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howisyournight · 3 years

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errands for you

inspired by khai dreams’ good advice !

the second years had always been fond of the bread that was selling near the school campus. usually, they would see each other going together to buy some but once missions got harder, they would get inumaki to run errands to buy bread. it happened once, twice but inumaki seemed to grow fond of the girl behind the counter who insisted she taught him sign language, so he found himself doing it voluntarily with a small smile hidden behind his collar.

maki heaved a deep sigh, leaning on panda as they finished another session of training. the sun was dimly shining, which they were heavily thankful for. panda was lying on the grass, yuuta was sitting on the staircase and inumaki was sitting beside panda with the usual stoic expression on his face. maki clicked her tongue before wiping the sweat forming on her forehead.

“anyone up to grab some refreshments?”

the four first years glanced at each other before hurriedly pointing at each other. to his misfortune, inumaki hesitated, leaving him the one to sigh and stand up. he stretched before handing his phone to maki. the girl typed the food she wanted before passing it to yuuta, who did the same. eventually, the phone circled back to inumaki. his eyes scanned the screen before heading off with his hands in his pocket.

the boy sighed, staring at the small bakery from a few feet before approaching it. the door opened with a chime, alerting the people working behind the counter.

“welcome!”

inumaki approached the counter, phone in hand. he stopped when the lady behind the counter recognized him, rather his uniform.

“oh! a sorcerer!” the women wiped her hand on her apron before leaning behind, calling out to another worker. a small voice responded from the kitchen followed by a girl fixing her apron.

“serve this one, it should be easy enough.” the woman assigned and the girl merely nodded before facing inumaki with a smile.

“what can i get you today?”

to say you were excited was a complete understatement. not only were you working in a bakery but you were working near the same campus your parents met. it was an astounding thing to even think about. it gave you something to be happy about. since their passing, it seemed difficult to spend every minute stuck at home. it wasn’t before the brink of you and your sister’s empty fridge that had you standing up and going. with no one to look after you both, you were left with the task to be the adult. a year behind legality, you were glad some strings were pulled so you could start working in a small bakery near the tokyo metropolitan school or rather the jujutsu tech.

you remembered your mother telling you stories of their missions, dangerous ones that they joked about. unfortunately, you weren’t given the chance to have a technique which left you with eyes that often saw monstrous creatures. though you could easily take classes to grow stronger, applying to be a sorcerer increased the chances of you leaving your little sister.

so now here you were, behind the counter of a small bakery near the jujutsu school. the ladies you were working with were surprisingly kind and welcoming. the atmosphere was ideal and overall, everything was perfect.

“what can i get you today?” your head tilted and your eyes closed with a smile. before you could comprehend anything, a phone was shoved in front of you. on it was multiple bread and drinks that were present on the menu board. you stared at the boy in front of you before gaping in realization.

inumaki watched you raise your hand, signing. he merely blinked at the sign, not understanding what any of what you said meant. you paused, your hand still raised.

“sign language?” you worded out at the same time signing. inumaki shook his head. you sputtered before apologising meekly, a bashful smile on your face. you took the phone from him and started to write the order down.

“right. i’ll be back.” you muttered before collecting the written bread on the pad of paper you were holding. you hummed before placing a tray in front of the boy. ducking, you grabbed a paper bag from below the counter. inumaki stood idle, watching you place the bread inside the paper bag with care. he couldn’t put a finger on what he was feeling but his eyes could not leave your figure. it was as if he was put on some kind on trance. maybe it was the lighting inside the shop that made you glow. no, inumaki felt like even if you were standing with no proper lighting he’d still see an angelic glow surrounding you.

“-ello?”

your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his cheeks slightly heating up in embarrassment.

“here’s your bread.” you signed despite already knowing the boy in front of you indicated he didn’t know how.

he was interesting, you could at least say. maybe it was the way his lower half was mysteriously covered by cloth or maybe it was his eyes that seemed like it was staring into your soul. either way, you were silently hoping he would return.

maybe you were getting lucky because the off-white haired boy sauntered his way into the shop the next day and for the following week. before you knew it, you were offering him free lessons of sign language. he’d handed you his phone with the question ‘how do you know sign language’ with his head tilted cutely the other day. to which you responded,

“my sister’s mute.” you signed with a small smile, making the boy’s eyes widen slightly. so you were familiar with his case except he had the ability to speak just not without the expense of getting others included. which by the way, you had no idea about. you had just assumed he was mute as well. it wasn’t before you heard him slip a random word.

“takana?” you heard as you sat on a table near the window. how the time seemed to slow down as you stared at him in mere shock.

“y-you can talk!” you exclaimed, hands gripping the table and practically leaning over closer to the boy. inumaki stared before glancing away, a hand tugging at the collar hiding his face nervously. lucky for him, your expressions seemed to be positive. the way your eyes lit up when he opened his mouth relieved him.

“takana?” you asked in wonder, sitting back down placing a hand under your chin. it seemed like eternity as inumaki waited for you to look up and started chatting again. he jolted slightly when you frantically looked up.

“inumaki!” you snapped your fingers, remembering a story your mother had told you. “snake and fangs!” inumaki froze at the words. for all that he expected, he did not expect those exact words to fly out of your mouth. you knew about curses? sorcerers? it seemed as if his eyes asked all the questions when you clasped your hand together, sighing with a hint of sadness.

“my parents were sorcerers.” you claimed, staring at outside the window. inumaki could see pain glazing over your eyes. “they used to tell me about their missions.” you chuckled softly.

“the inumaki clan was a small story i can vaguely remember but i know the technique. my mother was very interested in different jujutsu techniques.” you continued as inumaki listened, following your gaze outside the window. the sun was setting, painting an ethereal blanket of orange glow in the sky - a perfect afternoon to spend relaxing and talking.

inumaki dug his brain for the past few weeks, trying to remember certain sign language you had subconsciously done. you stared at the boy as he hesitated to raise his right hand. your eyes widened when he signed an apology. your mouth fell open in disbelief and awe. he had been picking up a few of your sign language and he actually used one! you let out a giddy laugh.

“it’s okay.” you signed back with a bright grin. the corners of his eyes slightly curved, indicating he was smiling back. you leaned forward with a smile, continuing the conversation despite it being slightly one sided. you had no care that he was using limited responses. when he would try to sign a phrase he’d caught from you, you would lean in and guide his hand. eventually, for the whole month, inumaki had been voluntarily buying refreshments for his fellow classmates without knowledge he had been making friends. maki had grown suspicious one time when he had hurriedly insisted that he can buy. though, to his relief, she brushed it off.

this cycle continued for almost a year and a half. you were proud inumaki had gotten to use sign language with you without needing any help. it was practically second nature to him now. you two had never run out of things to enjoy. your friendship eventually led to you inviting him to movies, arcades and other places you had fun in. at one point, inumaki had met your little sister who was surprisingly clingy to him.

you noticed, however, whenever he stayed over at your apartment, you would often find yourself staring at his relaxed figure or the way he messed with his hair. you found yourself noticing details that a friend wouldn’t. you stopped mid walk once, your eyes widening in realization. the heat creeping up your cheeks whenever he would ask how you were doing or if you had a good day were things you normally brushed off but those little things seemed to fluster you more than usual.

you were falling for him.

it was a dangerous thing to be feeling. after all, he was a sorcerer. you were reminded of your parents’ tragedy when you thought about jujutsu. with pale features, you try to reassure inumaki that you were fine.

it wasn’t before a walk back to your apartment when inumaki suddenly stopped. you followed and looked at him in worry. his eyes were downcast as if contemplating something. everything blurred when he signed a phrase.

i like you.

your brain felt like short-circuiting. your face was heating up. you hadn’t taught him that phrase. you were at loss for words. his eyes were darting nervously back to you, his hands subconsciously tugging on his collar. he stumbled when he was met with arms engulfing him in a hug. you had tackled him when your brain had processed.

“i like you too!”

it was that sweet laugh that followed after that made inumaki’s heart melt. you could barely see his face but the soft pink dusting his cheeks showed his happiness. it took him a few seconds to process your response but when he did, he found his arms hugging you back and his lips planting a small kiss on your head.

help i love him

#jjk x reader #inumaki to/ge #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #fluff #jujustu kaisen fluff #inumaki x reader #help #i love him #jjk anime #jjk imagine #jjk inumaki #jujutsu sorcerer #jujustu kaisen

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bookstantrash · 3 years

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A/N: Just saw that I hit 200 followers! I didn’t expect that even in my wildest dreams, so thank you so much for those of you who follow me, like/retweet my posts!! 🥰

Thanks aside, enjoy this chapter! I ended up not making it as angst as I intended it to be, so lucky you!

In which she makes a friend, Part Eight

Cassian’s headache was going to kill him.

The past week had been exhausting. Azriel had left only a day ago, leaving Cassian with more work and more troubled thoughts regarding the advance of the rebels.

At least now he had something to occupy his time during his sleepless nights, preferring to work instead of simply staring at his bedroom’s wall until the first rays of sunrise appeared.

Cassian was also worried about Kaelin. The young Illyrian had dismissed Nesta’s worried look, simply stating that his hair had been bothering him and that a few bruises were common. He had only been unfortunate enough to receive most of the blows on his face.

Both Cassian and Azriel had confirmed Kaelin’s words, but he had caught Nesta whispering with the young Illyrian when they thought nobody was looking, and Cassian was starting to get worried that Kaelin was hiding something.

Nesta also occupied his thoughts. Now more than ever.

Although she had actually sided with Azriel, both messing with him non stop — Azriel’s dark humour having surprisingly matched perfectly with Nesta’s ironic one — Cassian would see how she sometimes appeared to be lost in thought, becoming a little quieter once in a while, no doubt with her mind busy with Kaelin.

Cassian had to discover what was happening. He had to make sure that Nesta’s rare and easy smiles — even the way her stormy blue eyes softened more than less nowadays — would not disappear. She deserved all the happiness in the world. As did Kaelin.

But first, he had to rid himself of the nasty headache that had been bothering him all day.

“Now I know why Azriel rubs his temple so often” Cassian thought as he made his way for the healers tents, rubbing his own temple in a vain attempt to ease the pounding inside his head.

As he walked further into the tent, the smell of different herbs assaulted him, and Cassian took a deep breath, an expecting scent he could not name laying a blanket of calmness over him, easing his pain.

“Somebody give me some salt! An evil spirit has arrived!” Cassian heard a familiar grumpy voice shout.

“I missed you too Esmée” he said, stopping near the table where the matron of the healers appeared to be making a complicate looking potion.

“Bah, missed me! You missed coming here and charming my healers to give you extra bandages to wrap your fists, that’s what happened” Esmée replied, snorting.

“You usually need to wrap your hands or else they’ll get hurt even more. Am I wrong ladies?” Cassian playfully said, winking at one of the healers, who blushed.

“Hurt hands!! As if!” Esmée indignantly exclaimed “You are one vain warrior who does it for the aesthetics in four out of five cases!”

“And stop flirting with my healers! You’re distracting them!” she added, hitting him on the head with the small wooden stick she used to grind the herbs.

Cassian gave a surprised yelp, earning giggles from the healers.

“Great, now I’ll have a pump in the morning along with a headache” he thought, massaging his head.

“Esmée” Cassian charmingly tried, giving the old female his best puppy eyes “Uyara of the healers”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere kunumim” she huffed, but Cassian could see her eyes shining with secret delight.

Uyara meant Lady, owner and even dominant in the Illyrian tong. And Cassian may use flattery, but he was no liar while doing it. Esmée was the best healer the Illyrians had. She knew secrets long lost, passed only from matron to matron of camp. And her abilities were just as legendary. She truly was the Lady of the Healers.

“This time I did not come here to ask for bandages” Cassian said “I was wondering if you had any herbs for headaches. Mine is killing me”

Esmée surprised Cassian by raising her hands and cupping his cheeks, bringing his face down so she could inspect it.

“You have dark shadows under your eyes. Your eyes are tired, and you are a little anaemic” the old healer’s voice got unusually soft, maternal concern lacing it “You work too much. Have you been having trouble sleeping kunumim?”

Cassian felt his chest tighten a bit at Esmée’s words.

It had been a long time since someone had noticed how tired he felt beneath his happy facade. Since someone had cared to stop and really look at him.

Cassian loved his family. But even around them he felt the need to keep up the appearances.

He had to be the funny one. The one always there to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

Cassian sometimes wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and complain.

Wanted someone to hug him and let him slip his mask off.

Wanted someone who loved him enough to hear his troubles.

But Cassian could not afford to be selfish right now.

He had a camp to take care of.

“I’m fine Uyara” smiling weakly, Cassian gently took her hands off his face, squeezing them in reassurance.

Esmée clicked her tong in annoyance, her mean and grumpy attitude back in an instant, as if she was not worried at all about him.

“Lucky for you,” Esmée said, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the tent “we have recently made some painkiller tonics”

Her next words, however, got lost when Cassian smelled that calming scent again.

Closer now, he could clearly smell lavender and vanilla, a familiar scent.

And that’s when he saw her.

Nesta, an apron tied over her dark green dress, her sleeves pushed back — Cassian caught himself staring at her bare forearms and resisting the urge to run his fingertips softly against her milky skin — and brows knotted in concentration while she filled some vials.

“Nesta, grab two of those vials and pack them for this headstrong Commander”

At Esmée’s words, Nesta raised her head and looked in their direction, stormy blue eyes widening slightly when she spotted Cassian beside the healer.

“So this is where she disappears to everyday after lunch”

Nesta quickly recomposed herself, effortlessly filling the small glass flasks and placing them in a little pouch, Cassian not taking his eyes off of her for a single moment.

Esmée huffed in approval, but when Nesta tried to hand it to her, the healer refused it.

“You also need to rest. You think I did not see you dozing off? Or the way you were blinking heavily while mixing the herbs?”

Cassian’s attention peaked at that, and he noticed the shadows underneath Nesta’s eyes. They were faint, fainter than his, but they were still there.

“I’m fine Esmée” Nesta strongly argued, not backing off.

“You’re off duties until you’ve had some sleep and that’s final” the matron replied “What’s the problem with you two and not sleeping? It’s not as if you don’t have a bed”

And before they even knew what had happened, Esmée had ripped the apron from around Nesta’s waist, threw her coat and banned them from the tent.

“If that overexcited pitanga appears I’ll let him know that you already left with the Commander” with this last warning, Esmée left them outside, both a little lost.

Nesta was the first one to recompose herself. She wore her coat and started walking back to the cabin, not waiting to see if Cassian was following her.

Which he obviously was, effortlessly catching up to her given his long strides.

“You seem to be very fond of walking” he tried, casting her a side glance.

“I have no wings” she snorted “How else am I supposed to get anywhere then?

“Is that an invitation to fly with me Ness?” Cassian said, half joking and half expectant of her answer.

He would not lie and say the opportunity to hold her close to him did not tempt him. And he would not lie further by saying he had not been dying to show her how beautiful Illyria could be from above.

“No” she swiftly cut his offer down, staring straight ahead.

“It’ll be fun” he tried again.

“What’s so fun about making someone sick?” Nesta snapped, and Cassian remembered the last time she had flown.

How Rhysand had purposely flew faster than she could possibly stomach, no doubt a petty move from his side.

“I would fly very slowly” he tentatively said “And not even that high”

Cassian only received silence in answer, but he could tell from the way Nesta was pursing her lips that she was tempted to say yes.

“It is faster this way” Cassian added.

“Fine,” Nesta finally answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice “but one smart trick from you and you’ll wake up with burnt eyebrows tomorrow”

“I wouldn’t dare and try to make Your Highness uncomfortable”

They stopped walking, Cassian hesitating to take the first step and embrace Nesta.

The same could not be said about her, however, who boldly got close to him.

“So? Are we going or not?”

“Eager aren’t we sweetheart” Cassian gathered her on his arms, Nesta lacing her own around his shoulders “If I knew you were so desperate to hold me I would have brought this ideia up sooner”

Before she could throw a barbed reply his way, Cassian opened his wings and shot to the sky, feeling Nesta tighten her hold and bury her head on his shoulder.

Siphons flashing, Cassian pulled a shield over them, the air that high up being colder, specially when autumn was nearing its end.

He may or may not have taken the opportunity to discreetly take a better look at Nesta.

At the way the few strands of her hair had escaped her braid, tickling his cheek as they were blew by the wind.

At the way she got braver and raised her head a little, her blue eyes the colour of the cloud free sky and sparkling with wonder.

“It’s beautiful” and Nesta’s voice was so soft, so full of wonder, that Cassian imagined if that was how she had been before the war. When she was human and all she wanted was to keep Elain happy and travel the world.

“It is”

But he was not looking at the view.

Was not looking at how the sun sparkled against the shiny peeks of the mountains, how the vast green forest beneath them looked like a gigantic carpet laid over Illyria.

Cassian was looking at the female on his arms, savouring every precious second of the moment and thanking the gods he had promised to fly slowly, just so he could hold Nesta longer.

Letting her go once they were back on the ground was one of the hardest things he had ever done, missing her warmth and her jasmine and vanilla scent as if he was missing one of his own limbs.

He hoped he affected her the same way she affected him.

Hoped she felt even a minuscule fragment of what he felt for her.

Hoped he had not misunderstood the way she too seemed to regret letting him go.

~•~

Cassian didn’t even have to take the medicine for his headache, that annoying pounding having disappeared mid flight.

Nesta Archeron, he decided, was the best medicine he could have.

And it seemed that luck was finally on his side, for when they had arrived and Cassian asked her if she’d like to eat something, Nesta surprisingly said yes, going as far as to put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea.

Feeling bashful and enjoying his luck, Cassian attempted to make some small talk with Nesta, asking her about her day, what she liked about learning to be a healer, what she thought about Esmée.

He had been scared she’d shut him out, but she answered his questions with no problem, asking him some in return.

Cassian’s day had started awful but seemed to be walking towards being the best he’d ever had, specially when he appeared in living room after a warm bath and spotted Nesta, once again sitting comfortably on the couch — one of her new books laid on her lap — hair in a simple braid and wearing that mouth watering leggings, combined with a white tunic that drew attention to her eyes.

The fireplace was, as usual, empty.

Cassian could not understand how Nesta managed to make do with only fur blankets, specially now that winter was fast approaching.

“The fireplace.... why don’t you like to light it?”

That caught Nesta’s attention, and he saw how she flinched.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous ground that he was walking on.

They had only talked about futilities so far. But to ask her something so personal, something he suspected was related to the war and her traumas...

He didn’t want to see her back to the dark and empty place she used to go when she had first arrived, eyes faraway and empty.

“You don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable, but I’m... worried” Cassian flapped his wings a little, an evident sign of his anxiousness “Winter in Illyria is ruthless”

“It was no different from when I was human” Nesta snapped, but her voice had a slight tremble to it.

“It is. And you...we won’t be able to go through it if we don’t have a fire burning” he walked towards the sofa, daring to sit down beside Nesta, but holding himself back from touching her hand, which clutched the hardcover of the book “Even the wards and walls here are not enough to keep the cold away. Winter at Illyria won’t be like winter in the human land. Or in Velaris”

Nesta only stared and stared at the fireplace, as if it would light up any minute. After some time, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“The sound that the fire makes...when it burns...it reminds me of bones” she shuddered “Of bones breaking”

Her father’s neck.

Maybe even his wings.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known and last solstice she had stayed all night, without complaining about the noise. Without asking to diminish the fire or even make it soundless — Cassian knew that Rhysand, Amren or even Mor would be able to do it. But she had not asked to. Had not wanted to appear weak. To most probably not worry Feyre.

Nesta had been suffering all this time.

Alone.

“I... I have no magic. At least not any apart from the killing power every Illyrian has. So I’m not able to make the fire soundless”

“But you could do it” he added softly “If you lit the fire with your powers... I think you’d be able to turn the sound of the wood snapping off. The fire would be yours to tame. To control”

“You think it would work?” she asked, and Cassian felt a sliver of hope in her tone.

Control. It was all about control. And if Nesta felt like she was in control of the situation, she would be able to support a burning fireplace, sound or not.

“I think you are able to do whatever you wish to, but the first step is to try”

“Grab the wood then” Nesta said.

And Cassian did. He piled the wood neatly, and Nesta moved to stand in front of the fireplace, standing her hands in front of her.

“Just like we practiced” Cassian softly said, moving behind her, his front only a couple of inches from her back “Reach deep within you for it, and then redirect it to the wood”

He could picture Nesta knotting her eyebrows in concentration, and her silver flames soon appeared on her hands.

“Good, now project them towards the fire” Cassian’s voice took the tone he usually used during training, a way to ground her.

Nesta’s flames got brighter and with a little push of arms they flew towards the wood, burning it.

It started small, but soon the fire was roaring, the crack crack of wood filling the air.

“Now turn it off Nesta”

“I-I can’t” she said, her whole body starting to tremble “I don’t know how”

“You can. And you will” he placed a hand on her lower back, like he had once done a lifetime ago in a war tent “You’re the one in control. The flames obey you and no else”

Nesta’s breath was coming in pants now, but the cracking of the fire gradually began to get quieter.

“Just like that Ness” he encouraged, daring to get a little closer, until his front almost touched her back “You’re doing amazing xe nhia”

With a grunt, the sound of the burning wood died out completely, and Nesta staggered back into Cassian’s chest, the flames around her fists also disappearing.

He held her against him, filled with awe and proud of her for meeting her fear head on.

Nesta straightened herself, turning to face Cassian, her blue-gray eyes shining with some hidden emotion.

“Thank you” she whispered, and Cassian swore he had never heard more precious words.

“It was all you” he shrugged “You don’t have to thank me sweetheart”

“I wouldn’t have tried it if it weren’t for you” she stubbornly replied “So accept my thanks and stop being so headstrong”

“Me? Headstrong?” Cassian chuckled, his arms tightening around her “Aren’t you talking about yourself Nessie?”

Nesta snorted, placing her hands on his chest and Cassian prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

Being so close to Nesta did things to his heart.

And to other parts of him.

“Go make dinner you stupid bat” she said, pushing him away “Kaelin should be arriving, and I bet he’ll be starving after training”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Illyrian walked in.

“Hey...” Kaelin greeted weakly, and Cassian noticed fresh bruises on the kid’s face, the older ones barely healed.

“Kaelin!” Nesta exclaimed, practically running towards the young Illyrian “What happened?”

“Oh this is nothing” he shrugged, wincing slightly “Just lost at an one on one spar today”

“Kaelin...” Nesta tried to touch him, but the kid swiftly backed off, avoiding her.

Cassian saw the look of hurt flashing on Nesta’s face before she concealed it beneath a mask of coolness.

“I’ll just wash up and then help with dinner” saying that, Kaelin quickly left the room.

It seemed that Cassian’s luck could only go so far, for his worries about Kaelin seemed to have doubled.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae

{Please let me know if you’d like to added to my Fixed Tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #cassian x nesta

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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Here and Queer: The Witcher

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Here and Queer, Canon Queerness in The Witcher books.

I already started this series by talking about Ciri here. Her relationship required a fair amount of analysis because it began nonconsensually but continued for months after the fact and spanned three books so there was quite a bit to cover.

However, while she is the main character there are other characters who are also queer in the books including Triss Merigold, Philippa Eilhart and Geralt himself!

Let’s jump right in by talking about our first queer character: Triss.

She is explicitly confirmed as Queer in Blood of Elves during this internal monologue:

As far as her erotic life was concerned, Triss Merigold had the right to consider herself a typical enchantress. It had began with the sour taste of forbidden fruit, made all the more exciting by the strict rules of the academy and the prohibitions of the mistress under whom she practised. Then came her independence, freedom and a crazy promiscuity which ended, as it usually does, in bitterness, disillusionment and resignation.

Then followed a long period of loneliness and the discovery that if she wanted to release her tension and stress then someone who wanted to consider himself her lord and master – as soon as he had turned on his back and wiped the sweat from his brow – was entirely superfluous.

There were far less troublesome ways of calming her nerves – ones with the additional advantages of not staining her towels with blood, not passing wind under the quilt and not demanding breakfast. That was followed by a short-lived and entertaining fascination with the same sex, which ended in the conclusion that soiling towels, passing wind and greediness were by no means exclusively male attributes.

Finally, like all but a few magicians, Triss moved to affairs with other wizards, which proved sporadic and frustrating in their cold, technical and almost ritual course.

Sounds here like Triss enjoyed her relationships with women but the forced heteronormativity of society caught up with her. This actually hits quite a bit for me as Triss states that her relationships with men seemed lacking after she had relationships with women.

Of course, there is also this scene in The Tower of Swallows:

The brilliant beam of light, broken by the diamond, flashed on the surface of the mirror. Yennefer stretched out both hands and began chanting a spell. The blindingly bright light reflected and concentrated into a fog. Soon, a picture began to emerge. The image of a room whose walls were covered with colorful tapestries.

A movement at the window. And a troubled voice. “Who? Who's there?”

“I'm here, Triss.”

“Yennefer! That you? Gods! How did… Where are you?”

“It does not matter where I am. Do not block the image, because the picture varies. And take away that candle, it’s blinding.”

“Right. Of course.”

Although it was late at night, Triss Merigold was wearing neither lingerie nor her work clothes. She wore a dress for going out. As usual, high-collared and closed.

“Can we talk freely?”

“Of course.”

“You're alone?”

“Yes.”

“You're lying.”

“Yennefer…”

“You are deceiving me, brat. I know your face; I know you too well. It’s the same look you had when you started sleeping with Geralt behind my back. Back then, you put on the same sheepish, innocent mask that I see on your face now. And it means the same thing now that it meant back then!”

Triss was red. Philippa Eilhart appeared in the window next to her, dressed in a dark blue men’s jerkin. “Bravo,” she said. “As usual, quick. As usual, perceptive. As usual, hard to grasp and understand. I am glad to see you in health, Yennefer. I am happy that your crazy teleportation from Montecalvo did not end in tragedy.”

Gonna be very honest here, as someone who has had to hide their girlfriend when a friend or parents walks into your room, that is exactly how I read this scene. Yennefer saying Triss has the look on her face of someone who just got laid? Philippa coming out of hiding and calling Yennefer perceptive? The fact that when Yennefer first called Triss didn’t let her see what was going on and then appeared fully dressed after blocking the image? I don’t know about anyone else, but I read this as Yennefer catching Triss and Philippa together romantically.

However, even if you don’t buy this scene as explicitly showing a relationship between the two of them, Triss is still queer as well as Philippa.

From Time of Contempt:

“So it is!’ said Marti Södergren, leaning over and wrinkling her nose, after which she picked up a goblet and looked at the traces of crimson lipstick on it. ‘Ah, Philippa Eilhart. I should have known. Who else would have dared to do something so brazen? That revolting snake. Did you know she spies for Vizimir of Redania?’

‘And is a nymphomaniac?’ risked the Witcher. Marti and Keira snorted in unison.

‘Is that what you were counting on, fawning over her and flirting with her?’ asked the seductress. ‘If so, you ought to know someone’s played a mean trick on you. Philippa lost her taste for men some time ago.”

Another Philippa scene from The Tower of Swallows:

Philippa Eilhart was in a short nightgown with thin straps, and her face and neck had traces of lipstick. Assire, with a great effort of will, contained an expression of displeasure. Never, ever, will I understand this. And I do not want to understand.

“Can we speak freely?”

Philippa’s hand made a sweeping gesture. And she surrounded herself with a magic sphere of discretion.”

Answering a telecomm with lipstick all over ur neck is such a queer power move and honestly Philippa might be manipulative but damn the energy she exudes.

As well as Philippa and Triss, there is the infamous bath scene with Geralt and Borch from Sword of Destiny:

“Let’s make merry!’ Three Jackdaws leant across the table and slapped Téa on the backside. ‘Let’s make merry, Witcher. Hey, landlord! Over here!’

The innkeeper scuttled briskly over, wiping his hands on his apron.

‘Could you lay your hands on a tub? The kind you launder clothes in, sturdy and large?’

‘How large, sir?’

‘For four people.’

‘For… four…’ the innkeeper opened his mouth.

‘For four,’ Three Jackdaws confirmed, drawing a full purse from his pocket. ‘I could.’ The innkeeper licked his lips.

‘Splendid,’ Borch laughed. ‘Have it carried upstairs to my room and filled with hot water. With all speed, comrade. And have beer brought there too. Three pitchers.’

The Zerrikanians giggled and winked at the same time.

‘Which one do you prefer?’ Three Jackdaws asked. ‘Eh? Geralt?’

The Witcher scratched the back of his head.

‘I know it’s difficult to choose,’ said Three Jackdaws, understandingly. ‘I occasionally have difficulty myself. Never mind, we’ll give it some thought in the tub. Hey, girls. Help me up the stairs!”

Now, there’s a lot of people who read this scene and say: hey now, Geralt didn’t actually sleep with Borch. They just slept with two women. Together. In a bath. Now, I don’t know about any of you, but when four people are naked in a bath together all having sex it’s not a situation where you can say no-homo bro and call it a day.

Also, you know, there is this line later on in Sword of Destiny:

“Véa, already mounted beside Téa, waved.

‘Véa,’ the Witcher said, ‘you were right.’

‘Hm?’

‘He is the most beautiful.”

Of course, this is in reference to Borch’s dragon form but considering the last person to call Borch beautiful was Véa who slept with him...well. Geralt is at the very least open for a variety of sexual situations.

Finally, there is Sorel Degerlund in Season of Storms who says this about Ortolan, the elderly mage of the town:

“As you’ve doubtless observed,” continued Degerlund, “I have exceptional looks and women have been known to call me an ephebe. I’m fond of women, indeed, but in principle I didn’t and don’t have anything against homosexuality. Under one condition: if it is to be, it must help me to advance my career.

My physical intimacy with Ortolan didn’t demand excessive sacrifices. The old man had long passed both the age limit for capability and desire. But I did my best for people to think otherwise and believe he’d utterly fallen for me.

Believe there was nothing he would refuse his gorgeous lover. Believe that I knew his codes, that I had access to his secret books and notes. That he was giving me artefacts and talismans he hadn’t previously revealed to anyone. And that he was teaching me forbidden spells.

Including goetia. And if previously the great men and women of Rissberg had disdained me, now they suddenly began to esteem me. I had grown in their eyes. They believed I was doing what they themselves dreamed of. And that I was achieving success.”

So this is a very minor character who only appears in one adventure but he is queer. Well, to clarify he is queer for...career advancement? Honestly I have no idea if asaps is trying to make a statement here or if he was writing this and thought to himself: what if the mage was queer but only in order to advance his career? Sounds fun, let’s do it.

So overall, there are queer characters in The Witcher, from Ciri to Triss to Geralt to Philippa to guy who is gay to advance his career in Season of Storms. There are likely other minor characters I might have missed, so feel free to add them!

I hope to see these characters as queer in the show and it’s really nice to have this type of representation in fantasy, especially a series such as The Witcher. And yes, there are a number of problematic tropes and issues this writing can stumble into but it is still nice to see a variety of sexualities, especially in the main characters such as Ciri and Geralt.

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jhoudiey · 3 years

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Did something cute for Floyd's first father's day with Mido! 🥺🥺🥺 Chaos fam owns my whole frickin life. No warnings 1700 words

Floyds hands searched the cold sheets where he’d normally find his wife and daughter sleeping and let out a groan. It was father’s day and they’d left without even waking him up to say good morning. He rolled in bed pouting hoping they would come back, but after half an hour decided to go look for them himself. He didn’t want to spend the day alone, that wouldn’t be any fun at all. He picked a tshirt off the floor and smelled it, he’d only worn it a few times so it was perfectly fine to wear again, the stains on the front barely visible.

The door creaked loudly as he opened it, startling one of the castle staff as he cleaned.

“Good morning Leech-san” he nodded, continuing to dust the ornate frames that adorned the walls.

“Do you know where Yoru and Mido went?”

The man shook his head with an apology, bowing slightly before moving along down the corridor. A grin crept across Floyd’s face, maybe they’d disappeared to set up a game of hide and seek. He had always liked to chase them. Floyd laughed and took off running down the hall towards the library. Yoru was fond of books, back at NRC he’d found her hidey hole on top of the shelves and crashed her study sessions often. She was probably teaching Mido the best way to hide amongst the stacks. When he arrived it was silent, as a library normally was. He spied the boring bunny girl from Yoru’s old school at one of the tables and ignored her. Mido wasn’t capable of staying quiet this long, they weren’t here. He tore off down the hallway again, the library door closing quietly on it’s hushed frame.

“Aha!” He shouted, throwing open the door to the aviary, frightened birds flying from their perches indignantly. No Yoru or Mido here either, if they were surely Mido would have cheered at the flight of so many birds at once. He stopped for a moment in the doorway as the birds slowly returned to their places, grinning once more. He knew where they’d be.

Floyd heard them before he saw them as he crept quietly down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Hey Mido-chan, do you think your papa will want some of these?” a dry shake of some sort of ingredient rattled in it’s container.

“YAAAAAAA!!!!” a wet slapping sound and a giggle.

Yoru was facing away from him as he tiptoed into the kitchen behind her, Midori sitting on the counter, the bowl of what he assumed was breakfast in front of her as she slapped her tiny hands into it, laughing when it oozed over her tiny webbed fingers. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and though he pressed his finger to his lips to ask her to keep his presence a secret she threw her hands in the air and shouted

“PAPA!!!!” before he could get into scaring range. Yoru turned to him with a smile, spatula in hand. She was wearing the tacky ‘kiss the cook’ apron Lilia had gotten her for Christmas and he was happy to oblige. He wrapped his arms around his wife and leaned on her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Ne Yoru, I thought you went somewhere without me” he pouted, watching Midori slap the batter as hard as she could manage before plunging her arms in as deep as they would go. Yoru shook her head

“We wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but these are harder to make than I thought”

Floyd looked at the counter top in front of them. Yoru had a recipe book open, the words “Pyroxene’s Pancake Perfection!” blazing across the top of the page. He scanned the ingredients list… nothing weird here that would be difficult… then looked at the counter. The regular ingredients were present, however Yoru, for whatever reason had decided to add to the recipe, despite never having successfully cooked anything without instruction. She was nearly as bad as Lilia without supervision.

“...Yoru...did you put the whole egg in?” he asked, noticing the white flakes floating around Midori’s fingers

“Hmmm? Yea. Mido liked the crunch and how the yolk came out so I put a few in there”

“...A few?” He dropped his head beside hers to stare into her face as he teased her. “How many is a few?”

Yoru stuck her tongue out at him and placed another in the bowl in front of Midori, now screeching at the top of her lungs in excitement.

“CRUMSH! CRUMSH! CRUMSH!” Midori shouted as she crushed the egg into runny batter.

“Ahahhaha these are going to be reaaaally~ gross” Floyd chuckled, dipping a finger into the bowl. “Here, try it!” He smeared his hand across Yoru’s face with a laugh as she laughed and struggled to get free of his embrace.

“Ooops sorry, missed your mouth, lemme try again” Floyd reached his whole hand into the bowl as Midori cheered and tried to feed Yoru a handful of the eggy batter. To his delight, some of it actually made it into her mouth, but she bit his hand so most of it slopped down her apron.

“Oh hey! We made this for you…” Yoru struggled against Floyd, he gripped her wrists as she struggled to get handfuls of the batter to pay back the favour “You should eat it too!”

“Nah I don’t wanna, I told you they look like they’ll be gross”

“PAPA! YUMMY!” Midori laughed, pancake batter dripping from her mouth as she patted his hands with hers. She tried to stand but was unsteady on her little bird feet, the edge of the bowl wobbling as she tried to use it for balance.

“Mido-chan~ don’t eat that kay?!” He let go of Yoru’s struggling hands and reached for her as she toppled face first into the bowl. “Hey Mido-chan, you okay?!” He pulled Midori out of the mixture, the smile on her face nearly reaching her ears.

“WET! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” She reached for Floyd and he hugged her against the side of his face, Midori finally dealing the pancake mixture deathblow Yoru hadn’t been able to manage. She was drenched in it. It dripped off of her all over his face and hair, dripping down passed them both and landing on Yoru. The kitchen staff found the three of them laughing hysterically locked in an embrace, scooping whatever they could from the nearly empty bowl onto each other's heads.

“Leech-san. Crowley-san. Midori-chan. We need to prepare for lunch now… would you please relocate your…” They looked in horror at the mess they had made of the kitchen “...whatever this is somewhere else. We’ll handle the cleaning, please just leave us to it”

“WADDEBER! WADDEBER!” Midori shouted, squeezing Floyds cheeks to have him make faces at the staff

“Aha! ...You know.. Waddeber kinda sounds like water…. LET'S GO SWIMMING! COME ON!” He pulled away from Yoru and grabbed her wrist, cradling Midori to his chest as he ran out of the kitchen, dragging Yoru behind them cackling like a madman. He ran them to the lake, only letting go of Yoru’s hand when he ran to the edge of the dock and jumped, Midori still safely wrapped in his arms. Their laughter was cut off when they sunk below the surface of the water. Yoru sighed and carefully climbed down the ladder at the dock, she didn’t want to get her wings too wet otherwise they’d be damp for hours. She was one rung away from the surface when Floyd rose from the depths below her and pulled her in completely.

“WADDER WADDER!” Midori shouted as she swam in circles around them. She’d been swimming ever since she was born and loved it. Floyd reached his hand out and caught her to wipe the remnants of their breakfast out of her hair. Yoru did the same for Floyd as he looked after their daughter. When Midori was finally pancake-batter-that-was-mostly-egg free, Floyd turned to Yoru and helped her wash the sludge out of her hair.

“Wow Yoru, you’re really bad at eating, you got it everywhere!” She glared at him but had to suppress her grin as he scrubbed at the stubborn egg.

“MAMAAAAAAAAAAAA” Midori shouted as she zoomed towards the pair of them, hands full of seaweed. “LOOK BREADFIST!” She placed the tendrils gently into Yoru and Floyds hands as they offered them and dived back into the lake to get more.

“Oh. I guess we didn’t actually eat did we?”

“Nope, oh! There’s that restaurant on main street that said they had special waffles today! We should go! I’ll get Mido!” Floyd dived under the water, surfacing seconds later with his laughing daughter on his shoulders. She had somehow dug up a clam and was trying to pry it open on his head.

“Come on Mido-chan! Let’s go get waffles! Hold on tight!” She cheered and threw the clam back into the water with a splash, tightly wrapping her arms around his forehead to secure herself. He waited for Yoru to climb up the ladder before following behind to begin the walk to the village. They arrived at the restaurant shortly after it opened before a line had managed to form. The staff stared wide-eyed at the three of them, laughing and sopping wet, dripping water all over the ornate carpet.

“Table for three, please”

***

Later that evening Floyd found himself laying in bed, Midori fast asleep sprawled out across his chest.

“Hey Yoru?” He hummed quietly as she joined them in bed.

“Hmmm?” She cuddled against him with her head on his shoulder, her hand draped across his chest to hold onto Midori’s tiny hand.

“Today was really fun” Yoru looked up at him and smiled

“It was. I love you, Floyd. Happy Fathers Day” She kissed him softly and settled back into the crook of his arm. He sighed happily and wrapped his hand around her waist, the other hooked around Midori’s other hand. He gazed down at his family affectionately, knowing he held the entire world in his arms.

#twst oc #yoru Crowley #floyd Leech #Midori Leech #chaos fam #twisted Wonderland OC #twst #twisted wonderland #dumb and Dumber

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secretshinigami · 3 years

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Phototaxis

Author: @kiranatrix For: @baranedizille Pairings/Characters: Light Yagami, L Lawliet, Ryuk, Sayu Yagami, Sachiko Yagami, Socihiro Yagami // Lawlight if you squint, or not Rating/Warnings: Gen // no warnings Prompt: To-Oh timeline. L visits the Yagamis to work on a project with Light, L has a dinner with Light’s family and it’s awkward. And ofc, Ryuk is also there commenting the situation. Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy the story! This occurs on the evening of April 11 while Light and L are both at To-Oh. Soichiro has been resting at home following his heart attack on April 7 (the day of Light and L’s tennis match). The Japanese legend mentioned in the fic (The Fire Quest) is a real one. Sayu gets it mostly correct, but the traditional version in English is here: https://www.worldoftales.com/Asian_folktales/Japanese_folktale_49.html.

—–

Hideki Ryuga– L –was coming over tonight and Light hardly knew how to handle it. L, with his too-long fingers and his too-intense stare, his perfectly enunciated Japanese and teeth unrealistically white for an all-sugar diet, was coming to Light’s house for dinner and, purportedly, to study.

It was a lie, but that was their preferred currency when shifting closer. Stepping together to a stage, a classroom, a tennis court, a cafe– each time the way was paved with lies, petals they threw at the other’s feet and pretended not to notice. It made getting to the destination sweeter when the end was had only ever been death for one or the other. And still, they couldn’t stop. Light was so glad L hadn’t stopped.

L would be arriving any moment but Light couldn’t help but take out his Death Note from its hiding place, just to touch the pebbly leather of his ace in this game. The Death Note was no proper diary but the handwriting in it betrayed plenty about the emotional state and thoughts of its owner these past months. There was the first casually-scrawled name, jotted off like the joke Light believed it to be. Kurou Otoharada. A long, jagged pen mark bled across the rest of the page, a horizon of surprise when that first death dawned. The next name had been carefully written several times with the spelling slightly shifted, the last instances hurried and impatient. There was an exclamation point by the third experiment, exactly 40 seconds from when he’d inked the right combination. Takuo Shibuimaru. It had probably been added in shock, but Light chose to remember a different reason. I got it right, I won.

The names filling the following pages were unremarkable except that they looked exactly like the handwriting on Light’s homework. Studious, easy, and correct without the requirement of much thought. This was a different kind of work, performed as professionally as an accountant. A roster of the worst murderers of the world, the lowest hanging fruit, and Light plucked them nightly when he wasn’t sure how many more nights he’d have. Surely there had to be some price for what he was doing? Aren’t you going to take my soul? Ryuk laughed at him, was impressed by him, and that was a good sign for a shinigami; he would take something but not for a while.

It wasn’t until about ten pages in that things got telling again. A name written diagonally, frantically, and taking up nearly an entire page– Lind L. Tailor. Light’s adrenaline and fury and glee stained the paper as much as the ink had, from a pen that he didn’t use often and had grabbed as quickly as possible during L’s broadcast. Everything about this name was different, just as L was different from all those who had come before. This name was the hook that pulled Kira out of the shadows and thrust L into the light, a breadcrumb for both of them to devour and hunger for more.

This elaborate name was immediately replaced in Light’s mind by a single stark gothic letter, so much so that even when he looked back on that day, he didn’t recall a suited nobody slumped over a desk and dragged away on-camera. He only recalled ‘come find me, come find me, kill me if you can.’ Light was so accustomed to everything and everyone being boring and easy, to nothing getting to him. L’s challenge had wormed into his mind and he felt alive for the first time in his life.

Perhaps the smart thing to do would have been to go silent a while, wait it out until the heat died down and he could find out more about L and his methods. Light had tipped his hand a little but not enough to give the game away, only to set it in motion. Yes, he probably should have played it safe. But he couldn’t stop and he couldn’t help but taunt L further, just to keep chasing that new and intensifying feeling of being alive. The danger was part of their dance, and Light wanted to play with L for as long as possible before Kira killed him.

Lind L. Tailor. The ‘L’ had been darkly underlined, reminding Light of the dark half-moons shadowing the eyes of the real man when Light finally met him. The slant of Light’s scrawl, like the hunch of L’s back. The letter ugly and infuriating and fascinating and shouting at him from the page, drawing his finger to trace over it…

Light pulled his finger back like he’d been burned when he heard his mother calling up to him, heartbeat thudding as he bit his lip and grinned. He quickly snapped his Death Note shut and carefully placed it back in his rigged desk drawer. He’s here.

“Light! Sayu!” Sachiko leaned to call up the stairs from where she was washing her hands in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on their meal. “Would one of you get the door, please?”

She gave Soichiro a stern look as he shifted on the couch. “Not you, Soichi. If you insist on going back to work tomorrow I want you resting tonight.” Her husband had only come home from the hospital a few days ago after his stress-related heart attack and she was anxious about letting him go right back.

“Coming!” Light bustled out of his bedroom as the doorbell chimed again, nearly barreling into Sayu. “Whoa!” He gripped her shoulders to steady himself, smiling and flustered. “Don’t worry about it, Sayu. I’ll get it.”

“Oooo, who’s coming over tonight?” Sayu grinned up at her brother, noticing a rare faint blush on his cheeks. “You look so nervous! Is it a girlfriend?”

Ryuk floated through Light’s bedroom wall, chuckling at the insinuation. “Pfft, not exactly.” It hadn’t escaped Ryuk’s notice that Light had taken even more care than usual with his appearance tonight and that he’d been mulling over the Death Note in a rather odd way. “Ya do look a little flushed, though. Hyuk hyuk…”

“No.” Light rolled his eyes as he made his way downstairs, ignoring both his sister and the shinigami. Do I really look nervous? He smoothed his features and said, “It’s just Hideki Ryuga from Ecology class. We have a project to work on tonight.” His father was the only other person who knew who Ryuga really was. L, the infuriating detective spying on him at To-Oh. Ryuk knew even more than that; namely, that Light was the very person L was looking for, but a shinigami was the best secret-keeper.

“HIDEKI RYUGA?! Light! THE Hideki Ryuga?!” Sayu bounded down the stairs excitedly after Light, squealing with delight and clutching her hands over her heart. “I want to meet him, too! I’m his biggest fan! I know a lot about ecology and maybe I can help you–”

“Shhh! Sayu, please.” Light shot Sayu a good-natured warning look as he opened the door then forced himself to smile cordially at L. “Hi, Ryuga.” He heard a soft noise of disappointment from Sayu as well as peals of shinigami laughter. It would have been Light’s reaction if the movie star had actually been there instead of his rival.

“Hello, Light-kun. Good to see you again.” L was wearing his usual attire, a white long-sleeved shirt and baggy jeans, and he had a backpack slung over one hunched shoulder. He’d made a half-hearted attempt to brush his hair tonight, but the effort had been rewarded with a fluffy black halo that was even more wild-looking than his usual spikey bed-head.

“I see you managed to find the house.” There was a faint note of sarcasm in Light’s voice. As if L hadn’t gathered all the information he could about Light, illegally, invasively, or otherwise.

A small, wry smile tugged at L’s lips and he answered, deadpan, “Yes, seeing that I am here, I apparently managed just fine. Are you impressed?”

“Incredibly. Please come in.” Smartass. Light held the door open for L to enter and gestured to Sayu just behind him. “This is my sister, Sayu.”

Sayu had been peeking around Light, eyes wide with curiosity about the odd-looking person who was most definitely not the idol she’d been hoping for. She’d met lots of Light’s friends over the years but no one quite like this. “Wow…I’ve never seen anyone’s hair do that before. Where are you from? Are you older than Light? How does-”

“Sayu!” Sachiko rubbed her hands on her apron and sighed in fond exasperation. “Hideki-san, please forgive my child’s rudeness. She’s just excited to meet Light’s best friend at school.”

Best friend? L’s eyes cut to Light, who immediately looked away. It amused L to hear their lies mirrored by other people.

Sachiko bowed politely and gave him a warm smile. “You are very welcome in our home. I’ll be serving dinner in a few moments.” She arched a brow at Sayu, “Please go set the table, Sayu.”

L gladly toed out of his worn sneakers, padding along barefoot behind Light through the foyer and into the living room. “Your home is very cozy, Light-kun.”

Ryuk snorted, “Like he hasn’t already seen every inch of it on camera.”

Exactly. Light clenched his hand in his pocket but didn’t let his expression falter. “Dad, Hideki Ryuga is here for dinner. We have a project to work on tonight.”

Soichiro looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading on the couch and gave L a polite nod. “Forgive me for not getting up, Hideki-san, I’ve been confined to the couch until dinner on my wife’s orders.” It was slightly uncomfortable to have L here in his home given that he knew his son was under some suspicion. Soichiro dismissed those suspicions out of hand, but he dreaded that L might turn his searchlights on Light during family dinner.

“Please call me Ryuga.” L gave Light a crooked grin. “That’s what my friends call me.”

Sayu skipped into the living room with a fist full of chopsticks. “Mom says you can go ahead and sit down. It’s yakisoba tonight!” She grabbed the guest’s arm and dragged him over to the table. “You can sit beside Light, Ryuga.”

L blushed faintly but let himself be pulled along. “Ah…alright.” It was strange to realize that he’d never had a ‘real’ family dinner inside someone’s home before. Of course, he’d never had a family or friends, so perhaps not so surprising. He dropped his backpack to the floor and climbed into the seat beside Light, crouching as he usually did.

Light and Soichiro didn’t bat an eye at that but Sayu couldn’t help but gape at him. “Isn’t that an uncomfortable way to sit? My legs would fall asleep!”

“Sayu.” Soichiro sat down at the place opposite Light. “Ryuga is our guest, and he’s welcome to sit how he pleases.” He knew from experience that whether L, Ryuzaki, or Ryuga, the peculiar man would do things his own way.

Sachiko came in a moment later with the dishes for dinner, including yakisoba, miso soup, rice, and pickles. “Please help yourselves. We’re not very formal around here, Ryuga.”

Ryuk floated behind Light, one clawed hand curled around the back of the human’s chair. “Dunno why you humans go to so much trouble when ya could just have apples.”

“Hmm.” L peered at the various options, one finger perched on his lip. “I’ve never had yakisoba before. I admit I don’t eat many noodle dishes.” He’d brought some candy bars and a slice of cake in his backpack in case he didn’t like the food. Wammy had told him to at least wait until he was up in Light’s room studying to eat it, though. Apparently it was rude not to at least try the meal (although he still wasn’t sure if he cared).

“I bet you’d like it.” Light served L some noodles and then put some on his own plate. He whispered to L, “Don’t be difficult. It’s sweet.” He wasn’t about to tell L that he’d suggested yakisoba to his mother tonight for that very reason, or that there were vegetables hiding in it. Why in the hell do I care about pleasing him?

“Hmm.” L tentatively picked up his chopsticks and poked at the noodles, looking between them and Light. “Is it spicy?” It was also becoming clear that he’d never used chopsticks before and they kept slipping from his hand. Why hadn’t he asked Wammy to show him how to use them?

“No, it’s not–here, you’re not holding them right.” Light set his own chopsticks down and took L’s hand, gently molding the fingers into the right position to hold the utensils. He’d done the same thing for Sayu when she was small and learning, so the offer felt automatic. It wasn’t until he looked up and saw L staring at him that he felt self-conscious and pulled away. The gesture had felt too genuine and that made it suspicious. “Well, that’s how to do it. I know you’re a quick learner and will pick it up.”

L looked down and murmured, “Was that a pun, Light-kun?” He concentrated and managed to pinch a bite of yakisoba, quickly shoveling it into his mouth before it fell off. “…mmm!” He didn’t bother to completely swallow the mouthful before saying, “It is sweet. And quite good.” He picked up another bite with slightly more dexterity. “I like it.” Perhaps the cake in his bag could just be for dessert.

Light smiled across the table. “It really is good, Mom, thank you.”

“Oh, you’re always welcome.” Sachiko beamed happily as L quickly devoured his noodles and took another helping.

Soichiro relaxed a little, seeing as things were going more smoothly than he’d expected. “So, boys, what is your project about?”

“It’s for Ecology. We have to collect an insect and bring it to class tomorrow since the lecture is on local entomology.” Light took a sip of tea to hide his amused smile; L was handling the chopsticks perfectly now. Of course he’d be good at that, too.

“Eww.” Ryuk scrunched up his nose, he didn’t much like bugs and creepy-crawly things. “Hope it won’t be flappin’ in a box all night cause that would creep me out.”

“Not just on local entomology, Light-kun.” L chewed a few times, loudly, and swallowed his mouthful. “It’s also on insect phototaxis.”

Sayu, tilted her head and asked, “What’s that?”

L suddenly wished he hadn’t spoken up at all. “Well….” He looked down at his meal, stabbing at the noodles. “…an attraction to light. Some insects, like moths, use the moon to navigate and become confused by artificial light. That’s why they flap around outdoor lightbulbs at night.”

“Oh! Like the Fire Quest!” Sayu nodded sagely. “I know all about that.” When Ryuga just looked at her blankly, she added, “You haven’t heard that story? It’s a famous Japanese legend!”

Soichiro sighed, “I’m sure Ryuga doesn’t–”

“I have not heard it.” L set his chopsticks down and leaned forward in his crouch, hands on his knees as he stared at Sayu. “Please tell me the legend.”

“Sure! See, Light, I told you I could help with your project.”

Light grinned and laughed softly. “Just tell the story, Sayu.” Japanese folktales weren’t going to help them but he was happy to indulge his little sister.

“I’m getting to it!” Sayu sat up straight in her chair, trying to look and sound more official. “There was a queen of the fireflies who lived in a lotus blossom in the middle of a peaceful pond. She was so beautiful that all the moths, dragonflies, and other bugs who lived around the pond were constantly bothering her, begging to marry her. But she didn’t want any of them so it was very annoying.”

L nodded seriously. “Yes, I can see why that would present a problem. Did she tell them all to go away?”

“Oh, she tried! But they wouldn’t listen and there got to be so many bugs on her lotus blossom she was afraid it was going to sink. Completely messing up the whole peaceful pond aesthetic.”

Light snickered and dropped his chin into his hand, smiling at Sayu. “I don’t remember that little detail from the story.”

“Shhh!” Sayu stuck out her tongue at Light and continued. “Anyway, she thought up a way to get rid of them all. She told them that since she was a firefly, she could only marry the bug that brought fire back to her. Whatever bug did that was worthy to be with her forever.”

L gave her a lop-sided smile. “I can’t imagine that turned out well for the insect suitors.”

“Nope! But they couldn’t help themselves. They fluttered and flew around candles, torches, bonfires, all trying to catch the fire that the queen had told them to find but every one of them burned up instead. Nobody completed the Fire Quest and the firefly queen and her pond were left in peace.” Sayu smiled proudly. “The end.”

Ryuk had been hanging on Sayu’s every word, half-sitting on the table. “Hahaha! What a great queen!” He hadn’t been aware that fireflies were so sneaky but there was still a lot about the human world he didn’t know. “Now I wanna see a firefly!”

Light hummed thoughtfully, recalling the legend from his own childhood. Sayu had embellished a bit but it was mostly accurate. “Serves the suitors right, I suppose. They should have listened when the queen told them to go away.”

“The queen sent them on a quest she knew would result in their deaths.” L turned to look at Light, a small smirk on his lips. “Their annoyance hardly necessitates murder, Light-kun.”

“Murder?” Light laughed in a charming way but there was shrewd interest in his eyes. “She didn’t tell them to burn themselves up. They should have known better.” They couldn’t help themselves. Just like we can’t. “Anyway, it’s just a silly legend.”

Soichiro quickly changed the subject.

—-

After dinner, Light showed L up to his bedroom where they could catch an insect from his balcony. His mother had given them a large glass jar and he set it down on his desk, thrilling at having L so close to his secrets. “There’s a bright light on the balcony but it might take a few moments to attract anything.” He switched on the light, dimming the desk lamp so they could see outside better. He leaned against the glass door, watching L mentally cataloging the contents of his room. “I was surprised when you asked me to help you with this project, Ryuga. It’s not very difficult to catch your own bug.” I know you just wanted to see my room for yourself.

“I have never done it before.” L crouched in Light’s desk chair, opening up his backpack and taking out the slice of cake he’d stowed inside. Tonight had been full of firsts for him– chopsticks, yakisoba, legends, bugs. “I didn’t want to kill it since we’re supposed to bring it in alive.” He forked a piece of the strawberry cake, staring at Light while he ate it. Mouth full, he grinned and said, “Think we’ll catch a firefly?”

Light laughed softly and shook his head. “Not really the right time of year for them. They come out in the summer.” He gazed out the glass door, noticing a few flies and mosquitos starting to circle around the caged bulb. “Sometimes we see them in our backyard. Sayu and I would catch them when we were kids.”

“Pity. After hearing your sister’s story, I wanted to see one.” L ate the last bite of cake, placing the empty plastic box in Light’s trashcan (after glancing to see what else was in there).

Light asked over his shoulder quietly, “Don’t they have fireflies in England?”

L smiled slyly, getting up to stand beside Light at the glass door. He recognized the bait and only gave the line a tug. “They do, but doesn’t mean I was there to see them.” In truth, he’d been too wrapped up in his cases to venture outside much as a child. Such single-minded focus had benefitted him in some ways and set him apart from a normal childhood in others. “Perhaps Light-kun will invite me back in the summertime.”

“Of course, Ryuga.” Light smiled at him, catching his reflection in the glass. How long would their game go on? Into the summer, the fall? What season would see it end?

“Look.” L tapped the glass just over Light’s reflection, but what he was pointing to was on the other side. A large green-winged luna moth had landed on the cage surrounding the light bulb and was lazily flapping its wings and warming itself. “The first suitor has arrived.”

“Still haven’t learned the ‘murderous’ queen’s lesson.” Light laughed and grabbed the jar off his desk. “Lucky for them we have electric lights and not fire.” He unscrewed the top and handed the jar to L. “Cmon, you do it.”

L looked down at the jar as if it were Kira’s power instead just an old pickle jar. “The jar is too small.” He shifted to the other foot. “I’ll crush it.”

“No, I think it’s plenty big. We can put it in a shoebox after we catch it, anyway.” Light smirked at him. “You’re just making excuses. Or maybe you really can’t do it?” He knew L wouldn’t turn down a direct challenge.

“Alright.” L sighed and took the jar, frowning as he plotted his approach. Sliding the door open carefully so not to startle it, he crept forward very slowly until he was right beside it. Turning back to Light, he whispered, “Now what?”

“Just scoop it up in the jar. Try not to touch its wings, though.” Light watched as L brought the jar up to the luna moth, delicately prodding to encourage it to go into the jar by itself. Amazingly, it worked, and the moth calmly settled into the bottom of the jar.

“Light-kun!” L hurried back inside Light’s room, smiling broadly down at his captive. It looked like a miniature angel with its gracefully tapered wings and fluffy golden antennae. “It was easy after all.”

“Everything’s easy for you, isn’t it?” I know the feeling. Light screwed the top onto the jar, poking generous air holes in the lid with a pair of scissors. He held it up for both of them to see, L leaning in closely, chewing his thumb at the undamaged and placid moth. “It’s a nice catch, too. I bet no one else will bring in anything this big.”

L didn’t answer him for a long moment, just stared at the moth and the slow up-down, up-down of its wings. “What do you think would have happened if one of the suitors brought fire back?”

Light blinked. “Huh?”

“In Sayu’s legend. What might have happened if one of the suitors completed the Fire Quest and brought back fire to the queen?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess she would have burned up too if one managed to make it back to her. Would have been suicide.” Light gave L a puzzled look. “That’s impossible though. It never would have made it.”

“It might have.” L took the jar, setting it on Light’s desk and turning his full attention to his human specimen again. His hand fluttered from his mouth in a parody of a moth or a name written diagonally, frantically, and taking up nearly an entire page. “If he was a firefly, too.”

Light’s gaze followed L’s hand, those too-thin fingers that had gently ushered the moth to its prison. “So he would trick the queen and allow all the other suitors to get burned up instead of warning them?” He laughed a rare, genuine laugh. “Wouldn’t that make him as bad of a terrible, unfeeling ‘murderer’ as the queen?”

“It’s just a silly legend, Light-kun.” L stuck his hands in his pockets, giving Light a cryptic smile. “But he’d win, wouldn’t he?”

#fanfiction #submission #death note #Light Yagami #soichiro yagami #Sayu Yagami #Sachiko Yagami #l lawliet #l #lawlight #kiranatrix #baranedizille #Mello's Birthday Mayhem 2020

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melodicmochi · 3 years

Note

could you write 78 with spiceshipping ft mimo🥺🥺

thanks so much for sending this in, anon!! (I LOVE MIMO - SHE HAS MY WHOLE HEART) - click here to read on ao3 or keep reading below! more info about my 100 drabble challenge can be found here

“Mallow?” Kiawe was groggy as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Mimo?” Laughter resonated from the kitchen, and he narrowed his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and padding across the living room.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Mallow called.

Mimo giggled, “Yeah, we’re in the kitchen!”

Furrowing his brows, Kiawe stepped into the kitchen, hands on his hips. “Mimo, you haven’t been giving Mallow any trouble, have you?”

“Of course she hasn’t, Kiawe,” Mallow replied with a laugh. She watched carefully as Mimo stood on a chair and stirred a bowl of batter with a wooden spoon. “You passed out for about an hour so we figured we’d make something sweet before you woke up!”

Kiawe couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features at the sight of them together. They were both dressed in pink aprons with their hair pulled back, and Mimo almost reached Mallow’s height while standing on her little chair. “I’m sorry, Mallow,” he apologized, standing beside her. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, but I guess my delivery work really wore me out today.”

“It’s no big deal,” Mallow shrugged with a smile. “I always love baking with Mimo. She’s a great help in the kitchen.”

“I am! I am!” Mimo beamed, clapping her hands excitedly.

Reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck, Kiawe still felt slightly bad. “But still… We were supposed to hang out; I didn’t mean to leave you and Mimo alone.”

Mallow handed Mimo the spoon covered in batter before giving her a pat on the back and sending her off to sit at the table. “It’s okay, Kiawe,” Mallow reassured him. “Really.”

Arms circling about Mallow’s waist, Kiawe bent over slightly, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. “Are you sure?” He murmured against her skin. “Mom and Dad should be back home soon to watch her.”

“I really don’t mind,” Mallow replied with a laugh. Still, she didn’t pull away… If anything, she leaned into his embrace even more.

Mindful of his baby sister just a few paces away from them, Kiawe was quick when he stole one kiss, then another from his girlfriend. “I’m glad. I like seeing you two spend time together.”

With a fond smile, Mallow glanced over at Mimo while threading her fingers through his hair. “I love her as though she were my own sister.” Mallow’s brother was rarely ever home so Kiawe knew that she treasured her time with Mimo, an honorary sibling she could shower with love.

“I know,” Kiawe replied with a grin. “And I love you even more for it.” He swooped in for another kiss, so sure he could get away with it.

“Ew!” Mimo finally piped up, wrinkling her nose as she continued licking the batter off the spoon. “That’s gross!”

Kiawe’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. “Mimo! You weren’t supposed to be looking!”

Disentangling herself from his embrace and biting back a smile, Mallow began pouring the batter she and Mimo had prepared onto a greased cookie sheet. “Hey, Mimo, do you remember how long we’re supposed to leave these in the oven?”

Scrunching her nose up in thought, Mimo took a few moments to reply. “Fifteen minutes!”

“That’s right, Mimo!” Mallow confirmed with a smile. Then, she put the sheet full of unbaked pastries into the oven and set a timer. “Let’s wash your hands from all that batter,” she said, motioning for the little girl to join her at the sink.

Kiawe watched as they soaped their hands up before rinsing them off. After they'd finished up, he also visited the sink, splashing some water on his face in an attempt to wake up more fully. Passing by his girlfriend who was taking a quick peek at the oven, he was just about to head out of the kitchen when two tiny hands slipped into his own.

“Kiawe, let's dance!” Mimo squealed excitedly. She hadn't dried her hands off on a towel so they were still a bit slippery, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

“Mimo…” Kiawe hid a smile even as she dragged him into the living room and bounced on her toes.

“C’mon, Kiawe!” Mimo exclaimed, ducking under his arms and spinning in circles. “You gotta dance with me!”

With a fond smile, Mallow put on some music, “You're a great dancer, Mimo.”

Mimo beamed at the compliment, and Kiawe swayed with her for a while before she pushed him toward his girlfriend.

“Dance with Mallow, Kiawe!”

Following Mimo’s order, Kiawe met Mallow in the center of the living room, sweeping her into his arms, and they rocked back and forth together, much to his little sister’s delight.

#spiceshipping #mochi asks #mochi writes #collection: to love #kiawe #mallow #mimo #captain kiawe #captain mallow #trial captain kiawe #trial captain mallow #kiawe x mallow #mallow x kiawe

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bigstabbymen · 3 years

Text

Special.

NSFW

(TW: noncon, abuse, kidnapping I guess? Kind of projecting past abusers into Bo so.)

Carly and her friends brought along a pity invite. AU where none of them make it. The brothers take a liking to their friend though.

Mary Cecilia Dorset had no real friends, and hardly any family to speak of, when she first arrived in Ambrose. Carly, a loose friend from high school had invited her along to go camping with her, her boyfriend, and their friends. Mary knew that none of them truly desired to be friends with her, but just by being her she provided a very special schadenfreude that they all enjoyed. While Carly wasn’t unkind to her, Mary knew she knew how her friends would react to her being invited. Mary was ill, born wrong, “different” from the time she was a toddler and everyone knew it. When the car broke down mysteriously and they had to make their way to the gas station in Ambrose, she was happy for the chance to get away from them. The house of wax seemed like the perfect place to hide for a while, and though it was closed, her curiosity lead her inside. What a fine place of beautiful things, a beauty she knew her ‘friends’ would never comprehend or properly respect. Just for the hour, this would be her sanctuary, a special place just for her. Abandoned and quiet, it was the perfect place to sing. Since Mary had been a young child she had sung to herself to keep herself company, and the sound of her voice echoed around the museum. The sound traveled, and was heard by someone far beneath her in the bowels of the museum. Vincent Sinclair was confused, startled that someone was in the museum but, intrigued just as well. When he quietly made his way up to see her, he gasped to himself. What a beautiful girl, what a beautiful sculpture she would make, he thought. Her hair was chestnut brown and down to her waist, she wore a sweater almost as bulky as his own and a black skirt, black tights, black shoes. Her eyes were closed as she sang, and Vincent felt conflicted. If he made a sculpture of her he would never hear her sing again, maybe he could record her singing and play it always beside her sculpture, maybe he would keep it in the basement with him or in his room, maybe he could hide her from Bo and keep her all to himself, something for him and only him. His stomach churned. It was such an odd feeling, a sudden pang of empathy sharp as a needle in his heart. The desire not to hurt this creature, to keep her all to him, but alive and warm and moving and singing.

Though, Bo would never allow Vincent any beautiful thing all to himself.

Months had come and gone. All of Mary’s friends sat posed in perfect positions in the house of wax, winter came to Ambrose, and then Spring, and now under the harsh summer sun Mary stood outside of the Sinclair house in a sundress that had belonged to Trudy. Bo and Vincent both were very fond of dressing her in their mother’s old clothes, and as she hadn’t prepared to be in Ambrose longer than a few hours, she was happy for the new wardrobe. For the majority of her time here Vincent had tried his best to shield her from Bo, who mocked him incessantly for it. Vincent sketched her endlessly, sculpted her in various positions, filmed her whenever he could. So much of his workplace in the basement was full of her. He took pride in his little collection of Mary memorabilia that Bo would never have. Though eventually, Mary’s old life slipped away somewhere in the crevices of her brain and she became close to all three of the brothers Sinclair in one way or the other.

A few times a week she rode along with Lester when he went out to collect his dead treasures. He showered and put on fresh clothes for the occasion every single time, and Mary enjoyed his company. She wondered if he prettied himself up for her because she was a woman or because she was always wearing his mother’s clothes, her perfume, reminding all three of the brothers of her and making their desperate attachment to her all the more intense. Over her sundress she wore a pocketed apron, she carried a basket with her and she always took her shoes off as soon as she and Lester were away from Ambrose, in the wilderness together as free as children.

“Hey, beautiful.” Lester said as she approached. He was leaning against his truck and unabashedly staring at her chest.

“Good morning Lester.” she said and he smiled his crooked, toothy grin at her.

“Ready?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

“Absolutely.”

Lester and Mary would go out to the woods, while he searched for any dead creature he could get his dirty hands on she searched for herbs, flowers, grasses and the like she used to make medicines, berries and mushrooms she used to cook. When her basket and the pockets of her apron were full she waited for Lester at his truck. Eventually he came around, grumbling to himself.

“Nothin’ round here. Need to get out to the highway, gonna get you home before noon or I reckon’ Bo’ll skin me.” he said, spitting. He seemed so grumpy and frustrated that Mary couldn’t help but pity him.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked and he smiled shyly, looking at the ground as his cheeks flushed.

“Awh dang, course’ I do.” he said. Mary set her basket down and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him and resting his forehead against hers. His breath smelled of whiskey even this early in the morning and his erection was very apparent through his jeans as he pressed himself against her. She kissed him gently and he kissed her back desperately, it was obvious he wanted more than just a kiss, but both of them knew Bo wouldn’t be happy about it. And for that matter, neither would Vincent. Even if all of them had taken turns with her at some point of the other, she could love none of them as much as she loved Vincent. She broke the kiss and he didn’t force himself on her, Lester never did. They rode back to Ambrose mostly in silence.

Mary slipped into the house quietly, hoping not to alert Bo for as long as she could but it seemed he was out somewhere, or maybe at the gas station. Either way she was happy to be without him for the time being. The boys had given her their parents old room which she had mostly just used as a space to make tinctures and dry herbs, most nights she slept in Vincent’s bed with him, even if Bo had his way with her earlier, she would always slip away when he was finally asleep. None of the brothers could sleep well, and relied on her medicine to put them out, though she always gave Bo more than necessary.

As evening fell, Mary made her way to Vincent’s room, locking the door behind her as she entered. She knew Bo could unlock it quickly but, at least this way they would hear him coming. Vincent stood up from his desk, closing his sketchbook quickly.

“What were you drawing?” she asked kindly and he shrugged. He didn’t stop her as she made her way closer to him, opening his sketchbook and flipping through it. Image after image after image of her. Making tea in the kitchen, picking flowers, smiling, crying. Somehow he made her look beautiful.

“You can always ask me if you want me to pose for you.” She said.

“I prefer it this way.” he said quietly.

“I brought you medicine.” Mary said, plucking a small black bottle from her pocket.

“You don’t have to wear your mask around me if you don’t want to.” she said softly and he shuffled a bit uncomfortably.

“May I?” she asked as she reached for his face. He flinched, but didn’t stop her from removing it. She set it aside on his desk and pushed his hair out of his face.

“There. That’s better isn’t it.” she cooed. The way she could look at him and smile so genuinely made his heart beat so fast he thought it would explode. She ran her fingers over his face and stood on her toes to kiss both of his cheeks. His breath hitched and he put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry!” she said, knowing he was sensitive about being touched but unable to resist.

“Is this too much?”

“No. I need to kiss you.” he said breathlessly, kissing her as awkwardly as he always did. Inexperienced and innocent, but equally determined and rough. He tangled his fingers into her hair and pressed his body against hers, he pressed himself against her so hard it was like he hoped they would melt together into one person. When he finally broke the kiss to catch his breath Mary took his hand and lead him over to his bed. She began to undress him, slowly, giving him every chance to stop her if he needed to. He didn’t. He let her remove his sweater, his pants. She ran her fingers over his chest, over the trail of hair that lead down into his underwear. He grabbed her hands and pushed her down, easily pinning both of her wrists above her head in one hand. With his other hand he pushed up her dress, though she was wearing nothing beneath it. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her, her breasts, her hard nipples, her cunt..

Mary spread her legs for him and he groaned needily, his erection straining against his underwear. He tentatively reached out, slipping two of his calloused fingers into her and curling them as she had shown him before. She gasped and closed her eyes, arching her back and he bent down to take one of her nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, trying to savor every small detail of her body. He was ashamed of how many times he had pleasured himself against the sculptures he made in her image, crudely grinding his cock against the wax, taking wax nipples into his mouth, nothing compared to the real thing. Warm, soft flesh. He couldn’t wait any longer, he slid his fingers out of her and freed his cock, unceremoniously ramming it into her and releasing her wrists to hold her closely. He kissed her deeply between guttural moans, forcing his tongue into her mouth, holding onto her so tightly it was painful as he thrusted into her haphazardly, eager to be as deep inside of her as possible. Mary held him just as tightly, rubbing his back, cupping his face, stroking both of his cheeks affectionately.

“I adore you.” she said softly and his eyes rolled back as he climaxed.

Vincent didn’t want to pull out, he wanted to stay connected to Mary forever. He was nearly smothering her he was holding her to tight, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was pounding and he was still breathing heavily.

“Darling, I need to give you your medicine.” Mary said, moving his hair out of the way so she could kiss his cheek. He smiled slightly and leaned down to kiss her.

“I love you. I love you very much.” he said between kisses.

“Will you stay with me all night? Can we stay together every night, please?” he asked.

“I’m sorry if you’re tired now, or if it hurts, but sometimes could we sleep like this?”

Mary had never heard him say so much at once, he seemed so happy.

“I can try.” Mary said and Vincent happily kissed her again before finally rolling off of her.

Mary sat up and reached over to where the tincture bottle had fallen. Vincent kept a hand on her, unwilling to stop touching her for even a moment.

She straddled him, sitting on his broad chest. He bit his lip and placed his hands on her thighs, eagerly hoping to fuck her again. Instead she took the dropper from the bottle and placed a hand under his chin, opening his mouth. He lifted his tongue, allowing her to drop the bitter liquid under it. While the medicine helped, Mary’s hands stroking his hair and her soft singing were the only things to truly lull him into a restful sleep. Though, he was not the only one who required her attention in the evenings.

Bo’s footsteps were loud, sounding his arrival long before he reached Vincent’s door. Vincent grabbed Mary like he meant to hide her for a moment but she scrambled out of his grip, putting her dress back on as Bo jiggled the handle.

“Mary? You in here?” he shouted. She unlocked the door and stepped out, shutting it behind her, wanting to put space between Bo and Vincent lest he get jealous and take it out on his twin.

“Oh, ain’t this just somethin’ special.” he smirked down at her.

“How long have you been fuckin’ my brother then? Both of em?” he asked, towering over her, but he started laughing at her before she could respond.

“Ah hell. Guess we all get a turn with the only pussy in town. Don’t want you to go forgettin’ who you belong to though.” He said. He grabbed the bottle from her hand and took a swig from it, grabbing her face in his other hand and smashing his lips against hers. The bitter taste of alcohol and herbs on his lips was offensively strong as he bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You, are mine. This-” he said, releasing her face to grab her groin just as hard.

“Is mine. Say your goodnights to Vincent, I’ll be in my room. Don’t make me wait.” he said, pushing her hard into Vincent’s door and throwing the bottle at her. She hit her head against the door so hard she saw stars. As his footfalls faded Vincent finally came out, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m such a coward.” He was crying, a mess of tears and mucus, his hair sticking to his face.

“Couldn’t protect you, he’s gonna hurt you more.” he mumbled. Of all the people he had seen Bo hurt, all the people he had hurt for Bo, this was too much. Not Mary, not his Mary.

“It’ll be alright Vinny.” she said, smiling at him though her lips were covered in blood.

“I have to go see him, you know I have to. But you lay down, and as soon as he’s asleep I’ll come right back to you.” she said. Vincent whimpered pitifully and buried his face into her hair. She hugged him, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Go on now, I’ll be back.” she said. Vincent clung onto her dress as she stood and it broke Mary’s heart to pull herself away from him and make her way to Bo’s room.

Bo sat in his armchair, already naked, hazy-eyed from the medicine. He patted his thigh wordlessly and Mary slid out of her dress, sitting on his lap hesitantly. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her head where she had hit the door and kissing her forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly, forcing her to look at him.

“You know I don’t wanna have to hurt you, right? You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked, his tone so sweet and gentle.

“I know you don’t wanna hurt me. And I know you love me.” she said. He handled her roughly like she was a doll, forcing her to straddle him and lining up his cock with her entrance.

“You love me too don’t you?” he asked, looking up at her with innocent, pleading eyes.

“I love you, Bo.” she lied. He smirked and forced her down onto his cock, grabbing her so tight she felt like he could break her bones with his bare hands.

“Of course you do, and you love this cock don’t you?” he asked, forcing her up and down on him. Mary always felt like she was slipping far away when he did this to her, she was thinking of Vincent. His hand across her face snapped her out of it.

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere, you’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me how much you love me, how much you love gettin’ fucked by me understand?” he yelled. She grit her teeth, her breasts bouncing as he continued fucking her, but she complied. If not for her sake, for Vincent’s.

Bo always fell asleep quickly after and Mary left as quietly as she could, showering before she went back to Vincent. He was clinging on to consciousness at the edge of sleep, waiting for her. As soon as she got close enough he grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding onto her the way a child does to their favorite stuffed animal.

“I love you Vinny.” she said softly, stroking his hair the way his mother used to.

“I love you too.” he said, too tired to cry again, though he wanted to.

“I think you’re the only person left in the world who loves me.” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Mary continued to stroke him as she started to sing, gentle lullabies from far away lands that always lead him to fields of flowers within his dreams.

#vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #house of wax #mine #selfship #selfshipping #self ship #self shipping #f/o #herbalism is important to me irl and i love making tinctures soooo i make medicine for these poor boys #anyway this helped me cope with the bad feelings tonight.

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complexgods-backup · 3 years

Text

Isn’t It Cliché? Chapter 1

Ship: DaiSuga (Haikyuu!!)

Summary: “Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order.”

Sugawara Koushi moves to Tokyo with a broken heart and a desire to start over and falls for a handsome stranger that frequents the coffee shop he works at. Unfortunately, it’s harder for Suga to get him to open up than he thought. It’s all pretty cliché.

Word Count: 2418

Beta-read by: @mesreves

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic has become somewhat of a passion project of mine, I hope you enjoy it! I already posted 5 chapters on ao3, so feel free to read the rest (and all the tags) on there! I will try and post the chapters as regularly as uni will let me! The fic is under the cut :)

“Fuck, I’m already late,” Sugawara groaned as he finally awoke with his third alarm. It was his first day at his new job and he really needed the money, so being late was not an option and it was already 7:32 am. He dressed in a hurry, popping some toast into the toaster as he gathered all his things. He ran outside his apartment with one shoe still untied, his coat barely over his shoulders, and the piece of toast in his mouth. I can’t get any more cliché , Sugawara thought to himself as he ran down the stairs to run to the subway. Thankfully, there was a subway stop right by his apartment building and he lived only a few stops away from the Starbucks he got hired at.

As he stepped outside, the crisp autumn air hit his face and he instantly lifted his head to smell the fresh air. Autumn was his favourite season, mainly because the world turned golden brown for a few weeks and the sunsets were phenomenal. He couldn’t wait to explore the new city he moved to and watch the sunset from all around the city. He pushed the thought aside as he swallowed the last piece of toast and walked into the station, focussed on finding the right platform. He constantly checked his phone to see which stop he needed to get out at, still unsure about his orientation skills in Tokyo. Even though he visited the city multiple times as a kid, he knew that getting lost was inevitable. He watched the sun rise higher over the city as the subway continued on its journey, cramped full of people going to their 9 to 5. When his stop came up, he pushed himself out of the cart, cursing himself that he was so far back. He hated inconveniencing people.

Despite all the hassle, he managed to be in front of the Starbucks ten minutes early, signaling to his coworker already inside that he was there. Once the manager gave him his apron, she left Sugawara’s coworker to show him the ropes. Although he had already been employed at a Starbucks before, it was protocol to explain how everything worked, so he listened diligently to his coworker, who was called Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“It’s the busiest right before 9 am and after 4 pm, so you’ll be with at least two other people then. Our other colleague will be here any minute, but you’ll only take orders and work at the cash register today. That sound good?” Suga nodded, impressed at how the other took charge. When he first met him after his interview, he seemed so shy and insecure, but he was clearly in his element. Despite Sugawara being two years Yamaguchi’s elder, he did not dare speak informally to him yet, quite frankly intimidated by his authority. As soon as Yamaguchi seemed pleased with Sugawara’s work, a gorgeous woman, no older than Sugawara, walked in, and he couldn’t help but blush a little bit as she turned to him and wished him a good morning.

“I’m Kiyoko Shimizu, I’m the shift manager and I’ll be working the orders with Tadashi today, it’s nice to meet you.” She gave a shy smile and he nodded at her.

“Nice to meet you, Kiyoko-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga.” He flashed her a smile to emphasize how happy he was to meet her.

“Oh no need for the honorifics, we’re all the same age group and I’m not a big fan of formalities. Just call me Kiyoko!” Suga smiled and nodded as she walked to the back of the store to put down her things and get her apron.

Yamaguchi didn’t lie when he said that most people come through before 9 am, as the shop got extremely busy within minutes. Most of the time, the orders were pretty simple and Suga’s endless patience seemed to serve him well. He didn’t mind taking up orders, knowing that making all those complicated drinks were oftentimes less fun to make, especially if it was busy. But Yamaguchi and Kiyoko seemed to know each other extremely well, making their work ethic impeccable.

Suga didn’t even notice how fast the time went by, and when he next looked at the clock that adorned the wall opposite the till he saw it was already 10h30am. The shop was quieter now that most people got their morning coffee before work, and the three could have short conversations between customers.

“So what do you study?” Kiyoko asked, biting down on a cinnamon roll a customer decided they didn’t want after Yamaguchi had already warmed it up.

“I’m in my second year of Japanese Studies and Elementary Education. I transferred here this year because my old uni was not a good fit for me. What about you?” He asked his peers, who in turn said what they studied. Yamaguchi was an engineering major and Kiyoko was in her last Bachelor's year of studying History of Art. They were interrupted as a customer opened the door. Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order. He tried his best to hide the blush that slowly crept over his cheeks as he heard how gruff the man’s voice sounded.

“I’ll have a caramel frappuccino with three extra pumps of caramel syrup and an extra shot of espresso.” The man said, which surprised Suga for some reason. He didn’t expect the man to have such a sweet drink but he refused to let the shock show on his face as he asked for the customer’s name to write on the cup.

“Sawamura.” He gruffed, barely looking up at the barista. Suga figured he was too hungover and/or tired so he didn’t think much of it as he wrote his name on the cup with a little smiley face next to it, handing Kiyoko the cup. When his order was done, he sat down where he put his coat and immediately plugged his headphones into his phone, and started typing on his laptop.

“He most definitely forgot an assignment he was supposed to write during break.” Yamaguchi giggled as they all secretly watched the man type furiously.

“Do you know who he is?” Suga asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. The other two just shrugged.

“No. He comes here a few times a month and orders ridiculously sweet drinks. He usually stays a few hours.” Kiyoko answered, seeming uninterested. Suga nodded and decided to drop the matter. Soon there were more people coming in and out of the café and Suga was too busy to pay him any more mind. He met one other of his coworkers as Yamaguchi’s shift ended earlier. He was small and energetic, and Suga found out that he studied sports. Makes sense, Suga thought to himself as he smiled at how much energy Hinata seemed to have.

After his shift finally ended, Suga was glad to get back to his small apartment. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was enough for him. There were some unpacked boxes still in one corner of the apartment that he had neglected the entire week in favour of exploring the city. He wasn’t big on decorating except for a string of fairy lights and a big houseplant his best friend gave him when he moved away.

The one thing he was thankful for in his small apartment was his bathtub. Even though it wasn’t exactly the biggest bathtub he had ever seen, he was very fond of it. It was the perfect size for him, even though he had to bend his knees to comfortably have his shoulders underwater. He loved taking hot baths after a long day, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of the day, getting lost in his thoughts with nothing but two candles illuminating his small bathroom. Today was no different. As he sank into the mixture of bubbles and warm water, he let his mind wander, phone on silent. He mentally planned out the next week because that was when his classes would officially be starting. He made a mental note of all the things he still needed to do before bed as he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the bath engulf him. Subconsciously, his mind wandered back to that man from the Starbucks this morning. What was his name again? Sam… Something. No, Sawamura, that was it. He couldn’t help but remember how handsome he looked, even though he seemed to be having the hangover of his life. Suga wondered what he would look like with a good night’s rest and maybe if he wasn’t that grumpy or stressed out. Sighing, he tried to push the image of the handsome stranger out of his mind. He was done falling for people and getting into relationships for now anyways, especially with what happened with his ex… He left him with a broken heart and trust issues, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go through that kind of pain again anytime soon.

God, you’re so pathetic , Suga thought to himself. Are you really planning your future with some guy? Just because he’s handsome and mysterious and most definitely out of your league? And most probably painfully heterosexual… Get a grip on yourself.

He sighed and opened his eyes, pulling himself out of the bathtub, drying himself off, and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day, mainly because he had no idea what to expect from his new University, especially how the people were going to be.

He fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow, content he could finally fall into a dreamless slumber.

…

Suga woke up with a start, confused as to why his alarm rang even though it was still dark out. When he looked at his phone, he realised that it was not his alarm but, in fact, his best friend trying to FaceTime him. Sighing, he accepted the call.

“Asahi, what do you want? It’s almost one a.m.” Suga groaned, rubbing his face.

“Oh no did I wake you? Sorry! But also I’m not sorry because you promised we’d call today! Didn’t think you’d forget..” Asahi said on the other side of the phone and Suga mentally slapped himself.

“Right, sorry… I forgot… Today was a lot and I just got settled at work and… Ugh… I’m sorry. But I’m here now! How was your day?” Suga asked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“No worries! Just wanted to check in to see if you were still alive. My day was alright, I’m getting ready for tomorrow and I’m kinda nervous.” Suga could tell that Asahi was more than “a bit nervous” so he sat up in bed, facing the camera in earnest.

“You’ll do great! Uni is hard but it’s important to remember that every single first-year goes through the same! I promise it’ll be alright!” Asahi only frowned in response to his encouragement, clearly skeptical.

“But you have it so easy, Suga. It’s so difficult for me to talk to new people.” Asahi all but pouted. Suga sighed.

“Yeah I know, but I promise you a lot of people are the same, and you being like that hasn’t stopped us from being friends, right?” Suga prompted, smiling at the camera.

“Yes, but we were neighbours. Also, we’ve been friends since we were 5. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Asahi smiled and Suga just shook his head.

“You’re so stubborn. You’ll be fine! You can always text me if you get anxious but please try and at least talk to one person. Can you do that for me?” Suga asked and he could see Asahi calm down the more they talked.

“Yes, I’ll try. Alright, tell me about your day!” Asahi said excitedly, leaning his face closer to the camera.

“Oh, it was nice actually! I mean it was exhausting but my colleagues are super nice! One of them would get along really well with Noya actually, he has so much energy and is so positive, they’d be the best of friends in no time.” Asahi’s face smiled sadly at the mention of his boyfriend. They’ve been long-distance for four months and Suga knew how much his best friend missed him.

“But yeah the other people are really kind as well. Remember that shy boy that was working when I had my interview? Turns out he is actually a badass behind the counter and he could shit-talk for days.” Suga laughed at that, knowing that Asahi disapproves of anything that has to do with making fun of others.

“I’m glad that your coworkers are nice!! I miss hanging out with you” Asahi said, his face pulled into a frown yet again.

“I do too. But hey I’ll be coming back for a weekend soon and we’ll be able to hang out together!” Suga prompted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Yes, that’s true. Alright, you look tired, you should sleep” Asahi said, and Suga agreed. His head felt heavy and his eyes were closing despite his will to keep them open.

“We’ll call tomorrow after your first day’s over! I think I’ll be free after 4 pm so just call me when you have time” Suga sleepily smiled at the camera as they said their goodbyes and he immediately fell back asleep.

He awoke the next morning with his first alarm, something that didn’t happen often. He decided to enjoy the morning then, having more than an hour to get to the subway: he had a strong cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone. After sending Asahi a few memes as was his morning ritual, he ran down the stairs to get to his uni. He had visited it a few times before moving, so he was more confident in finding his way from the subway to the doors of the main building.

#daisuga #daisuga fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my fic #reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

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Jij Verliest - Chapter Three: Clip 7

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Donderdag 17:04

Robbe wasn’t prepared for the sight in the kitchen.

Jonathan was standing at the stove with Milan’s signature floral apron wrapped around his waist. The chef-in-training was dressed in a graphic t-shirt, a pair of joggers, and a stripe of spices across his cheekbone. As Robbe stepped into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks at the unexpected sight, Jonathan raised his head to smile at him.

Robbe glanced around the room and found Milan sitting at the dining room table. His feet were propped up in one of the chairs and his arms crossed. There was an annoyed look on his face, pointed solely at the back of Jonathan’s head. His laptop was propped open but untouched. Robbe glanced between the two before asking, “What’s going on here?”

Milan let out a sigh, leaning further back in his chair. “Jonathan is insisting on cooking tonight and says that he wants to show me how to really cook. But he refuses to let me help or observe.”

“Oh,” Robbe said, turning to Jonathan. The taller man smirked at him. He opened the oven and pulled out a cookie sheet full of french fries to put on the counter. Robbe grabbed a drink from the fridge and turned back to the guys. “Good for him. He knows that it’s his best bet for not getting food poisoning.”

Jonathan snorted.

Milan looked downright offended and a giggle escaped out of Robbe’s mouth. He held a hand over his heart and his jaw dropped. But Robbe could see the corners of his lips turning up in a smile as he glanced at Jonathan. “See, I told you, Robbe is getting feisty again. My reliable baby gay is rising up against me and he’s threatening to overthrow me as the feisty gay in the flatshare.”

“Well,” Jonathan said, turning to look at Milan. “He did learn from the best, didn’t he?”A sheepish grin tugged on Milan’s lips and his cheeks flushed beneath his boyfriend’s gaze.

Robbe smiled at the two of them before heading out of the kitchen. His mama was expecting him to be there soon to help with their weekly dinner. If he didn’t arrive on time, she would take it upon herself to cook without help. Even when he got there, she would still refuse any help until it was done. So he needed to get there as soon as possible. If he didn’t, there was a risk of being hit away with a spatula as he tried to help and his mother refusing to let him.

“Nuh-uh, Robbe, get back in here!” Milan called. Robbe turned back to the kitchen. Jonathan was attempting to feed a fry to Milan, who was trying to fend him off. “Do you want to talk about where—no, Jonathan, I promise that I will eat everything when it’s all ready—where you disappeared off to last night before Thomas showed up?”

All at once, the memory of Sander—the one that Robbe had been thinking about all day and had finally managed to temporarily put out of his mind—came rushing back to him in full force. Their late-night picnic under the stars, the story of the trees on Sander’s tattoo sleeve, the almost-kiss. Just like that, Robbe’s cheeks flushed. He covered his face in an attempt to hide his flush from Milan, but it simply alerted him more and his self-appointed guru gasped loudly.

“Robbe,” Milan said. He got up, marched over, and grabbed Robbe by the shoulders before he could flee into the hallway. Robbe was guided over to the table and forced into the seat before Milan sat in front of him, blocking him from leaving the kitchen. “There are only a handful of people I’ve ever seen cause a reaction like that and one of them was the person you were avoiding. I want details and I want them now.”

Jonathan sent them a fond glance over his shoulder.

“Jonathan,” Robbe started. “Will you control your boyfriend?”

Milan opened his mouth to speak, but Jonathan beat him to it without looking up from the stove. “He will not be tamed.”

“Milan, I’m going to have dinner with my mom—”

“You will as soon as you give me all the details—”

“I don’t even know what to say—”

“Okay,” Milan said, cutting him off again. “Let’s start with something really simple and go from there. Where did you go?”

Robbe glanced at Milan. His roommate and closest confidant sat on the edge of his chair, waiting patiently for him to speak up. Robbe knew from personal experience that he would wait as long as it took. Milan was the type of person who would sit until you were ready to admit something, while simultaneously giving you a little push to do so. It was how Robbe first admitted to him—to anyone, to himself—that he had feelings for a guy, that he wanted to be out with a guy, and everything else Robbe had been too afraid to admit at first.

Robbe swallowed and let out a breath. “I went to meet someone.” There was a pause hanging in the air and Milan raised a skeptical eyebrow. Then, Robbe added, unconvincingly, “A friend.”

“A friend?” Milan repeated.

“Yes,” Robbe said. “A friend.”

“Who is this ‘friend’ of yours? Do I know him?” Milan asked.

“No, you don’t know him,” Robbe said, shaking his head. “At least, not personally. He…” Robbe trailed off, running his hand over his face. “He’s the guy that I told you about. The one who checked on me outside the bar when I spotted Thomas out with someone.”

For a second, Milan blinked at him, confused. It was a heartbeat later that the realization flourished in Milan’s brown eyes and they widened nearly three sizes. “Wait, the hot stranger who gave you a small therapy session outside the bar?” Before Robbe answered, Milan turned to the confused but unconcerned Jonathan and added, “His words, not mine.”

“Yeah,” Robbe said, nodding. “That’s the one.” There was a drawn-out pause between them and he knew that Milan was waiting for more details. “I ran into him at a bar last week and then again at a café. He gave me his card which had his Instagram on it so I started following him. We started talking and we haven’t stopped.”

“Okay,” Milan urged on.

“Anyway, Mama called me yesterday and told me that Thomas called her, looking for me because of that stupid fucking watch. I was pissed so I texted Thomas about it and we fought. After that, I couldn’t focus on my studies so I texted him and we met up in the park.” Without meaning to, a smile formed on Robbe’s lips as he thought of their conversation about the stars and Sander feeding him strawberries and grapes. “And I just forgot, Milan. I totally forgot about Thomas and the watch and my studies.”

Jonathan briefly earned their attention when he let out a hiss. When he realized that the two of them were staring, he said, “I’m sensing there is something else.”

Milan turned back to Robbe. “Is there something else?”

“Yeah, there is,” Robbe whispered. He bit at his lip, avoiding Milan’s inquisitive eye, as he managed to force out, “Before Lucas called me, we almost kissed.”

Milan’s eyes lit up and his smile widened. Even Jonathan glanced up from the stovetop before returning to his work, pretending like he wasn’t listening in on the conversation—not like Robbe minded. There was a look on Milan’s face. “And did you want him to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Robbe breathed out. He covered his face with his hands so he wouldn’t see the look on Milan’s face. Unable to help himself, he repeated, “Yes.” Even with his face covered, he could practically feel the excitement coming off Milan in waves, the bubbling burst of energy that was ready to explode. Before it could, Robbe let out a sigh and asked, “But isn’t it too soon?”

“Huh?”

“Isn’t it too soon to be thinking about someone else?” Robbe repeated. He could hear the sad defeat in his voice and he continued before he could stop himself. “I mean, last week, I was sitting here in the kitchen with you complaining about how Thomas was out with someone. Even though I’m pissed at him and I don’t want to get back with him, I still love him—I still have feelings for him. Shouldn’t I wait until those are gone before I think about kissing another guy?”

“Robbe,” Milan said, reaching out to take his hand. “Relationships—and feelings—are incredibly complicated, especially after a long-term relationship. And it doesn’t help that there is no right way to move on from someone. There isn’t. Some people move on quickly. Some take a while. Some have different responses to different relationships. You can still have lingering feelings for Thomas because he was such an important part of your life. But you can also have feelings for this new friend of yours. It’s entirely possible and that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Robbe asked.

“Yes,” Milan said. “There is only one person in the world who knows when you are ready to move on. And that’s you.” Robbe let out a breath, listening to Jonathan move around and Milan’s voice. “If you feel that you are ready to move on, it is perfectly okay for you to move on. If you want to wait for those feelings to disappear a little more before you start something new, that is perfectly okay too. There is no right or wrong way to move on. There never will be. It’s up to you. You get to control it. Okay?”

Robbe swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Suddenly, Jonathan appeared over Milan’s shoulder. He was no longer wearing the apron and he placed a decently-sized plate of food in front of his boyfriend. Milan blinked down in surprise at the plate before looking up at Jonathan, who loomed over his shoulder. “That’s all the fatherly advice that Robbe can handle for one day. Plus he needs to head to his mama’s house before she starts worrying about him.”

Milan shrugged. “I always saw myself as his rich uncle.”

Jonathan chuckled, kissing the top of his head. “You can be both.”

Robbe chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Since this conversation is officially over, Dads, may I please be excused from the table?”

They both nodded without hesitation and Robbe bolted out of the kitchen before they started to kiss.

As soon as Robbe reached the front door, double-checking his pockets for his wallet and his phone, he heard Zoë call his name. He turned to find his roommate leaving her bedroom at the end of the hall. She moved toward him and glanced briefly in the kitchen. But she quickly averted her eyes and closed the rest of the distance between them. “Do you have a minute to talk before going to see Mama?”

“Yeah, she’s probably already started cooking without me, anyway,” Robbe said. He spotted the nervous look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Zoë said quietly. Her lips turned up in a smile. “I was just thinking about how Senne introduced me to his roommates because they were his family. I wanted to do something similar, but he already knows you and Milan and the girls. So I was thinking…” She trailed off.

Robbe grinned at her. “You want to introduce Senne to Mama?”

After moving out of the flatshare, his relationship with Zoë had only strengthened. Zoë used to always come over to study or simply to get out of Milan’s crazy antics. Zoë had quickly become a signature staple at the IJzermans home in high school. Once his mama heard about how she ended up at the flatshare, she had taken up the mantle to shower Zoë with enough motherly affection to make up for it all.

And Zoë had flourished under it.

Since living in the flatshare in high school, he considered all of them to be family, bound together by shared experiences and living quarters. But after his mother had basically adopted Zoë, it felt like she had actually become his sister. If his mother could sign adoption papers, she would—especially now that Zoë had zero communication with her biological parents. She even introduced Zoë as her daughter sometimes.

“Yes,” Zoë said, hiding her face. Nervously, she opened her fingers to look up at him. “Does that seem weird to you?”

“No, of course not,” Robbe said, chuckling. “She’s practically your mama too. I’m not surprised that you want to introduce your boyfriend to her.”

Zoë flushed, hiding her face again. “Do you think she would mind it?”

“No,” Robbe said. “If anything, she might be worried about meeting him on a bad day. But she’s always been eager to meet my boyfriends. If you wanted, you can always ask her yourself and try to figure out what might be a good day for the two of you.”

Zoë smiled, biting down on her lip for a fraction of a second. Robbe could see the gears turning in her head. Then, she nodded, before moving toward her room. “Okay, let me just go change into some shorts real quick.” Robbe nodded, quickly texting his mother to let her know that Zoë was joining them.

#brenna writes #jij verliest fic #wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfiction #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #rosander #wtfock fanfic #wtf fanfic #twitch streamer robbe #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander #milan hendrickx #oc: jonathan #milan finds a cute boy (who can cook)#zoë loockx #zoë and robbe being siblings

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pastelpinkcheeks · 3 years

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Tolkien Secret Santa 2020!!!

Here’s my gift for the 2020 exchange! Happy holiday to y’all ( @officialtolkiensecretsanta ) and a fantastic New Year ! This was written for @stormwarnings uwu I hope you find it cute and funny and that there aren’t many typos on it... I am really bad with the typos. Anyways. Have fun!

Title: In which Thorin learns about Hobbit Christmas

Rating: G

Summary: Decorations up in mid-November, a pantry filled to the brim with food and declaring war on your cousin because of presents? It's the Christmas holiday at the Shire and Thorin wants to know all about it.

Read it under the cut or at AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287660

The hobbits had this thing called Christmas and Thorin was just discovering how much of a big deal it was. Oh, he wasn’t an ignorant old dwarf, thank you very much, he had some idea of what this Christmas holiday was supposed to be. There were feasts, and celebration, and presents, very similar to the dwarven traditions of Yuletide.

All in all, probably not that much of a big deal. Just harmless winter time fun!

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

It was the middle of November. Thorin was happily bouncing young Frodo on his knee and reading him a children’s story. Only five months since he decided to move into the Shire with his dear Bilbo and Frodo already adored him. The young man was nothing but a toddler, but Thorin was terribly blessed at how quickly he managed to charm Bilbo’s nephew. Young hobbits weren’t always fond of his rugged looks, and his beard was always raising suspicion around the Shire. Fortunately to him, Thorin was amazing at making different voices for the characters.

“…and then they lived happily ever after.” Thorin finished the book, making the three-year-old clap his little hands in a mismatched rhythm.

That was when Bilbo dropped a heavy box by his feet, startling both dwarf and hobbit. “Good, you’re done! Frodo, darling, guess what we’ll be doing today?!”

The young toddler stared at him with wide eyes. “Dunno?”

Bilbo smiled and opened the cardboard box. “We will be putting on the Christmas decorations!”

Frodo shrieked and hopped of Thorin’s knee, falling to the ground on his chubby knees and palms. He quicky raised back to his feet and dove inside the cardboard box, pawing at all the colored tinsel. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought your Yuletide celebration only happened in the end of December.”

“Yes, Thorin, but we start decorating earlier.” Bilbo said as a matter of fact.

“You start decorating in November, then?” He hummed, wondering why bother decorating before Christmas itself was knocking on their door. Wouldn’t they be tired of the decorations by the end of December, when the holiday was due to happen? He did not mention that, though, because both Frodo and Bilbo were happily scavenging inside the wooden box.

He ought to write that down. Get used to the Shire festivities!

And the Shire was boiling with celebration all over the place. Bilbo was consistently sending Thorin to the market to buy more and more food, and even though Thorin had no problem with eating a lot or stocking up food, their pantry was starting to cranky under the weight of all the stuffed hams, salted pork meat, gigantic pumpkins, pots and more pots of honey, a lot of bottles filled with red wine, dark ale and blonde beer. There were also huge blocks of hard cheese, and small blocks of blue cheese pilled on top of each other. Not to mention the vegetables, that, for all Thorin knew, would be stale by the second week of December.

“It’s just in case one of the in-laws drop by and we have to make a quick feast.” Bilbo ushered him off whenever Thorin complained.

“A feast is never quick, Bilbo.” Thorin frowned. In the paper Bilbo had just gave him, there was a small list of items to buy. “Why do we need an entire mutton?”

“Oh, I don’t know, why do we need it?” He placed his hands on his waist, tapping his overly large foot on the wooden floor. “Because it is Christmas!”

If the cranking pantry was worrying Thorin – Frodo can very much be standing under one of the wooden planks when they inevitably break down from the excessive weight! Have you considered that, Bilbo?! – he had not been prepared to deal with the market in the beginning of the third week of December. Not even the halls of Morgoth, during the first age, had been as crowded with mad creatures as that market. Thorin was blessed with height, otherwise he would have been swallowed by the crowd of fussy hobbits.

Patiently, Thorin stood by and waited. Everyone around him was yelling, leaning on the counters and trying to get their goodies first than the others. Fussy hobbits, Thorin thought with a frown. He could be the arsehole and use his louder, deeper voice that compared to theirs was like thunder, but he wanted so much to be a good lover to Bilbo, and he wanted to charm his family. He couldn’t be that guy who went to the market to yell at other people. He couldn’t be that guy.

So, he waited patiently in line and bought all the goodies Bilbo had beautifully written down on his note. Thorin always loved his calligraphy, how he added little dots on top of his letters that more looked like small crystals.

The other thing he learned was that entire feuds were held over not giving a gift to someone during the Christmas week. Not during Christmas day, no, not that. That was too late for hobbits standards. If you actually cared for friends and family, sending presents had to be done till the Christmas eve otherwise you were as good as declaring war on them.

And Bilbo was considering finally declaring war on his cousin, the dreadful Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Is it worth it?” Thorin asked, fixing the golden tinsel that Frodo had ripped from the top of the entrance door. “What is it about the Christmas spirit again?”

“Oh, don’t you even start.” Bilbo tapped his feet. “Every holiday I give her something good. Something made of silver, or perhaps a new embroidered apron. And guess what? The damned woman will still try to abscond with my silverware.”

“Maybe…” Thorin touched his beard. “Maybe you should give her something extremely valuable. You should humble the woman until she is too ashamed and won’t even try to steal anything.”

“Or perhaps I should give her absolute garbage since she will inadvertently pick something else from this very house!”

And Thorin sat back on the armchair, watching as his lover fussed around the house, trying to select whatever piece of trash he could find lying around the house. Frodo appeared a few minutes later, his child-like voice asking what his uncle was looking for. Thorin bent down and picked him up, setting the young hobbit on his knee. “Your uncle is going on a personal vendetta against his cousin Lobelia.”

“What’s vendetta?” Frodo asked.

“Well… it’s when someone does something bad and you decide to do something bed to them as well.” Thorin frowned. Perhaps he shouldn’t be teaching something like that to young Frodo, and shouldn’t be telling the young kid that his uncle was a mean little bastard when he wanted to. “Actually… why don’t we go wrap up the presents and leave your uncle to his own devices?”

Little Frodo happily nodded and followed Thorin to one of the many rooms inside Bag End. Thorin was sure Frodo had quickly forgotten all about ‘vendetta’ when later that week, during the Christmas, he quickly found out just how good the memory and understanding of a three-year-old could be. When Bilbo was, with an overtly sweet smile, delivering his neatly wrapped present to Lobelia, little Frodo asked:

“Is that the vendetta?” While pointing to the colorful present.

“The what?” Lobelia blanched, frowning at the kid.

Bilbo paled. “Now, where did you learn that word?! Little kids really have a fascinating way of learning, don’t they? Frodo, dear, come, let’s get you another cookie in reward for your excellent vocabulary.” Said Bilbo while hiding the present behind his back and taking Frodo by the hand.

“But what about my gift?!” Lobelia asked, still confused by Frodo’s words but greedily staring at where the package had disappeared.

She would, obviously, receive her package later. Not the collection of old toothpicks Bilbo had smugly wrapped up in a big box, but a bottle of old brandy he received from Lord Elrond himself. Next year, perhaps, he would fool Lobelia and give her what she deserved. But the important part about a vendetta was not letting the victim know about it!

Now… Bilbo asked himself while he quickly wrapped up the bottle, where did Frodo learn that word?! It didn’t take Bilbo two seconds to figure out where he learnt that, or, even better, whom he learned it from.

Despite Thorin going on and ruining Bilbo’s marvelous plan of fooling Lobelia without technically declaring Christmas war on her, he couldn’t stay mad at the big oaf of a dwarf he had brought into his home. Their first Christmas together, and Bilbo was immensely appreciative of how much Thorin was trying to learn Hobbit customs and blend in with Bilbo’s gigantic family and never-ending family drama. He already loved Frodo, which covered the essentials, but seeing Thorin learning some of the Shire Christmas carols really warmed up his heart.

And, boy, did he sing them in dwarven fashion, all low notes and rumbling voice?

It was nearly morning when Bag End was finally clear of family members. Frodo was asleep, had been asleep for hours now, and Bilbo was putting the trash out. Thorin was smoking outside, and the Sun was making the sky shine in different colours. It was now light enough to see without the aid of a lamp.

Bilbo sat down next to Thorin. “How was your first Christmas experience?”

Thorin let out the smoke and tapped the pipe down, removing the burnt leaves. “You hobbits take it very seriously. It was enjoyable.”

“Even after all the times I sent you to the market?”

“Even after the multiple lines I had to stand by.” Thorin nodded and smirked. “Now, were you consciously sending me away? I thought you were too busy that you weren’t even noticing that.”

Bilbo snickered. “I wanted to make sure we had everything in case anyone would drop by earlier than the Eve, but, in honesty… I like it. Having this domesticity between us, being able to send the mighty King of Erebor whenever I wish to buy, I don’t know, carrots and salted pork.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Thorin… this, this thing… it works, doesn’t it? Do you feel like it works? God, am I rambling? Sometimes I get overexcited.”

“It works.” Thorin said, making Bilbo shut up all at once. He leaned down to kiss Bilbo’s curls, the little braids he himself had put there. “I wasn’t sure I could trade rock and stone for sunny meadows and green hills, but it works.”

Bilbo stared at him. From the greying hair at his temples to the sharp tip of his nose. Wow, Bilbo thought, enamored, what a dwarf! He looked around for a second; in the next weeks the Shire would be snowy and wintery, but so far, it was only December. None of them were too fond of snow.

“Next year, maybe, we should go to Erebor. So you can teach me about your holidays.”

“It involves less fussing about unexpected relatives dropping by and more drinking competitions.” Thorin warned.

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “Then you better have some sugar and grease to help me with all that speculative drinking.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

#tss2020 #tolkien secret santa 2020 #bagginshield #the hobbit fanfic #my fanfics #my art #my writing

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pickledbeefwastaken · 3 years

Text

The High School Dance Fic Nobody Asked For - Chapter 3

Also available on AO3

Link to Chapter 1 Link to Chapter 2

Let me know what you want to see happen next! I don’t have much of a direction in terms of plot right now, so I’m open to suggestions.

Klaus was the first to the door, pulling it open for Dave this time, winking at him as he passed through before following. Klaus made a beeline for two seats at the counter, near the end. He had clearly been here before, and from the way that the woman behind the counter greeted him, he’d obviously been here lots of times. Dave took a seat on the stool beside Klaus, resting his hands on the counter in front of him while he looked up at the case of donuts, neatly lined on yellow trays. There was row after row after row of golden donuts dripping with glaze, elaborate twists, maple bars, powdered donuts, sprinkles of every shade, donuts iced in every color. They even looked fresh.

“Hey, Agnes?” Klaus called, summoning the attention of the sweet older woman behind the counter. She wiped her hands on her apron and came to stand in front of them.

“You two look awfully handsome. Are you just coming from the school dance?” She asked kindly, “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you in a dress shirt, Klaus.”

Klaus nodded, shrugging as he plucked at the collar of his white shirt, “The dance was okay. I picked up a stray there,” he said, shooting a teasing smile at Dave, “I think I pull it off, don’t you?”

Klaus straightened his button up shirt a bit, lifting his chin primly for Agnes’s evaluation. She chuckled and nodded.

“Very handsome, kiddo. What’ll it be for you two boys tonight?” She asked, already turning to pick up a set of tongs and some plates.

“I’ll take the usual raspberry and a coffee, please,” Klaus asked politely, turning to look at Dave expectantly.

“Umm, just a plain glaze, please, thank you,” He requested, knowing he’d never sleep if he got a coffee, “Could I also get an orange juice?”

“Sure thing, sweetie. Coming right up,” Agnes replied, going about getting them their orders.

“You would be a plain glaze kind of guy,” Klaus said, drawing Dave’s attention away from the case of glistening donuts.

Dave could see the glint in Klaus’s eyes—something teasing and challenging, like he was daring him to defend his basic choice. He just smiled, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms against the countertop.

“And you would be the type to order the messiest donut in existence.”

Klaus snorted, “Touché. You know me too well, Davey.”

Dave didn’t though—he wanted to, absolutely he wanted to know everything there was to know about Klaus, but there was generally such a wall around him that it was hard to know anything for sure. He had his assumptions and guesses, but that’s all they felt like—guesses. Klaus was unpredictable. He wouldn’t be surprised if Klaus surprised him even on the points that Dave was most sure about. Klaus was contradiction and mystery, but he was also distance and guardedness. He had flawless defenses built up around him, sometimes sarcasm, sometimes humor, sometimes ferocity, sometimes he’d make it look like he’d dropped his defenses and you’d be met with the brunt of his undivided attention which was wholly intimidating. He was a master of diversion and deflection and even when Dave thought he saw something real, it wasn’t sure if it was real or pretend.

Agnes came with his donuts then, setting them down before turning to pick up the drinks and bring those over as well. It’d broke a moment he hadn’t realized he’d been lost in, staring at Klaus like he was trying to puzzle him out, Klaus looking right back with an almost smug expression—something that taunted Dave into wanting more while telling him, “good luck finding what you’re looking for”. He glanced at his donut and took a sip of his orange juice while Klaus wasted no time digging right into his food. He picked up the powdered donut with both hands and tore it in half, nearly spilling the raspberry filling everywhere. Dave watched in near horror at how messy and chaotic watching Klaus eat was. By the time he’d taken just one bite, he had powdered sugar on every finger, his lower lip, and the tip of his nose and managed to get raspberry jelly running down his pinky.

He tried not to stare, picking up his donut like a sane person, between just two fingers to minimize stickiness, and took a careful bite. Klaus though, he ate his food with no shame whatsoever, humming at the taste and licking up the side of his hand, which made Dave blush watching that pink tongue run across his skin.

“You have a little something on your nose,” He commented, lips curling into a fond smile that he had absolutely no chance in Hell of fighting.

Klaus smiled too, not even a little bit sheepish. He turned in his seat to face Dave a little more, lifting his chin as he swallowed. Dave watched his Adam’s apple bob down the column of his throat and dragged his eyes back up to Klaus’s face. “Gonna get it for me?” He asked, eyes fixed on Dave’s. He knew what he was doing.

Dave rolled his eyes playfully and reached over, holding Klaus’s face still with fingertips against his cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth across the tip of his nose to brush the dust away, but before he could pull his hand away, Klaus tipped his head up a bit more, tongue peeking out to drag up the pad of Dave’s thumb. Dave’s breath caught audibly and he clacked his mouth shut, freezing as he looked at Klaus with wide eyes, cheeks quickly growing redder and redder. He looked worried around the donut shop, wondering if anyone else had seen that, but Agnes had gone to the back and they were the only customers around. While Dave’s head was turned, Klaus had taken full advantage and closed his lips around Dave’s thumb.

Dave’s eyes shot back to Klaus and oh God, that was an image he was not going to forget anytime soon—the full heat of Klaus’s green eyes staring right back at him with his pink lips on Dave’s thumb. Dave’s breath left him like he’d been punched in the gut, staring back at Klaus with wide eyes as he bit down on his lip. Klaus ran his tongue just once against the pad of Dave’s thumb before pulling his head back, releasing him, looking at him with a sly, shit-eating grin.

“Thanks, Davey,” He said innocently, turning to take a sip of his coffee.

Dave was certain he was blushing up to his hairline, stomach flip-flopping and heart beating hard in his chest. Agnes returned then and Dave quickly lifted his orange juice to take a gulp, more so he had something to hide behind, doing a much worse job than Klaus at playing it cool. He felt inexplicably guilty and exhilarated, like he’d just gotten away with robbing the place right under Agnes’s nose.

Klaus reached over to put a hand on Dave’s knee, probably to remind him to play it cool, to calm down, that they were okay, but he hadn’t been expecting it and he was still very keyed up from a moment before and he ended up choking on his orange juice a little. He sputtered, setting his cup down and lifting a napkin to his mouth as he turned away from Klaus and coughed hard enough to make his eyes water. He could hear Klaus laughing behind him, bright and effervescent as he rubbed Dave’s back apologetically.

“Oh dearest, you alright? I’ll get you some water,” Agnes said, hurrying back to the sink. Dave turned and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, glaring playfully at Klaus who was grinning from ear to ear, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat. He was obviously pretty pleased with himself.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” Dave said lowly, just before Agnes returned with a glass for him.

Dave thanked her, voice a little rough before taking a few sips to soothe his throat.

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” Klaus sing-songed beside him, an obvious warning that any retaliation on Dave’s part would begin an all out war.

Dave fought a smile—He would so absolutely lose whatever this war was—trying to make the other blush? Flirting? He wasn’t sure exactly, but he didn’t care. Whatever it was, he wanted to play. The thought of having Klaus teasing him, trying to get him to turn red, was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. He would be embarrassed as all Hell, sure, but it was so worth it.

He pulled out his wallet and put some cash on the counter before finishing his glass of water, clearing his throat. Klaus meanwhile, was wiping his hands clean on a napkin, taking another gulp of coffee. They both got up at the same time, clearly on the same page about it being time to go.

“Thank you, Agnes!” Klaus called, waving goodbye to the woman. Dave waved politely as well, holding the door for Klaus this time as they stepped out into the cool night air.

Dave was breathless, from Klaus's little move in the donut shop, sure, but also from the cumulation of the entire evening. Everything from Klaus talking to him near the punchbowl to now felt like a fever dream, something that might disappear if he blinked. There was a very real part of him that was afraid he'd wake up at any moment and all of this would be gone. He looked at Klaus, who was already looking at Dave with a pensive expression.

"You look troubled," Dave commented, reaching out to poke the wrinkles between Klaus's eyebrows in an attempt to loosen them up.

Klaus huffed indignantly but his lips with tilting up at the corners, "Just lost in thought, that's all."

Dave nodded, continuing to walk beside Klaus back toward the truck at a slow pace, "You gonna share with the class?"

Klaus drew his gaze away then, looking at the ground a few feet in front of them, pursing his lips as if considering whether or not he was going to let Dave in on whatever was going on in his head. Dave watched, glancing back to the sidewalk ahead of them periodically to ensure he didn't trip over something or drift off the curb, but otherwise kept his eyes expectantly on Klaus's profile. Eventually, it seemed like Klaus came to a decision because he stopped walking and turned to face Dave entirely. Dave stopped too, mirroring his position.

"I like you, Dave. And it's weird, I don't usually like people—not like this," Klaus stated decisively, pausing with his mouth open like he was going to continue, but clicking it shut soon after, deciding against it.

Dave could feel his heart begin beating faster in his chest. He was pretty sure his palms were sweating too. He looked back at Klaus, feeling exposed and vulnerable as Klaus awaited Dave's response. He wasn't sure how Klaus kept such a composure about him when for Dave, the admission felt like it had wrapped around his heart and pulled. His nerves were awake and all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He swallowed hard, not knowing what kind of raw, vulnerable expression was on his face, but he was hopeless to try to shape it into anything else.

"I really like you too, Klaus." Dave said, voice soft and honest.

Klaus's lip quirked up a little, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. A lot. I have for awhile now."

Klaus moved then, stepping in closer, right into Dave's space so they were nearly chest to chest. He brought his arms up to wrap around his neck, much like they were arranged back at the dance when the slow song had played. He looked directly into Dave's eyes and the power of Klaus's attention on him made him feel like he was growing and shrinking at the same time. He brought his hands to Klaus's waist, sliding them around him securely, pressing his palms to Klaus's back.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Klaus announced, voice quiet as his eyes softened and fell to Dave's mouth.

Dave unconsciously licked his lips, leaning his head forward to press their foreheads together, smiling a little. His heart was full out sprinting in his chest now.

"You'd really make my night if you did," He responded in a whisper, lip quirking up.

That was all the permission either of them needed and they both moved in at the same time, noses sliding past each other before their lips made contact. His heart studdered in his chest and a rush of butterflies fluttered through his stomach and he sighed softly against Klaus's plush lips, kissing him again, capturing his top lip between his own. Klaus shivered against him and Dave smiled against his lips, breaking the kiss after another few seconds.

"You're good at that," Klaus commented breathlessly, face breaking into a wide smile as he rested his forehead back on Dave's.

"Yeah?" Dave asked in surprise, gaze falling sheepishly away from Klaus's, "I'm glad, I don't exactly have a lot of practice to draw from."

Klaus laughed softly and hugged him tighter, "I'd never know. It was probably my favorite first kiss ever," he said, nudging Dave's nose gently with his own, trying to get him to look up again.

Dave complied, bringing his gaze back to Klaus who smiled again, "You're cheeks are awfully pink. I'm definitely winning," he commented, expression going teasing and coy.

Dave laughed, not expecting that comment. He narrowed his eyes competitively and brushed a hand down Klaus's back to rest on his hip, thumb brushing the bare skin between his shirt and his pants. Klaus bit his lip in response.

"Not for long," Dave warned, to which Klaus laughed, wiggling out of Dave's grip.

"You'll have to catch me first!" He called, already running down the sidewalk.

Oh, it was on.

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #klave #klave fic #klaus hargreeves #klaus x dave #dave katz #Umbrella Academy

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 1 of the food of love is here!

{kristanna / t /modern au / humor and fluff / pride & prejudice inspired}

Legendary food critic Hayden West is known for their scathing reviews of restaurants and wickedly sharp wit. Restaurant owners tremble at the thought of the day the mysterious reviewer will walk through their doors-- never suspecting that Hayden West is, in fact, the redheaded woman with a sketchbook eating a quiet meal alone.

It's an easy enough job for Anna, and she's got her routine down pat, especially with the help of her assistant, Olaf.

And then comes the day she walks into Kristoff Bjorgman's restaurant-- and gets much, much more than she bargained for.

Pencil-- check.

Sketchbook-- check.

Phone, wallet, and keys-- check.

Anna took one last glance at herself in the mirror, smoothing down the navy skirt of her nondescript dress. Her hair, that couldn’t be helped; a wig would stand out even more than the fiery shade of auburn, but she’d pulled it up into a ponytail to keep it mostly out of sight. Simple makeup, plain unbranded shoes-- she appeared entirely unremarkable.

Perfect.

She hummed to herself a little as she locked her apartment and headed towards the stairs. This week’s assignment was easy enough; some new little bistro on the edge of an area that was trendy five years ago.

She liked the little, unfussy places. It was easier to hide when no one cared if she lingered with her sketchbook, easier to see what she was looking for at places where you could hear what was happening in the kitchen while still watching the manager wander around trying to figure out who Hayden West was.

The only clue they ever got was the day Hayden would be there; no photos existed of the mysterious restaurant critic, no matter how many times their scathing reviews went viral. “The Gordon Ramsay of newspaper critics,” that was what the Times had called Hayden after a withering review of a seafood place had garnered a hundred thousand retweets for its description of particularly horrible crab cakes that “deserved neither to be called crab nor cake but perhaps a vaguely saltwater scented cement patty that should be patented and marketed as an instantaneously effective weight loss supplement.”

Anna had been particularly proud of that one. It was a rare day when the food was actually bad enough to warrant such a review on its own; the fact that the manager had gotten into a screaming match that reduced a sixteen year old waitress to tears was simply motivation to hold absolutely nothing back.

She wondered, sometimes, what people would think if they knew the truth: that in fact Hayden had never existed at all and was in fact a twenty-four-year-old woman who’d unexpectedly been promoted into the gig after the man she’d been interning under was unceremoniously given the boot for drunkenly relieving himself on the editor’s lawn, where he had gotten caught by a ferocious Maltese.

The restaurant, thankfully, was only a few blocks away; her car was in desperate need of a replacement everything, but she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it, not when it’d seen her through thick and thin for nearly ten years, from her sixteenth birthday to her college move-ins to her hour long commute to the Tribune’s office for her barely-more-than-unpaid internship.

It came to a creaky halt in front of the restaurant at ten to noon; she’d have just enough time to get seated without having to wait, but she’d bear witness to the midday lunch rush and its aftermath. The place wasn’t much to look at, though she could tell by the small garden out front and the stenciled outlines on the white-painted brick wall that it wasn’t for lack of effort. It had opened only a month ago, the latest in a long line of valiant attempts to put something interesting on this block. If she remembered correctly, six months ago this space had been a design-your-own-lasagna place (wonderful idea, but impossible to execute efficiently); before that, there had been a sugar-free bakery that had been run out of business in two weeks when it was discovered that the only sugar-free thing it sold was bottled water; and even before that, it had been, like most places that were cursed with a constant “for lease” sign, a Jenny Craig.

And now it was just BB’s, a name that was so simple it made her worry that this venture would fail like all its predecessors, especially considering its lack of marketing and online presence; she’d had to send her intern to do some scouting for her to even get her hands on a menu in advance.

“This place is great, boss,” Olaf had said through a mouthful of food as he’d called her on his way back to the office. “They’ve even got cheesecake.”

“With--”

“Chocolate sauce, yeah, yeah, I know how you are. I got the menu for you and had the cute waiter circle all his recommendations, and that was top of the list. Well, not literally top, the desserts are all at the--”

“I knew what you meant, Olaf,” she’d said as she rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And thanks.”

Now, Anna found herself hoping he had been right about this place when she pushed the door open, bells jingling overhead; it had been far too long since she’d gotten the chance to write an enthusiastic endorsement of a place that really deserved it. To her surprise, only one other table was taken by two men, one broad-shouldered and blond, the other dark-haired and sporting a wide smile the second he laid eyes on her.

“Hi!” he said brightly, leaping to his feet and wiping his hands on his apron. “Welcome to BB’s! Table for one?”

“Yes, please,” she said, returning his smile after a moment’s confusion; if the place was as good as Olaf had said, why was it this desolate on a Saturday at lunchtime?

“I’m Ryder, and I’ll be taking care of you today,” the waiter said, pulling a chair out for her at a table next to the window. “Let me grab you a menu, okay?”

“Thanks,” Anna said, her focus instead on the other man as he rose to his feet and ambled over to the door that led to the kitchen. He was even taller-- and broader, Jesus but those shoulders-- than she’d realized at first.

This place must have been an old-fashioned diner once upon a time, judging by the window to the kitchen through which she could still see him. He was handsome, she supposed, if you liked men with strong jaws and broad noses and floppy golden hair.

And brown eyes, she thought, her cheeks turning bright red as he looked up and caught her staring. She jerked her attention away just as Ryder said cheerfully “Here you go!” as he put a laminated menu on the table in front of her. “The soup of the day is minestrone. What would you like to drink?”

“Water, please, and a coffee,” she said, still trying to cover her embarrassment.

“I’ll brew some fresh for you and be right back,” he said, that broad grin still plastered to his face as he bustled back to the kitchen.

Anna fidgeted a little in her seat as she pulled out her sketchbook. The whole point of her job was going unnoticed, but if she was the only customer in the restaurant today-- shit, this could blow her whole cover, considering each restaurant knew in advance that Hayden was coming that day.

For now, though, she had to worry about her notes, and so she began to sketch the interior of the restaurant in the notepad. She was no great artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the best way she’d found to remember her thoughts and impressions of a restaurant without having to worry about prying eyes reading over her shoulder. With each detail she drew, she thought of something specific-- friendly waiter as she scribbled the outline of the door, not busy, why? for the back of a chair, clean, good health rating posted for the box of the kitchen window.

And the menu-- she glanced over it as she doodled it. Simple, Italian-American fare; judging by the names-- Cliff’s Favorite, a deep-dish pizza with meatballs, and Ronnie’s Ravioli-- these were family recipes. She couldn’t help but wonder about what the chef’s family was like as she dared to steal another peek at him. He was working on prepping something, his forehead furrowed in concentration, and if she noticed the way his shoulders strained against his white t-shirt as he did so...well, so long as he didn’t catch her looking again, what did it matter?

The bells over the door jingled, startling her, and she turned to see a chattering group of six friends come in. A feeling of relief washed over her; she hated to see places like this go under fast.

Ryder set her coffee down in front of her, winking as he dropped a couple of creamers beside it, before scurrying over to seat the newcomers. She took a sip as her phone buzzed with a text from Olaf.

how is it?

Good so far. Decent coffee. Not many people here, though, can you send some friends?

aye aye, captain. i’ll remind them to do a better job of pretending not to recognize you this time lol

God, it was hard to remember how she’d used to do this without him. When Hans had first been fired and she’d been unceremoniously promoted into his newly vacant position, she’d spent the first few weeks scrambling to find a restaurant that actually deserved the sort of bad review Hayden West was known for. Hans, of course, had never had such scruples, but it felt wrong to Anna to make a mockery of a place and risk running it out of business when it was run by perfectly nice people, even if they did have a watery hollandaise. She’d used to rely on word of mouth and her own scouting expeditions to try and find places that really deserved it, but it wasn’t until she’d found the place with the shitty crab cakes that she’d finally found a manager who was a big enough asshole to deserve every bad review the place got.

The problem, though, was that when the review had gone viral, it had spelled a complete shutdown for the restaurant. After spending two sleepless nights worrying about the impact it’d have on the rest of the staff, Anna had gone for a second visit-- this time ordering a simple salad that still managed to be disgusting-- and pulled one of the waiters aside, asking about the plans the rests of the staff had for a next job.

And, because that had been her lucky day, the waiter had been Olaf, and he’d been just as enthusiastic as she was about helping connect the rest of the staff with new places more than willing to hire them on-- and he didn’t ask any questions about why, exactly, she cared so much. But when Anna had asked what Olaf himself was looking for as a next step, he’d blushed and admitted, “Honestly, I’m on a break from college right now. Journalism major-- not sure if it’s worth finishing, you know?”

Anna had confessed then for the very first time that she was, in fact, the legendary Hayden West-- or at least his successor-- expecting him to react with shock and, if she was being honest, a bit of awe, but instead Olaf had burst into laughter.

“Obviously,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I saw the way you were looking around the place and heard the questions you were asking. Secret’s safe with me, though.”

She’d called her boss the same day asking to bring him on as a paid intern, and neither of them had looked back since. Olaf had a knack for finding disgruntled waitstaff in the Tri-State area complaining on Twitter and Reddit about their shitty bosses, then following up with them after Hayden’s reviews were published to make sure that they and their coworkers had a better place to work, either because their managers had seen the light or because they had moved on to greener pastures.

One of the tricks they’d developed together was sending in decoys if Anna was ever worried about getting caught. Olaf had a whole network of friends who were more than willing to show up to restaurants at a moment’s notice and eat a meal on the Tribune’s dime.

Today, though, she needed a certain pair of them to make sure this went smoothly.

Send the two improv kids, she texted back. They’ve got their work cut out for them-- this place is deserted. They have to act extra Hayden-y.

Olaf replied with only a thumbs-up emoji. Anna sighed and sat back in her seat, and a moment later Ryder appeared by her side. “Ready to order?” he asked, wearing another bright smile.

Extra attentive-- she’d add that to the sketch later. “Yeah,” she said, skimming the menu quickly again. Honestly, so far, this place hit every mark of a restaurant worth one of Hayden’s really positive reviews, which, thanks to the column’s usual reputation, went even more viral than the venomous ones-- not every day that a renowned cynic actually liked something.

There was just one more test, the one that elevated a good place to a great one, great enough that she’d come back to on her own time and money and bring her sister along for the ride.

“I’ll just have the spaghetti, please,” she said with her sunniest smile.

Ryder nodded and turned away, whistling to himself, and she glanced up at the clock over his head.

Five minutes and counting, she thought. Fingers crossed this goes the way I want.

---

a/n: THANK YOU to molly, laura, and melissa for helping me brainstorm and plan this one out!!extra thanks to molly and to johanna for helping me with some of the restaurant stuff, to ronnie for helping me decide what kind of restaurant kristoff would have, and as always, to creative director gabi :')

#kristanna #my fics #p&p&p

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moltenhair · 4 years

Text

Since I’d gotten a few asks asking about my continuation of the story.... I wrote a little more. I combined ideas for 2 different things into one long addition. Taking place after they get the Captain of the Guard back from Terapi Island and exploring more of the backstory I gave him and Cass.

Also I gave him a name.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Memories

Corona… A sickening saccharine symbol of corruption and greed. Where the every-man is tricked into believing their king cares for their needs and wants what is best for them. Where they are forced to love their ruler or face the consequences. Where anyone who dares shine a light on that ruler’s misdeeds is vilified and cast out.

Cassandra had seen it before. Seen it and stood by to let it happen. She’d been a part of the problem as much as anyone, hadn’t she? She had defended the beliefs of their king, had charged into battle in his name. Never realizing then how the system that cared so little for her had been exploiting her for its own gain.

She stood at the forest’s edge, looking out over those vibrant hills to where the castle towers stood proud against the sky. Those towers she once called home… And she would again soon. Once she cleared out all of the obsolete leaders and established a new order. One where people like herself could finally thrive.

But first…. She had a stop to make.

“Captain, I know this must be hard for you… Coming back without Cass..” Princess Rapunzel put a hand on the man’s shoulder as their balloon carried them across the sky and away from Terapi Island. The world beneath them peaceful despite what has happened. Blissfully unaware of the rising darkness. “But we’ll figure this out. We’ll stop Cass before anything else bad can happen. We’ll talk some sense into her-”

“Cassandra has never been the ‘do as she’s told’ type.” The captain spoke at last. His first words for the entire journey back to Corona. And he said them with a sorrowful laugh as he recalled his child. The fondness of a father in his eyes. “Even when I first found her she was a fighter.”

Rapunzel pulled back her hand slowly, glancing over to Eugene with a shared knowing look. This was the first time anyone had ever spoken of the day Cassandra was adopted. There had always been some understanding that they didn’t need to know.. It never mattered where she came from.. Until now, at least.

“I always assumed Cass got that from you.” Eugene moved to the Captain’s other side, leaning on the edge of the balloon’s basket. “No offense, but you seem like a dad with a lot of rules.”

The captain laughed brighter, looking sidelong at the former thief, “Haha- No, no. Cassandra was always a brave girl.. I just taught her to be brave for the right reasons. Why, when I first met her, I was amazed at the strength this sweet, little thing was hiding.”

A smile curled Rapunzel’s lip as she watched the Captain talk about his daughter. Her best friend before all this happened. It was a side of Cass’ life that the Princess had never gotten to know in the past. It wasn’t Cassandra’s style to reminisce like this. In fact, there were few things Rapunzel knew about her childhood at all.

“Captain.” She began, putting her petite hand over his as she smiled warmly up at him. “Would you… tell us that story?”

There was a pause, a thoughtful silence that hung in the air like their balloon. The Captain of the Guard hummed, his eyes locked on the horizon in contemplation… But soon enough he looked at the Princess and returned her smile.

“I’d be happy to.”

It was a dark and stormy night. Weren’t they always when something bad was doomed to happen to an innocent person? Lightning flashed and thunder boomed in the skies of Corona. Rain fell heavily on rooftops, cooling them from the harsh beating of the summer sun just hours before. Out in the streets bakers stowed their bread carts and women ran with their aprons held over their heads to keep themselves dry. But in short time the stone roads were empty.

The rain had a way of lulling Corona to sleep. The kingdom always seemed to fall with the sun. Soon enough the citizens were tucked in their beds to the rattling lullaby of the rain. All except the royal guards of course… And one curly haired little girl.

Cassandra stood tip-toed on her mattress, fingers curled around the high windowsill to pull herself over it. Her olive green eyes peeked out through the rain spattered glass at the kingdom beyond. At the castle she could always see from the orphanage windows. She wondered if everyone in the kingdom could see it from their houses or if she was just one of the lucky ones.

Beyond the rain and fog, Cassandra could see familiar armored shapes. A recognizable crest of a helmet she’d seen almost every day since she was brought to this place. A Guard on Patrol. It was raining cats and dogs but he was still out doing his job. The guards must have been really good people. They protected Corona even if it meant they had to get wet. Cassandra was only five and a quarter , but she already knew… She wanted to be just like them when she was big.

There was something else familiar about those Uniforms, too… Something she felt like she should remember but couldn’t.

The little girl let go of the window and dropped backward onto her bed to sit atop the covers. Around her the sparse other children slept comfortably. Dreaming of the parents they someday hoped to have. Or maybe of the parents they once had. In the next room, the director of the orphanage had drifted off, embracing a bottle of ‘mead’. Cassandra didn’t know what mead was, but she figured it was something that made grownups sleepy. The director drank it only after the children went to sleep. Nothing ever woke her in the middle of the night.

A sudden racket made Cassandra jump with a start. A thumping clatter like wood rattling against wood. The girl hopped up once more to look out the window. She could see that same guard as before but he was moving much faster. Frantic as he spoke to another guard before splitting off to run separately down the dark Corona alleys. But there was no one else in sight.

Then the sound came again. But, if there was no one outside, that sound had to come from inside. Cassandra climbed out of bed slowly and quietly. She reached under her bunk to pull out a wooden sword she’d won from one of the boys in a wrestling match. She held it high the way she’d seen the Guards do as she treaded carefully toward the hallway.

When she rounded the corner, she couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black as far as the eye could see. Which wasn’t very far with all the lanterns out. But there was a flickering of orange fire light from beneath the crack of the door of the director’s room. Cassandra walked toward that light on tip-toe, planning to pass it and go to the kitchen… But then she noticed a shadow crossing that orange light from inside the room. The shape of legs carrying a person back and forth.

Was the director actually still awake? Were they the one making noise?

Cassandra lowered herself to the floor to lay on her belly. With her hands pressed to the old floorboards she did her best to look under the door. What she saw almost made her gasp loudly, but she put a hand over her mouth to silence herself.

There was a stranger in there! A big ugly one. Looking through the director’s things while they slept! Taking her jewelry and coins and putting them in a bag. The child watched in horror as this person- this criminal- uncovered the safe where the director kept all the money she used to take care of the children.

He was gonna take the money for the kids!

Not on Cassandra’s watch, he wasn’t.

In moments she was back on her feet, sword in hand. She scurried quickly and quietly away and toward the kitchen where she’d originally heard the noise coming from. When she got there, she found the window left wide open, rain pouring in from the outside. Ew, and he’d tracked mud in from outside.

Think, Cassandra, think. What would a Guard do? A guard would keep the bad guy from escaping! The lock on the safe will only keep him busy for so long.

She ran to the window and jumped up to grab it and pull it closed.

As Cassandra climbed down she set her hand in something really GROSS! A bucket of cooking grease the director sometimes used to cook. It made her hands all slippery. Yuck! … Wait a second. She could use this. If only she also had some… string!

In the corner was a roll of thick twine used for preparing roasts. It wasn’t cuffs but it would do in a pinch. And to a child it was as good as rope.

Cassandra gathered her items and hurried back down the hall. She could hear the groaning of the safe’s iron door as this thief managed to finally break into it. All without the director stirring an inch. Not wasting any time, the little girl turned over the grease bucket and let it slop out down the hallway. It was thick and goopy, but it covered enough of the floor that there was no way this crook wasn’t going to step in it. Then, Cassandra took a length of the twine and strung it across the hallway a few inches from the ground. She’d seen the boys in the orphanage trip each other like this all the time. Hopefully it also worked on grown ups.

When the door began to open Cassandra ran behind it and hid against the wall. She held her breath as this larger person came into view, carrying a sack of things that didn’t belong to him. He didn’t even consider looking down at where she hid. He probably didn’t think anyone was awake. And why would he worry about a KID catching him?

He was about to learn to be worried.

Outside, the guards were searching the alleys high and low. They’d spotted him. A serial robber who had robbed five families in a week. Taken everything of value they owned in the dead of night. But he’d vanished from under their noses somehow.

Dammit!

Was this how the new Captain of the Guard was to be known? As the man who took over and couldn’t even catch a common thief? He was better than this… But he needed to prove that as the new captain he would take care of the people’s best interests while also fulfilling the will of his king. He inherited this position after a great tragedy. His first year as captain had been nothing but struggles.

Captain Roland wiped the rain from his face as he glowered through the fog. His crossbow hung in his hands, relaxed. His boots creaked as he crept quietly behind the businesses and homes of Corona. His eyes, piercing and narrow, flicked high and low.. He was getting closer. He could feel it.

The sole of his boot slipped against the wet stone and he looked down. Muddy footprints. Headed down a second alley and behind the orphanage. He followed the steps and found they led to a window. Shut. But he could see the mud trail ended inside.

Gods… No. Roland shuddered to think about a criminal breaking into a building full of children. Children who had already lost so much.

The Captain tried to yank the window open to pursue the criminal inside. But it must have latched when it was shut. It wouldn’t budge. And the captain wasn’t about to break the window of an orphanage.

Instead he ran as fast as he could around to the front door. He took the handle in his hands and pulled. Locked. Of course it was. He rattled the door, he hammered his fist against the hard wood.

“Open up! This is the Captain of the Guard!”

There was.. Some kind of sound inside. Then the smallest of footsteps drawing near to the door. He raised his crossbow as he heard the lock click. He was prepared for anything when that door opened… Everything but a curly haired little girl. She was smiling up at him so brightly. His crossbow lowered immediately as he glanced around. There was no one else, just this child.

“You’re finally here!” she grinned, bouncing on her little legs before grabbing him by the hand to pull him inside. “C’mon, c’mon!”

Roland followed, hunched over with his hand in hers. He looked about as this child led him towards a back hallway. Nothing looked damaged. He could see children peeking out of their bedrooms, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Woken up by whatever had happened. Same as the director who seemed far less coherent. And then… the Captain found his criminal.

Laid out on the floor, feet tied together. He was covered in what looked like… lard. And it appeared that he’d slipped in it quite a bit while trying to make his get away. Beside him his bag of stolen goods was spilled across the floor. Everything that was taken from the Orphanage and more. The man himself… was unconscious. Out cold from what looked like a blow to the head from a wooden toy sword. He was going to have a bump, but he’d be fine.

“I made sure he didn’t get away. All by myself!” The little girl proudly boasted before moving around the Captain to push on his legs from behind. Urging him on, “Now you can arrest him!”

Roland was… impressed! He’d never seen a child stand up to a criminal like this and come out unscathed. It would have been so much easier for her to hide and wait for an adult to show up. The Captain would have shown up regardless… But it might have been too late if she hadn’t acted like she did.

“You did very well, little one.” He praised, kneeling down and putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And you’re not hurt?”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, her mess of dark curls bouncing.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. This was one special kid.

“You acted very bravely tonight.. What’s your name?”

“Cassandra.”

The corner’s of Roland’s eyes wrinkled as he warmly smiled down at her. He held out a hand to the child. Her small hand landed in his, gripping his fingers tightly as they shook hands.

“Thank you for your help... Cassandra.”

Rubble.

All that remained was rubble.

No one had even come to claim the land in the twenty years since Cassandra and her Mother left it. It wasn’t rich enough soil, or a big enough plot for anyone to want it. They hadn’t even bothered to clean up the mess.

Fractions of walls remained of what once was a farmhouse. Cass’ farmhouse. The home she had forgotten. The home she knew before her mother was given no choice but to leave her at an orphanage. In the hopes that someone, anyone, would find her and be able to afford to give the child a better life. A happier life.

Where her mother went after that… Cass wasn’t sure she’d ever know.

But someone had found her, just like Mother planned, hadn’t they? At least one of their dreams came true.

Cass could vividly remember each visit he made to get to know her. She remembered the moment he walked back through those doors to tell her she was going to be living with him from now on. At the moment she never wanted anything more in her whole life… Because she’d made herself forget the life she’d had before… She never even realized she was adopted by the newest leader of the guards that chose their king’s orders over her mother… The people responsible for the way her life turned out.

Cass scowled and stomped at an old plank of wood, breaking it into splinters. She kicked the remains aside then paused at what she found beneath.. A little wooden cup. Somehow it survived the fire and all these years in the elements..

The woman bent to pick it up, holding it in her armored palm. It was so tiny compared to how it once looked in a four year old’s hands.

She stood in somber silence, her eyes prickling with tears she stubbornly refused to share.

Without a word, Cass walked to what remained of her mother’s old dinner table. The cup was set at its center neatly and then… Cass picked one of the purple wildflowers that had overtaken the homestead. Grown healthy and strong in the ashes of her life…The only good thing to come out of this mess...

Cass left the flower and the cup in the center of the table….

And left to finally fulfill her destiny.

#rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #Cassandra #the captain of the #season 3 minus gothel #my art #fanfic

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rocket-remmy · 4 years

Text

The Cake Is A Lie||Lydia and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @inspirationdivine and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Lydia catches Remmy in the act of....thinking about baking.

The bruises from last night had healed by the time Remmy decided to get out of the bed and head into the house. Lydia had said they were free to use the kitchen, to treat the home as their own, but Remmy was still tentative as they headed into the kitchen, glancing around. It was far fancier than anything they’d ever been inside of, including the old kitchen at the haunted mansion. Their insides crawled a little, skin vibrating. They just wanted to relax for a little bit, do something to take their mind off the shit that the world was pulling them through, and their go to had always been baking. It had always helped calm them down and they felt as if nothing else would even come close right now. But standing, alone, in Lydia’s giant kitchen, they weren’t sure what to do. After a moment, they turned to leave, deciding maybe just staying in their room would be enough. They could read or watch a movie or just bury their head in pillows and pretend like their life wasn’t falling apart before their very eyes. But instead they nearly ran headlong into Lydia, and they jerked, freezing. “S-sorry!” they said, backing away. “Sorry, I didn’t see you...there... I was just, um-- I was thinking about maybe baking something, but then I…” but they didn’t finish the statement, because there wasn’t a point to. There wasn’t a point to a lot nowadays for them.

Remmy roamed her home much like a skittish cat. Occasionally coming in for a cuddle, but equally sneaking around at night and hiding things. Lydia didn’t mind this so much, not when she was prone to the same. A quiet rendezvous with Marley here, a trip out there. She made sure to be around as often as possible, especially now she’d had to tarp up not one, not two, but four windows while she waited for the glazing company to prepare replacements. This was the problem with custom glass: it needed to be made before it could be replaced. She wandered idly into the kitchen, cardigan wrapped tight around her when Remmy bumped right into her. “Darling,” Lydia said with a smile, with the same cadence as if she’d said it’s okay. “That sounds tempting. What sort of thing were you intending to bake?”

“Oh, um,” Remmy stuttered. They hadn’t actually thought about what they’d bake. Whatever came to them when they opened the cabinets, probably. Cakes and cupcakes were easy, simple. “I didn’t really have anything concrete in mind. Probably something...simple but like, you know, distracting? Maybe cupcakes. Those are fun to decorate,” they rambled quietly, backing away enough to look at Lydia. They didn’t really question the broken windows, just as they knew Lydia wasn’t questioning where they went at night, something they were all the more grateful for here. There was an amount of discretion Lydia afforded them that Remmy wasn’t entirely sure roommates like Blanche and Ham would grant. Not that that made them bad roommates, but if Blanche followed Remmy to the Ring again and saw what was going on...Remmy shook the thought from their head. “Probably red velvet, i-if you have stuff for that. It’s my favorite-- er, was my favorite-- flavor.”

“Cupcakes? Sounds darling.” Lydia smiled softly at Remmy as they backed away. “I might. If I’m honest I do not bake often, but we may have some ingredients lying around from Simon’s entry into the pie contest.” She walked over to the cupboards, and began pulling out a motley arrangement of things. She hadn’t been completely honest. The cocoa powder, sugar and vanilla essence had each last been touched not by her nor Simon, but Anneliese, who had sworn that baking was one of the best things in life. It had kept her happy, and in turn Chloe and Sammy, so Lydia had bought her what she wanted, and left them there after her death. Flour, eggs, food colouring, instant yeast and other baking goodies were unveiled one by one. “Do you see what you’re looking for here?”

Remmy watched Lydia pulling out the ingredients and started formulating something in their mind. There was nothing to make red velvet, but there was enough for some lemon vanilla cupcakes. There was even ingredients to whip up a meringue frosting, if they were feeling it. “Uh, yeah, actually,” they said, taking the ingredients they needed and separating them from everything else Lydia had begun setting out. “You’ve sure got a lot for someone who doesn’t bake,” they said idly, “I don’t even have this much stuff and I used to try and make stuff regularly. It was the only way my roommate-- Blanche-- would eat something other than microwave dinners and candy.” A small pang, as they thought about Blanche, perhaps all alone now, too, in that giant house. They wished they could go back, but they knew this was for the better. Jax knew about Blanche and he had already threatened her once-- they couldn’t let that happen again. “Um-- do you wanna help? I usually let Blanche do all the mixing.”

As they began sorting through the ingredients, Lydia took a long look at the collar resting on Remmy’s neck. She’d never been one to keep track of fast fashion, nor anything that wouldn’t sit in her very feminine wardrobe with intricate structures and figure hugging cuts. Quite far from what Remmy wore anyway, so she’d assumed it was some modern fashion piece. Morgan’s messages had revealed something else, something dangerous. Her gaze flicked away long before Remmy was done. Her smile was as lightweight as her footsteps as she pulled out a mixing bowl and weighing scales, as well as aprons. One of which was bubblegum pink, the other a deep navy with embroidered detailing on the bottom. She handed the navy one to Remmy. “Well, much of it is shelf stable for quite a long time,” Lydia replied with a smile. “Yes darling, I’d love to help. So, what are we making?”

Lydia always had such a calming presence. Remmy didn’t know quite how to thank her for that, but maybe one day they’d be able to find the words. As they gathered up the stuff and started organizing the mixing bowls, they looked over at Lydia with as much of a tired smile as they could muster. “I’m thinking lemon vanilla cupcakes. Nice and light, and there’s enough here for a meringue icing, I think.” Started separating the ingredients, then, into dry and wet and what they needed for the batter and for the icing. “I hope that, um...sounds good,” they paused, unsure of a lot more nowadays than they had been before. They knew Lydia had said they were okay to treat this home as their own, but when their own home felt foreign and wrong, what did that mean for here? They scratched absently at the collar, before they started pouring out some of the dry ingredients, pulling up a simple recipe on their phone.

Cleaning her hands, Lydia looked back at them and nodded. She was not altogether too fond of lemon cakes, but then, she wouldn’t eat much in any case. As much as she cooked in the evenings, she rarely ate herself unless it was to indulge in a rich new treat. Just not too rich. “It does.” She pat their shoulder as she came to stand by their side, peering around Remmy’s shoulder to look at their phone. Gaze flicking to their collar once more. They looked so somber, so uncertain. There was almost nothing Remmy couldn’t heal from, but god did they look scared. The corner of Lydia’s lip twisted into a smile, playfully. “Now, I mightn’t be able to remember how this all works. We start with the flour, don’t we?” She reached for the bag of flour, but instead of pulling it towards her, she scooped up some flour from inside the bag, and did the most unexpected, and thus the most fae thing: she flicked it playfully, right at Remmy’s face.

Of all the things Remmy had expected Lydia to do, that had not been one of them. Though she was soft and compassionate and kind to them, someone who was playful and perhaps a bit devious wasn’t who Remmy had ever pegged her for. Blinking, they stared at her for a moment, flour now on their cheek and nose. Slowly, they reached over and picked up the baking powder can. “Actually,” they said, “I like to start with the baking powder,” and flicked some back at Lydia in kind, a sort of whimsical playfulness now on their face.

“That sounds-ack!” Lydia scrunched her face up as she got the baking powder in her mouth, recoiling, but when she opened her eyes, they glowed blue with bright enthusiasm, as she ran round to the other side of the island counter. This time, she took a handful of flour, hurling it all at Remmy’s face, before ducking under the counter.

Remmy couldn’t help but laugh. That was until a fistful of flour hit them directly in the face and they coughed a little, shaking their head. “Hey!” they exclaimed, brushing the flour from their hair. This might’ve been odd in any other circumstance, but Remmy was grateful for the reprieve. They scooped up a handful of flour themself and tossed it at the counter where Lydia had ducked. “That’s cheating!”

Instead of ensuring that Lydia didn’t get hit, all ducking did was ensuring that she got flour all over her elytra and wings, and her blouse underneath. “Alright, peace!” She called playfully, before standing back up, hands raised. Flour drifted down her clothes to the floor. “I did cheat, and I accept any reasonable punishment you give me.” She laughed, sliding the flour back to where they were baking.

Remmy was smiling by the time Lydia surrendered, something they hadn’t done in a very long time. It felt nice. They grabbed the flour and pulled it back over to the other ingredients, pointing to the bowls. “Your punishment is having to mix the wet ingredients in, that’s always the worst part,” they said, still smiling as they pulled up the recipe and started measuring out the dry ingredients. After a moment they paused, then looked over at Lydia. “Thank you,” they murmured, “for everything.”

“I accept my punishment entirely,” Lydia chuckled, a tiny promise binding herself into place, not that it was an issue for this, leaning against the counter as she watched Remmy starting to set up. “You are most welcome,” She replied softly, reaching over to touch their shoulder reassuringly. “Has the danger eased, yet?”

Remmy always relaxed under Lydia’s touch, it was one of the things about her that they most liked. There was a certain softness to her that made them almost melt. As if under her gaze, everything was okay. Even the collar around their neck. They measured out a few more ingredients before passing along the bowl to Lydia. “I-- it’s...complicated,” they muttered. Trying to find the words. “I sort of...I can’t talk about it,” they went on, “I sort of promised I wouldn’t.”

“I see, and I would never ask you to break a promise.” Lydia replied, searchingly. She looked away from Remmy as she tidied away the ingredients Remmy was finished with, before peeking around their shoulder, and turning the oven to the right temperature. “I have a more general question. See, no other species is quite so particular with their wording as we are, so I feel the need to clarify. Generally speaking, Remmy, when you use the word can’t, do you mean won’t by choice, or that there is a more physical limitation on a situation?”

“Not all promises are good promises…” Remmy mumbled, starting on the mixture and picking out which pan they wanted to use for the cupcakes. Started mixing ingredients for the frosting, a methodic sort of motion. Relaxing. Enough so for them to let down their guard just a bit, release the tension in their shoulders just a bit. “I can’t. I-- I didn’t know at first, but it’s-- the second one.” paused, waiting to see if they’d get sick, but it seemed as if Jax’s wording didn’t extend to someone guessing it and Remmy affirming it. They sighed with relief. Continued mixing again, slowly at first, as if unsure they should go on, peeking at Lydia from the corner of their vision. “I’m sorry. I-- I should’ve said something. I just-- I wasn’t sure I could. O-or should.”

“No, but that doesn’t change their value as a promise,” Lydia replied mildly. Her eyes were still heavy with exhaustion from the day she’d spent upholding her own promise to the Vural witch, that had threatened to consume her whole every time she’d dared to nap. Owing a debt or a promise to the wrong person was a terrible thing indeed. That didn’t mean they weren’t important to keep, until they ended. “That’s all you need to say,” replied Lydia. “Don’t make yourself sick. Anyway, I believe it’s time for me to add the wet ingredients.” She raised her arm, and gestured for the bowl. They didn’t need to discuss this anymore now. It was time for Lydia to find out where Remmy was going each week.

Remmy was relieved when Lydia didn’t press further. They didn’t want to get sick but they also didn’t want to lie to Lydia. Honesty was important to her, and therefore it was important to Remmy to be honest to her. They usually tried to be honest, anyway, but it mattered much more with Lydia. She’d never wrong them or lied to them. They owed her that much. “Here,” they said, measuring out the milk and oil, “add that first and stir, then we’ll add the eggs.” As they handed the stuff over, they thought that, perhaps, Lydia needed this reprieve just as much as they did. And maybe things didn’t always need to be sad or serious. Sometimes it was okay to put that aside and bake something simple with someone you cared about. The thought made Remmy smile, and they grabbed the next bowl. Maybe that was what their uncle had meant when he’d said their mother was peaceful to be around. Maybe she’d found the right balance of life and baking. “Thanks,” they said again, “for doing this with me.” And maybe that was something Remmy wanted, too.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: lydia #the cake is a lie #lydia

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

A Gentleman’s Guide to Dancing (chapter two)

For the ever wonderful @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

Chapter One

Please leave a comment on Ao3!

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“And where do you think you’re going at this time of the day, young lady?”

It was their little joke, between the two of them, one that wouldn’t get old. Taako knew fine well where his sister was going when he caught her at the door, in her nicest day dress with her hair done up in elaborate braids protected from the wind by a silken scarf that had been a gift from their aunt, with a basket hanging from one arm that was emanating a distinct, sweet sugar smell.

“None of your business,” she told him primly but with a wicked grin, one that lifted her freckled cheeks.

Taako leaned in the doorway, eyeing his sister with his best impression of a stern older brother, “Definitely not going to meet that scoundrel of a blacksmith in town?”

“I’m sure I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Lup checked her hair in the silvered hall mirror, “The only scoundrel I know is you.”

Taako had to laugh at that, rolling his eyes, “Well, give Barold my best. Tell him I hope he enjoys the cookies I spent all of yesterday making…”

His sister turned a pleading look on him, delicately moving the basket behind her back, “There were only ten left anyway! And he does really like them.”

He waved her off with a dismissive hand, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just make more. Or starve, whichever. Have fun.”

Taako expected to hear the door open and shut in quick succession, Lup as eager as ever to go do whatever she did with her gentleman caller that he definitely didn’t want to think about. But instead she lingered, eyes now on him rather than her reflection though there were enough similarities between the two.

“Taako…”

He stifled a sigh. He knew this as well, as familiar as their joke, though this was starting to grate on him more. Lup gazing at him whenever she would leave to meet Barry, guilt and a little bit of pity in her eyes. Like she was tensing the bond between them, putting strain on it and felt like she should apologise.

Taako couldn’t stand that. He couldn’t bear the fact that his sister felt she had to apologise for being happy.

It was true that for years they’d had nothing but each other, knowing each other inside and out, forming shelters for each other when nothing else made sense. But the older they both got, the more he realised Lup needed more than him. She needed someone dependable and brave, who went around fixing problems. Someone she could build something with, rather than hide in.

Lup needed Barry in a way she’d never need Taako again.

He knew that. He just didn’t like being reminded of it.

He loped forward, meeting her in the square of morning sunlight coming in through the leaded glass, reaching forward and tucking a loose strand of golden hair back into the safety of the silk.

“You never do braids as neatly as me,” he smirked, patting her cheek before stepping back, “Go have fun, Lup. Don’t you dare come back before midnight.”

Lup looked as if there was more she wanted to say but eventually sighed, a small smile that was sad and grateful all at once, carrying the weight of everything they hadn’t said, “I love you, Koko. I’ll see you later.”

“Same to you, Lulu,” Taako fixed a smile on his face that carried nothing but what it was, quite deliberately, “Love ya.”

The house did feel so much emptier when she was gone.

Taako sighed softly, suddenly not wanting to go back to his book. He had the restless, fidgety energy that he sometimes got, the prickling under his skin and the swimming in his vision. He either needed to fire off some spells as quickly as possible or he needed to cook something.

Seeing as Lup had just made off with the last of the cookies he made the other day, he chose the second.

Taako was well aware that young men of his station were supposed to never set foot in the kitchen. But he was already clinging to said station by the very edges of his fingertips and cooking funneled his restlessness into something tasty and useful so he saw little harm in indulging himself within his own home.

He’d always loved it, in fact, and illuminating the manor’s kitchen with a wave of his hand brought a rush of fondness and, just for a moment, made him five years old again. Tiny and slight with ears so big he couldn’t hold them up and a broken heart in his little chest, still expecting his mother or father to walk through the door at any moment. Sitting at Auntie’s feet because he didn’t know how to be alone but for the first time Lup didn’t want him near. Finally getting himself absorbed in what she was doing, how she turned separate ingredients into something else, something new. If he followed her hands, became fascinated by the hidden, subtle magic of it all, then he didn’t have to think about why his sister cried all the time, why she seemed to have given up on mama and papa ever coming back, why they lived here now instead of their old house.

Even years later, when he and Lup found each other again, when they learned how to function with the raw, broken edges of their family, Taako still cooked. He bought books, telling anyone who gave him strange looks that it was for his Auntie, when really he would stay up all night making notes in the margins for possible amendments and sketching out presentation ideas. It was like his magic in a lot of ways. Taking separate things and making something new, something that hadn’t existed before and now did because of his efforts.

That was all Taako wanted. Making cakes out of flour and eggs and sugar. Making illusions out of simple electrical charges in the air, the patterns and eddies he could feel with his fingertips.

Making a future for his sister out of the mess he’d been up until now.

Taako gave a soft sigh and tied back his hair into a messy bun, a bastardised version of the neat queue it was normally in. He tugged on his apron, so faded it was hard to see it had ever been blue and white striped. Already his blue mood was fading, shaking off his hands like irritating droplets of water as he gathered bowls and ingredients from the pantry.

Lup had taken the last of the cookies but he found himself gathering sugar, the scalloped tins from the very back of the cupboard and some of the wildflower honey from Merle’s bees. Madelines it was then. Sometimes his hands made decisions before his brain did.

His ears twitched when the early afternoon sun fell on them, as if feeling the warm weight of it. The window, slightly ajar, let in nothing but a fresh breeze and birdsong. He settled into familiar actions and rhythms, certain in his actions, doing everything by eye with a sense of pride. And slowly, surely, like the honey running from the spoon, Taako felt himself again.

He whistled as he worked, summoning lemons right into his hand, tossing it from one palm to the other playfully. It wasn’t until the bowl was filled with perfect butter yellow curls of zest that Taako realised he was humming the song from the dance. The song that had carried him and Kravitz in a mad dance around the entirety of Countess Raven’s manor in a fit of burned frustration, wine and mania.

The thought brought a rush of heat to Taako’s freckled cheeks and the now waxy white lemon slipped through his fingers and bounced to the tiled floor. He retrieved it as quick as he could; with their funds the way they were, he couldn’t afford to be wasting ingredients. He’d lost the song but it still played in his head, as muffled as it had been that night, a counterpoint to the winter wind and the night owls that gathered in the woods.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself in irritation, continuing the stirring with magic alone just to have something to focus on. Something that wasn’t Kravitz or the way he’d smelled of polished oak or how cool his hands had been in the few times they’d ghosted over his own as they’d danced.

That wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It had been a nice wild moment, a release of the anxiety and frustration of a boring party, but he couldn’t see it existing outside of that night, like a flower that could only grow in a certain place with just the right soil. He wasn’t expecting to see Kravitz again. Now that the cold light of day had reminded them both who they were and what they were and just what was appropriate for them to be doing.

Taako began to spoon mixture into the scalloped impressions, lined up neatly like the world’s most orderly beach. Soon each one had a thick golden puddle in the centre, speckled with bright yellow. He took a moment to feel proud of himself and admire just how neat they all looked before banging them in the ancient, cast iron oven. He and Lup would scarf them down within two hours for sure. If any survived, he’d take them to Merle and Magnus in town.

He didn’t take off his apron or loosen his hair, not quite sure if he was finished yet. He simply magicked up a cup of tea and sat on one counter to rest his ankles, enjoying the kitchen filling with the smell of lemons and honey.

And suddenly it turned bitter in his mouth as a thought struck him, like his brain had just decided he was far too content and needed to be knocked back.

This could be the last time you get to do this.

Taako’s hands tightened around the mug, magic suddenly pulsing through his fingertips and leaving a hairline crack down the side. When he finally found a wealthy heiress willing to marry him- if, the sly voice corrected- it would hardly be proper for him to haunt the kitchen any more. He’d be expected to do whatever gentlemen did with their free time, probably hunt or drink brandy or scoff at poor people. A lifetime of pretending, of wearing a mask and hoping it eventually just fused to his face so he could forget there’d ever been anything underneath.

And that was if things went well. If they didn’t, in two months they wouldn’t have a home, let alone a kitchen. Destitution or a complete loss of the very few things he liked about himself. Those were his choices.

Auntie had sickened and gone so quickly there had been no time to formalise anything, to fill in the gaps that hadn’t been filled. Neither he nor Lup were officially recorded anywhere as her heirs, given that they weren’t her children, that she’d taken them in out of the goodness of her heart after not speaking to her twin since they were the age of the two children she’d suddenly acquired.

Taako tried to remember how he’d felt this time last year. Young, free, invincible. Able to outrun or outsmart anything that would dare try and trip him up. Unaware that life was just around the corner and it would always be faster, smarter and crueller than him.

If you weren’t the way you are, it wouldn’t have happened. Of course Auntie didn’t put anything in writing, she didn’t want a fuck up like you as her heir. If you were better, if you were even halfway decent, Lup would be safe.

Taako slammed the mug down on the counter, completing the destruction his magic had already done, though he didn’t stop and look back to see. Almost frantically he threw himself at the cupboards, pulling out whatever ingredients weren’t already assembled, anything he could get his hands on. He found more bowls, more spoons, his magic reaching out and grabbing whatever his hands couldn’t. And then he was moving, following a set of instructions that came from nowhere, latching onto them desperately so he wasn’t at the mercy of the rest of his mind. He didn’t care what he was making, as long as he could add something to the world in a manic attempt to prove his own worth in some small way.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Taako cursed under his breath, trying to steady his hands and dissipate his magic and his anxiety just as he’d done before, though this time it was like oil, just clinging tighter for all his efforts. As he went down the hall he did quick mental maths, trying to juggle in his head while moving his feet. If it was the milkman,they should have just enough spare silver rattling around to pay him, if it was the butcher he would take an IOU if Taako batted his eyelashes enough…

If it was a bailiff…

Taako shook that thought out of his mind and opened the door before he could lose his nerve

“Oh hello! I was hoping you’d be in,” Kravitz stood on the doorway, framed in winter sunlight, as effortlessly neat as he had been that night.

“I...yes, I’m in,” Taako said, apparently thinking that the only thing to do when stood in a doorway with the most idiotic gaping expression was to say something equally stupid.

There was a pause while Kravitz shifted his weight and cleared his throat, though he took the fact that Taako’s brain had apparently fallen out of the back of his head with good grace.

“I...I’m sorry if it’s a bad time or I’m interrupting,” he said with an adorably coy smile, “I was just going insane stuck inside of the mistress' mansion all by myself and had to get some air and, well...I don’t know anyone else around here?”

Taako relaxed a little. Maybe the honesty and openness from the party had survived, if only for a while, like a good kind of hangover.

“Well, you know me,” he flashed a smile, “And that’s really all the interesting people who live around here anyway.”

Kravitz laughed, a pleasant, deep, laugh with just a little rumble around the edges, “May I come in?”

Taako stepped to one side and gestured down the hall, though now thinking of the many jobs that needed doing since they’d had to let the staff go, the dust gathering in the corners and the grime on some of the windows where neither he nor Lup had got around to cleaning them.

But Kravitz’s eyes passed over all of that as if it wasn’t there, hanging up his coat on the stand. He was wearing a similar colour scheme to what he’d worn at the party, all black, but this time a loose everyday shirt and waistcoat, dark trousers with a high waist. Taako wondered if the Countess made black mandatory or whether her ward was consciously trying to fit in. Or maybe he just liked black too.

“Are you working on something?” Kravitz asked delicately, apparently paying as much attention to Taako’s dress as he was to Kravitz’s.

Taako looked down at himself, only just managing to bite back a curse. He’d left his apron on without thinking, still dusted with flour and a few golden honey stains.

“Oh, um…” his mind raced for an excuse as to why he’d be dressed this way, each wilder than the last. Rehearsing a play? This was the new men’s fashion for elvenkind? The flour was actually ground bone or some equally grisly spell component?

Kravitz seemed to sniff the air a little, the scent of lemon and sugar and lavender escaping from the kitchen, “Are you baking?”

Taako swallowed, hoping he wasn’t blushing but the burning in his cheeks said otherwise, “Yeah, just...just a little…” He searched Kravitz’s expression for any disdain, confused when all he saw was a polite interest. Maybe even fascination.

“It smells divine! I’d never have thought you would be interested in something like baking but you’re clearly something of a genius.”

Now Taako was blushing for an entirely different reason, “Well...it’s kind of you to say so. I’m interested in all kinds of cooking really, not just baking. I always have, since I was small.”

Kravitz just looked outright impressed and not even in a feigned way. Taako actually didn’t think his face could hold an insincere expression.

“That’s amazing. If I were left to my own devices with no servants or cooks or anything, I’d starve before the day was through.”

Taako’s lips quirked upwards, “Well, if that ever happens, just come knock on my door. I’ll keep you going.”

Kravitz’s eyes brightened, “That’s a comforting thought.”

Taako gave a slight chuckle, tucking loose hair back behind his ears, “Why don’t you come through? I can make coffee and the madelines should be ready soon.”

And that was how Taako ended up with the heir of one of the richest and most mysterious families for miles around leaning against his kitchen counter, drinking coffee and pouting adorably when he was informed that the madelines needed to cool before they could be eaten.

“Believe me, it’s worth it,” Taako grinned, after discreetly vanishing the shards of broken mug from his outburst, “When the sugar cools and hardens around the edge and you get that snap when you bite into it...that’s magic right there.”

Kravitz seemed to accept that, eyes wandering, “And what were you making over there?” He indicated the half finished mess of Taako’s frantic baking frenzy just before the bell had rung.

Looking at it now, Taako had to suck a breath in through his teeth and admit, “I...have no idea. I was kind of...improvising?”

“Oh,” he nodded, looking like he might have sensed the hesitation under the elf’s words and was deciding to ignore it, “So...if I was going to learn to bake, just in case I’m shipwrecked on a deserted island or something of that nature and I can’t get in contact with you...what would I start with?”

Taako smirked, “Does this deserted island have a fully functioning kitchen?”

“Let’s say it does.”

Taako puzzled it over for a moment, wandering over to the shelf where all his recipe books were haphazardly piled, no attempt made to keep them neat with how frequently he pulled them down and juggled them around. Most were dog eared, either from use, being second hand or a combination of both. Some, Auntie used to say, were from generations back, hand written in crumbling scrawls.

“Do you like sweet or savoury things?” he hummed, fingers walking over some of the spines.

“Sweet,” came the almost shy reply. Taako hid a smile, it was a little unusual that someone who dressed entirely in black and lived in a mansion decorated with black feathers and even some skulls would have a sweet tooth.

“Well then, let’s try cookies. We can throw some nuts in, islands have nut trees, right? Do nuts grow on trees?”

“Some do,” Kravitz sounded like he was reciting from a textbook, like he was a schoolboy facing a tutor and eager for a gold star, “Tree nuts like hazelnuts and pistachios and pecans. All others aren’t actually nuts, they’re legumes or seeds.”

Taako lifted an eyebrow. Someone clearly didn’t go outside enough as a child. He hopped up onto his knees on the counter so he could reach far enough back and snag the ingredients.

“Right, well, tree nuts it is. And plenty of brown sugar, the good sticky stuff that goes like molasses when you bake it…”

“You’re so knowledgeable about this,” Kravitz’s voice suddenly sounded so much closer than it had before. When Taako turned, he saw that he’d moved right up beside him and was offering out a hand to help him down.

Stunned, Taako found himself blurting, “I could float down. If I wanted to.”

He immediately felt a pang of regret as a look of hurt flashed across Kravitz’s face for just a moment before smoothing out into his usual polite smile. The hand snapped back to his side, “Of course. I should have known better, I’m a magic user myself.”

Taako’s guilt crystallised into sharp edges in his chest as he recognised an obvious attempt to change the subject. But still he nodded, playing along, as if the jar in their conversation had never happened, “I can sense it. What school of magic do you study?”

Kravitz stepped back to let Taako hop down, “Ah, I haven’t studied a lot, if I’m honest. I’ve never had a magical tutor of any kind, just my...just my mistress.”

That did give Taako pause, though he covered it with busying himself at the mixing bowl. Innate magic was a rare thing, not taken from any book or school but from the user’s own blood. It had a reputation for being incredibly powerful but, as a side effect, very unstable. Unstable wasn’t exactly the word Taako would use to describe his new neighbour but he had to wonder what had come first and what had followed, out of his wardship to the countess and this newly mentioned magic.

“Lucky,” he finally said, playing it off lightly as always, “All my lessons were painfully boring.”

Kravitz gave a soft, easy laugh, though he’d clearly been watching very carefully for Taako’s reaction.

Usually Lup was the only person ever allowed in the kitchen while Taako worked and even then she risked a slap with a wooden spoon if she got in the way. But seeing as this was a lesson of sorts, Taako swallowed his usual protective bossiness and gave Kravitz odd tasks to do, carefully talking him through the steps for each one.

And each and every time, he regretted it.

“I think you were a little hasty when you said you’d starve in a day,” Taako eventually snorted in exasperation, “I don’t think you’d make it until the early afternoon.”

Kravitz, now wearing a grey suit rather than the black one he’d entered with after the sack of flour he’d dropped had ignored his aesthetic, gave him a wounded look, “I could eat stale biscuits from the pantry…”

“The second you’d touch them, dear, they’d probably spontaneously combust.”

Kravitz’s hurt pantomime cracked and he gave a bark of laughter, “Fine, I’m hopeless. But I tried and, therefore, I should still get some of the spoils.”

Taako smiled at the neat tray of seven perfectly round balls and four misshapen blobs of cookie dough. Even with operating around a one man disaster zone, they hadn’t done a bad job. Sure there was flour piling up in drifts on the floor and it had taken them two sets of mixture after Kravitz had poured buttermilk into one rather than actual milk but he had a good feeling about them.

“Sure, I’ll take pity on you.”

In the fifteen minutes they took to bake, they magically cleaned the kitchen and sat talking, drinking the last of the now lukewarm coffee and eating madeleines. Despite some careful questioning, Taako learned very little about Kravitz in that time. Just that he’d been working for the family business in the city and had a passion for music almost as precious to him as Taako’s love of cooking. Still, the conversation was as light and comforting as any he’d had with his sister or friends, in a way Taako just hadn’t thought was possible.

Almost as if the gods had known he’d needed a friend right now and had dropped one on his doorstep.

It was evening by the time Taako had Kravitz back on the doorstep with a basket full of still warm, still delicious smelling nut cookies and madeleines. He was still apologising about having to leave, saying his mistress would be expecting him back before eight.

Taako shook his head, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll come see you next time, you can show me some of your pieces.”

Kravitz’s cheeks seemed to colour a bit, “Really? You’d be interested in that?”

“I made you cookies,” Taako leaned in the doorway and smiled crookedly, “I’m going to need something in exchange.”

They both laughed companionably at that, though there was something more serious in Kravitz’s expression afterwards.

“I had a really good time today, Taako. I’m glad I came over.”

Taako shifted, not liking the way that comment made butterflies wake up in his stomach, as nice as the words were, “Sure thing. It’s nice to have friends, right?”

Something changed in his expression then, something Taako couldn’t place in the second it was there before disappearing. A hesitation of some kind.

“Yes. It is nice to...to have friends.”

After exchanging goodnights, Taako watched Kravitz walk off into the gathering dusk, quickly becoming invisible as the sun disappeared behind the hills. He found himself nursing a small smile.

Even if it had been the last time he ever got to be himself, it had been a pretty good last time.

#taakitz #regency au #austen au #taako #kravitz #taz #the adventure zone #taz: balance #lup #barry

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