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dykefoosh · 3 years

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It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

#dsmp transcript #transcript #jack manifold #c!jack #big manifold hotel #c!niki #c!tubbo #c!tommy #dsmp #lmanburg #manifold land

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kaimelia · 3 years

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Paper Rings (Ch. 9)

a/n: hi! the next chapter will be more exciting, I promise, but I hope you enjoy this one!

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She knew the day would come eventually. He’d mentioned it when they started dating and she knew the day was coming closer, but now, sitting on their bed and watching as he packed clothes into a suitcase, she felt upset. He was leaving that night, as the baseball season was starting, and the Mariners had their first away game the next week. It’d been easy to handle when practices first started, Link was just gone for longer than she was used to, but she still got to see him. “It’s only a week,” he told her, folding his shirts neatly, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, but then it’s another week, and another week after that.” She pouted her lip out, grabbing one of the shirts and holding it to her chest. “I’m gonna be all alone.” He laughed, taking the shirt from her.

“I’ll call you every night, I promise. You can even go stay at Meredith’s if you want.” He shut the suitcase, zipping it closed. “You’re still driving me to the airport, right?” She nodded, placing her hands behind her and leaning back onto them.

“Yup.” Link watched as she signed, frowning at the suitcase he placed on the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just feel like we’re finally in a good place, living together, spending all of our time together, and now you’re leaving.”

“I’m not really leaving, just going away for a little bit.” She was still frowning as he sat down on the bed next to her, reaching over to hold her hand. “You can come to some away games with me. Get away from Seattle, spend the week in a hotel room,” his voice trailed off as she smiled.

“I’d like that.” He leaned over, placing his hand under her chin and tilting her head upwards until their lips met in a slow kiss. “You know,” she whispered, placing her hand on the hem of his shirt, “we have a few hours before we need to leave.”

“Plenty of time.”

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Amelia spent the first hour without him cleaning the apartment, fixing the mess that had been created by his last-minute packing. She remade the bed and pulled on one of his sweatshirts, grinning after seeing herself in the mirror, her figure completely consumed by the fabric. She waited another two hours before calling him just to receive no answer, leaving her feeling slightly dejected and she resorted to laying on the couch and reading. He called her back an hour later.

“I miss you,” she admitted as she answered the phone, curling into the couch and wrapping the worn blanket around her body. He smiled through the phone screen and splashed some water from the bathroom sink onto his face.

“I’ve been gone for a few hours, and you already miss me?” She grinned at the sight of the smirk on his face, watching as he picked up his toiletry bag and set it down on the counter. “Are you wearing my hoodie?” She nodded as a blush crept onto her face.

“I was going to do laundry, but then I found this one, and it smells like you. I didn’t want to wash it, not yet. I need something to hold onto when you’re not here,” she muttered, tugging at the strings of the hoodie. “How’d practice go?”

“It was fine, but the team’s nervous. I had more work than normal.” He washed his face quickly, drying it with the towel. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. We were just leaving from practice.”

“It’s okay.”

“How are your first few hours alone going?” Amelia shrugged, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt down.

“Lonely. Angry that you made me fall in love with you and then you just leave me,” she joked, standing up from the couch. “Pizza’s here. Give me a minute.” She set down the phone to go answer the door, paying for the food and returning to the kitchen.

“Are you going to get takeout every night?”

“Probably. I have no motivation to cook anything.” Amelia opened the box, sitting down at the kitchen island, and placing it onto the counter.

“Also, I didn’t leave you.”

“No, you just made me feel like a teenage girl. I can’t even go a few hours without missing my boyfriend.” She took a bite of pizza. “Did you have a fancy dinner?” Link shook his head, walking out of the bathroom in his hotel room.

“Nah, we had pizza, too. The staff gets to eat whatever we want during practices.”

“Mm, you’re a fancy Major League doctor and we have the same dinner.” She smiled as he pulled off his shirt. “Are you going to strip for me now?” He shook his head and laughed, his hair falling out of place before he brushed it back.

“Some other time, I need to go shower. Should I call you after, or are you going to be asleep?” Amelia paused for a moment in thought, closing the lid of the pizza box.

“I’ll probably be sleeping, I have to work in the morning. Send me your schedule, so I know when I can call you. I need some semblance of our relationship to hold on to.”

“Of course.”

“Come home soon,” she whispered, laying back into the bed.

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

#amelia shepherd #Atticus Lincoln #amelink #amelia x link #amelink fanfic #amelink fanfiction #grey's anatomy #greys abc #greys fanfic #my fics

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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A New World of All of Us

There's a lone inn that stands in the middle of nowhere, once a place for those on pilgrimage to rest during a leg of their journey. But few speak the name of the Goddess anymore...

Two travelers come by, unfamiliar, but with a dog. But a customer was a customer.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Noishe, Original Characters Rating: PG Chapters: 1 of 3 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week, Day 6: Let's go explore the new world together! I suddenly wanted to write a story with OCs, but with Lloyd and Colette being the main focus still! So, this is what came of it, and it's not complete yet! But there is a first chapter of hopefully just three altogether. If you read and enjoy, please let me know! And thank you everyone for Colloyd Week this year!

For the inn that was placed on the crossroads leading between Iselia and Triet, many still called it a House of Salvation whenever they passed by the structure.

It wasn’t such a surprise as to why they still did- for ever since it was claimed by the new owners, they hadn’t done much changes to its original architecture. It still maintained its two stories, shaped like a pillar, with a great open area inside on the first floor. Where once the symbols of Martel would be decorated along the walls with banners and silk, where the humble statue of Spiritua would be placed on the small prayer dais in the front, with mats on the floor to cushion a worshipper’s knees, it was now just a general dining area for visitors, with an innkeeper’s counter placed to the side. The prayer alcove had been converted to a delicacy stand, selling the innkeeper’s homemade treats they had baked for the day.

Upstairs were still the rooms for the weary to rest, once mainly meant for those on a pilgrimage. But many didn’t really go on pilgrimages anymore – none but the very devout few, who still believed in the Goddess that now watched over a newly remade world.

Mara didn’t really think much about that really. Seeing the time as the sun lowered in the sky, she stepped out of the barely renovated inn, a broom in hand, and proceeded to sweep up the dirt on their front steps. But the broom was a little too tall for her, and she struggled to keep it elevated just right as she went about her task. She also hadn’t done the laundry recently, so her dress was a mixture of dust and polka-dots, and her boots were scuffed from the mud from a few days back when she had to handle a few maintenance tasks in the rain.

Then again, business had been slow these days, and it wasn’t like there were patrons around to keep up appearances for…

And her brother hadn’t been back for many hours. He had left this morning for the nearest town, and already it was practically sunset, the horizon letting her know with its orange glow. “I should have gone with him,” she muttered to herself, pushing out the broom in an odd angle that nearly made her lose her balance. She squeaked, held onto a nearby fence railing, feeling the slow burn of embarrassment flood her face. “And he needs to get me a new broom too…”

She might only have been half as embarrassed as she was, if not for hearing the voice that was, apparently, not too far off. “Uh, excuse me? Kid?”

Mara had only been lucky enough to cut off her own terrified shriek, clutching at her broom like a weapon as she turned. In front of her, the man that had called out to her held up both hands – and they looked to be very red hands? “Whoa, sorry! I… I was just checking if you were open!”

Ah. Damn. She had done it again. She had nearly scared away another customer.

“Hold on! I mean… welcome to the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Where we accept hands of all kinds from all walks of life!” She had said that way…way too loud. Mara did all she could to not wince from all that blunder that came out of her mouth. “Have you seen our pamphlets in town?”

“Huh? Uh, no not really…” Even though this guy was clearly unsure about the whole situation… he wasn’t exactly backing away! Mara tried to take that as a good sign. “Just happen to know this place from a few years back… This is an inn now, right?” He pointed at the sign that was hanging off the front, the hinge off the left just a tad bit lopsided. “Is it alright if we stayed?”

Mara opened her mouth to shout a resounding YES to his question. Then she looked at him for just a bit longer, trying to determine his age, coming up with maybe in his mid-twenties or so… The red hands she had been seeing was from the gloves he wore (instead of being really badly sunburned like she’d been thinking), which matched with the red of his outfit, at least from what she could tell. He wore a brown traveling cloak that was clasped at the collar, nearly reaching his feet. From his motions, she could hear the familiar clinking of metal – weapons, she gathered. A mercenary? Or was he a bandit?

But then, she figured he’d try to be a little more subtle with his weapons if he was coming here to steal her gald under the pretenses of being a customer… His hair was also a bit unkempt, waves of russet hair that under the setting sun, seemed to turn into a darker red if she squinted at it just so. There was only just the hint of stubble on his chin, his missed days of shaving catching up to him.

Then she thought about what he said. “Pardon, who’s we?” She didn’t see anyone with him…

“Oh, me and my friend!” He smiled at her the moment he mentioned said friend, as if a light had just been turned on in the vicinity. “And our dog. Do you allow dogs here?”

“Of course!” she said immediately. “We get strays around here all the time anyway.” Too much, sometimes. Also, her brother wasn’t exactly fond of such strays for a certain reason, if she could just remember why…

“Great!” With that, the man in red turned, put both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Heeey!! It’s all good!!”

Huh. Maybe this guy was a bit stranger than she thought. Well, she had already invited him to stay so there was nothing she could do. I probably should have asked if he had money first….

When she started wondering if he was calling in backup of other bandits to rob her blind, she saw the figure he was calling for. Someone who was just in the distance, half-hidden in shadows by the setting sun. From where she stood, it looked like a horse-rider, and as said horse seemed to gallop forward, its rider waved back happily.

The man waved back so strongly, enough to nearly knock off the cloak from his shoulder. Mara raised an eyebrow. Why did he act like he hadn’t seen this person in forever?

As the figure got closer, she barely could see much else at all. They were dressed in the same brown cloak as the man but it covered them from head to toe, complete with a hood that was pulled over their head. All Mara could make out were the white gloves they wore, which held lightly onto the mane of the horse they rode.

“Hello, I hope we’re not intruding,” they finally said. The voice was soft, slightly higher-pitched – and by then, Mara saw the stray locks of blonde hair as they fell out of the hood. She had been so entranced by the figure that she hadn’t noticed the horse they rode until it was basically in front of her.

It then started to…whine?

Wait, that wasn’t a horse! Mara blinked, looking at the creature with its snout, its overly large ears that fanned out from the sides of its face, its fur with varying shades of green. It was a… what was it?

“Noishe here doesn’t bite,” the man said with a grin, ruffling the creature’s fur, unmindful to the giant ears that looked as if they would whack him across the face at any moment. “He’s a real good dog.”

Mara blinked. “Excuse me. Dog?” She glanced at the creature, noting those familiar features, yet… “That’s a dog.”

“Yep! Would you like to pet him?” spoke the figure – the woman, she finally figured – who still sat atop the dog. Who rides a dog?!

“I’m… I’m fine.” Mara still held her broom, half defensively, even though one end of it was dangerously close to unbalancing herself again. “Well, lucky for your…dog… we have the stables already cleaned out, so you can settle it there.”

“Thanks.” The man grinned, hands on his knees as he peered down at her from his height. She mentally groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Hey, so, are your parents around?”

Yes, of course this always happens, doesn’t it?

“And why would you want to know that?” she countered back.

This predictably threw the guy for a loop, making him blink and stare dumbfounded for a solid five seconds. “Well, it’s kinda scary for kids to be by themselves, you know? And we wanted to ask the owners of this place a few things.”

“You’re looking at her.” Okay, co-owner, but it was still the truth.

He blinked again. “Huh?”

“I’m not a kid.” Mara frowned, standing up tall. “I’m eighteen years old!”

The guy scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously. “I mean… you kinda still are…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Owner,” said the lady from behind him. She had dismounted from her dog (?) and finally pulled down her hood. Mara held her breath when she saw how the woman had a cascade of golden hair that was arranged in a braid, turned darker by the setting sun, and nearly reaching her waist.

Something about her also seemed… different to Mara, the way she smiled, or the curve of it, at least. She felt a sense of elegance from her, and wondered if maybe she was one of those priests from years back. But the Church of Martel’s influence had waned over the years, and most of its clergy had long abandoned the cloth with the appearance of Tethe’alla.

“My name is Colette,” said the woman, subtly breaking the silence. “Is it okay to ask for your name?”

Mara considered, then nodded. It was nice for some people to have manners here. “I’m Mara. I run this inn with my brother, whose getting us food for tonight’s dinner. I can promise you two a warm meal in a bit if you stay.” Then she pointedly looked at the man. “And be sure to treat me with respect like any adult!”

She was pleased to see the man looked thoroughly embarrassed, still scratching away at that itch on his scalp. “Ehe… Sorry.” A gentle nudge from the woman named Colette startled him for a moment, before his worried face was replaced with a big grin. “Oh yeah, and my name’s Lloyd! Thanks for having us.”

Remember to be nice to people. She could hear her brother’s words in her head and tried her best to cut off any tones of snark in her voice. “Not any trouble. We’re happy you’ve chosen us at the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Now come right this way!” She winced again, seeing the somewhat stunned look on the others faces. She always went overboard like this, or just be grumpy to people otherwise…

After getting the dog to lay somewhat comfortably in the hay (and the woman insisting on giving the giant weird-looking dog a few belly scratches on the tummy), she finally led them inside through the double doors, warning to watch their step on the stoop of the entrance. It was always higher than expected, and she’d had to mentally train herself to hop over it every time or risk a little stumble.

The guy named Lloyd followed her example, deftly hopping over the stoop. The woman named Colette deftly did not.

Mara felt as if she watched Colette’s fall in slow-motion, hearing her startled yell, seeing the way she flailed her arms, which made the cloak around her flutter like a pair of burlap wings – revealing a stark-white outfit that she was wearing underneath – and then fall flat on her face against the floorboards.

Any impression of elegance Mara felt from her instantly went flying out the window.

Lloyd rushed to her side, grasping Colette by her arm. “Colette! You alright?”

“Ehe…” Colette raised her head to Lloyd, already a bruise forming on her forehead. Mara had to wince at that. Ouch. “Sorry. Guess I tripped again.”

“That looked like it really hurt,” he commented, pulling her up gently, their boots making the floor creak.

“Kind of, yeah…”

“Uh, I can get you some ice and a salve for that bruise, miss,” Mara helpfully offered, realizing soon that maybe she should. And since it was their inn that this had happened, she didn’t want any weird legal matters happening.

“That’s okay, I’ll just sleep it off,” Colette said, smiling gently again – just now with a little bump on her forehead. It kinda ruined the effect…

“Yeah, and we got plenty of apple gels to help!” Lloyd looked strangely proud about that, but once he turned back to Colette, his expression went back to concern. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Oh, wait-” Now back to Mara with questioning eyes. “Uh, is it still just one room up there?”

He said that so specifically that Mara was caught off guard from it. It was true that this place had only one room upstairs, fitted with multiple beds to house people in need of rest. They had kept meaning to put some walls in, or at least dividers, but they never really had time for it. “Yes! It’s just at the top of the stairs. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Thanks.” The guy gave her a thumbs up (How weird) and then led Colette up the stairs, their cloaks the last thing Mara saw as they ascended. She thought she also saw Colette’s face continually looking towards downstairs, especially to the dining area specifically.

Once they were out of sight, and she heard the door click softly, she remembered something very important.

Crap, she thought, tightening her hands on the broom she was still holding for some reason. I forgot to ask them to pay…

“Is it really not okay to look around there?”

“Maybe not yet… Don’t want to weird that kid out - and he’s not here anyway. Maybe we can try at dinner. Also… you really should rest that bump of yours.” A small laugh. “Sorry I didn’t catch you.”

“It’s okay. My clumsiness is supposed to be lucky, remember? Maybe this means we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“Heh, you know, you’re right!” A creaking of the bed as someone on it, followed by the sound of shuffling, like someone rummaging through a pack. “Got the apple gels here. You should have some.”

“Okay. Can you feed them to me?” Followed by a light giggle.

A sigh, but there was laughter in it, warm and sweet. “You dork.”

When Tavi finally neared the inn, it was with labored breathing, his legs rushing fast across the roads. On his back, he lugged a heavy satchel filled with day-old bread, hastily preserved meat and cheese, along with a few spare gels and any other foodstuff that he could get at a bargain. He tried to keep it steady with his left hand, grasping at one of the straps on his shoulder, making sure it didn’t tilt and carry him down with it.

In his right hand, he held onto the hilt of his sheathed sword. His Exsphere glinted from the shine of the twin moons overhead, seemed to burn from where it was set, just beneath his knuckles.

The attacks on the roadsides had been more frequent lately.

Tavi was at least fast when he needed to be, hoping he had lost his pursuers along the way. A quick shift into a thicket of trees, using what little magic he knew to sweep away his footprints, and his sharp ears could finally just hear the soft chirping of crickets at his feet, the rustle of soft wings as they flapped above him.

As long as they didn’t know where he was headed… they’d be fine. They would have to be.

The inn was a welcome sight to him, looking strangely so pastoral in the nighttime. The paint on its right side was peeling off, and the lower awning that stretched just beneath the second floor was eaten away by mildew, but all in all… it wasn’t half-bad of a place.

He only slowed down his run to a light jog, sword slightly rattling against his leg as he did so, when he saw something using the stables they had. But it was covered in shadow, possibly sleeping inside. There was fresh hay and the trough was filled with water. Was Mara taking in stray cats again? Much of the felines liked to roam the woods near their inn, sometimes curling up on the roof, mewling out into the night. Though now, it was rather quiet…

Shaking his head, he then quickly sprinted to the inn once he saw how close he was. He pushed open the double doors, deftly hopping over the little out-of-line step with ease as he did so.

He was then met with a broom to the face.

“By the Goddess, Tavi!” Mara shouted, hopping on one foot as she jerked back the broom before she did any more damage. “You can at least knock to let me know you’re here!”

“Can you not tell it’s me by now?” he argued, spitting out a few broom bristles from his mouth. “You’re so jumpy.”

“I think I have every right to be?” spoke his sister. “You never consider how I feel.”

Though older than him by two years, she was much shorter than him, just coming up to the middle of his chest. She had a head of green hair cut just at the chin, yet still covering up her ears. In her polka-dotted apron and big boots that looked like they should belong to a blacksmith instead of a small innkeeper, she was always quite a strange sight to see.

He shook his head at her with a laugh. “At least help me with the groceries, I’m about to break my back in half from all this.” He played up the struggle as he slowly removed the satchel, bemoaning all the while. “Treat your elders right!”

“I’m older than you! Enough with that joke!”

Tavi grinned, but Mara had laid her broom against the counter to reach up for the foodstuff and promptly walked away to the kitchen. “We we have customers now. I’ll have to make them dinner too.”

As Tavi tried to tie back his long red hair, he paused in mid-action, then rounded on Mara. “What? Right now?” He groaned. “I didn’t buy enough to feed more than us! How many are there?!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to tighten your belt!” Mara wagged a finger at him. “Besides, it’s just two of them. They seem pretty harmless, and we need the money! They’ve been up in their room for the past hour, so don’t go waltzing upstairs right now.”

Then she pointed that wagging finger at his hand. “And you’ll need to hide that. Or are you forgetting to do that while in town?”

Tavi instinctively place his other hand over the Exsphere, feeling a strange sense of self-consciousness. “I know. I just… got it torn off by a tree branch earlier while I walked.” He wasn’t lying when he said that either.

Maybe Mara suspected, maybe she worried… But instead she walked back into the kitchen, hefting the satchel more easily than her height would seem to say. “Oh, and they have a dog too. A really big one at that, just so you know.”

Tavi choked on his own spit, glaring at Mara once more. “Mara, did you just forget that I’m allergic to dogs?”

At the door to the kitchen, Mara stopped. She turned back to him slowly. “I did actually.”

“Please, Mara…”

“Just don’t go near it! It’s outside now anyway, and they’ll be gone by morning I’m sure.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. At the very least, there was no dog fur near him. “Fine. I’ll be by for dinner,” he said, then headed for one of his own rooms that was to the right of the main alcove of the building – which was more of a storage room that he had converted into his very own.

He figured he’d have to look nice for his guests, and picked up an old mirror that needed a good cleaning, trying to fix up the messy locks of red hair that had been tousled everywhere during his run.

With how tall he was, his lanky frame, and his own bright hair compared to Mara’s, no one would have ever taken them both to be brother and sister. Not unless one happened to catch the subtle points of their ears.

He made sure, as he combed his hair, to cover that part of himself. Better to be safe than stabbed, he thought wryly.

Noishe, in his pen, scrabbled at the hay to make himself comfortable. Some of the water from the trough had spilled over as he lapped it earlier, so he made sure to gather the drier parts of the hay to rest on comfortably.

It had been a long couple of weeks of travel, and he was looking forward to rest. But even Noishe knew he might not get that tonight…

From his position, he poked out his head from the stable, hearing the door shut suddenly. He raised his head up to the windows, seeing the light flicker out quickly inside. Only by the moon could he see the shape of familiar faces, familiar hands.

He remembered Lloyd’s hurried look from earlier, Colette’s soft words of reassurance. It had been tough recently, but always they had each other. In the light of the morning, he’d never seen smiles as bright as theirs.

They deserved a good night’s rest, too.

Still, Noishe kept his ears up as he settled on the hay, remembering the hurried footsteps from the stranger. Maybe, at the very least, the early evening could have some calmness before the storm.

#tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #multi chapter

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

Gratitude

A/N When we last saw Jamie and Claire, they’d crashed, burned (somewhat literally) and declared their mutual interest in each other in their individual ways. Whither now, our pair?

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Big Red Machine (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

June 1, 2018, Costa Coffee, Whitechapel, London, England

“It feels like ye might be avoiding me, Sassenach.”

It occurred to her that Jamie knew her schedule and habits to an uncomfortable degree for him to be at her favourite coffee shop at exactly the point in her shift when she could no longer resist the siren call of caffeine.

Since the fire in their building and Jamie’s subsequent profession of love, they’d been living under separate roofs. Claire was sleeping on the couch at the home of one of her fellow medical students, and Jamie was bunking down with his uncle. Their flat had escaped the flames, suffering only smoke damage, but it would be at least eight weeks before the building was declared structurally sound and they could move back in.

Heading to the counter, Claire purchased her usual extra-large oat milk cortado with a fruited teacake, then added a flat black with raw sugar for Jamie. Settling across from him, she slid his coffee across the tiny table before splitting her teacake and balancing half on his saucer. He nodded his thanks, but was otherwise silent, waiting her out.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she began, surprising them both with the frankness of her opening salvo. It helped, she found, to be paying undue attention to stirring her coffee as she spoke.

“That doesna sound like ye, mo nighean donn. Why don’t ye tell me what part is vexin’ ye, an’ we can see if we canna bash our brains t’gether til we come up wi’ a plan, aye?”

She knew what he was doing. Cleverly depersonalizing their situation so that she could approach it like any other problem. Part of her resented his easy manipulation, grounded as it was in how well he knew her. But there was a secret part of her that thrilled at the emotional intimacy. To be seen, truly seen, in all her messy complexity, was a novel experience. Jamie knew the architecture of her heart, all its dark corners and blind hallways. He must have recognized something worthy, to be willing to so patiently coax her away from her solitude.

Plus, she’d spent the last year training him to leave the toilet seat down. That wasn’t the sort of work you just walked away from.

“It’s... god, where do I start? It’s having no idea what it means to be in a healthy adult relationship. And the crippling fear that if I fuck this up, it’ll ruin our friendship, which is so important to me, Jamie. I don’t think you have any idea... Plus our living situation...”

“We arenna livin’ t’gether for the moment, Sassenach,” Jamie interrupted. He had leaned forward across the table as she stammered through her recitation, and his curls had flopped across his brow in that boyish way they had. Her chest tightened, torn between affection and blind terror.

“No. That’s true.”

“With yer permission, I’d like tae make a suggestion.” At her cautious nod, Jamie continued. “For the next two months, we willna be roommates. I’d like tae... court ye...”

“Court me?!” Claire blurted out. “What, like in a Jane Austen novel?” She couldn’t help but smile at Jamie as he blushed, but he continued undeterred.

“Aye, like that. Ye’re used tae havin’ all the answers, Sassenach, but this isna one of yer wee tests tha’ ye can study for. We’re gonna have tae wing it, and see where it takes us. But I promise ye, I willna play ye false and I willna walk away. Will ye at least give this thing between us a chance? If it doesna work, we can go back tae livin’ t’gether as friends, no questions asked.”

At some point during his speech, their hands had met across the table. She could feel Jamie’s trembling through his fingertips. He was scared too, but he was being brave because he felt it was worth the risk. How could she dare to do otherwise?

“Alright,” she conceded, and his smile warmed her face like sunshine. “What do you propose, then? Shall I don my best parlour gown and set out the petit fours, Master Fraser?”

“Och, I dinna mean tae be makin’ me call me master quite yet, Sassenach,” he teased, delighting in her blush. “I’ll be at yer door t’morrow. Three sharp. Wear somethin’ comfortable an’ bring a jumper for after dark.”

Finishing his teacake in three large bites, Jamie hopped up from his seat and brushed the crumbs from his jeans. With a mischievous grin and a cock-eyed wink, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“Until tomorrow then, milady.”

Jesus Christ, what had she just done?

***

To her relief, Jamie showed up at Joe’s front door in his usual jeans and Henley, not a frock coat and jodhpurs He wasn’t even carrying flowers. Joe tried to buttonhole him with talk of the previous night’s football match, but after a few minutes of polite chitchat Jamie ushered Claire out the door, joking that he’d have her home before curfew.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his behaviour. The Jamie she knew had always been charming, when he wasn’t busy putting his foot in his mouth. Now she marveled at his apparent ease as they descended the steps into the Tube.

Heading west on the District Line, thoughts continued to assail her. Was he always this self-confident on a date? How often did he go out with other women, anyway? She’d assumed she knew everything there was to know about Jamie, but maybe she was wrong. Before Frank, her last date had been back in nursing school, and a VHS player and copious cheap beer had been involved. Despite the over-zealous air conditioning in their train, her palms began to sweat.

“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, Claire,” Jamie’s soft burr interrupted her quiet panic attack. “I’m no’ going tae suddenly turn into some man ye dinna recognize, just because I’m tryin’ tae romance ye a wee bit.”

Once again, with only a few words Jamie had peeled away her layers of confusion and doubt to strike at the core of what was bothering her. She forced herself to take a deep breath and immediately recognized Jamie’s scent; a blend of laundry detergent, his vetiver bar soap, and a touch of chlorine left over from the morning’s swim. It set her at ease. He hadn’t worn cologne. His left boot had a frayed lace that had needed changing since March. His cuticles were as inexplicably perfectly formed as always. He was her Jamie, and she could trust him to behave in accordance with what she already knew of him, even in this uncharted territory.

“So, where exactly are we going?” she asked after the crackling announcement for St. James Park had died away.

“Would it ease yer mind a wee bit, tae ken?”

“Maybe a wee bit,” she confessed.

“Well, then, how can I refuse? Have ye e’er been tae the Chelsea Physic Garden, Sassenach?”

***

As it turned out, by some grievous oversight she hadn’t. Wedged between a high brick wall and the Thames was a three hundred and fifty year old urban oasis, filled with plants that could either treat your ailments or kill you. Naturally, she was enchanted. Jamie followed her between the beds and down the shaded lanes of pea gravel, a soft smile held between his lips.

When the garden closed, they walked along the Embankment and over the Thames at Chelsea Bridge, stopping to watch the sun set over the murky water. A food truck beckoned with its aroma of chips and burgers, which they ate on a nearby bench, going back for extra napkins when their choice in toppings proved especially messy.

It was the least romantic meal she’d ever eaten, and she was soothed and smitten in equal measure.

Washing grease from his hands in a drinking fountain, Jamie turned to her in the half-light.

“Now, I have a verra important question of ye, Sassenach, and how ye answer will determine the future course of our evening t’gether.”

Here it was, she balked. The hook at the end of the line. The sour amongst so much sweetness. She shouldn’t have expected...

“Are ye,” Jamie continued, unaware of her inner monologue, “afraid of heights?”

... no different than any other man, with his...

“Am I what?” she blurted, once her brain caught up with her ears.

“Afraid of heights? An’ a bit of a scamper up some scaffolding?”

Jamie was pointing over her shoulder. She peered into the night, but all she could make out was the hulking shadow of the derelict Battersea Power Station.

***

It was a convoluted story, but the outline went something like this: the massive coal-fired station, with its four spire-like chimneys, was slated for redevelopment. Jamie had taken part in an onsite review of the location by the London Fire Service, and had befriended a representative of the developer. Somehow, this friend had granted Jamie access to the site, which is how Claire now found herself over fifty metres above the ground, climbing a seemingly endless series of metal steps, with her curls trying to escape the confines of a workman’s hard hat.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time, Jamie Fraser,” she grumbled as they came to a landing made out of scaffolding. Above them, a white chimney ascended into the dome of the sky.

“Ye canna say I dinna take yer breath away, Sassenach,” he teased.

She was about to retort when they stepped around the base of the chimney tower, and all words failed her.

Rolled out far below their feet, the Thames was a black carpet reflecting millions of pinpoint gems skyward, broken by belts of light where it was traversed by a bridge. Beyond the eastern bend in the river, the City glowed with its eternal hum. The colossal space taken up by the station was a palpable presence behind their backs.

“It reminds me of yer Uncle Lamb’s saying, about makin’ our present out of the bones of our past. Twasn’t the original plan, but here she stands, still vital and strong, being remade anew. An’ a beautiful vision fer all tha’.”

She wasn’t convinced that Jamie was talking about the power station.

A cool breeze blew off the river, and she shivered. A jacket still warm with body heat immediately covered her shoulders. They stood side by side in silence, just taking in the view.

When their hands bumped, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to thread her fingers with his own.

“You’ve set the bar impossibly high for any future dates, you know,” she commented eventually.

“Ye’re only sayin’ that because ye dinna ken what I have planned next.” His grin was impossibly smug, and she fought the urge to kiss it right off his beautiful mouth. He must have read the impulse in her eyes, because his face was slowly approaching her own, eyes a volatile mix of hope and trepidation.

Her own eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. Just as their lips should have been meeting, their was a ductile crunch, and their heads bounced apart with comedic timing. Their hard helmets had collided. Jamie swore softly beneath his breath, but Claire couldn’t stop giggling.

“Oh, thank god. It is you. I was beginning to wonder.”

***

It was late when they finally exited the Tube, but Jamie insisted on accompanying Claire all the way to the Abernathy’s front door. She handed him back his leather jacket, feeling suddenly awkward in the brightly lit hall. The date had been magical, far beyond her wildest expectations, and it felt strange to return to the prosaic reality of their lives.

“Thank you for a wonderful time, Jamie.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach. I’ve missed ye, these past few weeks. And I really hope... well, you’ll tell me if you want to do somethin’ like this again, aye?” His hand went to the back of his neck in a gesture she knew well. Bless the man, he had no idea the effect he had on her. It was well past time to let him know.

“I’d love that. Truly. I’ve got final exams to study for, but maybe sometime next week?”

"Well then,” he replied, clearly delighted with her response. “I should let ye get some sleep. Good luck on yer exams, Sassenach. And thank ye, fer bein’ willing tae give this a chance. Twas a day I’ll ne’er forget.”

He began to walk away.

“Jamie!” He turned around.

“Aye?”

Walking forward to the beat of her pounding heart, she halted when their bellies were practically touching. Lifting up on tiptoe, she pressed into his mouth. Time slowed to a syrupy drip as their lips met for the first time. His rough exhale was the only sound in the cocoon of sensation that enveloped them. It felt like she was falling through an endless cloud. Too soon, she had to pull away to capture her breath, and the spell was broken. Judging by his moonstruck expression, Jamie had been equally affected. She smiled when she realized his arms were still held aloft, like he was trying to hold on to the memory of their kiss.

“Goodnight, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser,” she purred before she disappeared from his sight.

#my writing #outlander

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Note

For the most recent prompts, no. 35 with peraltiago?

I’d love to! 🌟 Here’s a little something for 35: “Your stray red item turned my whites pink.”

love, in full colour

Today was turning out to be a pretty great Sunday for Amy, as she stretches her legs out on her boyfriend Jake’s surprisingly comfortable couch and presses play on the documentary he had so sweetly recorded for her. Weekends off had always been a favourite of hers, but if there’s anything that the past nine months has told her, it's that weekends off when you’re dating Jake Peralta are just so much better.

She had woken up this morning to Jake’s familiar sleepy cuddles, morning stubble scratching against her skin and sending tingles up and down her spine as his arms wrapped around her waist, convincing her in approximately 2.3 seconds that sleeping in definitely wasn’t such a bad thing (especially when it eventually leads to … other things). It had been a long week; made all the longer by a perp that had decided to play cat and mouse with the detectives of the nine-nine, and even after they’d stumbled out of bed and toasted bagels for breakfast, Amy genuinely didn’t have any desire to have a day any more productive than TV, blankets, and (most importantly), Jake.

It had been close to half an hour ago that he’d slipped out of the apartment for the second time, basket in hand as he’d headed back down to the laundry room to collect the washing he’d put on earlier. Rebuffing her offers of help with a swift kiss to her lips, he’d simply reminded Amy of the program ready and waiting for her, throwing out a “Love you!” as he’d headed for the door, and honestly if Amy’s Sunday hadn’t already been looking great, that moment right there just absolutely topped it.

(It’s been months since they’d started saying it - those three little words that had seemed so terrifying but actually were up there with her favourite phrases ever - but they still managed to spark a tiny ball of happiness inside her every single time the words came out of Jake’s mouth. She supposes that this is what love is, really - sour candy flavoured kisses and laughter in the darkness - and she’s so thankful that she found it in Jake.)

The documentary has been playing for ten or so minutes before Amy’s index finger begins hovering over the pause button, one part still interested in the manufacturing process of the world’s oldest brass instruments, and one (slightly louder) part feeling strangely empty without her boyfriend’s warm chest to rest up against. (Even though she knows he would spending the entire program playing on his phone, there’s something about his presence that just makes everything … better.)

Amy’s still in Consideration Mode when she hears Jake’s key slide into the lock, and it’s ridiculous how big her smile begins to get, but as she tips her face up to catch his eyes her lips falter on their ascent.

There’s an obvious air of frustration surrounding him as he skulks past her, holding the plastic basket close to his hip as he heads towards the bed on the other side of his loft-style apartment. It bounces slightly against the recently remade duvet as Jake dumps the contents onto the mattress, his frustrations quickly bubbling to the surface, and without hesitation Amy forgoes the remote control, standing quickly to join her boyfriend by his bed.

“Everything okay?”

He nods, letting out a soft grunt as he half-heartedly starts folding the newly cleaned clothes, and honestly Amy is trying not to pay attention to his folding technique, but her fingers are just itching to take over. There’s still a slight pout on his face, small enough for her to pick up on, and it takes precedent over any Kondo-like techniques that she might be dying to demonstrate. “You sure?”

Jake gives her another nod, followed quickly by a shrug. “I mean, there’s one little problem with the laundry that I don’t know how to fix, but … it’s no biggie.”

“A problem with your laundry?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, balling up the t-shirt in his hand before dropping it back into the pile, using his free hand to run through his hair, which has just started to get long enough to curl. “Turns out there was a stray item of yours that was in my laundry. I mean, there were a few things, and that makes total sense, but there was one item in particular - a red item, actually - that I think might be the culprit.”

“The culprit?”

“So … I might not have noticed have been paying close attention when I transferred everything to the dryer, and well …” he lifts up a pair of socks, similar to the ones he wore to bed last week except now they were a deep pink, and Amy tries her best to stifle her giggle. “There’s like … another three pairs just like it,” he adds with a mumble.

“But! May I present to you, detective: the guilty party.” Transferring the socks to his left, his right hand digs through the pile before pulling out a lacy red bra that Amy may have recently bought purely on the knowledge that it was one of Jake’s favourite colours on her.

(To be fair, he might have told her that all of the colours were his favourite colours on her, but she’s definitely seen a positive response to the colour red in the past.)

“Alleged guilty party, thank you very much,” Amy begins, grinning to take the edge off of her response. “Plus, you didn’t seem to mind that bra so much last night, if I recall correctly.”

She reaches for the offending item, and Jake’s fingers tighten around the lace, holding her bra close to his chest, and she giggles at his reflexive response. “Despite my flinging it across the room, I can confirm that I did - and DO - indeed love it. Almost as much as I love the person who was wearing it.”

Her cheeks begin to turn the same colour as the socks in her boyfriend’s hand, and Amy cocks her head to the side. “I love you too, babe. So … what’s the problem you can’t figure out? If it’s the pink you’re worried about, a bit of bleach will get that right out.”

“Huh?” He lifts his hand up, glancing at the item that Amy is pointing to. “Oh. Nah. I don’t care about the colour. You and I both know that I would rock this pink. I can already tell it’s going to highlight my ankles in the perfect way. Really accentuate my curves, you know? I just ..”

Even before they were something more than partners, Amy could see through Jake’s ‘make a joke to conceal how I’m really feeling about something’ technique, and today is no exception. Taking the smallest of steps closer to him, she softens her voice ever so slightly. “Jake?”

His shoulders slump to the floor, and his right hand releases her lingerie. “I just … I feel so stupid. I’m trying to be the perfectly domesticated boyfriend, a responsible adult who cleans up after himself and doesn’t leave empty pizza boxes everywhere.” His eyes drop to the floor briefly before flicking back up to meet hers, and the sincerity in his gaze cuts Amy to the quick. “You know, the kinda guy that doesn’t need supervising in the laundry room, or whatever.” His hand closes tightly around the socks before dropping it back into the pile, and when he looks back up at Amy she can see the disappointment stretched across his face. “And obviously, I completely failed. I wasn’t going to say anything, but .. I dunno, I guess maybe I don’t want to keep things from you or something.”

In all honesty, Amy’s not entirely sure what she was expecting Jake’s answer to be, but it definitely wasn’t that. She stands still in front of him for the longest minute as a result, mouth open slightly as her mind races to absorb his response.

He takes her silence as a request for more information, and shuffles his sneaker covered feet against the floorboards. “It’s just … I know that people think that you’re way too good for me. And to be fair, they’re not entirely wrong. I was just hoping that I could find a way to bridge the gap a little … try and make it a little less obvious that I’m punching well above my weight. And then I couldn’t even do the damn laundry right.”

At any given moment, Amy could present to any asking stranger a million reasons why Jake Peralta was the man that had captured her heart, and the notion that the justification was coming from her very own boyfriend was making her soul ache more than a little bit.

Anybody that thought he wasn’t good enough for her could go jump in the Gowanus Canal, for all she cared. But the thought that Jake considered it to be true? Nuh-uh. Not on her watch.

She moves closer to him, close enough to smell the oddly intoxicating body wash he uses - the one that always seems to get her pulse racing, but she suspects that it’s more due to the user than the product itself. “Jake. You specifically ordered dinner last night from the Chinese restaurant that was exactly thirty-five minutes away from your apartment, knowing that I would be over in twenty and you wanted to give me a chance to settle before the food arrived.”

“That, and they do the best dumplings. But yeah, you’re right - mostly the time thing.”

“I woke up this morning on a cloud of a mattress, one that you bought purely so that I would be able actually sleep when I stayed over.”

Jake’s mouth twists to one side, and after a beat he folds his arms across his chest. “I just wanted you to feel comfortable … with the added bonus of you staying over more often. Although I have to admit, once you’ve realised you have a dumpster mattress, it’s actually really hard to ignore the springs that dig into your back in the middle of the night.”

Amy’s smile grows bigger, reaching out to rest her palm flat against his chest. “And then you made us both bagels, with extra cream cheese - something that I know you don’t normally have in your fridge, which tells me you went grocery shopping just in case I stayed over. Not to mention the documentary on brass instruments that you ‘happened to see scheduled and just recorded’, because you knew I would want to watch it eventually.”

“It actually looked pretty cool,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make it seem like a lesser deal than it actually was.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the freshly cleaned sheets, and the space you’d made for me in your bathroom cabinet months ago.”

“…. Are you … journaling all of this somewhere?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Amy shakes her head. “My point is, you are rocking the boyfriend role, babe. Seriously. You have been so sweet and attentive, without ever getting too much, and honestly I’ve just had the best time with you. I hope you know just how much I appreciate it … how much I appreciate you, and how great you make me feel whenever you’re around. Seriously, you should feel my heart sometimes, I feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.”

He still has a slightly wary look on his face, but as Amy wraps her arms around his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck, Jake’s hands wrap around her waist in automatic response. “I love you, Jake Peralta. For everything you are, exactly as you come.”

A slight blush begins to wash across his cheeks, and oh, how she just wants to kiss this ridiculous notion right off of his lips. “I love you too, Ames. You’re just … the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His grip on her hips grows a little tighter, and his voice lowers. “And I’m sorry if all of this sounded totally stupid, I just … want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

“Mission accomplished, babe. You’re everything I want, I don’t give two hoots what anybody else thinks.” Punctuating her sentence with a soft kiss, she rests her hands on either side of his neck and raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Now, why don’t we take care of this laundry so the bed is nice and clear, and then I can show you just how much you are the right person for me.”

“Noice. Just checking though … that doesn’t mean ‘throw everything to the floor so that I can immediately ravage my super-hot boyfriend’, does it?”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy grins. “You should definitely trust your instincts on that one.”

“10-4. We’re going to fold the heck out of this laundry.”

It’s a several years older Jake Peralta that fishes into his sock drawer one early afternoon, desperately looking for those just thick enough socks that he hasn’t seen in months but is sure he hasn’t thrown away. They’re tucked up right along the furtherest edge of the drawer, in a position that Amy’s engagement ring had once also called home, and he grins when his fingers wrap around the hidden treasure.

They’re a little less pink these days, having been through the wash several times since their re-colouring, but he can still make out the slight tinge when he holds them up to the light. Pulling them on with vigour, he makes his way back out to the living room to join his wife and son - knowing that both are looking forward to the start of their midday movie session - and also just as eager for some much-needed Family Time.

“Okay, made it,” Jake announces, lifting up the bag of candy he’d snagged from the kitchen as he’d passed, “and I brought snacks.” From his left, his son Mac looks up from his position snuggled into Amy’s side, and upon clocking Jake’s sudden appearance he beams (the kind of smile that just makes Jake’s heart soar, every. time.), scrambling in his clumsy toddler-esque style to climb onto Jake’s lap, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck in the very best way that his still so chonky arms will allow. Casting the bag of snacks to the side, Jake whispers “ready to watch the movie, little man?”, reaching out to tweak Mac’s button nose (a thankful inheritance from his mother) when he nods.

Turning his head further to the left as he wraps his arms around his son, Jake catches Amy’s eyes, noticing them sparkle as she takes it all in. Shuffling ever so slightly, Jake moves an inch to the left so that his left arm can rest on his wife’s legs, and she curls her fingers around his with one hand as she presses play on the remote with the other.

His crossed feet plonk onto the coffee table in front of him, and as he glances briefly at his socks before turning his attention back to the movie, Jake cannot help but think of the younger version of himself that had felt so insecure about his relationship with Amy. She is, after all, the love of his life (a fact that perhaps he hadn’t been ready to acknowledge back then, but one that was true within weeks of them dating all the same), and he was hers. Maybe if he’d been able to see that, he wouldn’t have taken the little things like a pair of newly coloured socks so hard.

Amy’s fingers squeeze his gently, and after glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Jake picks up on the fact that she’s just noticed his choice in attire. It would appear that the pink tinge is just as noticeable to her and it is to him - a fact that makes his heart more than a little bit happy - and when she tugs him a little closer he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste but loving kiss.

He cannot deny the smile that is growing on his face as they both pull away, returning their attention to the screen in front of them but keeping their fingers linked all the while. This right here, was everything that he needed - and undoubtedly, everything he deserved - and he genuinely cannot wait to raise Mac together with Amy, and show their son just how amazing the world can be when you always have love on your side.

#little throwback fic for kicks #dating peraltiago #with some bonus Mac action for good measure #I hope you like this!#tumblr prompts #b99 fanfic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fanfiction

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

Choose Where (Victor Zsasz x Reader) [Part 11]

THE END. Thank you all so much for sticking around!

Tagged: @im-just-one-of-the-avengers, @strangeaddiction1306, @vaaalexandra, @marvelenthusiast10, @thefandomqueen2882, @33rie33, @cassiopeia-barrow

Warnings: cutting, mutilation, blood

Image Source: directedbysnyder

The club was empty when you returned the following day. No note. You didn’t ask around to find out where Zsasz had gone. You merely threw yourself into the work.

As the only person left in charge of Roman’s operation, courtesy of the CFO paperwork you had filed months before, you took over.

The first thing you did was tear down the torture wallpaper with your bare hands.

For the next few months, you ripped out every piece of art in the place but for the big black hands and eyes framing the stage. You bought new furniture, replacing the tables and stools. The booths you reupholstered in maroon. You changed the lighting, keeping it warm but no longer seductive and red. You tore down the walls and replaced them with mahogany wood.

You went so far as to get rid of every single bottle of liquor in the place, ordering replacements for later.

Once in a while, when you were alone and everything was quiet, you swore you could feel fingertips ghosting over your scars, could hear Zsasz’s laughter down the halls. It took all of your effort and daily exhaustion to avoid thinking about him. All you knew was that Harley and the Birds of Prey were still alive.

The day before the grand reopening of the club, Dinah walked through the door.

You nearly leapt out of your skin. Smiling weakly, you waved her over to where you were sitting at the bar going over the bar food menu for the sixth time. “Drink?”

Dinah shook her head. “I’m not staying. I wanted to check it out.” She looked around the room. “It looks different.”

“That was the point.”

“Better, for sure.”

“I wanted to go for a speakeasy vibe. I even hired a jazz band,” you said. Eyeing her warily, you asked, “What’s new with you?”

You had never seen her so happy, so relaxed. She sat down on a stool beside you. “You’re some sort of money whiz, right?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Sort of.”

“I was hoping you could help me out. My friend can’t access her money. It got frozen in her accounts.”

“Ah.” You tapped the menu with your pen. “Your friend wouldn’t be Helena Bertinelli, would it?”

Dinah drew back. “How did you know that?”

“I’m a money whiz. The Bertinelli fortune is impossible not to hear about.”

“Can you do anything about it?”

You stared into her imploring eyes. “My relationship with Wayne Industries prevents me from helping out a vigilante group,” you said carefully. “I need them to protect me.”

“From what?”

“You don’t think other assholes want Roman’s empire?”

Dinah frowned. “We can protect you.”

“I need the Wayne Industries investments to keep this place open. But…I can tell you that you and your friends can get the money back if you find the banker who froze them.” You looked at her sideways. “I’m sure all he’ll need is a little persuasion. Of the ass-kicking variety.”

Dinah smiled. “We’re good at that.”

“I can get you the name. But that’s it.”

“Thank you.” Dinah glanced at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Get out of this place?”

You laughed. “I kick numbers and stock markets and investors, not ass.”

“Helena’s fortune is a lot of money to manage.”

“Thanks, but no.”

Sighing, Dinah stood and glanced around the room once more. “How can you stand it here?”

You spun in the stool, surveying the wood-paneled space. “I remade it on my terms.”

“Why did you keep the name? And those,” she said, gesturing to the sculpture on the stage.

“I figured it was the perfect ‘fuck you’ to Sionis.”

Dinah laughed, her voice swelling to fill the space. She left, the laughter trailing after her.

The next night, the grand reopening went spectacularly. The speakeasy vibe drew a different crowd. The jazz band filled the air with soothing rhythms. No man threw a tantrum and made women dance against their wills atop tables.

At 2am, closing time, you sat up in the office by yourself, hyper aware of your solitude. As though moving through water, you closed up the bar and returned to your shitty apartment, feeling hollow and hating every second of it.

Scar greeted you at the door. Sweeping him up in your arms, you threw yourself onto the couch and cradled him, hoping his purring would soothe you.

Two quiet knocks sounded on your door. With a sigh, you dragged yourself off the couch.

“Mrs. Robinson,” you called, opening the door, “I don’t have—”

You couldn’t breathe.

Zsasz looked the same as he had the last time you had seen him. Nearly. The rage and hurt were gone, his dark eyes cautious. You stepped aside, expecting him to storm through the door as was his way.

He walked past you slowly, hesitant. When the door shut, he turned and said, “You changed the club.”

You felt yourself deflate. Of course. It always came back to Roman. “Look—”

“It looks better.”

You blinked. “Thanks…” Determined to hurt yourself, you added, “Sionis would’ve hated it.”

“Not if you convinced him it was his idea.”

You wanted to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.

Scar nosed at Zsasz’s shoes, trying to place his scent. Zsasz crouched down to run a hand over his fur. “Hey, little guy. He’s so big now.”

“Yeah.”

You wanted to ask him where the hell he’d been, but you kept your mouth shut. He’d leave soon enough, you told yourself.

“Why are you still living here?” Unlike the previous times he’d asked, the question wasn’t vehement or judgmental. If anything, his voice sounded…sad.

“Look,” you said, fighting the pain growing inside you, “just say or do whatever you came here for.”

Zsasz straightened slowly. Adam’s apple bobbing, he opened his mouth to speak, hesitated. He rubbed the back of his neck, patted his hair as he struggled to find the words. Your heart strained in your chest, stomach twisting as the silence stretched.

“I had to bury Roman,” he finally said. “He was…”

“You loved him,” you said quietly. “And he loved you, in his own selfish, twisted way.”

He nodded. “One day, I will get my revenge,” he said, the words coming out slowly. He met your eyes. “But not today.”

It was a start. “I can accept that.”

Relief washed over his features before another expression overshadowed it, his gaze intense. “Good.”

He seized your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

It was as though a dam within you burst. All the hurt and the worry and the frustration he caused you flooded forward, pouring itself through your lips. You wanted to hurt him and hold him and save him and be the reason for his destruction.

“I know,” he murmured against your lips, breaking away for a second. “I know.”

Backing you up against the door, he kissed you with ravenous desperation, a starved man aching to consume you. You couldn’t think past the heat of him, the taste of his mouth, the strength of his tongue. He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, his body melding to yours.

You gasped for air, lips bruised from the intensity of the kiss. He dragged his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, lathed his tongue over the scar there. Your head tipped back against the door.

“You’re getting a new apartment,” he grunted. “No argument.”

“Fine,” you answered before reclaiming his lips. Growling, he pivoted away from the door, seeking the bedroom. A few strides and you both were on the bed, his body firmly seated between your legs. Your hands skated over his belt and tugged his shirt free of his pants, searching for skin. God, did he burn.

Tugging upward, you broke the kiss to let him yank the shirt off. Your hands slid to his belt.

“Wait.”

“Don’t tell me to wait,” you hissed. “I’ve been waiting.”

Staring into your eyes, he withdrew the knife from his pocket. For a moment, you felt a tinge of panic spike through you, but it passed as quickly as it had arrived.

“Choose where,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“On me,” he said. “So I don’t forget.”

Stunned, you let your gaze drop to his chest. Your hand traced the map of scars there, feeling each ridge. Just over his heart was a wide open space of unblemished skin. You tapped your finger there.

He rolled, taking you with him. Straddled on his hips, you looked down at his reverent expression. Taking the knife, you pressed the blade against the spot you had chosen, ghosting it over his flesh. He shivered, breath hitching in his throat. His hips bucked up against yours out of reflex.

“An X,” he said, breathless.

“Why?”

“One for each of yours.”

Heart stuttering, you set the knife against his skin, cutting deep. He tensed beneath you, grunting. His hands tightened on your hips as you made the second slash across the first. He sat up, blood running down his chest, and kissed your collarbone scar and your forehead one before staring into your face, a hand cradling your cheek.

“I know who you are now,” he said.

It took you a moment to realize he was referring to the first time you had met. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, nose brushing yours.

“Well, tell me,” you said.

“My new god,” he breathed against your lips.

You shoved him back onto the mattress. “Don’t you forget it.”

He grinned.

#Victor Zsasz x Reader #Zsasz x Reader #Victor Zsasz #zsasz #Victor Zsasz imagine #Zsasz imagine #Chris Messina #Chris Messina imagine #Roman Sionis #Ewan McGregor #birds of prey #bop #bop zsasz #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 180

180

Lance cleaned. He cleaned like a vampire possessed. Nothing escaped his cleaning. From the top of the house to the bottom was vacuumed, mopped, scrubbed, washed, packed and organised. He didn’t stop for sleep. The door to the nursery was shut. The room taboo in the household. Every trace of Keith’s scent was washed away. Keith’s things packed up neatly. Some things slightly tear damaged and a photo frame may now be glassless as it’d been hurled out the bedroom window in a fit of anger. Kosmo didn’t escape. He got bathed, groomed, nails clipped, and bedding washed. Blue got extra wet food, plenty of snuggles, and carried around as she protested loudly.

Stripping his bed, he told himself he was being stupid sleeping with so many blankets. He was a grown man, and grown men didn’t act this way. He also didn’t stop limiting his strength. Able to lift most furniture one handed as he vacuumed, then again as he ran the mop over the floor. Frustrated at the lack of speed with human appliances, he’d nearly hurled the washing machine outside in a fit of rage when the rinse cycle took too long. If Keith couldn’t love him any more, he needed to stop relying on him and believing in love like a dumb teen. Show after show was deleted from his watch lists. He’d have deleted the whole section off streaming if he could have. Matt and Rieva were in Platt so Keith could get used to their scents before the moon, leaving him alone, after asking Pidge and Hunk for some space and time to rest up.

Every single particle of his house reminded him of Keith. Every joke they’d shared. Every dumb plan they’d made. The scratches in the floorboards from where Keith tried to kill him. All the good times. By the time he was done, the only scent in the air was the “pine fresh” scent of aerosol disinfectant and cat poop from Blue’s litter tray. When the house was clean, he started baking. In all his cleaning, he’d forgotten Keith’s favourite coffee cup. Seeing it sitting next to the coffee machine, he missed the other half of his soul that didn’t seem to exist any more.

Keith... Keith didn’t know what to make of the world anymore. Fangs. Claws. Yellow eyes. A rage inside him that couldn’t be contained. He didn’t know left from right. Everyone was a foe. Everyone including the one person who absolutely hadn’t been. Lance. Lance who smelt like something he wanted to roll in. Lance who’s egos made him all weird and jumpy, and this weird other messed up self mad for no reason that he could understand. He didn’t know it’d be like this. This... this existence. He didn’t know this and he didn’t know himself anymore.

He was scared. He was scared of the world. He was scared of himself. Lance came and said a lot of things to him, and he didn’t get it. Lance was being kind and sweet, but he was just so angry. He hated this. Lance hated him. Then Lance loved him. Then Lance was leaving. Then Lance wanted him at the scan. Then he didn’t. Then he was gone. And he didn’t get it. He didn’t get why he opened his mouth and said the wrong thing. He’d driven Lance away from him. They’d been so happily in love. Every single touch radiated love. He didn’t really remembered mad at Lance. Coran said that was coma related and okay. He just... didn’t... How could he be around Lance when he was this mad?

Starting small, Keith wasn’t allowed out the medical wing. He’d Shiro twice. The third time he couldn’t look at him. His ego saying some not so nice things about his brother. He got Shiro didn’t want him to die and that he’d thought this Keith’s only chance. But Lance didn’t like him like this. He didn’t like him like this. Everything was too much, but it didn’t stop coming and he didn’t know what to do. He was being too blunt. Krolia had tried to have a conversation with him, but then he’d gotten all cranky and before he knew it he’d broken the hospital table in front of him. He couldn’t do anything right. He just... wanted Lance. He wanted Lance to fix things. To fix him. The furthest he’d gone since turning was down the hall and back again, to get him used to sounds. God. He hated sounds. He didn’t see how he’d ever get used to things he’d never noticed before. As he sat waiting patiently, he could see Coran on the phone outside the room. He looked worried and Keith knew he’d taken the call outside so Keith couldn’t hear what he said. They were probably organising his execution order instead of letting him go see Lance.

Letting himself back into the room, Coran looked upset. He smelt funny. If old man had a scent that smelt slightly like mushrooms were growing on him, that’d be the closest thing to Coran’s scent he could come up with. Sitting down, Coran rested his head in his hands. This was Lance related and Keith fucking knew it. His ego disgustingly annoying. How could it be okay with Lance hurting, and hurting for Lance? How Matt, Rieva, and Lance made a family, he didn’t know

“What is it? He doesn’t want me there, does he?”

With a pained groan, Coran raised his head. The man seemed as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. Actually, this had to make the top 20 times he’d seen Coran stressing

“Well. What happened?!”

Keith had noticed he’d turned into Krolia 2.0 with the bluntness. He could see why werewolves were thought of as dicks, because he felt like a bag of ducks deserving a dick punch

“I’m sorry, my boy. I think you may have to stay here. Rieva and Matt returned home today... Lance has had a bit of a breakdown”

What did Lance have to be having a breakdown over?! He wasn’t suddenly a werewolf. There went this stupid poxy new ego of his. He didn’t like it

“What do you mean?”

“He’s cleaned the house and shut himself up in his office”

That didn’t sound that unusual. Lance took pride in his house being neat and organised. Plus Pidge and Hunk would keep him from going too far into his head

“He left two days ago”

Keith wanted to shut up. Why did he have to be so angry? Why did his ego see Lance hitting the end of his mental rope as weak. Lance wasn’t weak at all. He was strong, kind and very beautiful. Why did every emotion have to be anger. Happy, nope, better glare at the world. Confused, whelp, better snap. Actually angry, here came the growls, snarls, and claws. Lance was beautiful. But suffered from low self esteem and anxiety. He knew that... But how did he know that? He wasn’t Keith anymore. He shouldn’t know things about human Keith’s life.

“Yes. It seems he told Hunk and Pidge he came to rest, cleaned the house, and locked himself away, instead of resting. Rieva said he’s stripped and remade his bed”

What was wrong with that? That’s what he normally did

“I must go to him”

“He’s probably just working”

“Keith, you misunderstand. Rieva said he’s... not in a good state”

“Lance loves cleaning”

“His bed only had one blanket on it. He’d denying himself the comfort of a nest, and gone against his instincts to nest. The staff barely managed to bring him out of labour. He doesn’t know how close he truly came to things being too late. I fear he wishes to do something very stupid. He called Curtis, asking if Curtis had ever heard of vampire returning to being a human”

Why would Lance want to be human again? Okay. Lance had always wanted to be human again. But he couldn’t carry the twins if he was human. His ego didn’t like that. It kind of liked the twins. It was a weird feeling. Like pride and confusion. What did Lance gain from being human. He wouldn’t...

“He wants to be human again because of me”

“I fear so. Curtis called Rieva, not knowing she and Matt were returning. They’ve both being commuting for work as it was. Lance feels that you cannot love him because he’s a vampire”

Keith let out a shaky breath. Ego angry. Him... shaken. That didn’t sound safe or sane. Two weeks was a lifetime when their lives were so messed up..

“If you’re going to see him, can I come?”

Coran lifted his head

“I don’t know, my boy. You’re still going through the changes of being turned. Your ego is currently unpredictable...”

“But Lance is hurting!”

With a shaky breath, Coran let his head drop again

“He’s been hurting for a long time. He didn’t wish the turn upon you. He and Shiro haven’t spoken to my knowledge since you woke. He requested we not be mad at Shiro, knowing Shiro was in an impossible situation with me unable to do anything. I tried all I could. But each time I adjusted your quintessence you had a negative effect. Initially when you were comatosed, Lance’s presence kept you stable. You seemed to know he was there, despite that being quite impossible. He made you a nest, gathered things of comfort, trying to make this transition less scary for you. But as strong as he is, he couldn’t help but lose his cool when it came to you. He combatted his depression staying by your side to care for you. He still loves you a great deal. Any actions you perceive were done in pity, were done in with great love and respect. He knew his presence may lead to insanity by overwhelming you with his own ego, that is the sole reason he left. He placed your health and needs above his own... It was agonising to watch”

And what had he done? Lost his cool because he didn’t know why there now felt like were two of him in his body? Told Lance he wanted to die? That he’d rather be dead than with him

“I hurt him”

“I spoke with Allura. Lance understands. He too went through the change, though he was much younger and slept longer before waking. Vampires also don’t rely on the first full moon to stabilise their egos. She said Lance was most distraught over having broken your trust in him”

This was what Keith didn’t get. How Lance could love him when he wasn’t Keith anymore. Lance smelt weird, but maybe it wasn’t a bad kind of a weird. It was kind of a weird that made him want to roll around in it

“Coran. I don’t know. He loved Keith. I’m not Keith anymore”

Coran chuckled, the sound turning deep into a proper laugh. Trying to recompose himself, the fae wiped at his eyes as Keith clenched his hands, angry automatically

“Sorry, lad. If you’re not Keith, then I don’t know who you are. Just because you’re now a werewolf doesn’t mean you’ll forget being human, or have a whole new identity. You’re still Keith, you just Keith with a little extra now. Goodness me, don’t tell me you’ve been fighting with your memories. You’re still you, my boy! Yours and Lance’s quintessence are still very much connected. That may have wavered but it’s still there. Fancy thinking you weren’t Keith. That would be like Matt not being Matt. I will say, once the moon passes you will notice I real change in my our ego”

Keith felt like of how Kosmo looked each time he had to scold him. He didn’t know how this worked. All Lance’s explanations on ego seemed lacking, not that Lance hadn’t tried, he’d thought he got. He didn’t. He was so tired of being angry, but was angry at himself for being angry so it was kind of like being stuck in an infuriating loop

“So I’m still me?”

He didn’t feel like him. He wouldn’t be so angry at Lance if he was him

“You are, my boy. I know it’s very scary right now, but things will be better. You managed not to snarl at Matt the last time he visited. That’s excellent progress for a wolf who wasn’t been touched by the moon”

He hadn’t liked being visited. He felt like a caged animal on display

“Will this anger ever go away?”

“With time. Oh, dear. We really must be going to see Lance. Any later and you’ll transform in the car. I’m most anxious to drive again today. I’ve been practicing”

Coran still couldn’t drive. Keith frustrated and feeling quite ill well before leaving city limits. The restlessness he felt seemed to have turned his stomach into a pit of snakes. He could hear the way the car gears screamed in abuse each time Coran tried to change gear. This was not fun. Maybe it’d have been safer for him to stay at VOLTRON for his first full moon. Matt and Rieva always seemed to be particularly horny and energised before it happened, but they weren’t douches to Lance like he’d been. He hadn’t even asked Coran for a phone to talk to Lance, as Lance had suggested he did. The amount of faith a vampire seemed to have in him made his ego go all weird. How was he supposed to be with Lance if he seemed to hate the mere fact his boyfriend existed?

And that was another thing. Were they still boyfriends? Like, boyfriend boyfriends? Or estranged boyfriends? Lance didn’t come see him until Shiro went running to him. His Lance would have flipped the world off and stayed. This Lance wasn’t acting right. Like Lance was mad and he could feel it in the air. He didn’t get it. If this was his Lance, than why did he have to be mean and cruel to feel better? He felt like everyone who’d ever bullied him had taken over his body and now he enjoyed inflicting pain as much he did.

Reaching Lance’s house, things felt stranger than ever. He knew the house. He knew the drive. He knew it, but it was as if he was seeing everything all over again. The sounds of nature made him feel as if he had that chirping arsehole symphony of cicadas playing just for him. He could smell cow shit... something dead... Lance... as well as two werewolves. Lance always said they smelt like wet dog. He supposed there was a definite trace of that. Matt didn’t smell awful, but he did smell like he needed to be on guard around him. Rieva smelt nicer. Like flowers and girly shit... and stuff. Matt was pretty growly too. Apparently sniffing someone’s mate was a no go, even if you’re only trying to tell your ego that they’re not a threat.

Opening the door, Kosmo came bounding out. His precious boy all paws and no grace as he crashed into Keith, knocking him on his arse as he took a paw to his junk

“Kosmo!”

Kosmo yipped as he gave exactly zero fucks, pushing Keith down and laying on top of him. What the hell was this? Kosmo had knocked him down in the past, but wasn’t he supposed to be a powerful werewolf now. And why was he laying on him. Coming out the house, Rieva came jogging over, Keith growling at her sending Kosmo bolting away from him with his tails between his legs

“That’s enough out of you. Coran, thank you for coming. Keith... what are you thinking letting Kosmo climb on you? He’ll never respect you as his owner if you let him boss you around”

Keith spluttered. His ego bruised enough over being taken out Kosmo

“Me? He knocked me down!”

Rieva placed her hands on her hips as she stared down at him

“Because he’s missed his human. He’s been glued to Lance’s side until Lance shut him out the office. Coran, I think it’s best you go see Lance right away. The sun will be setting soon and Keith needs a run down on what to expect”

Coran took the weirdness in his stride. All their friends were so goddamn weird

“Right you are, my girl! Matt not here?”

“He’s around the back trying to stop Lance if he tries to climb out the window. I did tell him Lance was too pregnant to be running off, but you know Matt”

“I’ll make sure to talk some sense into Lance. You two enjoy your run. Please don’t let Keith do anything stupid”

“Coran, you know Keith. He and Lance are very stupid”

Coran winked at the pair of them

“In all the right ways. Rightyo, I’ll see you two later”

Left with Rieva, Keith continued to stare up at her. He’d only come to see Lance, this whole moon thing made little sense

“Stop staring. You’ll be changing soon, and I suggest you not do it in the drive way”

“I’ll be changing?”

“You’ll be meeting your wolf side tonight. The first step is getting naked”

Oh no. Not more nudity. He wasn’t okay with the nudity

“I... uh...”

Rieva thrust her hand out

“You can’t deny it. You feel the energy don’t you? We feel it. Like there’s electricity in your body with no where for it to go”

“How do you know?”

Rieva rolled her eyes at him

“I’ve been a werewolf for years now. I think I know when I meet a newly turned wolf. Though you are rather sane so that does make talking easier”

“I don’t feel very sane”

“You’d be feeling differently if you weren’t. Tearing at your own skin by now. I was not entirely convinced in Coran’s methods, but you have definitely changed”

“What methods? He had someone bite me while I was unconscious”

“He did no such thing. He even chose a different werewolf at the request of Lance, trying to spare you the awkwardness of having one of us sure you. Now, out to the back with you. Unless you want your clothes destroyed when you turn”

Reluctantly Keith took Rieva’s hand. He didn’t feel like he was going to turn into anything. He just felt... cranky. Scowling at Rieva, Rieva ignored his mood, leading him off behind the house.

Matt gave up his window duties when Keith and Rieva came around the corner. Kalternecker letting out a lazy moo, eyeing him with zero interest

“Keith! Oh, man! Look at you. How do you feel?”

“Cranky”

“I remember my first time. Rieva turned me on a moon, so I was lucky there. We’ll have you back to normal soon enough”

“Matt, be nice. He’s still developing his ego. Keith, how do you feel?”

“Like I want to punch myself in the dick”

Rieva giggled at him

“We’ll the moon is in the sky. But you really do need to strip off. It won’t be long now”

“Can I not?”

“And have Lance sew your clothes back together? I think he’s having a hard enough time as it is. The house has never looked cleaner”

“Lance cleans all the time”

“Ah, but this time he cleaned Blue’s litter tray twice, before crying when she messed it up a third time. Now, clothes off!”

Keith hid himself behind Lance’s roses to strip. Matt and Rieva not caring as they stripped off in the backyard. Matt scolded for not picking up his clothes. Keith didn’t get how Matt’s ego could take it... and look happy about it. Whistling as he dropped his pants, Keith glared at Rieva who clapped her hands

“Take it off!”

“Fuck off”

Matt chuckled at him. Keith wanted to thump him

“Oooh, this is going to be so much fun. Have you gone over ground rules?”

Rieva shook her head

“Not yet. But you can, if you’d like?”

“Okay, man! Listen up. Rieva is my mate. She sets where we go and how far we go. If we get horny, you go away. I’m not to blame if you come too close to my mate. That’d be like me watching you and Lance have sex... actually, that wouldn’t be too bad, but it’d be more like me being in the middle of it and I’d prefer to keep my balls. You stay with us. If you get lost, stay where you are. We can sniff you out. You don’t come back to the house until the sunrises again. No chasing humans and no going near town. Pack playing is a thing. We fight and we bite, but it’s not to hurt each other. Oh! Don’t wake Lance up. And don’t try to hump a stray dog... What am I forgetting?”

“The most important thing. You’ll be overwhelmed. You’ll want to run. Let yourself run. It’s good for you. It gets the good feelings going. You’ll only be able to partly control your ego, so you’ll howl and do all sorts of wolf things that you don’t need to be embarrassed about. You’ll probably feel really horny too”

This didn’t sound fun. Rieva and Matt kept staring at him

“What?”

“We’re waiting for you to come out of there”

“I don’t think I want to”

“Dude, get used to the nudity. Babe, can I shift now?”

“If you want to. I can watch Keith”

“As long as that’s all you do”

Rieva wrapped her arms around Matt, the pair sharing a very passionate kiss. He used to kiss Lance like that. He missed Lance. Why couldn’t Lance be a werewolf? Then he’d be able to be with him... Shifting into a wolf, Keith noticed things he hadn’t noticed before when the pair had turned. Like the way Matt’s bones cracked in a way that sounded like agony. Lance looked so cute when he “batted out”. A little ball of anger that fit nicely under Keith’s chest and fed off his fingers with those razor sharp teeth of his.

Nudging at Rieva’s leg, Rieva ruffled the fur between Matt’s ears

“I’ll join you soon. Why don’t you race to the back fence and back, warm up a bit for tonight?”

Matt nudged up into Rieva’s hand, before fixing Keith in the gaze of his yellow eyes. Keith feeling like someone had doused him in cold water. Rieva was Matt’s mate. If he touched her, Matt would tear his throat out. How this was going to be fun, Keith didn’t know.

Uncomfortable being naked, Keith sat on the grass. Blades stabbing into his bare arse as he hugged his knees to his chest and waited for something to happen. His butt felt wet and he didn’t like it. With his keen sense of smell, he knew he wasn’t sitting where Matt had peed. He’d never noticed how much things smelt. From outside he could smell the scent of tea on the air. He’d heard Lance answer the door to Coran. Lance knew he was here, but he hadn’t come out... and Keith didn’t like it

“Stop thinking. Let the feeling build”

Easy for Rieva to say. She wasn’t stuck in this weird arse situation. Looking back at the house, he wanted Lance to appear in the doorway

“He won’t come out. It’s safer for him and your twins to stay inside”

“He doesn’t even want me here”

Rieva smacked his arm

“Don’t be stupid”

“He wanted to know how to be human again. He doesn’t like me like this”

“He adores you”

“That’s why I’m here and he couldn’t care less”

“If you’re going to be like this, I’ll leave you alone for your first turn”

“No one asked you stay! Go on then”

“Damn it. We both know I wouldn’t. Being a werewolf isn’t too terrible”

“Says you”

“Yes. Says me. Both Matt and I enjoy a relative non limiting normal life. It is possible... oh, I’m going to shift... I can feel the changing coming. It’ll hurt for your first time, but as fast as your body is breaking, it is healing. The more you change your form, the less it’ll hurt”

Rieva shifted into her wolf form, howling at Matt who was running around like an idiot. It disturbed Keith that he could see the pair. Running over to his mate, he tackled Rieva down, Rieva nipping at Matt’s ear, before looking at Keith as if to ask him why he hadn’t turned. How should he know? He was sitting. The slimmest line of red had already disappeared. Maybe he was broken wolf? That’d be hilarious. And just about on par with his life. Opening his mouth to the tell pair to fuck off, he felt the bones in his hands start to shift, horrified as his skin slowly rippled and tuffs to fur pushed through. The pain was immense, yet he couldn’t help but scream when that pain hit his chest and he could literally feel his ribs cracking. Rieva was right. The pain was weird, he could feel it, then came this almost rush of release on its heels.

Turning for the first time took time. His body writhing on the grass before the pain finally left and he was left feeling limp. Looking down to his hands, he saw big black paws. With all the grace of Kosmo after taking a thermometer up the butt, Keith rose to his feet, everything seemed so much bigger, clearer... with a growl, he got that Matt wanted him to follow him. Keith trying to work out how to move his legs. He felt like he looked like one of those cats from the videos where the owner puts cardboard rolls on their legs and they walk funny. He didn’t like it. He swayed like he was drunk. He could smell way too much. The dew on the grass. The birds in the trees... and his hearing... He could hear the TV on in the house, but somehow knew Lance wasn’t watching it. Miserably failing at walking, his legs got tangled and he fell.

Matt didn’t laugh at him. Keith confused by the fellow wolf’s actions as he trotted over started pushing into Keith’s side. Oh. Matt was trying to get him back on his feet... his feet that felt weirdly big. They’d said he’d lose control... was he supposed to be thinking in wolf? Was he thinking in wolf and his brain translating to human? Or was he thinking in wolf and just knew what it meant? Raising his moist nose, he sniffed the air. Something smelt really, really good... and he wanted to pee on it. Growling at him, Matt practically shoved him onto his feet. Keith stretching out each step. He knew how to human walk, but four legs... they didn’t move like his arms and legs. His ego was laughing at him. Mocking him. It was so weird. It didn’t have an actual voice yet he understood it so clearly. He was a wolf. He was a werewolf. Top of the chain. His actions were disgracing himself and the werewolf community.

Not moving fast enough, Matt nipped on his ear. Keith letting out a whine so pathetic he wanted to be scooped up like when Kosmo was a puppy and carried around. He could scent Lance way too clearly. His ego like “Who the fuck is this!?”, while his heart longed to see Lance and show him he’d made it through to this stage. Casting his gaze up to the moon, he really could feel something there. An imaginary tug. Almost as if the moon was so much closer to Earth than it should be. He couldn’t see the craters on the moon, yet it shone pretty damn prettily up there in the blue black inkyness of the sky.

Moving back to his side, Rieva nudged his front foot with her equally wet nose. Matt growling at the pair of them as Keith breathed in her scent. Parts of him were tingling, but not for her. What was this? 30 seconds in and he was horny? Is that what it was always like? He could smell Matt wanted Rieva as badly as Rieva wanted Matt. He wanted to bite Matt, but this was all so weird. Nudging his foot again, Keith took a cautious step forward, stretching out his leg then not sure how to make the rest of his body reach his front paw. The grass was squishy... squishy and he could feel the grains of sand against his paws. He didn’t like it. His body wanted to run, but there he was... not even able to walk. Whining sadly, Rieva huffed, knocking into him, and making him fall back over. Why did he have to have four legs?! No one needed four legs! Is this why octopi had 8. Because four sucked?

Rieva and Matt ended up boxing him in. Keith moving his legs to match their steps. He felt huge compared to them. Their paws seemed nicer than his huge black ones. His huge black ones just wanted to trip him over... He must have got the hang of it though, before he knew he’d done it, he’d reached the back fencing with the pair of them. Casting a glance back at Lance’s, he could still pick up traces of Lance. He didn’t want to cross the fence line, but his new pack gave him no choice. Rieva going first to show him how it was done, then when he failed and got his legs tangled up again, Matt grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him over the wooden fencing and off towards the wooded area in the distance.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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kiegosbby · 4 years

Text

hawks x f!reader

chapter three I think this ones a little longer lol sorry

word count: 1.5k

warnings: he makes you blush.

✁- - - - - - r- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After you had finished the stuff with the villain you began to fly over to {favorite restaurant}. 'What if he wasn't actually there and he was just messing with me?' god you really need to work on your self confidence. He asked so of course he'll be there! Right?

You landed a little away from the restaurant and walked the rest of the way. As you walked up you saw a huge crowd and in the middle, a bird.

"Guys guys, I know you all want a signature or to meet me but me and my pretty lady friend over there are about to eat dinner together and I think she'd appreciate it if you could give us some space yeah?" He said looking and pointing at me. was he trying to fucking embarrass me? Now there all staring at me! they look mad. Oh shit..

you looked wide eyed at hawks in the middle of a bunch of 14 year olds. He smiled brightly like he did nothing wrong. After a moment of silence you spoke up. "Y-yeah sorry guys I know your all fans but hero's have life's to and I'd just like to have dinner with h-hawks if that's ok" god could you sound any more pathetic? Your the fucking 10th hero?? Get your shit together.

Hawks walked away from the group of fans and over to you, still smiling. "Hey kid, sorry for the commotion. It happens yah know being ranked as high as I am." as he talked you looked at his eyes. Was that eyeliner real? it looked like his skin!

You then realized you had been staring and weren't answering him, 'dumb bitch get it together' "o-oh sorry! Spaced out a little there. Let's just go in yeah?" You asked hoping he would forget the slightly awkward moment.

"Yeah sure I'm starving! Do they got and chicken here? Oh I love chicken." He said looking towards rubbing his belly and grinning.

You gave him a weird look," uh isn't that cannibalism?" You asked confused. 'maybe this guy is weird. Should really look more into him' he let out a exaggerated sigh "god how many times do I have to go over this. Everyone asks! No I'm no a canabil. I'm a hawk not a chicken!" he said annoyed, you looked over at him and laughed softly. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal sorry, it was a little funny though." You let out another laugh, causing him to look at you 'his eyes are so pre- "hello will be your waiter today I'll show you to your seats" a young lady came bye and said. 'Thank the fucking gods (or Satan cause you do you) why would I think that about him? Snap the fuck out of it this is bullshit.'

you and hawks slowly walked over to your table, following the young waitress. she took you to a 2 seat table in the corner. "Here are your menus and I'll be back to take your order" she said with a smile and walked off into the kitchen. you looked over at hawks and he had his head on his hand. And was trying to look you up and down. "Hey Eyes are up here buddy" you said with a eye motion. "I know I look good but it doesn't give you the right to look saying we just meant." You said with a little laugh. hawks looked up at your eyes, "sorry kid hard not to look, with your costume and all" he said it with a smile. 'Does this guy ever stop smiling? I feel like I'm next to a bunch of fucking sunshine.' "Oh so you like my hero costume? I had it remade a couple weeks ago. Didn't know if it really suited me" you said looking at him. he looked you up and down again. "Yeah I like it. A lot.." he trailed off while looking down again. You let out a laugh, as it didn't really bother you. You felt like you got along right with hawks.

"So what are you gonna order?" He asked looking at the menu now. "Probably {favourite thing from that place}, what are you gonna get?" you said looking at the menu now as well. "Oh anything with chicken and I'll be set. And again I'm not a cannibal." He said pointing at me and giving me a look. you let out a little giggle, "I wasn't gonna bring it up again but if you say so birdy." you said exaggerating the birdy part. he chuckled slightly. He was about to say something and the waiter came back. "Do you guys know what you want yet?" " uh yeah I'll take the {whatever your getting} please and thank you" you said giving a small smile. "And for you sir?" "Oh I'll just take chicken strips" he said with a big smile. 'God his smile is so cute.' you put your hand on your head keeping it up and stared at him blushing slightly, and he started talking "ya know I didn't know that was you on the rooftop, I didn't see your wings, I thought you were gonna jump or something" he said with a nervous laugh. "Oh well I was just relaxing, I've been training a lot recently to get higher in the ranks, but now I'm 10th so it's definitely paying off. The only problem is I always have to train with 3 people. No one can ever keep up with me" you said with a smile, he chuckled. "think your all that kid? Well I bet you couldn't beat me. As they say the fastest hero." He said motioning to himself. And you both laughed. "Well maybe we should train together, sounds like fun, I get to beat you and I get to spend more time with you" you said while smiling. 'Holy shit did we really just say that? Why did we be so confident what the fuc- "oh you want to spend more time with me? I'm flattered." He said with a small laugh. Just as you were about to talk again the waiter came with your food.

"Did you really have to order chicken strips. If you wanted that we could've went to a fast food restaurant." You said looking at his plate. "Well I wanted to sit down and talk, I mean I don't really know much about you but I'm already starting to like you" he said with a smirk. Just when you were about to reply the waiter came back and dropped off the check. "Have a good night folks" she said and walked back to the kitchen. You started to reach to grab the bill and pay, but so did he. Your hands bumped into each other causing you to laugh. "Sorry I was gonna pay, I'm the one who asked you to go in the first place." You said smiling. He looked up and you and smiled. "Of course. I like that, the women paying on the first date." He said with a smile. You blushed intensely "this was a date? I-I didn't think that you wanted to do that with me" you were blushing very hard at this point, 'this was a date?? I wouldn't have wore my hero costume and I wouldn't hav-' "hey littlebird I'm just messing with you, on our first date I'm going to pick the place of course" he smiled and chuckled. "O-oh so you do want to go on a date with me?" You asked "of course I would. Who wouldn't want to, with a pretty girl like you?" you blushed and you guys stood up and you went to pay as he waited outside.

You walked out and saw him waiting. It was late now getting dark and you wanted to go home take a shower and sleep. "Hey little bird about that training. Me you my agency tomorrow? I got my own training room big enough with high ceilings for our wings" 'that does sound good. I need a new training partner I've been having to take 3 people on at a time it sucks' " sounds better than taking on multiple people. See you there 10 am?" You asked hoping it was ok. You desperately wanted to sleep in. "Of course baby bird. Hey let me see your phone for a second let me show you something" you took your phone out and gave it to him. You didn't see the problem, you trusted hawks already. He gave it back and there was a new contact. It read 'hawks ❤️🐔' you laughed and looked up "good one, really funny" he laughed back with you "I know I'm frickin hilarious. I gotta get going, got some late night patrol left. See you tomorrow?" "Of course see you tomorrow" you both smiled and he pulled his wings out and flew away "bye little bird!" He yelled while flying away. you smiled to yourself 'oh y/n what did you get yourself into...'

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ladyaudentium · 4 years

Text

Confectionary Affection

Title: Confectionary Affection Fandom: Final Fantasy Crisis Core Rating: T Pairing: AngealxOC Characters: Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Original Characters Links: A03, FF.net

This took me longer than I would have liked, but I'm back with the next chapter! This one is jam packed with Angeal and Zack content! Be sure to grab a cold drink and a snack to enjoy!

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed after the first chapter so far! If I missed responding to anyone's review, I'm sorry! I'll be going back over the reviews for the previous chapter, and if I missed you, I'll send you a response!

Enjoy!

It was nearly impossible to forget that Angeal and Zack had stopped by her bakery.

Kalika and Anri worked themselves to the bone and were only just barely able to keep up to the new level of demand. Sometimes it was so busy during the morning that there was simply not enough stock left to open in the evening; not even if Kalika remade everything again.

At first the business had been making a considerable income, and even now, it was till turning a higher profit than the past, but the costs of running the establishment had also increased. Sometimes there was simply not enough ingredients or prepared pastries left to open again in the evening. Usually this ended up with the business losing money.

Not only that but the increased workload had Kalika and Anri burning out more quickly than they could regain their strength. Kalika's usual late nights and early mornings preparing dough and bakery items were quickly turning into working around the clock. It wasn't unusual for her to doze off kneading a bread dough only to wake with it on the floor or ruined from over working it.

Anri was the same, for the first time since she was a new employee, she was making mistakes with drink and food orders. As a result, the customers were becoming upset and more than once a scene with raised voices had caused Kalika to intervene and forcibly remove the troublemakers.

It was getting to the point where an extra set of hands was a necessary addition; preferably a set with some muscle behind them. Kalika sighed heavily as she once again wiped the chalk board clean. Her handwriting was never great to begin with, but her hands were still sore and shaky from the kneading she had just finished.

The sun was beginning to set, and the bakery had been closed all day. Kalika had spent all night and day preparing every bit of dough, batter, and meringue for the no doubt absolutely insane day tomorrow. If her usual delivery of supplies was on time, she would be able to open again the day after, but if not… well she would come up with something. She always did.

Slapping her cheek, she forced herself to stay awake for just a little while longer, she just needed to finish this task and then she was finished—

*KNOCK KNOCK* "Kalika?" a voice called from outside.

The young woman jumped at the sudden noise which caused a series of events to follow:

First, her precariously placed step ladder slipped off the edge of the counter, causing her to scream in fear and drop all her supplies creating a racket.

Second, the door burst open just as she desperately tried to remain balanced, her hands reaching out for anything that would keep her from the inevitable.

Third, she fell.

The young woman braced for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but instead was met with a warm embrace. Black hair and blue eyes entered her vision and it was with a sudden sinking pit in her stomach that she knew who it was.

Angeal Hewley.

"You should be more careful." He intoned lowly, his chest vibrating with his voice, "We need to stop meeting like this."

Kalika stared up into his bright blue eyes as her head rested on his chest. "I don't know, I think it's kind of nice?" the words escaped her mouth before she could think twice and immediately could feel her face begin to heat up in a deep, mortified blush.

Angeal blinked once in disbelief as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Better be careful, Angeal or pretty soon she's going to be falling for you!" Zack called excitedly, breaking the silence.

The black-haired man, sighed deeply and screwed his eyes shut, clearly stressed, "Zack. What have I said to you about appropriate behavior and comments?" he prompted as the burly SOLDIER made a move to stand, his steady grip assisting Kalika to stand along with him.

There was a heavy sigh from the opposite side of the corner while the younger boy replied monotonously, "You said that I need to think before speaking and that words have impact. I can't take back anything once it's been said, sometimes the best choice is to remain silent." the energetic boy leaned back over a bar stool and with both hands over his face, "I can't help it though, you two make it so easy!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands to the ceiling.

"You need to learn self-restraint if you intend to be an honorable member of SOLDIER in the future." Angeal scolded and judging from the young boy's reaction, this seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of them. Somehow, that did not come as a surprise to the young woman.

"I know, I'm doing my best, Angeal! Sometimes it just bursts out before I can stop it!" Zack turned to Kalika, "By the way, we're here to return this! The scones were delicious, thanks!" he held out the same container that Anri had given them upon their departure from their last visit.

The blue haired girl blinked once in surprise as she accepted the box; a reusable one that was not their typical to-go boxes. That sly girl, she had planned for this too. "Thanks, I'm glad you liked them." she looked up at Angeal, "I'm sorry for the trouble of making you come back here to return it. It would have been fine if you just disposed of the container instead." she also took the opportunity to notice that it had been washed as well. How… odd. Somehow, she just could not picture prominent members of SOLDIER doing something as ordinary as washing dishes.

The image of Angeal in a pink, frilly apron suddenly was at the forethought of her brain and she blushed deeply once again.

"It would be wasteful to merely dispose of an easily reusable box such as this." Angeal stated plainly. His eyebrows lowered with concern as he pulled a glove from his hand and gently placed his palm on her forehead, "You're quite red, are you feeling alright? Have you eaten anything today?"

"I - I think so? I've been busy today and haven't had a chance to sit down for long." Kalika blurted as she froze in place. Should she move away from his hand? Or would that be rude? Why was he being so friendly? Was he always this caring to strangers? Especially a stranger that just hit on him a minute ago. The blush returned full force to her face with that traitorous thought.

Before she could panic any further, he pulled his hand away and once again donned his glove. The young woman breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Busy? But you're closed!" Zack spoke up, and cocked his head to the side, "Wait, why are you closed? Shouldn't this place be hopping right now?"

Both sets of bright blue eyes settled on her with varying inquisitiveness. Zack's was honest confusion but Angeal's was less readable. His mouth was set in a straight line across his strong jaw while his eyes held a spark of suspicion that set a cold sweat down Kalika's spine.

Oh boy, how could she explain this without outright blaming them for the necessary closure and the empty ingredient cabinet?

"I… well… you see, ever since your last visit, business has been crazy. Lately I can't keep to the hours we normally hosted. Sometimes I'm up all night preparing!" Her words were spoken with a joyous tone, but from the lack of change in both of their expressions, she was not convincing them.

Angeal opened his mouth to respond, the frown of concern deep on his brow, but was interrupted by a fourth, unfamiliar voice, "Oh my Gaia, you're Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER! You're back! I can't believe it, I gotta tell everyone!"

Kalika felt the blood leave her face as her attention immediately snapped to the tall, blonde woman currently standing in the open doorway attempting to snap a picture of the two men.

"No, pictures without permission and we're closed, please leave!" She ordered, pushing past Angeal to confront the woman directly.

"What? But it's the middle of your posted hours and your door is open! You can't throw me out, do you know who I am?"

"Nope, and I'm sorry you've forgotten. Now, please get out, we are closed, and you are trespassing."

The woman's brown eyes flashed with indignation, "Listen, I don't know how you get off talking to customers like that, but—"

"No buts! I asked you to leave. I won't ask again." Crimson eyes sparked with anger as she stared the other woman down.

Red lips opened to argue further, but she was cut off by a deep, commanding voice "You have been asked to leave, you should comply with that request."

A quick, furtive glance backwards revealed Angeal standing straight, his burly arms crossed over his chest and a dark glare adorning his features. A shudder wormed its way down Kalika's spine. Scary, was the only thing she could think.

There was a beat of silence between the three of them. The woman suddenly looked appropriately ashamed of her behavior and without another word scuttled away.

The second the woman was outside, Kalika grabbed the door and threw it shut behind her. Much to her surprise, it bounced back open and that's when she noticed the lock was completely broken. Around the spot where the deadbolt should have been was a hole in the door frame and splinters scattered along the floor.

She shut it again, it bounced backwards.

She applied a little more force, it bounced backwards again.

Frustration and resentment burning within her, she tried again; it bounced backwards.

With all her strength, she slammed the door shut and before it could bounce back, shoved a chair underneath the similarly broken and limp door handle.

Defeated, she braced her hands against the door and let her head hang between them.

"It would probably be a good idea for you both to use the back door to leave. You'll attract less attention that way… plus, it seems this one is broken now." Kalika murmured quietly, not daring to look up in fear that they would see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Kali…? Is everything… okay?" Zack's genuinely concerned voice broke the silence.

A lump caught in her throat and without looking at either of them she walked to the nearest table and sat down on one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands. She could not cry, not here, not with Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER and Zack Fair here to witness it. One shuddering breath later gave her the confidence to speak.

"Yeah, I'll be fine… somehow, I always am."

A shadow fell over her, "Is there anything we can do to help?" Zack asked.

"No, but thanks." Kalika waved him off but much to her surprise, he caught her hand between two gloved ones of his own. Surprised, she looked up into an uncharacteristically serious expression on the young boy's face.

"I swear on my honor as a SOLDIER I will do whatever it takes to help you, Kali. You're one of us now, right Angeal?"

"Don't swear on your honor lightly, Zack."

"I mean it! I do!"

Angeal nodded, seemingly accepting his young protégé's resolve. "How long has your door been broken like this?" the First Class inquired.

Kalika sniffed as delicately as she could as she attempted to take her hand back from Zack, but it was held tight. "It was fine earlier today; it was only just now that something seemed to be wrong. There was a hole where the deadbolt was and splinters from the door frame were scattered along the floor…" the young woman snapped her jaw shut when she realized the implications of her words.

Angeal's face darkened once again and his eyebrows angled inwards at a dangerous angle as he stared his young protégé down. There was a heavy beat of silence as Zack seemed to realize what was going on, "Oh… well… you know… SOLDIER strength, am I right?"

"No! It's fine really!" Kalika jumped up and did her best to placate the visibly upset SOLDIER, "It was old and in need of replacement anyways, I can probably write the replacement off as a business expense. I'm sure Zack didn't mean it."

Angeal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "His intentions aren't the issue. SOLDIERs have enhanced senses and abilities. If Zack does not learn how to control these properly, he could end up hurting himself or worse, others." He looked up, "I apologize for the door, Zack you're going to suspend a fifty-pound weight in a squat today to make up for your lack of control this evening."

Zack groaned and Kalika winced sympathetically, "I don't think that's necessary, is it? Maybe since you're really strong you could help me with something, and we call it even?" she suggested. "I still need to finish rewriting that menu sign. We're opening with a new item tomorrow."

Angeal looked over his shoulder to see the unfinished chalkboard, "Is that what you were doing when you fell?"

An embarrassed blush crept over her face once again, "Yes, it's too high for me to reach on my own. So, I usually have to get creative… with a step ladder… on the counter."

"That sounds very dangerous." The raven-haired man lowered his eyebrows in concern and disapproval.

"Maybe you can help Angeal! Just lift her up and she'd be able to reach no problem!" an excited Zack exclaimed and, in his enthusiasm, squeezed her hand that was still held captive.

The young woman sputtered, "I- that's not what I meant, but maybe if one of you could just hold the ladder steady? I usually have Anri to help me, but I gave her the day off today."

Angeal turned and with one hand lifted the step ladder she had been using, revealing one of the legs to be broken off, "For the sake of your safety, I would advise against using this again."

"Oh… I see…" the young woman murmured as she worried her bottom lip, how was she going to get up there now?

Zack was practically vibrating with excitement from beside her. A quick glance to him revealed that he was glancing quickly between the two of them biting his lip in anticipation. He was planning something, if only the blue-haired woman could figure out what it was…

"To make amends for the broken door, I would be willing to lift you as Zack suggested." Angeal offered as he moved the broken ladder out of the way.

"I mean, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden. Are you sure I won't be too heavy?"

The burly man grinned and chuckled deeply. The genuine mirth revealed pearly white teeth and the genuine good-ness that radiated from him was unlike anyone she had ever met before. "I'm sure."

Kalika blushed for what seemed like the tenth time in under an hour, "I – Well… if you're sure, I guess. I need to get the chalk." Walking forwards, Zack finally let go of her hand and Angeal stepped out of the way to let her pass behind the bar. Grabbing the chalk from the ground and the eraser cloth, she turned back to the First-Class SOLDIER, "Okay, I'm ready, how would you like to do this?"

Angeal stepped forward and for the first time she noticed how tall he was. She had never felt so small compared to someone in her life, he dwarfed her in every sense. She was eye level with the middle of his chest, and he was easily twice as wide as her. Another blush adorned her cheeks as he knelt to one knee, "Sit on my shoulder and I will take hold of your legs."

Nodding, she turned around and as instructed, gingerly sat on his shoulder, doing her best to put as little weight on him as possible. Two arms wrapped around her knees, locking them in place and the next thing she knew, he was lifting her into the air.

Sucking in a breath she flailed, unbalanced, for one moment before a hand on her thigh steadied her. Angeal Hewley, First Class SOLDIER of Shinra was touching her leg. She tried not to think about how her butt was on his shoulder and instead focused on finishing the sign as quickly as possible. Her hands and shoulders cramped but she did her best to legibly scrawl the newest addition to her menu.

"Dumbapple tart?" Zack exclaimed, "Angeal, didn't you grow up in Banora?! That's so cool!"

"Is that true?" Kalika inquired, looking down to meet the bright blue eyes of Angeal.

"It is, both Genesis and I grew up there. His parents had the best Banora White tree, every summer we would take as many apples as we could and sit in the branches eating them." A small, nostalgic smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

"That changes everything then, let me down, I'm all finished now."

With one swift movement, the hands disappeared from her person and for a brief moment, she hung suspended in the air before being gently lowered to the ground. The black-haired SOLDIER stared down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Setting the chalk down she made to pass him, "Have a seat. I'll be right back," and disappeared into the kitchen.

The fridge opened with a hiss, a quick scan through the contents revealed her prize. Pulling two small tarts from their tray, Kalika put them on a plate and made her way back to the front. The fridge closed with a satisfying click behind her.

"Here, to thank you for helping me with the sign, please be the first to try a tart!" placing the plate on the bar counter, she waited excitedly for them to each take one. "They're Banora White apple tarts with some decorative white chocolate to counter the sourness and some edible gold sparkles for presentation."

Zack immediately grabbed one and in one bite put the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes lit up as he playfully slapped his mentor's shoulder, "D'ese are r'lly gud An'eal! You shou'd taste ish!" (translation: These are really good, Angeal! You should taste this!)

Angeal sighed in resignation as he took a tart, "Thank you, this wasn't necessary as it is us who are in your debt, not the opposite way around."

Kalika smiled brightly, "It's fine, really! Plus, I hope that I can live up to your memories of the times stealing and eating the apples."

With a small smile, he took a bite and instantly his blue eyes lit up with surprise, his eyebrows once again disappearing into his hairline. Swallowing, he turned back to the blue haired woman, "You have a true gift for baking."

Flushing for the umpteenth time that day, Kalika continued to smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'll package up one for Commander Rhapsodos as well and you can give one to him too!"

"How much do we owe you for the tarts?" Angeal asked as she pushed through the door to the kitchen.

"Nothing! They're thanks for helping me!" she called back as she began to package up the third tart and then returned to the front with it. Angeal stared her down, his mouth a straight line and his azure gaze steeled with his resolve.

"Please, it would be dishonorable for us to accept these gifts a second time. Especially when your door breaking was our fault in the first place."

Stumped, she could only stare. Never had anyone been so insistent on paying for a gift. "Don't be silly, these are gifts, do you insist for payment when you give a gift to someone?" she held out the tart wrapped in a white box with Confectionary Affection stamped on the sides. "Here's Commander Rhapsodos's tart, try not to squish it if you can, and now it's getting late. I imagine you need to get back to Shinra, since the front door's broken and likely a crowd of fans outside waiting for you to exit, follow me to the back door."

With that, she turned on her heel and pushed open the swinging door and motioned for them to follow her. Zack hopped up immediately, but Angeal took a moment to gather himself and follow. Passing through the kitchen and a small hallway with a set of stairs leading to the second floor, they came to the back door. Pushing it open revealed the dirt yard and receiving area for her shipments of ingredients.

"Thanks again for the treats, Kali. They were delicious as always!" Zack called as he jumped down the short flight of stairs, an arm extended in a cheery wave.

"Thank you for your hospitality. You honor us with your generosity. Genesis will enjoy this pastry, I am certain." Angeal stated solemnly, his eyes shining with the depth of his gratitude.

"Any time, come by again soon. Preferably without causing any trouble this time. Using the back door might not be such a bad idea to avoid any drama like with that woman earlier." She pointed to a black rectangle with a button in the middle, "Next time you're by, just ring this doorbell and I'll let you in."

Zack grinned devilishly and took a breath to make a comment, but before he could utter a sound, Angeal put a hand over the young boy's mouth to silence him. "Thank you Kalika, we will not forget your kindness today."

The blue -haired baker could only manage a small wave as they turned to walk away. Zack continued to wave enthusiastically until they were out of sight behind the fence. Closing the door, her knees felt weak. The sound of her name on Angeal's lips created a feeling in her like she'd never experienced before. Sliding to the ground she replayed the memory in her mind until she was sure that it would be with her forever.

She had offered for them to come back again, but it was such wishful thinking she did not dare hope too much. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern, but three times was a dream and nothing more.

But oh, how she loved to dream.

Oh they'll be back, but in the meantime, there's other shenanigans that need to happen first >:3c

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you'd like! I always enjoy hearing your thoughts!

#angeal hewley #zack fair #original character #me and my dummy thicc angeal propaganda #fic #confectionary affection #writing stuff #my writing

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

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Love After the Fact Chapter 45: Like Gravity

I'm drawn to you.

First Previous Next

Lance starts at the hiss of the pod, snatches up the thick blanket a servant delivered, runs over just in time to catch Keith as he falls out of it. His fur is distractingly soft, silken, with the exception of coarser hair running in a dorsal line along his spine. He wraps his cold, naked spouse in the blanket, careful to cover him so he’s more comfortable.

“Hey, beloved. You’re alright. You’re all fixed up.”

“Lance?” Violet eyes flutter open, slanted pupils dilating in the dim light. Keith is shivering, though from fear of the pod or just the cold Lance isn’t sure. They sit like that for a minute, Keith curling into the warmth of Lance’s body, Lance running his hands over his form to warm him up.

“Thought you guys might leave me in there,” he mumbles. “Thanks for… not doing that. And staying.”

Lance brushes a thumb over Keith’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold… Do you have some clothes I could wear?”

“Yes, here.” Lance hands over a set of nightclothes. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Keith pulls the shirt over his head. Lance pulls his hair out from under it, braiding the tangled mess to contain it just a bit. “I can- Actually, can you help me stand?”

“Sure.” Hoisting Keith to his feet, Lance helps his spouse keep steady while he pulls on his underclothes and nightpants. “Thanks. For letting me help.”

“Yeah, well… I’m not exactly good at asking for it.” Keith wraps the blanket back around his shoulders.

“And I smother you a little, don’t I?” Lance chuckles when Keith dodges his gaze. “Let’s just try to do a little bit better from now on, shall we?”

“Okay.” Keith’s hands are still trembling, as is the rest of him. “Can we go back to our room?”

“Will you feel safe there?”

“I spent eleven years in the same den I lived in when Alteans found and murdered my father.”

“...Our room it is.” Lance slings Keith’s arm over his shoulder, slips his own around Keith’s waist. On their way out of the room, he leans over to one of the guards. “Have someone send some Galran cuisine to our room, please.”

The guard nods, and the princes proceed to their room in silence. Lance lets Keith have his silence, unsure how he feels about the events of tonight. It’s not until they’re back in their room, now smelling of cleaning solution, that Keith speaks.

“I’m glad you’re alright. When that assassin was leaning over you, I was… I was angry. They were going to take you from me, and I was angry.”

Lance stares at the kit, bites his lip. “Come here for a minute. We have to wait for your food anyway.”

“I’m really not hungry…”

“I know, but trust me, you want to eat something after being in the pod. You’ll recover much more quickly.”

Lance sits them both down on the sofa. Keith nibbles lightly at his lip, glaring at their hands, settled together, loosely joined where their legs touch. After a moment, the Galra scoffs, giving up. “I wish I were still drunk. Stupid pod.”

All Lance can do is laugh at how wonderfully his spouse broke that tension, how he chose to break it on a smile instead of a sigh. “I don’t. Not even a little.”

“Really? I assumed I’m more fun when I’m drunk.”

“You’re certainly more… sociable, but I dunno.” Lance smiles, trails knuckles down Keith’s cheek. “Perhaps I’m biased, but I think you’re wonderful no matter what.”

Gulping, Keith searches for his courage, finds it gone. He can’t. He can’t make himself any more vulnerable than he already has. So he leans away, surrenders to keeping what they already have a while longer.

Lance, however, watches those walls creep back up with more than mild dissatisfaction. He’s spent phoebs building this relationship with Keith. He’s not about to let fear get in the way of that. Still, Lance will make sure that progress is made willingly.

“Did you change your mind about your bet with Shiro? It’s alright if you did.” he watches Keith’s face, those wilted ears, that limp tail. At his question, delicate, purple fingers find the tangled end of that long braid.

“I… No. I haven’t.”

“Good. Because I made you a promise some hours ago and I intend-”

The door opens, and Adam slips in, all but stumbling under the weight of exhaustion. He’s carrying a plate of food for Keith. Lance raises an eyebrow in question, and Adam explains. “Never send a guard to do my job, your Majesty.”

“Fuck off with the ‘your Majesty’, Adam.” Lance sighs. “Honestly, it’s such nonsense.”

“‘Kay!” the Altean chirps, never too tired to be a smartass.

“You’re taking the rest of today off. And tomorrow. If anyone catches you working, they will take your datapad. Understood?”

Adam glares, but eventually nods. “The interrogations were fruitless, by the way. As we knew they would be. All I got for my trouble was being electrocuted by Pidge when I woke them up and again when they realized what I was looking for.”

“Thank you, Adam. Enjoy your rest, my friend. You sorely need it.”

After Adam retreats, Keith’s still sitting frozen, back rigid as a board even as his body visibly trembles from the effort. The healing pod seems to have left him more drained than it would an Altean. Lance decides to give him a reprieve.

“Hey.” Keith jumps when he speaks, winces like he’s sore. Lance squeezes his hand. “Try to eat at least a little. It’ll help, I promise.”

“Okay.” Keith stares at the plate of food. It’s mostly meat, with some beans, a bit of fruit, and two portions of bread. He nibbles the end of one of the pieces of bread, setting the other aside for Lance. To his surprise, the moment the bread hits his slightly queasy stomach, he’s ravenous and wolfing down the rest of his food. Next to him, Lance nibbles his bread.

"I'm never gonna get over how delicious this stuff is. It's so much better than Altean bread."

“You’ll love Daibazaal,” Keith whispers. You’ll love the rain.

“I know.” Lance grins around the crust of his bread. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“Me neither,” Keith whispers, smile more than a little sad. "Daibazaal is my home."

“Hey.” Finishing his snack, Lance helps his tired spouse to his feet, pulls him into an embrace. It’s a real one, genuine, with a tangible purpose. It’s private, not a display, but a moment of vulnerability. “I’m gonna take you home. You can drag me all over the planet and show me all of your favorite things and your mother can terrorize me the entire time, okay?”

Keith laughs into his shoulder, though Lance distinctly hears a sniffle. He doesn’t mention it. “She hates you.”

“Yeah, that’s partially Lanval’s fault. But I won’t take it personally. I stole you away from her. She’s allowed to be angry.”

Lance gently coaxes Keith to step back, guides him over to their bed, remade in their absence. “There are guards outside the walls, by the way. And tomorrow, Pidge will work on heightening our security tech.”

“Sounds good.”

Keith sits on the bed, rubs at his sleepy eyes. When he drags them open, peering up at Lance, The Altean is gazing at him, blue eyes glittering softly as he dims the lights. Reaching out, Keith cautiously lifts one of Lance’s hands to his cheek, holding it there, feeling that familiar brush of Lance’s thumb.

Keith tilts his head back, closes his eyes just in time for the brush of Lance’s lips. It's the briefest of things, more a flutter of contact than anything else, and after everything he’s endured getting to this point, it’s not enough for Keith.

“That,” he whispers, reaching up with tired limbs to cradle Lance’s face in his hands. “Was extremely inadequate.”

It’s all they need.

Lance surges forward, looming over Keith as their lips press together again. This time it’s firm, assured, no fear or worry. No stress. No looming deadlines. No nosy courtiers. No pushy fathers...

It's just them, and the warmth between them. Keith opens his mouth, Lance’s smooth tongue slipping over his raspy one. He can feel Lance's smile against his lips, under his fingers where they brush against the Altean's cheeks. His finger slide up into Lance's feather-light hair, silken soft, so soft he can barely feel it. Just as pampered as Keith had imagined, but far, far kinder. Far more devoted. Just... better.

As Lance presses closer, tension works its way under his skin, instincts forever wary no matter how safe he knows he is. Lance pulls back immediately, their noses still touching, their breaths shared between them. Keith's never been so close, but now, he can see the finer details of Lance's eyes, the way the blues and pinks blend together like shards of a morning sky, like opals. He could stare at them forever and still find some new fragment to admire.

“Lance?”

“Hm?”

“Will you-” Keith gulps, tugs on strands of starlight hair. “Will you… stay close? Tonight?”

“Scooch over,” Lance whispers, slipping into the bed beside him.

To Lance’s surprise, Keith rolls over, snuggles right up against him, tucks his head beneath his chin. At first, everything is fine, Lance enjoying Keith’s warmth, the physical contact that he’s missed the past few phoebs. There's sweetness in how Keith returns his embrace, gentle hands, warmth at ever point of contact. But after a dobosh, Keith’s breath begins to hitch, coming rapid, fingers curling into Lance’s nightshirt.

“Are you alright, beloved?”

“I- I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I- Since anybody- It’s distressing, going from not having anybody to having someone again.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No! No, I-” Those fingers tighten, and Keith’s tail curls over Lance’s waist.

“Okay.” Lance rubs warm circles into Keith’s back. “It’s okay, beloved. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Please stay.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. We should have done this sooner.”

“I didn’t want it. You were a stranger. And… I wasn’t ready to ask.”

“Fair enough.” Lance rubs the base of his ear, kisses the thin cartilage. "But you don't have to sleep alone, okay? I've missed having somebody too, so it's good for both of us."

"Yeah... Lance?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad I have you."

"I'm glad I have you, too." By the time Keith’s settled and fallen asleep, softly purring, the sky above them is a paling shade of amethyst. Lance can’t help but think it’s the exact shade of Keith's eyes. “Sleep well, beloved.”

He nuzzles into Keith’s hair, breathing in the slightly soured scent, hardly caring. It's the first genuinely deep sleep he's seen from Keith, and at this point, he’s just grateful they're both still here.

They're both still here, drawn together by gravity.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: here

Summary: Baz takes Simon to see the stars, but they end up doing a lot more speaking than stargazing. "Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile." Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 4 - Plot @carryonsparks (Even though this is literally 3 weeks late. I write so slowly!)

TW - There is a brief mention of what happened in the forest in Carry On, so suicidal intentions are mentioned. It's nothing graphic or anything like that, but I thought it would be best to mention it!

Words: 9,221

Baz

Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile.

Two years ago today, back at Watford, Simon showed me the stars. It’s a day neither of us will ever forget. In all of our, admittedly, limited conversations about our relationship, he’s always maintained that, that was the day he felt something shift (Even if he didn’t fully realise it at the time). There, somewhere between our stiff beds and the infinity of space, something happened that changed us. That remade us. And I think it’s finally time that I repay the favour.

Unfortunately, though, I’m unable to just conjure up the universe with a flick of my wrist like he did (I’ve tried numerous times, to no avail), so I’ve had to concede to taking a more normal approach to replicating the magic of that night. I'm taking him on a date. Somewhere where the stars can shine down on him.

In all our time together, we’ve never actually managed a traditional date (What with all the mess at Watford, the absolute catastrophe that was our “Great American road trip”, and all of our recent avoidance), so really, it’s long overdue.

Only ... I'm not entirely sure that he'll actually be willing to go with me; given our current situation. But I suppose there’s little harm in asking - Things can’t really get much worse than they already are, and as they say … ‘Fortune favours the bold’.

“Snow,” I call, prodding at his thigh. “I need you to get up.”

He’s flopped, utterly lifeless, on the sofa again - His threadbare pyjamas stained and crumpled, and a ghastly stack of unwashed glasses and plates littering the floor around him, where his tail lays, limply.

It hurts to look at him like this; so far from himself. But that’s how it is most days. Simon Snow: the boy who was promised the world - promised glory and gold - and left with nothing, lying vacant and depressed in his living room. Some days are better, of course; but most aren’t.

After America, I had hoped that things may be a little easier for him. That maybe some of his regained zest would stay with him. But nothing substantial changed. Without the sun, and the space, and the danger, he fell right back into it, all too easily.

Bunce and I do our best to help him, of course - Offering our companionship, or dragging him outside with us for some fresh air (I’d even considered spelling him with a ‘Cheer up, buttercup’ a few times). But realistically, there is little that we can do. He’s traumatised. He’s hurting. And all the magic and good intentions in the world can’t soothe his pain (As much as I wish they could).

I try not to beat myself up over it, but it’s hard sometimes. I know I do all that I can, but my best efforts just aren’t good enough. They don’t make him happy. They don’t take away his hurt. I don’t know how to help him. So … I’m as good as useless to him now.

Hauling himself over, he scowls at me. His eyes flat and ringed with red - The light behind them having dimmed, long ago.

“For fuck’s sakes, Baz!” He gruffs. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m trying to sleep.”

He gets snappy like this, sometimes - When he's let himself stew in his feelings for too long. But it's alright. He always apologises afterwards, when the haze has cleared. And I’m not exactly above losing my temper, either - So I have no real reason to complain.

“I know, and I’m sorry but … I wanted to do something with you. Something time dependent. It’s already nine PM, and I really can't wait much longer, love."

“Yeah well, you’re the one who woke me up at seven AM, to go and buy you blood from the fucking New Forest, when there’s a perfectly good butcher down the road! You know don’t mind getting you what you need, but that was seriously taking the piss! So forgive me for being a little sleepy!"

I gulp, guilt prickling in my stomach.

I knew he was mad about that, but I’d hoped that he’d have forgiven me by now - Considering that I'd already let him take my car, and supplied him with a, frankly, outrageous amount of chocolate, as a sorry. Because while it is true that I sent him on a three and a half hour round trip back to Hampshire (under the false pretense that the blood there tastes better because it’s ‘free range’), I really didn’t do it to be a prat. I only did it to get him out of the house for a while, so that I could whip up a batch of his beloved sour cherry scones, without causing suspicion. And while there were probably less infuriating methods of Simon Snow removal, I really couldn’t think of any at the time - So I had to make do.

I just hope that when all is revealed he can find it in himself to forgive me.

“I know,” I sigh. “And I do appreciate it. I didn’t mean to take advantage, it just … really is better.”

Dropping his shoulders, his face twists with remorse as he reaches upwards, pawing at his neck roughly. For Crowley’s sakes, now I’ve gone and made him feel worse! Just brilliant.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “I’m just … tired. Sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry too - For waking you up. But … if it’s alright with you, I’d still like to take you out tonight. I've got somewhere special in mind.”

“Why?” he asks, suspicious. “What’s so special about tonight?”

"You don't get any clues, Snow," I chide. "That'll only spoil the surprise. But, if you come with me, then I can show you. It'll be just us two, so you don't have to worry about getting dressed up, or anything like that. And ... you don't have to come at all, if you're not feeling up to it. But you may end up liking it, if you do.”

Gnawing at his lip, he tugs at the hem of his shirt, awkwardly.

“No. I just - I haven’t - I need to, like … get ready. I haven’t … showered. Or done my teeth."

As painful as it is to admit, that doesn’t really surprise me. He struggles to take care of himself, sometimes. I don’t know if it’s just because he forgets, or the effort feels too insurmountable, or … what? All I know is that he does. (I’m convinced that if Bunce and I didn’t keep him so well loaded with takeaways that he'd forget to eat half of the time). So, with a wordless shrug of agreement, I slide myself down onto the sofa besides him to wait (Clearly he’s rubbing off on me).

————————————————————————————

“Is this it?” he asks, as we pull into the carpark.

He’s been jittery the whole ride here - His leg bouncing nervously, and his bottom lip ruddied where he’s been chewing at it. Like he thinks that this is all some elaborate ruse.

“Well no,” I say, smirking over at him, as I undo my seatbelt. “This is a carpark, Snow. I had something a little nicer than this in mind, don’t you worry. I just need to go and set it up, first.”

“Set it up?”

“Don’t fret, you numpty. You can trust me. It’s nothing sinister.”

Chuckling quietly, I reach forwards - Pressing my hand against his knee, in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.

“Alright,” he murmurs, wriggling out of my touch, curtly (He still isn’t sure about me touching him sometimes - Says it makes him feel trapped). “Be quick then”.

I’m as quickly as I can manage (Although I definitely spend slightly too long fussing with my decorations). And soon enough, I’m pulling a blindfolded Snow behind me, our hands slotted together, loosely, as we stumble across the grass. The rough warmth of his skin against mine sending my heart aflutter.

“Baz,” he coughs, his voice creeping with uncertainty. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”

“We’re in St James Park, Snow. We’ve been here before. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“But … It’s late. What if we get mugged or something?”

“If someone tries to mug us, then I’m sure you’ll scare them off with a cocktail stick sword, or something. And if worst comes to worst, you pack a mean punch. Either way, you’ll save us,” I shrug.

Puffing out a slight laugh, he presses our palms a little closer together.

“So … cocktail sticks. We’re having a picnic then?”

“Hush, you,” I scold, miffed. “No more guessing. We’re almost there, so just wait and see, you impatient brute."

Pulling us to a stop, I falter. Looking at it with fresh eyes, it’s a lot. It’s an awful lot.

Besides a large willow on the edge of the lake, I’ve created a wonderful spread for us - All of his favourite foods sat in a wicker basket, in the centre of Bunce’s picnic blanket.

For aesthetic appeal, I’ve surrounded our space with an assortment of candles, held firmly in place with a ‘Stay Put’ (Since I imagine that setting ourselves alight would probably kill the mood). And I’ve spelled the raindrops, still clinging to the damp grass reeds, iridescent with a ‘Twinkle in their eye’. The glow of the flames dancing, ethereally, in their newly mirrored surface, so that the ground comes alive with a million watery fireflies.

But I want this. I want us to have this. So there’s really no benefit to backing down now.

“Alright,” I drawl, reluctantly dropping his hand, and taking a few steps away from him. “You can look now.”

Urgently, he reaches upwards, tugging the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, and taking it all in. His face transforming into some shade of panicked horror, immediately. Merlin and Morgana. Curse my flare for the dramatics! It’s definitely too much.

“Baz. Wh - What is all of this?” he stammers.

Tense, I twirl a lock of hair between my fingers, in a hopeless attempt to focus on anything other than what a massive cock up this whole evening has been.

“Well … I wanted to show you the stars.”

“The stars?”

“Yes, Snow,” I bite. “The stars. You know, the little twinkly things in the sky.”

I shouldn’t do that - The being rude to him. But for some reason it still seems to be my default defense setting.

“I know - I know what a star is. I mean … why?”

“Two years ago, today. Back at Watford. 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' … Ring any bells?”

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” I copy, my voice softening significantly. “I just - I wanted to repay the favour. I know that we had the truck in America. And, I know that this isn’t quite the same as the original. But … it’s the best I could do. We aren’t all supernovas, you know.”

“Yeah … No. I mean … it’s nice. I just - I don’t know.”

It isn’t at all convincing, but I do my best to let his slither of praise ground me.

Hesitantly, I step forwards, holding out my hand to him, in offering. He doesn’t take it this time, so I let it flop, grimly, to my side.

“Simon, we can go home if you’d prefer,” I try. “It was just an idea. Nothing an 'As you were' can’t fix.”

He gawks at me like I’ve sprouted another head (Which is ironic considering that he’s the one with the dragon appendages).

“No. I want to look at the stars,” he rejects, jutting his jaw out, determinedly. “I just don’t really … deserve it. I didn’t even, like … realise. I mean, how do you even know the date of that?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “If you seriously don’t think you’re worthy of cheap finger foods and Fanta, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to revive some of my more creative Watford insults, because that is idiotic. You do deserve it. This and more.”

Staring down at the ground, as if ashamed, he tugs his lips upwards into a weak smile.

“And I only remembered the date because, at the time, I thought that, that was all we would ever get. That it was the closest we’d ever be to what I really wanted. So … I clung to every detail. It’s horrifically embarrassing, really. And painfully sappy. But … there we are. I didn’t expect you to remember, though. So please don't worry that you didn’t,” I reassure.

We’re slightly better at this now - The talking.

We had a huge fight in the toilets at Heathrow after America (Since there really was no point in pretending that I didn’t know what he was trying to do on that beach), that basically boiled down to ‘You never tell me things’ ‘Well, you never tell me, either’. So, we’ve been working on being a little more open with our communication, since then. I try to be honest and tell him how I feel (However humiliating it may be), and he does the same.

It’s clunky and unnatural, and it doesn’t always work (Obviously). But we’re trying. So it’s a start.

We haven’t gotten onto any of the more ‘heavy’ stuff just yet - The state of our relationship, the Mage, how afraid I am, how sad he is. Mostly we’ve just started fessing up to small things from our past - Like how lovelorn I was at Watford, or why he ditched his therapist. But, it’s only been a month. We stick to the past, right now, because the present is too painful (And I don’t really want to hear him say we have no future). But there’s hope. There’s a spark. There’s effort. So maybe one day we’ll get there.

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice noticeably strained. “Then … let’s do it. I want to stay.”

I grin, despite myself, and gesture towards the blanket.

“After you, Snow.”

————————————————————————————

“Holy shit,” he laughs, holding a hand out in front of his smile in an attempt to hide the mush of scone in his mouth. It doesn’t work, but I don’t really care (I’m disturbed). “They taste just like Watford’s. How the hell did you make these? Or did you steal them from Prichard?”

Biting down a smile, I arch my eyebrow up at him. Bright and smiling, he tries to copy me - Both of his eyebrows jumping upwards, clumsily. And I wish that I could tell him how amazing it is to hear him laugh again, but I don’t want to risk upsetting him. He’d probably just take it to mean that I only like him when he’s happier, which is just objectively untrue. I’d like him however he is.

“Oh please, petty theft is below a Pitch,” I breeze.

“Then how?”

“I bribed her with enough Champagne to bring down a Dragon, and she gave me the recipe. It was really very simple, Snow. I’m surprised you didn’t manage it yourself”

“What? Seriously?” he beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling, charmingly. “How much did it take? I offered her, like, half of my Goblin Gold for it, and she still wouldn’t budge!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. My bank probably thinks that I have a severe drinking problem now, but no matter. It’s worth it to see you smile.”

Darting his eyes downwards, his face flushes with heat.

“Penny would spell you silent if she heard you saying such sickly things, you know,” he complains, scrunching up his nose in disgust.

It’s all fake, though. I know he doesn't really mean it. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he loves it when I’m soft with him. One whispered 'Love' or 'Simon' is enough to make him melt, even now. It used to be enough to get him to kiss me too, but not anymore (Practically nothing is). Although I don’t really care - It’s still incredibly endearing.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But, look … Bunce isn’t here. I’ve managed to lure you up here all alone, so I’m free to be as saccharine as I please, I'm afraid."

“Whatever,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Ah yes - Being nice to my boyfriend. Truly, I am a freak,” I tease. “Just … lay down, you nightmare.”

“Lay down?”

“Yes. It’s a very simple instruction, Snow” I deadpan, flopping myself back down onto the blanket, with a puff of laughter.

“Yeah but … why?”

“Because ... unless everything has gone loopy, the stars that I brought you out here to see are above you. So lie down and look. I’m not going to jump you, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” he says, carefully resting himself down on the blanket. “If you say so.”

————————————————————————————

He’s tucked up against me now, staring up at the stars, happily - His head resting, heavily, against my outstretched arm, and his right leg draped over mine. It’s a little uncomfortable, to be honest, but I daren’t tell him. He’d only move away, and I so desperately want him to stay.

Pointing up at a the sky above us, I draw his attention to a particular cluster of stars, and can't help but wonder whether they're the same ones that filled our room, or hung above us in America - Or if even they have changed, too.

“That one is Aries,” I explain. “The Ram constellation.”

“I don’t see anything,” he whines, pouting out his lips, childishly.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a hold of his hand and pull out his ring finger, directing it’s point to trace the stars’ outline.

“That’s just a random line.”

“Nope. It’s a Ram ... Although, I will admit that the resemblance is a little tenuous.”

He turns to me, smiling brightly, and my heart clenches at the sight of him, so close and carefree.

“It’s a line, and you know it,” he chuckles. “How do you even know so much about stars, anyway? They all look the same to me.”

“We have a couple of astronomy books back in our home library. My mother liked to stargaze,” I say, waving dismissively. “And … they remind me of you, so I like learning about them.”

“They remind you of me?”

“Yes. All of your moles are like constellations. I’ve always thought so. And, obviously, that night with the stars only reinforced the link.” God, I’m disgustingly sappy. How can he bear it?

“I see,” he sings, snuggling his head down against my chest. “Well … thank you for showing me.”

We lay together for a while, like that - His head moving with each rise and fall of my chest, and my shirt scrunched up in his fists. We don’t talk about all that much - just chatter about university and the new Nordic bakery Simon found just off of the Golden Square - but it’s nice. It’s normal. It’s us.

Smoothing a hand down his waist, I take a deep breath, readying myself for what’s next.

“Simon -” I start, my voice barely a whisper (Talking at full volume amongst the fragile calm that has settled between us feels far too disruptive).

“Hmm,” he hums, the vibration of his voice tickling against my skin.

“I need to tell you something. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Instantly, I feel his body stiffen, every muscle pulled taut with tension.

“It’s nothing bad,” I reassure. “Or … I don’t think so, anyway.”

“What then?” he asks, looking up at me, his brow knotted with nerves.

“I just … I Love you.”

And with those three words, he pulls himself away from me, once again. Yanking his arms backwards, and wrapping them around himself in a defensive self-hug, as he shifts away.

“Simon?” I call, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer; just yanks at his curls and shakes his head no. Fucking Hell. I’ve really messed up now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … ruin things. I just wanted you to know. Please don’t - it’s alright.”

“No, Baz,” he trembles.

“No, what?”

“It’s not - I just - I don’t -”

Stumbling over his words, he jabs the heels of his palm into his eye sockets, in frustration. And I cringe, involuntarily, at the sight of it. It must hurt.

“Just … take your time, love,” I ease.

He sniffs, pitifully, then, and I think he may be crying. I’m on the verge, too - My throat thick with regret, and my eyes stinging, warningly - but I hold it in. Just. Crying would only make this worse, and it really doesn’t need to get any worse. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced my love upon him.

Hanging his head forwards, he gives himself a moment to recollect his faculties - His breath thick and shaking.

I wait, silently - Counting the stars above me in an attempt to ease my mind. Knowing that he’ll speak when he can - When he finds the words.

And sure enough, picking at the grass beneath him, he finally does - Sobbing and broken though they may be: “I just … don’t understand how you can anymore?”

“Understand how I can what?”

“How you can, like … love me.”

My heart clenches at the sound of him, so earnest and afraid. Of course. Even after everything we’ve been through - Even after all I’ve told him - he still can’t see that I do. Still can’t believe that I do. And it’s my fault, I know. I haven’t managed to tell him properly before now. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold onto. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve just dropped my pride and told him outright and simple, rather than messing about with poetics. I should’ve told him months ago. Years ago! I’ve known for long enough. All I needed to do was let him hear it. But I didn’t. And now it’s too late.

Helplessly, I reach out, cupping the softness of his jaw with my hand, and turning him to face me. He resists, slightly, but lets me do it. He refuses to meet my eyes, though - Staring down at the floor, blankly, a teardrop hanging from the tip of his nose.

“Simon, listen to me. I’ve loved you for years. There’s plenty of reasons why I can, and do … I love your kindness. I love your morality. I love your bravery. I love your stubbornness. I love your fierceness. I love your smile. I love your heart. I love your mind. I love getting to spend time with you. I love how when we sleep, you always leave a light on for me because you know, even though I’m too proud to admit it, that I don’t like the dark. Or how … you always leave me a bit of your food for me to try -”

He’s staring at me intensely now, his eyes squinted and scanning across my face.

“- I could wax poetic about all the parts of you that I cherish forever, if need be. But, to keep it simple, I love everything about you. Even if you don’t … necessarily understand it, it’s the truth. You just need to believe me. You need to trust me. I loved you then, and I love you now. Nothing has changed, in that respect.”

“I’m a disaster,” he mumbles, looking away, his brow furrowed, and deep, frowning creases forming besides his mouth.

“I’ll give you that,” I smile, hoping to lift the mood. “But I love disasters.”

“Baz,” he huffs, planting his head in his hands. “I’m being serious.”

“Hey, look at me -” He doesn’t. “- So am I. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“But, I - I mean, I can’t even do it back, properly. It’s not that I don’t - Don’t, like, you know. I just … I can’t do this properly. I thought, at the start, that maybe I could. But I can’t. We’ve been together for ages now, and all I’ve done in that time is be an absolutely terrible boyfriend to you! Even by my standards.”

“Well, you did try to warn me,” I joke, shuffling slightly closer to him. “But … you’re not a terrible boyfriend, Simon. Don’t be unfair to yourself. This is good. You are good. And … after all, I’m the one who sent you on a pointless trip to the New Forest this morning. So, I reckon, if anyone is a terrible boyfriend right now, it’s me.”

“But you - I mean, you deserve better,” he whispers. “I’m not enough for you, anymore. I don’t think I ever was, really. You’re … you, and I’m just me.”

“You’re more than good enough for me, you halfwit,” I scold, softening my tone “Simon, you’re everything I want.”

“No, but … look around us. You did all of this, and I … I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, hush! You’ve done plenty. You’ve given me more than I ever could’ve hoped for. Even if you don’t see it.”

“But that’s the point!” he groans, yanking at his curls. “You should want more than that! What little I do, isn’t good enough. You’re just clinging onto when things were alright! But they’re not anymore, don’t you see?!”

I stare at him blankly, trying to figure him out. Why he can’t just accept what I’m saying, I’ll never know.

“Look … I’ll admit that things between us have been a little difficult, as of late. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or that somehow you’re not ‘good enough’ for me. I want you however you are. And sure, I'd love if things were a little easier - For you, and for me. But there’s no rush.”

“Things have been 'difficult' for months now, Baz!” he cries, his voice bitter and defeated. “I’m so sick of lying to myself, and pretending that I’m going to get my happy ending. My head went wrong long ago! At this point it’s best if we just cut our losses, and accept that I’m unfixable.”

I clench my eyes shut, pained. The utter hopelessness in his voice, a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re not 'unfixable', Simon. You don’t even need to be 'fixed'. Just … Listen to me,” I plead. “I understand why we are where we are, and I don’t mind. We just need to … work through it. What happened to you - I mean, Merlin, it’s your whole life! The Mage was despicable. He used you. He abused you. He stole your entire childhood, without even a second of thought over what it might do to you! But … what happened at White Chapel was awful. You shouldn't have had to watch that. But, it's so much more than that - Than him. It's everything. All the instability of your early years. The Humdrum. All the killing and the fighting. Whatever happened to you and Bunce at the end of term. How the Coven just … ditched you. Christ, even me, Snow! I mean, I wasn’t exactly compassionate towards you at Watford, was I? I tormented you. I just … everything that happened - That kind of trauma doesn’t just vanish overnight. It takes time. And I know that you’ve been told that a million times before, and you’re probably fed up of hearing it, but it’s true. It’s fine that you’re not … fine, right now. I don’t expect you to be. I don’t need you to be.”

Turning away, he shakes his head.

“But it's not,” he protests, his voice whining. “I’m no good to you like this. I’m no good to anyone, anymore. I’m not some superhero. I’m not some supernova. I’m just … nothing. I’m a burden - To you and Penny. All you do is go to uni and babysit me! And, we still haven’t … I mean, I can hardly ever even be kissed without getting all weird! What kind of fucked up boyfriend am I?”

“There’s more to life than snogging, Snow,” I chastise. “I enjoy your company, whether we’re doing … those sorts of things, or not. I’m not babysitting you, I’m spending time with you. And you’re not a burden. Needing help doesn’t make you some kind of problem. You’re our friend. You’re my - We want to help you.”

“Yeah, but … I just want to be normal again. I just want it to all be simple. This is - I’ve ruined this.”

“Not true,” I argue. “This isn’t ruined. You just … keep focussing on what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

Reaching across the blanket, I grab a hold of his hand - Tracing my fingertips over the rough calluses there.

“This-” I enunciate, squeezing his palm for emphasis. “Is a lot more than we had two years ago. Nothing is ruined, it’s just, perhaps, not exactly what we’d expected.”

“Yeah but … it’s a lot less than we had when we first left Watford. I used to be able to … do it all properly. I don’t know what happened. I thought - I mean, it’s not your fault. I don’t know why I can’t just … do it.”

“I know -” I sigh.

Because he does have a point. Simon never really liked to be touched first - To feel pressured. But it used to be manageable. We could hug. We could kiss. Sometimes we’d even end up snogging on the sofa, for the better part of an hour. And as long as he was in control for the majority of the time, he could surrender himself to luxuriating in my affections, occasionally.

Nowadays though, even a chaste kiss on the cheek feels incredibly risky, so I rarely try to initiate anything. It’s better to let him decide when we can or can’t. There’s no need for me to be greedy about it.

And while I cannot deny that I miss it - being able to be close to him, in that way - I don’t mind. Not really. My whole life has been a practise in maintaining control over ‘powerful’ urges (Both Snow and non-Snow related), so I’ve had plenty of of experience in holding myself back. Screw the erotic gropefest that teenage me had always envisioned! As long as he’s comfortable, and he still wants this, then I’m happy to give or withhold whatever he needs. Being a little touch starved won’t kill me, but losing him probably would.

“- I understand that it’s frustrating, really I do. But … sometimes you have to take five steps backwards for each step forwards. And I appreciate that it hurts, but as long as you keep on walking, you’ll get where you need to be, eventually. If we carry on trying (And I mean really, actively trying), then I’m sure things will get a little easier for us soon, love. But you need to give it time. You need to give yourself time … That’s just the arduous nature of progress, I’m afraid.”

Sticking out his tongue in a fake vomiting gesture, he laughs - A little hushed and wet, but genuinely amused, nonetheless.

“Fucking hell! Don’t be so grim, Baz. You sound like a therapist!”

“Yes, well … there is a reason people pay to go and see therapists, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his hands into my chest, jokingly.

“Yeah, and there’s a reason I stopped going to mine, smart-arse. Too much of that sort of crap!”

“I know, I know,” I laugh, wearily - Not trusting this brief flickering of emotional relief. “I don’t mean to be all preachy - God knows you probably won’t listen, anyway! But, as disgustingly cliche as it may be, it’s true.”

He pauses, sucking in a shaking breath.

“I know, but - I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t everything, Baz!” he explains, utterly exhausted. “I mean you just - And I didn't … you know, do it back. I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it back, Simon. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted you to know. I wasn’t counting on reciprocation. I don��t need that from you, it’s alright.”

“It’s not ‘alright’, Baz!” he snaps. “None of this is alright! Just … stop saying that! You always say that!

“But it is alright,” I assert, leaning towards him slightly. “I’m only saying it because I mean it! I didn’t intend to make you feel … obligated. I seriously didn’t expect you to say it back, or for it to be some huge ‘thing’. I’ve just … never managed to tell you, properly, and after America -” After seeing him lying there on the ground, lifeless and beaten, his wings twisted and covered in blood. As good as dead. “- I just needed for you to know. Everything is perfectly fine, I promise. I don’t care that you didn’t - I’m not upset by how you responded, Snow.”

“Well you bloody well should expect me to say it back! You should care! That’s the whole point! You’re supposed to want things from me. You’re supposed to expect things from me. You’re not just supposed to sit there and take whatever bullshit I give you, and keep on telling me that everything is fine and dandy, Baz!”

“I do ‘want’ things from you, Snow,” I sigh. “I just want them to be on your terms, when you’re ready. There’s nothing wrong with being accommodating. And … I’m only telling you it’s fine because it is! Just because something is somewhat positive, doesn’t make it a lie - You only think that it does. And, I’m sorry but … you’re wrong. I don’t mind that you aren’t ready to say it back - Whether it’s because you’re unsure of how you feel, or you don’t want to, or you just can’t. I want you to say it when you want to - Not before. I wanted to say it now, so I did. If you don’t, then don’t. Simple!”

He growls at that, just like he used to do when I’d insult him. Except this time I really don’t understand that objection.

“But - even if that’s true, it isn’t just that!”

“Then what?” I ask, exasperated.

I don’t mean to lose my temper with him, and I don’t really think I am (Not quite yet), but … I’m tired of arguing with him over even the smallest things. Everything I do is wrong. If I’m kind, he doesn’t believe me or accuses me of ‘babying’ him. If I snap, he takes whatever cruel thing that comes out of my mouth as my ‘true’ thoughts. If I hide my wants away, he has a problem with it. If I tell him, I’m pressuring him. All I do is lose. And while I know that I’m the one to blame, for being unable to figure out how to best be what he needs, I just wish that it would stop. I just wish that we could fix it. But we can’t. We don’t know how.

“Well, like … I see the look in your eyes when I pull away, or I shove you off, or I snap at you, or when I just … lay there. It’s like - You’re so sad, but you never say! And … I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it, and I don’t know why! I don’t want to do it. I just - I just want to be normal again. And I want you to stop lying and saying everything is fine, when it clearly isn’t.”

“Snow, I’m not lying to you! I’m telling you that it’s fine because it genuinely is! How many times do I have to go over this? I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is that I just - I don’t believe you,” he huffs.

“But why not? I wouldn’t lie to you. I just … wouldn’t.”

“Because … it just - it means nothing to me, anymore, Baz! You got beaten down so many times in America, and all you did was keep on telling me that everything was fine, and reassuring me, and swearing that you were happy, when anybody who was paying attention could tell that you weren’t! So … how am I supposed to believe you when you tell me it’s alright now? How do I know you’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear, because you’re too afraid of me to tell me the truth?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Snow,” I drone. “I could drain you dry in a half a second, if I wanted to.”

And of course my insistence on being a petulant little git doesn’t help the situation at all - Only adding fuel to the, already, engorged fire. But it’s too late to take it back, now - So I let my little dig steep in the space between us. Rotten and unnecessary.

“Not like that,” he groans. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Don’t be such a dick! I just mean, like … it’s like you’re afraid of hurting me. You think that I can’t take the truth, so you keep on hiding it away from me, but you’re wrong. I can take the truth! I want the truth! I’m not - I’m not made of butterfly wings, and it pisses me off when you treat me like I am!”

“I don’t mean to … treat you differently,” I explain, taken aback. “I just don’t want to … pressure you, or make some idiotic mistake that’ll mess things up. But when I tell you things are fine, I’m not doing it to spare your feelings, I’m doing it because I mean it! All I’m doing is telling you the truth. I mean, what would you rather me do, Simon? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m perfectly fine, so what else is there? What, I mean - Do you want me to get mad at you over nothing? Because I'm telling you right now, I won't do it."

We’re both heated now - jaws clenched and words spat. And it’s just like old times, but it aches. It aches so bad. There’s no rivalry here, no facade, and no game. It’s just us - Fighting because we don’t know what else to do. And it’s so painfully real - so painfully vulnerable - that it near shatters my heart.

Tonight was supposed to be a relief, not a rematch. But here we are, once again - Right where neither of us wants to be.

“At least then I’d know you’re not being fake, just to protect me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

And with that, he jumps up, and stomps over to the edge of the lake - Sitting himself down in the mud, away from me. End of conversation. End of argument. But there's no point backing down now. If we're going to do this, then we may as well do it properly, and get this whole catastrophe over with ASAP. So I trail after him, helplessly.

Dropping myself down besides him, the words come tumbling out before I can stop them - So desperate and broken. My mask well and truly dissolved.

“Simon, I’m not like that, anymore. You know that. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, Baz,” he whines. “I shouldn’t have - I know that you don’t want that. Neither do I. I just mean that … you’re allowed to, like, complain. You’re allowed to fight back. You’re allowed to tell me when I’m being a prat - Or when I’ve hurt you. None of that would make you a bad person. None of that would put us back where we were. All it would mean is that I know what you’re feeling. What you’re really feeling. I want to know. Even if you think I don’t.”

“You know what I’m feeling,” I plead. “I keep on telling you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, apparently unconvinced.

“Only sometimes. And half the time you ‘telling me’ is just you saying you’re fine when you’re not. I know it is. You’re hard to read, but even you slip sometimes,, and I can tell that I’ve hurt you, or that something is bothering you, but you just … don’t say.”

“No, but … even if things aren’t necessarily great, I’m still fine. I’m still okay. I’m still happy. I’m not lying to you, Simon. What would be the point?”

“I don’t - I mean, I don’t think you are ‘lying’, exactly. I just - I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m calling you a liar. I know you wouldn’t … do that. But I think, maybe, you honestly do think you’re fine (Which is why you say that you are), when you’re not really.”

“What?” I ask, glancing over at him. “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean. Can you - Can you explain?”

“I don’t know, Baz,” he winces. “I just - I’ve been speaking to Penny … about you.”

Shifting himself forwards, slightly, he stares, expressionless, in front of him - His gaze a thousand miles from where we are. And I wait for him to elaborate, but it doesn’t come.

“Okay,” I drawl. “And what did Bunce have to say exactly?”

“Um, well … I, like, tried to explain to her what I think you’re doing - You know, when she pulled me out for one of her ‘chats’. And I mean, don’t worry - I didn’t tell her any detail about your personal business, or anything. I just wanted her to help me understand. And … she said that you sound like you’re in … denial.”

“‘Denial’,” I repeat, confused (And, perhaps, a little defensive). “In denial about what?”

“How you are,” he explains. “I just mean … I think she has a point. I don’t think you’re, like … normal.”

Finally, he looks over at me, and I raise an eyebrow in question - Unsure of what to say.

“Shit. Not like that,” he moans. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just - I’m not good with my words. I just mean that ... while, you may be better on the outside, I think that inside, you’re just as bad as me.”

I pause for a moment, unsteady, trying to find my words. But, unhelpfully, the only one that my brain seems to be capable of supplying right now is ‘Fine’. Maybe they do have a point, after all.

“Snow,” I huff. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want you to. I’m perfectly normal … mentally.”

“But you would say that! I really don’t think that you are, though. You’ve never been fine. Not the whole time I’ve known you, Baz.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. “I. Am. Fine.”

He looks at me like it’s a lie; but it’s not. I mean it. And while I will concede that perhaps I’ve had a few moments of … concern, compared to him I’m golden. He’s the priority right now, not me. Because despite whatever may have happened in the past, I’m fine now. I can cope. Whereas he … well, I’m not sure that he can.

“Then what was that night in the forest about? Hm?” He challenges.

I steel, suddenly - His words suffocating my body.

We both know what was happening in the forest that night, but we’ve never actually spoken about it properly (There was no need to - I coped). I was overwhelmed and I acted a little … rashly. A moment of weakness - Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not like I’d ever try to do it again.

“That was a blip,” I dismiss.

He scoffs - Dull and unamused. “You can hardly call that a ‘blip’, Baz. I mean ... what if I wasn’t there. What would you have done? -”

I don’t answer him, because I can’t. I don’t know for sure what I would have done. Maybe I would’ve … gone through with it. But maybe I would’ve snapped out of it - I always had before.

Mercifully, though, he spares me the discomfort of having to reply.

“- And even if it was a ‘blip’ (Which it isn’t), what about the night I found you in the catacombs? Or all the nightmares? Or all your family stuff? Or how stressed you get about school - How hard you push yourself? Or the whole vampire thing? Or everything that happened with … Lamb?”

I cut him off before he can continue (Since I really don’t need a list of all things I’ve been weak enough to let my hurt show over). “I’ve told you there was nothing with Lamb. He convinced me that he could help. And I was playing a part, just like I was supposed to - I didn’t mean to make it sound like …”

“I know,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean like that. I know that. I just meant - I mean, I could tell that you were beating yourself up over it - over what he’d done - but … you were only trying to help us find Agatha. You couldn’t have known.”

“Okay.”

“But … that wasn’t my point. Specifics don’t really matter. My point was that … you’re not ‘fine’. And I know that … I’m not either. But, I just wish that you didn’t feel like you have to pretend to be perfect and unbothered all the time, because of me. You should be able to get help, too. You should be able to … feel whatever it is that you’re feeling, without panicking about someone else seeing.”

“So … you’re saying that, really, we’re just as bad as one another?”

“Sort of. I mean … it’s not, like, a contest, or something. I just meant that, maybe, we’re both not exactly one hundred percent.”

I laugh, bitterly. “We match.”

“We match,” he echoes, nodding his head.

“But even if what you’re saying has some merit -”

“Which it does!” he interrupts.

Glaring over at him, I roll my eyes, but don’t object.

“- Which maybe it does. I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up now. How I am is irrelevant to my little ... confession. And it doesn’t affect my ability to be honest with you?”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Just … let me try to explain, then.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Go ahead, Snow. I’m listening.”

“I’m bringing it up now because … I don’t want you to hide yourself away from me, anymore. It’s getting us nowhere. I just want - I mean, I want you to try and … not to do that. If you want something, ask. If I’ve upset you, say. If I’m being unreasonable, let me know. Don’t just … sit there and take it because you think it’s the noble thing to do, Baz. Please. I know that I … do the same sort of thing sometimes, but I don’t want you to, as well. I just - I don’t know how to tell what’s real or what’s just something you’re doing to try and be kind - Or to, like, protect yourself, I guess?”

I gawp over at him, chest heaving unsteadily.

He definitely has a point. I’ve been walking on eggshells around him for months. Carefully skirting around all that I want - all that I feel - in an attempt to stop it from consuming me. From consuming us. Convinced that it would destroy us both - Everything inside of me far too large, and hungry, and frightening, to handle.

“I just think that, if I know that you’re being … open with me, then it will be easier for me to believe you. To … believe all the nice things that you say or do, rather than questioning why you’re doing them. Whether it’s ‘cause you want to, or ‘cause you think it’s because that’s what I need from you in the moment, or ‘cause now’s the only ‘safe’ time to do it. I know … you’re not lying when you say you’re okay, but I think maybe you’re oversimplifying things, or, like, hiding the bad bits of how you feel. I just … if you say instead, it might help us. You won’t have to be so … frightened. And I might find it easier to accept what you say at face value, you know? I don’t know … maybe it’s stupid.”

Exhaling, he stares down at the floor, gnawing at his bottom lip, anxiously - His words heavy on my mind.

And, swallowing my pride, I speak - My voice crackling with emotion: “It’s not stupid. It makes sense, I - understand where you’re coming from. And, given that, I promise that I’ll ... try to be a little more forthcoming about how I’m feeling - More accurately descriptive. Even if it isn’t, necessarily, what I think you might want to hear.”

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Really.”

“Good,” he says, lips sparking upwards into a faint smile at my offer.

“But … I’m somewhat apprehensive about it?” I break.

“‘Apprehensive’? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to end up accidentally pushing you further away from me. You’re already so … far, sometimes. Talking about how I feel really isn’t essential for me. I’ve always managed perfectly well without doing it, before -” He scrunches up his face, clearly objecting, but he let’s me continue uninterrupted, this time. “- I don’t mind being … cautious. I like being cautious. If I just blurt out every single thing I’m thinking or feeling, you may … get the wrong idea. And it’s not that everything I think about us is negative, or anything like that, it’s just … occasionally a little bleak. You already doubt that I’m committed to this - that I still want this - and I'm do everything I can to prove it to you, but I’m not sure that the message has gotten through to you. I want to stay. I want you to stay. I want us to be … together. And, I’m afraid that, if I’m entirely open, I may scare you away. That you’ll mistake my … desperation, for dissatisfaction or unhappiness, and think that I don’t want you. When I do."

He nods, understanding.

“The absolute last thing that I want to do, is to mess this up,” I continue. “And, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re asking for won’t end up doing that. I just … want you to be sure that this is really what you want, before we go ahead and commit to it.”

“I know,” he whispers, sliding closer to me and grabbing hold of my hands. “I don’t want any of that bad stuff to happen, either, but I’m sure that this is what I want. I want to try it. Avoiding how you feel isn’t helping either of us, but ... maybe this will.”

“You avoid things, too,” I argue. “I understand that you don’t want to seek professional help at this point, and that’s your prerogative - But you still refuse to talk to Bunce and I about how you’re feeling. How is that any different to what I’m doing? Surely that isn’t helping us, either?”

As the words pour out of my mouth, my stomach pangs with shame. I don’t know why I’m, seemingly, so keen on shifting the blame over to him. We were working towards a resolution, and none of this is his fault (I’ve never thought that it was his fault). But maybe I’m just too cowardly to admit that my attempts to help have only hindered us. Maybe I just don’t want to bear the viscous twisting of guilt alone. Or maybe I’m just an arsehole (It wouldn’t surprise me. As much as I try to be a ‘good’ person, I so frequently miss the mark. It’s a wonder somebody as righteous as Simon can even tolerate my presence, to be honest, yet alone enjoy it).

He doesn’t rise to the bait, though - Just sighs tiredly, and thunks his head down onto the edge of my shoulder.

“I know I do. And you’re right … that doesn’t help us, either. But - I promise to try and stop, if you do. I want to get better, Baz,” he chokes. “I want us to get better.”

Lulling my head over, I look at him - His Adam’s Apple bobbing, showily, and his boring blue eyes brimmed with tears. And, utterly overcome, I press a quick kiss to his hairline - Chaste and feather-light.

“I want that too,” I admit, mumbling against him. “So we can do it together. I’ll do my best to be open with you about the more … difficult things, and you do your best to reciprocate. Sounds simple enough.”

It really doesn’t, if I’m honest. It sounds about as much fun as pulling teeth. But if this is what he wants - if this is what he needs - then who am I to argue? Trying something is better than trying nothing, after all.

“With our track record, probably not,” he chuckles. “We really aren’t very good at this.”

“True,” I breath. “But I’ve always loved a challenge, Snow. Why’d you think I went after the one guy I couldn’t have?”

“Because you couldn’t help it,” he softens, pressing closer - The heat of his face against my chest, welcome in the dwindling temperature of night. “You’ve told me that much.”

“I know. But, Snow… if we’re going to do this, then I need you understand that whatever I say - whatever I think - I still like you as you are, right now. I still like us as we are, right now. I’d rather work with you through a rough patch, than lose you all together. I wouldn’t - I really wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. I choose you, Simon - However ‘you’ may be. Good or bad. Through thick and thin. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll … try to remember. And - I’m sorry … about today. I didn’t mean to mess it all up. I wanted to say it back, I just … panicked. I didn’t mean to - I never mean to ruin things. To ruin us. I really do want to be able to, like, love you properly … ‘Cause I do … love you. I - I love you, Baz.”

Endlessly pleased, I take his face into my fands, and turn him around gently - Meeting his eyes face-to-face. My heart soaring gleefully within my chest at the sight of him - His cheeks flushed and a sweetly shy smile spread across his face. Because there it is - Finally. It’s all out in the open now.

I love him and he loves me.

“You see that is more than ‘proper’ enough for me, Snow,” I beam, impossibly light. “So don’t go giving up on us yet. There will be plenty of time for us to figure out all of our … mess, later. But, I think that we’ve done more than enough talking for one day. So just … forget about all of that right now, and stay with me here. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice wobbling, slightly. “You - Do you wanna’ show me the stars again, then? I’ve forgotten which constellation is which, already.”

“Of course you have,” I laugh. “You’re a hopeless study, I’ve always said so. But yes - It would be my pleasure to reeducate you.”

And so, taking his shoulders in my hands, I roll us over so that he’s flat on his back - Holding myself up above him, and resting our foreheads together. Simon breaking into a smile, beneath me - Wide and bright and shining. And he’s a little bit of a mess - fat streaks of tears still staining his face, and his hair pulled into a wild matte - but it’s everything that I’d wanted. Everything that I’d hoped.

Simon Snow is beautiful when he’s happy.

“Just … one more thing.”

“Anything,” I smile, smoothing his hair backwards.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Basil ... you know what,” he coos.

And I do, so I give it to him without hesitation (We’ve already had more than enough of that):

“I love you, Simon Snow. Now and always.”

And he smiles … and smiles … and smiles.

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #my fic

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who-is-reign · 4 years

Text

Hello, hi, hey

Hi I did a short writing thing- here it is!!

Everything starts with a hello, a hi, a hey. A greeting of some kind. Ours started with something else. It started with a trip, a lot of apologies, and crying. Though I feel like I should probably start at the beginning. That makes more sense anyway.

It all started on what I knew was not going to be a normal day. The day started with two pieces of toast, 3 slices of peaches, and a mug of earl grey tea. Or what I was hoping to be a mug of earl grey tea. I poured the rest of what was left of my mug into a thermos and walked out the door.

3 stairs, take a left, 5 steps forward to the next stairwell. 10 steps down, 5 breathes, 2 stops I could have taken, 7 doors I could see. I ran to my car, even if it was only 5 feet away.

30 minutes and a coffee stop later, I was at work. I work at a publishing firm as the executive editor. I have been there since the start of this company, Indigo Query. I helped with the name of course. Most of the books that I edited are Best Sellers right now. I can’t say I’m not proud of that.

Today is the release date of the first book I wrote. I have babied this book for 4 years. All of the characters are complex and have their own stories. I tried to make it to where there weren’t any background characters. To where there were stories going on behind the scenes, or the main focus of the chapter. It is 1563 pages, 12 pt. Times New Roman font, 468900 words. This book is my literal child. I have had these characters since I was in 6th grade. I only started seriously writing out their story in the last 4 years.

I just realized that you know nothing about me. Maybe that’s for the best. You’ll find out later anyway.

I walked in, went through the cafe, up the elevator, through the small library. I was there, and my book was there. On my desk, I saw a hardcover copy of my book. I almost started crying. Okay, I did start crying. That art was my choice, it was made by one of my oldest friends. I carefully picked up the book, letting my hands run over the almost woven texture of the cover, the embellished sides, and the title. Lastly, my name, small in white coloring. I turned to the copyright page and breathed in. My name is listed as the author and editor. My best friend’s listed as the cover artist. This is what I was meant to do. Write books, edit books, publish books.

I put the book down, I couldn’t read it. Not yet. I needed to meet with Leo Adams, president of the company. He is not the original president, he took over after the old president passed. I personally am not a fan of his. I think he is corrupt and doesn’t deserve the company. The only thing I can hope is that one day this company, my home, will get a better president. The only reason I stayed with this company, is because of my book. I could leave if I wanted to, other publishing companies have asked if I wanted to sign for them.

But I have something in my eyes, something I can’t give up. I want to own Indigo Query. I want to own the thing I love more than anything. This company is my life, my livelihood. I hate seeing a man who doesn’t care about books be in charge of it. I need to save the company I have over a decade of time into. But right now, it is my time. My book is getting released.

I need to focus on that and nothing else. I need to work, that’s what I need to do. What I want doesn’t matter right now, and it won’t matter for a while.

I walked as fast as a caffeinated lesbian could without it being considered running to Leo’s office.

“Ms. Kore, it’s fantastic to see you. And of course congrats on the book release, it looks fantastic already.” Leo’s words drawled on, a slight curve to his phrases. I hated it.

“Of course sir, I couldn’t have had this book released without you,” I replied, trying desperately to keep the ill intent out of my voice.

What I didn’t say, was that of course, I couldn’t have had this book released without you. Even with you, there were so many issues with getting it released. Including the date getting pushed back 6 months. I could have had this book out, and sold by now. But no, he said it was too problematic. It took all of the editors, our cover designers, the VP of the company, and basically everyone to get him to allow it to be sold.

“Though Ms. Kore, I must tell you, I really do not think this book will thrive that much. I just do not want to see you getting hurt. Take the day off, you need to.” I almost scoffed once he said that, but I really only muttered thank you and walked out of the office.

I practically ran to one of my coworker’s desks and sighed completely and utterly overdramatically. This coworker has been my friend since high school and they helped found the company. They also know about my aspiration to own Indigo Query.

“Oliver, I can’t believe him. He literally said that he didn’t think my book would work out and that he just didn’t want me to get hurt.” I groaned and tried to not sound whiny, though I know I did.

“Babe, that is so horrid but also you are so close to literally owning this company. You are so close, and you can’t lose sight of what you have done because our boss is horrible.” I know they’re right, and I am really close, but I need a break.

“I’m leaving for the day, Adams said I had to.” I sighed.

“Girl you have been here for less than an hour, sit down.” Oliver raised their eyebrows and practically forced me to sit at my desk.

I just rolled my eyes and got to work on a new manuscript that came in today. It wasn’t long before my eyes felt like they were going to burst from my head.

“I’m taking a coffee and tea run. Want anything?” I closed the manuscript, my question aimed for Oliver who was holding a red pen and had a red pen tied up in their hair.

“Yes, yes, and yes please darling. You know my order anywhere.” And they were right, their order hasn’t changed since freshman year. Unlike everything else. Oliver used to be really shy, with red curly hair, they didn’t have confidence. And now they talk or flirt with everyone, have longer sunset ombre hair, and have more confidence. I’m proud of them.

I walked out of the building and to the nearest cafe. I ordered Oliver’s, which was a matcha latte with added raspberry syrup, apparently, it was amazing. Then I got a London fog earl grey tea with extra vanilla syrup.

I noticed the cafe had a small bookstore and I walked over there after ordering. I saw something that warmed my heart, my book. I inhaled deeply in shock, already a small bookstore had my book in it. I grabbed a copy and read through some of it. My words, my characters, my world. I get now why it is such a big deal for Oliver every time they see a book they wrote. I only walked away when I heard my name getting called. I grabbed both of the cups and walked away, saying thank you many times.

Close to the door, the not so impossible happened. Someone ran into me, my tea spilled everywhere. Oliver’s drink ended up being safe somehow.

“I am so sorry, I can’t believe myself, I’m so sorry. Deeply sorry. Let me help.” The person who ran into me sputtered out.

“Don’t be sorry it was an accident, it is okay,” I say looking at them softly.

They had hair a little bit longer than their shoulders, it was a coppery red. Their eyes were a shade of amber. That was when I realized.

“Laurette?” I asked, stunned that this may be her.

“Yeah? Do I know-- Persephone!” Laurette hugged me and sighed. “It’s fantastic to see you!”

“Good to see you too. What are you doing these days?”

“Oh! I’m living with Ophelia with our kid. I’m a fashion designer and she is a daycare owner. So she gets her share of kids every day. What about you?” as Ophelia spoke I could practically feel her love for her wife.

“That is fantastic! I’m the chief editor and now an author for a publishing company called Indigo Query. My first book got released today actually. I work with Oliver Evanora.” I was filled to the brim with pride.

“Really? Congrats! I bet the book is amazing! I’ll have to check it out sometime. Tell Oliver I said hi. ” Laurette sighed happily, “Well, it’s been great seeing you, I’m so sorry about the tea. I hope to bump into each other again.”

I smiled and went back up to the counter to grab the tea they remade, gave them a 10 dollar tip, and left. A newfound pleasure seeped through me. I walked back to the office, careful not to spill anything. I gave Oliver their drink and went straight back to work.

4 hours later and the clock showed 5 pm, the day that I had been waiting for years to happen was over. Since I needed desperately to get home, I made Oliver give me a ride home.

“Why didn’t you drive to work? You have a car.” Oliver asked when they were in their car.

“Because I wanted to walk.”

“It’s winter, it is dark at like 4. You can’t walk home when it’s dark. We live in a city, girl.”

I just sighed, they were right anyway. I didn’t think it through.

“Want to get food?” They asked, “Cause I am starving!”

“Nah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Ok girl, whatever you deem useful,” Oliver said, already pulling down my street.

“Thank you so much! Oh and by the way Laurette said hi.” I said as I shut the door.

I went inside and set water on to boil. I started stirring the water clockwise and humming a distant melody. It was almost time. The water started to bubble like an ancient potion that had just been given the final ingredient. I poured the water over a mug, grabbed a tea bag, and let it seep. At this point, the stars were already out and thriving.

After a quick 5 minutes, I grabbed my mug and walked outside into my backyard. I went directly to my shed. My shed was more of my office than a shed. It had a typewriter, my laptop, a shelf filled with different types of teas or coffee. Plants were scattered about, my desk had a big fluffy white chair pushed up to it. Everything was a pastel blue, pink, or white. It didn’t really seem like it was mine, but it was. And it’s more of a home to me than my room is.

I sighed as I sat down on my mug, put on gardening gloves, and grabbed my spade. I went outside and started to get to work. I planted a new rose bush, I replanted my lemon tree that's growing out of their pot. I moved my ever-growing cherry tree to where they’ll get better sun.

All of this I did while humming, or singing in some parts. I am the type of person to sing and talk to my plants. I am also the type of person to own 3 trees and more plants than I can count.

I heard a bang and I flinched, my entire body froze in place, as if any movement would cost me my life.

“Is anyone there?” I whispered, barely to where anyone could hear it.

“Hello, darling” When I heard Oliver’s voice I calmed down, “sorry to scare you babe, but you seem stressed. Thought I’d help.”

“It’s okay, Oli.” I sighed, already putting my spade and gloves away. “So, how did you plan to calm me down?”

“Stargazing with some people from high school,” Oliver replied, smiling.

“Like who?”

“Kira, Raven, Laurette, Ophelia, Lilith--” Oliver was about to continue but I cut them off.

“Okay, I get it, almost everyone. Let’s go.” I said, laughing, “Let me change first.”

Five minutes later I was in Oliver’s car wearing a star printed black layered lace dress and 4-inch heeled black boots.

“Let’s go! I wonder if they all brought their kids! Oh, I can’t wait to see Sabrina or even Litha! I miss my coven friends.” Oliver used to be in a coven at school, it broke up after our senior year.

“Where is the place we’re going anyway?” I asked, playing with my acrylics.

“It’s only 30 minutes away, a small little cabin. Though, we are staying for a week. I took all the clothes that are yours at my house, it’s enough for 7 days. Plus they all look great.”

“What about work?!”My yells could probably be heard by our high school friends.

“I got it covered babe, don’t worry,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone.

“Got it covered? Um, no. My book just got released, I need to be in town.”

“Honey, your book is already almost sold out at 3 stores. I only bought one copy. Your child will be fine.” Oliver sighed as he looked at me, “You need this. More than any of us do. So, I dragged you into the countryside to look at stars and hang out with people from our high school. Don’t you want to see everyone’s kids? I’m pretty sure Ophelia and Laurette are bringing theirs.”

“Okay, fine. I do need this, don’t I?” I pulled out my phone and breathed in.

‘I need this, I need a break. 7 days hanging out with old friends will give that to me.’ I thought as I mindlessly scrolled through twitter.

Then I came across this,

‘Jdjisddsj this book came out today! I already love it! #ScarletDreams #Persephonekore’

“Holy bees, Scarlet Dreams is trending in the literature section on twitter.”

“That’s fantastic, but we’re here.” I looked up and saw a cottage with wildflowers surrounding it, two beehives sitting among the flowers, a few kids running through fields.

We parked next to where a collection of other cars were. Immediately I was pulled into a hug by Ophelia and Laurette.

“I missed you!” Ophelia exclaimed as she pulled away, her child pulling at her sleeve.

“I missed you guys too, it’s fantastic to see you.”

Oliver looked at me, then to everyone and said: “Was I right? Did you need this?”.

I could practically see his fear of him making a mistake, a dark sludge crawling through him, pulling him down and towards his own Tartarus.

“Yeah Oli, I really did. Work was starting to hurt a little.”

A group of three people left the cabin, they were all holding hands and walking right next to each other.

“Oh, hello. I’m Cassandra. I don’t remember you from high school” She said her last sentence more like an inviting question than a statement.

“Hi, I’m Persephone, I didn’t really talk to many people other than who I knew so I can’t expect you to remember me.” I ended my statement with a small laugh, trying to match her tranquillity.

“Babe, you said there wouldn’t be that many people” The person who spoke was as far behind Cassandra and they could be while still holding her hand.

“I wanted you to come, plus I didn’t that many people would show up, darling.” Cassandra's voice was somehow softer than it was before, it seemed as soft as flower petals blooming out to show a beautiful rose.

Or rather the sun urging a rose to show it’s own beauty. Cassandra’s red hair had so much volume it seemed to live on its own, like a red fox laid over her shoulder. She was wearing a vintage lace dress that was white with roses on it, you could tell a petticoat was hiding beneath the layers of the dress from how it poofed out. Her cheeks were a rosy red, and her eyes had pink eyeshadow flowing out from them. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab, and honestly, I wanted her to stab me with them.

As soon as I realized what I was thinking I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure why.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Hi, I’m Jade!” said the other person next to Cassandra.

Her hair was a really big fluffy black braid, purple threaded itself through the braid, and blue and green followed. The braid went to her lower back and was tied with what I thought was a gold string. A black mini dress hugged her sides. A light pink fluffy jacket was partially zipped and fell off her shoulders. The dress went to her lower thighs, then a few inches down my eyes trailed down to her light pink knee-high boots.

“Take a picture and it will last longer darling,” Jade said, the tone of her voice playful yet held enough flirtiness to send shivers up my spine and turn my face red.

“Darling, let's not immediately start to flirt with the new girl. Let’s not kill her on the first day here.” Cassandra spoke, her tone matching Jade’s.

The one who has stayed behind Cassandra the entire time stepped forward, appearing to gain confidence from my embarrassment.

“Why not? She may hold up longer than I did.” They said, their voice was soft yet firm. It held together like a cactus in heavy wind, trying to keep its grip. I felt like that’s the type of person they were, a cactus. Harsh on the outside with spikes and a few flowers to lure you in, but held water and healing on the inside.

I knew my face was painted a shade that countered everything around me and the dress that now seemed to hug me instead of flow around me. Like the petals of a tulip instead of an orchid. My heart sped up and I felt frail, yet held stable by these people who I had only met what seemed hours ago but what I knew was minutes, or even seconds that had just been drawn out to a century.

Then coughing erupted into my thoughts as Oliver shimmed their way in between me and the group, “Let’s go inside, I need warmth.”

“It’s not even cold” I sighed.

“Whatever,” They said as they already started towards the cottage.

As soon as people realized that Oliver had started to walk away, people hurried to follow them. That was Oliver for ya, they could sure direct a crowd.

#writing #writing save #I did a thing #please read this #it took so long #pleaseee #my writing #original characters #original writing #i did this with my brainnn

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

"Maybe I’ll see you in another life/if this one wasn’t enough" from Florence + the Machine prompt lists, for winter13, please?

Sharon is no stranger to knowing tragedy. She sees the way Aunt Peggy’s lips curve up and fall slightly when she talks about knowing Steve Rogers. It’s a life that is not defined, not confirmed. But there was possibility. Sharon knows about possibilities.

When she’s eighteen, she sees him.

Winter Soldier.

The legend that Peggy tells her about.

“I’m not supposed to be telling you,” Peggy whispers. Sharon knows more about SHIELD than she should, but Peggy’s soft when it comes to Sharon. She knows Sharon’s destiny, knows that she needs to know more than the average recruit when she goes into the organization.

“Be careful,” Peggy says. “The Winter Soldier isn’t a myth. He’s real. They remade a man into what they wanted, and that’s...Sharon, you know how dangerous that is.”

She does. She knows that this person, whoever they are, will not hesitate to kill. He won’t listen to any pleas or bargains, because that’s not in his code. He will not stop, will not stray from the mission, and will not look at you--he will look through you.

Her graduation present from her parents is a trip to Europe. She gets to visit Vienna and learn all about old history, carefully taking note of suspicious characters. Peggy has come along to tell her all about World War II and the history of it, rare smiles gracing her face as she explains a prank Sergeant Barnes pulled on the rest of the division or the time Dum-Dum messed up ordering food.

They see him.

Winter Soldier is not on a mission for Director Carter--or rather, former Director Carter. He’s on a mission for someone else.

“We need to follow him,” Peggy says. “Sharon, get the car.”

Sharon has never driven in Europe before. But she manages just fine as she nervously presses on the gas pedal and they zoom forward. Winter Soldier is chasing after someone, and someone who knows it.

Aunt Peggy sees red hair and pauses.

“Sharon, get out of the car. Let me drive.”

Sharon is not allowed to tell her parents that she met Black Widow, or that Peggy dented the car hood by attempting to run over the Winter Soldier.

She also does not tell anyone about the fact that as she opened the car door for Black Widow and her charge, that Winter Soldier tore off his goggles and stared.

That was...unsettling. His eyes were brilliant. She could tell they were a light color from a hundred feet off.

“This your girl?” Natasha Romanoff asks Aunt Peggy.

“Yes.”

“I’m impressed,” she says. “Welcome to SHIELD, Sharon.”

“I’m not inducted in yet.”

“You might as well be, facing off the Winter Soldier,” she says with a snort. “Come on. Peggy, we need to start training.”

Sharon starts during college. She still goes to college, although her heart is not completely in it. She finishes her classes with passing grades, gets a degree in sociology, and moves on.

Natasha trains with her and she becomes skilled as all hell.

She still dreams of light eyes staring through her. The dreams are more like nightmares as they get closer and closer.

She sees him again when she’s in New York helping out with protection at an undercover science delegation meeting. Some of the most influential scientists are the ones you never hear about. Sure, they have published papers, but they also have papers that never see the light of day because it would change the fabric of reality as everyone knows it.

Winter Soldier doesn’t spare her a glance, not until she launches herself at him to knock him into an alley.

“Stop,” she hisses.

Sharon didn’t think this through. She most definitely is not on his skill level, and they both know it.

“Let me go,” he says, voice almost dead. “I have a mission.”

“So do I,” she says, “and it involves stopping someone like you.”

“You miss the point of my existence,” he says, almost robotically. “I am not a someone. I am a something.”

“You know the difference. Robots don’t,” Sharon says, dodging a fist that goes slamming into concrete. “Now back the hell off.”

In all of the missions that Winter Soldier can recount, (oh yeah, they’ll let him remember the decapitation but not his own fucking birthday. Classic) most of the agents that are sent to stop him are not this bold.

Because a.) they realize in the moment that they are outmatched and outclassed in every way that matters, and b.) they have accepted death.

Not this girl. No, she’s young and she’s fierce but she knows...she knows something.

This gets him distracted.

And this allows Sharon to be able to slash a knife down his leg, and it’s not the kind of cut that allows continuation to be done. He would survive, but this is gonna slow him down.

Begrudgingly, she has his respect.

He doesn’t tell his handlers about her. He doesn’t know why. Usually he’s fine with revealing anyone who got in his way, and usually someone catches onto the fact that he’s lying and make his brain circuits go pop. But not...not this time.

They believe the fact that a spare part from a crashed car knicked his leg as he jumped down. They stitch him up, give him a good old brain wipe, and send him to the freezer. He’s not sure when the next year will be, if they’ll even let him out again.

(There’s a joke about rent insurance in there somewhere.)

Sharon cut the Winter Soldier. She fucking cut the guy who people said would kill you. She got away.

This isn’t something you brag about. She could but then she’d be an asshole who everyone at the office hates. And instead of them stealing Rumlow’s lunch once a week, it’d be her.

And she likes that Rumlow keeps bringing quality food.

She doesn’t tell anyone. Well...Peggy doesn’t count.

Peggy is riveted, on the edge of her seat.

“You didn’t,” Peggy swears. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” Sharon responds. “But I don’t know what he told whoever he works for. I could be dead, Peggy.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy scoffs. “It’s been more than a week, correct?”

“A month.”

“You just told me this today?! And it’s been a month?!”

“...I didn’t want you to worry.”

“If you had told me the day of, I would have worried. But if they haven’t sent anyone to kill you, your little escapade is safe. Although it does make me curious...”

They sip on tea for a while longer and laugh about Sharon’s father, who is fretting about Sharon all over again. It’s a bi-monthly occasion, very entertaining for Peggy, who knows that Sharon knows a little over a hundred ways to incapacitate someone who’s up against her.

Sharon kisses Peggy goodbye.

Winter Soldier is woken up for another mission.

He remembers a woman with blonde hair and a firm ask for him to “stop.”

There’s a feeling that she’s important. There’s a feeling that Hydra doesn’t know anything about her.

He’s sent to make sure that SHIELD is destroyed.

Great. This is gonna go fantastically, he’s sure.

Sharon really knows what’s going on. Peggy had her suspicions, and made sure that Nick Fury thought outside the box. Hell, that he thought outside the universe. She knew that SHIELD would never be pure of intention. Peggy never was, why would her organization be? Humanity isn’t either.

She knows that Hydra is inside SHIELD and it’s looking for Captain America to be its first example.

Do they know it’s a Wednesday? Like honestly, it’s a Wednesday. It’s two p.m. She thought she would get herself a pizza tonight, make a wine night. Wine Wednesday. It would’ve been fun. Maybe Natasha could’ve come.

But no, Hydra decided they wanted to eliminate threats they couldn’t control so now she’s on the run from the guy the next office space from hers and has to deal with Rumlow bitching about people stealing his sandwiches.

“Your own fault!” Sharon yells, swiping his feet from under him. “You’re also just annoying as fuck!”

She then has to run.

She knows that Natasha and some special agent who was in the flight division are helping Steve and maybe Maria. Probably Maria. They wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had if Maria wasn’t in on it or if she was Hydra.

God, if Maria Hill was Hydra...

Couldn’t think about that travesty now. She has a world to save.

Steve, naturally, has been sort of a disaster. He makes it functional. She sort of wishes that she could make it functional, but she is not able to have that sort of function in her life, unfortunately.

He’s wearing his old uniform. She doesn’t know why, just that he’s stupid. She doesn’t care how carefully the restoration workers at the Smithsonian have repaired it, she knows his levels of stupidity.

And then he turns.

Winter Soldier.

Now, apparently, Bucky Barnes.

What a kick in the goddamn head.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t want to think, she just charges and kicks him out a window.

Steve slams the card in, they save the world, and she’s diving after a man with a metal arm. Metal is also falling from the sky, so you could imagine the level of difficulty she is under.

But she finds him. He’s a heavy guy as she lugs him to the shore, waiting for him to wake up.

“Who the--?” He’s coughing out water, trying to get up.

“I’d suggest you take a vacation,” Sharon says. “I think you have a lot of days saved up.”

Sharon doesn’t know why she leaves him there. She really doesn’t understand why she doesn’t just say “hey, come with me,” and then he decides to join SHIELD and Steve and him can bond over not understanding music apps.

But he needs to have time to himself, she reasons.

“You’re insane,” Natasha says to Sharon. Steve is trying to visit Sam and hang out, so they’re doing their own thing. “You let him go?”

“He needed to find his own life,” Sharon says. “You know Steve likes to define what he knows, and he knows Bucky Barnes. But I think Bucky Barnes isn’t really a sure thing right now. So we’ll find out.”

“Okay.”

“Hey. If I’m meant to have him in this life, great. If not, then that is what it is,” Sharon says.

She doesn’t know that Barnes did not hop a plane to Europe. Not yet, anyway.

No, he’s a block away in an abandoned office building. He’s not sure what he’s doing, just that he doesn’t want to leave anything yet.

She may hold answers. Answers that he wants.

#woo doggie this one is long #lovelyirony writes #winter13 #sharon carter #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #au of winter soldier the movie #also low-key why is this sort of funny #anwyays

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hetalialoverwrites · 4 years

Text

Ways to be Wicked

Part 3

First - Previous - Next

You were snapped back to reality from your dazed state by reporters surrounding you. They chattered loudly and continuously as they snapped photos of you and recorded you. You blinked in surprise, having forgotten that you had been cornered at Beast's statue in front of the school. "Only three days to the Royal Cotillion! Ever think a girl like you would be Lady of the Court?" One of the women asked, making you blink at the underlying jab. "How does it feel to be the most envied girl in Auradon?" A man asked. Your stomach was sinking slowly but surely as they continued, "Well, do you like being (h/c)?" A woman asked, the immediate answer of NO having to be held back. "Is your mother still a villain?" Another woman asked before Ben came over to save you.

Ben cleared his throat and came over, "Okay, alright. Excuse me. The answer is no, Queen Maleficent is not a villain." Ben answered for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and smiling slightly as he felt your wing hover around his back. "Did you ever think you would be with a villain kid?" The woman from earlier asked. Ben chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he leaned forward to speak into her mic, "We're done here." He told her before turning to you and holding you close to his chest. Fairy Godmother came over to shoo the reporters away and Ben whispered in your ear, "How are you feeling?" You leaned up and whispered back, "I'm fine, but I wish they would stop already." You told him truthfully. "How could they stop reporting on your beauty? Everyone should know about it." Ben whispered with a smile and you chuckled and looked at him playfully. Noticing they went away, Ben called, "Thank you, guys." You two looked over at Fairy Godmother. "(Y/n), Ben." She greeted, waiting for only a second as you both responded before leaving.

Ben turned his attention back to you and you sighed in relief. Ben chuckled, "Don't pay any attention to them." You felt a pang in your chest, and you gave him a small smile, "Well that's a lot easier said than done." You told him. "I know, I know..." Ben easily agreed. "You know, maybe we should do something. We should go somewhere. Getaway." Ben suggested and you lit up at the idea of just getting away from everything for a while. "Yeah!" You agreed. "We could-... I have a council meeting. I'm so late." Ben winced as he checked the time. "That's okay! It's okay." You assured him gently. "We'll uh, we'll do it sometime--" Ben was cut off as Evie came over and grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you away as Ben went to kiss your cheek. "If we don't do a fitting for your gown right this minute, you'll be dancing in your bathrobe, okay?" Evie told you before glancing at Ben. "Hi." She greeted before pulling you off, "Let's go. Let's go." You waved goodbye to Ben and met Mal, who had been waiting for you in the dorm.

She immediately got down from her hammock, "Where were you? I searched everywhere!" She walked over, looking at you as Evie made you change into your gown. Mal locked the door with some magic as you stood on the raised platform and let Evie work on the dress. "I was getting mobbed by reporters outside." You replied dully, making Mal frown. You gasped for air as you felt Evie zip up the dress, "E, I can't breathe!" You choked and shifted uncomfortably as the fabric brushed against the joint of your wings. "And the fabric is up too high!" You complained. "You can breathe after Cotillion. And I'll take out some more fabric around the back. Show me your wings so I can see where to cut some out." Evie ordered. You released the spell on your wings and felt Evie marking some fabric to take off. "Okay, now put them away, I need to be able to see the dress," Evie said absentmindedly as she sketched some more. You felt hurt at her words and silently cast a spell on them once again. "E, they are attached to our bodies, we can't just put them away," Mal argued. "That's not what I meant Mal. Don't get so upset, I just meant that I needed to be able to see the dress." Evie responded easily. You frowned and glanced at Mal, sharing a sad look. "Evie...?" You called as she measured your hips. "Hm?"

"Do you ever wonder what we would be doing if we were back on the Isle right now?" You asked, making Mal look up at you in surprise. She was thinking about the same thing... "That's funny." Evie blew off the question before the news cut on loudly. "Ah! Look who’s on TV!" Evie teased with a big smile. You looked over at the TV for a moment, seeing yourself on the screen hardly eating your food. Evie helped you down from the platform and you went over to the sitting area as she watched the news. "As the royal couple continues their tour of the kingdom, they dined with Aladdin and Jasmine. Six months ago, no one thought King Ben and his girlfriend from the wrong side of the bridge would last!" The woman reported, making your heart clench in pain. "No kidding..." You mumbled and fiddled with the class ring on your finger. It was Ben's that he got remade. "(Y/n) must be counting the days until the Royal Cotillion." The reporter said in a fond tone as you started to feel sick. "When she will officially become a Lady of the Court!" The woman finished, making your stomach drop as you remembered some reading you had to finish. Mal caught your expression and tossed the correct book at you. Flicking your hand at the cover, you started to speed read through the entire book.

Evie put down her clipboard and walked over to you with her hands on her hips. "I know Mal's and (Y/n)'s secret to fit in and Ben wouldn't like it." Evie said, looking at the two of you with disappointment as Mal was reading a different book with magic. "Haven't you guys had enough secrets between the two of you already?" Evie asked you. You paused in your reading, halfway through the book before looking at Evie. "Evie, you remember what I was like before I was using my magic to help me. It was a disaster and that was before I got the amount of work I have now." You told her, slightly frustrated. "Well personally, as your best friend and honorary sister, I believe that your magic needs to be put away just like my mirror is in the museum," Evie said, leaning over to look at you. You gave Evie a sharp glare along with Mal at the mention of no longer using your magic. "You didn't have to put your family's mirror in the museum in the first place. You could have left it with your mother or kept it. That was your choice." You told her with a warning clear in your voice.

"And our magic is a part of us, we will not stop using it all together just because some people don't like it." Mal glared her own warning at Evie. "You know I'm right. Ben wouldn't like this." Evie said, sticking to her guns. Hearing Mal growl in frustration, you jumped in, "I am using my magic. End of discussion." You told her firmly before going back to your book and finishing it. "You don't ever miss running wild and breaking all the rules?" Mal asked, finishing hers before you. "Like stealing ad lying and fighting?" Evie asked. "Yeah!" You jumped in. "No! Why would I? Mal, (Y/n)." Evie took your hands and pulled you and Mal over to the TV. "We're in Auradon now. A land of opportunities! We can do whatever we want here. Be whatever we want! So... Please, let's just keep the past in the past." Evie looked at you two pleadingly. You hid the pain in your eyes as her words dug into yours and Mal's chests. You didn't even get to be yourself here and since Mal is helping you through this, she isn't either. "Besides, look at the shoes!" Evie fawned over the ugliest pair of shoes you had ever seen in your life. They matched the horrible golden yellow and blue dress you were in perfectly. "Yeah. Severe." Mal replied dully before taking your hand, the both of you comforting each other.

Later that day, you, Jay, Carlos, Mal, and Evie were walking to class. Mal had her hand on your arm as she led your dazed form along behind the others, making sure you weren't going to bump into anything. "(Y/n)." You heard a soft voice call you and you snapped to attention and looked at Jane with a small smile. Carlos stepped in front of her, however. "Hey, Jane." "Hi." "I was wondering... Uh... If you like the carrot cake last night." Carlos asked. "I had the pumpkin pie." Jane laughed slightly, still smiling at Carlos. Carlos stuttered a little before Jay said something and pulled him away as Lonnie arrived. "I have an opening for a fitting at 3, who wants it?" Evie asked. "ME!" Lonnie yelled before giving Jane an apologetic look. "Great. I'll get you later." Evie told Jane before stepping to the side with Lonnie to discuss. "Okay, (Y/n)!" Jane stepped forward quickly and you smiled at her, "Yes?" You asked. "I hate to keep bugging you, but the decorating committee needs more answers. So as much as I hate to... Um..." Jane trailed off. "Bug me? Yeah, it's alright Jane, I just have to get to class with Mal." You said, trying to step around her before Jane stepped in once again. Mal gave her a warning look that Jane semi-ignored. "Just nod if you like it!" Jane chirped before listing off a ton of things, "Chair swags. Entry banner. Twinkle lights. Napkin design. Table bunting. And you still haven't picked the party favors yet." Jane read off quickly, swiping through images on her tablet.

"Jane, I think you guys are doing a wonderful job, whatever you think is be--" "I mean, we can do chains, key chains, pen toppers-- Personally, I love the pen toppers-" Jane was cut off as your eyes suddenly glowed amber and you stiffened. Closing your eyes tightly, you took in a deep breath and reeled in your chaotic magic. It was reacting as if you were in danger or something was harming you. "...I think chains and pen toppers!" You chirped at her, forcing a wide grin onto your face to calm her nerves. Mal looked at you worriedly before Evie and Lonnie came over, huge grins on their faces. "I can hardly wait to see what your wedding will look like!" Lonnie exclaimed. You tensed, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you. "Wait, what?" You asked, eyes wide with shock. "The Royal Cotillion is like getting engaged to be engaged to be engaged," Jane told you like it was obvious. "I knew it!" Evie squealed. Lonnie laughed and rolled her eyes, "Everyone knows it!" "I didn't know it!" You exclaimed, looking at your sister frantically only to see she was just as shocked as you were. Starting to panic, you quivered and held your books tighter.

"WassomeonegoingtotellmethatIhadtospeedupliterallyallmyplansontopofalltheworkIhavetodonow, doyouknowhowlongittakestoplanawedding, howamIsupposedtogeteverything--" "Hey (Y/n)." Ben's voice stopped your frantic speech and you spun around to find he was right in front of you, a warm smile on his face. You gasped as the three girls greeted him, "Hi Ben." You mentally glared at them for their teasing tone. "Oh, uh, quick moment." Jane took ahold of Ben's sleeve, pulling him away from you as he went to kiss you. Holding onto Mal with a death grip, you stuttered out, "B-Bye Ben." "Oh, uh, bye." He replied before Mal took you away into the forest by the school. You both flew up into the trees and sat down on the branches. "(Y/n)..." Mal reached out and held your hand. "It's okay. We can just start planning sooner than we thought. It will be fine." She soothed. "Everything is going too fast, Mal. I thought I wouldn't have to worry about this for a long time, how am I supposed to plan our wedding on top of everything I have to do to be a Lady of the Court?" You asked, tearing up. "We can ask Aurora and Mom to help out with the planning. I'm sure the other women can help too. You don't have to do everything by yourself. You know I will always be here for you. Aurora, Mom, and our people will always be here for you." She told you, smiling a little. You managed a small smile back to her, "Thanks Mal..."

#descendants #reader insert #descendants au #ben x reader #romance #mirror mirror #crossover #fanficiton #maleficent

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fancat-not-fangirl · 4 years

Text

It’s Not You Pt.9

a/n: ok so that took wayyyy longer than expected SORRY :/ (for those of you who haven’t seen Princess Bride, it’s an amazing movie and I totally recommend watching it)

3 weeks later

24 hours. Cas was 24 hours away from Saturday. 24 long, grueling, endless hours. He didn’t think he could wait that long. Yes he’d made it through the four previous days, but now that he only had mere hours until Saturday, Cas thought that the waiting would never end.

Because since he saw Dean Winchester’s car drive off the college campus the week before, Cas had been counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds, until he could see him again. Until he could look into those apple green eyes, and count the freckles on his face. Until he could hear that simultaneously soft but husky voice in his ear. Until he could wrap his arms around his soulmate and never let go.

24 hours.

Well, to be exact, 23 hours, 49 minutes and 14 seconds.

All he had to do was get out of bed, manage to sit through his classes without constantly getting distracted, finish his homework, and go to sleep. And then when he’d wake up tomorrow he’d get to finally finally see Dean again.

But first things first, he had to accomplish the first thing on his list. He had to get out of bed.

So Cas heaved himself off of his comfortable mattress and pillow, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he glanced over at Sam’s bed, which was empty. Sam’s first class was at 8:00am, so he was always up and about much earlier than Cas was. Cas, on the other hand, preferred to sleep in, so he specifically chose his first class of the day to be Constitutional Law, which started at 9:00am.

Looking at the clock, Cas let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. It was 8:20.

23 hours, 40 minutes, 38 seconds.

This was going to be a long day.

******

He made it through his first four classes of the day. Barely. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Dean’s smiling face gazing down at him, and Cas practically had to hold his eyes open through most of his morning lectures.

But it was finally lunchtime and Cas took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as he opened the front doors and strolled outside. He grinned and waved at Sam, who was already sitting at their usual table in the courtyard. It was a Friday, and although the weather had gotten colder over the past few weeks, Cas welcomed the chilly air. People were milling around, discussing their weekend plans, inviting each other to various parties. Cas breezed past groups of teachers and students, dropping his bag down at Sam’s table.

Sam already had a mouth full of salad as he tried saying something to Cas before realizing that all that came out was a garbled mess of words with a side of ranch dressing. Cas chuckled and waited for Sam to swallow, sitting down across from his roommate, who seemed to be growing by the minute. Cas nearly had to break his neck with the amount of craning that was necessary to look Sam in the eye. If he was being honest, Cas was probably more familiar with Sam’s various array of flannels than with his facial features.

Sam got the food down quicker than Cas thought was possible; a trait probably inherited from his brother. A brother who they both missed terribly, although for different reasons. Ironically, Sam talked about Dean even more now that he started seeing his brother more often. Before the Columbus Day weekend, Sam would bring Dean many conversations he shared with anyone that’d listen, talking about how much he missed his brother. But once Sam started seeing him at a more regular rate, Dean was all he ever talked about. Well, other than Gabe. Not that Cas minded. He could talk about Gabe for hours, sharing stories upon stories about his older brother. And Dean. Cas couldn’t stop pestering Sam about telling him facts and stories about his soulmate. But he didn’t think that Sam minded either. Any chance Sam had to show off his brother, he’d take it.

“I’m leaving for the weekends.” Sam’s voice brought Cas back to reality. He realized that he’d spaced out, and brought his eyes back around to Sam. “Me and Kevin have to work on a project for my Nutrition and Dietetics class, so I’ll be staying over at his place. I’m leaving with him today after my last class.” Sam winked at him. “Just don’t have too much fun with Dean while I’m gone.”

Cas blushed and quickly looked down. He heard Sam chuckle and raised his head, then whispered with a smirk, “Don’t worry. We’ll be sure not to use your bed.”

Sam choked on his next forkful of salad, and Cas left him that way, grinning from ear to ear as he got up and strode over to the food trucks. What was he in the mood for today? Not sushi or any type of fish. Salads were definitely off the list. Nothing spicy, so that eliminated Mexican and Indian food. Aha. Burgers.

“Double bacon cheeseburger please. No pickles. Thank you.” The line at the truck was short, and Cas placed his order without thinking twice. Wherever he went, wherever he ate, he always ordered the same burger. College was no different. Sam had tried ceaselessly convincing him to try something different. Either to eat one with pickles, or maybe to have BBQ sauce instead of ketchup, but Cas refused. He knew what he liked, and he’d stick to it.

“One double bacon cheeseburger please no pickles thank you.” Came a familiar voice, and Cas started. “Here you go, angel.” And he looked up as the 20 hours, 31 minutes, and 24 seconds came spiraling down to zero. Because Cas found himself looking up into Dean’s smiling face as the older boy stretched out a carefully packaged burger towards Cas.

“What? Dean? You- I don’t-” Dean let out a laugh that made Cas’s heart jump in his chest for the first time that week.

“Hey, Chuck, can you take over for a second?” Dean turned his head and called back to the other man in the truck. A muffled “Sure thing” was heard, and Dean sent Cas a sharp grin as he clambered out of the truck and to Cas, who threw himself into Dean’s arms the second his feet hit the ground.

“I missed you, too.” He whispered into Cas’s hair. They stayed in the embrace for only seconds before Dean grunted and pulled away. “The burger’s leaking ketchup all over my uniform”, he grumbled, viciously trying to wipe off the now red patch on his sleeve. Cas giggled, overjoyed that Dean was here. Remembering Sam, he swiveled around and was about to wave his roommate over when Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

“Sammy already knows.” Cas’s incredulous gaze found Dean’s. Sam knew? And he didn’t tell Cas? If Cas had known that Dean would be here, he would have chosen a different outfit to wear. Oh god, Dean probably thought that his knit cardigan was atrocious. If Cas had known, he would have at least attempted to arrange his hair into a presentable shape. If Cas had known…

“Don’t take it out on him, though. I told him to keep his cakehole shut about it or I’d chop off his balls and feed them to a zebra.” Dean winked at Cas. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Cas’s heart melted at that and he smiled up at Dean, although still a little confused. “Wait, so when did you-”

“Deano! Get your ass back in here!” Came the call from inside the truck. Smiling sheepishly at Cas, Dean ruffled his soulmate’s hair and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “My shift ends at 8:30. I’ll explain everything later.” And with that information he left Cas standing behind the truck and returned to working the job Cas never knew he had.

Feeling a little dazed, Cas walked back to his spot at the table, everything snapping back into focus only when he sat down and was met with hysteric giggling coming from Sam.

“Oh, you should have seen your face!” Sam cackled. “It was definitely worth the wait.”

Blushing now, Cas looked down at his cardigan with a frown and started running his hands through his hair. “You could have told me to dress nicer today”, he mumbled.

Sam laughed and leaned forward on his elbows, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “But then you’d have gotten suspicious. It was better this way.” He giggled again. “The look on your face was priceless, though.”

Cas unwrapped his burger and smiled at the heart draw on the wrapper in sharpie. He hoped it hadn’t bled through onto the actual bun, and was relieved when he didn’t taste sharpie in his first bite. He didn’t know why or how, but this particular burger seemed to taste better than any other burger he’d ever had.

He and Sam finished their food in peace, but Cas’s mind was reeling. Dean? Here? Since when did Dean work in food trucks? And anyway, Cas thought he worked at the repair shop. It surely payed better than serving food, even though he knew that Dean didn’t like the, and he quoted, “Black Hole chock full of people with sequoia trees shoved up their asses”.

He shook his head and remembered that Dean promised that he would explain everything later. After his shift ended at 8:30. Cas smiled and set the timer.

11 hours. 30 min. 22 seconds.

******

Sam had left with Kevin an hour ago, so Cas used the peace and quiet without his roommate to finish his homework. Not that Sam was loud or annoying, but he and Cas always managed to start a conversation about something or other every time they were put in a room together. Whether it be sports, books, movies, art, food, or pencils, they always found something to talk about. Cas would be writing an essay when he’d head a small gasp from Sam’s side of the room, and swivel around just in time to see Sam sit upright in bed and ask Cas if fish felt wet or dry all the time. What would follow would be a long, winded argument ending in them not wanting to take up any more time with discussions and give up. Cas still firmly believed that water was not wet, but he never brought it up again to Sam. With a little smile, Cas decided that he would ask Dean and see what he thought.

Dean. Who would be arriving in 0 hours, 6 minutes, and 47 seconds.

Cas had made and remade his bed twice now, and he almost laughed at the irony. The first time he had heard that Dean was coming over, it had been Sam that went completely Control Freak, neatening his bed and rearranging his books to impress his brother. Now Cas was the one that was going crazy trying to make sure that his room looked presentable.

Realizing that he was pacing the room and probably annoying the hell out of the people on the floor below him, Cas sat down on his bed. His eyes travelled to his signed vinyl record. Dean kept promising that he would play some of his songs for Cas on his guitar, but he never actually did it, something about not risking any “tiny tot college twerps” bringing harm to his Baby 2.0; the guitar. In fact, Cas had never even heard Dean sing. Yes, at times Cas would hear snippets of a song here and there, maybe even some humming. But never any actual singing. Cas made another mental note for himself to ask Dean about his guitar, too.

Cas almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door, and was up and across the room in a flash. He thrust the door open and was met with a bear hug from Dean. Smiling into Dean’s neck, Cas returned the hug and kicked the door shut behind them.

“Hey, angel.” He heard Dean whisper into his hair, which he then placed a soft kiss in. To be honest, Cas loved his new nickname. Well, not exactly new. His mother had been calling him ‘angel’ since he was a kid, and it had always annoyed him. But whenever Dean said it, Cas melted. The way Dean’s mouth formed the word, not to mention the gravelly way he sounded out the letters, almost had Cas on his knees. Like at the moment.

Their mouths collided in a kiss, and Cas moaned and arched his back into Dean. This kiss was hungry. Desperate. As if neither one could get enough of the other, which was true. Cas loved this. Loved the almost feral way Dean’s lips ravaged his own, and the small growls Dean made when Cas’s tongue traced the inside of his mouth.

“You look so damn cute in this”, came the soft murmur from Dean, and before he knew it, Dean’s hands were under his cardigan and all over his skin. Cas inhaled sharply as the warmth from Dean’s calloused fingers seeped into him. They were running up along his back, around his torso, on his chest. Dean was everywhere and Cas didn’t ever want it to stop.

Soon his cardigan was off and on the floor, quickly followed by Dean’s flannel and shirt. Their hands were all over each other, warm and sure. Dean’s mouth now decided to chart its course down Cas’s neck, and he arched his head back to give Dean more access. Dean’s mouth then traveled lower, down, down, down his chest. Cas was gasping, hands woven into Dean’s hair. Every time Dean sucked at a spot of his skin just right, Cas moaned and pulled on Dean’s hair. Dean obviously enjoyed it, and smirked devilishly whenever he got a particularly loud keen out of his soulmate.

And then they were on the bed (not Sam’s, just as promised), and Cas was a writhing mess under Dean’s hands and mouth. They traced his hips, his stomach, his chest. They turned Cas into a moaning, sweating, begging pool of goo that was addicted to the touch of his lover. But this was a healthy addiction. It was one that made Cas the happiest man in the world.

Cas suddenly remembered something.

“Dean?”

Dean stopped his meticulous worshipping of Cas’s body and raised his eyes to meet Cas’s. “Hmm?” He asked, his voice vibrating through Cas’s body, making him shiver.

“Do fish feel wet or dry all the time?”

Dean’s face broke into a smile and he laughed, bringing himself back up to kiss Cas in the mouth. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing. Cas didn’t necessarily care that Dean hadn’t answered his question, because this kiss was slow and soft, nothing like the one they had earlier. Cas couldn’t decide which one he liked better.

When the kiss deepened, he realized that he didn’t have to decide. A kiss from Dean was still a kiss. And Cas loved them all the same.

***

“So, you never answered my question.” Cas poked Dean in the side as they settled down into the blankets to watch a movie the following day. They had just returned from having dinner in the city, where Cas had learned that Dean had taken the job at the food trucks because he was lonely and bored back at the repair shop. Dean admitted that the pay wasn’t as good, but he’d also taken on the morning shift at an indoor pool not far from the college campus. Cas was thrilled at the chance of seeing his boyfriend more often. He still grinned at the thought. Dean was his boyfriend. He never thought that he’d be saying it, but he was glad that he had found his soulmate. And so was his mom. She had been ecstatic when Cas had called and told her that he’d found the person with his name on their wrist. After relaying the whole story of their little mix up to her, his mom had insisted that she get a chance to meet Dean, and invited him to stay at their house for Winter Break. Dean had looked like a happy puppy when Cas had suggested the idea, and had immediately agreed.

During the dinner in the city, Dean, in turn, had also learned that Cas had never seen the movie Princess Bride. From the sound of it, Cas was surprised that such a movie had even peaked Dean’s interest, but Dean had firmly stated that this was a movie worth watching.

So there they were, cuddled together on Cas’s bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows and blankets, Dean’s laptop in front of them. On their way back from dinner, they’d bought popcorn and snacks, and were now up and ready to begin Operation Watch The Girly Movie That Dean Insists Isn’t Girly. Well, they’d be ready if Dean could just get his Amazon prime account to work.

And while he was doing that, Cas was determined to wring an answer out of Dean.

“Which question are you referring to?” Dean asked, scrolling through the saved passwords on his phone, trying to find the one for his account.

“The one I asked on Friday.” At Dean’s confused sideways glance, Cas elaborated. “The one about fish. Do they feel wet all the time?”

Dean chuckled and looked up at Cas with those startlingly green eyes. Cas didn’t quite understand how eyes could be that green. Most of the green-eyed people he’d met had more of a dull, stormy sea gray/green colored eyes. But Dean. Dean’s eyes were different. Something about them was so bright, as if they were a field where the grass was made of emeralds.

“I think that depends on whether or not you think water is wet.” Dean’s voice brought Cas’s mooning and staring to a stop.

“Water is not wet.”

Dean snorted. “Yes it is.”

“No. It’s not.” Cas shook his head. Dean was taking the same approach to this as his brother had.

Arching his eyebrow, Dean said, “Yeah it is. Something is defined as ‘wet’ if it is surrounded by water. Water is surrounded by water, therefore it is wet.”

“But if you look it up, water isn’t wet by itself, only when it comes in contact with other materials.”

“Oh and we should believe everything the Internet tells us. That’s rich.” He then threw up his hands and let out a whoop of triumph as he finally found the correct password to his Amazon account.

Cas rolled his eyes, and decided that they’d save this conversation for another time. Because right now Dean’s arm was around him, pulling him down towards his chest. Cas, in turn, wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and snuggled closer to him, breathing in the scent that had now become so familiar to him. He smiled and sighed in content as Dean’s fingers started tracing soft patterns up and down his back.

The movie started, and everything else soon faded away until it was only him and Dean, giggling during the fight scene between Montoya and Westley, jumping when the R.O.U.S attacked, gasping at Montoya’s fight with Count Rugen, and smiling happily at the end.

And when the movie was over and they pulled the blankets tighter around themselves, Cas had to admit; he had liked the movie more than he first thought he would. But maybe that had a little something to do with the person watching with him. The one that was now enveloping Cas in warmth and burrowing his face in Cas’s neck.

The one that Cas suddenly knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

#supernatural #college au #soulmate au #destiel #sastiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel novak #gabriel novak #au #fluff #destiel fic #it's not you

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