie by sidelining Sophie on the Bat Team. But Sophie is used to being in the field, or at least calling the shots. She doesn’t do well in the Bat Cave where she can’t physically assist. That back and forth goes on for months, but it comes to a head when Ryan needs to get on a plane again to try and catch their latest bad guy of the week.

Sophie hates the idea. She refuses to let Ryan go alone, and the more that Ryan tries to fight it, the more emotional Sophie gets. Ryan assumes that Sophie’s upset because the last private Kane plane ended with Kate in Black Mask’s clutches. But Ryan’s not about to go missing. She doesn’t have enemies like that, and most importantly, as Ryan yells, “Sophie, stop treating me like this! I’m not Kate.” 

Sophie sputters before rasping out, “I know that. But the last time you flew, Ryan, you almost died too. In my arms, mind you. Forgive me for not wanting a repeat of that.”

.

.

Who is more likely to cheat?

No one’s cheating, but Ryan does have a particularly handsy customer who tries to kiss her once. 

.

.

Who dislikes PDA the most?

Sophie’s still getting used to the idea of actually having PDA with a woman, but she’s coming around.

.

.

Who kills the spider?

Both of them, but Sophie does it more often. Mostly because she doesn’t want to hear Ryan taunting her that “Sophie freaking Moore can’t handle a spider?”

.

.

Who asks the other to marry them?

Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary says, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

The question makes Ryan stumble on her landing, and Sophie crashes into her since they didn’t exactly space out on the wire as they slid from one secret warehouse to another.

Sophie catches her footing first and says, “I’m sorry, what?”

Back in the Bat Cave, Mary ignores the glare that Luke gives her. She leans closer to the mic. “Hypothetically. If you two get married, it’d be a really small ceremony. We’re not inviting Alice. And Jordan will probably be Sophie’s Maid of Honor, so I just wanted to make sure that I get to be Ryan’s.”

Luke huffs. “Then why did you ask a question if you’re calling dibs?”

Mary turns to face him. “Because you can’t call dibs. It has to be her choice.”

“But you’re leading her to pick you. It’s not fair. You were already roommates—”

“Which is exactly why it should be me—”

“But we had to work on our relationship. The growth that we had is just—”

“But you had to work on it! We clicked immediately!”

“You click with everyone!”

“I do not!”

“You do—”

Sophie and Ryan yell into the comms, “GUYS!” Mary and Luke freeze.

Ryan chances a glance at Sophie, who has not actually moved since their friends started this conversation. They’ve been together for nearly two years at this point, and honestly, they’ve both been avoiding having to talk about this. Neither of them have their moms — for very different reasons — and Sophie’s already got one failed marriage under her utility belt.

Sophie readjusts the cowl on her super suit. “Could you wait until after we’re engaged to plan a wedding?”

Ryan does a double take. “After we’re what now?”

Sophie freezes. “Well, I just mean — if things keep going well, because they’ve been going really, really well…?” The damn cowl blocks off most of her face, but Ryan knows Sophie well enough to know that her eyebrows are halfway to her hairline. That higher lilt in Sophie’s voice means she’s reaching, and nervous. Ryan’s thankful that her own mask can cover the way her eyebrows drop as her nose scrunches up. Ryan is not about to cry on this roof.

Ryan goes for the joke. Makes her voice as teasing as she can handle. “Aww, you wanna marry me?”

Sophie crosses the few steps between them to take Ryan’s hand. “Are you asking?”

Ryan interlocks their fingers. “Not officially. Luke hasn’t made a Bata-ring yet.”

Everyone groans. The deep one from Luke is enough to get Sophie to smile, and it finally breaks some of the tension in the air. Ryan brings their linked hands to her lips and kisses them. She makes sure that Sophie’s focused on her before mouthing, Marry me.

Sophie leans in to kiss her, and they both get carried away. Lost in this moment of possibility before —

“Um, guys?” It’s Luke. “Are you working or making out?”

Ryan pulls back from the kiss and says, “Just for that, Mary, you’re Maid of Honor.”

“Ha!”

.

.

Who buys the other flowers or gifts?

It’s a trade off. Ryan loves bringing back little things from missions. Sophie is the reigning gift champion though. A few weeks after she joins the team, Sophie shows up at the loft with a plant for Ryan.

“It’s no desert rose, but well, Mary said how much you loved taking care of your old one.” Sophie holds it out for Ryan to take, but Ryan just keeps staring at her. Sophie shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She cringes inwardly. She’s probably tipping her hand too much by doing this. She can’t just show up at a cute girl’s place in her casual clothes and give her a plant. It’s… well, very gay, and probably invasive, given the fact that the last plant Ryan cared for was literally the thing to bring Ryan back to life.

Sophie groans. “Please don’t make me take it back.”

“No! You don’t have to.” Ryan reaches out with both hands to take the plant. She curls it to her chest, hugging it close. She stares down at it for a bit, and when she does look back up, a teary rim frames her eyes. “Thank you.”

.

.

Who would bring up possibly having kids?

Ryan really wants to be a mom one day. She’s fine not doing it now. But one day, she wants to do for someone else what her mom did for her.

Sophie gets weird about the idea once Ryan brings it up. Like, ducking out of rooms and coming up with all kinds of excuses as to why she can’t go on missions for a week. She even stays at Jordan’s place for a few nights.

Ryan has to go to Jordan’s apartment just to talk to Sophie alone. She barrels straight into the little two bedroom and plants herself next to the kitchen island. Sophie closes the door behind Ryan, but doesn’t step any closer to her fiance. 

Ryan says, “I get it. If Batwoman can’t have a girlfriend, then she sure as hell can’t have a kid. But—”

Sophie cuts her off, “It’s not about Batwoman. It’s about me.”

“Oh.” Does Sophie not want kids?

“Before I came out, the thought of having kids and a family, it all felt so… not me. I told Tyler that I didn’t want kids, that I thought having kids in a city like Gotham was irresponsible and not something I would ever want to do.”

Ryan leans back into the island. Closes her eyes and tries to let the cool feel of the granite calm the pain of those words.

Sophie wrings her hands together. “But I honestly didn't want to do any of that, with a man. And you're right. It's completely irresponsible for Batwoman to have a kid. But maybe… maybe Ryan and Sophie Wilder-Moore could consider it. If we can help clean up a city, we can probably raise a pretty cool kid.”

.

.

Who is more nervous to meet the parents?

Sophie is literally shaking when they meet up with Diane Moore for the first time. 

Thanks to Jordan, Ryan technically met Diane the week before. Ryan and Jordan were hanging out when Diane FaceTimed Jordan. Once Diane saw Ryan in the background, Jordan casually said, “That’s Ryan, Sophie’s girlfriend.” Then Diane’s entire face caught on fire, and she made an excuse to hang up. Fast forward five days, and Diane called Sophie to say she was “stopping by” for brunch. Reservations were made for four, and now Sophie is going to vibrate into another dimension from shaking so much.

Jordan and Ryan split a sympathetic look outside of Grits and Bear It, one of the best brunch places in Gotham.

Jordan tries to help. She says, “Just don’t mention the ex-con thing, and you’ll be fine.”

Sophie groans. Ryan steps up to Sophie and slips her arms around Sophie’s waist. “Babe, chill. I am a successful manager of a great bar—”

“A gay bar,” Sophie corrects.

Jordan winces. “Don’t mention that part either. Or Batwoman.”

Both Sophie and Ryan freeze. Sophie turns wide eyes up at Jordan and asks, “Why would we…?”

Jordan looks back at them like they’re five. “Because all you do is talk about how Batwoman’s the one person doing anything to help Gotham. And Mom still won’t say her name without gagging in her mouth.”

Sophie drops her head back down on top of Ryan’s. With their height difference, she can press her forehead to the crown of Ryan’s head. Hide away from the world for a moment. Whisper, “We should run. Now. Before she sees us.”

Ryan kisses Sophie on the cheek. “Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

.

(It is.)

.

(But thankfully Jordan takes one for the team and brings up her graffiti to take some of Diane’s fire. Ryan’s able to get one of very few smiles when she reminds Diane that Jordan’s working at the youth center now. Saving lives and what not. Still, nothing is enough for Diane. Ryan holds Sophie’s hand under the table.)

.

(Sophie doesn’t relax until they’re back at her place. Until they showered away the tension and curled up on the couch with Sophie wrapped around Ryan and a cheesy action movie playing on the TV.

Sophie holds on a little too tight. Sits a little too stiff. And she sniffles during a chase scene, which is really the final straw.

Ryan has to tuck her head under Sophie’s chin to look up at her girlfriend. “It’s her loss, you know? I’m pretty damn amazing, and you? You’re Sophie freaking Moore, and anyone who chooses not to love you is making the worst mistake of their life.”

Sophie sniffles again. “What if she never comes around?”

“Then you still have me, and Jordan, and Mary and Luke. You can even have Alice if you’re that desperate for a high head count. But you don’t need her to be happy.” Ryan wiggles out of the hold to sit up on her own. “And whenever you start worrying about what your mom thinks, just remember what the great poets once said.”

Sophie’s eyes narrow, and Ryan does her best to keep a serious look on her face.

“‘All I need in this life of sin—’” Sophie shoves Ryan away from her, and Ryan uses all of her strength to pull Sophie into her arms and sing right into her face, “‘is me and my girlfriend.’ Come on, baby, you know it.”

Sophie sings back, “‘It’s me and my girlfriend.’”

“See.” Ryan pecks Sophie on the lips. “That simple. Trust me.”

Sophie says, “I always do.”)

.

.

.

.

a/n: if only it were actually that sample. but hey, we can hope, and we can keep trying, you know?

so, what'd you think? any other random questions y'all would like answered? any prompts?

#batwoman #ryan x sophie #wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #mine #batwoman fic #headcanon #ship meme #luke and mary are also here because I love them #luke fox #mary hamilton #luke fox x mary hamilton

[marvelsdc22]

Christmas Spirit

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good start to your Christmas week!! This one was requested and I didn’t completely do the whole request, but! I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless!! :)

Note: Y/N is the daughter of Santa Claus, no one knows, not even her girlfriend Tori, when the Christmas spirit starts to go down, what will Y/N do to help that?

Word Count: 1264

*I knew this seem strange but Christmas in a few weeks so why not get into the Christmas spirit?* would you do tori x reader where y/n is the daughter of Santa *family business and her friends don’t know* like she’s trying keep people *who are poor* Christmas spirit up by having volunteer at soup kitchen but fail. Tori feels sympathy and hates seeing the look of heartbreak on y/n and wants to help her gf Plus mistoe kiss *y/n tells her secret* @perfectartisanwerewolf​ 

This time of the year was your favorite, not just because of being able to go all out in decorating, but the fact you get to see your father do his job best, him in his suit and flying around in his sleigh, delivering all the presents to the good little girls and boys in the world… Did you mention your father was Santa Claus? The only thing that worried you was his cookie eating problem, which you and your mother scolded him for time and time again “They’re the ones that leave it out! I can’t help myself” he’d say every time you guys confronted him, which made you more worried since his health was starting to weigh him down, but this year you were determined to help him as much as you possibly could.

“Yes dad, Tori and I are doing okay” you told your father, him having called you to check up on you and you and Tori having been dating for a little over a year now, but this was the first Christmas you two would be living together “Are you okay? You sound sick” you said, noticing how he sounded a bit raspier than usual “I’m fine… The Christmas spirit is just a little low this year” Your father told you, making you frown as you opened up your tablet and pulled up the spirit-o-meter you had on it, seeing that the Christmas spirit was at an all time low this year “It’s probably because of the pandemic” you said, knowing that a lot of people were affected by it “I’ll see what I can do, okay? I have to go, Tori should be home soon, I love you” you said, smiling when he returned it before you hung up.

As you hung up, you heard the front door open and Tori’s muffled voice “Y/N, I’m home!” She called before pulling her mask off and putting it in her jacket pocket before she hung it up “In the kitchen!” You called, looking over when you heard her enter the kitchen “Whatcha making?” She asked, coming over to you and wrapping her arms around you from behind “Cookies” you said, stirring up the batter “You’re as bad as your dad” she teased, her having met your parents at the fourth of July party you guys had “Am not!” You screeched, looking at her and laughing at the look she gave you “Okay, maybe I do have a sweet tooth, sue me” you chuckled, going and spraying the pan.

After a bit, you had gotten so lost in thought, you didn’t hear Tori asking you questions “Sorry, what?” You asked, looking at her and seeing her furrow her brow “Are you okay?” She asked, going over to you as you put the cookies in the oven “I’m fine… Dad’s not feeling too well, I’m trying to think of what I can do to help” you said, her not knowing your father was Santa Claus… No one did “Well, we could bring them some soup?” Tori suggested, looking at you and you shook your head “I think my mother has that all handled” you chuckled, knowing your mother could be very motherly when it came to family being sick “Tomorrow I’m going to go volunteer at the soup kitchen, want to join me?” You asked, looking at her and wrapping your arms around her neck while hers wrapped around your waist “I wish I could, but I have work… I’ll drop by though” she promised, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips while you sighed, you’ll take what you can get.

The next day, you showed up at the soup kitchen in your very festive Christmas mask, going and speaking with someone, who got you set up at the cooking station… Which you failed at, so they moved you to the food line, you trying to make people a little more happy by be a little more cheery, but that didn’t work either and by the time Tori showed up, the sad look on your face was the worst she’s seen it, feeling bad for you, she came over to you and took your hand, tugging you over to the side.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tori asked, cupping your face gently and wiping some tears with her thumbs “I just wanted people to be happy this Christmas, I know having the pandemic sucks, but I just want people to be happy that they get to be with their loved ones and that they have so much going for them, even in this tough time” you cried, your voice muffled by the mask and Tori frowned under her mask before she pulled you to her, holding you as you cried and waited until you calmed down before she pulled back “Come on, lets go spread some holiday cheer” she said, nodding towards the line and you looked at her with wide eyes “But, you have work” you said, looking at her and knowing that her lunch break wasn’t that long.

Tori looked at you and gave you a smile, you able to tell from her eyes “I do, but making you happy is what’s important to me right now, so come on” she said, taking your hand and leading you over to the line, the two of you working together to make people happier and it worked, people laughed more and conversed with you more, on the quick break you took, you took the time to check the tablet once more, seeing the Christmas spirit going up again which made you extremely happy.

After a few hours, the two of you came back home and collapsed onto the couch after taking your masks off “I love you” you told her, looking at her with a smile “I love you too” she said, pressing a kiss to your nose, you sighing when your phone went off, but you got up and went to answer it “Hey dad, how are you?” You asked, walking around some as you talked to him, him telling you that he was feeling much better now that the Christmas spirit was back up “That’s great, I’m glad you’re feeling better… You and mom still coming for dinner tomorrow?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe to the laundry room and not noticing a certain plant hanging on the top of the frame “Good, we’ll see you then” you said, smiling some before you told him that you loved him and hung up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, looking at Tori who approached you with a smug smile and following where her finger was pointed just as she stepped under the mistletoe with you “Gotta follow the rules, you know” she said, giving you a smile which you couldn’t help but return before you pulled her into a kiss, you loved this woman and one day you’d tell her your family secret, and while today was not that day, you would enjoy it just the same, this Christmas was going to be one to remember.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates​ / @natasha-danvers​ / @youngandwildx7​ / @hopingforbarnes​ / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I have a few more for you for this Christmas, if you’d like to be tagged in anything, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Have a good day/night!!

Requests Open

#tori vega x reader #tori vega x fem!reader #tori vega x claus!reader #tori x reader #tori vega imagine #victorious x reader #victorious

[bluebellwriting]

Mom-Friend Looking For A Dad-Friend - Part 1

Summary: Saru x chubby!reader in which you are Sylvia Tilly’s older sister, (Y/N) Tilly. You are a therapist on the USS Discovery and the ship’s resident mom-friend. Your little sister thinks it’s about time her Starfleet parents finally hooked up. (Title is based off of my Hinge profile)

(Y/N)’s POV

You were settling into your office on the USS Discovery, situated just down the hall from the med bay. It was small but cozy and would only get cozier once you unpacked your plants and little trinkets from home. Once the doors were closed behind you, you set your box of mementos down and took a moment to take in the room. Making sure that the doors are closed, you take a moment to squeal and pump your fists in the air. It’s quite unprofessional for a lieutenant commander, but you’ve never had a whole office to yourself before. 

Apparently the ship’s former captain, Gabriel Lorca, never felt the need for counselors or therapists, which you thought was horrible and inconsiderate. But when your own captain, Captain Pike, announced that he was transferring temporarily to head the Discovery, he had requested you accompany him to be the ship’s temporary counselor. He didn’t go into much detail for “security reasons,” but he felt that the crew would benefit from your services and your motherly nature.

It also helped that your baby sister was an ensign on the ship.

Your little celebratory moment was ruined by the sound of your doors opening. You froze, imagining the captain or some high-ranking commander walking in on your moment of unprofessionalism. Honestly, this was not a reflection of your normally responsible self and as you turned slowly around, you were running through in your mind exactly how you would defend yourself. Until you saw the familiar red and wild hair of your sister. 

You run forward and envelop her in a hug, relishing the feel of a familiar body pressed against yours. You have been so worried for her while you were away on the Enterprise and she was off fighting a war. Not a day went by that you didn’t dread the idea of getting the message from your mother that she was gone. But now she’s here, safe and sound in your arms where you can protect her, like you always have. You were so wrapped up in fussing over your sister that you didn’t even notice the incredibly tall man watching you both fondly from the doorway until he cleared his throat.

“Oh! Oh right.” Sylvia steps to the side with her arm stretched, literally presenting the tallest and... cutest man you had ever seen. Immediately you were entranced by the ridges of his face and his eyes. Oh dear Lord those eyes. 

“Commander, this is my sister, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Commander Saru. He was my sponsor to the command program and was--”

“Previously acting Captain, yes. Captain Pike filled me in.” You step forward and extend your hand to him. You try really, really hard not to shiver when his fingers engulf your palm and hold it securely. You feel so small in front of him -- which is rare for you, your past boyfriends made it a point to constantly bring up your largeness -- but your hand fits perfectly in his like two puzzle pieces finding each other. It’s as thrilling as it is frightening.

“I’m Doctor (Y/N) Tilly. It’s very nice to meet you, Commander.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, as well, Doctor.” Oh he was such a gentleman. 

Saru’s POV

Saru was expecting another Sylvia Tilly, when said ensign insisted that he come meet her sister. And because he was so fond of the tenacious girl, he allowed her to all but pull him through the halls towards an office just off of the med bay.

“I just have a feeling that you two will really like each other,” she was telling him as they approached the doors. “She’s so kind and sweet. She was basically the mom I always wanted which was nice considering the mom we did have was--” As she rambled, Saru just nodded his head and mentally prepared himself to engage in some pleasantries and then a quick return to the bridge for a meeting with Captain Pike. He was honestly in a somewhat sour mood after having the captaincy stolen from him, even if he knew it was going to be temporary anyway. Hey, a Kelpien can dream.

What he was not expecting was the sight of quite literally the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But there she was, hugging her sister tightly and soundly in a very cramped office filled with boxes of plants and flowers. And when you took his hand and grinned up at him, he felt his heart soar and a tingling in his limbic system. He could stand in the glow of your smile for hours and so desperately wanted to know what a hug from you felt like. Probably like being home. He had to restrain his arm from reaching out for you after you had pulled away from the handshake. He was completely and utterly hooked on you.

Sylvia seemed to notice, because she shot him a devious grin at the sight of what he was now realizing was his own love sick smile. Really, you have to be more professional, he scolded. But you’re chatting happily away with your sister while unloading your plants, cradling each adorable pot like a mother carries her child. Alright, professionalism be damned, he knew he needed to be next to you every moment for the rest of your lives.

On Kaminar, Kelpien life expectancies were uncertain but undeniably short, which meant that when decisions about family, friends, children had to be instinctual. And while Saru knew that he was safe from that life, that he was far more secure than anyone from back home could have ever hoped for, he still felt those same instincts. He felt them for Michael and Captain Georgiou and Sylvia and now here you were, the sight of you creating a piercing, knowing feeling deep in his gut.

You struggled to hang one of your plants on the highest shelf behind your desk. Just as you were about to pull out your spinny chair and use it as a stool, Saru quickly made his way over so he could hover over you.

“May I?” He was genuinely nervous that you would say no and he’s not quite sure why. But this was important, this offering of help and for care. You gave him a toothy grin and carefully transferred the plant from your hands into his large, awaiting ones. 

“Thank you, Commander. This is my String of Hearts and she likes to be up high.” Saru didn’t bat an eye at the fondness you held for the plant, rather he was quite familiar with the love you felt for them.

“It’s really no trouble. I too have quite the collection back in my quarters.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they are mostly plants from my home world, although I have collected quite a few species from visits to other planets.”

“Maybe you could show my sister some time, Commander!” Sylvia’s voice, really it’s more like a yelp, interrupts you both. You were eyeing her strangely while Saru tried his best to signal her with his widened eyes, stop, please with a hint of what are you planning. Sylvia just grinned widely and devilishly at them both.

“If, um, you don’t mind Commander, I would be happy to have lunch with you sometime to discuss our plant babies,” you offered slowly, your voice soft and hopeful. Oh, oh, he definitely wanted to have lunch with you. Was today too soon? Probably. Okay, calm down Saru, she’s not going to disappear.

Third Person POV

Four Months Later

Sylvia was just absolutely ecstatic that her plan was working. When she had started getting closer to Saru during the way, started seeing his paternal nature and his unmeasured empathy towards others, her mind had immediately thought of her darling sister. How you were just as nurturing as him and cared about everyone, how you were so caught up with loving others that you very rarely had time to meet anyone who loved you just as deeply. How the only two boyfriends you had ever had were complete assholes who took your tenderness for granted and only gave you criticism for return. How you were so hesitant to fall in love again and how she was absolutely sure that Saru was made for you and vice versa. So as soon as you stepped onto the ship, Sylvia begged and bothered Saru to come welcome you until he finally agreed. And oh is he glad he agreed.

From that day on you and Saru became practically inseparable. Saru made it his mission to be near you every second possible and you found yourself quite taken with the impossibly sweet man. Which was unusual, you had built this thick wall around your heart after your last relationship ended. But Saru just wormed his way past your guard with his gentle smiles and thoughtfulness. You would spend every meal together, talking about your plants, your favorite books and music. He had even started teaching you some basics in some of the many languages he knew. You don’t know why, but knowing about his profound knowledge of languages made you fall even harder for him.

Everyone on the ship seemed to realize that you were made for each other, too. There were bets made about when you would get together, whispers about ships through the halls. The drama over when Discovery’s mom-friend and dad-friend would make it official was a welcomed respite from the stresses of their mission to find the Red Angel. 

But the turning point for you was one night when you were completely swamped with patient notes and analysis. You had just messaged Saru letting him know that you had to skip your dinner plans to finish your work. You were quite disappointed, you hadn’t missed a dinner with him in the four months of your friendship and you lived for your conversations with him. It was just so comfortable and he made you feel so heard. But tonight you were looking at a sad, late night meal in your quarters after you were exhausted from staring at PADDs all day. At least, you thought so, until your door opened mere minutes after you had messaged Saru. In walked this precious man, carrying your favorite soup and a cup of coffee on a tray, along with some tea and salad for himself. 

“Just because we can’t have dinner in the cafeteria, doesn’t mean we can’t have dinner together.” He gave you a shy look as he set the tray down in front of you and took a seat on the other side of your desk. Honestly your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. He was a dream, a lovely and beautiful dream.

“Saru I... Thank you.” You set your PADD down and decided that maybe a short break couldn’t hurt.

“You are most welcome, (Y/N). I couldn’t bear the thought of you not eating a proper meal.”

“Is this potato leak soup?” Saru nodded, pleased with himself.

The two of you ate silently for a while as you continued your work. Saru was quite content in watching you. It was quiet moments like this where he would take in everything he loved about you besides your mind and wit. The soft curl of your hair, the way your eyebrows creased as you read, or the bright (e/c) of your eyes. His eyes very slowly trail down, when you aren’t flashing the occasional smile at him, to take in his other favorite part about you. Saru -- and he gets incredibly embarrassed when he thinks of you like this because he is a gentleman through and through -- just really loves your body. In a totally not creepy way, he is obsessed with how small and soft you are compared to him. He still has dreams about the first time you hugged him and the feeling of his arms around your plush waist holding you close.

“All done,” you announce with a sigh. Saru snaps his eyes from where they were lingering on your collar bone back up to you. He throws on his most innocent smile, trying to pretend he wasn’t just fantasizing about wrapping his body around your own. 

“Thank you again. I’m sure this is not how you wanted to spend your evening, sitting in silence while I just work away.”

“Nonesense.” He pauses, debating his next words. “Any time spent with you is time well spent.” 

You bite your tongue for a moment, wondering if you should let slip the words you so desperately wanted to bestow upon him. Would he think you’re being too forward? Would he think you were flirting with him? I mean, you did want to flirt with him, and hug him and kiss him and rub your hands down his-- woah, calm down, (Y/N), he’s right there. 

“Still,” you start, deciding to take a big risk. “It was incredibly sweet of you. I’ve never had anyone bring me dinner before.” Saru beams and fills his heart swell at the praise, but his joy stalls at that one offhand comment.

“Never?” Honestly, he was curious. You had never mentioned past relationships before and he was secretly dying to know if he was even someone you would consider for a romantic relationship.

You take a deep breath, “I mean, I’ve only ever had two boyfriends in the past and neither were that... thoughtful. Well, at first they were. But over time they both ended up being a bit too self-centered, a bit too critical.” 

Saru feels like his cup is about to break in his grip. How could anyone be so cruel to you, so unappreciative, so blind? 

You bow your head, worried you might have divulged too much but Saru leans forward and takes one of your hands into his. His thumb rubs your knuckles and immediately your past relationships and the sad memories they dredge up vanish. As if there was no one before him, as if there was always just Saru.

“If you don’t mind me being so forward, it is their loss. (Y/N), you are a wonder, anyone who cannot see that or appreciate that is a fool and does not deserve you.” He’s staring at you incredibly intensely, his lovely eyes trying to convey all the adoration he feels for you, his desire to see you cared for as you deserve.

Your eyes shine and you don’t even think. You just stand and round your desk, engulfing Saru in a hug before he can rise to meet you or he can see the tears in your eyes. Your body folds perfectly into his as his arms wrap securely around your waist. In this position your heads are level, and he uses this opportunity to slightly nestle his head against your neck and shoulder. He hopes he’s being inconspicuous. He also hopes you’re getting the message, that he is absolutely smitten with you. 

#saru #saru x reader #x chubby reader #x chubby!reader #star trek discovery #they say write the stories you want to see

[jessicajonesrp]

Family reunion

Jessica, texting Luke: who the hell let a Phillip Jones in the building

Jessica: if it’s Trish she’s way more fucking blonde than I thought

 Luke texting back: Que? What the heck are you talking about woman and since when did I become your doorman?

Jessica: PHILLIP JONES FUCK HELLOOOO

 Luke not having a clue what’s going on just calls her.

 “What are you talking about, am I suppose to know this person?? Seriously how am I supposed to know what the hell you’re talking about Jessica?”

 Jessica is talking very rapidly, her breaths shallow as she answers, pacing back and forth.

 “My fucking brother, that’s who. The one dead 16 years now? Only not because he just left my office. Probably he did anyway, since I opened the window and jumped out of it after my whole fucking world imploded.”

 “Oh your brother….Ooohh your dead brother?? Now your insane rantings make sense now..Shit Jessica I’m at a lost of words right now..What are you going to do?”

 Jessica laughs, but it sounds far from humorous. “I don’t fucking know, I kinda just freaked out and bolted. It isn’t a ghost, and it was him, as soon as he said it I could tell it was. They said he was dead, why the fuck would they tell me that, and where the fuck has he been all this time?”

 “Wait backup, you jumped out your window? And why would someone lie about him being dead? I think I have as many questions as you do.“

  Jessica is still pacing the rooftop. “I mean, it was open already. The window. I dont know, but I’m definitely awake right? This is real? This isn’t….I don’t, another fucking hallucination thing?”

 “Well I don’t know baby, how about you go back and crazy thinking here..Talk to him! Make sure he’s not some crazy fanboy..Do your detective thing..Get his fingerprints and some DNA, if he’s telling the truth, he shouldn’t object to proving it. I’ll wrap up things here and come to your office..And if he’s a nut, let’s just be happy you didn’t work from home today.”

 “Whatever, you don’t have to,” Jessica muttered, exhaling. “I got it. I’ll go back and see if he’s still there. Hell, if he really is Phillip, he’s waited sixteen years to show himself, he can wait ten minutes for me.”

 “You sure? Cause twenty…thirty minutes top and I could be there..I’m mean if you got family out there I’d like to meet them.” Looking down at his desk at the pile of boring papers. “Honestly I could use the break, I’m sooooo damn bored! We should have stayed on our honeymoon longer.”

 Jessica huffed another breath, shaking her hair back from her face. “I’m stopping by the liquor store first, then I’ll go back. I mean…I guess it could be a trick, or some of my crazy head games with myself. But.. What if it isn’t? He looks like him. Like He would have looked.”

 “Come on Jessica if it is your brother do you really want his first impression of you as a person that jumped out her own office window and his second you’re drunk off your ass, Look I’ll bring home a bottle of the good stuff but go back a face him with your wits intact.”

8

It was a good point. Fuck it, why did Luke always have to talk logic when Jessica was ready to run away and shove aside anything that tried to stop her or make her feel?

 “Well, it wouldn’t be all that surprising to him, since his last impression of me before showing up on my doorstop was how I caused the accident that killed our parents because I wouldn’t let him have a fucking video game,” she muttered, and damn if her eyes aren’t getting a little wet.

 It’s something that she’s always harbored, and never voiced aloud before, that it is her belief that she is the reason that her family had died. She had been too selfish, too loud, too much of a bitch, she hadn’t shared with her little brother and had made her father angry, she was the reason he took his eyes off the road. If it wasn’t for her, it never would have happened, her family would still be alive.

 She had always pushed those beliefs far down; Dorothy certainly hadn’t encouraged her to talk about her family, and Trish had always been so tentative around the subject, not wanting to hurt or anger her, that it had become far too easy to blank out memories or feelings about them for someone already inclined to repress anything too painful. Now, the possibility was presenting itself that for all these years, she had actually had a little brother out there, orphaned because of her, needing her, maybe not knowing what had happened to her. Or had he? Had he known all along that his sister had been adopted by a celebrity, while he was left behind, and she was told that he was dead?

 “Fucking Dorothy,” Jessica muttered, more to herself than to Luke, because whatever had happened all these years to her brother, she was almost sure Dorothy Walker’s hand was somewhere in the mix. In response to Luke, she said begrudgingly, “Fine, I’m going back. I’ll show up sober, but no promises I’ll stay that way once I’m there.”

 Hanging up, she ran a shaking hand over her face, fighting to slow the escalation of her breathing. She manages to stave off enough anxiety to avoid a panic attack, even as memories flicker through her mind. Waking up at fifteen in the hospital bed, frightened, in pain, wanting nothing more than to see her parents’ face, only to overhear the angry voice of teenaged Trish, blurting out that all of her family is dead. Asking about funerals, about memorials or any sort of service she could take part in, only to be told that those had already taken place, that she had missed them all, and there was not so much gravestones for her to visit instead. Picturing her family cremated, as Dorothy had so blithely told her, decimated into pieces small enough that they would all together fit in a small box or vase.

 If Phillip was alive, then whose body had they cremated? Or was even that a lie? Were her parents still alive out there somewhere too?

 Hope mingled with dread as Jessica started jumping rooftops, making her way back to her office building’s. She swung herself back down inside the open window, unsure whether she was relieved or not when she saw immediately that the man who had introduced himself as her brother was still present inside, now sitting somewhat uncomfortably on her beaten couch.

 “I figured you had to come back some time,” he muttered, not acknowledging the fact that her rather nontraditional entrance through the window. After her exit out of it, perhaps he expected that she preferred using it to doors. “Even if you do run your own business, you’ve gotta touch base at office eventually.”

 Jessica didn’t move any closer towards him, even when he stood, angling his body to face hers. Leaning back against the window, as though prepared to make another hasty exit if needed, she crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him.

 “So you’re my brother,” she said flatly, eyes looking towards his forehead, rather than the hazel eyes that so closely matched her own. “Prove it.”

 “What do you want, my birth certificate, my DNA?” Phillip shrugged, sounding unsurprised. “I could get both or either. Mouth swabs can do the trick these days. But I’m guessing you’re wanting words. Well, let’s see, my middle name is Brian, after Dad, but I guess anyone could look that one up. Your middle name is Campbell, after Mom’s maiden name. I know anyone could look that one up too, but what they couldn’t look up is you used to hate it, because I would call you Campbell soup, to the point that you wouldn’t eat any kind of soup at all, even if it wasn’t actually Campbell brand.”

 Jessica’s eyes widened, and she tried to cover her shock by pressing her lips together in a thin line. Phillip wasn’t finished. He seemed to actually enjoy throwing some of the old, mostly forgotten information about her long ago history back towards her.

 “Hm, you used to watch Xena the Warrior Princess a lot, you wanted to dress like her for Halloween but Dad didn’t want you wearing the skimpy costume, so you were a ninja turtle instead. I think that was when you were maybe eleven? You lost a tooth when you were nine on the playground because you were trying to do a full flip on the monkey bars and bashed your mouth against a bar instead. I was crying, scared because of all the blood, but you didn’t even cry. You were just mad because Mom made us leave and wouldn’t let you try again.”

 Jessica couldn’t speak. She tried, but her throat was closed up, and she couldn’t seem to form words or thoughts. Everything Phillip was recounting was true, memories she hadn’t touched in nearly two decades, and as they flooded back vividly, she stood frozen between pain and hope.

 “Uh…oh, you had some troll dolls, and I hated them, because their eyes and those weird little jewels in their belly buttons glowed in the dark. So of course, you used to sneak them into my room and hide them in my bed or in a dresser drawer or something, just to make me scream. And of course, I did my part by waking you up when you were a teenager by burping or farting in your face, then running for my life.”

 Phillip chuckled slightly, then intensified the easy, laidback tone of his voice, taking a slow step forward. “Take the DNA test if you want, Jessica, but you have to know it’s me. Don’t you.”

 And she did. She knew before he said any of it, knew as soon as he identified himself aloud the first time. This was her brother. Her brother….alive.

 “You’re not dead,” she said aloud, her voice small and dry. “They said you were dead.”

 Phillip shrugged, one side of his mouth tipping up in a smirk, very similar to one Jessica’s own face often showed.

 “Guess news of my demise was greatly exaggerated then.” More seriously, he said, “Technically, I guess I did die, they had to shock me back a few times, or so I hear. But in the long run, I survived. And I’m here. I wanted to see you, Jessie. Once I could find you, and get to you….I wanted to see my sister.”

 Jessie. The name sounded different in his mouth than it did in Dorothy’s, or any of the other people who insisted on saying it and whom Jessica refused to accept it from. She had thought the only three people allowed to call her by her childhood name were long gone, and the privilege to do so gone with them. But this man, this person with her brother’s features on a grown man’s face, called her Jessie so easily and naturally, and it sounded right.

  In a few jerky steps Jessica came forward, putting her arms around Phillip in an awkward but intense embrace. They had been fifteen and ten the last time they saw each other, and their relationship ship been far from one that showed physical affection; any physical contact with each other generally involved pinching, slaps, and shoves. It felt strange and strained to touch someone so familiar and yet so unknown, but as Phillip put his arms around her in return, with almost equal levels of awkwardness, his responding lack of ease only intensified her knowledge that he was the real deal.

 “Ease up, Jess,” he said lightly, flinching slightly. “Not all of us have super strength.”

 When Jessica jerked back, eyeing him, he shrugged at her. “What, how else do you think I found you? You were on the news constantly after that mind control guy, and everyone going crazy trying to kill each other. And then Dowling Investigations ads, it might be Trish Walker’s face, but she says your name and your title, and everyone in the world with any sort of TV or radio access knows you’re her adopted sister. Yeah, there are like, a million Jessica Joneses, and I didn’t know if you’d stay in New York or not earlier, but once the mind control guy happened, and Trish talking about you on her show, it wasn’t that hard to find you. I just…kind of took a while to get up the balls to actually go to you.”

 He shrugged again, giving her a somewhat self conscious smile. “I guess now that we’re here, we have to get to know each other all over again. We’ve kind of spent more time living apart than together, you know? A lot can happen in sixteen years.”

 He was right on that. And truthfully, Jessica had no idea where to start, so she focused back on him.

 “So if you weren’t dead all this time…where have you been? What the hell happened?”

#Jessica Jones #jessica jones roleplay #Luke Cage #luke cage roleplay

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 5

Missed Gestures

It was a picture perfect day by Ron’s standards. He’d returned to the flat and made breakfast for them as Hermione still slept. They’d gotten ready and went out to explore the area. He showed her the walking trail on the park he’d taken that morning, and then they’d made their way to the street Hermione had found the cafe on the previous day. There were several shops that lined the road, and they took their time walking through each one that interested them. Hermione bought a few cat toys for Crookshanks in one of the touristy pet stores they’d found, and they walked further down where they turned onto a bustling street. 

They stumbled across the Melbourne Museum, and Hermione looked at Ron with excitement that he couldn’t remember seeing on her face in a long time. He nodded to her, indicating they should go in. So they paid their fees and entered the museum. Ron couldn’t deny how incredible it was to walk into the various exhibit halls, watching Hermione examine every exhibit, artifact and portrait, skimming the descriptions and learning the history behind them. 

Three hours later, Ron’s stomach grumbled rather loudly, though they’d only gotten through about half the rooms. Hermione checked her watch and looked at Ron, “We should probably go and get some lunch.”

“Are you sure? I know you wanted to see everything here,” Ron said.

“We can always come back, can’t we? Plus, I wanted to check out that bookstore we passed.”

“That’s true. Why don’t we go back to that cafe you got breakfast from yesterday, and then you can check out the bookstore.”

“That sounds good to me,” Hermione said with a smile as they made their way to the exit. 

The sun was warm on their faces as they walked back and stopped at the cafe. They ordered their sandwiches and sat outside at one of the tables while they waited for their food to be ready. 

“So, how much are you planning on telling your parents tonight?” Ron knew he needed to start the conversation. 

“I feel like I owe them everything,” Hermione said. “What do you think?”

“They’re not my parents, Hermione. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re right.” Ron agreed. “I know it’ll be hard, but maybe if we made a plan, you’d feel better about going through the story.”

Hermione nodded slowly as the server came out with their meals. They smiled politely and said thank you as Ron waited for Hermione to respond. “That’s a good idea, actually. They know about Cedric’s death and what happened to Harry at the end of fourth year. I think that’s why they let me go with your family to Grimmauld Place for the majority of the summer. They assumed it’d be safer for me there if Voldemort did try and make his move.”

“What about fifth year? The Department of Mysteries?” Ron continued.

“I wanted to write to them about how evil Umbridge was, but knew I couldn’t when we found out she was checking our mail. I gave them a brief idea of everything that had happened, and then with your Dad being attacked, and they were the ones who told me to go to you. They drove me to London and dropped me off. I was finally able to tell them about everything that summer, but when I talked about the Department of Mysteries, I only made it sound like the Order was there fighting when I explained Sirius’ death. They don’t know we were there…”

“Okay, so you start there and clear that up,” Ron said. “Sixth year?”

“Well, they knew about your poisoning and Dumbledore’s death, so I guess there’s nothing there really aside from the horcruxes, but that ties into this past year more than anything.”

Ron nodded. Not that the whole Lavender debacle related to the story, but he was relieved Hermione didn’t mention it. Even if he was sure her parents knew all about it. “So then, it’ll basically be from the point where you altered their memories to now.”

“Yes. I suppose we should explain the mission and what we were after..” Hermione was thinking.

“Should we start with the attack on Bill and Fleur’s wedding?” Ron asked between bites of his sandwich.

Hermione played with her soup. “Yes, probably, and explain how we got to Grimmauld Place and gathered the first lead. We’ll probably need to explain the Ministry break in, and the disaster of the Godric’s Hollow trip.” She looked up at him. “I won’t tell them that you left. They don’t need to know that.”

Ron felt the tightness release ever so slightly, knowing that she didn’t want to tell them of his abandon. “Er, thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“It wasn’t you. I know that deep down,” Hermione admitted.

Ron looked at her gratefully. He wanted to talk about that, but it was a conversation for another day. “So then I suppose that brings us to the Lovegood visit and, er..”

“Malfoy Manor,” Hermione finished.

“How much are you going to say?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. They’ll need to know about the Cruciatus, and..and what Bellatrix was after to have done what she did.” Hermione couldn’t look at Ron. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. This was something even they hadn’t breached. He knew she thought they’d stolen the sword, but Hermione hadn’t been ready to talk about the experience beyond that, and he’d never pushed her. 

“I think it’s time I should. They deserve to know. You do as well.”

“Only if you want to, Hermione,” Ron reassured her.

“I will. I’ve made my decision. But I don’t want them to know about her offering me to Greyback, or how long the recovery took.”

“Noted. So then we go into Gringotts and the battle, yeah?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it seems as though it will be a quick story,” Hermione said with a chuckle.

“Think of it this way, we’ve got a plan now,” Ron said as they finished their meals. “I reckon you’ve got enough time to head to the bookstore for a bit before we have to get ready to head over to your parents.”

“You’re right. Do you want to just meet me back at the flat? I don’t want you to feel like you have to follow me around the store,” Hermione suggested.

“If that’s what you want to do. Just make sure you’re back by 3:30, or I’ll have to come find you,” Ron told her through a smirk as she nodded and they stood up from the table. 

He watched her go down the street before turning in the opposite direction to head towards the flat. He walked by a now open flower shop that had been closed that morning, and walked in. So far, the date she hadn’t known he’d taken her on had gone off well, but he wanted to get her something to make it seem like just a day out exploring the city. 

“Good day to you!” The florist greeted him. “What brings you in on this fine day?”

“Er, hello. I was just looking for some flowers, for, er, a friend,” Ron said awkwardly as he eyed the display of roses.

“Ah, well you’ve come to the right place! Is this friend a true friend, or more than?” he asked.

“Best friend, but hopefully ‘more than’ soon,” Ron said honestly.

“Ah, young love! Such a wonderful thing,” the florist said happily. He noticed Ron eyeing the various colored roses. “Roses would be a perfect choice for you. Did you know that the different colors have different meanings?”

Ron stared at the shopkeeper. “They do? Of course they do, nothing is ever an easy decision..” he muttered to himself.

“They do indeed. I can give you an explanation if that would help you to make your decision.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, red of course signifies love, and white represents innocence and loyalty, and some even say hope or a shared secret. The other two common colors are pink and yellow. Pink is another common color that represents admiration, grace or joy, and yellow stands for happiness, friendship and new beginnings.”

“What about these purple ones, here?” Ron asked him, taking in what he’d said.

“Oh, the purple ones typically stand for enchantment, mystery, and love at first sight.”

Ron nodded as he thought about the different colors and their meanings. He was thinking he wanted a mixture of the white, red, yellow and purple. But he liked the pink, too. All the colors really represented them. He just couldn’t decide.

The florist could sense his uncertainty. “You know, there’s a special rose color combination I can make for you if you think it would fit better. I take the yellow roses and add red tips. It signifies friendship deepening to love.”

That was it, Ron thought. “Could I take six of those, two purple, two pink, and two white to get a bouquet of a dozen?” Ron asked. His heart had started to skip a beat, as the excitement was starting to build.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. “Absolutely.” He plucked up six of the yellow, and two of each of his other requested colors. “I’ll be right back after I tip these yellow ones with red and arrange the bouquet for you.” He turned a few minutes later with the flowers wrapped in a beautiful bouquet. He’d even gone so far as to place them in a vase, that he’d boxed up for easier transport.

Ron gladly paid for the flowers. “Thank you so much for your help, today.”

“Of course! Of course! Helping customers like you is part of the reason I do what I do. I wish you the best.” The florist nodded as Ron thanked him again and headed for the door.

******************

Ron walked into the flat and set the flowers on the table. He’d decided he should get cleaned up a bit and change into something a bit more presentable for dinner with her parents. His nerves were building as he waited for her to return when she walked in a few minutes past 3:30. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry I’m late! It was only a few minutes!” she apologized as she walked in. Ron came out of the bedroom as Hermione set a rather large bag of books down. She noticed the flowers there. He’d meant to take them out of the box for her, but had forgotten.

“Ron, these are beautiful! Did you get them for my parents? What a brilliant idea!” Hermione gushed.

“Wha- Er, no, I- Hermione, they’re meant to be for-” Ron stuttered as he tried to explain.

“You’re so thoughtful! My parents are going to love them. Though, Mum is more a tulip person herself, but I’ve always loved roses. It’s probably a cliche but they’re my favorite.” Hermione bustled over and hugged him. “I’m going to go change for tonight, and then we can get going. You look really nice, by the way,” Hermione said shyly as she made her way to the bedroom.

Did that really just happen? Ron thought to himself. Did she really think the flowers were meant for her parents? Why couldn’t things just be easy for them? It was always one misunderstanding after another. And he’d tried to tell her they were for her, but she didn’t listen! Now what? He wondered as she came back out. 

She was dressed in a pretty coral colored sundress that she must have bought when she and Ginny had gone shopping a couple weeks ago. Her hair was tied back into a soft bun and it looked like she’d applied a small amount of makeup to her face. Merlin, she was beautiful. 

“Hermione, about the-” Ron tried to explain again.

“Ron, can we talk on the way? I don’t want to be late! Can you carry the flowers? I picked up a couple of books I thought my Mum would like when I was at the bookstore. I’m so nervous, I- What?” Hermione paused as she noticed Ron was staring at him.

“You, er- look really pretty,” Ron managed to say. 

Hermione blushed. “Oh, um, thank you,” she said as she kept herself busy by organizing the books. She put the few she had bought for her parents in the beaded bag. Hermione picked up the flowers and handed them to him. 

Ron tried to choke back the sigh as he followed her out the door. They were halfway to her parent’s house when he realized he should have just insisted they leave them there and go back to the florist for a different bouquet. Or that he should have gotten a second set to begin with.

“They’re a really unique set of colors you picked out,” Hermione said out of nowhere.

“Sorry?” Ron asked.

“The roses. The colorscape is quite unique. In a good way.”

Well, that’s a relief, since they were intended for you, he thought to himself. “Oh, well, I chose them based on the meaning behind their color.”

“Oh, yes, I’d heard that there were certain meanings associated with different colored roses. You’ll have to tell me what they are later.”

They were walking up the drive to her parents house now, so there was no time for it. Mrs. Granger answered the door before they could knock. She embraced her daughter happily when she opened the door and ushered them into the house. They walked into the kitchen when Hermione gestured for Ron to set the flowers on the counter.

“Mum, Ron picked these out at the local florist for you. Aren’t they lovely?” Hermione told her.

“Oh, yes darling, they’re...unique. Interesting color scheme,” she’d said. Mr. Granger had come in and gave Ron a look to which he returned with a defeated one of his own.

“Don’t worry, Mum, I told him you prefer tulips for next time, and that I’ve always been the one partial to roses.” 

“Ah, yes, I do love tulips. Hermione, dear, your father and I ordered Italian takeaway tonight. We thought you’d like to talk to us in a more private setting.”

“Oh, yes, that does sound perfect. Look, Mum I bought these books for you at the bookstore! I thought you might like them,” Hermione said enthusiastically.

“Thank you, dear! These must have just been released! How’d you know I’d want to read them!” Mrs. Granger said appreciatively. 

“Why don’t we go sit down in the living room?” Mr. Granger interrupted. “I don’t have to pick up the food for another half hour or so. Maybe Hermione can start a bit of her story before I have to leave.”

And so they all moved into the living room, where Hermione began telling them the truth about what happened between fifth and sixth year. She’d approached the point where she needed to tell them why she’d done what she had. 

“I know it wasn’t fair to alter your memories without your consent, but it was the only way. If you’d known, and they’d somehow managed to find you...I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. And I thought you’d have been happier not knowing you had a daughter if I...if I…” tears pooled in Hermione’s eyes as Ron moved to comfort her. 

But Mrs. Granger moved quickly to her side and put her arms around her daughter, stopping Ron in his efforts. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You are still here, and that’s what matters. We remember you, and you survived. Sweet girl, you’re still here,” Mrs. Granger pressed a hard kiss to her temple.

Mr. Granger checked his watch. “It’s about that time...Ron, would you like to join me while I go pick up the food?”

“Er, sure,” Ron said as he got up to follow Mr. Granger.

He got into the passenger seat of the car as Mr. Granger started it. “Try not to mind Jean too much. She’s a bit emotional over the whole ordeal. She’s not intentionally being cold or rude to you,” he’d said as he pulled out of the driveway onto the road.

“I didn’t notice anything. Besides, it’s understandable,” Ron said.

“Were the flowers really meant for us?” Mr. Granger asked.

“I got them for Hermione. She walked in from the bookstore and saw them there and assumed they were to bring with us. I tried to explain it to her, but she just carried on and didn’t stop to listen,” Ron admitted, the words pouring out of him before he could stop.

Mr. Granger let out a full hearted laugh. “That certainly sounds like Hermione alright. What do you say we stop at the florist and get a tulip arrangement for Jean? I know for a fact the florist doesn’t close until 6.”

“Really? That’d be fantastic. Not that I’ll know how to or when to tell Hermione the roses were for her.”

“I’ll help you work in an opening.” He pulled over in front of the shop as they went in to pick out a colorful array of tulips to bring back to Mrs. Granger. Ron paid for the second bouquet as the florist gave him a knowing smile, and they continued on to pick up dinner from the restaurant.

“So what did you two do today?” Mr. Granger asked Ron.

“It was actually quite busy.” Ron went into detail about their day, as Mr. Granger smiled at his efforts. They had to pause as they ran in to pick up and pay for the family style meal they’d ordered, and when they were on their way back to the house Mr. Granger picked up where they left off.

“Sounds like a perfect day for Hermione to me,” he’d told Ron. “Though, it sounds like you’ll have to be a bit more obvious. I wouldn’t fear the rejection so much. She very clearly cares about you, too.”

“I hope so.”

“Have faith, Ron.” Mr. Granger said as they pulled back into the driveway. Ron carried the flowers as Mr. Granger grabbed the food and re-entered the house. “We’re home, dear!” Mr. Granger called as they made their way back into the kitchen. 

“What’s this?” Mrs. Granger asked as Ron set the tulips down on the counter. 

“Ron wanted to get you tulips instead, Jean,” Mr. Granger explained for Ron.

“Oh! They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to, though,” Mrs. Granger said as her face finally softened toward him. Ron’s own felt hot as his ears tinged pink. Hermione had given him a confused look, but didn’t question it.

Dinner was a quiet affair compared to the Burrow. Hermione’s parents filled her in on their life in Australia and what they missed about England. They said they were excited to return home to England, and Hermione had assured them that she’d taken precautionary measures to keep their dental practice intact, and their home would still be waiting for them. Bill had offered to check the house to make sure there were no lingering traces of Dark magic. 

“We’ll probably have to wait until July or August to return,” they were explaining. Their lease on the condo wouldn’t be up until then, and it was close enough that it didn’t seem worth it to try and sublet.

Ron helped Mrs. Granger clear the plates and clean up before she prepared tea. She finally rejoined them and urged Hermione to continue the story. So Hermione and Ron took turns describing the events that happened from Bill and Fleur’s wedding until the battle. They’d skipped Malfoy Manor to start with.

“So he’s gone then?” Mr. Granger had asked.

“Yes. There are still some of his followers at large, but the Ministry is working hard to catch them all,” Ron explained.

“But what happened at Malfoy Manor?” Mrs. Granger wanted to know.

Hermione took a deep breath. “We were captured because Voldemort’s name was Taboo. The snatchers appeared and our wards were broken. They took us to Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix wanted to question me because of what she found in my bag.”

“What was-” Mrs. Granger started to ask.

“The sword. She lost it, Mum. Thought I’d stolen it out of her vault at Gringotts, which is why we knew to check there for another Horcrux. She ordered Ron and Harry to be taken to the dungeon in the cellar and then she dragged me by my hair to the center of the room. She used the Cruciatus on me to try and get information. I was being honest about the sword. I wasn’t there when Harry and Ron had found it. But she didn’t believe me and the pain kept coming. It was unbearable. I- I really thought that was going to be it. But I heard Ron calling for me, and- It was enough to help me hold on.

“I’m not sure what happened after a while. I think I must have lost consciousness. Apparently a chandelier fell on me, and I have this scar on my neck, but I don’t remember there ever being anything against my throat. I only remember waking up at Shell Cottage.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You’re so strong. So strong,” Mr. Granger had said. “How did you end up safe?” 

“Harry and Ron had somehow called Dobby, a little house elf. He helped free the other prisoners. He also dropped the chandelier as a distraction, he didn’t mean for it to land on me, I’m sure. But it was enough for Ron to get me out of there.” Hermione looked at him gratefully.

“But why didn’t this woman believe you about the sword?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“She was evil, Mum. She’s dead now. Mrs. Weasley got her in the battle at Hogwarts. She couldn’t understand that there was magic in the sword to allow it to appear to any worthy Gryffindor, and I wasn’t going to tell her that. She couldn’t know. I had to protect us.”

“But still, honey, why didn’t you know about the sword? You knew about everything else?”

“I was sleeping when Harry found it. It was lucky that Ron came back and found him. Otherwise, he would have been-” Hermione froze. She looked at Ron. She said she wasn’t going to say anything about him leaving, but she’d just…

“Hermione-” Ron started.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. She looked horrified.

“What do you mean Ron came back. Wasn’t he with you the whole time?” Mrs. Granger shot a look at him.

“He- He was. He got injured, Mum. The splinching. There was no-”

“It’s okay, Hermione.” Ron cut her off. He might as well own up to it. “Yes, Mrs. Granger. I left. It was the worst mistake of my life. We promised we’d see Harry through with this together, but I couldn’t take the Horcrux whispering to me anymore. Telling me I was useless and not needed or wanted. Harry and I got in a huge row, and I walked out. I’m not proud of it, and I did everything I could to get back to them. And I did, eventually.”

Mrs. Granger stared at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He hoped that Mr. Granger could at least understand. “Hermione, I think you should stay here tonight.”

“But, Mum-” Hermione tried to say.

“No, darling, it’s been eleven months since we’ve seen you. You’ve spent so much time away since you were eleven! At least give us this, stay with us! You have a place here.”

“But what about-”

Ron knew when he’d been defeated. He wasn’t going to win against Mrs. Granger, and he didn’t want to further the wedge between her and her parents. “I’ll be fine, Hermione. You stay.” Ron got up. “You know where to find me. I’ll stay for a couple days, but if you want me to leave, I’ll contact the ministry and arrange for travel back to England.” 

Nothing about this trip was turning out the way he was hoping. Maybe they weren’t meant to be after all.

“Ron, I-” But Hermione didn’t know what to say. 

“For the record, I’m not leaving you. Not this time. You know where to find me,” he said quietly. He promised her he’d never leave her again, and he wasn’t leaving her. Not really. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Ron turned and walked to the door, and headed back to the flat.

#romione #hp post war #hp australia #slow burn

[mafia-nct]

A Couple of Badass (Jaehyun Mafia AU) (Drabble Challenge)

#29 (How is my wife more badass than me?), #54 (They’re not your kids, back the fuck off!) with Jaehyun

Genre: mafia au!, angst, fluff

Warning: swearing, violence.

---

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, the grocery store was pretty empty. Meaning you could take your sweet time and not be rushed by anyone.

“Baby, can we buy mangoes?” Asked your husband holding four mangoes in his arms.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Your husband supervised brothels, dealt drugs, knew how to kill a man with his bare hands and had a gun on him at all times but he still asked if you could buy every item he presented you.

“Yes Jaehyun we can!”

His smile grew showing off his dimples. “Yes!”

You shook your head and took your phone out to look at your grocery list.

“Hey, honey!” You heard Jaehyun called again.

You lifted your head and saw him holding a cucumber. He pointed at the vegetable in his hand. “You’re a cute-cumber!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at loud. “Jaehyun that is the worst pun you’ve ever made!”

“I know, but it made you laugh it was worth it!”

“Yeah whatever, put your cucumber down, we are done with this section.”

“Yes ma’am!”

The both of you were making your way around the store when you heard two kids screaming. You figured the kids were just having a meltdown but something told you they weren’t, so you decided to go check it out.

You were happy you did, because when you arrived at the end of the row, where the noise came from, you saw two kids of your primary school class being dragged away by a man. You knew every parent of your students and this man was definitely not their father.

“Let me go!” Cried the little boy

“Stop” screamed the girl

You had to stop this. “Kaiden, Leah what are you doing here?”

The twins turned to you. Your intervention startled the man just enough for the twins to wiggle out of his grip and run to you. You crouched down and caught them in your arms.

“Ms. Y/N” cried Kaiden in your neck

“The man took us from mom.” Added Leah

“It’s fine,” you whispered “I got you now.”

The man walked towards you, clearly embarrassed. You got up and realized Jaehyun was beside you. You placed the twins behind you, protecting them from the man and Jaehyun got closer to hide them even more.

“Sorry about that,” started the man, “they don’t want to co-operate today. Don’t worry, they’re just having a meltdown. I’m their dad.”

You couldn’t believe the audacity of that man.

“You are not their dad. They’re not your kids, so back the fuck off!” you barked at him.

The man’s face dropped, he’d been caught. He backed up slowly before he started to run.

You looked at Jaehyun and he understood immediately. You stayed with the twins and Jaehyun ran after the man. He caught up to him in a matter of seconds and jumped on his back knocking a display of canned soup down.

“Get off of me you asshole!” Screamed the man.

Jaehyun turned him around. “You’re the asshole!” And he punched him, breaking his nose.

You left with the kids not wanting to traumatize them more.

The police came not longer after that. They took statements and left with the man in handcuffs. The twins’ mom cried the entire time and kept her children as close as possible. When the police left, she came to you and Jaehyun.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know what happened. One second they were standing beside me and the next they weren’t there anymore. What can I do to repay you? I’d never live with myself if something happened to them!”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m just glad we were at the right place at the right time.” you said

The mom took your hand in hers. “Thank you so much, seriously.”

“Ms Y/N is the best!” Exclaimed Leah

You laughed and gave the twins one last hug before they left with their mom.

You took a deep breath.

Jaehyun hugged you from behind. “How is my wife more badass than me?”

You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck as his rested on your hips. “I’m not that much of a badass. You ran after the guy, jumped on his back and fought him without getting a scratch!”

“Baby, you stood up to a man twice your size and I’m pretty sure that if he didn’t run away like a little bitch you would’ve fought him. So yeah, you’re a badass. My badass wife.”

You kissed him. “And you’re my badass husband.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn to kiss you. “We’re a couple of badass.”

“Yeah, a couple of badass” you smiled

#nct mafia au #NCT 127 #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct imagines #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun reaction #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines

[justjessame]

Sins of the Father: Chapter 5

The next time I woke up it was to voices that were doing a tremendous job of mimicking the worst case of stage whispering I’d ever had the misfortune of overhearing.  Groaning, and rolling over from where I’d had my face pressed into my pillow, clearly having tried to blind out the brightness of the sunlight - I once more found myself trying to blink open my heavy lidded eyes.  

“If the two of you are trying to NOT wake me,” I muttered, feeling slightly vindicated when the sounds ceased.  “You’re failing miserably.”  I managed to fight past the lead lining that my eyelids had grown overnight and the brilliance of the sunlight glowing through my curtains.  A couple more moments fighting against my bed linens and my own limbs and I’d managed to get myself sitting up against my headboard.  

Dad and Danny were watching me with rapt amusement, silent as they waited for me to situate myself.  “I came looking for you little brother,” Dad finally spoke, deeming me ready for information now that I had both eyes more or less open.  “And I was trying to convince him to go down and get breakfast -”

“But YOU promised that we’d spend the day together, Esme,” Danny butted in with the Roper spirit stubbornness.  I bit my lip when my gaze met Dad’s over his towhead.  “And that should include breakfast.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and I was struck by how like our father he was growing.  

Clearing my throat free of the cobwebs of sleep, I shook off a sigh.  “If you’ll give me time to dress and do something with what I can only imagine is a birds’ nest of curls, I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast and then we’ll start our day.” I countered, and Danny started to agree, but of course Dad had to remind me of my newest family chore.

“Esmeralda, I think you might have forgotten our guest -” His eyes narrowed and I knew he wanted me to take care of my duties alone, but honestly this hero of Danny’s hadn’t shown any likelihood of saying or asking anything untoward while we were alone.  Why would having the object that caused his convalescence in the room while I took care of him be problematic?  

“I haven’t,” I argued, my eyebrow arching to remind him that Danny was still very present.  “Danny can come along so I can show him how easy it is to change the bandages, in case I’m indisposed.”  Danny’s nose crinkled in distaste which shocked me, given how he felt about this man.

“You want me to come with you while you rip off his bloody stuff?”  I nodded and he shook his head.  “No thanks.  Couldn’t Jed do it?”  

“No, Jed can’t do it.” Dad told him.  “Who changes YOUR bandages when you rush headlong into madness?  Or Corky’s or Frisky’s or -”  Danny sighed.  “Esme knows what she’s doing, and so she’ll do it.  If you insist on spending the day with your sister, then -”

“Fine,” Danny’s excitement was draining at the idea of a full day of being with me now.  “Does it take long?”  

I chuckled.  “Not too long, but I will take him lunch as well.  And I make sure he eats it.”  Another long suffering sigh.  “Maybe for lunch you could do something else?”  

“What?”  He stared at me in a clear challenge.  I thought about it for a bit and then smiled.

“Pick a movie for us to go to tonight.”  His eyes widened.  “Just you and me.  And we’ll have dinner out as well.  How does that sound?”  

“Well the two of you and -”  I rolled my eyes and Danny laughed.  Dad would never allow us to go completely alone, but it didn’t matter.  I’d made my little brother happy again.  And that was all that mattered.  

Breakfast was followed by a day that most people wouldn’t think was all that special, but what Danny missed.  We spent part of it watching some of the shows he wanted to show me, and he promised me, while he watched me preparing the bandage portion of the tray for our guest, that he’d be looking for the BEST movie for our night out.  

“I know you will,” smiling down at him, I went back to adding the things I’d looked up online that would give some comfort to Mr. Quince’s ribs - at least that’s what the websites I’d found had assured me.  

“Will you dress up?”  I glanced up to see Danny studying me and waited to see where he was going with this new tangent.  “We never got to celebrate your graduation -” My stomach flipped at the thought of their celebration without me and what it had led to, but his mind wasn’t on that, it was on happier things - our night out.  “So you’ll dress up, won’t you?”  

Swallowing past the lump that had formed at the thought of what COULD have happened if Mr. Quince hadn’t stepped up and saved him from disaster, I hoped he wouldn’t notice my hands shaking as I kept adding my supplies to the tray.  “Of course I’ll dress up if you want me to.”  Anything he wanted me to do, I’d do.  He could celebrate my return, and I’d celebrate the fact that he wasn’t - no, I wouldn’t do that, focus on the here and now, Esme, I reminded myself.  You’re a Roper.  

Lunch wasn’t soup today.  And Mr. Quince didn’t try to argue against my aid in getting him sitting up, nor when I insisted on helping him with his meal.  We put off changing the bandages until after, since I’d done it just the day earlier and I couldn’t see any blood peaking out.  Taking my spot beside him on the bed, I started cutting up his food and he chuckled under his breath.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”  Not looking up, my lips were twitching at the corners as I fought against a grin.  

“I dare not,” he murmured, as I picked up the first bite and moved it toward his mouth.  “Lest you attempt the airplane in the hangar.”  My smile grew as his own flashed, before he took the food I offered him.  

Once his lunch was finished, I asked him if he’d rather I start with his face or his ribs and he looked startled.  

“I did some research and found that we had some salve on hand that might give you some relief along with a bit of wrapping, if you’d like?”  He gave a small nod and started to pull at his shirt, but I stopped him.  “Give me a moment to get everything ready, then I’ll help you again.”  Fussing a bit with the tray, I moved what I needed to where it would be within easier reach and then with his help, we got his shirt over his head and out of the way.  Pressing gently, I watched his face for signs of distress.  “You have to tell me which parts are the most tender -” he sighed and so did I.  “If you don’t, then the salve won’t be of much use.”  

Giving in wasn’t something he did willingly or simply, but he weighed the wisdom of what I was saying and finally pointed out the places that hurt the worst.  Picking up the pot of gooey medicine, I opened it and warned him that it wasn’t very pleasant smelling before sitting beside him again so I could reach him.  Coating my fingertips with the sticky substance, I leaned closer, and applied the cream in gentle circular motion over the darkened skin that even battered I could tell was corded with muscle.  

He tried to stay still and silent, but there were hisses and rippling across his abdomen that he couldn’t hide.  The warmth of his skin working with the salve, I hoped, to soothe the pain and discomfort he’d earned when he saved Danny.  Once I felt confident I’d gotten him covered, I put the container back on the tray and picked up the elastic wrap bandage and helped him lean forward again so I could wrap him up. 

“I read that this will help -” I told him what I’d learned during my online search and he listened while I wrapped my arms around him and worked, our bodies close enough so I could feel his breath flutter my hair.  “There,” I pulled back and smiled up at him, since we were still very close.  “Isn’t that better?”  

“It’s different,” he sounded conflicted, unsure.  Which was strange since we’d only known one another for a few hours and in such an odd context anyway.  “I - I should put my shirt back on.”  

“Right,” I blinked, confused about how I’d gotten off track for those few beats.  “Let me -” But we both reached for the white cotton at the same time and our hands linked, different from when he’d stopped me during my last visit, this felt intimate and - I pulled away as if I’d been burned.  “Sorry.  I - Do you need me to help?”

“I think I can manage,” we were still close, his breath fanning my face now and I had to swallow to try to fight a dryness that wasn’t there before.  “Does my other bandage need to be changed as well?”  

A glance down, which I’m sure made me look slightly cross-eyed, told me no - it could wait.  I shook my head.  “I think it’s fine for now.”  My eyes flickered back to his and found him waiting for me.  “I should go.”  

“I’m sure you have,” his gaze flickered down, was he looking at my lips?  “A great deal of plans now that you’re home.”  

Plans?  Did I?  Danny.  Right.  That pulled me free from the bed, the gaze, his warmth.  “Yes.  I do.”  He flinched, as if I’d slapped him.  How odd.  He pulled his shirt on as I stood up and started gathering the tray together.  “Danny and I are going to the movies tonight.”  When his head broke free of the fabric of his shirt, his gaze met mine and I bit my lip.  “Hot date with my little brother.”  

“That sounds fun,” he offered, less strained and more natural - but how would I know what was natural for this stranger?  “You seem close?”  

Ah, there it is, the questions.  “We are,” I agreed.  Anyone would tell him as much.  “I made him a promise when I went away to university.”  He waited, listening as if I were about to tell him a wondrous secret.  “If he didn’t throw tantrums or give Dad and everyone too much trouble while I was away, and during my breaks when I’d have to go back, then when I finished I’d come home forever.”  

“Forever’s a long time.”  My smile grew.  “He’s a good kid.”  

“Danny’s -” I sighed.  “Danny and I know each other better than anyone else in the world.  And that’s all that matters to me.”  

“He’s a lucky boy.”  

“I’m the lucky one.”  I gathered up the tray and bid him a good day.  And I could have swore that he said something about hoping that I really was the lucky one. 

#jonathan pine x oc #the night manager #slow burn #Richard Roper #eventual smut

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Family of Five- Part 3: Sick Day

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

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No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well

_____________________

The house is finally silent. Koha’s no longer shouting about needing his lunchbox, Harlowe’s not clicking against the tile floor with her heels, Pepper, Sissy and Jack their three dogs have been taken out, sprawled out across their favorite spots in the living room Jack and Sissy are the latest additions. Jack a german shepherd mix and Sissy is a Cocker Spaniel Corgi mix. They were a two for one deal, only in the sense that the pound warned them that the two had become extremely attached to each other. So much so that they could not go to separate foster homes. 

Calum can only blame himself for the dog additions. Koha had Pepper and they grew up together. So of course, Calum wanted Esha to grow up with a dog. So they went looking at the same local shelter from where they got Pepper from. That’s how they ran across Jack and Sissy. Esha was stoked to have a dog she could cuddle with. This of course meant that him and Harlowe were outnumbered, though the dogs did help when one of the kids is hurt in another room. They could run and get the attention of Calum or Harlowe to come to the rescue. Of course, the crying also indicated that. But the dogs loved the kids and they best was naptime when they Pepper lays down first, Koha and Esha curled up near each other and Jack and Sissy outlining them. Calum has too many photos of the same scene from multiple different times they curled up together. 

Esha whines a little from the couch; Calum walks over, running his palm over her forehead. Normally, she would be off to daycare. However, she had a fever last night and it hadn’t broken yet either. Calum usually drops Esha off, every morning at the same time, with the same kisses, pressed into both cheeks and a big hug. Harlowe’s job and Koha’s private school are in the same direction. Esha’s daycare is a bit of an offshoot, which Harlowe could easily do.  However, Esha prefers Calum to drive her. Calum loves it too, her dancing in her carseat, her singing along to the radio. His little baby girl always excited to show him something new that she learned. It’s time for just them. 

Though the house wasn’t too chaotic, Calum did feel like he was constantly running around. He was constantly moving, more things added to this To-Do List and never enough time just to enjoy the moment. The moments he has with Esha though on the fifteen minute drive are what keeps him going some days. He loves Harlowe, Koha, and the dogs. But there’s nothing quite like seeing Esha smile, even as he’s dropping her off in front of her preschool There’s the way her tiny hand takes his, and the way she grins, waving at all her friends still close to his side that makes all that chaos still; Calum feels at peace.

Right now though, his little slice of heaven is sick. Esha stirs from her half sleeping state at the feel of a hand on her face, groaning a little. “How you feeling, baby?” Cal asks softly. 

She shrugs. “Still hurt a little.”

He nods. “Okay, give it some more time before the meds kick in.” Her cup is empty thankfully. She drank all of her water. 

“Okay.”

He tucks the blanket higher up around her, stroking softly over her cheek and bonnet. “I’m sorry you’re sick, baby girl,” he whispers, watching her eyes flutter close. Jack walks over, jumps up onto the couch and settles down at her feet. Pepper keeps watch from the floor with Sissy. Calum scratches over their heads, happy to see them being gentle with her in her present state.

Calum washes the dishes from breakfast, squeezes in a quick work out and after his shower, wakes Esha again. She pushes up away from the pillow, a small ‘hmmph’ falling over her lips. She looks just like Harlowe waking up. The same squint and the matching satin bonnets. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to keep fluids in you.”

Esha takes the cup from her father’s hand, still blinking back sleep from her eyes. There’s no sass, no remark. God, he hates seeing his baby girl like this. Thankfully, she doesn’t get sick often. When she does, it’s like someone has pulled her plug. There’s no power, no life to her almost. She falls back into the cushion, sipping away at her cup. Calum stands, picking her up, before settling into the sofa with Esha in his lap. She snuggles into his chest, though he put her in light pj’s, he can feel the warmth seeping from her body. 

He’s already adjusted the AC some to help her stay cool. “Can we watch Moana?” she mumbles against him. 

“Of course sweetheart. We’ll start if after lunch, okay?”

Esha nods. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love up too, baby girl.” When she’s fast asleep, yet again, Calum brings the blanket back around her body. He can wait to fix her soup just a tad bit, not wanting to disturb her sleep too much. Softly, he hums a few songs to her sleeping body. 

Calum doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until the feelings of nails against his scalp stir him awake. Harlowe’s smiling down at him. “I came by just to see how see she’s holding up. And I’m come back to both of y’all passed out on the couch,” she chuckles.

Calum sighs. “Hadn’t intended to fall asleep.”

She kisses his forehead. “I’ll fix some soup and then be on my way.”

The sounds of Harlowe’s work around the kitchen sends a shiver down Calum’s spine. He rests his head into the cushions, listening to the soft sounds of metal pots and pans clinking against each other. Esha’s not so warm against him; he’s not sure if it’s just because he’s gotten used to her. Gingerly he places the back of his hand to her forehead. She’s not as warm. Readjusting her, he stands, holding his sick child to his chest. 

They’ll be leaving soon. It’s, of course, going to be tricky with the dogs and the house still here in California. Calum’s tempted to just keep the house since it’s paid for as a vacation home. They can retire here during the school breaks. Maybe they can rent it out through an agency so it’s not just sitting unoccupied all the time. Harlowe’s got a couple uni’s that are interested in her already, which is a good sign because she was worried about finding work. 

Calum watches Harlowe. She’s still in the heels from this morning. It’s a shock she makes this long anymore in the shoes. The heels are a good sign though. Today’s a good day so far. Bad days don’t see heels. Bad days don’t see skirts, or fancy blouses. Calum thinks part of her recovery and stability is linked to going back to work. She can’t help her students if she’s not thinking straight. She can’t enjoy the worlds they’re creating and she can’t help them shape those worlds if all she has is a fog on her shoulder. 

It was hard, before on the maternity leave for Harlowe. It was the same old same old. Day in and day out it was just her bedroom, just the kitchen, and occasionally the outdoors. She didn’t really have a goal, just a muddled sameness marked up rising and fallings of the sun. There was Koha and Esha and Calum for sure. But part of her had taken them for granted, that of course they would be there. She was a mother, she was a wife. These people were in her life for good. 

The thing is, life is fragile and it took realizing that her students wouldn’t be able to see her on campus to know that she couldn’t take anyone or anything for granted. Just because Calum was here now didn’t mean he would have to stick this out. Te Koha had already taken too much of her illness into his soul, she couldn’t crush her own child with her heaviness, with her burden. 

“Don’t you have a class to be teaching?” Cal asks. He remembers now that her schedule shouldn’t allow her to be here. He blames the post nap fog. 

“That was last semester, babe. I redid it so I start teaching at 9, go until 12. Break for lunch for an hour and some change. Then my last class ends goes from 2 to 3:30.”

“That’s right,” he hums, still trying to shake the sleep from him. Harlowe glances over her shoulder a smirk on her face. He knows what she’s thinking. “Don’t say it.”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“But you were thinking it. You’re always thinking it.”

“You just love her, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her face says it all though how tightly Esha has Calum wrapped around her tiny finger. It doesn’t matter though. As long as his baby girl knows how much he loves her, it doesn’t matter what Harlowe or anyone else things, or says, or doesn’t say. He’d go through Hell for her, and come back, only to go through it again if he had too. Nothing would stop him from taking care of his daughter. 

Pepper walks over, whining, pointing to the door. “I’ll take her,” Harlowe says, sliding out from in front of the stove. 

As he stirs the soup, Esha starts to wake, groaning. He sets her onto the counter. Calum’s still impressed that he can hold her with one arm. Esha’s getting bigger with every passing second. It scares him a little when he won’t be able to hold her like this anymore. When she’ll be too big and want nothing more than to run through the streets, just as wild as she’s bound to be. She holds onto the blanket, asking, “Chicken noodle soup?”

“Of course. It’s your favorite.”

“Can I have some water?”

Calum hums with a nod, opening the fridge. The back door opens and Esha smiles at up at her mom. “Hi, Momma.”

“Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

“Why you not at school?”

“Came by to see how you’re doing.” Harlowe presses a quick kiss to her forehead. Calum watches them. This is the Harlowe he knew was buried under her fog. This is the Harlowe Koha knew. The new meds seem to be helping. The idea of moving is still scary, but necessary. This place has run its course. Besides, Calum’s worried. New meds always work and then she stops taking them. He can’t do this alone, taking care of two kids, three dogs and his wife. He needs an extra pair of hands to help him out, especially when Harlowe slips. She doesn’t listen to just anybody. Her family’s no help. But Momma Joy has always managed to slip through her guard and keeps her on the right take. 

“Daddy can take care of me,” Esha retorts. 

“You’re definitely feeling better,” Harlowe laughs. “I know Papa Bear can. Momma’s just a worrier, you know.”

“Love you,” she whispers as her mom wraps her up in a hug. 

“Love you too. I’ve got a meeting, so I should probably get back soon.” Harlowe turns to Calum, sliding her hands around his waist. “Want me to pick something up for dinner?”

“I’ll cook. Don’t worry.”

With a nod, she slides away, but not before lightly patting his butt through the sweatpants. “Gross, Momma!” Esha huffs, noting the contact. 

“Do you call Papa Bear out like this?” Harlowe teases, waving as she exits the house. 

“Yes, I do!” the little girl calls to her mother’s back, laughing. These are his two girls, constantly teasing each other. 

Soup finally warmed, Esha sits at the table, taking small spoonfuls to her mouth. Her little legs dangle high above the floor. She crosses her eyes, sucking on a noddle in response to Calum’s face. He laughs, eyes closing, the skin around them crinkling too. Esha beams at the sound; she puffs out her chest a little. The laughter is because of her doing. 

“Do you want to take your hair down?” he asks, after calming from his laugh spell. 

“No.” 

Calum waits until she finishes all the bits of her soup, before they start racing to see who can drink the broth down the fastest. Esha winds up getting more on her pj’s than actually in her stomach. “Look at this mess,” Calum tsks, helping her down at of the chair. “Messy little one, aren’t you?”

“You were beating me. I had to win!”

He nods, waving her towards the stairs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Clearly winning involves dumping half the broth down your shirt.”

“Uh huh, it does.” He cleans her off, sliding her into clean pj’s. She climbs onto the sofa, while Calum cleans the dishes. She’s clutches the DVD cover for Moana, waiting. Calum’s not sure how she hasn’t grown sick of the movie yet. But she watches it with the same eager and awe as the first time she’s laid eyes on it. Calum pulls the plug on the drain, washing his hands off again. 

Esha climbs into his lap right at the start of the movie, she holds a juice pack in her hands, eyes glued to the screen. “You gotta do the singing parts, Daddy,” she states. 

“I know,” he nods, chuckling, “I know.” The singing parts also include the choreography too. During ‘You’re Welcome’, Esha joins her father, dancing around the living room. Both of them know it so well, they barely pay attention to the screen.

When Harlowe returns that afternoon with Koha, she can hear singing before she fully crosses the threshold. Her first guess is Moana, but the further they get into the house, it’s not. It’s Princess and the Frog. Calum’s dancing around during The Shadow Man’s man song. Koha drops his backpack in the foyer, running to join in. Normally, they would try to keep the kids separate if they’re sick. Clearly it is not going to work this time. 

Everyone settles in to finish the rest of the movie before Calum stands to start dinner. Esha watches from the bar counter, also scribbling over copy paper. Koha chats about his day, going over his homework with Harlowe. The house slowly fills with a white noise of sizzling, laughter and paws clicking. 

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood x black OC #dad!cal #dad!cal series #dad!calum #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

[marvelous-avengers]

coffee cake

summary: Late night baking. 

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

warnings: fluff and love, slight angst if you squint

a/n: after a very stressful weak, this was inspired by events that happened at home when my dad pulled out my grandma’s cooking stuff and i decided it would be nice if i had a super soldier to comfort me. enjoy it angels. (i should be sleeping or doing other things but i wrote this because i needed it.)

---

It’s late when he finds you in the kitchen.

A day of errands and naps, plus a late dinner of reheated soup has you tired and wired all at the same time. Achy body but itching hands.

Tools and ingredients scatter the kitchen island. Old fashioned tools and vintage recipes with faded edges, crisp and timed handwriting that spawns memories from younger years of wooden tables and benches, a white creaky oven door, smiles and wrinkled lips pressed to temples.

It stirs something in Steve’s chest as he leans against the doorway.

You’re oblivious to his soft gaze, you’re even softer, as he watches you measure out ingredients. Your hands are delicate yet deliberate–taking care while getting the job done. He’s almost mesmerized, watching you work through the kitchen in your t-shirt and sleep shorts.

It’s been a hard week for you. Between some family drama, trouble at work and moving in together, the stress leading up to everything made you physically ill and that was hard for him to see. Too many cooks in the kitchen, too many things to get rid of and so little time to move, to actually get anything done. 

So today had been spent in bed, then a couple errands, some soup and Nailed It! on Netflix filled the afternoon.

“Hi babe.”

Ah, he’s been caught.

He smiles gently, blue with specks of green and gold going even softer as he reaches you at the counter, lips pressing to your forehead. You’re mixing the paste-like mixture in the bowl and Steve takes in the rest of the pieces of the recipe and grabs a round container from the marble island.

“Sour cream? In cake?”

The edges of your lips turn up and there’s his happy girl. “Just wait.” His other hand goes to your back, fingers skimming underneath the edge of your shirt as he rubs the skin there. “Will you butter the pan, please?”

With a final squeeze to your skin, he does as he’s asked. You take the final cups of flour, the baking soda and sour cream and add them to your bowl, mixing until homogenous. You grab a jar of brown something crumbly and measure some out, mixing it with another bit of something and a dash of another something.

“My grandma used to make this cake only for special occasions,” you say as you gingerly start to layer the batter and other mixture into the prepared pan. “She made it for birthdays, primarily. She’d come over and this was our birthday cake. It’s special.”

The way you talk about her, so open and freely, so reverently, sparks a memory in the deep caverns of his mind. Gentle hands, worn from work and care, brushing back soft tufts of blond, mixing soup on the stove made from anything they could salvage, one more spoonful for himself than her. A delicate, beautiful smile on her face, always. Would you like some more, Steven? Have you had enough? A time when there was never always enough to go around, but children came first. They always came first, even if there was nothing. 

It sends an ache through his heart, to think of this, of memories and time long passed. How families who had nothing still gave and gave, still cared for their children and found ways to do so. He knows it’s ingrained in your soul, from mother and father to grandmother, who, like his own parents, came from a country seeking a better life, who came from nothing, but somehow gave their children everything that they could. 

It’s better now–the world is, at least–in some ways, with technology and agriculture. He thinks of the good things, of warm summer days and your neighbor’s children giggling and laughing, of you, pressed carefully in his arms, content and happy as you sleep. It warms his heart, soothes the dull icy chill forever present in a man out of time. 

He only wishes that the soft mother of his memories was able to see him today. Home. Loved. Happy. 

A few final taps of the pan against the counter and it slides easily into the warm oven. You set a timer on the microwave. He watches as you immediately start to clean up, gathering dirty dishes and utensils and putting sugar and flour and vanilla away. You take great care in washing the tools of your masterpiece, placing them carefully in the dishrack once they’re deemed clean. 

“She didn’t have much growing up, and neither did my dad, so they were always sure to try and give their children better lives than we had. They always gave us extra when we asked, offered more to us first even if they hadn’t finished.” Another metal and rounded measuring cup, one that looks familiar to him, is placed to dry. “They always took care of us first. And this cake was always our treat. It tied my whole family together.”

Family. The root of your love, your being and your soul. Your kindness, your selflessness, your loving and bold personality that he loves so much. Obviously it runs in the family. 

Part of him wants to offer to help, but the other part of him, the practiced and loving part, knows that this is yours. Your way to deal with the relieved stress, the anxious part of you that continues to worry after things are complete. Your family traditions, special memories, your heart and soul buried and bursting in your being.

So he lets you be. But once you dry your hands on the towel and the counter is wiped clean, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, pink lips pressing to the crown of your head. You sigh, winding your own around him and nestle safely into his embrace. Calloused hands rub up and down your back, and you squeeze him.

You pull away enough to gaze up at him, eyes cloudy and dazed, filled with emotion. He cups your face with one hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are closed when he pulls away again, and he releases a chuckle before he finally kisses your lips.

It’s so soft, so patient in the quiet of the kitchen, his thumb caressing your cheek as your lips move together. He tests the waters, the tip of his tongue slipping between yours, and your hands tighten on the back of his shirt. The hand on your waist tightens and as one of yours grasps onto longer strands of golden and sandy hair, you feel the counter against your back and Steve’s built body pressing against yours. You relish in the feeling, of the love and safety surrounding you–

Steve’s thumb grazes the underside of your breast and your back arches in response. He smiles and you only pull on his shirt, the urgency to have him closerclosercloser.

The kisses eventually slow and the timer shows an obscene amount of time spent wrapped up in each other. But neither of you mind. Besides, Steve likes to be selfish with you. Especially, like this.

Because it’s needed. In times of stress and destress, the sanctuary of tight arms and warm love is a welcome home. Home. Love.

When he pulls away, the blue of his eyes is blown out by the pupil and he’s flushed, beautifully so, spread across his cheeks to his ears. You smile and tug gently on his ear lobe, but Steve just kisses your wrist, lips swollen and plump and oh so delicious.

He kisses you right there, in the kitchen, until the timer runs out.

forever loves:

@sweetboybucky @evanstarff @barnesrogersvstheworld @tropicalcap @buckyofthemyscira @bucky-at-bedtime @kentuckybarnes @shurisneakers @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @buckysbeardliness anyone else i forgot but i love you all

#jess writes #coffee cake fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fi #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel

[flowerfan2]

Gray Skies - Ch. 6

This chapter’s a little longer - and satisfied my urge to write a New England in winter story for Steve and Danny.  Enjoy, and happy new year!

Living with depression doesn’t have to mean living without love.  An AU that branches off in Season 10.

McDanno, A03, 9k so far

Chapter 6

The ivy-clad grounds of Grace’s small New England college are as different from the tropical shores of Hawaii as anything could be.  Steve stands back and crosses his arms, content, as Danny and Grace walk ahead of him on the path through the quad, Danny waving his arms and beaming as he talks with his beloved daughter.

It’s exactly how Steve imagined.

Of course, in his vision they weren’t quite as bundled up, and he couldn’t see Danny’s breath, but Steve doesn’t mind the cold.  He even bought Danny a new coat, a short, black, slim-fitting down jacket, to replace that strange olive green thing Danny wore when he came to him in D.C.

Danny refused to wear the matching hat, though, and Steve wonders if he’s regretting it, the tips of Danny’s ears going pink in the chilly air.  Grace didn’t have any such qualms, and is sporting the pom-pom hat Steve brought her. “My friends are gonna love this,” she had exclaimed, pulling on the turquoise beanie adorned with yellow pineapples and the word “Aloha” along the bottom.  She twirled around to model it, and for a minute, she was eight years old again, showing off a new party dress.

Steve had made sure to capture the moment, quickly getting pictures of Danny and his grown-up daughter, arms around each other and broad smiles on their faces.

Now they’re on their way to lunch in Grace’s dining hall, after a morning spent at a welcome presentation and a talk about “making the most” out of the college experience.  After lunch, there are a handful of classes they can visit, and seminars about a variety of topics, including a panel on public service that has caught Steve’s interest.

The dining hall is packed with people, and Grace leads them through the tables until she gets to the one she is looking for.  A tall girl with long blond hair pops up and squeals at Grace, while two people that must be her parents look on indulgently.  Another girl yells from a few tables away and soon joins in the hug, several more family members tagging along behind her.

 After they all find seats, Grace introduces her roommates.  The tall blond girl is Hannah, from L.A.  Maritza, who has her mother, grandmother, and two younger brothers in attendance, is from Texas.  “Sam and Alaina are at the Athletics lunch,” Grace explains to Steve, as she passes around a pile of napkins, “but they’re going to try to catch up with us later. Alaina’s mom grew up on Kauai, she really wants to meet you.”

 With that the topic of conversation turns to Hawaii, and what Steve and Danny do for a living.  Steve tries to let Danny carry the conversation, but Danny keeps getting distracted by his daughter, who is proudly pointing out other people in the room that she wants them to meet.

 Before they’ve even finished their lunch (fairly mediocre soup and sandwiches, but that’s not really the point), Grace is up and dragging Danny over to meet one of her professors.  Steve picks at his turkey and cheese and watches them, Danny’s blond head and Grace’s dark one, leaning together as Grace whispers to her dad.

 “Grace is a lovely girl,” Maritza’s grandmother says.  “We met her when we visited in the fall.”

 Steve turns to the woman sitting on his left.   Her dark hair swings around her face in a tidy bob, and she looks way too young to be someone’s grandmother.   “Thanks.  I’m Steve, by the way.  Isabella, right?”

 She smiles.  “Yes, that’s me.”

 “You’re lucky that you got to visit already.  This is my first time.”

 She nods.  “Must have been hard for you both to come all the way from Hawaii for all those college tours.  Maritza managed to see about half of the ones she applied to.  For the rest, we figured we’d worry about it if she got in.”

 Steve takes a moment to wonder what Grace has told people about him and Danny.  He’s not even sure what she knows about their change in status, so to speak. Steve didn’t come along on any college tours, although he and Danny texted so often when Danny was doing them he almost feels like he was there.  Steve decides to change the subject before he puts his foot in his mouth.

 “Where in Texas do you live, Isabella? I have a former teammate who did his training at the Naval base in Fort Worth.”

 They stretch out the day as long as they can, wanting to spend as much time as they have with Grace, but by evening Danny and Steve are both lagging.

 Grace shakes her head at them as the waiter brings their check.  They’ve spent the past two hours in a cozy restaurant that is apparently the place all the kids go when parents are the ones footing the bill, and it lived up to its reputation.  Danny is still trying to figure out how to make the potato ravioli that came with his short ribs, and Steve was very satisfied with the scallop dish he ordered. He even split a dessert with Danny, a dark chocolate whiskey cake that was served warm with espresso ice cream, and snuck bites of Grace’s creamy cheesecake with a gingersnap crust.

 “You guys are done for tonight, you know,” Grace says as they stand up and start pulling on their coats.  “All that’s left is the freshman musical showcase, and no one expects their parents to come to that – at least not unless they’re performing in it.”

 “You could perform in it,” Danny says, unwilling to admit that there is anything his Grace can’t do.

 “I could, but I’m not – I’m going back to my room to finish my chem homework, and then I’m going to sleep.”

 “All right, all right,” Steve says, putting an arm around Grace’s shoulders and hugging her close.  “We get it.  We’ll let you get back to your life.”

 “See you tomorrow for breakfast?” Danny says.  “At that diner, right?”

 “Right.”  They exchange more hugs, and then Grace is skipping off down the street, turning to wave just before she turns the corner and disappears out of sight.

 Back at their B&B, they chat for a few minutes with a few people who are socializing in the living room on the first floor, Steve poking at the logs in the fireplace and generally scoping out the place while Danny questions another parent about his student’s experience with a seminar Grace is interested in, and then they climb the stairs to their third floor room.

 They had arrived late the night before, and hadn’t had much of a chance to appreciate the charmingly decorated room. More than the antique furnishings, however, Steve is excited to get back into the king-sized bed, with its ample down duvet and piles and piles of fluffy pillows.

 Soon enough, he tells himself.

 “You wanna have the first shower?” Steve approaches Danny, who hung his coat in the wardrobe and then stood staring into it for long enough that Steve wonders if he fell asleep on his feet.

 “What?  Oh, yeah, thanks.”  Danny smiles at him, tired but obviously still happy, and grabs his kit bag out of his duffel.  “I won’t be long.”

 Steve takes his turn in the bathroom after Danny, and when he gets out, clad only in his boxers, he dives under the covers as quickly as he can.

 “Oh my god, you’re insane,” Danny says, opening his arms and pulling him close.  “Come here, come here.  Your feet are like ice.  You’re ridiculous.”

 Steve grins and burrows into Danny, who is giving off heat like a stove, as always.  “I can’t help it.”

 “You just took a hot shower, didn’t you?  How can your toes still be this cold?  What’s wrong with you?”  But Danny’s actions show he doesn’t really mind, as he gathers Steve close to him and wraps the heavy comforter around them both.

 “I can put some socks on, if you want-”

 “Socks, maybe some pajamas?  You are completely lacking in sense.” Danny’s got their legs twined together, Steve’s wet head tucked up against his t-shirt clad chest.  He doesn’t actually seem that interested in Steve getting out of bed to put more clothes on.  

 Steve kisses his collarbone. “You’ll keep me warm.”

 “I’ll try.”  Danny shuffles them some more, getting comfortable, and Steve can feel himself relax into his hold.

 “Grace seems really happy,” Steve comments.  It’s true, it couldn’t be more obvious that Grace is thriving here, despite being so far away from home.

 “Yeah, she’s doing great.”  Steve can hear the pride and relief in Danny’s words. “Thanks for bringing me here, Steve. I mean it.”

 Steve presses another kiss to Danny’s chest, then lays his head back down.  “It’s my pleasure, Danno.  I had a good day today too.”

 “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?”  Danny opens his mouth to say something else, but his words are lost in a jaw cracking yawn.

 “Get some sleep,” Steve says. “We’ll see Grace again in the morning.”

 “Hmm, okay.”  

 Steve tugs the blanket a little higher around Danny’s shoulders, making sure he’s covered up, and lets himself drift off to the sound of Danny’s gentle snores.

 Unfortunately, despite the absolutely perfect feeling of being warmly wrapped in Danny’s arms, Steve can’t stay asleep.  He chalks it up to the time difference, and after an hour of trying not to move and wake Danny up, he reluctantly climbs out of bed.

 The floor is freezing, where it’s not covered with a rug, and Steve hastily pulls on his jeans and sweater, and takes his coat with him just in case.  He’s got it in his head that he’s going to go for a walk, but when he gets downstairs and pokes his head outside, he changes his mind.

 The porch is lit with twinkling white fairy lights, and the outdoor heaters are still on.  There are three small tables with chairs tucked in around them, and a porch swing adorned with festive cushions.  Jackpot, Steve thinks, and claims the swing, moving it gently back and forth.

 The clearing in front of the B&B is framed with pine trees.  Steve imagines they would look lovely dusted with snow, although he’s just as glad it’s not quite that cold yet.  He lets his thoughts wander, thinking over how well the trip has gone so far.

 It’s only been a week since Danny kissed him, but Steve considers it one of the best weeks he’s ever had. Danny had bounced back quickly from his slump a few days ago.  Although work got in the way of their lunch with Kono, they met her at dive bar on the north shore that night, and took up a corner booth all evening long, trading stories and enjoying each other’s company.  

 Steve had thought about inviting the rest of the team, but after a little while he was glad he hadn’t. There was something about being together, just the three of them, that seemed right.  They had experienced so much together that the more recent members of the team had only heard about.  Steve feels a little selfish, keeping Kono for themselves, but he figures it won’t do too much harm.  And when he sees Danny leaning into Kono’s shoulder, talking in low tones about how he’s been feeling, he figures Danny is probably glad they kept the group small as well.

 Steve is startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder.

 “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

 It’s really a rhetorical question, and Danny doesn’t wait for an answer, shoving at Steve’s leg until he slides over on the swing and makes room for Danny to sit down.  Danny gives the swing an experimental few rocks, and then sighs, leaning his head back.  Steve wraps his arm around Danny and they swing together, Steve pushing at the floor with one foot to keep them moving.

 “You doing okay, babe?”

 Steve squints at Danny.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  He is, he just can’t sleep.  Nothing new.

 “You really hit it off with Maritza’s grandmother.”

 Steve can’t tell if Danny is trying to make a joke or not.  “Yeah, she seems like a real nice lady.  Close to Maritza, too, and her younger brothers.  She watches them afterschool.  Apparently likes to play baseball with them.”

 Steve had been impressed by Isabella, and Maritza’s mom, too.  Single parenting didn’t seem to be too much for either of them to handle.  Maritza’s mom worked full time, but was still very involved in the lives of all three of her children, driving carpools, helping with the school play, and coaching little league on weekends.

 Isabella wasn’t the only grandparent at family weekend, either.  Danny’s mom and dad had even planned on going, until Steve had gotten tickets for him and Danny and they decided to let them have all of Grace’s attention.  The only reason Rachel isn’t present is because she caught the flu from Charlie.  Grace is surrounded on all sides by people who love her – moms and dads and grandparents who want to be there for all the important events in her life.

 Quite a contrast with Doris.

 Steve feels that ache in his chest again, and he looks up to find Danny studying him closely.  

 “You have a terrible poker face, you know,” Danny says.

 “No, buddy, that’s you.”

 Danny huffs.  “It was a lot of family stuff today.  Thanks for putting up with it.”

 Steve frowns.  “I love family stuff – especially your family stuff.  I didn’t have to put up with anything.  I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have any kids of my own.  Might as well live vicariously.”

 The words come out as lightly as he can manage, but Danny squeezes closer to him and lays his head on his shoulder.  “My kids love you, you know that.”

 Steve shrugs, ignoring the hot feeling behind his eyes.  

 “You’ve known Charlie for as long as I have,” Danny goes on.  “You’re as much his dad as I am.”

 This clearly isn’t true, and Steve says so.  “Besides, Charlie already has two dads, and a mom as well.”

 “There’s no limit on how many people can love a kid.  Charlie’s luckier than most, that’s all.”

 Steve scrubs at his face and takes a deep breath.  “Today was a little hard,” he finally admits, voice quiet.  “I think about it, sometimes.”

 “Having kids?”

 Steve nods.  “Yeah.  Not now, not really.  I’m too old. But… what might have been, if I had found someone sooner.”  He thinks of little kids who might have looked like Catherine, dark haired and bright eyed.

 “Not that I would have been a very good dad.”

 Danny shoves him and stands up, knocking the swing back.  “What the hell are you talking about?  You’d be a great dad.”

 Steve stands up too, one hand on the swing to stop it from knocking into the side of the building.  “Keep your voice down, it’s the middle of the night.”

 “I’ll be as loud as I need to,” Danny exclaims, although he does quiet down somewhat.  “Fuck, Steve, how you can think that about yourself?  You look out for Grace and Charlie as if they were your own, they know they can trust you, rely on you.  They love you.”

 “I didn’t exactly have the best role models, growing up.”

 “Well it didn’t matter, not for this.” Danny paces across the porch, silently fuming.

 It warms Steve, even though his sadness.  “I appreciate your show of support, Danny, but it’s water under the bridge.”

 Danny stomps a little more, and then sits down on the swing.  Steve joins him, bumping him with his shoulder.  Danny bumps him back, then goes still.

 “It doesn’t have to be,” Danny says quietly.

 “What do you mean?”

 “You said it’s water under the bridge – it doesn’t have to be.  If you really wanted kids – more kids than Grace and Charlie,” Danny gives Steve a meaningful look, daring him to argue about his status with the Williams children, “you could still have kids.”

 “That’s not how biology works, Danny,” Steve says, waggling his eyebrows at him.

 “I didn’t mean-”  Danny huffs.  “You’re such a child.  But be that as it may, you could still have kids, like with a surrogate.  Or adopt, like Mary did.  Even foster.  Think of the difference you made in Nahele’s life.”

 “No, honestly, Danny, that’s not what I want.”  At his age, with his health problems, Steve really can’t see himself having a baby, or even an older child.  It wouldn’t be fair.  “I just think about what it might have been like, that’s all.”  

 Danny considers this.  “Promise to tell me if you change your mind?”

 Steve quirks his eyebrow at him. “Why?”

 “I like kids,” Danny says. “Babies.  Toddlers. Hormonal teenagers, take your pick.”  Danny shrugs.  “I come from a family of four siblings, you’ll recall.”

 Steve feels his heart swell. “Are you saying you want to make a baby with me?”  He’s being silly, but it’s more to cover up his ridiculous feelings than anything else. Is Danny seriously proposing that they have kids, or foster, or something – anything – together?

 Danny fixes him with a determined stare, the fairy lights reflecting in his blue eyes.  “I’m saying that you should let me know if you change your mind.”

 Steve wraps his arm around Danny and pulls him close.  “I won’t, Danno.  But – thank you.”

 They cuddle on the swing for a few more minutes, then go back upstairs, strip down, and get into bed.  Steve really doesn’t want to have kids of his own, not any more.  But he realizes he misspoke before, when he said he didn’t have a good role model for being a dad.  Because one of the best dads he’s ever met is next to him right now, curled up heavy and warm against his chest.

 “Stop worrying, Steven,” Danny says, reaching up to run his hand over Steve’s head, and cup his cheek to bring his face to his for a kiss.  “We’ve got plans with our girl tomorrow.”

 <i>Our girl.</i> Steve can’t remember if Danny has called Grace that before.  Maybe he has, and Steve is just now noticing?

 On that note… “I think Grace’s roommates think that we’re a couple,” Steve whispers.  Isabella certainly did.  

 “We are a couple,” Danny says, squirming closer and kissing him again.

 “But that just happened.  Does Grace even know?”

 Danny pulls back and looks at Steve. “Babe, she knew it long before we did. Now, do you want to keep talking about Grace, or do you wanna-” Danny throws a leg over Steve’s thigh, and it’s clear which option Danny wants Steve to choose.

 Steve still has more questions. He’s not done thinking about Danny’s children, and what the change in his relationship with Danny might mean to his relationship with Danny’s kids (does it mean he’s more of a dad?  A step-dad?  Is being “Uncle Steve” enough, or better?).  But Steve is only human.  Danny is hard and hot against him, and Steve isn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth (at least not until he’s done checking out some more demanding parts of Danny’s anatomy).

 “Fool around now, talk more tomorrow,” he decides, tugging Danny’s boxers down over his ass. ��From the indecent noise Danny makes when Steve takes him in hand, Steve’s certain he made the right choice.

#mcdanno #Hawaii Five-0 #h50 #H50 fic #tw: depression

[dibs4ever]

Mixed Feelings

A multi TimSteph fanfic by request from @dc-comics-gal

Stephanie stared at the test in front of her. This is what they wanted right? She felt tears welling in her eyes she quickly whipped them. They weren’t tears of joy, they weren’t tears of disappointment either. Honestly, she didn’t know what they were. Then she got a flashback to when she was a teenager

15-year-old Stephanie Brown sat on the toilet staring at the test. Two pink lines. This couldn’t be happening, she was in high school, her dad was in jail, her mom worked constantly, she had just broken up with her jerk older boyfriend who moved to another town. Worst of all she was just starting to gain Batman’s trust. Now what? Sure she had many options but which one was right for her. She jumped when her phone made a loud noise as it vibrated on the marble countertop, she picked it up looking at the text

Tim: Hey where are you? I’ve been waiting on this rooftop for 15 minutes.

She smiled to herself. Tim- He was so sweet and caring and cute. Not to mention he was smart. He was the complete opposite of any guy she had ever dated. Which is why she was surprised when she realized she had a crush on him. But who wouldn’t with that rocking body. Sometimes she felt like he might like her too, but he was dating Cassie so that kinda put a stop to any romancing, which she respected. Besides Tim wouldn’t want her now anyways. She texted him back

I’m not feeling great, think I’ll skip patrol tonight.

A second later her phone vibrated again

Tim: Okay, feel better. Maybe if I get a chance I’ll stop by and check in

Fast forward 13 years and here she was again with a pregnancy test in hand. Except this one was different. This time it was Tim’s, this time they were married and had been for a year. This time the baby was planned.

Looking at the time she realized Tim would be home from his day job at Wayne Enterprise in 15 minutes. How would she tell him? Should she just come out and say it, or think of a cute Pinterest way?”

Stephanie shook her head “If I did the Pinterest way he’d try to break everything down to a science, I’ll just tell him” she said to herself before standing.

Tim arrived home not much later “Hey Steph I’m home.” He shrugged off his winter coat hanging it in the coat closet.

She stayed in the kitchen where she continued to prepare dinner. If she rushed to the door he’d know something was up

“Hey, it smells great in here.” Tim smiles stepping into the kitchen he wrapped his arms around her waist “What’s cooking good looking?” He kissed her cheek

“Chicken noodle soup” she turned giving him a hot spoonful

“Mmmm Alfred’s recipe” he grinned

Stephanie nodded “Is there any other way?”

Tim chuckled “If there is it's wrong”

Stephanie nodded in agreement “How was your day?” She asked moving the soup off the stove then turning to look at him again

Tim shrugged “It was work, doing accounting work for Wayne enterprises is a lot more fun with you there as my secretary” he pointed

Stephanie nodded “I was bored today”

He smiled “Well you were throwing up quite a bit this morning, I think staying home was a good call.”

Stephanie tapped her nails against the countertop “Yeah about that. I ummm I took a test today.” She said slowly

Tim rose an eyebrow “A test? What kinda test? Like Batwork test. Did you hack a database without me”

Stephanie laughed “Of course not, I took a pregnancy test,” she said softly

Tim’s eyes widened “And?”

Stephanie pulled the test out of her back pocket handing it to him

She watched as he examined it, his eyebrows furrowed

“This is positive” he pointed

Stephenie nodded

“You’re our having a baby? We’re having a baby the smile on his face grew “I’m going to be a dad. This is-“

He stopped when he noticed Stephanie’s emotionless expression “Are you okay- with this? I mean this what you want right? If you don’t I mean you can do what you have to do, I just figured since we’ve been trying the last 3 months and all that-“

Stephanie pressed a finger to his lips “Of course I want this Stud” she grinned

Tim smiled “Good cause I do too.”

They gave each other a quick kiss on the lips “Next thing is telling our family.”

Stephanie nodded “I say we see Lee or Dinah first then from there we will make plans.”

Tim nodded “Well thanksgiving just passed. What if we tell them on Christmas. When we are all together “

A small smile formed on her face “I like that idea”

——————————————————-

A week later Dinah informed her that she was approximately 5 weeks along. She recommended that she stop patrolling at the 8-week mark which was almost perfect timing for telling the family. She said that so far everything looked great. Tim was so happy, she had never seen him so happy. She was happy too, it’s just there was—-something bothering her.

Before they knew it Christmas was only one day away. She and Tim say in the living room as the finished wrapping presents.

“You think Nathan is going to like his new bo staff?” Tim asked as he wrapped the gift

Stephanie smiled “He’s Dick’s son and Robin. I’m sure he’ll love it”

Tim nodded “Yeah well he’s also going to be 13 soon. He’s getting to an age where he’s going to start wanting to be his own person”

Stephanie nodded “Not going to argue with you there. Then again Leah is 9 and we’ve never known what to get her”

Tim smiled “I can’t believe our family is going to know tomorrow “

Stephanie smiled “There hasn’t been a new kid in your family for 9 years.”

Tim nodded “I think everyone will be happy. At least I hope so”

——————————————————-

On Christmas, everyone sat around the 10-foot tree the last present seemingly had been unwrapped

“Well if everyone is finished I shall go grab the extra large trash bags and we can begin clearing the way,” Alfred said pushing himself up. Until Stephanie cut him off

“Actually Alfred Tim and I have a present we forgot to give you.”

Alfred smiled sitting back in his seat “Oh really? But you already gave me the new oven mitt set, which I live by the way”

Tim smiled “I think you’ll love this one even more” he handed the elderly man an envelope

The rest of the family looked on confused. Everyone was there, Cass, Jason, Damian, Bruce, Dick and Barbara along with their kids 12-year-old Nathan and 9-year-old Leah. Word was Selina would probably be by later as well. Alfred opened the card, you could tell he was slightly nervous since all eyes were on him

“Congrats you’re going to be a babysitter.” Alfred red the front of the card confused

Cass’ jaw dropped being the first to figure it out

Alfred smiled knowing what it meant as well but opened the card to read the rest “I mean a Great Grandpa -AGAIN!” Baby Drake due in July!”

“You guys are having a baby!” Barbara smiled reaching up from her chair and embracing Stephanie in a tight hug “Finally someone who will understand what it’s like to raise offspring of the Batboys” she joked

Stephanie laughed “Yeah I think I’m going to need all the advice I can get”

“Timmy! You’re going to be a dad.” Dick hugged his brother “You are going to love it, being a dad is a best especially when they are little and think you are the coolest person on earth” he nudged him

“I’m finally going to have cousins,” Nathan said happily

Leah smiled “You mean WE? I can’t wait”

Nathan looked at Stephanie “Even if this kid is a boy I’ll still be your favorite, right Aunt Steph?”

Stephanie smiled placing a hand on the boy's cheek “Of course, you’ll always be my precious angel” she laughed lightly

Then it was Jason who smacked Tim on the shoulder “Well Timbers I didn't know you had it in ya”

Tim smiled then looked at Bruce who had been observing everyone’s excitement “Well Bruce, what do you think?”

Bruce nodded “This is good news, I look forward to your child’s arrival. Congratulations Tim” he clasped Tim’s shoulder

Damian observed Stephanie

“What is it Dami?” She asked releasing

Leah from a hug

The 21-year-old tilted his head “How far along are you precisely”

Stephanie smiled “I’ll be 9 weeks in 2 days” she ran her hand along her still flat belly

Damian nodded “When will you begin to show?”

Stephanie shrugged “I’m still pretty early so this is relatively normal, considering how physically active I used to be. But everyone is different so who knows”

Damian nodded “But weren’t you pregnant before as a teen”

The room became quiet

“Damian, “ Dick said narrowly

Damian rolled his eyes “I am not a child anymore Grayson, I’m just asking a simple question “

Tim stepped forward putting an arm around Stephanie “Yeah but kinda a subject we’ve been trying to ignore”

Stephanie shook her head “Guys it’s fine he’s right” he was right but it wasn’t fine. Truthfully the whole pregnancy so far was bringing up flashbacks from things that she had hurried long ago. Perhaps that’s what had been wrong with her these past couple weeks. She wanted to be mad at Damian for saying what he said but she couldn’t. She really was excited for this baby, and he didn’t necessarily ask anything wrong. She thought she was over her first child’s adoption, why was she suddenly not?

#timsteph #Stephanie Brown #spoiler #Tim Drake #Red Robin #batfam au #batfamily headcanons #batfam fanfiction #timsteph fanfiction

[drowning-in-dennor]

Festivity

Yeah, this is pretty much the same thing as Celebration but at the same time is kind of a sequel to it? Basically, it kind of sucks but read it for Denmark’s birthday, I guess.

 For as long as he can remember, Denmark’s been told that all the stupid things he does will come back one day to bite him.

 And he, with his thousand years of existence, has never felt that more than when his phone rings right next to his ear on the bedside table. At midnight. And he knocks his still-ringing phone off the bedside table, rolling to the ground to grope blindly for it a few seconds later.

 As Sweden and Norway have said so many times before, it’s a miracle he’s still functioning.

 He presses “accept” on the call and is instantly greeted with Norway’s voice.

 “Happy birthday, Denmark.”

 “Is… is this revenge for me calling you?” He asks, yawning.

 “What do you think? Would I randomly call you at midnight otherwise?”

 “How are you still awake?”

 “Coffee and motivation.”

 Blearily climbing back in bed, Denmark reminds himself to never piss Norway off again. “I…” he yawns again. “Thanks for calling. I’m going back to sleep now.”

 Then he throws his phone on his bedside table, burrows under his blankets and shuts his eyes.

…

 He’s woken up again at ten in the morning, this time to Sweden’s call. With life decisions to reconsider and regretting not setting his phone to silent the first time a call woke him up, he answers the call.

 “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

 Fwump.

 And falls off the bed again.

 “Dad, I think we killed Denmark.”

 “No,” he says, voice slurred with sleep. “I’m alive. I just fell off the bed.”

 “You were sleeping?” Ladonia asks. “But it’s ten o’clock!”

 “In the morning!” Sealand adds.

 He answers with a yawn. Might as well get out of bed now. “Well, I’m awake now. Can I talk to one of your dads?”

 “DAD!”

 Denmark drops his phone.

 When he picks it up again, Sweden’s talking on the other side, thankfully much quieter than his sons. “... coming over soon.”

 “What?”

 “We’re coming over soon,” Sweden repeats. “Leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes.”

 “With Fin and the kids?” Denmark asks, getting to his feet.

 “Mmhmm.”

 “I’ll make lunch, okay?” He fishes for clothes in his closet, pulling out a button-down shirt. “See you.” Hanging up, Denmark heads for the shower, clothes in hand.

...

 When he walks into the dining room, towel slung over his shoulders, Denmark almost trips over his feet when he sees Norway sitting at the table, sipping his coffee from one of his mugs.

 And wearing that one red shirt he knows drives him crazy.

 He doesn’t know if he should regret giving Norway keys to his house.

 “Morning.”

 Denmark’s frozen in place and processing the fact that Norway is sitting at his dining table, in his house, in clothes of his flag colour and looking really, really hot, and trying to remember how to breathe properly.

 And because he’s as socially inept as a two-year-old, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “The hell are you doing here?”

 Norway gets up from the table with a small smile, tilting his head and showing off those amazing blue eyes that sparkle in the sunlight and making Denmark forget how to breathe. “I can leave if I’m disturbing you.”

 “No, no!” He blurts, face burning. “Uh… wow. I didn’t expect you to get here until the afternoon.”

 “Well, I decided to surprise you. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

 “You look nice.” Great job, Danmark, talking out of your ass at the only one you’ve ever loved. “Amazing, actually. You look amazing, Norway.”

 He reaches Denmark, reaching up on tiptoes to grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss, and that’s when Denmark’s brain stops functioning.

 When Norway pulls away from him, he knows he probably looks like a fish out of water, and he wonders why he’s acting so awkward and weird today.

 “Have you had breakfast yet?” Denmark asks, surprised that he can still form full sentences. “I can cook us something if you haven’t.”

 Face flushed from the kiss, Norway returns to his seat. “I had breakfast before I left Oslo, so I’m fine. How about you?”

 “Sve and Fin are coming over with the kids for lunch, so I’ll make some stuff, I guess.” Bouncing for the kitchen and earning a chuckle from Norway, Denmark reaches for a cookbook. “I’m thinking something simple. How does hønsekødssuppe sound?”

 Norway joins him at the kitchen counter, peering over his shoulder at the recipe. “No idea what that is, but I’ll help you make it. Now,” he leans closer and pokes Denmark on the cheek. “What do we need?”

…

 The dumplings are boiling away in chicken broth when the doorbell rings and Denmark runs to get it. Standing in the doorway, holding a small parcel, is Iceland. “Hi.”

 “Ice!” He squeezes him in a hug, making him drop the parcel on the floor with a clunk.

 Iceland frees himself with a kick to the shin and picks the parcel up. “You’re even older now, so we’re going to have to celebrate.” He hands Denmark the package with a smirk. “Here’s your present for getting old.”

 “Don’t be rude, Ice,” Norway calls from the kitchen.

 “You’re old, too,” Iceland hollers back.

 Denmark peels the tape off the parcel and finds himself looking at a stack of parchment bound together by twine. The edges are torn and every piece of parchment is wrinkled, yellow with age and packed with the dark-blue, ink-splotched handwriting of Iceland.

 He takes the first piece of parchment and starts to read.

~

14th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I heard you and Sweden arguing today, in the castle. I know Brother locked me in my room before the fighting started, but you two were yelling so loud that I could hear it all the way from where I was. You sounded like you were in pain, so I want to make sure you’re okay.

 Why was Brother involved? I heard you say, “Don’t take him, don’t take Norway from me” after you and Sweden were done fighting, like Sweden was going to take Brother away. He won’t do that, right? He has Finland, and I know he won’t trade him for anything or anyone.

 But I know that everything’s going to be fine, because you two have fought so many times. When you’re done, I’ll rip this up and go help in the kitchen. Then, the three of us will have dinner like always.

From Iceland

~

15th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I couldn’t sleep last night. I had dinner with Greenland and Faroes, but they were so quiet I felt like I was on my own. Everything was so, so quiet, and your shouting match with Sweden started replaying in my head. You were crying yourself to sleep, I could hear, but you locked your door so I couldn’t come in.

 Sweden did take Brother away, didn’t he? That’s why you told me he wouldn’t be coming back. But I’m sure he’ll be back, because you’ll fight Sweden again and take him back. You love Brother, so that’s what you’ll do to show that you love him. I’m sure of it.

 Please come out of your room — it’s getting awfully lonely by myself.

From Iceland

~

16th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I’m sorry for making you mad. I shouldn’t have picked the lock to your room, and I should’ve known you needed some time alone. And please don’t blame Faroes for teaching me how to pick locks, I’m the one who trespassed.

 I told Chef to make your favourite foods and bring them up to you this evening, so maybe they’ll make you feel better. Good food means a good mood, after all.

 And even though everyone else disagrees, I really miss you. I miss you telling stories and riding horses with me and teaming up to prank Brother. Brother’s not here any more, but for one day, could we maybe spend some time together?

From Iceland

 “I wrote these letters for a year after Nor left,” Iceland mumbles. “I wanted to slide them under your door… but I decided not to. Thought you should read them now.”

 Tearing up, Denmark hugs Iceland again. “You’re the best little brother a guy could ever ask for!”

 “We’re not even related!”

 Emerging from the kitchen, Norway raises his phone and snaps a photo of the two of them with a smile. “Your boss texted you, by the way,” he tells Denmark. “He wants to know if your speech is ready.”

 “What speech?”

…

 When Sweden, Finland, Sealand and Ladonia show up, they find Denmark and Norway sitting at the dining table, hunched over a stack of cue cards. Denmark’s holding a spoon in one hand and a pen in another, while Iceland is watching the two of them in faint amusement.

 “Happy birthday, Den!”

 Finland is met with silence.

 Iceland looks up from his bowl, idly stirring his soup. “Denmark forgot he has to deliver a speech in an hour.”

 “That happened last year, too,” Ladonia pipes up.

 “Well, they made lunch,” Iceland gestures to the pot sitting in the middle of the dining table. “So help yourselves, I guess.”

 Sweden sighs and walks to sit next to Norway, peering at the cards. “Need help?”

…

 Denmark reaches for another brunsviger and sighs in relief. “Thank goodness I pulled that speech off.”

 Sweden raises an eyebrow at his brother, passing the plate of buns to Sealand. “You’re welcome.”

 “Consider that my present for you this year,” Norway adds. Denmark sputters in disbelief and is met with a smile. “I’m just kidding, silly. You’ll get your present later.”

 “You better be talking about a nice book, or I’m out of this house the moment you two go to Den’s room,” Iceland warns. “Or maybe I should somehow get Mr. Puffin all the way from Reykjavik and sic him on you.”

 “What are they doing to do?” Sealand asks, mouth full of bread.

 “They’re going to read stories and chat together, Peter,” Finland says, shooting Denmark and Norway a dirty look. “Isn’t that right?”

 Iceland chokes on his brunsviger in laughter.

 The evening fades to night, and soon Norway and Iceland are the only ones left in the house. Iceland retires to the guest room at eleven, grabbing his bag and marching up the stairs. “If I hear anything strange at night, I’ll break into your room.”

 Denmark and Norway walk into the bedroom an hour later, sliding into bed together. Norway wastes no time in inching closer to Denmark, resting his head against his steady heartbeat and wrapping arms around his neck. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

 He kisses Norway’s forehead. “Seems like just yesterday when Iceland was little and we lived in the castle.”

 Norway laughs, nuzzling into Denmark’s neck. “Iceland’s still our little brother, and our houses are pretty much castles anyways.”

 “So not much has changed.”

 They hold each other as sleep covers both like a blanket, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

 No, not at all.

#aph dennor #aph fanfiction #aph denmark #aph norway #aph iceland #aph sweden #aph finland #aph sealand #aph ladonia #aph whale brothers #aph øresund brothers #aph anko family #aph hanatamago family #my writing #danish constitution day

[cassiopeiassky]

The Potato of Mass Destruction

Hello, everyone!  Here is a little something to make up for all the angst I’ve been writing lately.  This is my submission for @ruckystarnes Rae’s Summer of Satire Challenge, the prompt is  “If I’m dying, let me eat cake.”/“You’re not dying.”/“Let me eat cake anyway.”  The prompt is in bold.

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2745

Summary: It’s your kids’ birthday party today, and everything is going well until some of your family arrives with an early birthday present for the boys.  Chaos ensues.  It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt; Bucky, to be exact, when he is the victim of an extraordinarily random freak accident.

Warnings:  There’s not much here, kids.  Some mild profanity (but seriously, you should expect that from me by now), mentions of guns, Bucky gets hurt.

Also - I used some characters from one of my other fics (WEMtbB), so this story *could* be viewed as kind of a spoiler, however it can also be read as a complete story by itself.  I hope you all enjoy it!

Oh!  And the pic at the bottom - yes, I did that.  I am that extra.

The clock reads shortly after eleven in the morning as you hum along with the radio.  Despite the fact that you’re currently operating under a time crunch, you’re in your happy place.  Zen mode.  Relaxed and at ease in creative bliss.  As the smell of vanilla wafts through the kitchen, you painstakingly create a one eyed minion on top of a cupcake.

Your twin boys are turning eight next week, and you had suggested a private birthday party for their friends.  The boys had no problems with their friends coming to the family party, but you did.  Your extended family happens to include Captain America and Iron Man, among others, and their dad is the infamous Winter Soldier. Your boys’ friends know this and are perfectly capable of acting like decent human beings when surrounded by people who save the world as their full-time job, but their parents tend to get a little…intense…especially two of the single moms and one of the single dads.

To get around the inevitable secondhand embarrassment – and to keep the attention on the kids, where it’s supposed to be – you’d proposed two separate parties on consecutive weekends. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it to make sure they get the birthday they deserve.

The goggles on the current minion finally meet your standards, so you carefully place it on the platter with the completed cupcakes and…wait…weren’t you finished with 11 cupcakes?  Instinct has you whirling around, fears immediately confirmed.

“Bucky, no!  You can’t eat that!”  You snatch it back, inspecting it for any smudges in the icing.

Your husband stares at you, eyebrows drawn together, empty hand still held up to his wide-open mouth.  “I can’t have even one?  You always let me taste test.”

“No, Love, I’m sorry. These are for the boys’ ‘friends only’ birthday party this afternoon.  The first batch failed miserably – it’s a new recipe and I had to play with the temp and timing – so now I have exactly the number of cupcakes needed for the number of guests.  It’s a good thing I decided to make the boys a small layer cake to blow out their candles or I’d have to uninvite two kids.”

“So…just make more?” he suggests hopefully.  “I like cupcakes.”

You pick up another cupcake and begin to decorate it.  “Buck, I promise you can have all the cake you want next weekend when we have the family party.  And honestly, next week’s cake will be better cake.”

“But it smells so good, Doll, please?  You love baking,” he steps behind you and wraps his arms around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck, “and I love when you bake.  See?  Win – win.”

You snicker at his antics as you lean into his embrace.   “I would if I could, Buck, but I can’t.  The party is in less than two hours. Besides, I’m out of rice flour and can’t use regular flour until after the party because I can’t risk any cross contamination in the kitchen.  So many of the kids have allergies that I had to make these gluten, dairy, egg, and nut free.”  

“Gluten, dairy, egg, and nut free – what the hell is holding these things together?”  

“Xanthan gum and flax seed.” You shake your head as you laugh, “One of the little girls that’s coming is allergic to all of those, plus citrus.  I was so surprised when her mom told me that, I asked if her daughter survived on rainbows and unicorn farts.  I mean, what else can she eat?”

Bucky chuckles as he stealthily reaches for the bowl of icing, but you catch him in your peripheral and bring a wooden spoon down on his knuckles.

Every now and then you manage to impress yourself with your reflexes.

“Ow!”

“Bucky!  I took me six tries to get decent tasting dairy free icing and I don’t have any to spare, so if you can’t keep your hands to yourself, get out of my kitchen!”

“I just wanted some cake,” he grumbles as he pouts.

You turn to him and take his face gently in your hands.  “Bucky, my love, I know and I’m sorry.  I promise you’ll have all the cake you want next weekend.  I’ll even make some with extra frosting – I’ll pile on the old lady flowers so it’s an inch and a half thick, just like you like.  I just don’t have any to spare right now.”

“But next weekend is so far away,” he whines.

Your fingers slide back and tangle in his hair, and you press your lips to his before whispering, “I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?”

He pretends to think about it for a few seconds.  “Deal,” he smirks before pulling you close and kissing you deeply.

Who knows how long you were wrapped in each other’s embrace before you hear the door open and close – could be thirty seconds, could be ten minutes – you can never tell when you’re like this with Bucky because time stands still.

“Aw man, they’re at it again.”  Jimmy tries to sound disgusted, but you happen to know that he secretly loves that his mom and dad are affectionate.  It makes him feel secure.

You giggle at your son’s observation, but Bucky doesn’t break form.  He takes kissing his wife very seriously.

“Do you really have to do that here?  We have people coming over.”  Artie does a better job at sounding irritated, but when Bucky finally breaks the kiss and you turn to him, you can see the small smile on your son’s lips.

“Yes, I do,” Bucky replies before you can shoo them away.  “I will have you know that, as your father, it is my solemn duty to show you how a man should treat his partner.”  Bucky’s hands rise to cradle your face as he speaks, “If you don’t see me treat your mom with love,” he pauses to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “adoration,” another tender kiss to your forehead, “and respect,” a gentle thumb glides over your cheek as he kisses the other, “then how are you supposed to know how to treat the person you love?  You can think it’s gross, but I’m doing my best to raise my boys to be loving, respectful men.”  He gets a mischievous glint in his eyes.  “Besides, your mom’s hot.”

“Oh, gross,” Artie makes gagging noises while Jimmy rolls his eyes.

The conversation is interrupted by a brief knock on the front door.  “Hello!  Everyone decent?”

“Grandpa!! Uncle Eddie!!” The boys run to the door and into the arms of the two men standing there. Technically it’s your grandpa and uncle, but Great Grandpa and Great Uncle Eddie is just too much.

“Hey boys, guess what?”

Your uncle has an impish glint in his eye…you know this look.  You don’t know what he’s holding behind his back, but whatever it is isn’t good. “Uncle Eddie, no.”

“Uncle Eddie, yes,” he declares, presenting what he was holding behind him.  “Happy birthday kiddos!”

“What the hell is that?”

You speak at the same time Bucky does, but louder.  “No! You are absolutely NOT giving my seven year olds a potato gun!”

“We’re practically eight, Mom!”

“Wait, it’s a what?”  Bucky looks both confused and delighted.

Your uncle smirks at the chaos he’s sown.  “It’s fun!”

“It’s a weapon of mass destruction!” you shoot back.

Uncle Eddie shoots you an unimpressed look.  “You’re being a little dramatic here.”

You march over to your uncle and lift the white plastic barrel of the gun.  It still has its old Scooby Doo sticker on the side of it – the one you’d put there as a little girl. “It’s your old gun??  The one you souped up to make it even more powerful?!   No.  NO.  And I’m not being dramatic – it’s works by combustion and the barrel is wider than two inches – it is classified as a weapon of mass destruction.”

“She’s not wrong,” Bucky interjects, sounding slightly impressed that you knew that.

“Aw, come on, peanut, you know we’re safe!  You let Bucky teach them gun safety and you’ve let us take them deer hunting for the past two years.  You trust us, you already know they’re in good hands!”

“Okay, first of all, the reason Bucky taught them gun safety is because there are guns in the house.  They’re inaccessible to the kids, but he did it as a precautionary measure.  Second, I am a grown ass woman.  I officially outgrew the nickname peanut years ago.  Finally –“

“No,” your grandpa interrupts gently, “You were my first grandbaby.  You’ll always be my peanut.”

“I – okay, fine.  But finally, your gun safety isn’t in question, the potato gun is.  It doesn’t even have a safety!”

Uncle Eddie grins as he pulls the can of Aqua Net out of its chamber.  “There, satisfied?”

You fold your arms and glare at your uncle.  

“Please, Mom? Pleeeeeeeease?”  Twin sets of beseeching eyes turn your way.  “Just until the party?”

You can feel Bucky’s stare boring into the side of your head.  He’d never contradict you in front of the boys – the two of you always back each other’s plays, and if ever there’s an issue it’s discussed later – but you can practically hear his curiosity begging for permission.  

It’s pretty clear you’re outnumbered.  And, truth be told, it’s practically a right of passage in your family.   There was a time when it was you and your uncle begging your mom…

“Fine,” you relent, “but it needs to disappear before any of the kids get here for the party.”

Five beaming smiles are your reward as your boys, grandpa, and uncle race to the back door to get to the back yard.

“You know they’re gonna be fine, right?”  Bucky holds in his excitement to pull you into a reassuring embrace; even now, your well-being is his priority.  “Your family is really good about firearm safety, even by my standards.”

“You do realize that I just agreed to let my uncle – who drove through town last Saturday night with his bare ass smushed against the back window of his car while my aunt drove – take our boys out back to fire a homemade device that has enough power to shoot a potato over 200 yards?”

Bucky grasps you by the shoulders as he pulls back, eyes wide.  “When you put it that way…”

All you can do is nod when you see his curiosity overtaken by common sense.

“I’m gonna go…supervise…” He doesn’t even have the sentence fully out before he’s speeding toward the door.

“They’re gonna be fine.   It’s fine.  Everything is fine,” you mutter to yourself as you return to the cupcakes.

* * *

It’s about a quarter past one, and the cupcakes are finally done.  The boys’ friends will probably start arriving within the next 40 minutes or so, so you take the platter of cupcakes and the boys’ small cake for the candles and head out to the back yard to set up the cake table.

When you step into the afternoon sunlight, the sounds of giggles and shrieks meet your ears.  They’ve been busy – all of the folding tables that had been placed are now decorated for the party.  The potato gun is sitting on top of one of the tables, abandoned for a game of chicken.  Jimmy is on Uncle Eddie’s shoulders, and Artie is on Bucky’s as they race around the yard.

As you lay out the cakes, everyone comes over to see what you’ve done, including the squirrel that lives in the tree providing the shade.

“Mom, those are so cool!” Jimmy’s practically jumping up and down.

Artie wraps his arms around your waist, “You’re the best momma ever,” he whispers, and your heart promptly melts.  

Unbeknownst to any of you, the squirrel had shifted to get a better look at the brightly colored confections, not catching anyone’s attention until it let out a loud squeak as it fell out of the tree.  This wouldn’t have been exactly catastrophic except that it landed just right on the potato gun, somehow managing to fire a potato straight into Bucky’s crotch from 20 feet away.

The former assassin drops to the ground like a sack of apples.  His mouth opens in a silent scream as the blood drains from his face and he curls into the fetal position.

“Bucky, are you okay? Bucky?”  You rush to kneel next to him, trying to offer whatever comfort you can. You’re reasonably sure that this can’t kill him, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.

“Oh my God, I think this is the end of the line for me,” he groans, trying unsuccessfully to roll to his knees.  “I can see flashing lights.”  He gives up his efforts to move and curls into a ball in the grass.  “This isn’t how I thought I would go.”

“Buck, you’re going to be okay.”  Recognizing by his tone and actions that he isn’t in any actual danger, you have to swallow back the laughter that’s suddenly threatening to bubble out of you.

“No, I’m not.  I really think I’m dying, and if I’m dying, let me eat cake.”

Yep, he’s fine.  In pain, but fine.  “You’re not dying.”

“Let me eat cake anyway.”  He grins up at you with watery eyes.

You sit back on your heels, unable to fully hide your relief as you mutter, “You’re a shameless little shit.”

The boys approach slowly. “Dad?”  There’s a hint of fear in their voices, and this is enough for Bucky to pull himself together.

“I’m okay,” he whimpers as you help him sit up.  “I’m okay.”

They both kneel in front of him.  “Are you sure?” Jimmy whispers.

Bucky nods while grimacing. “It’s just your standard potato to the balls, not much worse than Auntie Nat’s cheap shot in a fight.  I’ll be fine, just gotta walk it off.  Now help me up.”

As the boys help their dad, your eyes turn to your uncle, who is trying unsuccessfully to hide behind your grandpa.  “Seriously? You forgot to pull out the hairspray and the potato?”

Uncle Eddie stares at you in mild terror.  “I’m, uh, I should probably take that thing and leave because you have guests coming soon. See you next weekend, guys!”  You’ve never seen your uncle walk so fast in your entire life.

You turn to your grandpa, and he starts chuckling.  The laugh you’d managed to hold back earlier comes out in a snort, and the boys, understanding now exactly what happened, begin giggling uncontrollably.

“I can’t believe I still don’t get cake.”  The disappointment in his hoarse voice is crystal clear.  Shaking your head and completely unsuccessful at stopping your laughter, you pull his arm over your shoulders and help him limp back to the house.  When you pass the fridge, you pause to grab a bag of frozen peas for him to ice his tender junk.

* * *

Later that night, after the party is done and the boys are all tucked in, you do what you can to make up for Bucky’s ordeal.  He’ll be fully healed by tomorrow – the bruises are already beginning to fade – but you still feel bad for him.  

Giggling to yourself as you put on the final touches, you listen carefully for any sign of your husband. Not that it really matters – if he doesn’t want to be heard, he’s as silent as night.  Satisfied that he’s still upstairs in your bedroom either reading or writing in his journal, you snap the lid onto the dish, grab a fork, and make your way to him.

When you enter your bedroom, you realize why you were able to get away with preparing your little surprise.  He’s outside on the balcony with the doors closed.

Bucky turns his blue eyes your way when you join him, smiling softly as he reaches for you before noticing the thing in your hand.  Immediately recognizing the cake carrier, his eyes grow wide with delight.  “Is that for me?”

You smile as you gently place the dish in his lap.  “Mmm hmm.”

He removes the cover and bursts out laughing at what he finds.

A chocolate cake, decorated with an abundance of flowers and frosting at least an inch thick all the way around, with a message that leaves no room for misunderstanding as to whom this cake is for.

“Here’s your damn cake, you little shit.”

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#SummerofSatire2018 #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #my work #the potato of mass destruction

[astridthevalkyrie]

Axe to the Heart: Chapter 9

Astrid Hofferson/Steve Harrington. “Maybe I hate a lot of things here in Hawkins but I suppose you’re not one of them.”

Chapter 8

This chapter is dialogue HEAVY you guys...

Her nose wasn’t stuffed, and her throat didn’t hurt, and she wasn’t really nauseous, but she had had a headache the entire day, felt drowsy and cold all at once, and to top it all off, she had the whole day to actually, freely think about everything Hopper had told her last night. The demogorgon. The dogs. The Upside Down. Jane’s abilities. Her abuse. How a bunch of kids were dealing with things that kids shouldn’t have been dealing with.

And how her parents weren’t allowed to know because not many people were allowed to know. Because it wasn’t supposed to be known. Other dimensions and monsters were hidden away from people like her.

So Astrid spent the day groaning pitifully to no one in particular. She wanted to go -

Well, she didn’t want to go home, but she also did. Berk was strange, but it was beautiful and mysterious and it was her life. Hawkins had been dull and dry until this all happened. And maybe the excitement would be welcome if it didn’t come so fast and with a dose of child abuse.

There was a light knock on her window, and Astrid saw the hair before she looked at her clock. It wasn’t that late, but there was no reason for Steve to come. Their presentation had been today, and she had missed it.

Still, she trudged up and opened the window, reaching out and plucking a leaf from his hair before allowing him to come in. “Did you drive here? Can you even do that with your leg?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Steve closed the window and then she saw he had a bag in his hand. “I was already out, I had to drop someone off at the middle school dance.”

“Was it…” She tried to remember a name from the multitude Hopper had given her yesterday. “Lucas?”

He shook his head. “Dustin. Here, I picked up soup for you.”

Astrid blinked in surprise, but took the bag without protest. She’d been too lazy to eat too much all day. “Um...thanks.” She looked up at him. “You didn’t have to.”

Steve snorted as she sat down on the bed with the bag next to her and flopped down, his head on her lap. “And I should have let you make your own soup? Please, I didn’t want you to die.”

She flicked his ear (it had been one bad smoothie and suddenly she was a bad cook? Unbelievable.) and yawned softly. “Why are you here? We don’t have anything to work on.”

“No,” Steve agreed, “but A, your parents are never home and you’re taking care of yourself, B, I didn’t have anything else to do, and C, you kissed me yesterday. We’re not going to just ignore that, are we?”

To her benefit, the way he brought it up caused her just to roll her eyes rather than any of that cursed blushing she’d been doing lately. “I just found out about alternate dimensions and me kissing you is what you wanna talk about?”

“Alternate dimensions will still be here tomorrow,” he said with a wide grin, raising his head slightly.

“While your lips won’t?”

Steve sighed dramatically and fell right back into her lap. “I thought Hopper already told you everything.”

“He did,” Astrid murmured, distractedly running her fingers through his hair, “I got Eleven, superpowers, bad lab people, missing Will, fake body, more monsters but little ones...I heard a lot, but not much about your involvement.”

He smirked; it seemed everything she said today was enough to set him off. He leaned up with his elbow propped up on the bed and his head in his hand. “How about this? I’ll tell you my involvement if you tell me something.”

Astrid furrowed her brows - how was she the interesting one right now? Lying on her stomach to face him eye to eye, she nodded. “Shoot.”

“Who are those people?”

Steve jerked his head towards the picture of the gang still propped up on top of her drawer, and her heart leaped in her chest. “Why?”

He gazed at her for a few seconds, and then said quietly and sincerely, “Because you look beyond happy in those pictures, and I’ve never seen you like that. Happy, yeah, but not that. Not...her,” he said, looking at the photo curiously.

“I…” Her voice caught in her throat. “That’s...they’re...important.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to look into Steve’s eyes. “They’re...the most important people in the world to me. They’re my best friends.”

She closed her eyes for a second, expecting a laugh or something, but when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her, intrigued, so she bit her lip and went on.

“I grew up with the gang. We...all of us played in the mud together, went on swings, took the mickey out of each other.” A small smile graced her lips as fond memories rushed through her head. “It was like...us against the world. There was me and Ruffnut, we were the only girls.”

Steve wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was looking at the picture and squinting as she described them all. “There was Ruff’s twin brother, Tuffnut, or Tuff. Fishlegs. He’s the other blonde boy. Snotlout, the short one. And…” She swallowed. “And the brunette is Hiccup.”

Her voice must have cracked, because he turned back to her and a look of understanding passed through his face. “And you and Hiccup dated.” It wasn’t a question.

“How did you -”

“I wouldn’t know for sure,” Steve mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly, “but I think...the way you were looking at his picture just now?” He looked down. “I think that’s the way I was looking at Nancy when I saw her volunteering at the dance.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to do with that information. “That’s…”

“Pathetic, I know. She’s moved on, so why can’t I?”

Astrid hummed in thought for a few seconds and then said, “Just because she’s dating Byers doesn’t mean she’s moved on. She probably still cares.”

He snorted, sitting up with a slightly pained expression. “Of course she cares. She’s Nancy Wheeler. She’s nice and sweet and she...she cares about everyone…”

Oh, like she’d never met anyone like that before.

‘Hiccup too.” She sat up and he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. “He was nice and smart and funny and he loved animals.”

“He sounds like a great guy.”

“Nancy sounds like a great girl.”

“And we sound fucking pathetic.”

A laugh escaped her and she pressed her face against his chest. He wasn’t wrong, they were praising each other’s exes. “Well, we’re the assholes in the relationships, remember?”

“Yeah, we are.” He took a deep breath and then his words came out in a rush. “Last year, I saw Jonathan in Nancy’s room and my fucking head told me that meant she was cheating on me. I let my friend - at the time - spray paint shit about her. Then I...I…”

Deciding to follow his example, she didn’t say anything, but held his hand to show she was listening.

“I...insulted Will, and Jonathan punched me, and oh God, I fucking deserved it. So I went to his house to apologize but fought a demogorgon instead.”

Astrid breathed softly, looking up at him. “But Nancy was still dating you. What about this year? You had to deal with the...the demodogs?”

He gave a short nod. “Yeah. Dustin needed my help and I didn’t realize there was so many of them. I thought I could take it. Anyway, at some point Billy showed up -”

“Hargrove?”

“Yeah, Hargrove. He hates Lucas and he hates that his sister Max is with Lucas and he came and he pushed the kid onto a shelf.”

“What the fuck?” Astrid pulled back, staring at him incredulously. “What could Lucas have done that was so -”

“Billy’s racist.”

Pieces clicked together in her brain, and she nodded slowly. Great, more child abuse, just what this story needed, and now with a sprinkle of racism. Perfect.

“I got him away from Lucas, and I punched him, but then he smashed a plate on my head -” Astrid winced, trying not to imagine terrified kids watching their teenage protector lose a fight to someone who was out to hurt them - “and started to beat me up.” He scoffed lightly. “I guess I kinda deserved that one too. Once I hit the ground...I let him. At least he was beating me up instead of the kids, right?”

Steve’s voice was shaking, and Astrid, vividly remembering how Snotlout would tremble just like that whenever he talked about his shitty father, slid her arms around his neck and pulled him close, so that he could hide his face as he tucked it in the crook of her neck.

“He kept going. And going. Until...well, I passed out, but they told me Max stabbed him with a syringe that knocked him out.” She felt a slight wetness on her skin. “So a thirteen year old saved me because I couldn’t bother to hit back after a few punches.”

Astrid felt tears prickling at the corner of her ears too (to think that she’d thought he got those bruises in some stupid alpha male fight!) and she rubbed his back. “Hey. It’s okay. You...you were amazing, okay? Hiccup’s dad, he told me once that we both were warriors, born to protect. You are too. We’re protectors.”

Steve didn’t respond to that, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, holding her close.

Then, after a minute, he said, without letting go of her, “I’m not over Nance.”

“I know.”

“I think you’re amazing, and - and a great kisser, and I wanna be with you, but it’s not fair if I’m still thinking about her.”

“I know what you mean.” She glanced at the photo over the shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ready yet either. Definitely attracted to you, but…”

“But let’s wait awhile.”

“Yeah. Maybe the feelings will go away.”

“Or maybe they’ll stay.”

“Maybe,” Astrid said softly.

It was then Steve pulled back, wiping his eyes (a lot more softly than she did when she was crying, but she was starting to notice he was a soft boy in general).

“Sorry. You’re sick. We should - I should....uh…”

Astrid bit back a smile and then closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just hold me, yeah?”

Steve complied, and as she was warmed up by his arms and soothed by the sound of his heartbeat, she thought that it should have felt like the end of a story just about now.

Instead, it felt like the beginning.

Okay, so I have like, five people who read this thing, and I want to ask you:

Since there’s no real plot running in my head, but a bunch of oneshot ideas, do you want me to end this story here and post them as separate oneshots in this universe? Or should it just be new chapters for this, but without a real plot (i.e. the Upside Down, demogorgon) and just Steve and Astrid’s developing relationship?

Also, either way, I’d like you guys to send in prompts for oneshots that I won’t guarantee I’ll write each one, but hopefully they’ll inspire me and you can send me as many as you want (but only for them at this stage of their relationship, close friends but not dating, once they start dating it can be prompts for that. You can still send romantic prompts, but they won’t be dating).

Please let me know!

#httyd #stranger things #astrid hofferson #steve harrington #stevestrid #valkyrie stories