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emsemotional · 3 years

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out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing.

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha.

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation.

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down.

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms.

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!”

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?”

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to.

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!”

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!”

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?”

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?”

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them.

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch.

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated.

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.”

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.”

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced.

Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet.

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve.

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.”

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued.

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must’ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.”

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent.

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.”

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?”

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked.

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.”

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it.

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!”

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.”

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles.

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps.

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.”

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking.

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian.

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?”

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head.

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?”

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.”

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.”

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.”

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.”

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.”

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?”

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact.

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk.

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside.

“M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.”

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?”

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?”

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door.

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?”

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor.

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it.

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snapplejaxs · 4 years

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Locked The Door Behind Him

Dean Winchester x reader SUMMARY: Dean accidentally wakes the reader, trying to sneak out of her apartment. smut, fluff // 3k wc.

*a/n - (y/f/n) = your friend’s name

♡︎ • ♡︎ • ♡︎ • ♡︎ • ♡︎

The loud sound of Bucky's picture frame hitting the wooden floor shakes you out of sleep. You open your eyes to a dark apartment and a dim light reflecting from the half pulled curtains. You blink, trying to adjust to the sudden awaking, but your eyes are heavy and your thoughts are confusing. You give in to the drowsy and shut your eyes. You didn’t need to get up and investigate the noise. You can recognize that sound in your sleep. Literally. You know it's that old photo of your departed dog because it's always falling off your nightstand. You keep making a mental note to upgrade the frame to something new and sturdy but it seems like the least important thing to do during your busy day. But tonight, the damn thing sounds like an old civil war cannon it's so loud.

“Shit.” You hear Dean whisper to himself.

Your consciousness returns. Along with a shudder up your spine. You lay perfectly still and keep your eyes closed. You can't see him, not in the dark anyway, but you know he's looking at you. The room got dead silent when Buck's frame fell. You imagine him pausing in one spot, watching you to see if you move. It's what you would do if you were in his position of trying to sneak out of some stranger's apartment at 4am after a bar hookup.

When you don’t respond to the loud slam, Dean continues dressing. You hear the quiet sound of denim sliding over skin. You picture him balancing on one of his, surprisingly smooth and hairless, legs while trying to get his jeans on as silent as possible.

God, this is not how one night stands are supposed to go. You were meant to thank him for the great time, made sure he got in his car safely, lock up your apartment, and then go to sleep. Not fall unconscious next to some man you don’t know. Sure, you might have just fucked him but that doesn't mean you know him.

What if he's stealing your expensive jewelry? Or digging around in your drawers for panties to take home because he's some weirdo, like that guy from that episode of SVU you saw the other night. That woman got murdered by her hookup. Maybe you should get up. Dean could be in your kitchen looking for the biggest knife right now.

Peeking an eye open, you look and see Dean’s silhouette thrashing around inside his t-shirt looking for armholes. There's no knife or panties in his hand. You feel a little better at that. You open both your eyes to try and see better in the dark light. But still, you barely see him.

Your apartment got pretty dark at night. And you made sure you turn off all the lights before you left to meet up with (y/f/n) to go drinking. You didn't plan on tonight going the way it did, bringing a man back to your place and all. You just wanted to put on a little tight dress and enjoy your weekend off with your best friend.

But then you saw Dean.

Or more like, Dean saw you. You and (y/f/n) were on stage, in the middle of tipsy karaoke when they started poking at your ribs and signaling at the bar. You looked over and saw Dean. Turned around in his chair, eyes glued to yours, and nursing a bottle of beer. He stared at you like you were a Super Bowl game. Like if he turned away for just a second, he’d miss something he didn’t want to miss.

When he brought his beer down from his mouth, he gave you a toothless smile and a wink. Ho-lee-fuck was it the hottest wink you have ever seen. He never took his eyes off you as you stood on stage singing off-key. He licked his lips while looking straight at you. He made you feel nervous. An entire room full of people and just one person made you feel nervous.

When the song ended, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Of course, (y/f/n) whispered nothing but the dirtiest advice in your ear.

'You’re a single and sexy adult.' 'You make your own rules.’ 'It's been months, and you need to get back out there.'

And then there was the one that sold you.

‘It’s just one night.’

You bought all the naughty advice from your friend. Took a shot for good luck, And approached the winking stranger. You thought he was sexy from across the bar with stage lights burning in your eyes, but nothing compared to when you stood face to perfect face with him. He had gorgeous green eyes, flawless freckly skin, and a flirty smile. He introduced himself in a gravelly old movie narrator voice.

"Dean."

You couldn’t believe he was an actual person speaking to you in a small town bar and not some actor on TV. Dean unmistakably had a face for the cameras. But he told you he worked a regular nine to five and was just in town on business.

(y/f/n) made an excuse to leave and you stayed behind for a few drinks with Dean. The two of you drank and flirted for about an hour, before talking turned into a public makeout session in a secluded booth near the bathroom. There was some under the table leg touching and lots of tongues. Things got so heated that the bartender had to hit the table and tell the two of you to, 'take it to Motel-6.'

Not ready to say goodnight, you boldly suggested an after party back at your place. And Dean wasted no time. He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

The kissing only intensified when the two of you were alone. His hands massaged at your knee. Then crept up to squeeze at your thigh. When you felt his hand crawl up your leg even further, you didn't argue. Instead, you found yourself spreading your legs to welcome him under your dress. He rubbed the outside of your panties until you were damp and swollen. It felt damn good. But you needed more than his soft little circles. His hand went lower, sliding over your clothed opening. You moaned into his mouth, and wrapped your hand around his neck, stroking his soft hair. His finger slipped inside your panties. You gasped and broke the kiss.

"Dean, my place." You remind him.

He nodded. "Which way?"

"S-swain." His finger roamed up and down your swollen lips. "Take Swain un-, until Courtland Ave." You reached down and guided his finger inside of you. You felt his thick fingers stretch you. "Just don't stop."

Dean started his car. A loud rumble came to life. His headlights lit up the parking lot. It excited you. Hearing his car, seeing the lights, it all made you realize how real it was. You were really leaving a bar with a man who didn't even know your last name. He knew nothing about your job, your family, your breakup a few months ago - nothing. And yet, he was knuckle deep inside of you.

You heard the wet sounds as he slid them out and rubbed your wetness all around you. He teased at your clit with his slow circles and then sped up his movements. After a few minutes of his little pattern, he dipped back into you again. You purposely clenched down on him. Dean curled his finger and went faster.

"Shit." You threw your head back against his seat and cried out. "Fuck." You held his wrist. You could have cared less about keeping quiet or cool, your body was on fire. You had never done anything like that in your life. You got fingered by a guy after you shakily gave him directions to your apartment. The same apartment you were about to fuck him as soon as you got there. So scandalous and out of character for a working girl like you.

Dean suddenly stopped his thrusting. You felt his hands pull away from you and it made your eyes open. You look around confused about why he stopped. You were so close.

"Is this it?" Dean asked nodding towards your building.

"Yes." You panted. "You can park here. It's fine." It was your turn to grab and pull. You yanked Dean out of his car, into your building, through the elevator, and into your apartment - kissing and grinding the whole way through.

The thought of fucking a stranger made you so eager to hop in bed that the lights were the last thing on your mind. No, 'take your shoes off' or 'get comfortable.' You kept everything the way it was as the two of you tangled each other and raced to get undressed while walking towards your bed.

You kicked off your pumps and slid your drenched panties down to toss away in the darkness and sat on your bed to watch Dean's shadow outline drop his pants and boxers. You had no idea what to do next.

"I've never done this before." You confessed. There was a small pause.

"I know." He snorts. "Do you want to stop?"

"No."

Dean stepped back to roll on a condom. You didn't even notice he had one in his hand or saw where it came from. This might have been your first one night stand, but something told you he knew his way around these pretty well. You laid back and let him take the lead. And he did.

Once he was secured, Dean hovered above you. He dipped down and placed a single kiss on your lips. Re-positioned himself. Then kissed you again as he slowly pressed himself down on top of you. He balanced on his elbows and deepened the kiss with a lip bite. You invited him in. His tongue was warm and active. He rolled himself into you, his tip hitting you just right as his mouth explored yours.

He slowly slid himself inside, inch by thick inch. He was big, and your body knew it. There was some natural resistance. Dean brought a hand down to massage you, his way of saying 'relax' without speaking words. Dean kept massaging until he was able to keep pushing through. It was a painful stretch, but at the same time felt good. Feelings you haven't felt in months.

Once he was fully in, he pulled away from you to breathe. “You okay?” He whispered. His voice was close. You liked that he was so close, it sent shivers down your spine.

You responded with a nod, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the dark, so you hummed out, “mmhm.”

Without another word, Dean reattached his lips to yours to continue where he stopped. His hands floated up and down at your sides, then rested at your waist to hold. He pulled out almost entirely, only to slide himself back in with more ease. You whined into his mouth. You wanted to scream, but he wouldn't let go of your lips. He felt good sliding in and out of you. He was hard and warm.

Dean continued rocking, nice and slow. His hands left your hips and found yours in the dark. He laced his fingers into yours and held them as he kissed you. You wanted to feel more. You wrapped your legs around the middle of his waist and pressed him in even further. Trying to give him the hint.

Dean pulled his knees up and picked up his movement by only a little. He slid your hands up as far above your head as they could go and you used the opportunity to lift your hips to push yourself against him.

"More," you spoke against his lips. "Please. More."

Dean let go of your hands and wrapped around your lifted waist and hosted you up with him as he sat on his knees. You gripped his shoulders and threw your head back to cry at the ceiling. He felt so much deeper in you. Dean attached his lips to your exposed neck. He wrapped an arm around your bare waist and pulled you close. You placed your legs to his sides and straddled him, starting your own rhythm as you rode him.

Dean separated from your neck and hissed into the darkness. You wrapped a hand around his neck and squeezed, choking him. He cursed in the darkness and you felt his arms hug you tighter, he liked what he was feeling. You rode faster. He felt so good. Each stroke made you crave for the next, deeper and harder.

The room filled with your in-sync heavy breathing and moans. You dropped your head down, in an attempt to look at him in the dark, but met his lips. You let go of his neck and dug your nails into his back, scratching and pinching. He grunted inside your mouth.

You smelt the cologne melt off his sweaty body that rubbed against your layer of sweat. You were high off of him. Your clit rubbed up against him in just the right way. You could feel your body building an orgasm from deep within you, and slowly rising up. You pushed away from Dean.

"A..ah...aah..." You sing into the air. "Dean," you squealed out at the intensity of your orgasm traveling throughout your body. You fell limp on his shoulder and let heat and pleasure overcome you. “Holy fuck.” Escaped your lips in a whisper as ecstasy ripped through you in waves. Dean pecked kisses at your shoulder.

After your twitching stopped, Dean carefully lowered you down on your back and planted himself back on top of you. He kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, and moved down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Hmm." You arched up. He sucked and nibbled, starting a slow thrusting pace. He pulled off one nipple and moved to kiss and suck the other. His hand rested on your waist and held you gently as he started speeding up. You hugged his sweaty back, lazy running your fingers through his hair as he chased his own release.

"Dean." You turned your head towards him and his lips collided with your swollen lips, that he loved to kiss so much.

Dean's hips stilled. He drew his lips away and let out a shaky breath. He buried his head on your shoulder as he jolted, and bucked into you. No words came from his mouth but breathless grunts, whipped against your neck, before a sigh of relief.

He came.

He kisses your shoulder once more. You feel a wet residue as he lifts his head to find your lips. Dean kissed you a lot. You didn't expect that from him.

You weren't expecting some rough hookup, but you weren’t expecting him to be so tender either. He was a tall guy with a deep manly voice. So where did the vanilla come from? Dean didn’t fuck you like you were the chick at the bar he just winked at and fingered in the car. His touches were soft, his kisses were sweet. He even held your hand at one point. Was it you? Did you put out the vanilla vibe? Not that it bothered you. You weren’t complaining because it was still good sex. Amazing sex.

Even after he finished in his condom, he kept a slow pace of thrusting. Like he couldn't get enough of you. It made you feel good. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally good. You’ve been in actual relationships with men and no one fucked you like Dean Winchester.

When he finally stopped shuddering, he rolled off of you. Not far. You felt his hot arm next to yours. Still physically touching you.

It was silent. But a good silent. A bittersweet silent. A silent you were gonna miss when Dean was gone. And the silent is still there. And more lonely.

"You sure you've never done this before?" Dean laughed in the dark.

"Haha." You chuckled. "I'm sure." You could have attempted to joke back to him, but you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say in return. You knew this wasn't his first time. Not with the way he acted. Dean was too comfortable with a stranger's body. He came prepared for it. There had to be other girls. You weren't his first and you aren't gonna be his last. As soon as he leaves here. He'll be in another town. At another bar. Winking at another girl. And you'll still be here. In the silent.

Your stomach started to hurt. But you're 99% sure it's from the stretching Dean gave you. You rolled over to the side, looking for some type of relief. your arm stopped touching Dean's. he said nothing. made no attempt to get up and leave. He just laid there. the two of you did. That must have been when you fell asleep.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. But obviously, you did. Because here you lay now. Pretending to be asleep while watching Dean tiptoes around your studio in the dark, holding his breath, and collecting his clothes one after the other like an arcade game. It’s late. Maybe you should just tell him to stay for the night? Would he if you asked?

Abruptly his cell phone starts ringing.

You slam your eyes close when you hear Dean’s feet patting across the floor. His ringer shuts off and the room instantly falls quiet. You don’t have to see to know Dean is, once again, stuck in place and staring at you for any type of movement.

With your eyes still closed, you reposition yourself and tuck further into your blanket with a sleepy sigh into your pillow. Just to sprinkle a little Meryl Streep into your fake sleep performance. He must buy your act because you hear the wooden floor creak as he starts to walk again.

You peek an eye open to see where he is. You catch Dean slowly pulling the front door open with one hand and holding his heavy boots in the other. He slides out of your apartment, reaching around the door to lock it behind him, before closing it little by little. He was gone just like that. Your apartment falls silent.

_________________________

Likes, re-blogs, and feedback are encouraged. Plagiarism is not. Please don’t. ♡

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatrual #dean x you #jensen ackles #snapplejaxs #black writers

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unicyclehippo · 4 years

Note

Prompt idea? Jester talking to Yasha about "realizing things", as a young/newly queer person wanting advice/acceptance from an older wlw ("whats it like- having a wife?"), and maybe conflicted feelings re beau bc on one hand jes doesnt want to get between beau and yasha if they'd make each other happy but on the other hand she is jealous and isnt her own happiness worth fighting for too??

‘what’s it like - having a wife?’ jester asks. nearly immediately regrets it when the other woman jerks, eyes darting to hers, wide and surprised. ‘i’m sorry,’ she’s quick to say, shaking her head quickly, enough to make her jewellery jangle as the movement tosses them against her curling horns. ‘that’s not - it’s probably the worst thing to ask you right now, and, i mean, you look busy—‘

yasha looks down at her empty hands, around at the largely empty room, and back to jester, eyebrows raised. ‘i am not busy.’

‘oh.’

‘would you,’ yasha swallows hard. gestures toward the other piece of furniture in her room beside the bed, a solid chair. ‘do you want...to sit?’

‘um.’ jester glances behind her, down the empty hallway to the closed door of the room she shares with beau. ‘yes. sure, yes.’

‘you don’t have to if -‘

‘i want to!’

yasha seems to recoil a little at the very forceful show of what was supposed to be casual. she nods. arranges herself awkwardly as though they are about to have an interview, and jester wonders if maybe she’s afraid. just afraid would be bad enough but afraid of what jester might ask, might do because of her answers? that feels bad.

jester forces herself to relax. she closes the door and takes the seat, folds her legs criss-cross and plays for a minute with her skirts, getting the pleats to sit just so.

‘have you been sleeping better?’ jester asks, voice breaking the silence. yasha doesn’t flinch this time, but jester thinks that might be because she’s holding herself too tight and still. like a perfect alabaster statue.

‘ah. yes. caduceus came by with some tea,’ yasha says. ‘he...says some very strange things,’ she adds a little hesitantly, unsure if she’s allowed to comment on his strangeness when she—has done what she has done.

‘oh yeah, he’s great, isn’t he?’

yasha nods.

it’s a bit dizzying, actually, to be watched so intently by yasha. her gaze hasn’t fallen since jester entered the room, and she watches each small motion of jester—the way she brushes her hair behind her ears, the way her tail curls, the way she fiddles awkwardly with the rings on her fingers—but jester isn’t sure how much of it is the other woman understanding that she feels incredibly deeply nervous or, or off-kilter or strange, and how much is yasha watching out for an attack. the intensity is one thing. yasha’s dual coloured eyes are another. jester finds her own attention split between them.

‘we weren’t married for long.’ yasha jerks when jester does. ‘i’m sorry—did you, still want to know?’

‘only if you want to talk about it!’ jester insists.

‘i—don’t mind.’

‘i don’t ever want to make you do something you don’t want to do!’ jester says that forcefully, entirely on purpose. yasha needs to know, she needs to know, jester would never—

‘jester,’ yasha says, her voice low and soothing. her accent breaks jester’s name in two, each spoken with infinite fondness, gentleness. ‘everything is okay.’

for once, jester doesn’t reply to that. sometimes she denies it sadly, other times agrees fervently, but now she just sits in it. yasha is right, more or less. they got her back. killed the Hand. killed obann. things are better than they have been for a long time.

‘we were married at dawn,’ yasha tells her. ‘it was...not romantic. except that it was her, and we were getting married.’ jester can’t sit alone on her chair; she hurries across the room to sit next to yasha on the bed, brings her knees up to her chest, chin resting on them as she listens, bright eyed. ‘okay,’ yasha says, and shifts accordingly. turning her body toward jester and crossing her legs. ‘when you are married in the tribe, you, ah, you make offerings to distract evil spirits from you, so they are not watching, will not curse your union. i delivered a great sacrifice,’ yasha says, almost sounding like she’s trying to convince jester or herself of it. ‘but it mustn’t have worked.’

‘i’m sorry, yasha.’

the woman shrugs. ‘i don’t—there are some things that are missing still. from my memory. but if you have questions...’

‘i don’t know,’ jester admits. maybe she should have written some down. maybe she should figure out why she’s so interested in the first place. probably because if she knows how marriage is supposed to work, why it works, why it is good, she can get the gentleman and her mama back together and they can live happily ever after. or maybe—

‘is this—‘ yasha looks like she has bitten her tongue but she continues very carefully, very quietly. ‘about beau?’

jester plays it very very cool. ‘what? no? why would - did she - why would this be about beau? that’s totally ridiculous and not at all something i am thinking about.’ as she rambles, super convincingly, she starts to wonder herself if maybe she isn’t being entirely...truthful. ‘is it?’

‘i don’t know,’ yasha shrugs. ‘is it?’

jester frowns down at the blanket on yasha’s bed. plucks at It where it is frayed and works for a few minutes at mending those small rips. ‘she—‘ nearly died, jester thinks but doesn’t say, because that, despite the mind control, that was yasha. jester wants to cry all of a sudden. when had things become so difficult? when had she started to think seven steps ahead in a conversation to make sure she didn’t upset, didn’t offend, didn’t hurt her friends? it feels like a cage pressing in around her and she sucks in a shaky breath.

‘jester?’

‘i’m okay.’

‘no.’ yasha—so carefully that jester wonders if the woman thinks she is fragile, about to crack into shards at a too-heavy touch—sets her hand on jester’s. the little mending magic fizzles out with the jolt of surprise, fibres and threads of blanket untwisting and snapping apart once more. ‘you can talk to me, jester. i am—not weak.’ there’s a charge that flickers, over her fingers and behind yasha’s eyes. ‘you are my friend. whatever you say, we can...figure it out.’

it isn’t a question but it almost feels like one. like with the gesture yasha has reached out on two levels, both with hands extended, and is asking for her trust. and jester’s trust is small now and bruised and scratched but she hands it over regardless.

‘she died,’ jester says, flat and pained. ‘or nearly did. and i was so scared.’

yasha nods. ‘you are scared when any of them—us,’ she corrects after a moment, ‘falls. is she...different?’

‘yes,’ jester says, no need to think. ‘she’s my best, my first best friend.’

yasha hums. her expression is blank of judgement but there is a faint air to her like she remains...unconvinced.

jester falters. ‘she’s my best friend, isn’t she?’

‘yes.’ yasha squeezes her hand. ‘tell me, jester, do you think of her first in the morning?’

‘well...yeah. we’re roommates, she’s the first person i see.’

yasha shakes her head. ‘before that. before you even open your eyes.’

jester frowns. yasha seems to be hinting at something, the meaning of which slides sneakily away each time jester tries to grasp it, to find what it looks like, what it feels like, what it is.

‘she snores, so i hear her.’

yasha nods. ‘okay. well. when you are doing, mm, fun things like—‘ she blanks for a moment and then says, hesitantly, ‘dancing?’

‘i love to dance!’

‘okay, when you are dancing, who do you want to be dancing with you?’

jester squints suspiciously. yasha seems to be hinting that she thinks jester’s answer will be beau. and the thing is, of course it is beau! beau would make an amazing dance partner? that’s just natural? she’s taller than jester and strong and lean, with the build of a dancer and when she fights she has the grace of one too. she’s also great at leading and not leading, so that wouldn’t be a problem if jester got carried away and jumped into lead when maybe she shouldn’t. jester explains all of this very matter of factly to yasha, who just nods again.

‘and when you are bored?’

‘nott is very funny,’ jester is quick to point out. ‘and fjord has the best stories of sailing, and caduceus knows so much about so much, and you of course,’ she adds, just to see yasha smile.

it works. yasha smiles very fondly down at her and says, ‘and beau?’

‘beau, no, she isn’t good for boredom.’

‘why not?’

‘because she—‘ because i’m not bored with her, jester thinks. and just shrugs instead. if she thinks the small concession will halt the questions yasha asks, these big seemingly easy but oddly confusing questions, she is wrong.

‘what is your favourite colour? what do you give beau when she is hurt? does she make you laugh? do you want to make her laugh? has sh ever given you a gift? who do you want to be with when you are sad?’

‘that’s too much!’ jester cuts her off, oddly anxious. she jumps off the bed, hurries to put a few yards between them.

yasha doesn’t move to follow, but she watches jester go with a soft expression jester doesn’t recognise.

‘i...thank you for talking to me, yasha,’

‘it was like being more than myself,’ she says before jester makes it to the door. her voice is louder, warmer, richer, and when jester glances back at her, she sees that soft expression has morphed to something...peaceful. deeply sad, but peaceful. ‘i always heard it was two halves of a soul—the man and the woman, joined together. united, a match. but when i met zuala, when we met again and again and spoke, and laughed, and danced,’ yasha’s breath catches and she begins to cry. her eyes close. ‘it was more than myself, what we had. perhaps it was two halves joining, but it never felt like that.’

‘what did it feel like?’ jester whispers when yasha is silent for a short while.

‘terrifying. wonderful.’

‘terrifyingly wonderful?’ jester suggests.

yasha opens her eyes. the tears have leaked a little, spilling down her cheeks, and her eyes—watery, washed out—are clear and bright. ‘she made me very happy, in a time where that was very difficult,’ is all yasha says, and though she doesn’t send jester away, jester can hear that she needs some time.

she steps out with a quiet ‘thank you’ and closes the door behind her. leans back against it. lets out a long, slow breath.

she is still there when beau climbs the stairs, hair slicked with sweat and skin glistening, mottled with purpling bruises. beau grins, lifts a hand.

‘hey.’ her eyes flicker to the door behind jester. ‘everything alright?’

jester stares for a moment. beau is handsome and beautiful—hot, she thinks beau would insist upon—and so much more, and some of yasha’s questions make a lot of sense all of a sudden in a big, important, kinda scary way.

‘jes?’

‘yes. yes, everything is great. just a little chat.’

beau doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway. ‘okay.’

#cr tag #tagging my stories #prompt fill

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kchuarts · 4 years

Text

Flowers in Blood

A/N: This is actually really fun to write!! I am definitely trying to go for a bit slower build with romantic feelings being realized in later chapters. Right now they are just like frenemies of sorts.

Summary: The mission begins.

Warnings: Attempt at assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)*

Chapter 2: Wolfsbane

BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP!

Jonathan’s hand slammed down on the alarm clock, turning the irritating machine off. He raised his head and groaned as it was 4:40 AM and it made him wonder why in the hell he set the alarm that early. Angela told he and Katie to be at her office at 6 AM sharp, but for god sake-

“Five more minutes…” He mumbled, ticking the alarm to ten minutes instead of five like he said so.

He was trying to sleep off his moderate hangover and dull headache from last night after he made the dumb decision of upsetting his partner for the investigation. It was not until 1 AM that Pine decided to call it quits on the partially helpful alcohol and head back. The way that Katie had rushed out after he let slip that he was her brother’s friend and watched him die made him feel horrible. So much for a first introduction of sorts and hoping to form at least a decent bond with the young woman. Pine pleaded to whatever God was listening that the mission they were assigned on would pass by quickly or become cold again. It was rather dark to think that, but he could not deal with the literal lingering guilt at his side. He would have to come up with a way to push those feelings aside and quick in order for their mission to go as smoothly as possible. Just as the thought settled and Jonathan’s eyes lulled shut, the incessant beeping returned with a vengeance and for some reason, it was louder than before. Once again, Pine’s large hand slammed down on the noisy clock and forced himself from the confines of his bed. A shiver ran down his body from the cool air of his room as he stretched his waking body from the stasis of sleep. His blue eyes glanced over to the window and naturally, it was raining. He sighed with slight irritation and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the headache made its presence more apparent. Hopefully a hot shower before he left would help ease the now growing throb of his head.

Unfortunately for Katie, she had not gotten a wink of sleep last night and spent her waking moments dissociating. Logically, she knew that it was not Pine's fault that Cameron had died but she couldn’t help but let herself morbidly blame him for it. Her opinion of Jonathan had quickly changed as did her attitude of working with him as he was a man. She guessed by her reaction, he would show his true colors like all men did once they upset a woman and be an absolute prick. The brunette shook her head and let out a deep sigh, smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” She muttered to herself, getting up and whining from the unpleasant tingle that shot to her feet. Maybe she could convince Angela to let her go on her own? If she told the truth and her discomfort of men? No. She had only met the woman yesterday but she seemed like the type of person to tell you to bite the bullet and stick to it. “Fuck me.” She groaned softly, walking toward the bathroom and shedding her clothes off to shower before she left. Why did she even accept this stupid job? Sure it meant being paid well and going to travel, but she would be risking her life along with another person. If she chickened out now, then all those years of study and training would go down the drain. Katie also assumed that Cameron would be super disappointed in her after she had worked so hard to get where she was now. “I just had to be partnered up with your old buddy, didn’t I?” She asked out loud while scrubbing the chill from her skin with warm water and soap. After spending around ten more minutes in the shower, Katie just about screamed from noticing what time it was. The clock read 5:30 AM and the ten minutes spent basking in the hot water was not ten minutes at all. “Shit!! Wonderful first impression off to a good start!!” she grabbed the clothes that were set out for this morning and quickly shoved them on the best she could as her body was not completely dried off. Katie wanted to hit her head against a brick wall as hard as she could at this point and hopefully knock herself unconscious. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be in her favor was that her suitcase was already packed and good to go. The brunette furiously brushed her teeth and jumped around while trying to pull a sock onto her foot. “MMMGH!!” She clenched her teeth together and almost fell to the floor as she hit her exposed knee on the doorwall. Foamy toothpaste dribbled from her mouth as she shut her eyes tightly and eventually did fall flat on her bottom and cried. She prayed no one heard her or that she woke anyone up, though it was unlikely she did not.

“Perfect, just fucking perfect!” She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth, growling in frustration and shoving her toiletries into her suitcase. “Hi Angela! Sorry I’m like twenty minutes late on my first fucking day of the job!!” She began to monologue and search for her wallet and phone charger. “I didn’t get any sleep last night because of my fear of men and my existential dread over my dead brother-” she fished the last of her needed items out and grabbed the door handle, “because the asshole you paired me with is the guy who killed him-!” Katie’s jaw dropped as Pine had been standing right outside of her door, presumably waiting for her. Her hands flew over her mouth and her eyes quickly fell to the floor from shame. “To answer your question, I heard everything. Even the part about me being an arsehole and “murdering” your brother.” His tone was cool and face unreadable.

“You didn’t have to wait for me…” Katie’s voice became quiet.

“Well I did because I thought that maybe I should apologize about last night and perhaps talk things through. However, it seems apparent that your mind has been made up already.” Pine snapped, huffing and turning on his heel to walk out. Here he thought maybe talking to her would start them off fresh and possibly help to deal with the guilt he felt. Turns out that was not an option in the slightest and further wounded the ex soldier after hearing her rant.

Katie raised her hand to stop him from walking so fast, but he had already left her alone in her doorway. Sighing loudly, the brunette girl did a once over around her flat before locking the door and slamming it shut. She didn’t really give a shit if she woke anyone up now as this mission was already a complete failure.

Naturally, Pine was first to arrive at Angela's office and took the time on his walk to cool off and shove what happened to the back of his mind. All those thoughts were forced back up front when Katie stumbled in five minutes later, panting. Angela’s brows knit together at the girl, “You’re late.” She bluntly stated. The younger woman waved her hand and took another second to catch her breath, shooting a glare at Pine who subtly smirked at her being called out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear to God I am NEVER late-”

“Except for now?” Jonathan spoke sarcastically and raised his brows, amused by how little it took to anger the American woman.

Katie glared at Pine, stomping her way over and pulling the chair aggressively seated next to the man away. Rob slowly lifted his head from some papers to witness what all was happening, keeping to himself. “Aren’t you two just chummy.” Angela muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, “Great to see you took my advice of trying to get to know each other.” She frowned, folding her hands on her desk. “Excuse me!! I wasn’t aware that I would have the displeasure of being paired up with my dead brother’s killer-”

“Killer!? There you go again with blaming his death on me. I did not kill him, Katelyn O’Connor. If you knew half of what went down that day, maybe you would have a different outlook!” Pine swivelled his body around to face Katie.

The younger woman’s nostrils flared, “Really?! Then why was he sent home in fucking pieces!? Did you know we had to have a closed casket funeral that oh by the way, I never saw you, Jonathan Pine, attend?! It is your fault he is six feet underground when you could have saved him!!”

Jonathan stood up abruptly and loomed over the shorter woman who also rose from her seat, half tempted to spit in his handsome face. “You-”

“ENOUGH!! Fuck!” Angela slammed her palms down on her desk and growled. “I swear you two are worse than my fucking toddler! I don’t know what the hell went on last night, but it ends now if we are going to solve this case and bring whoever is running this circus down! I’m sorry to say that there is not anyone else I have to take your places and that you are stuck together. So unless you want to get killed out on the field over personal matters, I suggest you put it aside and at least be civil with each other!” The Director looked at both of them and threw her hands up, “Sit down!!”

Not wanting anymore issues, the agents obliged to Angela’s words but still cast nasty glances at each other. “Now if we are done being school children, I would like to debrief on what is going to happen. Can you handle that? Or do I need to bring out a get along t-shirt?” Angela waited for a reply, but got a silent nod from them instead. Whatever, as long as she got the information out and them on their way. “There has been a new break in the investigation and evidence has been found in Moscow. See here, there are poppies on the arms of victims from over in our neck of the woods and another similar marking on victims across the pond.” Her brown eyes glanced up at Katie before she continued, “However, with the recent uprising with this strange group making a comeback, a new flower is being used. Wolfsbane.” She tapped a picture that was recently printed. Pine quickly snatched it from Angela before Katie had a chance to look at it, causing both women to roll their eyes. “What’s with the flowers anyhow?” He shook his head and gave the picture back to Angela who then handed it to Katie. The Director shrugged, “Haven’t a clue. I suppose that’s just a signature they like usin’ after they finish with a crime.”

“Could have to do with poison.” Katie cleared her throat and handed the picture back. “Poppies and Wolfsbane are poisonous flowers, I’m just making a guess here but I think they’re using those kinds of flowers as a warning that these people are not to be messed with.” She folded her arms over her chest. “No, I thought that maybe they wanted to decorate the crime scene with pretty flowers.” Jonathan shot at his partner who in turn clenched her fists. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angela whined, dragging her hands down her face and growling from irritation. “Sorry, Angela. I think some of us just don’t have the decency to hold back any snark when they aren’t in the spotlight.” Katie smirked and slyly winked at Pine. The nerve of this woman! Pine could definitely see the side of his late friend in her that he absolutely detested. “Right then. Anyways, while I like your theory Katie, the reasoning behind these symbols are still unknown.

If the two have any correlation, report it back immediately. In the meantime, your target is Abaddon Hasapis.” Angela pulled a picture of a very elegant, yet sinister looking woman out. Her hair was curled and frame confident, knowing. Her eyes held a nefarious gleam and bow shaped lips cast a dirty smirk. “I want details on this woman as her name seems to be popping up in each new case that we receive on the Wolfsbane crimes. She is a socialite and often attends auctions, charities and parties for the wealthy. Naturally, none of the money in the charity events actually goes to the intended group. There is a gala in Moscow that she will be attending within the next three days.” Angela took a deep breath in, pursing her lips and looking at her agents sternly, “You two will be attending this gala and are a lovely couple who recently got engaged.”

Both of their jaws dropped slightly and each made a move to complain about their roles before Angela stopped them. “No, no! I will not be having any other interjections! Katie O’Connor no longer exists for the time being nor does Jonathan Pine. Instead, you are Steven Ranger and Natasha Romans. Your hotel is the Metropol and let me just say it was not an easy feat to get reservations. It is around a 10 minute drive from the gala and a bit of a hike should you find yourselves without transportation. I’ve had your measurements marked down and your appropriate attire sent to your room.” She clapped her hands together and raised her brows, sighing quickly. “Any questions before you go? And not about why you’re a couple.” She shot that complaint down faster than the agents could say uncle. The room went silent and Angela looked from Katie to Jonathan one last time before standing up and ushering them out. “Off you go then! As soon as you reach the train, shoot me a text, the hotel give me a call and then keep track of whatever information you gather. You won’t be returning to England for some time so I expect your best behavior. I cannot believe I am having to even say that. Please try not to bite each other’s heads off.” Her arms fell to her sides and she gave a frown. Pine nodded, flashing a small smile “There won’t be any biting since her bark is the worst she can do.”

“PINE!!” Katie smacked the tall man’s arm hard and growled.

“Ah, ah. Steven is my name, dear Natasha.”

Katie had not the faintest idea how in the hell she would survive this mission with this asshole or if she didn’t end up killing him by the end of it.

The way to the train station was relatively quiet for the most part except for the occasional grunt or cough. “Watch where you’re going! Fuckin’ wanker.” A pedestrian bumped hard into Katie and made her turn around, glaring before catching Pine smirk out of the corner of her eye. “You think me getting called a wanker is funny?” She clenched her jaw. Jonathan made a disgusted face, “Please refrain from saying that word ever again. It does not sound right when you say it with your, your whatever American accent. In fact, please refrain from speaking at all. Your voice is annoying.” He felt the girl sock him in the ribs with her elbow and trudge through. As she stomped forward to the conductor, Pine noticed a group of men eyeing Katie up and down while she was too busy being a piss ant. “She yours?” One of them asked, pulling a cigarette from his lips and blew smoke. The men must have seen her little stunt that she pulled earlier. “Ah, no. She’s not. I actually do not even know her, she’s just some rude American. Bloody foreign women, feisty they are.” He lied, giving a curt nod to the men before following Katie in short. They sat 3 rows apart as neither of them wanted to even so much as look at one another. At least now Pine could get some peace and quiet for a bit with the two day trip to Russia ahead of them. Technically, they didn’t have to put on the gag-inducing task of acting like a couple right away, but unbeknownst to them, it would have been wise to do so in the first place.

Pine shot Angela a text before putting his phone away to read up on the case and a book he had brought. He was an avid reader and quite enjoyed Shakespearean works and complicated theories. The book he had brought would serve great entertainment as it was packed with an abundance of Plato’s work. A few more passengers hurried onto the train before it departed, rudely shoving their way through the corridors. “Watch it!” One of them bumped into Pine rather harshly and caused his book to fall. The dark blonde man looked up while grabbing his book at the stranger and scoffed. He thought about retorting back, but decided it wasn’t worth the time to get into a fight when he already knew of the nonsense he’d be bickering over with Katie. Shaking his head, Pine dusted his book off and sighed. Around fifteen minutes had passed since the train departed and a very strong smell of nicotine permeated the air. Normally, Jonathan didn’t mind it as he was an occasional smoker himself. However, it was overwhelmingly pungent and particularly disgusting. Unfortunately for him, the source of the smell was sitting nearby and likely not to change carts soon.

“Hey there poppet.” A rough looking man took a seat in front of Katie, flashing his yellowed teeth. Two more men followed in suit, one of them sitting next to her and causing her to scrunch her nose from the strong odor of nicotine. Her heart began to race as she could practically feel the intention of these men radiate off them. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t mean to be standoffish, but I’d like to be left alone.” Katie’s voice cracked and she turned to look out the window, trying to calm down as past trauma was racing into her bloodstream. “That chap from earlier was right about you American women.” A dirty hand snatched Katie’s chin as the owner forced her to look at him. He licked his cracked lips and eyed her up and down with his soulless gaze, “Pretty one she is though. You may be a bitch, but that makes ‘em all the more fun to toy with.” He chuckled and released her face, grabbing her arm. Katie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She was completely frozen as she felt grubby fingers crawl over her knee and up her thigh. Small, quiet noises of panic were the only thing that could escape her throat as fear came over the young woman. The touches stopped once a tear slid down her cheek and her body flinched hard as one of the men wiped the tear away. “Aww little poppet’s scared. What’sa matter? You still a maiden waiting for the right one?” The third man’s breath was enough to make Katie want to throw up. She shook her head no, unable to speak still and felt the fingers resume their unwanted caresses. Her breath began to pick up and her eyes flicked down as the button on her jeans was undone. “Please don’t-” She muttered, her body trembling as she felt fingers start to slide down her pants. “Please.” She cried softly, shutting her eyes before feeling the touches aggressively ripped off of her.

“Oi! What’s all this about!? You’re that bloke from earlier!! I thought you said she wasn’t yours!! Bloody liar, she ain’t about to be yours no more-”

The sound of Pine’s fist hitting one of Katie’s assailants had everyone in the cart turn their attention to the sudden fight. Jonathan grabbed the other two and tossed them out, bringing his elbow down on the back of one's neck and twisting the arm of the other until he heard a pop. A scream of pain erupted from the man and the train suddenly jolted to a complete stop. Pine grabbed the front of the man who initiated Katie’s attempted assault and growled, “She belongs to no one but herself. Unlike people of your ilk, I actually respect women and don’t fucking touch them without their consent! You would be wise to use the single brain cell in that thick head of yours to exit now considering our interaction has caused an issue. Get. Out. NOW!!” He threw the man to the ground and saw the trio scamper off the train as the doors opened. Police shortly put them in handcuffs before another came in to interrogate Pine. “I’d have you in bars too for what you did, but these three have been a problem for months now with harassing women. Keep yourself outta trouble, will ya?” The officer nodded to Pine before waving to everyone as a signal the situation had been handled. Once the officer departed and the doors shut, Jonathan held his hand out to Katie. “I doubt you want to continue to sit here and reminisce over those pigs. I know we aren’t on good terms but-” Jonathan stopped as Katie took his hand and got up, her bag over her shoulder and her eyes full of tears. The spy nodded and exhaled, leading the way to where he was sitting and helping Katie settle in. It was only until she finally calmed down that the girl released Pine’s hand.

“Why?” She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Why’d you come to my rescue? You hate me.”

“I hate it when women are taken advantage of.” His blue eyes sparkled for a moment as he thought of his late Sophie Alekan. “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Katie. Just because you blame me for that,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “Doesn’t mean that I hate you. Actually, if you would have let me explain earlier I still feel that it was my fault. I have nightmares about that day and there isn’t a moment that goes by where I wish I would have been in his stead.” He looked at her, an honest expression resting on his face.

Katie’s brows turned upward and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Pine-” She closed her eyes and then sighed, “Steven.” She corrected herself, “I’m sorry for what happened i-it’s just it was so sudden and you know how humans are; we have a horrible habit of putting the blame onto someone and-” She stopped as Jonathan waved his hand as a signal that he no longer wished to dwell on the topic. “We can talk about it some other time but right now, are you ok? They didn’t hurt you?” His tone became soft. Katie shook her head and she gave a small, wry smile. “Thankfully, no. I just couldn’t fight back.” She admitted weakly, not wanting to see the disappointment in Jonathan’s stunning baby blues. “Is that why you were so nervous around me yesterday evening? And your flinch when we shook hands?” his question caused her to force her gaze back up. Katie’s pink lips parted as she was flabbergasted at how easy she was to read and nodded slowly. She pulled her arms around herself and swallowed the urge to cry down, “I’ll admit when Angela told me I was working with you, I felt afraid. For two years, I lived in a nightmare and never thought I would escape. By the time I did, I changed.” She rubbed her lips together, unable to stop the tears. “His name is Travis Smithson and he is the man that made me frightened of men and unable to live normally for three years.” she sniffled, wiping her tears and rubbing her face in her sleeve.

Jonathan’s heart sank and he felt the urge to hug her, but did not do so. “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Natasha. You certainly didn’t deserve it…” He made a mental note of her ex's name, stashing it in the back of his head for future reference. “Are you still afraid of me?” He asked softly, leaning forward just a bit. Katie shook her head and gave a shaky exhale before giving him a tiny smile, “No. I’m just mad I’m stuck with an asshole.” She began to giggle and brighten up, causing Pine to smile as well. “Well if we’re going to be on those terms again, then you’re just as much of an arsehole as I am… No, not as much because you’re too short.” He laughed as Katie hit him with her sleeve that wasn’t covered in snot. “Leave my height out of this!!” She smiled at him and chuckled softly at his jeer. “Hey, thank you for rescuing me. Maybe you aren’t as much of an asshole as I thought you were, even if you did call me a bitch to those men.” She smirked and pulled her tablet out. “To be fair, you kind of were acting like one.” He received a playful kick for his comment and shoved her leg away from anymore kicks. “But, I would at least like to make up for earlier and it is the right thing to do. Your brother would have kicked my ass if I didn’t.” He saw a smile at the mention of Cameron. “Yeah he would have. No one messes with Cam’s little sister and gets away with it.”

The rest of the trip went smoothly with Katie and Jonathan coming to civil terms and an agreement to have a long in depth discussion regarding Cameron’s death. “Shit.” Jonathan smacked his forehead and groaned softly to himself. “What? What is it?” Katie became alarmed and sat up from her light snooze. “I don’t know a lick of Russian. Please tell me you know enough to get us by? I did read your file but didn’t see anything about languages except Japanese.” He opened one eye, looking at his younger companion. “Luckily for us, I do. Unfortunately, I can’t read jack shit of it and I only know a few basics. Other than that, we will have to play stupid.” She immediately ate her words as a smirk crept onto Pine’s face. “I thought you already were playing stupid- Hey!!” He laughed as she quickly changed seats to get him into a sort of choke hold and rub her fist on his curly head. Jonathan fought her off after a few more seconds before she returned to her seat. “It says you’re 24 but you certainly act like you’re a teenager.” He mused, raising a brow at her as the train came to its final stop. Katie stood up and smiled at him, shifting her bag “What’s the fun in life acting like a 38 year old who bullies young ladies?” She grinned, watching him pack his belongings before exiting the train with her. “You forgot- Short, young ladies.” his large hand grabbed Katie’s head gently and ruffled her hair before chuckling at her pout. “Watch it, you-” Her smile soon faded as police lights flashed brightly ahead with plenty of caution tape to spare. Jonathan looked behind himself and gently took Katie’s hand, walking fast and attempting to get a glance at the scene. Russian officers kept shouting at the ongoers, telling them to move along and that there was nothing to see. A tarp had been laid out over the apparent victim with their pale arm visible to Katie and Jonathan’s view.

A wolfsbane flower had been carved into the victims arm along with the same flower decorating the scene.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine x ofc #flowers in blood #fanfic #my writing #writing #spies in love

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

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League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 1

A/N: I never actually rated this, I don’t believe, but there’s a little bit of cussing here, I can’t tell you yet exactly which direction everything is going in. I’m predominantly an angst writer and I do have a lot to give to this story, mainly with Chase, just because, plain and simple... I don’t know if that man has really had people in his corner the way that he’s needed in the past, so there’s things to work through with him in particular and there’s always things to sort of try to get over and into in relationship dynamics and moreso when more people are involved than two. Also, at least two of these people are workaholics, so work projects, assignments, flashbacks, etc, will be something that is likely to appear a lot as a backdrop. The work won’t always be things that we, or even sometimes they agree with, but it’ll be there. Tagging only who I heard from last time @kiddangers @sunbeameyes @just-a-j-reallly @supercasperprincesslove-blog Let me know if I need to take you off. Edit: Thunderbolt headcanon from flashback was introduced to me by @famousflowermagazine (You don’t have to read, but I wanted to make sure that I credited your idea)

They’re the Same Picture

Charlotte woke up to the hyper sounds of the excited yipping of puppies and she immediately got out of bed and headed for the courtyard. The caretaker was out there, minding them, but when they saw Charlotte, they rushed back to her and she waved to let the caretaker know that the puppies were coming with her. They were light brown with black ears, and wearing matching little malleable outfits. She brought them to her lab and let the caretaker worry about accepting her guests, because she left her phone in the bedroom and she was not going to pick it up any time soon.

She had one group chat titled Defenders for herself, Henry and Jasper, and it was the most used one in her phone. She had one titled Bionic Forces, for Chase and his siblings, and sometimes Donald. She had been added to that one at one point by Leo, whenever he had to casually ask her a question that she could somehow feel was tied to a catastrophe that he and his older brother, Adam were trying to evade at the Academy (and if she was being honest, one of them probably started), and she didn’t get involved again in that one until after she met Chase and he at’ed her to say that he realized that she had been in this old GC of theirs before. Now, she frequently visited and used it.

She had one titled Elite Force, one titled T-Force, and one titled Danger Force and she hadn’t thought about how many Force teams had a GC with herself and the members, or even the fact that she knew several Force teams, until those three were active and she kept switching between the 3, one particular day. IF. EVER. There was another triple crisis, she vowed that two androids would have to get onto cloned phones and be her, because trying to sort out more than a dozen names and comments for a foreseeable incident was… a mess.

Fortunately, Chase, Max, and Mika each took initiative in their respective chats after a while to be the point of contact and unclutter the chat at the time. But still… There were androids capable of evaluating very accurately exactly what Charlotte might think and say to responses.

She had several GCs that were business related, several that were science-for-fun related, one that was the Bionic Academy mentors, one that was everyone that she knew who had bionics, one that was everyone that she knew who was a superhero, one that was her team of androids, and one that was her lab workers.

She was a busy woman who knew busy people, but she also was the type that liked to be helpful to friends and associates and to keep up with her loved ones and business relationships. So, most of the ones who she had GCs with… They also individually texted with her, as well.

Currently, her most frequent ones were from Henry or Jasper, who truth be told, would likely be texting her frequently for the rest of the three of their lives as lifelong best friends. Almost as frequently though were Chase Davenport and Max Thunderman.

It was a little shocking to her after she met Chase, to find out that they were extremely alike in a lot of ways, considering how differently the conversations she had with each of them went. Chase was always the perfect gentleman. If she mentioned a problem, he would factually assess it, give her stats, numbers, wish her well and ask her to touch base with him later to let him know if his assistance was fruitful.

Max was less precise, but as correct in advice… he could probably give her stats, but knew that they weren’t usually needed and it wasn’t his default to calculate outside of an invention or something where exact numbers were necessary. Also, he was a little more profane.

Whereas Chase might say something like, “I’m sorry that they’re making you jump through these hoops at a place of business. That is terrible customer service. Do they not realize who you are?”

Max would say, “Those guys are dicks. Just drop your name and get ‘em fired.”

Which… was in essence the same response, to her, as their responses frequently were, and yet worlds apart. That was who they were, in her mind too. The same great person presented in two extremely different, but equally attractive ways. She valued them on the same level, though she was closer to Max, because she had known him longer and gone through more with him.

Whenever Max posted his video journal of gadgets and inventions, Charlotte noticed (and this was whenever she was in Dystopia, towards the beginning of the trio’s rise in popularity there), that he had both artwork of Dystress, her alter ego on his wall, and Charlotte Page accolades. News and fanfare!

She honestly lost her shit for a moment and squealed to Henry and Jasper, “This guy that creates gadgets and shares them online KNOWS ABOUT ME!” They had been in the habit of listening to her, but what were the odds of some dude from Hiddenville who posted science projects online for nerdy strangers like Charlotte to wind down, chewing on ice and making comments like, “I didn’t expect that to work out so well. This dude’s a genius!” just knowing about Charlotte, tucked away in one of the most silenced charities in Dystopia?

She pointed out and zoomed in on things on his wall - framed photos of her at gizmo fairs, plaques of her stats in Swellview, etc, and on THE SAME WALL, her with her purple hair and the mask that covered the bottom half of her face, many, MANY shots of her and stories about the mysterious new three Defenders who appeared in Dystopia and began vigilante justice. “That dude knows who you are, Char,” Henry said, worried.

Stressed out, she made a whole account and sent a private message, “So, I saw on your wall that you have the Dystopian Defenders. That’s cool. I like them.”

He almost immediately answered, because he was simply at home, and he was interested in fanboying any chance that he got. “Not so much interested in the Defenders as The Damsel.She’s currently my muse.”

She replied too quickly, “She prefers to be called Dystress.” The she winced and wished she could take it back. How would someone know that? Maybe another hardcore fan? There were a lot of clips of her online...

Well, that had done it. Because, now this complete stranger seemed to be trying to suggest to Max that THEY knew his favorite underground vigilante better than HE did, and before he decimated them, he was curious who he was about to destroy. “Is that something she told you?”

“I’ve heard it around Dystopia...”

He kept up the conversation long enough to trace her IP address and phishing her account. He almost fell out of his chair.“Are you Charlotte Page???”

“WHAT?” She screeched out loud, then typed, “Is that the other Black woman on your wall? You know… People are gonna think that you’re obsessive… or have a fetish... or something unbecoming.”

“I’m a fan. I didn’t mean to alarm you… So… WAIT… You’re Charlotte Page AND you are a Dystress fan AND you’ve seen my series??? This is perfect! This is like a DREAM for me! Or… is this like one of those things where you contact me and tell me that it’s creepy that I have your stuff on my wall? Because, honestly, that’s fair. It’s just… I looked up some of your work and you were super brilliant, but we’d met previously under not so great circumstances, so I didn’t want to be that guy and make it weird, but this is just how I’ve decorated my workspace. I just admire your work, a lot.”

Charlotte had watched --she didn’t know how many of this dude’s invention videos -- Every time she saw his face, a glimmer of a thought that he looked familiar passed through her mind, but his face wasn’t on screen most of the time. The focus would be on his hands and his inventions, so she didn’t notice his face too much. The way that the human brain works, she simply put it out of focus and subconsciously presumed she’d seen his face there, in the videos.

But, now that he said it, she gasped again. Realizing the familiarity, she dropped a phone number. She did NOT want to continue this conversation on the same device he had just hacked, and she had a burner phone on her.

“Hello?” She said. It took him only long enough to pick up his phone and dial while looking at the computer for him to call her.

“Is this real???” He asked. “Are you honestly Charlotte Page?” Before she could even answer, he continued, “I am absolutely freaking out!”

It was a far cry different from the first time they crossed paths, the time that she had remembered only after he made it known that they had before. When he was a little villain-to-be. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at him, but her eyes had at least passed over his face a little, years before.“What do you want?” She asked, through her teeth. “To expose me?”

“Expose?” He gasped and lowered his voice, but heightened his excitement, “Are you some kind of criminal mastermind, because I can totally dig that.”

“I’m…” She looked at the muted video where she had been studying his wall and she realized something. There weren’t photos of each, next to each other. There were no lines, or notes or string... He didn’t know that those were the same people. He didn’t know that she was the Damsel of Distress. He really was... just a fan of both of them. Maybe it was subconscious on his part, but she didn’t feel like he was playing mind games or anything. And… he had powers, so exposing her wouldn’t be wise for him or other supers.

“Charlotte? Are you still there? I’m not gonna expose you, if you were waiting on an answer to that. But, I’ve gotta tell you… I’m a superhero now and if we gotta cross paths while you’re in your criminal phase… I mean… It’ll be AWESOME and like hella fun… but, I’d have to take you down. Duty and all that.”

Now, she laughed. “The Dystopian cops haven’t been able to, but give it your best shot.” There was a long pause and then a longer gasp, then the exhaling and declaration, “CharlottePageisalsotheDamselandIcan’tbelieveIdidn’tnoticeitbefore!”

“I prefer Dystress. With a “Y,” like Dystopia + Mistress… The Damsel of Distress was supposed to a clever one liner and nothing more. Some overgrown goon caught me about to tamper with supplies that we needed to steal from the criminals to give to the kids in our charity, and he said something like, “Looky here, a damsel in distress,” and…”

“And you, a 4’11 (I can’t believe that I didn’t even place your identical measurements to figure this out), you touched your wrist, hulked up somehow and beat him with his own weapon, then said, “More like a Damsel OF Distress,” and it was caught on security cameras. I HAVE that footage. I’ve gotten probably every piece of footage of you that has been recorded. I am not kidding when I say to you, that I am your biggest fan.”

“You’d think that with that wall you’ve collected,” she said, her wide smile evident in her voice. She knew that the kids in Dystopia stanned Dystress. They would tag her name and image all over the place and whenever in costume, girls and women always gave her stuff, sometimes, what appeared to be their last. She would refuse it and give them whatever she had on her to spare.

Dogfight was in essence sleepwalking through battle, so even though he could reply to people (in Spanish), they usually didn’t understand it and generally didn’t talk much to him.

Deflector was just that, on or off the battlefield. Henry had never mastered lying, that much was sure, but found that avoiding questions because he only spoke English, or if they spoke English, simply deflecting the conversation instead of making up something worked better for his mystery and his cover than lying ever did.

Dystress was the one who spoke with the people. She spoke their language. She spoke to them as people. All of the Defenders were heroes to the Dystopian downtrodden, but Dystress was like a motherly hero. She could be both that ferocious bear whose cubs are threatened but she generally delivered the goods while Dogfight and Deflector fought off the criminals. Her covered face and purple ombre locks were what they saw right before they had meals that weren’t drugged to kidnap them or rotten. The image that they saw whenever they got clean socks, soap and towels...

“What are you thinking about?” Max wondered, his voice now soft, having regained control of himself after this wondrous discovery.

“I’m hoping that my secret really is safe with you and I’m appreciating being noticed by someone who I didn’t have to help save, first.”

He smiled, “Of course your secret is safe with me. I admire everything you do, apparently as you and her. I’d never let myself be a threat to you.” She was smiling on the other end and he knew it, but he also knew that this was a Dystopia line and probably a burner she got from a corner shop. He needed a doorway in. He didn’t want to let her slip through his fingers. “I can probably actually help you, you know? I have a lot of resources, with T-Force. Dystopia is a red level city. Every time the Hero League has assigned someone, they either die, quit, or turn, because the crime is like a hydra. It would only take a mention that the heroes there need supplies for me to get approval to bring some.” There was another long pause and he said, “I wish I could see your face right now.”

“You can see it… As soon as we get some supplies.”

“How do I contact you? I know this is a burner you’re on.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this is a burner you’re on and I got your number when you called. Thanks in advance… what should I call you?”

“My name is Max.”

“Thank you, Max.”

“My pleasure, Charlotte.” They both smiled and hesitantly hung up their phones. But, Charlotte was looking forward to seeing “her biggest fan” in person… ESPECIALLY if he was using his power to come with supplies.

After a few weeks, he made good on that. She sent him a list and asked, “Is this asking too much?” He was confused at first, because it was a different phone number, but whenever he saw the list, he knew who it was from and he smiled brightly. “Not at all. I can be there by Friday. Send me coordinates to wear to meet you.”

The Defenders were there. T-Force shook hands with them and commended them on volunteering to take on Dystopia. They unloaded everything onto a trolley and Thunder Man was explaining to Deflector and Dogfight that once everything was out of the transport, his youngest could teleport them to wherever they felt safe to bring it.

Charlotte realized that they had brought twice the amount she requested when she placed the order, and Max added, “We also took donations up from the Hero League and transferred the total into yen, in case something comes up in between now and next time that you need us.”

“You’d do this again?” She wondered.

“For you? Are you kidding?” He laughed, but was silenced when she practically leaped up so that she could throw her arms around his neck. Nobody was paying attention, because the rest were working. He was staring into her eyes, because that was all he could see, and it definitely was enough for him to recognize them from footage of her Spelling Bees and stuff, but, he wondered, “Could I see...” he didn’t get a chance to finish the question and she pulled down her mask, stuck her tongue out and smiled. “I’d do this however many times you need,” he finished.

Since then, they’d been gravy. Chase took much longer to warm up to her like that, and even when he had, his gushing in her presence, was generally due to some exciting news, findings, work, etc. He hadn’t gushed over her like that, and Max did not mind doing so, at all. Really, the fact that she was always comparing the two in her mind was how she came up with this idea to… well… to ask them to come on an adventure with her towards saving the world.

She knew that she could tell Max to do anything and he would say yes and figure out how. Chase would WANT to say yes, but have some questions and need some reasonable answers. He would ultimately say yes, whether or not she was able to provide them, but he would be out of his comfort zone without a fully detailed, full transparency blueprint and trajectory. But, he would say yes no matter what she gave him because, if she knew one thing about both these people, it was that they both trusted, respected, and she hoped, loved her, and they listened to her for these reasons. SO, she would always try to reciprocate it. That was something that she knew that they didn’t always get. Max from knowing him and his family for several years and Chase from mostly Douglass and Leo’s stories. Chase only ever seemed to talk about his attributes and advantages. He never complained about the things that she’d heard about his life. Or maybe, he just didn’t trust her that much yet.

She opened a GC with the three of them and asked them when they could all meet sometime in the near future. Max was getting ready for a furlough and Chase was finalizing another bionic mission team for field work. She was getting ready to take a hiatus on degree work for the first time in 8 years and get settled into her castle that it took 5 years to have built. For reference, it took longer to build her castle than it did to rebuild Dystopia itself, but of course, one of these things she was paying for and the other had been greenlit by a billionaire.

Eventually, the three found where they could make the meet happen and she could hardly wait to share her ideas with them and also just spend time with both of them, instead of having to always divide herself.

Max was visiting, spending his furlough in the castle and Chase was there “on business,” because Mr. Davenport literally never allotted vacations for him, so Charlotte told a half truth about requiring him at her place for a few days for a special project and since they scheduled it after the formation of the most recent bionic field team, Donald approved the request, but reminded him that he would still be on call, if needed.

“Firstly, I need to apologize to you both for the short notice, but whenever I realized that you finally both were free at the same time, I made sure that we could all get together! I’ve… introduced you two before, right?’

Chase raised an eyebrow and studied Max. She had never introduced them, but she talked about Max to him a lot, and pretty fondly from how he recalled. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life,” Chase said. It was partially true. He had not met him face to face or even crossed him in passing. They were once in Dystopia at the same time, but although she planned to introduce them, both had avoided allowing it to happen.

Max said, “That’s your boss’ little kid, right?” Max knew exactly who Chase was. He had read about him, seen his work, talked to Charlotte NUMEROUS times about his ideas, and even was impressed by him, sometimes, But he also knew that there was no way that this dude didn’t know who he was. Therefore, two could play that game. “The one that doesn’t really fight much,” he added for good measure. Chase narrowed his eyes. He fought all of the time, but people often reduced his efforts because he didn’t have feats like the members on his team. He had better feats…

“Chase Davenport!” Charlotte corrected Max and cut him off at the same time, seeing it might turn into a pissing contest if she didn’t rein it in, “Mission Leader of the world’s first bionic mission team, Mentor at the Davenport Bionic Academy, he creates most of the bionic teams that you see on the news during missions!” She proudly announced.

Chase blushed and shuffled his feet bashfully, then said, more confidently, to Max, “I do more than that, actually…”

“Cool,” Max said and made a little sound with his mouth, to which two puppies came trotting into the foyer to him. “Hey, Buddies!” He cheered and began to love talk to the brown puppies with black ears.

Chase wondered, “Oh, you have pets?”

Max collected both puppies into his arms and stood, “Have you not been invited here, yet?” He asked, meaning for it to sting.

Charlotte interjected, “Chase is usually too tied up in missions for social visits, so this is his first time being able to stop by and his first time seeing them.”

“They’re her kids,” Max said.

Chase cleared his throat and wondered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“These are the Swagger twins,” Charlotte clarified.

Chase let out a sigh of relief, then immediately engaged with the puppies, while Max grimaced, still holding both. “They should be about two years old, shouldn’t they? Why are they puppies and not full grown dogs? Also, why are they dogs?” And both pups became toddlers in Max’s arms, causing Chase to flinch a moment, but he still petted both their heads.

“They have shapeshifting bionics with identical coding,” Charlotte said. “Jack had very specific speculations for them. He wanted them to be male presenting, have certain traits from himself and certain ones from Cheyenne, and identical bionics that were allotted for them to transform into dogs. They are currently puppies because they’re too young to realize that a two year old dog would be full grown and probably too small to do it, if they knew it.”

“Why does Jack Swagger want his kids to be able to turn into dogs?” Chase asked, very confused.

Max grumbled, “Because celebrities are weird and gross!”

Charlotte laughed and said, “Jack’s fiancee is Max’s former celebrity crush. He’s been moody since the engagement,” she laughed. “I, on the other hand am DELIGHTED that celebrities are weird and gross. Jack has funded all of my private research on genomic architecture JUST so he can both have perfect babies with his future wife AND also have dogs.”

“Whatever happened to good old fashioned going to a third world country and buying a desperate mother’s kid from her because they’re both starving?” Max asked and scoffed.

Chase, ignoring the rhetorical question, asked, “Why do you have his two year olds at your castle?”

Charlotte shook her head and said, “Oh, these boys aren’t going to go to him. He’s not going to actually collect until I get the formula for the perfect sons who shift into the perfect dogs, with the perfect model bionic chips, and I’m going to take that to create the embryos for their surrogate.” She forced a smile and her eye was twitching, but it was extremely lucrative, if not incredibly privileged and highkey eugenics.

“Weird and gross,” Max repeated.

“Well,” Chase ignored Max again, “Where are they going to go?” He wondered, concerned about the Swagger twins.

Charlotte laughed and said, “Budding Flowers,” like it was obvious.

“That orphanage?” He asked, a little bit horrified.

“It’s really more like a boarding school,” she told him. “And shelter for orphans. People aren’t exactly adopting them.”

“But… these boys are bionic. Aren’t the kids there all… normal?” Chase wondered.

She pointed to him and said, “You are absolutely right! We need a bionics specific orphanage/education center. I propose either in Dystopia or Centium City.”

“Why not on the island?”

“Are you kidding? You think she’s gonna hand her babies over to Davenport after how he raised you?” Max asked.

“Max!” Charlotte hissed and held her hands out like wtf. Chase was definitely a little bothered. Charlotte tried to explain, “Excuse him for that. Sometimes Dougie complains about The Dom whenever we’re hanging but I don’t know WHY Max would bring any of that up!” She threw Max a look. Max looked unbothered.

Chase squinted, “He… knows my Uncle Douglas?”

“He’s your dad, Dude,” Max said.

“Douglas just TELLS people these things???” Chase said, highly upset, now.

“No. It’s mostly been said in what was supposed to be confidence. With the two of them both being on the board of the Max O. Thunderman Rehabilitation & Reformation Metropolis.”

“I like to call it the Maxtropolis,” Max said, smirking with his mouth and his eyebrows.

“And everyone hates when you do,” she teased. “They’ve got stuff in common.”

“You… wait… Your friend Max is ON the board at that place?”

“It’s literally named after me,” Max said.

“Yes, I realized that, but I thought it was because you were a donor or something. Douglas said that board is composed entirely of villains!” Chase said, now on alert.

“Reformed villains,” Charlotte corrected. “Like Douglas, and like Max.”

Chase ground his teeth and stared at Max. He didn’t fully always trust Douglas, at times. He certainly wasn’t ready to trust this very shifty character, so close to Charlotte AND with a villainous past? He REALLY needed to start paying more attention to others, even those that he was writing off. Now, he would have to research and review everyone that came into contact with Charlotte. How many other dangerous possible traitors did she trust in her midst? Charlotte and Max were staring at him and he realized that the puppies were too. Also, that the kids were puppies again.

Charlotte offered, “Let’s go settle into the lounge and sit down.” She opened her hand to let Chase see were the lounge was and she caught Max’s hand and whispered as low as she could, “Why are you antagonizing him?”

“I’m not. I just don’t like him.”

“You haven’t even given him a chance!”

“I did whenever I came in and he started it. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life? You and I both know that waif has seen me before.” She covered her forehead with her fingers and lowered her face at the insult. “Furthermore, I don’t like his sanctimonious song and dance, just because he’s the poster boy for heroes, a position that he has only been granted because bionics in the past few years that they’ve been accepted have taken credit for every superhero’s victories and act like they’re doing us a favor by doing small percentages of the work and capitalizing on all of the victories!” He folded his arms and Chase turned around and looked at them. Max glared at him.

Charlotte noted still whispering, “He has super hearing. I think he’s heard us whispering.”

“I did,” Chase said.

Max shrugged his shoulders, “Where was the lie? Bionics are just non-supes with technology. You’re only special because a madman put technology into you when you were too young to consent.” Charlotte covered her lips with her fingers this time and lowered her face again.

“You obviously know enough about me to continue to personally attack me because of your perception of my position. If that makes you feel better, do it,” Chase said. What wasn’t about to happen was him losing his cool in front of Charlotte, or worst, inside of Charlotte’s home.

She shook her head, “I thought that the two of you would get along. There’s so much greatness inside of both of you, that I see, I guess I presumed that you would see that in each other. I had no idea that there was some kind of superhero vs bionics bad blood in you two.”

“Seriously? Because, I’ve heard that your friend here is pretty anti superheroes. Besides the members of his team, who he’s been openly negative towards (we talk, Bionic Boy), and the only super that you’ve really fully accepted was your sister, after she siphoned a little from Skylar Storm. You had supers right in front of your face, proof of our existence and you berated them and talked trash on them. At least that’s how Sky would tell it.”

“You… know Skylar too? Technically… she’s not a super. She’s an alien. All of her people are like that.”

“Wow. So not the point,” Charlotte said. “Are you actually anti-supers?”

“No! I may have said some of what he’s gossiping about, but I was younger at the time he’s speaking about, probably not much older than he was when he was aspiring to be a super villain.”

“So, NOW you know who I am?”

“I researched the information while the two of you were whisper arguing!” Chase said.

“You knew who the fuck I was when you walked into this castle, Boy! You, the smartest man in the world, who has been betrayed and bamboozled multiple times didn’t do a background search on someone who was going to be staying in the home of the woman you love and meeting up with you for possible business? I’m not the smartest man, but I’m not a dumbass, either. You absolutely looked into me, just like I’ve been looking into you from the first time she mentioned your name. Maybe you could get a fast one on the simpletons you’re usually surrounded by, but Char and I? We're in the genius leagues.”

Chase was breathing hard and eyeballing Max, looking a bit menacing and sort of hovering over him. Chase scanned him over and Charlotte stepped between the two of them, into Chase’s line of sight. He seemed to calm down and she was grateful, because he’d looked pissed and she heard that could make things get really ugly. “I heard your response, Chase and it’s valid. You were younger and didn’t subscribe to the value of superheroes. Max was young and didn’t either! Yayyy! Similarities…” She looked at both of them. They both folded their arms and scoffed, then both groaned because they’d had the same reactions. Getting them on the same page might be a hard sell. But, she had a few days. “Let me show you your quarters, and maybe everyone can have a drink and kinda…” her shoulders slumped and she sighed, unsure of what words to use.

Henry and Jasper had been friends when she met them. Douglas and Schwoz hit it off right away. These two… SHOULD have too. But, they were both extremely pissed and she felt like she’d missed something that she should have considered before bringing them together like this. That argument proved that she missed several things. She was so in love with the idea of them being science bros, she didn’t think about Chase’s trust issues and how they might affect his view of Max. She didn’t think about Douglas telling Max things that she didn’t even know about, like Chase having a past with superhero hate, or maybe just a little bigotry, but, still… She was supposed to be smarter than that. She had been judging both of them with her heart for so long… it just seemed natural that anybody else, especially one another, would adore them too.

“Charlotte, are you okay?” They both asked her in unison. She looked up and both of them looked concerned and a little guilty. They were most likely going to at least squash it for tonight, for her benefit.

“I’m sorry for not doing MY due diligence. I just think, if you two could get past it all, you’d understand why both of you are here with me as I embark on a new chapter. You two were my first choice and it was an equal choice. It wasn’t one over the other, it was… I know that you both bring what I want and need to the table. I want it to be a table of camaraderie.” The men looked at each other with a raised eyebrow and flared nostrils.

“It’s fine,” they both lied. At least she knew that they’d try.

#Henry Danger #Lab Rats #The Thundermans #Chasing Thunderbolts Fic #League of Extraordinary Geniuses #LOEG Update #Nesha Fics #Multiverse Fics

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datingintampafails · 4 years

Text

Chapter 16: Ethan*: Part One

Ethan* was the one where when I said to my friends, “I don’t want to have to write a stupid ‘dating in Tampa’ chapter about this guy…. He’s a good egg.” But here I am, writing it.

I matched with Ethan* on Bumble during a super busy work week, we chatted about things briefly on the app, and I mentioned that I might be able to do a video chat rather than an in-person date easier that week because of my schedule. He agreed to it and asked if that night would work. So our first date is a rather spontaneous video date. I made dinner for myself and was eating it about 20 minutes before our time we picked up, when a piece of mozzarella got stuck in my throat and I was choking. I managed to dislodge the mozzarella cheese stuck in my throat, but was afraid my voice might be weird since I had just stuck my hand down my throat to save my own life.

He had said that he tended to be a little awkward on the phone. Despite the disclaimer, I found him to be perfectly fine on the phone. I told him about my near death experience prior to the call, and we had a laugh about it. We gave each other tours of our homes. He owns his and has completely renovated his place, which is pretty cool. I admired the handiwork of his home, especially the “shiny floors” that he had redone. I learn some quirks about him, such as being homeschooled until college and that he doesn’t like chocolate (weird). He also had mentioned that he was born in Northern Virginia, about ten minutes away from where I grew up and lived there until he was five, before moving to St. Pete. He never had typical pets, but did take care of some squirrels and some lizards, straight Florida kid shit. We ended the call recognizing we got along and generally understood each other. I knew he was 26 but turns out that I was like ten days short of exactly a year older. He immediately after said he was “excited to hang out... soon.” and that we seem to have a lot in common. Agreed.

I let him know that I have some questions for him before that, but that I’ll get to them. The next day, rather than doing that, my friend Lauren inspires me to make a legitimate dating application. I create this thorough Google form, which includes serious questions, as well as some less serious questions which are unfortunately inspired by my previous dating experience, i.e. do you chew with your mouth open? are you a warlock?, etc. I send this to him, and he hesitantly does it after I ask him to. His comment at the end is “I thought this was dumb, but I actually had fun.” From this form, I learn that truly Ethan* does have some similar goals to me. He also doesn’t want children. I ask what people are looking for and he responds with “Unsure yet, but I am open to anything from casual friends with benefits all the way up to a long term relationship if we are a good match. I don't have any future goals but I enjoy companionship and sex and seek these out in a partner.“ Seems like a fair expectation, which is kind of where I am at too. I send that same application to different people that I’ve matched with at the time, but Ethan* is definitely my front runner.

This guy didn’t really match up to my usual douchebag energy guy I usually go for. He was a college athlete, wide receiver and ran track, and definitely still kept up with his physique. He had curly bronde hair that was slightly receding on the sides, a six-pack, and nicely sculpted shoulders and back. I knew ahead of time he was on the shorter side, that is, not over six feet tall. He owns a boat and also has a pilot’s license and flies planes for fun. Things that were definitely unique and super cool. He asked me if I would ever go flying with him, to which I enthusiastically said that would be cool. He didn’t know that learning to fly is also something on my bucket list, I would actually never have the chance to tell him.

That weekend, a few days after our virtual date, I was finally done with my marathon of working long days and said I would be down for meeting up. He mentions his plans with his friends were canceled that night, and we decide to do something that night. I let him know I have an appointment and can come over after that, around 6. We discuss what we are going to do, we decide on a night in. I suggest tacos, however, he responds by asking if I like Chipotle. I inform him that since we live in a place where there are much greater options for local taco places, which aren’t Chipotle and basic, we should get that instead. He then suggests a place by him we can go to, and we agree on that. However, this is also coming from a guy who said Papa Johns was his favorite type of pizza. With pineapple.

I go for a comfy but not trying too hard look for that night. Some athletic leggings from Uniqlo, and a crop top. Ironically, I believe that exact ensemble is in one of my photos on Bumble, in hindsight. I excitedly text him about it being 7/11, which is free slurpee day, and ask if we can go. He says there’s a 7 Eleven by him that we can go to. I finished my appointment, which was actually a lip and eyebrow wax, and drove to his place. He asks me to park on the street so that he can drive his car to the taco place, and I sarcastically tell him that he’s going to have to drive around my car in the driveway. I then mention I’m on the way and will see him soon.

Usually, by the time I am going to meet someone in person, I have given them my number or other ways to contact me outside of the original app. My friend had suggested to me that I try to stay on these apps communication wise, until a successful first date. I was trying to follow this advice and since Ethan* and I were still communicating exclusively on Bumble, I was following that advice. Granted, he hadn’t really asked me either to change communication methods, so it worked out.

I message him “Aqui” when I pull up to his house, and as I start to get my things out of my car he emerges from the front door to greet me. Immediately as I walk up and analyze him, I feel bad as a wave of disappointment falls over me. He in no way lied about his height on his profile, but definitely I overestimated how tall his height was. Otherwise, he was 100% authentic and who he said he was. He meekly asks about my appointment and if everything is okay, specifically asking if it was a doctors’ appointment. I admit I was actually getting a wax, then he compliments me saying that my brows look really nice and he otherwise wouldn’t have said anything as it would seem weird.

I then say I’m hungry and we should go get food. I get out to his car, which is a super nice Jeep Grand Cherokee, with a leather interior. Despite the nice car, I look down at the floor of the passenger seat, which is entirely covered in discard receipts.

I mention this to him, and he gets super embarrassed about forgetting to clear his car before I arrived. Upon looking at the receipts as I help him clean, I recognize many of them are from Taco Bell. We bond however over the amazingness of Baja Blast being the ultimate drink. I insist we go to 7 Eleven first to get our slurpees, since I don’t want the food getting cold/soggy. We find out it isn’t really free slurpee day, due to COVID-19, and instead it’s a get a medium free next time with your membership there or something. So I get a medium anyway, so at least mine is free.

Next, we pull up to the taco joint, which is basically you walk up to a door to order. We discuss the menu and agree that fish is gross. He orders for us both, which I love, and sit briefly at a colorful picnic table outside of the restaurant. We are there not even one minute, when he asks if we can go to the little market that’s next to the restaurant. I say sure, and we browse the market. He picks up some apples and some grapes, and we just sort of look around. We are joking around and I quiz him on the “best type of apple,” which is sort of an inside joke at my full time job.

He finishes his purchases and we sit at a different picnic table, while waiting again for our food. They bring it out and we take it back to his place. In the car he’s going between rap and pop music. I’m more or less into anything but country, so it’s a fair vibe. I figure since he was on a football team, that was probably what he was used to listening to in the locker room.

Now that we’re back at his place, I excuse myself to the restroom. A man’s private restroom always says something about the man. Does he clean his bathroom? How many products does he have? Does he have that singular shampoo/conditioner/body wash combo bottle in his shower? His toilet definitely could use a scrub, same with his shower, but otherwise pretty well kept and he had separate products in his shower.

I’m still feeling iffy about the guy due to his height, and when I sit down on the cough with him, he asks if I like South Park. Unfortunately we find out that South Park has been taken off Hulu and so we look for a back up. Then he asks about Rick and Morty; I love that show, so we turn that on for us to watch while we eat. He too is a couch eater, which is good since his dining table literally has no chairs around it.

We share some laughs, we eat the food, we drink the slurpees. Once there’s no longer food to eat, he asks if I want to cuddle. I say “uhm okay.” I remember a message he had sent me the day before where I said I hope he doesn’t try to cuddle in my lap like my dog, and he had responded “what if I did? jk. but really do you like to cuddle?” And I’m wondering if I’ve gotten myself into a stage 5 clinger situation. Somehow I become like the guy, as he is nuzzled onto my belly and I have my arm around him. Later he asks to spoon, and I’m like yeah that’s fine. As I’m sure that’s less awkward than what we’re doing now. Though if I wasn’t so uncertain about him, the previous position probably would have been cute and endearing. While we were cuddling, we talked about goals and briefly about my application. He talks more about how he flies planes on the side, and that his goal is to join the National Guard as a pilot. The cut off is 32, so essentially he wanted to gain more and more flying experience so he could join before the cutoff. I have never really been particularly interested in being involved with someone in the military, so that was almost a turn off for me. However, I did this it was good that he had solid goals he was continually working on.

Regardless, I’m still having a good time. He’s a nice and entertaining guy, and we mesh well. It starts to get late, so I mention it’s time I go. Before I leave, I remember we have still only been talking via Bumble, I ask him for his number. I then realize I also don’t know his last name, so I also ask for his last name. I realize his initials are “Eh,” which I find humorous, so I text him “eh” to let him know it’s me. Which also described how I was feeling at that moment.

He then walks me to my car and I give him a hug, and then he kisses me. Even though I wasn’t really feeling kissy after this date, I realize it is actually a really nice kiss and tell him I’ll let him know when I get home. I think back to Aaron* where he wasn’t the best kisser, and think oh well that’s nice.

I get home and stew over the date, thinking about what I’m going to do about this guy. He texts me the next day saying “Would it be bad if I already wanted to see you again tonight?” I tell him I have plans, which isn’t a lie, I do, and let him know I’m free the next night. We set up another hang out at his place.

In my mind, I determine the way I’ll figure out my feelings is to sleep with him. “If the sex is good,” I think to myself, “then that should get me over the height thing. And if it’s terrible, then I’m outtie anyway.”

#tampa #dating #tampabay #st pete fl #florida #love #bumble #relationship

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baldwin-montclair · 4 years

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Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 13)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY with some S2, Shadow of Night and Book of Life.

Summary: Whilst Baldwin deals with business away from Sept-Tours, Alisha copes with his absence and the impending wedding.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326 @simplytimeless @wonderlander594

The Story So Far

Alisha tossed and turned for two hours after Baldwin’s departure. She would never have imagined that sharing a bed with someone for just two nights would so spoil her for when she was then left to sleep alone.

Getting comfortable seemed like an impossibility, she was either too warm with the covers over her or too cold without them, she missed the heat regulating coolness of her vampire’s skin and the feeling of safety in his arms. The loss of this made her think of the first time she had it, their first night as husband and wife.

When he was so initially so gentle he seemed almost fearful that he’d break her if his movements within her were too insistent.

Tormented by the memories of their various intimacies, she gave up on the fruitless quest for sleep and instead got up, pulling on her underwear and Baldwin’s discarded shirt before wandering over to a small table where Alain had placed the chest containing her ‘dowry’.

Alisha picked it up, finding it surprisingly heavy, and brought it to Baldwin’s desk where she sat and opened it once more.

She gradually emptied the contents onto the desk, the folded papers that spoke of wealth contained in both stocks and properties, and, the glittering jewels.

With everything on the table in front of her, she noticed an old parchment style letter complete with seal.

Madame De Clermont.

The name on the front was not written with either a ballpoint or a fountain pen. It was clearly a quill, making the letter old, how old she wasn’t was sure.

In truth, she’d never opened a letter like this before and tried cracking the seal with the Ouroboros depicted. That then allowed her to unfold the parchment and frown at the almost unintelligible writing.

It took a moment to focus on the characters before she was able to decipher it.

Daughter,

The fact that you are reading this should already inform you that I am no longer of this world and greatly regret not having had the chance to meet you.

I write this letter in the hope that it will one day be opened although I have long feared it will not be. If I am wrong in this, please know that there would be no-one more delighted to be mistaken than I.

My wife will guide you in what it means to be Madame de Clermont, she is my right hand, as my son will need you to be for him. Heed her advice in all things as she knows well how to manage difficult men. Love and obey my son and you will find no greater, nor more loyal a protector.

Let me also take this moment also to stress that it does not matter to me whether or not you are of our kind, nor is it a prerequisite that you be changed. Even an old man can learn when he is wrong, and, consequently, hope that his past folly has not deprived a most beloved son of his happiness.

If Lucius loves you and you love him, you both have my blessing.

Your Grateful Father,

Philippe de Clermont

Alisha sat back in the chair, pulling Baldwin’s shirt tighter around her in a vain attempt to feel close to him, much in the same way she’d given him the ribbon.

Oddly, she no longer noticed an aroma of church incense on him as she had when they first met, clearly he’d just attended mass with a liberal use of the cloying smoke.

Now, his burning campfire scent mixed with the notes of rich leather served to perfectly sum him up, both attempts to control and utilise nature, conquer it, prove oneself above it.

Civilised.

As soon as there was light, Alisha was ready for her walk, just around the grounds of the fortress but enough for the cold November air to keep her alert.

The place was peaceful and she didn’t encounter another person, for around ten steps, when Gallowglass jogged out the door behind her.

“Mind if I join you, fancy a walk!” He asked the question that was in no way a question.

“I don’t mind, and I’m sorry.” She glanced across at him.

“Sorry?”

“Baldwin has put you on me-sitting duty whilst he’s away,” she smiled and shook her head when he opened his mouth to protest, “don’t worry, I’m not about to make your job harder. In fact, tell me what his command is and I promise I will help you stick to it.”

“I’m grateful for your offer Auntie, but a command from Baldwin is no a thing that bears repeating.”

“Alright,” she thought to herself, “then give me the jist.”

“The jist,” he stroked his scruffy chin in thought, “is that whilst you are outside, I am not to let you out of my sight.”

“Wow,” she whistled, “that’s more restrictive than I thought it would be.”

“Really?”

“Yes, who’s going to step foot on De Clermont land?”

“There are other ways to snatch someone than on foot.”

“There’s really not.”

“Please tell me you know that some witches can fly?”

She laughed at this.

“What, like on a broom? I think you’re making fun of me.”

“No broom needed, I’ve seen it, I swear!”

“Okay,” she regarded his expression, and believed him, “good thing my only threat comes from a vampire and not a witch.”

“When the congregation finds out about you and Baldwin, the only creatures who wont resent you will be your own kind, and us here, obviously.”

“I appreciate that, and you’re being so welcoming, even if having to follow me around is kinda super unfair to you.”

He had to chuckle at that but even through his cheerful exterior, there was a hint of sadness.

“Trust me, it’s not the least fair task I’ve been given,” he shook his head and the cloud of heaviness dissipated, “and what else am I going to be doing?”

“Planning more mischief with Marcus?” She suggested.

“Unfortunately not, Granny’s sending him to London to collect some miniatures from an auction house.”

“Well, since you’re stuck with me, I have a question for you.”

“Hit me.”

“Do you remember a party here in the past? Something to do with Baldwin’s father and his support for a French King.”

“Henry of Navarre?”

“Yes, were you here?”

“How do you know about that?” He asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“The tapestry, Marthe didn’t know much about it because she and Ysabeau weren’t here. So, were you?”

“I was.” He admitted.

“Then you’ll know, why was the tapestry moved, what happened at the party?”

“It wasn’t a party, Cicogna, the Venetian Doge brought his entire court, they were supposed to be here for a week but one of his musicians was killed. It was blamed on a spy in Sixtus’ retinue. Grandad gave his support for Navarre anyway. Nothing really happened.”

“You count a murder as nothing happening?”

“Just one murder? Aye!”

“Then why did he have the tapestry moved?”

“No idea, Why do you want to know?”

“Honestly?” She asked him.

“Yes.”

“It’s a mystery, I have a fraction of a story and it drives me a little crazy.” She confided.

“So you married a notorious secret keeper?” He asked.

“Fair point,” she smiled.

“Auntie, the past is not something you need to worry about, you’re his mate and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you Gallowglass.”

Alisha couldn’t help but recognise the strangeness in his statement.

If the present mattered because she was indeed Baldwin’s mate, she wondered what happened in the past that, according to Gallowglass, she needn’t worry about. It did make her think on Philippe’s words, to what ‘past folly’ was he referring.

Perhaps she really wasn’t getting to quench her idle curiosity and decided it not worth causing upset just to learn some gossip.

“So, wedding?” He changed the subject.

“We’ve agreed to give the go ahead.”

“I know, Baldwin spoke to Granny earlier, you did well to escape without her catching you.”

“He called, earlier?”

“Yes, and no, you cannot speak to him or see him before the church.”

“What,” it was her turn to stop, “I can’t see my husband for how long?”

“Jesus, the wedding’s in two days, I’d happily take not speaking to your husband for two millennia if it was on offer.” He chuckled.

“Two days?” She asked, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks.

“Granny works fast, I think she made most of the arrangements before she even got off the phone. We do have a seamstress on staff mind you, so that won’t be a problem, just do as Victoire says, she’s the one with the sewing needle.”

He stopped, his expression turning to one of concern.

“Aw hell, here,” Gallowglass directed her over to a low wall, “sit there, head between your knees before you faint on me.”

She followed his direction without argument, as he hovered nearby, not sure what to do. The vampire custom was clear on not touching the mate of a higher rank vampire but his compassion was at war with this rule.

“Maybe the whole wedding thing has made more of an impact on me than I thought,” she agreed, “are you all religious?”

“Both myself and your husband were pagan, Baldwin obviously much earlier, but Philippe would not have that, we would be Christian, serving one master.”

“God or Philippe?”

“They were both one in the same, I think he could relate, one heavenly father overseeing his children, and he did inform most of the Church doctrine.”

“You’re telling me that Baldwin’s father wrote the Bible?”

“No, I’m telling you that Grandad had a very firm hand in deciding which accounts made it into the final canon.”

“That is...terrifying.” She admitted.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t ever concern you just how much power and influence your family have had over the past two thousand years?”

“Closer to three thousand, and it’s your family now too Auntie.”

She nodded gravely, the responsibility Ysabeau had mentioned suddenly becoming painfully clear.

“Come on, you need to eat something.”

Alisha had no idea how much of an event breakfast was in Sept-Tours, tea, coffee, juice, bacon, eggs, pastries and so much fruit.

She couldn’t do much more than pick at croissant as the table bustled with conversation between every inhabitant of the fortress.

“Isn’t there anything I can do to help?” Alisha asked Ysabeau, who was sitting with Margaret on her knee, the child staring adoringly up at the vampire.

“It is already in hand.”

Alisha had the sneaking suspicion that Ysabeau already had most of the arrangements made before they arrived at Sept Tours, and knew that her step-son would relent.

“After breakfast we will have Victoire make some preliminary measurements for your gown.” Ysabeau’s eyes drifted to the different coloured ribbon around Alisha’s wrist, a ghost of a smile on her expression.

“Have you invited my aunts,” Marcus asked her, “and my cousin?”

“Baldwin will notify Miyako himself but I have invited Verin, Stasia and Freyja.”

“Aunt Fanny’s already in France, she’ll be here before the wedding, I guarantee it.” Marcus smiled, looking forward to seeing Freya.

“What about your father, Marcus? Matthew and his wife...Diana? Are they not coming?” Alisha asked him, causing a weight of silence to fall over the table.

“They won’t be able to make it, unfortunately.” Ysabeau answered.

She realised that Baldwin hadn’t actually told her what had happened with them.

Judging by Ysabeau’s tone - and the way everyone was suddenly studying their breakfast - now was not the time to find out.

“Where is the ceremony happening?” She asked instead.

“Saint Lucien,” Ysabeau seemed relieved by the change in topic, “it will be a Catholic ceremony, if there are no objections?”

“N-no, of course not. What can I do to help?”

“You can learn the Latin phrases you are expected to say and under no circumstances are you to speak with or see Baldwin until the wedding.”

Her cell had been broken by Christina several days prior and without a replacement, it would be easy for Ysabeau to enforce this rule.

“I understand,” she accepted, “and I want to thank you, for everything you’re doing for us, I really appreciate it. I’m sure Baldwin does too.”

Ysabeau almost corrected her, she was keeping a promise, nothing more.

“You are welcome,” she said instead, surprised that her rules had not prompted an appeal against them.

Ysabeau’s gaze was that of appraisal, like she was sizing Alisha up for some unknown purpose, task, role.

The rest of breakfast passed in general conversation until Victoire arrived to collect Alisha for her fitting.

Ysabeau watched until she was gone.

“I do hope Freyja is on her way,” she told Marcus, “if Verin and Stasia arrive first, they will eat that poor girl alive.”

“To get an accurate measurement, you must take those off.” The vampire told Alisha.

“O-okay.” She answered, hesitantly removing the warm, bulky sweater, jeans and vest until she was standing in just her underwear.

“Our priest is...conservative, which means that there will be no bare shoulders or arms.” Victoire decreed as she measured around Alisha’s waist.

That’s when she remembered, the very obvious hickie on the inside of her thigh that she’d noticed in the shower that morning.

She could only hope that Victoire either did not see it or would be too polite to mention it.

It had been acquired during Baldwin’s deliciously cruel teasing the night before, clearly it was some primal impulse to put a physical mark of his claim upon her.

“I don’t mind,” Alisha rushed to protest, “I trust you, with the design.”

In truth, she just wanted the two days to be over and was willing to do whatever it took to make them pass as smoothly as possible.

She started to believe Baldwin was mistaken, about the mate bond, it didn’t just lie with him. When he left, she felt a distinct tug at her heart that was, throughout the day, starting to feel like a vast chasm was opening up, hollowing her out.

“You will be beautiful on the day Madame, I guarantee it. You shall even render Sieur Baldwin speechless!”

Just as she was about to respond, the door to the room opened and a tall, blonde and stunning vampire entered.

“Um, hi!” Alisha greeted, still standing, in her underwear.

“Freyja,” the woman answered simply, as though that was explanation enough, “do you know who I am?”

“Baldwin’s sister?”

“One of them,” she answered with a smile, giving Alisha a frank up and down appraisal, “I’m here to help prepare you for the ceremony.”

“Ysabeau said I have some phrases to learn, in Latin?”

“You...do not speak Latin?”

“No.”

“French?”

“Nope!”

“I suppose it would be pointless to ask how familiar you are with Ancient Greek?”

“Not pointless but the answer would still be nuh-uh.”

“I assume Baldwin chose me as your chaperone due to your...unfamiliarity with our ways.”

“But Gallowglass-“

“Is your guard, do not leave this building without him.”

“Yeah, he already warned me of the hazard that is flying witches.”

“Good, dear Matthew’s mate Diana was taken from here by a witch, one who possessed the power of flight.”

“What happened to her?”

“Tortured, they were lucky to get her back alive.”

“They?”

“Matthew and Baldwin mounted a rescue. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.“

“I’m sure he will, he simply does not want to worry you with inconsequential threats. Baldwin has no patience for fragility, of body or of spirit but you seem to be the exception.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“Of course you are, and I am not saying that as an insult. You’re a warmblood, a musician too I hear. Not a warrior but we have enough of them in this family already. We will find a role for you, one that will suit your sensibilities.”

“A role? I’m getting married, not applying for a job.”

“Everyone in the family has a role, a purpose that furthers the de Clermont cause.”

“I though my role would be to support my husband.”

“Would that be enough for you? Would you not like to carve out your own function?”

Freyja’s words resonated, she never really thought about her place in the family beyond that of an extension, attached but not entirely a part of it.

“What role could I possibly fulfil that has not already been taken?”

Freyja’s smile was triumphant.

“We can figure that part out together!”

“Is that why he asked you to help me?”

“I have some more modern ideas when it comes to preparing the uninitiated for their new life. Verin and Stasia would not be as patient, I’m afraid. He must really care for you, to admit that a kinder approach is sometimes appropriate. My brother does not like to admit when he is wrong.”

“And Did he?”

Freyja snorted.

“Of course he didn’t, his request for my assistance was admission enough.”

“I have what I need for now Madame, we will have a fitting tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Victoire.” Alisha gave the woman a grateful smile.

“Wait,” Freyja told Victoire whilst keeping her eyes on Alisha, “I assume you would like to keep the dress intact after the wedding?”

“I would, yes.” Alisha agreed.

“Victoire,” Freyja turned back to the seamstress, “please keep that in mind when you are devising the fastenings. A newly mated pair kept apart for two days and nights, too many buttons and the dress will not survive.”

Alisha stifled a smile at the vampire’s candour as she pulled her clothes back on before Victoire left them.

“We need a man to give you away at the ceremony.”

“I’ve probably spent the most amount of time with Gallowglass so far-“

“It cannot be Eric, or Marcus, Baldwin’s their uncle. Ideally it should be a daemon.”

“The only daemon male I know is Nathaniel.”

“Perfect, ask him. It should also help with securing the daemon’s vote in the congregation, their leader is his mother after all!”

Alisha read over Philippe’s letter for the tenth time, taking time she should have been using to get ready for dinner. Meal times seemed to be an event in general in Sept Tours.

There was something regretful in the words of the deceased patriarch, guilt too, perhaps. Still, sitting at the desk was not going to urge her up to get ready and she reluctantly stood.

At the door to the shower room she heard a noise, the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating, the cell phone Nathaniel had given her - alongside his agreement to give her away - ringing on the bedside table.

“Is everything okay?” She said as she answered the call, already knowing, in her bones, who it was.

“And hello to you as well Sweetheart.” Baldwin’s tone was teasing.

“Two days Baldwin! Our wedding is in two days.”

He was silent for a moment then sighed.

“I know,” he admitted, “Ysabeau works faster than even I give her credit for.”

“Surely you’ll be back by then, I’d kind of like you to be there!” ”I will be, I promise.”

“I hope so, Victoire has already measured me for my dress.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, and luckily your mark went unnoticed by her and Freyja.”

“Mark?”

“Let’s call it a token of affection,” she rolled her eyes, “that you so kindly bestowed on me last night with your merciless teasing, on your desk.”

“Ah,” he answered in understanding, “I am sorry, I forget how easily warmblood skin bruises.”

“So it wasn’t deliberate, a plan to mark your territory?”

“When I’m between your thighs, I don’t have the presence of mind to formulate a plan.”

“It’s really mean to talk like that when you’re so far away and I’m all alone in a big bed tonight. I might have to please myself.”

“Do something for me.”

“Record and send it to you?”

“N-“ he stopped.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Stop,” she giggled, “what were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask you to wait. There’s no way Ysabeau will let me near you until the wedding anyway.”

“Are you asking me to ‘save myself’ for you because that ship has hoisted anchor by this point.”

“Two days, wait for me?”

“I can do that,” she agreed with a smile.

He went silent for a moment.

“Baldwin?”

“I’m sorry, for almost depriving you of this wedding. Everything happened so quickly I just didn’t think having this was something I-“

“Needed?”

“Deserved.”

“You’re a good man Baldwin, you deserve to be happy.”

“Good men don’t live as long as I have.”

She wasn’t sure what it was about conversation over the telephone that lent itself to such openness from him. Still, the sound of a door being knocked on the other side of the line stopped her from answering.

“I have a meeting before the Congregation hearing so I must leave you now Sweetheart.”

“Then go be big boss man,” she encouraged, “try not to kill anyone, and remember that I love you.”

She hung up just as Freyja breezed into the room.

“I would turn that off and hide it if I were you. Ysabeau is very strict with rules!” The woman headed straight for the wardrobe.

“I have to go wash up.” Alisha got up and made her way to the door, hearing his voice made the separation much more difficult and she had to pull herself together, preferably not in front of her sister-in-law.

“Take your time,” Freyja stated with sympathy, “no red eyes at dinner, and I’ll leave this dress out for you to wear. My sisters will be in attendance and I will help you make a good impression.”

___

PART 14

#baldwin montclair #baldwin de clermont #adow fic #baldwin’s nightingale #adow baldwin fic #baldwinmontclair

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character-scrolls · 4 years

Text

Miscellaneous Headcanons: Jinx - TSM (Soften Edition)

Enjoy some cute headcanons of some of my Jinx beans <3

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - No doubt about it, Jinx would have a book review channel and it would be as cute as heck.

- An incredibly fluffy and sweet vibe, she'd have a large bookcase in her background with cute fairy lights draped over it, maybe some miniture cactus plants sat on some of the shelves.

- Probably uses some soft music box as the background music or something that relates to the book she's reviewing that week.

- Jinx would mostly be a solo reviewer but she might occasionally bring on someone for a collab

- She has gotten some god awful book suggestions, some she does reviews and some she'll outright refuse to do

- Her channel would probably be something like Bookworm or The BookWorm

- One of her videos showcases a mini tour of all the books she's gotten over the years, she's slowly running out of floor space.

What kinda blog would they run? - PASTEL.COLOURS.FOR.DAAAAYS.

- Jinx's blog is dedicated to all things literature from fiction to non-fiction

- She could talk for hours and hours about her favourite authors and the books she's read that week

- Jinx takes photos of her reading space which is normally a comfy chair with a little side table with her current book and a cup of fancy tea steaming next to it and her reading glasses resting on top of her book.

- Though in reality it probably ends up with her sitting up in bed until god knows what time whilst spouting the false promise of 'yes this is the last chapter I'm going to read I swear' wheather that's a book or a really good fanfiction on her ipad that's upto you.

- Jinx's posting shedule would be at least twice a week, depending

- Would for sure have a side blog for fanfiction

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Jinx would be a cute little ghostie for Halloween

- She's not one for being scary so cute is the next best thing

- Jinx would do her best to hand make the costume, it wouldn't be the neatest but hey ghost aren't meant to be

- The costume consists of a white robe with oversized sleeves covering her hands with a lacy hood over the top and short chains would be attached around her ankles

Who would they cosplay as?

- Jinx would for sure cosplay someone like Yuna from Final Fantasy X or Howl from Howls Moving Castle

- She would try and get a high quality costume, trying to get the most accurate looking one

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - A gooey chocolate chip cookie, because she's a soft that is all

What type of tea would they be? -A cinnamon blend tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - A sweet red wine

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - For sure, a spellcaster deck probably based around the Silent Magician

- Not just for the obvious reason...also by how it's played

- Not seeing her with any other type

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Possibly Fairy? I'm not entirely sure because they're a number of pokemon I see her having in her team, I have considered like psychic for another option?

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

- Maybe a sheep? a cute little purple sheep

- Has the cutest cottage aesthetic going on

- Will gift you many, many, many books

Aesthetic: leather bound books, ink stained parchment, burning candle light, dark blues, pastel pinks and purples, empty potion vials, soft touches, sweet smelling purfumes, crytals, the glittering particles of magic, grubby bandages

Extra headcanon:

- The fiction she read throughout her years helped her discover her bisexuality, she had read so many books with different heros and their romantic endevours that it had a profound a effect on her. At first she didn't understand why she liked boys but also girls??? fiction helped her to finally understand that it was perfectly normal to feel like this.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ruben - Jinx: TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - This boy. THIS BOY. His channel would be a disaster , but a wonderful one..he's trying

- Ruben would do a lot of dumb but harmless challenges, but it would radiate pure chaotic energy

- He's a gremlin with too much time on their hands lets be real here

- Ruben would do a lot of collabs, which are even more diasterous than his solo videos depending which poor soul he asked

- he edits like it's going out of fashion, jumpcuts galore and dumbass sounds effects for days.

- He has a sizable following

- He would for sure drag his boyfriend in for a video...for a price

What kinda blog would they run? - Like this Youtube channel, it's chaotic but is slightly more structured

- Being a avid comic reader, his blog is centred around comic books

- Will have full-on arguements with other people about which character is strongest/best/weakest etc

- "Now you listen here you litle shit, YOU DON'T-"

- His blog is fairly simple in terms of colour scheme, possibly using themes available to him

- Has an inconsistant posting shedule

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Probably a skeleton, surprisingly good at face painting

- He'd use face/body paint for his neck area and hands

- Contacts maybe?

Who would they cosplay as?

- Would for sure cosplay as Beast Boy from Teen Titans, feel like that would be the type of character he'd go for

- Maybe with full-on body paint too?

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - Ruben would be like one of those giant biscuits with the chunks of m&ms baked into it

What type of tea would they be? - Iced lemon tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - Apple Cider

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? -Elemental Hero deck maybe?

- His love of super heros would play a part in why he chose it

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Possibly flying?

- Has for sure named one of his pokemon Jeremy

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

-Possibly a squrriel

-Has a mis-matched house because who hell is interior decorating

Aesthetic: Fireworks lighting up the nights sky, scrapped knees, wide grins,bare feet,messy hair constantly running fingers through it,dark greens, off white,loud laughter, dumb jokes.

Extra headcanon:

- Ruben is known for being the town menace, however, when he was younger especially, the elder folk would leave out baked goodies for him to pick up during his escapes. Sometimes they'd even let him hide out near their house if it was safe enough to do so. Now that he's older, they don't let him get away so much anymore but will occasionally leave out a place of treats.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lamina - Jinx: TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - Lamina's channel would be dedicated to fitness and her vast collection of swords

- She'll do exercise challenges and inbetween she'd show off her latest custom order swords

- Lamina has an intense energy on screen but will give legitmate advice on health and exercise

- She'll only really soften up if she talks about her girlfriend or her swords, getting equally giddy over both

- Her shedule is regular and she has quite a big following

- Swords will always be present in her backgrounds

What kinda blog would they run? - Her blog would focus on her swords and she'd go into detail about their history and origin

- She takes beautiful pictures of them from every angle imaginable

- Lighting is everything, it's gotta hit the blade juuust right

- She poses them with occassionally, doesn't admit it but she enjoys it

- Her colour scheme would be muted and her theme would be minimal

- Lamina tends to post whenever she has a new sword delievered

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Lamina is not usually one to get dressed up, would probably take some persausion

- She'd want it to be low effect, nothing too complicated

- If she had to pick, possibly an apocolyptic survior, no it's not an excuse to show off her cool swords shUT Up

Who would they cosplay as?

- Possibly Erza Scarlet from Fairy Tail

-Because did I mention swords? because she likes s

-Not sure which armor she'd go for

-Possibly would commission someone to make it

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - A simple shortbread biscuit

What type of tea would they be? - Green macha tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - Straight whisky

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - Warrior deck or Amazoness deck?

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Fighting type, feel like it fits her

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

- Wolf possibly? or a bear

- Home filled with work-out equipment

- Grumpy personality?

Aesthetic: Early mornings, sore knuckles, stern looks, hidden softness, sword clashes, the smell of burning, loyal bonds, dark purples and blues,brusied skin and busted lips, quiet nights beneath the stars.

Extra headcanon:

- (tiny spoilers??) After Solus left most of her men dead, Lamina felt geniuely hurt. Her loyalty and trust in Solus was strong. She wouldn't admit but she did shed a few tears when she was alone before completely shutting herself off from her remaining men. They weren't like him, in fact, they were among the ones who mocked her and they only trusted her out of fear. She felt she'd lost her only real connection. Thankfully, she was able to open up again and she couldn't be happier. -------------------------------------------

Katia-Jinx:TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - Katia would have a fashion channel, she'd showcase the unsual dresses she'd buy and possibly make

- There's always a WIP of a dress on a manniquien in the background of her videos

- She'll sometimes do time lapses of dress

- Katia will occasionally post tutorials on the dresses she makes and leaves materials and such in the description

- She'd talk about the best materials to use to sew with

- Her sewing machine is covered in cute stickers and has become staple in her background

- She keeps a list of themes to explore in a notebook

- Her following is large but not overwhelming

What kinda blog would they run? - A fashion blog

- She'd post lookbooks each with a different theme

- Her colour scheme would be soft galaxy, maybe blue and purple

- Katia loves to talk about the history of fashion and tries to re-create the clothing from different points in history

- Her blog is clean and orginaised to a T. Everything is put into categories

- Katia posts weekly and does at least one lookbook per week

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Katia would be a wailing victorian bride

- With her skills in dress making her costume would be sublime

- She'd go ham on her costume, adding every single detail she can think of to make it look better

- Kinda erie how accurate it would be

Who would they cosplay as? - BOTW!Zelda or Twlight Princess!Zelda

- Again, costume making is her jam! the entire thing would be made from scratch minus a few things like the wig

- She loves the outfits Zelda wears in the games and would study the hell out of them to get the design right

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - Simple lemon biscuit

What type of tea would they be? - Earl Grey

What type of alcohol would they be? - Vodka

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - Harpy Lady deck

- She just thinks they're neat

- And she enjoys the play style

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Ghost type

What Animal Crossing animal would they be? - Rabbit

- Her house would be cosy and hidden away within the trees

- Shy personality type

Aesthetic: Silver necklaces, heavy veils, masquerade masks, silk dresses, corset ties, anxious thoughts, strained smiles, secret encounters, fights for freedom, golds, silver, sparkling jewels, touch starved.

Extra headcanon:

- Katia was not always an anxious mess, that only occurred later in life due to the pressure her parents placed on her. As a child, she was playful and witty, she was rebellous and would always find ways to esape her escorting guards. These days the only way she can 'escape' are when she's in her own quaters.

#soft headcanons #headcanon #ocs #fantasy #mage #dark elf #drow

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quicksilversquared · 6 years

Text

A Musical Connection Ch. 6

In a world where soulmate bonds can range from a simple matching mark to timers to shared dreams, of course Adrien would get saddled with an inconvenient bond that keeps him from going out and living life- because whenever his soulmate sings, Adrien has to as well.

But the singing, as inconvenient as it is, presents another opportunity. Can Adrien use it to track down his soulmate?

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

(AO3) (FF.net)

Adrien had not been in a particularly good mood for... well, a while. His soulmate had been singing more than usual as the semester started to draw to a close, resulting in a whole slew of canceled engagements on his end. There had been some that he hadn't been looking forward to that much- stuffy business meetings with the self-important company investors, mostly- but Adrien had been looking forward to some of the others.

Mostly because he was tired of being cooped up in the house with only Plagg for company most of the time, if he was being honest. Had he been allowed to skip those very same events only a few years prior, Adrien probably would have cheered just because those "parties" weren't particularly interesting.

But at least they weren't set in his room. Adrien was tired of seeing the same four walls around him, day in and day out.

Thankfully, there was a spot of hope on the horizon. Adrien was still working with Max to figure out where his soulmate was performing, so he could maybe find her before the end of the semester. Hopefully in only a few short weeks, Adrien would get to celebrate the holidays with his soulmate at his side and with his friends around him.

Adrien was stuck mid-daydream about it- his soulmate would become instant friends with all of his friends, obviously, because Alya and Nino and Marinette were all so friendly and surely his soulmate would be as well, and then they would all celebrate the holidays into the night and share stories of their school years- when the buzzing of his phone startled him. Adrien scrambled for a moment, trying to figure out where he had put it. Plagg groaned loudly at his nap being interrupted, shoving the vibrating phone out from under a book at Adrien and promptly curling back up to go to sleep.

"I found it!" Max announced as soon as Adrien picked up the phone, accepting the video call. "The place where your soulmate is, I mean. Your soulmate is attending the university in Paris that we were looking at before. They're doing a production of Mary Poppins in a month, and they did Little Shop of Horrors earlier in the year, right when your soulmate was singing those songs."

Adrien perked up, pushing his Physics textbook away so he could give Max his undivided attention. "That's perfect! Should I call them to try to figure out what I should sit so I'm not disrupting the performance?"

"I already did. They had two suggestions." Max adjusted his glasses, pushing them up on his nose as he looked at his papers. "Option 1: Come on the audience sing-along night. Problem: The understudies are more likely to also be singing along, and the audience members would as well. You may have some difficulty figuring out who your soulmate is. I think that actors not involved in the scene might also join the audience in singing, even in songs they aren't in."

Adrien made a face. That sounded like far too many variables. Besides, what if Max was wrong and he burst out in song at the wrong time? "The other option?"

"Option 2: the lighting and sound booth. It's soundproof, and there would be one light tech and one sound person there, and they probably wouldn't be bothered by any impromptu duets."

The suggestion had Adrien grinning. "I like the sound of that."

"I also believe that that would be the best option. You would have arrive early, so people don't see you going in and complain about preferential treatment."

Adrien nodded. He had had to deal with people thinking that he got where he was due to his father far too often and while people did have a point when it came to his modelling, other times it was just unfair. He'd prefer to have to explain his situation to as few people as possible.

"It's been a while since I've been to a play," Plagg said once Adrien finished hashing out the details with Max and had hung up. "Is it a good one?"

"I think so," Adrien said, turning to his computer and searching the university. A few clicks, and he navigated to the page for the theater department. A colorful photo filled most of the page, an announcement about the musical and the run dates printed across the bottom. Adrien's eager eyes scanned the photo, wondering if one of the people pictured was his soulmate. It was mostly just featuring the main characters, though, so maybe not. He hoped that he would know soon enough. "If she's doing it, then it's definitely got to be good."

Plagg sniffed. "You haven't even met the girl and you're already a lovesick kitten. Pathetic."

"I'm just excited!" Adrien defended himself, already planning his outfit for his theater outing in his head. "What do you think she'll look like? I don't know anything about her, really, besides where she goes to school, and the fact that she likes musicals. And that she's a theater major, I suppose."

Plagg sniggered, clearly abandoning his nap in favor of bothering Adrien. "Maybe she has blue eyes and black hair. We all know that's your type, after all."

Adrien felt his cheeks flood with color. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The cackles from Plagg were louder now. "Uh-huh. Sure you don't."

"Liking Ladybug does not give me a type!" Besides, that had been ages ago. Adrien had long since accepted that he and Ladybug were destined to just be friends. "Just because she has blue eyes and dark hair doesn't mean that I automatically have a type."

"Uh-huh. And what about Marinette, hmm? She has blue eyes and dark hair too!"

Despite himself, Adrien's cheeks heated up. "She's one of my friends." Still, even if he would never admit it, he knew Plagg had a point. Marinette was the kind of person who Adrien likely would have gone out with, had the whole soulmates thing not existed and had he not been hung up on Ladybug for years. But he had never allowed himself to let his mind wander too far down that path.

It had taken him too long to get over Ladybug and really get around to accepting that they would just stay at the level of really good friends and nothing more. Falling for someone else all over again would just set him back, and that was not what he needed now, when his soulmate was so close.

Plagg just made a dismissive little noise and zipped off again. Adrien picked his phone up again and texted Nino the news, grinning as he did. Maybe his best friend could come with him to the performance as support. Nino had been dating Alya successfully for years now and would doubtless have some good advice for Adrien so that he wouldn't make a complete fool out of himself in front of his soulmate the first time they met.

Even though he knew he was going to be a ball of nerves, Adrien couldn't wait.

Adrien arrived in the university theater a with excitement building steadily in his chest, dressed in a tidy green button-up and slacks. Once he explained his situation to the usher it didn't take long for him to get shuffled up to the lighting and sound booth, where he got parked on a chair among the mess of cords. Nino hadn't been able to come, but he had texted Adrien a whole list of tips beforehand, do's and don'ts and suggested icebreakers.

He was going to make a giant fool of himself, Adrien just knew it. Even with the tips, he was likely to go overboard with things and be ridiculously dramatic about it. That was just his default with he was nervous or jittery, and right now?

Adrien was both nervous and jittery, and very liable to start doing low bows and knuckle kisses once he met his soulmate.

"I didn't know there was such thing as a musical soulmate bond," the light tech said, already fiddling with a series of switches on a board. The sound tech, a quiet girl with glasses and a high ponytail, had retreated to her own section of the booth and closed the door between the sections without a word to Adrien. "That's cool."

"It's slightly inconvenient when I don't know when I'm going to burst out in song," Adrien admitted. Then he winced, realizing how ungrateful he was sounding about his soulmate. Anyone who didn't know exactly how much disruption the bond caused would likely jump to the wrong conclusions. He hastened to say something more positive. "When I'm at school or out in public, you know. But yeah, it's interesting and I've learned about a lot of cool musicals because of it. There's a lot of really fun songs, but I would prefer if the timing was a bit better."

Lights properly adjusted for the time being, the light tech leaned back in his own chair and glanced over at Adrien. "Oh, I had never thought about what a pain that might be. Did you get in a lot of trouble in school for singing when you were younger?"

Adrien shook his head. "It didn't start up until recently. I was maybe halfway into my first semester of university when the singing started, and I've been taking classes online ever since." He made a face. "It would be nice to get back into normal classes, though. Online isn't anywhere near as fun. I miss talking to people, and I can't really properly finish my science degree or start my Master's studies to become a teacher until I have the singing sorted out."

"Hopefully you'll be able to go back after this semester," Jason said. "And what a great holiday present, too, to find your soulmate."

Adrien's grin lit up his entire face, so wide his cheeks were hurting. "Yeah! That's what I'm hoping for. She might already have holiday plans, but I'm flexible, so maybe I could tag along with her. I've already got all of these plans for, like, dates to go on and everything. I'm just super excited."

Jason laughed. "I can tell. You're practically vibrating out of your chair. I've still got three years to go," he added, flashing his wrist at Adrien. 3Y 4M was printed in dark ink. "I'm happy to wait, just knowing that there's someone out there for me."

Their small talk continued until the show started. Adrien sat up straight, eyes focused on the stage as he waited for the telltale tickle in his throat. His excitement mounted as the house lights dimmed and went off, and the curtains parted.

Even though Adrien was nervous, he couldn't help but enjoy the first few minutes. The orchestra started- Adrien briefly wondered how in the world they could even see their music in the dim lighting- and the jack-of-all-trades Bert appeared onstage in a lone spotlight.

Not his soulmate, obviously.

The ball of nerves mounted as one character after another sang and there wasn't so much as a tickle in his throat. Adrien squinted at his program in the dim lighting of the light booth, mentally checking off each character after they sang, trying to figure out if there was anyone left who had yet to sing. The list of possibilities was growing steadily shorter with every passing scene.

...maybe it was someone in the ensemble? Adrien's breath was starting to feel tight in his throat as cast members swarmed around the stage, changing the set before the next scene started.

He couldn't be wrong. Max couldn't be wrong. This was literally their only lead. No other theater in the country had put on the same combination of shows. What were they meant to do if this, their only lead, didn't turn anything up?

But the ensemble sang, and the play continued on. But Adrien was barely listening, heart sunk into his toes.

Nothing. His dream of spending the holidays with his soulmate was going down the drain.

The light tech- Jason, he had told Adrien- eyed Adrien as the lights were raised for the halftime intermission. "No singing?"

Adrien shook his head morosely. "Nothing at all. We were positive that she was in this performance too, since she was singing stuff from the Little Shop of Horrors before, when you guys were doing that show."

"Understudy, then?" Jason suggested as he watched the audience filing out of the auditorium for snacks and bathroom breaks. "I'm not terribly familiar with a lot of the cast, so I don't know if there's any repeats from before." He frowned. "I thought understudies normally become part of the ensembles, though. Maybe I'm remembering things wrong."

"Has everyone sung at least once, do you know?" Adrien asked, flipping through the pages of his program. He had been marking off the main characters as they sang, but it was difficult to tell apart the background characters at times, especially from as far back as the light box. Now that the lights were on, he could look at the cast list more carefully. It still wasn't giving him any leads.

The other boy shrugged. "Probably? I don't really know the cast, sorry. I'm more familiar with the other backstage workers."

Adrien slumped in his seat as he texted both Nino and Max. He had been so positive that he would find his soulmate tonight. If everyone had already sung, then where did that leave him? Where had they gone wrong?

Nino reacted with dismay. Max's text was so very typical Max.

Max: Huh. Will expand search area into other French-speaking countries and regions. Will keep you posted.

Adrien sighed and turned his attention back to the auditorium. People were starting to filter back in, trips to the bathroom done and snacks in hand. They were chatting excitedly amongst themselves, no doubt discussing the play and their favorite songs so far, or something like that. Adrien couldn't manage to even fake their level of enthusiasm, not anymore. Jason suggested that maybe there were a few members of the ensemble and understudy cast who hadn't sung yet, but Adrien couldn't bring himself to get his hopes up again. Something in his gut told him that there was no point.

An announcement sounded over the auditorium, and Jason started dimming the lights. Audience members hurried to their seats, getting fully settled before the lights went off completely. The music started up again and the second half of the play started. Even though the songs were peppy and upbeat and normally made him smile, Adrien watched it all rather listlessly. His eyes tracked the actors and actresses on stage automatically, but he was utterly unable to get past the crushing disappointment of what he had thought was a solid lead turning into an utterly dead end.

There wasn't so much as a tickle in his throat the entire time. By the time Adrien left the auditorium at the end of the show, following a cheerful crowd, it was with a heavy heart and discouragement sitting sour in his gut.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #A Musical Connection #Adrien Agreste #SORRY IT'S SO LATE THE COMPUTER'S TO BLAME

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luxeaus · 6 years

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NCT Winwin AU

a/n: hello everyone this is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me lmao ,,, also uhh if u have a request feel free to do so!! i'll write for seventeen, astro, nct, and the boyz only! i thought of this concept last year and only now did i decide to write it hehe basically sicheng wanted to get his mom something special for mothers day (i know im a day late shush) and thats when he met you :) i hope u like it!!! ~~~ • it was early in the afternoon • youve been working for a couple of hours now since the flower shop your aunt owned opened •it was mother's day, so you were expecting a lot of people • the store was busy, buzzing with people from around your neighborhood buying flowers for their moms, grandmas, and whoever else • youre busy with so many people asking for advice on what to get and making bouquets • a few more hours pass by and the store had less people inside • it was only you, your aunt, a couple, and a girl who looked around your age • as you ring up the couple and waved a quick good bye, you finally had the time to settle down on your little chair behind the counter and relax • just as you closed your eyes for hopefully, a quick nap, you hear the door ringand in came a guy • he was tall, skinny, and cute even • this is winwin btw ISBSISHSB • anyway • you kind of picked up the habit of scouting for cute boys who bought flowers at your store • but every cute boy you saw so far, is no one compared to this one who came in, with a big grey sweatshirt and skinny black ripped jeans • he looked sweet and lost. like a small puppy in a big town • you came back to your senses when your aunt tapped you on the shoulder and told you to ask what the new customer needed, since she was busy with the other one • you nod, and rush to the tall boy • "good afternoon, sir. how can i be of assistance?" • you recite for what seemed to be the hundredth time today • "o-oh hello. i ummm. im looking for flowers?" • you chuckle a bit. "i bet you are," you reply. • at this point sicheng is slapping himself a million times in the head • of course you are you dumbass why else would you walk in a flower shop?? • he looks at you, smiling at him and his dumb dumb statement • he blushes, both from embarrassment and also,, cos wow ur cute :(( • "hehe i- yeah i am. but i dont know what to get..." he stammers as he scratches the back of his neck • you quickly turn on Serious Work Mode and suggest a few • "is it for your mom? are you giving her flowers for mother's day?" you ask while pointing out a few carnations that can look good in a potential bouquet • "these are carnations, i bet theyll look pretty along with the roses you picked," you suggest • "o-ok but i want it to be like.. super cool and big" • "oh! i actually have a few pre-made bouquets if you want to see them? i made them specifically for today so we can save time since its busy this time of the year" you suggest • two things are going thru sichengs head • 1) why is this girl/boy so cute 2) i really need to impress my mom... and this person • "sure i think that would be better :) hehe" he replied • SICHENG DID U JUST SAY HEHE OUT LOUD YOU DUMMY • you walk over to the rows of bouquets you made the night before • "i only have a few left since a lot of people bought them..." you explain • "these look super good... " • you made the bouquets massive with a lot of different flowers and put little greeting cards on the paper wrap • "see anything you like? no one has actually bought my favorite yet..." • "everything looks super amazing. which one is your favorite?" the boy asked, touching the flowers gently • "this one" • you point to a bouquet with sunflowers, roses, carnations and a couple of tulips, with baby's breath scattered along to fill the empty spaces • "y-you made this?" he said taking the bouquet • "this looks perfect! im sure my mom would love this!!!" • "yeah i did! thank you im sure she will!!" • "i'll take it :)" • "ok let me ring you up :)" • as you were doing finishing touches to the bouquet, you start going off a tangent on how you made it • "so you know carnations are supposed to symbolize good luck and pure love right thats why i chose this and back then even the way you wrap the bouquet and the strings used can mean a lot so if you tie it a certain way, theres a message behind it. this one i tied so it means you have nothing but love and adoration to that person..." • he just looks at you in awe because • oh my god.. how can someone look so frickin cute and lovely and bright.. he thought you bloomed the most beautiful out of all the flowers in the room • when you noticed he was staring, you cough and apologize • "sorry i didnt mean to ramble. i just really enjoy making bouquets hehe" • "n-no its fine i think its really.. cute :>" • "oh!! well uh.." • you scramble to finish quickly because omg did he just call you cute ??? What the heck • "wait so what do you want written on the greeting card? we can print it out and stuff ... " you ask him • "yes um... happy mother's day! love, sicheng" • SICHENG <3333 • the name sticks to you and you didnt notice but you were smiling as you printed the card • "what about you?" the boy, sicheng, asked suddenly • "what about me?" • "whats your name?" • "oh. its y/n" • "pretty~" • "what?" • "nothing!!! Here," • he hands out his payment • "keep the change, y/n!!" • "no thats really ok you dont have to-" • "oh please take it! You made the perfect bouquet for my mom and gave me a free lesson on flowers hehe its the least i can do! plus maybe you know.." • he takes a deep breath • "maybewecangoonadatesometime?" • "what.. with me??" you ask • "yeah.. i mean if you want.." • "ok. sure. id love that actually..." • ISUSUEIEUW CUTE • you hand sicheng his bouquet and a small piece of paper with your number • "text me" you tell him. WOW YOURE BOLD! • "dont worry i will! thank you y/n :]" • cant believe he just :] • as you waved good bye to sicheng you look at your aunt and she shakes her head • "young love!!!"

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct winwin #winwin #dong sicheng #winwin scenario #nct au #nct scenario #winwin au #kpop

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nickrbockr · 6 years

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Simon Vs Fan Fic: Chapter 10 - Lightly Down Unto A Pillow

Ao3

“Can I at least have the ring box?” I request from Dad in more of an order than a question.

Dad could see that it was about that time as he agreed to get the ring and went upstairs to retrieve it.

It was the day before our anniversary and proposal day. At the end of January is when the snow and slush in the streets stops being fun and starts being annoying. This winter break has been wonderful, filled with Abby and Nick explaining all of their fun stories, Leah taking our conversations to use as examples in her sociology finals, and Bram and I spending nearly every single second together.

School was due to start again, but I informed all of my professors before I left for break that I may miss the first few days of their classes. After I told them why, most of them smiled, nodded their heads, and told me they’d email me the syllabi and what I can work on before I come back. One of them even bought me a bottle of wine as a gift.

I finished the poem on New Years Eve with Bram laying on my chest. I both wanted him to stay and leave because I wanted to write the rest of the poem but I could never ask him to leave when he looked so comfortable and I loved seeing him there. The smell of bacon did, however, motivate both of us to get up as we came downstairs to Mom, Dad, Nora, Ian, and Alice.

“Good morning star shines,” Alice said sipping coffee.

“Alice is so cool,” Ian said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “She doesn’t know too much about soccer, but neither do you, but that’s okay, she makes up for it in smarts.”

“Thank you…what’s your name again?” Alice asks.

“Ian.”

I make Bram and I plates as my family makes small talk over their breakfasts. It was fun seeing everyone sitting and talking and getting along with each other. It made me think of Bram and I’s wedding day and how I would make him plan all of it, mostly because asking his parents, getting the ring, and doing what I’m doing for the proposal took a lot out of me. Plus I know he loves planning, especially with the logistics of a wedding.

I didn’t talk much at the table because I kept repeating the lines over and over in my head that I wanted to add to the poem. I would catch Bram stealing glances at me and it made me so unbelievably happy. I grabbed his hand as I repeated lines over and over again in my head while he ate with his free hand.

We finished breakfast and Bram had to leave as he was getting yet another call from his work. He kissed me on the cheek and ran out to his car. His butt looked so good when he ran; it was the best part of watching him play soccer in high school. Once he drove away, I rushed upstairs to write all the thoughts I kept repeating to myself over and over again through breakfast. I hope nobody said anything too important because I wasn’t listening at all.

There. I did it. I was finally done. I wrote the final poem on a clean sheet of paper and read it over and over again. This was it, I hope he likes it!

Bram and I celebrated his birthday a few weeks later where I was tempted again to propose, but I still didn’t have the ring and Bram deserved a ring. And the proposal, so I obviously didn’t say anything and the normally insightful Bram didn’t even notice my weird energy because he seemed preoccupied himself.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him. His pensive stare was so stoic, statuesque, and sexy that when I broke his trance, I was a little upset with myself. “Thinking about school?”

“Yeah.” Bram said, a bit hollowly. “Like usual when we get back into the groove of being together we have to go back to being apart.”

“But hey, at least you didn’t have to take the January semester this year, that’s something. And we’re going to be able to be with each other this year on our anniversary.”

When Bram heard the word anniversary, he smiled and his rigidness began to melt as he leaned his head on me.

“You’re right, sorry. I want this year’s anniversary to be the best we’ve had so far.”

I couldn’t agree more. We took anniversaries very seriously since the day in his Honda Civic. It was a big step for him and an important deal for us. It was when, for the first time in a long time, either of us felt so…normal. Not having to hide and having each other every step of the way. It was the reason I wanted to propose on our anniversary, the meaning will be more than obvious. I kissed him on the forehead, knowing what was coming and him (hopefully) blissfully unaware of what was to come. That was last week and tomorrow is the big night.

Dad came back downstairs with a black felt ring box with a red bow wrapped around it. He handed it to me and I took it gently. I know Dad spent a lot of time finding this ring and I could see it in his watering eyes that it meant a lot to him to be a part of the proposal in this way. It’s always hard for sons to tell their fathers properly how much they mean to each other, gay or straight.

“Thank you so much Dad. You know, don’t tell Mom, but now you have the most involvement with the proposal.”

Dad let a smile grow in his face. “You know what, you’re right and I’m going to hold on to that feeling. Speaking of that, how are you feeling? Tomorrow will come super fast.”

“Yep.” I wasn’t as nervous as I could be because of Mom. Yesterday we went shopping and gathered all of the ingredients for dinner. It was nice to have her there to remember all the necessary items I would have forgotten and then I’d be serving Bram and I peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which he would love too but I wanted tomorrow to be more special than PB&J.

“It’s alight to be nervous, Si. They don’t call it float lightly down onto a pillow, they call it jumping in.” Dad is wise as he is nerdy. Now I know where I get it from.

I have the ring and that was the most important (and last) thing on my mental checklist. Leah was on her way over to help me hang the pictures again before she had to go to another reunion meeting at the high school.

“I just don’t understand why they need to meet with you so much.” I ask while we re-tabe the backs of all the cut out pictures.

“There’s a lot of logistics into planning such a big event, Si. Tables, chairs, caterers, hotels, the school itself, and everyone has an opinion.” She replies sticking a picture in an empty spot.

“But to have a meeting every other day the entire time you’ve been back from Yale? What did they do when you were not in Shady Creek?”

“Oh, they did fine. It’s just different when the date grows closer and closer people tend to become more flustered with already decided paths. Speaking of that, you’re calm?” Leah jokes.

“I kinda am…I think I’ve finally taken all of my family’s and friend’s advice. I’m starting to think I should have been doing this since high school, I feel great!”

Leah and I finish the collage of pictures and it looks even better than it did last month when we did it. Alice knocked on the door and Alice brought in the dozen roses I ordered.

“Alice? I thought you had to hit the road?”

“Me too, but it seems the weather has a different story.” She showed me her phone and her flight was cancelled. There’s a storm in Boston, so flights were grounded until further notice. “Apparently it could be a few days, so it looks like I’ll be able so see this proposal after all.”

I smiled so wide and hugged Alice as I took the roses and she patted me on the back.

“So what are you going to spell out anyway?” Alice asked.

“The idea is ‘Abraham,’ but let’s see if a dozen roses is enough.”

Alice, Leah and I all pluck off the petals and pile them up until only green stems remained.

“He loves me, he loves me not.” Leah said, jokingly. We finished spelling Abraha on the bed. I didn’t spell that wrong, we were out of petals.

“You could just disperse the amount of petals so you have enough for the ‘m.’” Alice suggested.

“But I like how the letters look with tighter petal overlap.” Leah commented.

“Or I we could just spell Bram?” I say.

Leah and Alice teamed up with me for a judgmental look.

“Oh, no, no, no, Simon.” Alice starts.

“No-no,” Leah adds.

“Are you proposing to him or are you ‘prop-ing’ to him?” They both walked up to me with glares.

“No nicknames?”

“Correct,” Alice said. “I’ll go buy another dozen. My treat, Bub.” Alice leaves the room and blows me a kiss. While she’s gone, Leah and I begin to unwrap and set up candles around my room.

“This has got to be a fire hazard. And what are your parents going to do with all these candles when you’re done using them for ten minutes?” She asked.

“I dunno, tell your reunion committee you have parting gifts.”

“Who would want to a partially used candle?”

“People who actually go to the reunion.” Leah shot me a look. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Speaking of which, I’ll be at school hopefully done with the meeting tomorrow night to be back to celebrate after. I promise I won’t miss it.”

I told my parents and the gang to come to the house around 10pm to have a celebratory drink. I guess you could say I did have some confidence Bram would say yes now.

“You better not, if I wanted anyone else there after Bram, it would be you.”

She smiles and winks at my as we finish strategically placing the candles around my room. We talked about how Nick and Abby still have not confirmed who the other person in their relationship and that made us think it could be someone from high school. That lead into speculation and more creeping on social media with old high school acquaintances who went to school or live in New York. During our investigation, Alice returned with another bouquet of roses. We shut the computer quickly and stared at her.

“I saw Simon do that only once, so I don’t want to know what you were looking at.”

She laughs as Leah gives me a disgusted look and I deny every claim they make. We finish spelling Abraham on the bed and it looks really good. So good that I realized I didn’t want to move it.

“Looks like the couch has my name on it.” I say. Ian flew back to Yale yesterday. Both Leah and I wanted him to stay, but the professors weren’t as forgiving to have him miss his first days. Alice sees the ring box with the bow from Dad.

“He finally gave it to you?” Alice commented. “That only took forever.”

“I have faith that Dad had his reasons and that it will be badass.”

“It will be…and Simon, your room. This all looks badass, good job.” Alice complimented.

“Now that I see it all together, it does Simon. Bram is going to love the collage.”

“Well, in the theatre world,” I start to Leah sighing and Alice making a fart noise with her mouth and hand. “In the theatre world! Sometimes the best way to build a good pay off is misdirection: have Bram notice the candles so I can shut the door which will lead him to the bed with his name spelled out so I can pull out the ring and get on one knee and by the time he turns around, he sees me, the ring, and the pictures of us. And he’ll be recently fed, so he’ll be in an even better mood.”

“Good planning, Si,” Alice commented. She said the words, but it sounded like there was a space of her feeling underwhelmed. I’m probably just looking into it so I look to Leah who is nodding her head in approval, so at least I have that going for me.

“Si!” Nora shouted from downstairs. “Bram is here!”

I smile like I always smile when I hear my boyfriend’s name, soon to be fiancé’s name.

“Remember, we all have to keep him out of my room. Which will be hard because we both like my room.”

“Not the only thing that will be hard.” Leah jokes. Ian has rubbed off on her. And now I guess so have I. Someone stop me.

“Ew, gross, you got it, Bub, we won’t let him anywhere near the threshold.” Alice promised.

We all head downstairs and there in a nice v-neck and black jeans was my beautiful boyfriend, sun setting behind him. I immediately go up to him and kiss him, extra long, extra hard.

“What’s that for?” He asks, coyly since we kissed in front of my siblings and parents.

“For fun.” I reply.

Leah had to go to her meeting she went to Creekwood as the family, Bram, and I all go to Waffle House for dinner. it was Alice’s idea to get as out of the house and to give more reason not to have Bram and I go to my room.

“So how’s relaxing been, Bram?” Dad asked. “Seems like you’ve definitely needed it by the way Simon’s made it sound.”

“Not the best,” Bram answered. Since the beginning of his break, the station and his professors have been calling him at least once or twice a day, he’s been typing away on his computer when we’ve been hanging out on the couch, and he’s been a little distracted lately. I haven’t minded, I love watching him work. He’s also been pleasantly surprised because I am not the completely needy Simon I have been in the past. Wonder where all this new confidence came from? “Even though I didn’t take the January Semester it feels like I still am. I may tell them to give me a few credits.”

“I hate to see you too stressed out, B,” I reply, rubbing his shoulder. He put his hand on my hand.

“Well, it should be over soon. Working for the station is fun, but finishing school at the same time is work. I won’t miss college, I guarantee. Simon, we should go on a nice, long vacation this summer or fall before we move to New York.”

I planned on that. As a wedding present, Mom and Dad offered to help pay for our honeymoon. In return, Mom made sure I promised to visit the house, with Bram, for no less than four major holidays per year. I think we could pull that off. I have a few places in mind once the proposal part is over and Bram and I can talk about it together.

Together. Together forever. God I like the sound of that. I squeeze his shoulder and his hand squeezes mine in response.

“I agree, you deserve a good vacation.”

Bram’s phone rings and he closes his eyes and exhales. He wipes his mouth and looks at the call. “Sorry guys, I have to take this.” He stands up from the table and walks outside to take the call.

“He needs to relax,” Mom said, staring at him through the restaurant window. “He’ll have the rest of his life to stress about work.”

We continued to chat and eat for a few minutes until I saw Bram hang up the phone and place his hands on his head. Alice followed my glance and looked at Bram too until until entered the doors. He’s so cute, but he looks so torn.

“Hey, Alice, can I talk to you outside?”

We all look at Alice who finishes sipping her Diet Coke and looks up at Bram. She is good at handling herself in awkward situations.

“Sure.” Alice gets up and looks to me with ‘don’t hate me’ eyes.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, kind of starting to get worried.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just a work related question that I don’t want to bore you all with. It won’t be long.” He shoots me a reassuring smile and my anxiety melts away. If there was a problem worth talking to me about he would. New Simon trusts his boyfriend.

Alice and Bram walk outside and we all try to not look as a group but all we can do is look at random times. When I first look, Bram looked like he was explaining something with Alice intently listening. I looked back at my plate and swirled around the last of my waffle in syrup. When I looked again, Bram paced as Alice spoke with a calm expression. I ate the last bite of my waffle and sipped my water and when I looked the last time, they were hugging. That’s a good sign, right?

They walk back in together and Alice yells from the front door, “Family, don’t be weird about this, let’s just finish eating, people are entitled to have conversations with other people in private.” The other patrons stared at them as they walked past the tables and finished eating. I turned to Bram.

“So everything is good?” I ask again, just to be clear.

Bram smiles. “Yep, Alice is a smart lady.”

He kisses my cheek and finishes his meal. Bram knows I’ve been better at being more confident and trusting and not second guessing but there is tiny, minute, microscopic seed growing in warmth below my stomach. I was becoming nervous. ‘It’s okay to be nervous’ I heard Dad’s words in my head, ‘it’s why it’s called jumping in.’ Maybe this was just proposal nerves and I was over reacting to my possible fiancé speaking to my sister in private outside a Waffle House. When I said it out loud, the growing burn went back to a subtle luke-warmness. The premise was laughable and a smile returned to my face as I placed my arm around his chair. I leaned on his shoulder and I could feel him chew.

Mom paid the bill and we all piled in the car back to the house. Nora and Alice were belted out ‘Ironic’ when it came on the radio to the entertainment of all of us in the car. When we got to the house, Bram pulled me aside.

“Hey handsome,” he started. He called me handsome when he was about to ask me a favor.

“Hi gorgeous,” I reply.

“Would you be mad at me if I went home? I had a late night last night and I have more work to do and I’d rather finish it tonight so it can be just us all day tomorrow?”

I pulled Bram to me and laid a warm, deep kiss on his lips. He went to pull back but I kept going and he stopped pulling away. I placed my hands on his cheeks and he placed his hands lightly on mine. When I pulled away, I could see his plump, moist lips and he bit his bottom one.

“Never, ever. I love you Abraham Greenfeld. When you need to work, you need to work. You’re all mine tomorrow.” I give him one light kiss and he smiles, but not as brightly as he usually does. “Seriously, last time I’ll ask, are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked up at me with his coffee brown eyes as the last remnants of the sun glisten in his eyes.

“I love you more, and yes.” He places his hand on my cheek and lean into it.

“Then go do what you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Bram walks towards his car and stops. His frame has never looked tighter and reminded me of a Greek statue. He didn’t move for a moment until he turned around and walked back to me with a quick pace. He kissed me hard. Passionately. Aggressively. I felt so protected as our lips moved in pressing motions against another and my knees started to feel weak. After what felt like five minutes, he slows his kisses until he pulls away and licks his lips.

“I love you, so incredibly, so deeply, Simon.”

“I love you so, so, so much. Now go before I change my mind.”

He smiles and this time goes to his car and leaves. I go back inside and my family is talking about tomorrow and how excited they are but my mind is still focused back on the minute burning of nerves. Leah only stays for about an hour before she goes home and then we all gather around the TV to watch more Bachelor episodes. After four episodes Mom, Dad, and Nora go to sleep and Alice stays next to me on the couch.

“I know you can’t stop thinking about what happened at dinner.” She said.

“It’s not just that.” I say. “It’s a combination of that and I’m nervous for tomorrow and I can sense Bram isn’t telling me something, but he wants to.” When I said this scenario out loud, it didn’t sound crazy like when I thought it back at the restaurant. The nervous burn grew a little in size. Alice exhaled loudly and didn’t say anything. She usually has something to say, whether it is helpful or hilarious, but this time she was just quiet. The burn grew again.

“Simon, trust Bram. Trust yourselves. Trust.”

Alice kisses me on the head and covers me up on the couch. I felt like she wanted to say more but knew not to say anything else. There’s nothing she could really say to me right now that would make me feel calmer. Except maybe Bub.

Everything I felt I learned over the past year with confidence, every part of me that has grown in my relationship was hinging on this moment. Will I fall back into old habits of self-sabotage or fall forward into progress?

My mind was going over everything it could, analyzing the last six months. Conversations with Bram, conversations about Bram with Abby, Nick and Leah, and it all didn’t have any raised flags. I scrolled through out texts as far back as my phone had saved them and it all came up nothing. I went through Bram’s social media presence that was low. He only appeared in tagged pictures on Facebook and barely used Instagram, both of which provided no insight. Perhaps I was just over thinking it.

I turned the TV on to try to allow the dull glow of Forensic Files to lull me to sleep. It was on low volume, I was warm, it was late, but nothing worked me into a restful state to fall asleep. A new episode was about to start when my phone vibrated. I closed my eyes not to sleep, but to prepare myself. It was three thirty-eight. Alerts at three thirty-eight were never good.

Bram Come outside. Please. . .. … I know you’re up.

He knew me too well. It took all of my strength to fight my gut instinct and plunge backwards into old Simon and start making wild accusations in my head, causing me not to be present while we talked. I breathed in and out for a few moments before I replied.

Be out in a minute.

I put on my coat and a hat and I go outside to have my glasses immediately fog in the cold weather. Through the fog I can see Bram’s car and the trail of exhaust coming from the tail pipe. I walk slowly towards the car, both because it was cold and I was even more nervous than before and wanted more time to prepare. I determined that whatever Bram had to say to me in person at three-thirty in the morning, I had to let him speak and I could not answer at all or I may not be able to hold back the vomit or tears or words I’m trying so hard to keep from coming out. Which is crazy because I don’t even know if what he says will be bad. But a part of me knows it’s not good.

I reach the door and I open it, getting in the front seat to a warmer car. The car door shut and my glasses fogged slightly in the change of temperature. Blurry Bram was still so cute, but his expression was very serious. I can also see in the back seat where there are bags. Not a good start.

“Simon.” Bram whispers, barely moving his lips, staring at his steering wheel.

I didn’t answer. I think Bram knew I wouldn’t…I couldn’t answer. He inhaled, looked down at his chest and shifted his body toward mine.

“I was going to drop a letter in your mailbox…but when I got to it, I couldn’t do it. You deserve better than a letter.”

I was starting to become a little numb, but not from the cold. The nervous fire grew inside me.

“I knew I had to tell you in person so you didn’t think I was a coward.”

Hold it together, Spier. I fought urges to speak as I sat in the passenger seat staring at the dashboard.

“The call I took at Waffle House…it was the station. They knew I was heading to New York after graduation and so they promoted me to give me on-air experience. For the next six months, I’ll be writing and filming my own news stories. I start Tuesday. I have to leave now to get back in time.”

The nervous fire was extinguished, but what was left was emptiness. It wasn’t bad news, but I also wasn’t thrilled. Bram put his hand on mine and squeezed and I squeezed back.

“I know how much our anniversary means to us and I guess I was so afraid of letting you down that I was…I just was so scared to tell you because this moment, right now, pains me so much.”

He moved his hand to my face and I fell into it. I looked at Bram and he moved his eyes away from mine. I was formulating what I wanted to say as he continued.

“But I know that our future is also important, for both of us. Not just my future, but our future. This could be a very big deal and help us settle when we move and –”

“Bram,” I finally say, moving my fingers across his lips. “Go.” It sounded harsher than I meant it and Bram shot me a weird, hurt look. I had to clarify because that look stabs me, shreds my insides, and leaves me breathless. “You have to go. This is a big opportunity that can be good for your career. And our future. It’s a no brainer.”

He exhaled hard as a tear fell from his eye. I wiped it away with my thumb and held back my own. I spoke in fragments to drive home that I meant what I said. He leaned in to me more.

“I love you so much. I love that you care so deeply about us. But I’m also not selfish enough to want keep you here if this is something you need to do. And we’ll have many more anniversaries to come.” Bram still wasn’t looking up, it was time to return the favor he sent me months ago. I started to sing softly as I leaned closer to him.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, Bram, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Bram squeezed his eyes and more tears fell out when he finally looked up at me with hazy pink eyes.

“We’re Simon and Bram,” I told him, pulling his face closer to mine. “Don’t feel bad at all, don’t feel guilty at all. We got this. I’m going to miss the hell out of you, but hopefully I can see you more than twice this semester.”

Our lips are just inches apart until I pull him to mine and lay a kiss upon them.

“I love you so much, Simon. I promise this will all be worth it.”

I remained silent. I needed to remain silent. If I didn’t, I’d cry myself and in a couple when one of you is hurting, the other has to be the lighthouse leading you out of the hurt. If both are lost, you may never find a way out. It’s why it took us so long in high school to find each other in the first place.

Since I have no words, I kiss him again, both our lips tremble. I click the handle and step out of his car. He rolls down the window as I shut the door and I lean in one last time.

“Text me when you land,” I ask. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle hearing your voice.” He nods quickly and wipes his face from the tears. I extend my hand to him and he grabs it and kisses it repeatedly and places it against his cheek. “I love you Abraham Louis Greenfeld.”

I pull my hand away from his warm cheek and with it goes the warmth from my heart. The window rolls up and Bram drives away. I’m left on the lightly snowy grass, cold, not being able to move, lost in thought.

When I walk back, it hits me that Bram left. Everything I’ve been planning since August has evaporated before four o’clock in the morning on the day of our anniversary. No more proposal. At least not today.

It knocked the wind out of me as I opened my bedroom to see all the candles and flower petals spelling Abraham. I felt so much weird pain, but we didn’t break up, but why did it feel that way? Why do I feel empty and Why can’t I talk to Bram about why I feel this way? I didn’t fall backwards, but I didn’t feel like I moved forward either. I just stayed put, is that better? When life is running forward, can you afford to sit on the track and let it out of your sight?

I lay on my bed on top of the rose petals and feel the lump of my poem notebook on my back. I kept it there to also remind me to memorize it. That was it, that was the trigger that caused me to bawl. Why does it feel like such a let down? It’s not like I won’t propose another day, but I wanted to badly to be engaged. I want to be Bram Greenfeld’s fiancé, I want to be Bram Greenfeld’s husband. And I know that’s selfish but I want to be selfish about Bram. I worked so hard with Elijah and Tracy and Mom and Dad and everyone else’s support. I guess it feels like not only was I let down, but I let them down as well.

It was still our anniversary and I didn’t want to associate this night with all the rest of them. Bram didn’t deserve my selfishness to affect our day. I pulled out my phone and decided to text Bram

Bram, I don’t want our fifth anniversary to be associated with either of us feeling this way. I did have some things planned, but there was one gift I have to give you.

I didn’t have to look at the notebook; I had it memorized.

Blue Oreos – A poem for Abraham Greenfeld

Blue Oreos Digitally sent in heart shapes Punctuation. Is. Key. To. Identity. Wrapped shirts Pinned notes Not ready for Spotlight But ready to grow Steps of a Baby Started light, became heavy Nothing we couldn’t carry Ferris Wheel, Tilt a Whirl We realized we weren’t for girls He saved me Beating hearts Touching skin Skipping Lunch Together again. College came, nothing changed We got strong We got game There may been doubt But not by us Because what I want Is You. Always you. Forever you. Us.

#Love Simon #Simon Vs #SVTHSA #Simonverse #simon spier #bram greenfeld #simon x bram #bram x simon #gay #gay love #proposal #marriage #love simon fic #simon vs fic #love simon fanfiction #simon vs fanfiction #love simon fan fic #simon vs fan fic #my fic

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paganvamp · 3 years

Text

Saving Grace: Chapter 1

This is a long chapter, but it’s the setup for Episode 1 of TVD

Disclaimer: I do not own the vampire diaries or any affiliated content

2009 AD: The First Signs

Grace Sinclair woke up with a single, urgent thought on her mind: Elena’s coming back to school today. I have to make sure she’s okay. It was a mantra she repeated to herself all throughout her morning routine, even sloppily hurrying through her signature braid, before tugging on her clothes and grabbing her bag.

“Morning, Gracie!” Her mother chirped as Grace hurtled into the kitchen. When she nearly knocked her youngest sister off the chair in her haste to grab a slice of bread, Aimee gripped the edge of the island counter tightly.

“Woah, Grace, where’s the fire?” At Aimee’s exclamation, both middle-child Chloe and Grace’s father looked up, seemingly equally amused and concerned.

“Elena,” Grace muttered, far too concerned about her friend to form a complete sentence.

“Elena Gilbert?” While Grace herself was a year older than her three closest friends (Elena Gilbert, Caroline Forbes, and Bonnie Bennett), Chloe was in the same year, and shared several classes with the three girls. Grace nodded, popping her now toasted bread into her mouth and running out the door.

“Sorry, got to go,” she exclaimed around the toast, “I need to make sure she’s okay!”

The kitchen was silent for a few moments as the family listened to the car door slam and Grace pull out of the driveway. Aimee was the one to break it, with a valid concern:

“Did she leave us here?”

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Grace was antsy, tapping the steering wheel and nervously bobbing her head as she somehow managed to hit every single red light on the way to the school. She was talking to herself, giving herself tips on how to handle the situation.

“Be calm, Grace. Don’t overwhelm her. She hasn’t seen anyone all summer. Just be cool, be reassuring. You’re her friend. She’s way more nervous than you are.” She kept a steady stream of murmured assurances the entire drive, only pausing when she pulled into her designated parking spot. “Okay. Deep breath,” she followed her own advice, breathing in deeply and out slowly, before nodding to herself. “Let’s fucking do this.”

It took her only a few minutes to locate the huddle of cheerleaders where she knew she could find Elena. Only Elena wasn’t there yet. That makes sense. Why would she want to get here early and have to deal with everyone’s shit? She decided to wait with Bonnie and Caroline. As a junior, she normally wouldn’t have been close with the three sophomore girls. Bonnie was actually her distant cousin somehow, but Grace’s parents weren’t the type to stress extended family connections, so the two had only a passion knowledge of each other. And, of course, she’d vaguely known all three of them since she moved in to town, as they were close friends with her neighbor, Matt, but cheerleading had forced them to get to know each other, and they couldn’t help becoming fast friends. Elena’s generosity and warmth had drawn Grace to her immediately, while Bonnie brought a steady, reassuring presence to her life. But it was, surprisingly, the perky yet neurotic Caroline who had become Grace’s closest friend. Caroline’s need for organization and her control-freak tendencies helped to keep Grace grounded and on track, while Grace’s easy-going personality and unconditional support had mediated Caroline’s neuroses. However, this particular morning, Grace was reminded that Caroline wasn’t exactly the most sensitive person – not that Grace was either, but at least she was aware of it – so Grace was sure she and Bonnie would need to be there to ensure she didn’t unintentionally say anything to set Elena off. As Grace came up behind the group, she caught Bonnie’s attention.

“Hey, good morning, Grace!” Bonnie waved, alerting Caroline to Grace’s presence. The other blonde narrowed her eyes at Grace.

“You’re late.”

“It’s 7:20.”

“We agreed to meet outside the school at 7:15.” Knowing it was futile the argue the point, Grace just nodded and smiled her apology.

“Sorry. Won’t happen tomorrow.” Bonnie had just opened her mouth to say something when Grace spotted Elena approaching, hand in hand with her football-player boyfriend, Matt Donovan. “Elena!” Grace waved, jogging a few feet to meet in the middle. Forgetting all of her previous advice to herself, she placed a comforting hand on Elena’s arm. “Are you okay?” Elena simply blinked at her for a moment before giving that signature smile.

“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” What?

“Well, because-“ but now that she had to think about it, Grace realized she had no idea why she’d believed all morning that Elena was grieving, or that she’d just returned to school even though Grace had seen her in class yesterday. She’d simply woken up knowing that something terrible had happened to her friend and she needed to comfort her. “I… don’t know.” Shaking her head and trying to wave off the concerned looks her four friends were giving her, Grace smiled and shrugged. “I think I just had a super realistic dream and got confused. That ever happen to you?”

“Oh, yeah I’ve done that before!” Matt, the only one in the group she’d been close friends with since childhood, assured her in a tone that suggested he most certainly had not done that before but didn’t want her to feel bad about it.

“Okay, so if we’re going to ignore the fact that you’re being super weird, can we at least go over the plans for tonight?” Caroline cut in. Grace had completely forgotten. The bonfire was tonight. Though, how she had forgotten, she had no idea. It would be Grace’s first party of the year and Caroline was prepared to use violent physical force if she showed any hesitation about showing up.

“Care, I told you. It’s family night, I can’t go.” Elena explained again as patiently as she could. Even Elena had a limit when it came to Caroline. As the three girls began walking toward the school, Matt turned to Grace.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I could drive you to the hos-“ Of course, his go to - ‘I’ll drive you to the hospital’. If Grace seemed anything less than 110% around Matt, he seemed to be transported back to last summer.

“That’s really sweet Matt, but I promise I’m fine. It was just a weird dream that I couldn’t shake off.” He didn’t seem completely convinced, but he wasn’t the type to push, so he simply nodded towards their friends who, by now, were significantly ahead of them.

“We should catch up, huh?” Giving her shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, Matt led the way towards the school. It really is a shame, Grace thought, that Elena doesn’t love him. Matt was sweet and devoted and probably far too much like Elena, but he was too head over heels to notice she’d been pulling away recently. Grace was quite close with both of them, would probably count Matt among her best friends, so she hated to sit back and watch the obviously doomed relationship run its course, but she had no clue what to do about it, or even if she should. Caroline and Bonnie must have felt the same because none of them had made any mention of it. Whatever. It’s not my business.

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Unsurprisingly, the combined efforts of Caroline’s nagging and Matt and Bonnie’s pleading had convinced Elena to ditch family night (though it was probably mostly due to the nagging). While Matt refused to part with his beloved truck, even for a night, Grace offered to drive Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie to the party, partly to convince Caroline about her enthusiasm for the event and partly to convince herself. Matt wasn’t happy about her driving in the dark, not after her accident last summer, but he could suck it.

“I don’t think I even knew this was out here.” Grace was awed at the natural clearing that had been turned into a perfect spot for a party, complete with a raging bonfire smack in the middle. Of course, she’d known there were parties out here, but knowing and knowing were two different things. She hadn’t attended any previous parties in the clearing thanks to her and her sisters’ previously packed schedules, not to mention her boyfriend Bryan’s preference for ‘quiet nights in’, as he put it. But Bryan isn’t here, Grace reminded herself harshly.

“You don’t remember having to come out here when the elementary school decided we were all tyrants and needed to ‘clean up the environment’ or whatever bullshit they fed our parents?” Tyler Lockwood inquired as he handed Grace a solo cup filled with surprisingly cheap beer. She blinked in surprise - not at the beer, or the fact Tyler was here, because of course he was. Rather, that he was speaking to her so casually. I don’t think Tyler and I have managed a casual conversation since… well. It didn’t matter. She would rather not think about the last time she and Tyler managed a conversation - or what that conversation had led to. Again, she had to force herself back to the present.

“I moved here when I was eleven, dumbass. I didn’t go to your elementary school.” Matt choked on his beer at the scandalized look on Tyler’s face when the word ‘dumbass’ left Grace’s lips. If he wants to pretend nothing happened, so can I, she told herself.

“Shit, I totally forgot!” Ben McKittrick interjected, the Senior football player already a little drunk. “You’re, like, from the swamp or something right?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘bayou’, Ben.” As the rest of the football team converged onto the girls, Bonnie rolled her eyes at the apparent stupidity of teenage boys.

“Yeah, I’m from New Orleans.” Grace shrugged, trying to play nonchalant. She always got uncomfortable when people asked about her beloved but rarely mentioned hometown. She still didn’t know how much to mention, how much of their past her parents wanted kept secret.

“How do you go from New Orleans to Mystic Falls, Virginia?” Tyler called as he continued filling cups from the keg for the steady stream of newcomers. Slightly unnerved by his chill demeanor, Grace directed her answer to Ben and the girl currently sitting on his lap - Jessica, maybe, or Janet?

“Uh, my dad transferred jobs. So, you know… we had to come with him.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, running her fingers up and down the contours of her braid. It wasn’t technically a lie. Joseph Sinclair had changed jobs; it was just after they’d already gotten to Mystic Falls. But Grace remembered her parents as completely different to the people they presented themselves as in this town. Joseph and Cecile had always cared for their children dearly, but they hadn’t always extended the same courtesy to others. They made enemies, or at least rivals, and kept secrets. They always kept the door at the end of the downstairs hall in their French Quarter home locked, even to Grace. Over the years, Grace had gathered that her parents must have been Wiccans, and someone in the Quarter – a dangerous someone, someone they mockingly called ‘The King’ – hadn’t liked that. Grace’s parents had gotten sloppy in hiding their doings, and the Nine Covens had chased them out, fearing The King’s wrath against them all. She could still remember the night they left as if it were yesterday.

As they were packing up to leave in the middle of the night, Grace ran out into the courtyard, hoping to spend her last moments in the city in her beloved garden, filled with night-blooming flowers. But there was a man standing on the other side of the wrought iron fence. His mocha-colored skin seemed to glow in the moonlight and Grace could have sworn she saw dark veins under his eyes before she blinked and he was just a normal man, staring at her as if she wasn’t supposed to be there, even though it was her house.

“Hello there,” he said softly. His voice was gravelly, more comforting than she would have expected. “What’s your name?”

“Grace. Grace Sinclair.” Her mother would have had a fit if she knew Grace had told her name to a strange man standing outside their house, but he didn’t seem scary. Something told Grace he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“What are you doing up so late, Grace Sinclair?”

“My parents are making us move.” Grace was perfectly aware 11 was too old for the undignified sulking she was currently displaying, but she couldn’t help it. New Orleans was her lifeblood, the soul of the city thrumming in time with her heartbeat. She didn’t want to leave, even though her parents told her it wasn’t safe anymore. “It was my job to pack for my sisters and I, but…” she trailed her fingertips over the petals of the flowers nearest her, a mixed bed of moonflowers and night gladiolus. “It’s so beautiful here.” Her voice was quiet, more for herself than him, and Grace didn’t expect that he even heard her. But he had.

“I agree. This city is certainly… something else.” Grace smiled at him, glad to have found a kindred spirit, even if it this strange man’s opinion on the city wouldn’t change her parent’s minds. “You mentioned you have sisters?”

“Two of them,” she nodded, again giving him more information than probably advisable, “Chloe and Aimee. They’re younger than me.” Upon hearing this news, something seemed to shift in the man’s expression, though Grace couldn’t say what it was. “They won’t even tell us why we have to leave! And where are we supposed to go? They never see any of our other family!” Grace shook her head stubbornly. “I won’t go.” He stared at her for several long moments, his gaze flickering to the house behind her a few times before returning to her; he appeared to be indecisive about something. Finally, the man reached into the pocket of his suede coat and his hand reemerged, clasped around a small metal object.

“Come over here, Grace.” A part of her knew walking closer to this strange man was not a clever idea, but again that voice inside told her he wasn’t going to hurt her. When she was within an arm’s reach of him, just on the other side of the fence, he leaned down so they were eye level. His eyes were captivating. The deepest brown, like freshly churned soil, and deep set into a face she could now see was quite handsome. Grace found she couldn’t look away from those eyes, didn’t want to. “This is a ring made of a stone called jet. Have you heard of it?” She nodded vaguely, barely glancing at the ring he now held out to show her. It was quite pretty, seemingly naturally forming a rough teardrop shape. But his eyes demanded her attention. “Jet will protect anyone who wears it from anybody who tries to hurt them.” He looked at her even more intensely now, his eyes dilating slightly before returning to normal, despite there being no change in the light. “You’re going to take this ring, Grace. You’re going to wear it or keep it with you, and you’re going to tell your parents you’ve decided you do want to move.”

“I’m going to take the ring.” She assured him. She would do whatever he wanted her to, this captivating man who would never hurt her. “And I’m going to tell my parents I want to move.”

“You’re going to tell your parents that you want to go find family, have relationships with them that you couldn’t before.” Grace distantly remembered her parents mentioning a set of cousins, originating from some extended relative somewhere in Salem… maybe they could live with them? “Do you understand that Grace?”

“I’m going to tell my parents that I want to see my family.”

“And you’re not going to tell anyone that you saw me tonight, Grace.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She swore. He finally broke their intense stare down, leaving Grace feeling a bit bereft. He reached through the rods of the fence, his much bigger hand wrapping around hers and plopping a silver and black ring into her palm - the jet was cased in the center in a rather masculine style, silver fleur-de-lis forming the shoulders off the center stone. It was clearly made for a man, but Grace found it beautiful.

“Gracie!” Aimee called out from somewhere in the house. “Gracie, come inside!” Grace knew the stress was getting to them all, that little Aimee was trying her hardest to keep her tone light and carefree. She turned her head to make sure Aimee wasn’t at the window, wouldn’t see her talking to the stranger. But when she turned her head back, he had vanished.

“Earth to Sinclair! You still in there?” Matt was in front of her, waving his hand in her face.

“What?”

“You just totally spaced out.” Caroline explained. “We thought you were having a stroke.”

“No one thought you were having a stroke.” Bonnie rolled her eyes fondly. “But you were off in your head. Is something wrong?” Grace twirled the mysteriously gifted silver-set jet ring, just small enough to fit on her left thumb. Another jet ring she’d bought for herself, this one not natural but princess cut and set in a thin gold band, flared bright on her right hand in the light of the fire.

“Yeah. Just worrying about a history test.” Jessica-or-Janet, another Junior in Grace’s history class, groaned loudly from her perch in Ben’s lap.

“Please don’t mention that damned test. I just want to have fun tonight!”

“Amen to that!” Grace laughed, raising her beer in the air as if she were toasting the sentiment. Finally moving from her spot on the perimeter of the clearing, she led the way towards the fire with Caroline and Bonnie trailing behind.

None of them noticed Matt pull Elena aside.

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Grace was the designated driver for the night - and had been every night since her accident - so she nursed her single, watery beer for the next several hours. Bonnie and Caroline did not have the same hesitations. As the keg got emptier, the clearing got louder, and soon Grace could hardly hear herself think over the music, laughter, and drunken, too-loud conversations of her peers. She watched, amused, as Caroline stumbled over to her on cute, but ill-advised heeled boots.

“Have I tol’ you how much I love your hair?” She slurred with a smile.

“It’s exactly the same as yours, Care Bear.” Before Grace could even finish her protestation, Caroline was waggling her finger and scowling as if arguing a particularly important topic.

“No. No, i’z not! Tizz longer, and ‘s lighter, and i’z very, very thick!” Somehow managing to mispronounce a word three separate ways in one sentence was a new personal record for Caroline. But Grace knew from experience that, when drunk, Affectionate Caroline was very closely followed by Crying Caroline, so she set her own beer on a tree stump next to her and gently tried to pry the red plastic cup out of Caroline’s hand. “Get your own!” But Care’s reflexes were much slower, and by the time she tried to yank the cup away, Grace already had it in hand.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Care.”

“But-“

“How about I undo my braid and you can style my hair?” Pleased with that trade off, Caroline clapped and giggled in excitement, nearly bouncing up and down while waiting for Grace to carefully separate the two braids running down the right side of her head.

“You look like a Viking when you do it like that.” Bonnie’s speech was significantly more stable than Caroline’s, but her gait was far from graceful.

“That’s the idea.” Grace muttered. Caroline was right, Grace’s hair was exceptionally long and thick, and to keep it manageable she wore it in some kind of braid nearly every day. She tried to change it up a bit, switching from a French braid to fishtail, twin braids to crowns to plaits, but her favorites were inspired by her mother’s Nordic heritage – half-head braids and the traditional ‘Viking braid’ especially. Having finally unwound the two thin, vertical snake braids that made up today’s look, Grace shook out her hair for a moment before moving her and Caroline’s discarded beers to the ground and sitting on the tree stump, a perfect height to be her friend’s Barbie doll for the night.

“Where did you get your hair?” Bonnie asked, unprompted.

“I was born with it?” Grace’s confused response came out sounding more like a question.

“No, I know that”, Bonnie rolled her eyes. “I meant, like, genetically. We might be third cousins or whatever, but your dad still gets his hair from my side of the family.” That was true. Joseph Sinclair’s hair was thick and mahogany brown, very unlike Grace’s. “And your mom is blonde, but her hair is like…” Bonnie paused for a moment, alcohol dulling her ability to find the right word. “Thin. Her hair is thin, and her and Chloe’s hair is browner than yours.” That was also true. Grace’s younger sister could have been a carbon copy of Cecile 20 years ago, both of them with dark blonde hair and brown eyes. Aimee, two years younger than Grace, looked the most like their father, whose own mother had been the white bartender at the bar frequented by Edward Sinclair - Joseph had been raised by his mother and though that could not possibly have changed his physical appearance, he certainly looked more like her. His own children, had they been lined up in order, would have looked like a printer being re-filled with ink - Grace, pale, platinum haired, and as Swedish-looking as her mother’s ancestors; Chloe, dishwater blonde and American as apple pie; and Aimee, whose brown hair and broad features echoed their father’s.

“Who knows?” Grace shrugged, not that concerned with the origins of her hair color. “Maybe some long-ago ancestor had white-blonde hair or something.” Caroline had managed to pull together one decent braid down the left side of Grace’s back and was moving to the right half when a bit of a commotion caught their attention.

“Seriously?” Matt cried from somewhere deeper into the woods. Elena stomped into the clearing, beelining directly for their tree stump.

“I’m going home.” She muttered, seeming more exhausted than angry.

“Okay, yeah, let me just-“

“No, stay, Grace. I’ll call my parents. Give us a chance to do family night, anyway.” She smiled wryly.

“Are you sure?” Grace was already starting to stand when Elena gently pushed her back down.

“Yes. Stay. Have fun. I’m not ruining three peoples’ night just because I fought with my boyfriend.” Grace started to speak again, to ask about the fight and make sure Elena was okay, when she barreled on. “Besides, you look like an idiot with only half your hair braided. I couldn’t risk being seen with you.” Laughing through her fake indignation, Grace and the girls waved goodbye to Elena and promised to talk more tomorrow, when Caroline would no doubt give her the third degree and analyze every second of whatever happened between her and Matt. Grace watched Elena walk towards the road and pull out her phone, putting it to her ear, before the distance and the lack of light became too much and she was lost to the night. Assured that Elena would soon be safely headed home, Grace turned back to her friends.

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Despite having little to no alcohol in her system, Grace had been convinced by both Caroline and Bonnie to stay until they were almost the last people in the clearing.

“Come on, you two.” Grace sighed, attempting to guide both Caroline and Bonnie towards her waiting BMW. She vaguely wondered if Matt had gotten home alright, since she had only glimpsed him once since Elena’s departure and it was at the keg. But then Caroline tripped over her own foot and Grace lurched forward to grab the usually graceful girl before she face-planted. Caroline thought the whole thing was hilarious, and Bonnie for some reason thought it would be a good idea to mock her friend, and Grace had to catch her as well - but somehow Grace finally managed to get them both in the car and buckled, though not completely cognizant or upright, before heading home. Thank fuck Caroline is staying the night with me. If the Sheriff caught her daughter acting completely sloshed and sneaking in way past curfew, she might very well ship Caroline off to live with her father. Or in a nunnery. Who knew with Liz Forbes? Wanting to avoid taking the nearer Wickery Bridge, as even before the Worst Night of her Life bridges had seemed shady in Grace’s opinion, she took the longer, more sensible route back into town. If only I had been driving that night… but with Caroline and Bonnie drunkenly arguing in the backseat, now was not the time to be thinking about the accident.

Both girls were asleep by the time Grace got home, but she was able to rouse Bonnie enough for them to half-carry Caroline inside and up to Grace’s bedroom, where they deposited her on the bed unceremoniously.

“I’m getting water and Aspirin for tomorrow. Try to make sure she doesn’t die while I’m gone, yeah?” Bonnie drunkenly waved off Grace’s request but sat down next to Caroline’s prone form anyway.

When her two charges were taken care of, Grace took up Bonnie’s position next to Caroline while Bonnie curled up on the bench at the foot of the bed. Not wonderful sleeping conditions, but no one really cared.

“G’night Gracie.” Bonnie mumbled. Caroline snored in response, but Grace was asleep before any other comment was made.

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At 10:30 the next morning, all three girls stumbled into the kitchen to begin their attempt at pretending they hadn’t broken the law right under their parents’ noses last night. Cecile was making bacon and eggs and Joseph had coffee and Bonnie’s favorite creamer ready to go. The TV in the corner was on, beginning the 11:00 news as everyone dug into their food.

“…A fatal accident last night on Wickery Bridge has left two local teens grieving-“ Every head popped up and focused on the television with laser precision. Dread settled in Grace’s stomach as déjà vu began to creep over her. “…Grayson Gilbert was driving last night with his wife Miranda and daughter Elena, a sophomore at Mystic Falls High School, when he lost control of the car and drove off Wickery Bridge.” Horrified silence filled the room. Someone dropped their fork. The clatter of metal against ceramic seemed entirely too loud. “Miraculously, Elena Gilbert managed to escape the car and swim to the riverbank, where police say she fell unconscious. Grayson and Miranda were, unfortunately, trapped in the car as it sank. The two locals leave behind 16-year old Elena and a son, 15-year old Jeremy Gilbert.”

“Oh my God.” Bonnie whispered. Aimee and Chloe covered their mouths, shocked and speechless.

“My mom.” Caroline croaked. “I have to talk to my mom.” As the Sheriff, Liz Forbes likely would have seen Elena and Jeremy by now and would certainly have more information. Joseph seemed stunned but nodded vaguely.

“I’ll drive you. Bonnie, is there…?” He trailed off, not quite knowing what he was asking. She nodded anyway.

“I’d like to come if that’s okay. I want to ask if we can see Elena.” The trio filed outside, unnaturally stiff and quiet.

“I’m… I’m gonna see if anyone else knows anything.” Aimee murmured, her and Chloe walking out of the kitchen holding on to each other as if that would rewind the last 12 hours. The kitchen was silent again, the only sound the droning of the news, which had moved on to the weather. As they heard Grace’s father’s car drive away, Cecile spoke.

“You said something happened to Elena.” The words were almost too quiet to hear, would have been if anyone had been moving.

“What?” Grace now noticed that her cheeks were wet, throat tight with a million questions no one could answer. That goddamn bridge… why is it always that goddamn bridge?

“Yesterday morning.” Her mother repeated, a bit louder. “You said you needed to get to school because something bad had happened to Elena and you wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“Yeah, but nothing had happened. I just had a bad dream.” Grace’s mind was sluggish, not connecting the dots.

“Did you? Or did you know that something bad was going to happen to your friend?” Grace’s gaze slowly moved from the TV to her mother’s face, which was attempting to communicate a message Grace didn’t want to understand. Because her mother was right. Now that the dreadful thing had happened, Grace could clearly remember the dream she’d had that caused her to worry the previous morning. It was the first day of Grace’s senior year and hardly anyone had seen Elena or Jeremy all summer as they dealt with the fallout of their parents’ car driving over the Wickery Bridge. Grace had just wanted to make sure Elena was doing okay, or as well as could be expected.

“Holy shit.”

0 notes

webcricket · 7 years

Text

Catch a Falling Star

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester, and special guest, Crowley

Word Count: 2101 (Part 5)

A/N: Part 5 of a Soulmate AU mini-series.

Summary: What if angels didn’t end up just anywhere when they are banished by sigils…what if sometimes they end up exactly where they need to be? Turns out you are Castiel’s grounding stone, and it’s more complicated than either of you realizes. Crowley magnanimously tips the Winchesters off to a brooding danger regarding their feathered cohort. Cas gets a taste of the ordinary life.

Completed series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/165166387163/catch-a-falling-star-masterlist

“I’m telling you. Stone cold, it was weird,” Dean alleged, six-pack of ice cold lagers clinking as he set them on the library table. Condensation oozed out onto the polished mahogany surface of the wood from the mushy edges of cardboard. “I mean, we both know I’m hilarious and I didn’t get so much as a single giggle out of her.”

“Yeah,” Sam snorted mockingly, “weird.” Dean garnered minimal sympathy from his brother on account of Sam’s long-suffering endurance of Dean’s habitually incessant jocularity as a method to diffuse stress between hunts. The hilarity, with repeated exposure, had devolved into background noise – something akin to the monotonous humming tread of the Impala’s tires on asphalt rather than humor. Sam thought from Dean’s account of his conversation with you that you sounded like a perfectly reasonable and discerning individual and someone whose personality matched well to the angel’s decidedly temperate wit.

Dean snapped the metal cap off one of the bottles, the sharp wet hiss of pressurization bubbling in the air. He continued speculating, “I’d bet you anything…”

The younger Winchester noticed the dapperly dressed figure idling in the alcove of bookshelves first.

“…she’s…,” Dean trailed off, spying his brother’s annoyed glower.

Crowley made no overt attempt to conceal his presence, taking full advantage of Dean’s self-indulgent deliberation to surprise the brothers. Rule one of ruling: You don’t become King of Hell without taking advantage of every opportunity, however quaint, to vaingloriously make an unannounced entrance.

Sam’s scowl deepened into the line of his brow, his eyes trained cagily on the shamelessly shrugging demon.

Dean followed his brother’s irked gaze and proceeded to choke on his beer, sputtering, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Hello boys,” Crowley crooned, a conciliatory smile toying upon his lips. He held up a half-empty carafe of whisky to his nose, disapproval glinting in his piercingly cool mien as he swished the amber liquid around and inhaled. “By the way, where do you keep the good stuff?”

“We don’t,” Dean groused, losing the will to drink his beer.

“Hmm,” Crowley frowned critically, “then how do you expect to entertain your esteemed guests while they wait?”

“We’re not here to provide you with entertainment,” Sam retorted through a clenched jaw, his frustration over their repeatedly failing errand to locate a mysterious all-important treasure chest and deliver it over to the demon boiling his blood.

“I beg to differ, on the whole I find you boys moderately more entertaining than a box of rocks,” Crowley observed smugly, revolving to set the carafe on a side table. “Marginally less intelligent, but you can’t win them all, can you?”

“You leave the door unlocked again?” Dean accused his brother without looking at him.

“No,” Sam’s voice wavered, not actually one-hundred percent certain of his answer, realizing he might have forgotten to lock it after his morning run. They’d exited later from the garage egress so it would have been overlooked. “Maybe?”

“Sammy, how many times do I have to…”

“Kids!” Crowley interrupted. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?” He sauntered into the golden glow of lamplight, burying his hands in his pockets, the glossy sheen of his coat fabric attesting to a keenly refined taste for extravagance. “Speaking of which, I thought you boys could use a cheerful pick-me-up in the form of, well, me. You know, to liven up the empty nest and all.” He flashed an affable grin at the brothers to no avail.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean snarled, shooting a chagrinned here-we-go-again glance in Sam’s direction.

Crowley stepped nearer the table, feigning interest in an open book placed thereupon. Leisurely extricating a hand from the deep recess of his overcoat pocket, stretching out the torture of the brothers’ aggravated anticipation of his reply, his tongue grazed the tip of a pointed finger in preparation to leaf through the brittle yellow folio. “Rumor has it your beloved homing pigeon has flown the coop. Got his feathers all ruffled over some pretty dove in New York,” Crowley elucidated casually, persevering in the pretense of studying the text before him while gauging the brothers’ response to this sensational suggestion regarding their stowaway seraph in his peripheral vision.

“And?” Dean rolled his vibrant green eyes, allowing the tenseness seizing his shoulders to relax.

Sam, too, appeared more at ease – alert scowl dissolving into a passive glare.

Crowley cursed internally, not permitting his chagrin at not being the one to deliver the lurid news to the brothers to shroud his debonair disinterested demeanor. “And, if you’ve any hope of retrieving my box and holding up your end of our mutually beneficial little arrangement, you’re going to need your goose and his golden halo to fall back in line.”

“We’ll find your stupid box,” Dean grumbled. “And enough with the bird metaphors already, Hitchcock.”

Crowley sneered impudently at Dean.

“How did you hear about Cas anyway?” Sam quizzically arched an eyebrow.

“A sparrow chirped in my ear just before I broke his neck,” Crowley stated ominously. “Between you and me, I’m afraid I’m not the only one who heard him sing this particular song.”

“Who else– son of a!” Dean swore at the currently empty space previously occupied by the now cheekily decamped demon.

Second rule of ruling: Startling arrivals must be punctuated by inconveniently timed exits. In other words, always leave your audience wanting more.

“Castiel?”

The convalescent angel felt the light tickle of your fingertips trace beneath the tufts of dark waves ringing his forehead, perceiving your whispered prayer as a resonant echo in the stillness of his mind. Hours ago, the consciousness of his vessel had succumbed to the warmth of the dappled late afternoon sun streaming through the treetops, the rhythmic splashing lap of water on the graveled lake shore, the joyful harmony of bird and insect venerating the glorious day, the comfort of the oversized generously stuffed lounge chair, and most of all to the waking dream of you tending to a shaded patch of the garden tucked below the porch railing. Before his marveling eyes, your nurturing hands patiently teased life itself from the barren soil.

“Are you awake?”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. Despite the finally stymied hemorrhage of grace from his shoulder wound and his rapidly recharging vigor, he could not deny an intense fondness for your continued yet wholly unnecessary doting care.

“You’re doing that eyes-closed super-relaxed thing you insist isn’t sleep again,” you noted with a grin, taming the mop of his unruly hair with your fingers, prompting him to open his eyes.

He grasped your dirt-smudged hand, guiding it to his lips to pepper your knuckles with feather-light kisses, appreciating the fact these very same hands that worked tiny miracles in the earth had also sparked something vital in his own heart that bloomed under your tender affection. “Disengaging awareness from my surroundings is the most efficient method by which to expedite my recovery.”

“Uh huh,” you chewed your lower lip skeptically, “it’s uncanny how much that description sounds exactly like sleep.”

Cas’ smile widened, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, wavering when he spotted his cell phone clutched in your palm.

“It’s Dean,” you offered him the phone, adding, “I don’t think he likes me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” the angel accepted the cell, focus following your retreat back into the yard amidst the rainbow of flourishing flowers. He held the phone up to his ear, an indignant gleam in his expression, “Why don’t you like Y/N?”

“Geez, hello to you too, Cas,” Dean grumbled.

“She thinks you don’t like her,” Cas reiterated, “why?”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t like me.”

“How could she not like you when she doesn’t know you?”

“She doesn’t laugh at my jokes.”

“I don’t laugh at your jokes,” Cas stated matter-of-factly.

After a lapse of silence which prompted the angel to check the screen to ascertain if the call had been dropped, Dean again spoke, “I, uh, yeah, I guess you have a point. And for the record, I never said I didn’t like her. She sounds great Cas, really. Sam and I, we’re both happy for you. I’m glad you took my advice to heart and gave her a chance.”

For friendship’s sake, Cas permitted Dean to believe his drunken anecdote had a smidgeon of influence where it had not, responding, “Me too.” In reality, the angel never had any choice. The stubbornness and insubordination in affront to universal will to delay the inevitable? Certainly. But choice? Never – you were always something that was going to happen to him and he to you.

“So, you, uh, you keeping busy out there?”

“This morning we went to a farmer’s market to purchase seasonal produce. Are you aware there is more than one variety of sweet corn grown for human consumption? There’s silver queen, with pearlescent kernels that are so tender it doesn’t require cooking to render it edible. In the butter and sugar hybrid, the kernels are a mix of white and yellow…”

“Sounds exciting,” Dean’s tone indicated he thought Cas’ bucolic foray sounded like it was the exact opposite of exciting.

“Tonight, Y/N is going to teach me how to make something called some mores.”

“You mean, s’mores?”

“That’s what I said, some mores.”

“No Cas, it’s called a s’more, not some more.” The fleshy smack of a palm striking a forehead sounded in the speaker. Sam could be heard heartily chuckling in the background.

“You’re not making any sense, Dean.” Cas could hear Dean’s eyes sardonically rolling around in their sockets. The disconcerting noise only added to the angel’s bewilderment.

“S. Apostrophe. More,” Sam spelled it out, having seized control of the conversation from his flabbergasted brother.

“Oh,” Cas nodded, “thank you for the clarification, Sam. That explains my inability to find any information regarding them on Google.”

“Anytime, Cas. Have fu…” Sam’s words faded as Dean grabbed the phone again.

“Look, not to rain on the co-ed scout camp jamboree thing you’ve obviously got going on out there, but we thought you should know according to Crowley, who dropped by for a pleasant chat about his stupid freaking box, we’re not the only ones who know about you and Y/N.”

Dean’s warning devastated Cas’ reigning sense of calm, reminding him about the dangerous world lurking beyond your enchanting lakeside realm. Bolting to his feet, he anxiously scanned the garden. Finding you safe and sound stringing a vine up a trellis, he breathed a relieved sigh as he sat on the top stair to better keep a watchful eye on you.

Dean continued, “We got a salt and burn a few states over, then we’re heading your way. So just watch your back until we get there, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that, Dean. You should continue trying to locate Crowley’s box. If he wants it that badly, we can’t let him get ahold of it until we know what it contains.”

“Right,” Dean agreed, “which is why we need your help finding it.”

Cas understood. He understood the Winchesters, his brothers in arms, were coming to take him away from you and that he would go forth willingly by their side as he’d always done. He understood he could stay to defend you within the boundaries of your home, or he could soldier away to better shield your exposure to the gruesome minutiae of the never-ending battle of good versus evil within which he was forever firmly entrenched. “How long until you get here?” he asked Dean, observing your figure meandering up the cobblestone walkway toward him.

“Three days, maybe less if this ghost cooperates,” Dean answered. “You know what, just call it three days. We’ll snag a motel in town if we get there early to stay out of your hair. Enjoy the s’mores.” The call ended.

“Are we expecting visitors?” you bounded up the stairs and settled beside the angel, head dropping to rest on his mended shoulder.

“Sam and Dean will be here in a few days.”

“That’s great!” you beamed, “I can’t wait to meet them. I know how important they are to you.”

Cas wound an arm around your waist, pulling you nearer and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. He inhaled the scent of your hair, honey and lavender riven with the rich loam of the earth and sunshine. For an angel, three days seemed only a slightly longer timeframe than the fleeting span of milliseconds marking the blink of an eye. It’s worth every minute, Dean’s sentiment echoed in his mind.

Part 6:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/164058430460/catch-a-falling-star

160 notes · View notes

peachdaydream · 7 years

Text

Lovesick Students

Group: DAY6

Focus: No one in particular

Genre: Comedy, fluff, Highschool!AU

Word Count: 5139

Requested by Anonymous: OKAY BUT HEADCANON IDEA ABT DAY6 IN SCHOOL So Dowoon is being followed around by his fanclub but he's actually super in love with Jae, who's actually in love with that girl™ but that girl™ loves Brian but Brian loves Wonpil and Wonpil is madly in love with Sungjin and it's one big shit show omg this would be such a funny comedy

Note: Based on the “What Can I Do?” MV! I had a ton of fun writing this one up!! Special shouts to @yeojinsun for making sure this didn’t get confusing, aha ^^;;

“Morning, guys!” you greeted warmly, a smile on your face as you got a jumbled chorus of ‘good morning!’ from your students. “No new announcements this week. But it’s that time of year again, it’s time for your guidance talks! You should all know the drill by now, I need to see all of you once at some point in these next few weeks. I’ll be right here at both break and lunch, so just drop by alone,” you emphasised the word, giving a pointed look to the group of girls who you knew had a tendency to glue themselves to a certain silent student.

After you took the register you allowed them to do their own thing whilst you waited for the late students and did some of your own lesson planning and book marking, helping your students who were confused by their homework whenever they asked. Other than the occasional commotion that was caused by Young K telling Dowoon’s unwanted entourage to shut up, your homeroom class was usually pretty easy going - not too chaotic but not silently obedient either, it was a happy medium.

“Remember to come see me for your talks, it’s no fun for me or you if I have to chase after you,” you reminded your bunch after the bell rung, standing from your seat to ready yourself for your next class as the students filed out.

i. the heartthrob

Yoon Dowoon was always one of the first who turned up for the guidance talks, he also tended to take up all lunch to talk to you — you didn’t mind, of course. You figured it was the only time he was able to talk to someone who didn’t see him for just his looks and actually wanted to talk to him as a person. You could tell that he liked talking to you about his aspirations and dreams for the future because he knew that you would never belittle him or tell him to give up because it was too out of reach, instead you would give him your support and tell him of the ways in which he could go out and chase his dreams, you gave him hope for the future instead of bringing him down.

Honestly, it was a shame that he was always being bothered as he was the sweetest and kindest boy you had the pleasure of teaching, but instead of having friends that could see that side of him, he was surrounded by girls who only liked him for what they saw on the surface and had no real interest in getting to know him on a deeper level.

On some level, you admired the strength he had to endure each day of school knowing what awaited him as soon as he walked through the gates. However, you also felt slight sorrow for him as it meant that each day he wasn’t able to talk to anyone or make any friends and you knew better than anyone in the school that Yoon Dowoon was a sensitive boy and craved friendship just as much as the next person, you knew he often felt lonely and you only hoped that you could lessen that feeling with the talks you often had.

Needless to say, you noticed his brightened demeanour when he came to your classroom during lunch for his guidance talk with a little extra spring in his step and you couldn’t help but smile — you had always found his happiness infectious. With Dowoon you knew that he found it easy to talk with you about anything and everything; from his progress in his classes to how he saw a cute dog that morning and was almost late to school because he stopped to pet it.

“Alright, what’s got you in a good mood?” you chuckled as he pulled up a chair to sit on the other side of your desk. “Other than the fact you get to eat in peace.”

“I think I’ve finally made a friend who doesn’t care about my looks and isn’t easily chased away,” the drummer responded with a cute little grin, the sound of pure elation and happiness in his tone from the aspect of making a friend made your heart swell with joy for him.

“Good! It’s about time someone saw past that pretty face of yours and actually saw you for who you are,” you spoke, looking at the boy in front of you fondly with a warm smile on your face.

Without needing prompting, Dowoon proceeded to freely tell you about how he made his friend and how much he knew and liked about his friend, a bright smile on his face that matched the tone of his voice as he talked about his new friendship. You listened intently, giving him responses and letting him to talk for as long as he wanted to.

“Wait, Dowoon,” you spoke up, quirking an eyebrow at the student across from you. “Are you sure this person’s just a friend?” He stared at you in question, not really understanding your inquiry, causing you to chuckle softly at his innocence before speaking again, “It sounds like you’re very fond of them, maybe you have a crush?”

At that you could see his ears begin to go red as he tried to stutter out an answer, his cool image cracking, “Uh, I don’t know, well, I guess...maybe?” he paused for a moment in thought and you waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. “...Now that you mention it...I think...I might have a crush?”

“It’s okay if you’re not sure,” you chuckled, seeing a tinge of pink dust across his cheeks. “Just carry on being friends and if you need someone to talk to about anything, you know where I am. But, for right now, get your butt outta here or else you’ll be late for class.”

“Oh! Right!” he blinked, looking over to the clock and picking his bag up, putting the chair back behind it’s desk as he stood up. “Thanks for listening to me, Miss (L/N).”

“Anytime, Dowoon,” you hummed, getting up to open the door for him with a warm smile. “Who’s your friend, anyways? You never told me a name.”

He rushed to the door but he paused long enough to give you a mumbled answer before he quickly scurried away to his next class.

“...He plays the guitar.”

ii. the best friend

You gave up on trying to figure out Dowoon’s crush after that day, your mind had gone completely blank when you tried to think of any student who mentioned playing the guitar and you didn’t want to be too nosy — it would be invasive and borderline inappropriate for you to do so as his teacher. So you allowed it to slip from your mind, focusing your energy on your other students who came to see you for their talks.

Speaking of which, you had thought no one would come see you today so you were happily having your lunch and drinking your coffee. Your mind wandered serenely as you looked out of the window, somewhat wistfully wishing that you were outside and enjoying the sun and fresh-

“Yo, Miss (L/N)!” a loud voice greeted abruptly, causing you to jump and almost spit out your coffee as you spun around in your chair, wide eyed and hand laying over your racing heart.

Park Jaehyung, the bane of your teaching career. You mean it playfully, of course — you actually enjoyed the light and playful atmosphere he seemed to carry everywhere he went, but with that playfulness came a dash of mischief that Jae never had a shortage of. His brand of mischief was harmless so, much like Dowoon, he wasn’t disliked by anybody in any of his classes — he was very much one who brought life to places no matter where he was. He was a source of happiness and support, you found that he was a student that those younger than him thought of as an older sibling and you had seen him on multiple occasions doting and supporting those younger than him, showing a softer side to him that was under his harmless teasing.

Of course, with so many leaning on his support and happiness, it was only natural that he needed someone to vent to and have a moment of rest, to recharge his energy and allow himself to lean onto someone else for support.

For the majority of the time his support came from his close friend Jiwoo, but for the times he needed advice and support on things concerning his future and whatnot, he usually spoke to you because he trusted you to tell him nothing but the raw truth and give him the information he needed to make his own decisions.

“Oh my goodness, Jae! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you scolded playfully, setting your coffee down while Jae just grinned at at your shocked form, pulling up a chair in front of your desk and sitting on it backwards, making himself comfortable.

“I need your advice.”

“That’s kind of what I’m here for,” you hummed with a chuckle as you set your coffee down and looked at him. “Alright, shoot.”

“Okay so, let’s say, hypothetically that I have a crush on someone,” he began, waiting for you to nod before he carried on, “that I have known since I was a kid, how would I go about seeing if my hypothetical feelings are returned?”

“...Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

"...Right." You paused for a moment to think and Jae watched you intently — you could tell as he had a habit of blinking a lot when he was really looking at something. "Well, my hypothetical advice would be to test the waters a bit to see how she'd react — nothing too obvious but also not so subtle that she just thinks that you're being nice. If she notices and blushes but doesn't try to stop you, that probably means that she feels the same but if she keeps on brushing you off then it'll be safe to assume she doesn't feel the same."

"So, in this hypothetical situation, which is totally made up since it is hypoth-"

"Jae, stop saying 'hypothetical', you've said it so much that it doesn't even sound like a word anymore."

"Sure, so you wouldn't suggest outright telling her?"

"No, but don't try to hide it either. She'll probably know that you're trying to hide something or catch onto you if you start acting strange since you've known each other for so long."

"So...just be chill about it?"

"Yes, be a little more doting and caring toward her and try not to tease Jiw— I mean, her as much as you do," you suggested, quickly catching your slip up of almost saying his best friend's name in order to keep the facade that Jae had put up.

You took another sip of your coffee as the student across from you delved into his own thoughts, probably deliberating on what to do with his crush.

If you looked close enough, you could see the cogs turning in his head as his thoughts ran through his head.

...

He's pouring way too much thought into this 'hypothetical' situation.

"Jae?" you spoke up after a while, setting your coffee down once more as he hummed to indicate that he was paying attention. "This situation isn't really hypothetical, right? You're talking about your crush on Jiwoo—"

"No! Of course not! It was purely hypothetical!" he denied quickly, his eyes widening as he looked at you before he panicked further upon being figured out and blurted, "Gotta go! I'll be late to class!"

You looked at the flustered boy in front of you with amusement as he got his things together. You glanced over to the clock hanging on the wall and chuckled, "Jae, you've got plenty of time before class st—"

"Thanks for the advice! Bye!"

And with that he was gone, leaving you amused at your desk, only a little guilty that you flustered him so much and wishing him luck on whatever he planned to do next.

iii. that girl™

It wasn’t long until the subject of Jae’s affection came for her ‘guidance’ talk — which was steadily turning into a talk with the apparent love adviser (Y/N) as the days passed and students came in with their love problems.

Honestly, you didn’t get paid enough to do this.

If it wasn’t for your fondness of your students you would’ve shut down the love talks long ago, so when Kim Jiwoo shyly entered your classroom asking for some advice, you only gave her a smile, paused in your book marking and gestured for her to sit down.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, watching as she fidgeted in her seat which was odd for her since her behaviour was usually similar to Jae’s loud and playful attitude.

“Um...is it weird if I have a crush on someone I’ve never really spoken to before?” she asked, a red tinge on her cheeks as she voiced her question, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked up to you.

You blinked at her question, sure you expected her answer to have something to do with having a crush, but a crush on someone she’d never spoken to before was a new one. Then again, a lot of people had crushes on people they’ve never spoken to — you could barely judge since you had way too many crushes on idols and celebrities when you were younger.

With that in mind you reassured her as you said with a shrug, “No, not at all. A lot of people have crushes like that so it’s not weird. But if you can talk to them, then go for it because what’s the worst that could happen? You might even become friends and have a chance to act on your feelings.”

“But what if he’s not what I expected? Or if he’s hard to approach?” Jiwoo asked, going on to list all the bad things that could happen — some of them extremely outlandish — and completely overthinking the idea of talking to her crush.

“Jiwoo—” you attempted to interrupt, amused at some of the situations her mind came up with, “Jiwoo. Jiwoo, calm down! You’re thinking way too much into this, nothing bad’ll happen from saying hello. If you find out he’s a bad person or something then you’ll be glad that you found out sooner than developing a bigger crush on him later without knowing what kind of person he is. Just say hi and see where it goes from there.”

Jiwoo quietened down, going into her own thoughts and you went back to your marking whilst she did so, humming quietly to yourself.

A minute into your marking a thought barrelled into your thoughts and slapped you across the face, you movements stilling and your humming stopped completely as the thought of a certain pink haired student popped into your head.

Oh...hm...well...shit.

Those exact words passed through your head once you realised the conundrum that you found yourself in. As casually as you could, you closed the book you were marking and said, “I mean, if it doesn’t work out...you’ll always have Jae, right?”

“Jae? Sure, I guess, but I can’t really talk to him about this one, I don’t think he’d particularly like who I have a crush on...” she trailed off, biting her lip as she thought about her best friend.

“Oh?” That piqued your interest and it showed in your voice as you inquired, “Why? Who is it?”

The girl before you immediately went red and looked down to look at her fidgeting hands on her lap, mumbling her answer so quietly that you strained your ears to hear her and had to ask her to repeat what she had said. You feared that she might actually faint with how impossibly red she got when she repeated her answer, this time clear enough that you could understand her but still had to strain your ears.

“...Young K?” surprise was clear in your tone as you spoke, sitting up straight as you looked at Jiwoo. “Young K as in Younghyun, who practically owns the corner window seat in homeroom?” She only nodded in response and you hummed, “Well, if it’s Younghyun or not, just go say hi.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Mhm!” you nodded before glancing over to the clock that hung on the wall, “Have you eaten yet, Jiwoo? It’s already halfway through lunch so you should get something to eat if you haven’t yet.”

“Oh! I have eaten but I need to go meet up with Jae by the music practice rooms,” she quickly picked her bag up and put the chair back where it was behind one of the desks. “Thanks for talking to me, Miss (Y/N), it helped a lot!”

“Do you play something?” you asked curiously before she left your classroom, twirling your pen around in your hand, you mind going back to your talk with Dowoon before dismissing the possibility of Jiwoo being the drummer’s crush; you were certain Dowoon’s crush was a he.

“No, but Jae plays the guitar. See you tomorrow!” were her parting words before she shut the door behind her.

“...Jae...plays the guitar?” you said to yourself, your voice strained as you stopped twirling your pen. “That means...Dowoon...has a crush...on Jae...who has a crush on Jiwoo...who has a crush on Young K...”

The more you thought about the ridiculous situation that’s been set in motion, the more you thought that you really needed a raise from this k-drama-esque love circle, your grip tightening on your pen as moments passed.

“And I...I just gave them all advice about their crushes...”

The pen you were holding snapped in your hand at your realisation.

iv. the bad boy

The morning after Jiwoo’s confession and your mind melting epiphany consisted of witnessing Dowoon glance over to Jae who was trying to flirt with Jiwoo who was talking to him and trying to keep her staring at Young K to a minimum whilst Young K was oblivious to the whole thing and had his headphones in, seemingly unsuspecting and untroubled.

To say you experienced a enormous internal crisis was putting it lightly when Kang Younghyun came to you for his guidance talk to tell you he had a crush on a certain sunshine boy.

Younghyun, who was the resident and mildly infamous bad boy of the school, better known as Young K, and Wonpil, the brightest and happy-go-lucky student you had ever met, who practically brought sunshine and sparkles everywhere he met.

It was an odd combination if one looked at it from the surface, you had to admit.

But you knew Young K and you knew that underneath that untouchable demeanour and somewhat intimidating aura, he was a boy with a heart as pure as gold. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges but you knew that under all of his reckless behaviour was a boy who played the bass as a hobby, got straight A’s in all of his classes and volunteered at pet shelters almost every weekend when he could.

Through the talk you found that you were no longer the only one who knew of the softer side of him, there was another who he let chip down his guarded walls and allowed to get to know him and see him as himself instead of a troublemaker who’s constantly followed around with a ton of unsavoury rumours.

You were conflicted when he asked you for advice on what to do because on one hand, it was rare for the purple haired student to feel anything about anyone and you wanted to help him develop relationships of his own so he didn’t have to be so alone all the time, but, on the other hand, you had to take Jiwoo’s feelings toward the boy she had never spoken and confession to you the literal day before to into account.

Of course, that automatically meant you also had to think about how your advice to Young K could not only affect Jiwoo’s feeling but Jae and Dowoon’s as well.

You really weren’t paid enough to give this kind of advice, nor did you have the qualifications to be a love doctor.

Maybe you should just start telling them you don’t know what they should do and let them decide what to do with their feelings.

You allowed yourself to entertain the thought for a brief second before you looked back to Young K, who looked totally lost and unsure as to what to do with his feelings which made sense; he never really talked to his other classmates and had friendships let alone crushes, so it was understandable that he was overwhelmed because who wouldn’t be in his situation? And of course he came to you for advice because you were pretty much the only person he felt comfortable to open up to and talk to about his feelings because he knew you saw him for who he really was and-

Goddamnit.

There was no way you could give the answer of ‘I don’t know’.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night for weeks knowing that you had left Young K alone and with no one else to turn to that could give him serious advice.

“Well...” you noticed your voice kind of sounded strained so you quickly cleared your throat and forced your voice back to normal before you carried on, “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to tag along with you the next time you volunteer at the pet shelter?”

“Do...you think he’d like it?” he asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“I think so,” you hummed, finding his sudden shift of demeanour endearing as you reassured him, “He always tells me about how much he loves animals and how much he wants to adopt a pet. Maybe you could help him pick out a dog or something?”

“I could do that,” he nodded, looking happy with the idea since he would be comfortable, in his element and more importantly — surrounded by dogs. “Ah, I better get going before the hallways get too crowded for me to get through...”

“Let me know how it goes, okay? I’ll be happy to help,” you hummed happily as he got up and put the chair back behind a desk before grabbing his bag and walking over to the door.

“Oh, and by the way...” he paused in the doorway and looked back at you, “Thank you, Miss (L/N).”

Almost immediately a soft smile appeared on your lips as you looked at the plum haired student, “Anytime, Young K.”

Was it wrong that you were kind of rooting for this to work out for him?

Ah, oh well.

You couldn’t deny that you had a soft spot for the boy with a heart of gold.

v. the ball of sunshine

You could have sworn to every holy deity that the past week had taken about ten years off your lifespan and probably caused some premature hair greying.

Why were all of your students falling for each other all at once? And why were they all coming to you about it? You don’t know but you’d sure as Hell like some answers.

As much as you adored your students, you couldn’t help but feel like they saw you more like an older sibling rather than their homeroom teacher and sometimes treated you as such when they sought you out for advice.

You weren’t quite sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

Sure, you loved to help them out but you could only hold so many of their secrets and at that moment, you felt like you were going to explode with how much they trusted you with whilst you had no one to talk to about it and allow you to feel some relief.

Apparently you were good at hiding the fact since your students still came to you for advice and gave you more of their secrets to keep.

You could almost feel strands of your hair turn grey when Kim Wonpil bounced into your classroom and told you about his crush on his long-term friend, Sungjin — which you found was extremely similar to Jae’s circumstance, except this time, you had to be extremely careful with your words so you didn’t accidentally set off an explosion within the intricate love...hexagon?

At least, you think it’s a hexagon.

The only thing that differed his situation from Jae’s(and made it more heart wrenching, in your opinion) was that Wonpil knew full well that Sungjin did not feel the same way — at least not right now he didn’t.

For the first time in a while you saw his usually bright demeanour dim as he spoke about having had his hopes up for such a long time before he realised that he had no chance with his best friend and he knew it but he couldn’t just turn off his feelings for Sungjin, no matter how much he wanted to.

“It’s okay, Wonpil...” you soothed, your voice soft as you spoke, “Sometimes it’s just not meant to be but that’s okay — you’re still young, you have plenty of time to heal and to fall in love, don’t be so down...”

“Yeah...it just...sucks, you know?”

“I know, I’ve had my fair share of unrequited crushes but I promise to you that you’ll heal and in time, you’ll find someone.”

The only thing that alleviated your mood from the conversation was the fact that Wonpil mentioned that Young K had actually asked him to help out at the shelter together.

The bassist was quick, you’d give him that.

“Really? That’s good, you’re always mentioning how you want to adopt a pet,” you hummed, offering him a smile. “You should go, it’ll be good for you to clear your head a bit, you know? Just take it easy for a while and who knows? Maybe he could help you find an animal to adopt.”

At the mention of the possibility of getting a pet, he instantaneously brightened up and grinned over to you before he spoke, “I think I’ll take him up on it! It’ll be fun being surrounded by animals all day and I...actually like spending time with him.”

“I think he’s quite fond of you, Younghyun doesn’t invite many people to help him out at the shelter because everyone’s too afraid to try and befriend him...he’s a nice kid, people just don’t give him a chance,” you smiled a little sadly as you thought about how lonely Young K was.

Wonpil blushed at your words but didn’t seem put off in the slightest because he seemed to smile shyly as he said, “Well, I’m glad I gave him a chance.”

Before either of you said another word, the bell rang and signalled that lunch was over and students should make their way to their classes.

“Here, I’ll write you a note that excuses you if you end up late,” you hummed, whipping out a piece of paper and a pen to write up a note. “Have fun this weekend, tell me if you end up adopting something!”

“Thank you, and I will!” he grinned, taking the note you handed over with two hands before he rushed out into the quickly filling hallway in order to get to his next class.

vi. the unrequited crush nope. nopenopenope. nOPE.

vi. the love doctor goes on an indefinite hiatus

You were steadily getting to your wit’s end.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how much advice you could give to your students suffering from crushes.

You treasured your lovesick students, you really, really did.

However, you were officially at your limit with how many secrets they had unknowingly piled onto you, you were basically up to your eyeballs in crush confessions and it was beginning to engulf you like quicksand.

Thank God it was Friday.

But, of course, the love hexagon couldn’t be complete without it’s sixth member.

You were a fool to think that said member wouldn’t stop by because half of lunch had already passed without head nor tail of him. You had actually thought that your role as love doctor had officially ended.

Oh, but you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

It was proved so when your atmosphere of peace was shattered when you heard a knock on your door and saw a head of dark hair peek inside.

Park Sungjin.

The door opened up and none other than Sungjin stood walked into the classroom, greeted you and said, “I, um, kind of need your advice.”

You were kind of getting tired of that line because you knew exactly what would come next.

“I think I know where this is going...” the words quietly slipped out of your mouth before you could control yourself.

“...What?”

Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Oh, nothing,” you dismissed casually, feeling something in your mind snap and before you knew it words began to roll off your tongue, “Actually, I don’t think I can do a guidance talk today, Sungjin...there’s a...teacher’s meeting that I really can’t miss.” It seemed as if you were on autopilot as you moved to gather your things. “Is it okay if we do this on another day?”

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of come so late during lunch,” he spoke, moving to help you get your things.

“No, no, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known!” Because there’s no actual meeting, you don’t even know what you’re doing right now. “Thank you for understanding, Sungjin!”

The fact you were getting away with this astounded you, you had to admit but you were too busy in revelling in the fact you could rest your mind for a whole weekend instead of giving yourself a migraine from giving relationship advice.

You almost cried in relief when you found sanctuary in the staff room, sitting yourself down in one of the comfy chairs whilst other teachers looked over to you curiously.

“Guidance talks, huh?” you heard the drama teacher question with a chuckle.

“Yup.” Your short response prompted a understanding ‘ahh’ among the teachers and a few amused chuckles. “I officially quit my position as love doctor to those kids. I love ‘em, but oh my God. Why can't they just send notes in class that are like 'Do you like me tick yes or no'? It'd be a lot easier, honestly.”

#OH MY GOODNESS I'VE FINALLY FINISHED IT #day6writersnet #day6 one shot #day6 writings #my writings #What Can I Do!AU #park jaehyung one shot #young k one shot #brian kang one shot #kang younghyun one shot #park sungjin one shot #kim wonpil one shot #yoon dowoon one shot

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haledamage · 7 years

Text

Cafe Nua

(AO3)

for @pillarspromptsweekly 0007, a bit of modern au PoE

"Hey, Kana?" Aloth kept his voice down even though they were the only ones left in the library.

"Yes, my friend?" Kana made no attempt to be quiet. He didn't look up from his notes.

Aloth closed the book in front of him, not bothering to pretend he was still studying. "You're usually pretty good with people, right? With talking to them, I mean."

"I suppose. I enjoy being around people, at least. I find that helps." He closed his book, too, and finally looked up at Aloth. "Is something bothering you?"

Aloth tugged at his sleeve. "No, nothing. I… there's a new person at my support group, and she seems nice, but I have no idea how to start a conversation with a stranger."

"She seems nice, or nice?" Kana asked, grinning widely.

Aloth blushed and kept his eyes on his textbook, picking at a frayed corner of the binding. "A little of both, maybe."

Kana laughed. "You could start by saying 'hi' and see where that gets you. Or maybe Iselmyr has some advice?"

Aloth scowled. "I'd rather not repeat what Iselmyr suggested."

"Oh come now, she can't be wrong all the time!"

"You'd be surprised."

Whatever else Kana had intended to say was cut off as his phone beeped merrily. "Ah, that's my cue. I promised Maia I'd be home for dinner tonight. She's trying some new recipe and wants me to taste test. You're welcome to come too." Kana packed his things away haphazardly in his bag.

Aloth put his books away more slowly, stacking everything meticulously. "Tempting, but I'll pass. Your family can be… very intimidating."

"Yes, I suppose they can." Kana waited patiently for Aloth to finish packing up. "I told my boss I'd come in to the cafe early tomorrow to help with prep. Why don't you stop by after your classes? You can meet my boss, practice talking to a girl in a controlled environment." Aloth scowled more and Kana laughed again. "There's free coffee in it for you, too!"

"Maybe you should have led with that," Aloth muttered, then added "I'll try, if my schedule permits. What did you say the place is called?"

"Cafe Nua. It's on the east side of town, I'll text you the address." Kana picked up his bag and fell into step with Aloth as they left the building.

-------

The bell over the front door rang and Kai knew who it was without stepping into the front room to check. "Good morning, Kana!"

"Good morning!" His voice carried easily into the kitchen and its owner followed shortly after it. "What're you making? It smells delicious!"

"I thought it'd be fun to use some of that Rauatan dark chocolate to make brownies, since the cookies have been so popular. And this," she said as she leaned all her weight on the ball of dough in front of her on the table," is going to be cinnamon rolls whether it likes it or not."

"You need me to remind it who's boss?" He held his fists up in an attempt to threaten the poor dough ball. 'Threatening' was the last word Kai would use to describe Kana, even though he towered over her.

She laughed. "No need, my dear. If it keeps giving me trouble I'm sure Concelhaut's Crushing Doom will convince it to cooperate. Can you please bring in the flour and coffee beans that were delivered this morning? The bags are almost as big as I am."

Kana went out the back door and came back with two huge bags of coffee slung over one shoulder. "You don't know any spells that make you super strong? And you call yourself a wizard!"

"Not all of us can just sing a song and conjure an extra pair of hands out of thin air."

Kana ended up doing just that and summoning a drake. He loaded the delivered ingredients on its back and took them to the pantry in one quick trip. He thanked it for its help and it snorted and disappeared.

"So I finally went to that Awakening support group you suggested," Kai said after she finally got the cinnamon rolls in the oven.

"Good!" Kana looked up from slicing strawberries and grinned at her. "How was it?"

"Awkward. I never know what to say in a situation like that. Maybe I should have brought you or Edér with me." She considered briefly her roommate and his habit of diffusing awkward situations with bad humor and shook her head. "Hmm, maybe not Edér. Everyone was really nice, though."

"I'm glad! I know you haven't been in the Dyrwood long. I hope this'll help you meet more people." Kana picked up the strawberries and folded them into a nearby bowl of whipped cream.

A timer beeped and Kai turned it off, then pulled a shortcake out of one of the ovens. She turned it out onto a plate, set it in the freezer to cool, then returned to Kana and said "I have you and Edér. I don't have time for new friends."

"There's always time for new friends."

-------

After the breakfast rush, it got pretty quiet at Cafe Nua until what Kai called the post-lunch dessert rush. The quiet period was also when her regulars were most likely to come in.

On some days, Pallegina would come in for a latte with extra sugar and ask Kai to listen while she ranted angrily about her bosses or her clients or whatever other things bothered her that day. Other days, Grieving Mother would arrive right before the next rush to have a pot of tea and sit at a corner table to kith watch. Once a week, Hiravias came in with a vase of flowers to brighten the place up and a sample of whatever herb was thriving in his hot house that week. He'd sit around and chat while Kai tried new recipes with the herbs he brought and then take the leftovers home with him.

Sometimes, Sagani and Itumaak would claim a table and spread out the papers of whatever case she's working on, hoping a new location would give her new perspective. Occasionally, Kai would offer to help, but Sagani very rarely wanted a Watcher's assistance, not since Kai helped her find Persoc--"you keep butting your nose into police business, we'll have to start paying you," she would say, but never cruelly-- so Kai just made sure her coffee stayed full and snuck treats to Itumaak.

None of them came in today, though, and except for a couple students from the local college taking advantage of Cafe Nua's "Bring a Cup I'll Fill It Up" special, it was pretty empty. Kai told Kana to go on break so he could study for whatever assignment or project he was working on. She wasn't one hundred percent sure how homework worked in literature degrees, so she assumed he had to read something.

Then she turned the music up and got to work cleaning.

She was standing on a chair with a feather duster, attempting to clean off the top of the curtains, when she heard the door chime. "Be right with you, darling!" she called over her shoulder. Her new customer didn't answer, but after a moment she felt the presence of someone standing next to her. She kept talking, leaning up on tip-toes to reach the top sill of the window. "You'd think with all the years I spent in school, I'd have some practical knowledge to show for it. I don't suppose you know any spells that remove cobwebs, do you, dear?"

"I know a few spells to add webs," said the man next to Kai, and she startled and almost lost her balance with the realization that she knew his voice, "but none to remove them, I'm afraid."

Kai climbed down off her chair and turned to her guest. She'd met him a few nights prior at the Awakening support meeting; he had been very quiet, with occasional snide aside remarks that she's fairly certain she wasn't supposed to hear. He was very handsome and meticulously groomed and Kai was acutely aware of the dust in her hair and the flour on her apron.

Still, intimidated as she was it was no reason to be rude, so she smiled and said, "Hi! It's good to see you again. Aloth, right?" He nodded and she smiled wider. "I'm Kai. But you… already know that." She offered a hand to shake, then hesitated, realizing how dirty her hands must be; before she could pull away, he reached out and shook her hand firmly. She blushed and resisted the urge to fix her hair. "Welcome to Cafe Nua."

"Is this your bakery?" Aloth looked around at the mismatched wooden tables and the colorful lanterns and art on the walls. "It's charming." His eyes widened and he turned back to her. "I don't mean that in the Aedyran veiled-insult way. I mean it as a compliment. Truly."

Kai laughed. "Thank you. The previous owner left her a mess, I've spent a lot of time getting her up to 'charming.' Would you… would you like some coffee? Or tea?"

"I… yes. Coffee would be lovely."

Kai led the way back to the counter, but once she got there she stopped and studied Aloth for a moment. He really was a lovely specimen, long silky hair and pale eyes and high cheekbones and a rare but potent smile. Aedyre, which meant he probably liked sweets, and she remembered hearing he was a student, so he'd want something strong. Hmm…

He fidgeted under her stare, face reddening. "Is there something the matter?"

Kai shook herself. "No. No, I'm sorry. I like to study people and see if I can guess what they want. I always tell them it's a Watcher thing, but it's really just a Me thing."

He smirked, plucking at a button on the sleeve of his jacket, and said "And what do I want?"

Oh no. Kai bit back several things she could have said to that and instead turned to her beloved espresso machine. After thinking about it a moment longer, she decided on a latte with half the milk, an extra shot of espresso, and a dash of vanilla syrup. She then grabbed one of the darkest Rauatai brownies and presented it and the coffee to her new friend.

She tried not to fidget as she watched Aloth try the drink. He had a frustratingly good poker face, and the longer he was quiet the more obvious it was that he was toying with her. Kai wanted so badly to ask what he thought, but she bit her lip against the urge. She watched him and he watched her as he finished the brownie and half his coffee in silence before finally smiling and saying "You have a gift, Kai."

Kai grinned, ridiculously proud of herself. "Thank you. I… if anyone had told me when I was in university that I'd end up running a coffee shop, I'd have laughed them out of Aedyr, but now that I'm here…"

Aloth chuckled. "I know what you mean. Circumstances can find you in the strangest of places." He took another long drink of his latte. Kai could see on his face that he had a lot of questions, but the one he finally asked wasn't what she expected. "What did you study? You mentioned college."

Kai couldn't fully curb the excitement in her voice as she said "History and linguistics, with special interest in dead languages. Well, and the wizardry. I'd been planning to get a degree in anthropology as well, but I Awakened in my second year and things got… complicated." That felt like a gross understatement, but she knew he'd understand. "What about you?"

"What makes you think I went to college?" Aloth asked, but he was smiling.

"There's a peculiar kind of sleeplessness that can only be found in Watchers and postgraduate students, and I know you're not a Watcher."

He laughed aloud then, dropping his guard for a moment, and Kai found herself blushing again for some reason. His eyes were still lit with humor when he finally answered, "History as well, and I'm postgrad in literature. And 'the wizardry'."

"Literature? Do you know Kana Rua?" Kai had a feeling she already knew the answer.

Aloth nodded. "He's the one who told me about this place."

"He's the one who told me about the support group," Kai said. She pointed vaguely over her shoulder and added, "He's in the back right now studying. I actually need to pop back there for a moment, so I'll send him out."

Kai stepped into the back room and as soon as Aloth was out of sight she stomped to the office where Kana sat with his books and hissed, "Why didn't you tell me you had a friend coming to visit?"

"Oh, is Aloth here?" Kana said, in the smuggest voice possible.

"Yes, Aloth is here, and I didn't know he was here to see you, so I've been flirting with him like an idiot." She was horribly embarrassed. She should have been more suspicious. Handsome, charming, intelligent, and she wouldn't have to worry about her condition scaring him off? She should have figured he wasn't there to see her. Even if it did seem like he was flirting back.

Kai was so far into her pity spiral it took her a second to get back on subject when Kana said, "Good. I've been trying to get the two of you to meet for months now. You have a lot in common, Kai."

"I--what--" Kai took a deep breath and restarted. "I am not one of your sisters, Kana. I don't need you playing matchmaker."

"Clearly you do, or I wouldn't be."

She wagged an ineffectual finger at him and he laughed. "I ought to tell Maia. I ought to tell Lena."

"You wouldn't." He put his hand over his heart, feigning horror.

Kai couldn't stop from smiling. She shoved him toward the front room. "Go talk to your friend. I'm going to get the next tray of cream puffs out of the walk-in before the next rush."

-------

After taking a few minutes in the cold of the walk-in freezer to calm her nerves and another minute to shake the cobwebs from her hair, Kai stepped back out front with a tray of assorted snacks to restock. Kana and Aloth sat at one of the tables chatting, fresh cups of coffee in front of them.

"She makes almost everything herself," Kana was saying, "even the flavored syrups for the coffees! How is it you phrased it, Kai?"

Well, at least he was making her look good. Out loud, she said, "I do everything except the farming. Only the best for my girl." She pat the counter affectionately and started restocking the display case.

"Why is Cafe Nua a 'she'?" asked Aloth. He seemed to be relaxing a little now. His fine navy wool jacket was off, draped neatly across the back of his chair, and his crisp black button-up was well-tailored, sleeves rolled up his forearms and long-fingered hands wrapped around his coffee mug. It was a very good look.

Kai almost forgot to answer his question. "That would be because of Steward."

Kai touched the shoulder of a carved stone statue that stood next to the espresso machine. The statue was of a woman about Kai's height but of much fuller figure, draped in a flowing dress. Her head was adorned with an antlered circlet, and her hands were poised as if she were dancing. She had a crown of autumn flowers on her head, courtesy of Kai. "Steward is the soul of Cafe Nua. She built this place and had her consciousness transferred to the statue a long time ago. She keeps quiet mostly so she doesn't scare people away."

"Makes it easier to eavesdrop as well," Steward said slyly. Even with the warning, Aloth jumped a little when the statue started talking.

A group of orlans in business suits came through the door in a flurry of sound and motion and Kai put on her best smile. They talked over each other to place their orders and left with four mochas, the last of the brownies, and half of the cream puffs Kai had just put out.

As they left, Kana and Aloth approached the counter. Kana took Aloth's empty mug and went to the back room to clock back in before the crowds arrived. Aloth smiled at Kai and said, "I'll go and let you work. What do I owe you for the coffee?"

Kai waved a hand. "It's on the house, darling." She hadn't expected him to look so uncomfortable with that idea. Before she could think better of it, she added "Buy me a drink sometime and we'll call it even."

Aloth blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, pausing in the act of putting his jacket on to stare at Kai in… horror? Intrigue? She couldn't tell. He schooled his expression again to a sort of bland interest that she was starting to recognize as his preferred default expression, and he said "How about dinner instead? Folcsdag night?"

Of all the things Kai expected him to say, that wasn't one of them. She suddenly felt shy, a sensation she hadn't experienced much before today, but finally said, "Yes. That sounds lovely. We close at 18:00."

"Then I'll pick you up here, 18:30?"

Kai nodded, and they both fell quiet. Aloth tugged at a button on his sleeve again, Kai toyed with the cord of the necklace she wore, and they stared at each other. It was terribly awkward, but not in an altogether unpleasant way.

Aloth moved abruptly as if shaking himself from sleep and his face reddened again. "Yes. Right. I should get going then. I'll see you on Folcsdag. Have a good day. Bye, Kana."

"Bye!" Kana said from right behind Kai, who just barely managed to not jump. Aloth waved and left.

As soon as he was out of sight, Kai leaned over and pressed her face into the cool wood of the counter. "Usher take me, what was I thinking? If this goes poorly, it's your fault," she said and pointed in Kana's vague direction.

Kana laughed and pat her on the shoulder. "You're such a pessimist, my friend! What if it goes great?"

What if it goes great? First time for everything, Kai thought. Then the crowds showed up and she didn't have time to think for a while.

-------

"If this goes poorly, it's your fault," Aloth told Kana the next day before class.

Kana laughed, heedless of the other students who looked their way. "I think you'll be fine. Just be yourself."

Easy for Kana to say. Aloth had spent more than half his life trying to be someone other than himself.

She looks lik a lass that likes bonny hings, Iselmyr's voice slithered through his mind, mibbie git her some flowers.

Isn't that a little… cliche? Aloth replied, biting his lip to make sure he didn't voice it aloud.

It was a peculiar sensation to have the voice in his head roll her eyes, but one Aloth was all too familiar with. She's a nerd, ye'r a nerd, ye'll fin' a wey tae mak' it nerdy.

He thought about it all through class, barely even aware of the professor's lecture. When it was over Aloth decided that maybe, just this once, Iselmyr had a good idea, and he made his way to Autumn Druid Floral.

The interior reminded Aloth of the jungles of the Cythwood. Every manner and color of flower covered the walls and most of the floor. Some of it was cut in vases, but some grew in pots and others still seemed to be planted right in the floor, and flowering vines climbed up a central pillar.

Someone's peepin' us, Iselmyr warned, and once she pointed it out, he noticed the prickly feeling of eyes on the back of his head.

Or eye, it turned out, as Aloth turned around and came face to face with the shop's owner, a short orlan with a shock of orange hair who seemed to be missing most of the right side of his face. "Hello," he said, after it was obvious the orlan expected him to talk first, "I would like to buy some flowers."

The orlan barked a laugh. "I hope so. Otherwise you're in the wrong place." He scratched at the stump of his missing ear and studied Aloth the same way one might study an intriguing insect. "First date?"

"I beg your pardon?" Aloth wasn't sure why he was so intimidated by a man almost half his height, but there was an intensity to him that he hadn't expected from a florist.

"The reason you're buying flowers. First date?" He spoke slowly, as if he wasn't sure Aloth was fluent in Aedyran.

"Oh. Yes."

He walked off then, headed into the carefully cultivated wilderness. "I'm Hiravias, by the by."

"Aloth," said Aloth, following uncomfortably behind Hiravias.

Hiravias nodded as if Aloth had just told him the secrets of the universe. "Bookish girl, right? Red hair, freckles? Maybe owns a coffee shop?"

"Either you know her or you're in the wrong line of work," Aloth said drolly.

Hiravias laughed sharply. Aloth had never met anyone who could make a laugh sound both friendly and angry before. "Cafe Nua's one of my regular stops. Kiki's good people. And Kana Rua loves to gossip. I figured it was only a matter of time before you ended up in my neck of the woods. Here." He lifted a vase filled with a riot of colorful flowers.

"Why this one?" Aloth stared at the arrangement, but couldn't recognize any of the flowers involved.

Hiravias pointed at each flower in turn as he said, "Amethyst for admiration, coreopsis arkansa for love at first sight, pink rose for friendship, primrose for young love, jasmine just because she likes them."

"I wasn't aware flowers could be quite so… nuanced," Aloth said. It's not the word he was looking for, but it would serve well enough.

Hiravias's eye lit up. "Glanfathans have a whole language built around them. Used to use 'em to send coded messages, but now it's mostly just for fun. You got a minute? Bet I could teach you a thing or two."

The sun had set by the time Aloth left with a completely different bouquet in tow.

-------

Kai had run out of ways to keep busy and it was still only 18:20. The cafe was more spotless than it had ever been, the books were balanced, prep work for tomorrow was finished. She was wearing something weather appropriate that would fit in anywhere except black tie and her hair was… not neat, that would be too much to ask, but it was manageable and didn't have any flour or cobwebs in it.

She had chased Kana out ten minutes ago, making it very clear what she thought of his offer to chaperone. Now she was trying to ignore the buzzing of her phone as Edér sent her pictures of every animal currently living with them with captions like "Cosmo hopes you have fun <3" and "Lady says we won't wait up for you ;)". She'd go through them when she was less nervous and find it endearing, but at the moment it just made her more anxious.

When Aloth finally walked in at 18:30 on the dot, Kai hoped her relief didn't show on her face. She leaned against the counter, trying to look like she hadn't been counting the seconds until he arrived. She waved and said, "Hi. Um, good evening." Smooth, Kiki. Real smooth.

"Good evening. These are for you," he said and held a beautiful bouquet of flowers out to her. She recognized a couple, but the rest were unfamiliar breeds, purple and yellow and pink and white together in a cheerful mix.

She took it and turned to find a vase as an excuse to hide the reddening of her cheeks. "Thank you. They're lovely." She noticed the staelgar paw print on the ribbon binding the arrangement together. "Did Hiravias give you his 'language of flowers' lecture?"

Aloth chuckled and some of the tension drained from his shoulders. "Yes, he mentioned you were acquainted."

"That would explain the jasmine then," Kai said as she found a vase and filled it with water and a spoonful of sugar. "What do the rest of them mean?"

"You're a linguist, aren't you?" Aloth asked slyly. "You tell me."

Kai snapped her mouth shut audibly on whatever reply she had. What an intriguing man. Just when Kai thought she had him figured out, he threw her off-balance again. Two could play at that game. "Are you sending me secret messages, darling?" She said with a grin. "How forward of you."

"Too forward?"

"No," Kai said, then quickly changed the subject. "Shall we go then?"

They stopped to grab a bite to eat from a food truck that claimed to serve authentic Aedyran cuisine. It was good, but they agreed there was something distinctly Dyrwoodan in its seasoning. Aloth then took Kai on a walk through the park and along the canals of Copperlane. It was mid-autumn and pleasantly cool outside, warm enough still that Kai's sweater was enough to keep out the chill, but cold enough that if she walked a little closer to Aloth than necessary she could blame it on the weather.

They talked about nothing in particular, about his classes and job at the library, about the cafe and her roommate, about Kana and Iselmyr and being a Watcher. They had very different taste in music, but similar taste in books, and had both come to the Dyrwood in recent months through surprisingly parallel paths.

It was a new sensation for Kai to be on a date without feeling pressured or like she was being interrogated, and she felt acutely aware of herself and the space she filled in the world and how that space related to his. Every time they walked too close and their fingers or shoulders brushed it made her skin tingle.

It was late when they arrived at her townhouse on the east side of Heritage Hill, later than either of them should have stayed out. They stood at her doorstep a couple feet apart, charged silence stretching between them, until Kai blurted out "Would you like to come up for coffee?"

As soon as the words were out, Kai's brain caught up and reminded her all the implications behind such a simple phrase. She also realized she wasn't averse if Aloth chose to take it that way. That was new, too.

Aloth just smiled, though, and said, "Not tonight. I'm already likely to need a nap at work tomorrow, coffee certainly wouldn't help matters. Maybe next time." The emphasis on 'coffee' made her think maybe he wasn't averse either. Interesting.

"Hmm, you're probably right, I should be at the bakery in--" Kai checked her phone and cringed. Sixteen messages from Edér, two from Kana, and a clock cheerfully displaying a much smaller number than she had expected, "--four hours."

"I suppose we lost track of time a little," Aloth said, fidgeting with that button on his jacket again. Kai wondered briefly how often he had to reattach the poor thing before he added, "I'd like to see you again."

"We have open mic night on Godandag," she answered almost immediately. "It's mostly just an excuse for Kana to bring his guitar to work, but it's a lot of fun." Was two days too soon? Kai had never had a second date before.

"Then I'll see you then."

They exchanged phone numbers and, after another moment of hesitation, Kai pressed a quick peck to his cheek and went inside the house before he could see how red her face was.

In the living room, Kai found Kana and Edér asleep on the couch covered in an assortment of animals. Kai snapped a quick picture and texted it to Aloth with the caption "Eora's Okayest Chaperones" then headed to bed to get a couple hours sleep while she could.

-------

Kai had never considered her Watcher-induced sleeplessness a blessing before, but at least she already knew how to function on only two hours sleep. She was up, bathed, dressed, and out the door before the sun was fully in the sky.

Since she would be working alone that day, she set out the bed for her service dog, a big black hound named Lady, who laid down with a huff and dozed a little while Kai filled the ovens with today's pastries.

The first thing she noticed when she walked into the front room was the vase of flowers from the night before. She smiled, thinking back on last night. The giddy, fluttery feeling still hadn't faded; Kai wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

After she finished stocking the display case, she took a few close-up shots of the different flowers and decided to see what she could find about them online. The search took most of the day, hunting in between customers, but she finally had a list she was fairly certain of scrawled messily on a spare piece of paper:

Jasmine - you are cheerful and graceful Lavender rose - enchantment Clematis - mental beauty Meadow lychnis - wit Mimosa – bashful

Kai wasn't completely sure on the last one, but couldn't find any others that matched. Before she could talk herself out of it, she snapped a picture of the list and sent it to Aloth, then followed with "this is the most complicated way i've had anyone compliment my wit and intelligence and tbh i've never been more flattered".

He replied back almost immediately with "Well, it's early yet. I'm sure I'll find other ways to flatter you in the future."

Kai couldn't keep the smile off her face the rest of the day.

-------

When the next evening rolled around, Aloth arrived with Kana right before the crowds, carrying one of Kana's guitars in one hand and a potted flower in the other. Kai grinned as he handed it to her and she said, "So is this a tradition now?"

"Probably not," he chuckled, "I feel that would give Hiravias entirely too much knowledge about our affairs."

Aloth helped Kana and Edér set up the little corner stage while Kai rapidly filled coffee and snack orders for the people that came to see Kana sing. The turnout was a little bigger every month; before long he'd be too popular for her little cafe. She encouraged him to record videos and put them online, but he was a purist. He said music was best when enjoyed live. Kai considered, not for the first time, recording it for him.

During a brief break in the crowd, Kai took a moment to study the new flower and was happy to see that she recognized it. She got as far as typing it into the search engine before getting busy again.

Once the music started, Kai put up her 'Back in a minute!' sign on the counter by the register and stepped away to watch her friend sing. She checked her phone first, curiosity still gnawing at her, and froze as the search results stared back at her: "purple pansy - you occupy my thoughts."

Oh, by Wael's hundred visions, but that made her heart do a funny flip in her chest. Maybe it was the way it was phrased, but the simple fact that Aloth had been thinking about her enough that he felt the need to buy her flowers declaring such made Kai feel like the room was too warm.

"Something on your mind?" said a voice far too close to her ear. Kai yelped and turned to see Aloth looming over her, barely contained laughter dancing in his eyes.

She met those mirthful eyes like a challenge and told him the truth. "You," she said. His face turned bright red, and she added, "You're setting a really high precedent for future dates, darling. No one can possibly be this charming all the time."

Aloth smiled in a way that made Kai feel warm all the way down to her toes and said, "I suppose you'll have to stay and find out."

"I suppose I will," Kai said, and then to stop herself from saying anything else, she grabbed Aloth's hand and pulled him toward the crowd.

#pillars prompts weekly #pillars of eternity #fic #aloth corfiser #kai cirdani #kailoth #modern au #rhi writes #I had to trim a lot out of this that had absolutely nothing to do with the prompt #so you may see that sometime in the future #I could write a whole novel in this setting tbh #it's so great

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