#because of that one time she pretended to be gertrudes sister as an excuse to loiter around the acachalla house i guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crumblepot-redirect · 6 years

Note

For the prompts list - #8 for nygmobblepot, please, if you're so inclined?

oh, man i am so inclined hell yeah(this actually got really long? sorry?)

ask me any of the prompts from this list

8. i know we’re best friends and all, but could you maybe be my date to my cousin’s step-sister’s wedding to prove to my judgmental relatives that i can find love and that i won’t be alone for the rest of my life? + nygmobblepot (and a canon divergence where Oswald’s dad survives for the sake of a storyline, and me not wanting to put poor ed in with his family.)

When Oswald’s father divorced his wife, Oswald considered killing the woman and her two children. He considered roasting his step-siblings, cooking them up on a skewer and serving them to their mother, considered hanging them from the high vaulted ceilings of his father’s estate, considered putting their heads on stakes and leaving them in the front lawn to rot. At this point, they’re related merely by history, neither blood or law; there is nothing, for Oswald, presenting resistance to the death of these three terrible, rude people.

And yet.

“Family is family,” his father says, and Oswald can’t really argue that, because that same sentiment is what keeps him in the family, as well. He supposes he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds him, that keeps him connected to the only family he has— he loves his father dearly, and his extended family begrudgingly. Overall, he knows his mother would want him to be involved with them, no matter how tacky and judgmental they can be.

The questions start as soon as Oswald reinserts himself into his family after finding himself once again. His father comes to his aid, defends him where he can, but only so much can be done.

Sasha is bringing her fiancé to dinner, Oswald. Who will you be bringing?

Surely you must have someone.

The clock is ticking, Oswald. You aren’t getting any younger.

No children? Not even a wife? Better hurry up.

He doesn’t know the proper way to express that his lifestyle doesn’t quite make room for children, or relationships, for that matter. Often, he jokes that the only way he’ll come into having a child is if one follows him directly off of the playground, imprinting upon him like a duckling. He doubts that will ever happen.

When he finds out that Sasha is getting married, tearing open an invitation over breakfast while Ed reads through his mayoral schedule, he practically sinks out of his chair. No part of him wants to attend this event.

His family will never stop asking him questions. God, even Charles has a fiancé. He’s the last one, and they’re sure to let him know. Surely, by now, they wonder if anyone will have him. Pushing thirty, it’s a terrifying existence to consider; dying alone. He’s braved death alone already, he doesn’t particularly want to do it again. It would be nice to have someone at his side.

Oswald isn’t sure how he asks Ed. He really isn’t sure, when he tries to recall the conversation his mind blanks out and simply provides him with the moment Ed repeats it all back to him; “You want me to pose as your partner for a wedding, to prove your family wrong. That’s fair, and I’m happy to help. Remember, I don’t eat pork.”

The entire thing is easier said than done, Oswald realizes. None of it seems to be bothering Ed, of course. He stands at Oswald’s left side, arm wrapped around the small of his back, wearing his business smile and his nicest black suit. In pinstripe, Oswald cuts a particularly regal figure next to him, as is the intention.

Sitting in a church pew is an experience Oswald hasn’t had in years. Ed expresses, briefly before the ceremony begins, that the synagogue he went to as a child didn’t have pews, just folding chairs that would catch his jacket when he sat down. Oswald can’t help but be amused by the image; Ed, all long legs and arms, having to carefully sit down as not to have his jacket fold up. And yet, despite his apparent inexperience in such a setting, Ed fares better than Oswald does. He follows the cues to stand and sit easily, always offering Oswald a hand for assistance— Oswald has to take it every time.

As soon as they’re allowed to leave, Oswald hauls himself out and back toward the car. He doesn’t want to be stopped by anyone, doesn’t want to talk to anyone; he wants to get in the car, he wants to have the driver take them to the reception dinner, and he wants to drink. Ed, kindly, tries to oblige.

It’s never so simple, but they make it away from the church without any incident, except for Oswald repeatedly pretending to be on the phone in order to not have to talk to family members.

Most everyone at the reception dinner who isn’t the family of the groom is related to Elijah’s ex-wife; few Van Dahls remain, and very few of those that do were invited to this particular event. It doesn’t help Oswald, merely makes him feel out of place at a table full of people who likely heard painfully revealing gossip about him as soon as he came into his father’s life. The bastard son, the false heir, the lesser, the criminal.

He stands closely to Ed’s side as they greet the newlyweds, has to crane his neck to see the groom’s face. The man may be handsome, but there’s absolutely nothing behind the eyes. “What a catch, sister, dear,” Oswald says, voice dripping with insincerity and venom.

“As is yours,” Sasha offers Ed her hand, tugs him down by it to get a better look at him. “Where’d you find this?”

“A man must have his secrets,” he puts his hand up across Ed’s chest, moves him two steps back from Sasha, “you understand.”

The groom and Ed share a hollow glance; two men out of place but kept by conviction. Such is love.

It feels, at least to Oswald, that everyone around them is watching them. Maybe it’s his nerves, naturally tuned into the proper level of vigilance that is required in Gotham, not so much in a wedding, purposefully held upstate. Or maybe, he’s right.

He’s right, because Ed is doing so well. Ed is laughing at his snarky comments, corroborating his stories with what feels like a practiced ease, catching him before he can stumble, bringing him drinks and stealing hearts all the way. By all accounts, Ed is perfect. (Then again, Oswald already knew that. But to see him fawned over by such hard to please members of his family? It makes something sick and depraved in his heart twist up, like a dry heave the morning after a binge of vodka and rum. It makes him think of that night on the couch, makes him think of the way Ed’s skin gives off fireplace heat, the way Ed looks at him, over his glasses and full of trust. Oswald hears his mother in his ears; What good is love if it is one-sided? He wishes she were here.)

“You ought to marry him,” a woman says to Oswald, quite possibly someone he’s supposed to be related to, as Ed is distracted by a cousin, aunt, grandmother, someone who works in ballistics in Metropolis, “don’t let him get away. He loves you.”

And maybe it’s a mockery. Maybe she can see right into his desperate eyes, can see through what he hopes come across as loving gazes, right into his longing, his despair, his lack of understanding as to why this is simultaneously the easiest and most difficult thing he’s ever done. Or, maybe, she sees something he doesn’t. He hopes that’s the case.

“I intend to,” he assures her, speaking loudly enough that Ed will be able to hear him. “I just know there’s no one I’d rather have at my side than him,” Oswald puts his hand on Ed’s knee, makes a show of tensing his fingers around the soft flesh; mine it says, “he’s absolutely remarkable.”

Ed melts under the praise, casually drops a kiss to the side of Oswald’s head when he gets up for more drinks. Neither of them try to read too heavily into it. With a driver waiting patiently in the car, there’s no excuse for either of them to endure the event sober, and being able to drink allows Oswald to pretend all of this could be real. Just for a minute.

It all goes so well until Elijah dances with Sasha, passes her off to her new husband with a reverence that only loving fathers can have for their daughters. Oswald admires that, in Elijah; the ability to look past a grudge and see a person who lacks something he can provide. (Sasha has a father of blood, but he isn’t at her wedding, he doesn’t love or appreciate her quite like Elijah does. Elijah spent so long thinking he had no children of his own, couldn’t help himself from loving a daughter who was beautiful like he dreamed his child with Gertrud could have been. It isn’t the girl’s fault that her mother’s hand brought her up cruel and vicious; sometimes it’s safer for a girl to be cruel in Gotham, than it is for her to feel loved. He can’t hold that against her, all he can hope to do is warm a hole through the ice around her.) Oswald knows, despite his relation, he will never be able to be as forgiving as his father.

It could be all of the alcohol in his system, but Oswald can’t help but be jealous as he watches Sasha’s husband bring her around the floor, as he comfortably dips her and suddenly everyone else is out on the floor with them. Instead of following them, Oswald tucks his chair up next to Ed’s and rubs at his ankle. He listens as Ed describes the various things he’s learned, some news old but Oswald pretends it isn’t, if nothing else but to let Ed speak uninterrupted. Absently, their hands come together and Ed gestures into Oswald’s, draws tiny diagrams with his fingertip into Oswald’s palm.

He isn’t choked up, because he shouldn’t be. Because he’s the fucking penguin; he’s killed men, destroyed families, uprooted hundred-year-old precedents— he does not get choked up at mere gestures of domesticity. But he does, because he thinks about waking up next to Ed, he thinks about a stupid piece of metal being a representation of something so much bigger, he imagines hyphens and shared safe houses.

“What exactly is it about Oswald?” Someone asks Ed, after having distracted Ed from his lecture on the gossip in the family tree, “I can’t imagine he was your first suitor, is all.”

“Oswald is fantastic,” Ed says, haughty, tone like he’s stating one of his various facts, tidbits of knowledge that he understands as inherently true and without question. “He’s the only one— he sees me for who I am. There’s nothing more important than authenticity, now is there?” His fingers circle around Oswald’s wrist, then slide up between his fingers, closing down and holding his hand firmly. Ed pats the top of Oswald’s hand, hums contentedly, “Though, honestly, what isn’t to love?”

Oswald chokes on his emotionality, but covers it up as a cough. He excuses himself, squeezing Ed’s hand before disengaging in the direction of the open bar. The person talking to Ed tries to say “he’s always doing this,” and it makes Oswald want to wheel around and scream. He wants to grab them by the shoulders and say, “You don’t know me, you’ve never known me. Ed knows me,” but he knows that an outburst like that would put all of Ed’s effort to waste. And he’s obviously tried so hard.

When he gets to the bar he orders something strong, something with vodka, and he has a few. Not enough, not by far, but when he comes back with white wine for the both of them, he’s significantly less capable of listening in to whatever Ed is saying to other people.

“Would you like to dance?” Ed asks him, later on in the night, once the music has slowed down and the children have filtered out of the reception hall, leaving only those interested in continuing to drink and socialize. “I’m a very good dancer, you know.”

“I’m sure you are,” Oswald says, and he means it. Ed is good at everything he sets his mind to. “With this leg, though, I’m afraid I’m not.”

Ed sits, watches the other couples on the floor, before turning back to Oswald with a smile. “Take your shoes off,” he starts to unlace his own, “you can put your bad foot on top of mine. It’ll alleviate the pressure.”

“I—”

“It’s tradition to dance at weddings,” he argues, “I’m sure it brings bad luck if someone refuses to dance.”

“What if I want to bring her bad luck?” Oswald is sour, though he does work at untying his own shoes and setting them beside Ed’s. He leans his cane against the table and hopes that nobody is stupid enough to try and steal it.

“Then do it for me,” Ed stands up and offers Oswald his hand, so gentlemanly it hurts, “I haven’t been able to do something like this before.”

For the first few steps, it feels as though neither of them quite knows what to do; both drunkenly stumbling until they find their bearings within one another. Oswald gets used to the feeling of Ed lifting his foot with his own, learns to follow it with his good leg like he does his cane. Doing things traditionally is a lost cause, Oswald a little too tipsy to remember the proper positioning for his hands, so he just wraps his arms over Ed’s shoulders and settles his face against the junction of his shoulder and neck. Ed has to lean down, just a touch, to properly drape his arms around Oswald’s hips, fitting them against one another perfectly.

“I’ve been rather selfish,” Oswald admits, after they’ve been dancing for a few minutes, “I must confess.”

“Oh?” At no point does Ed stop their slow swaying, the gradual spin they’re following.

“I—” He huffs, doesn’t notice how Ed shivers when the breath goes over his neck, “It wasn’t fair of me, to ask you to do this, considering the circumstances.”

Ed’s arms tighten minutely around his hips, fingertips twitching, “Circumstances?”

“This entire night, I—” the emotion returns to Oswald’s voice, and while he knows Ed will never mock him for it, he’s still loathe to let it manifest. “I love you, Ed. I don’t know what I thought— it was just— I apologize.”

“You’re not teasing me,” Ed’s breath is hot and uneven where it flutters over the shell of Oswald’s ear, shuddering like tears or wet brakes, “are you?”

“God, Ed, no,” when Oswald pulls back, he takes hold of the sides of Ed’s face, grip loose but still caging. Ed can see his sincerity, just as he’s been able to see his jealousy and discomfort the whole night; he’s simply misread it as something negative toward him. “Why would I tease you about—”

Ed dips him back, carefully rearranging his arms so that he can hold Oswald easily, in case his good leg slips out from beneath him. He steals a kiss when Oswald’s mouth is still parted, aborted words no longer daring to escape. It’s simple, sweet, and so easy to get lost in— Ed has to consistently remind himself not to let go of Oswald, not to slide both hands up into his expertly styled hair.

“You fogged up my glasses,” Ed laughs, once they’ve righted themselves and have resumed dancing. “I love you. I had just—”

It’s Oswald’s turn to kiss Ed, getting up on the tips of his toes despite the pain it causes him. He surges up into Ed, nearly knocks the both of them over and doesn’t even care enough about it to apologize once he’s broken away for breath, “You understand my family will want you at events, after this.”

“That’s fine with me,” Ed admits, sheepish as he positions his wide palms over Oswald’s hips rather than wrapping his arms around them, “you’ve convinced them to love me, with all your compliments.”

“I’m afraid you’re starting to do the same,” Oswald’s fingers drag down, over the lapels of Ed’s suit as he makes himself comfortable against his chest, “you make me sound much better than I am. I appreciate that.”

“I didn’t say anything untrue, you know.”

“Nor did I.”

“We’re going to be one of those terribly affectionate couples,” without realizing it, Ed has started tapping the rhythm of the song into Oswald’s hip, “aren’t we?”

“Oh, I do hope so.”

#answered #ask games #prompt fills #nygmobblepot #vampirebillionaire #i dont know what happened here but i hope you enjoy it #i feel all sorts of ways #sorry im posting this at six in the am #but i got drunk and rewrote it and got taken with it #im sorry its such a wack ass au but i just had an IMAGE in my head #i hope you enjoy tho! thank u for asking me this one! its SO cute

48 notes · View notes

queercapwriting · 7 years

Text

“sanvers wedding fic: maybe one where they dance to say you won’t let go and find out kara’s gift is a retired police husky/german mix, and she’s not named gertrude but that’s okay?” prompt from @kirstyn-loftus

(I wrote it while listening to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJW81j6hsuA)

In the end -- or at the beginning, as it were -- they had so many songs they didn’t know how to choose just one.

Alex stressed and Alex cried, because it had to be perfect -- their wedding had to be perfect -- and Maggie tried to console her, to assure her, to gently kiss away her face and her worries. Kara took her flying and James took her sparring.

In the end, though, it was Winn that made her feel better.

He cleared his throat one morning in the command center of the DEO, loudly and nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Excuse me, everyone? I need your attention.”

“What is it, Agent Schott?” J’onn pretended to be annoyed, but he knew, and he could barely contain the smile growing on his face.

He put on a good show, though, and Winn would run and slide into a hug with Papa Bear later as thanks.

“Alex,” Winn started, holding up the flash drive.

“Did you manage to plot the path and origin of that hull fragment we uncovered last week?” Alex rushed forward, reaching eagerly for the drive.

Winn snatched it away, and J’onn nearly choked on his laughter. Kara nudged him with her elbow, and he crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes on his eldest human daughter, trying to look grave.

“Uh, no,” Winn said. “I mean, I’ll have that to you by this afternoon, Agent Danvers, but I um... I had another project I was working on.”

“Winn, what could be more important than -- “

“It’s for you. And Maggie. It’s... for the wedding. You were worried about choosing a wedding song. The best wedding song for you two. You wanted it to be perfect. So perfect that you didn’t stop to think about another option. But I figured, why just have one? You guys have so many forms of love together: why sum it all up with one song? So I... I gave you them all.”

He presented the flash drive to her with a little bow, like he was presenting her with a grand treasure.

And really, he was.

Alex most certainly didn’t cry in front of the entire DEO that morning.

Certainly not.

But she did hug Winn hard enough to leave a mark, and when she pulled away, her tears were on his shirt.

It was one of the best hugs he’d ever had.

During the wedding, he and Kara danced with their sister and her new wife during most of the playlist.

But for some of the songs, they got up, and they sang for them.

“Um, ‘scuse me, everyone. Um. I know Alex and Maggie love this song -- the amount of times I’ve watched them make out to it at the bar is really upsetting, so much so that I had to beg M’gann and Darla to take it off their playlists.”

Everyone laughed, and M’gann and Darla held up their glasses in a toast to Winn. He lifted his imaginary glass higher and exchanged a grin with Kara.

“I mean, lesbihonest, those of you who’ve gone to the bar with Alex and Maggie know that I really could be talking about any song.”

“Here here!” James called softly, and Alex clung to Maggie while she leaned into James’s arms, laughing and blushing and crying all at once.

“But this song... this song is a special one. To me. Because this song is a story, more than anything. And I’ve... I’ve watched Alex and Maggie go through this story together. And I’m honored to watch them continue this story together. Alex, you... crap, I just lost a bet to James, I said I wouldn’t cry... I don’t know who I’d be without you. And Maggie, my favorite pool shark, I don’t know who I’d be without you, either. I always wanted a family. I met Kara, and found one. And now you’re part of it, and I... well, anyway. I’m gonna shut up and sing now.”

He cleared his throat and Kara took his hand and squeezed as she nodded to Lucy to start up on her guitar.

As she plucked out the first few notes of the song, an audible ‘awww’ rose through the crowd.

“I know, right?” Winn said softly into the microphone, and James made a note to talk to him about his natural performing talent later.

Soft laughter and Maggie’s tears mingled along with the first notes Winn sang.

“I met you in the dark,

you lit me up.

You made me feel as though I was enough.”

Kara took over in the next part of the song, and their voices joined during the bridge, and Alex and Maggie pulled each other closer as prompted, dancing with their foreheads together and tears on their faces.

But that wasn’t what made even J’onn cry.

Somewhere in the midst of the chorus, Alex found her own voice, and stared right into her wife’s arms, and sang.

And Maggie sobbed and shook smiled because she was so in love with Alex, too.

They both laughed quietly together at “I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head,” because, even they both went to kiss each other’s foreheads, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking: that Maggie’s coffee order is “gross.”

But that Alex loves her so much she’ll bring it to her, anyway.

That Maggie loves her so much that she got her coffee wearing nothing but boxers and Alex’s t-shirt, that first morning.

A lifetime of firsts.

Including this.

Including dancing at their wedding, surrounded by the people they loved most in the world, wrapped in the voices of Alex’s little sister and one of their best friends.

Wrapped in each other, forever and ever.

They thought -- both of them thought -- that they couldn’t possibly get more emotional than they had already.

Kara proved them wrong.

Because she took the microphone a little bit before the party wound down.

“Hey everyone. So I know I’ve made speeches and sang already, but I just have one more thing. Well, not really a thing, more like... um.” She glanced toward the door, looking for something or someone that Alex and Maggie couldn’t see. She must have seen what she wanted to, though, because she nodded with an excited glow in her eyes.

“Okay, so... Maggie, we’ve said it before, but I want to say it again: we love having you as part of this family. And you and Alex make an absolutely beautiful family.” Kara’s chest wracked in a soft, silent sob, and Alex almost went up to hug her sister, but Kara held out her hand and shook her head.

“I’m okay. I’m losing a bet to absolutely no one, though, because I would never have bet against my crying tonight.”

“Yeah, Schott,” Iris West teased, and Winn laughed harder than anyone.

“So like I was saying. You two make a beautiful family, a perfect family. But um... but I think there can never be too much beauty in this world, so I wanted... I wanted to add to it. I hope that’s okay. James?”

And she nodded at the door she’d been looking at before. James strolled through with an enormous grin and and enormous dog.

“No,” Maggie whispered, tears pooling already.

“Kara, you didn’t,” Alex dropped to her knees, because even though she said one thing, she already knew to answer.

James guided the pup to them steadily, his camera at the ready in one of his hands.

“I did,” Kara said into the mic. “She’s a retired police pup, and she needed a home, and I thought who better? And no, Alex, you can’t rename her Gertrude. You’re welcome, Maggie.”

Both of them barely heard Kara as they let their new family member sniff them, get comfortable with them. Lean forward and lick their faces immediately.

“Kara,” Alex whispered as she felt Kara approaching behind her. “Thank you.”

She leaned into her sister even as her hands met Maggie’s over their pup’s fur.

“Only the best for the best couple I know,” Kara whispered, kissing Alex’s temple with a wet smile and a soaring heart.

#sanvers #sanvers wedding #sanvers minific #sanvers fluff #sanverspositivity

75 notes · View notes