#and then saying 'hmm. okay. good to know.' and then refusing to elaborate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guilty-pleasures21 · 4 months

Text

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

Ahh! I love them so much!!!

0. The slow burn

1. There are too many. TOO MANY!!

Part 1 - the bad day

Part 2 - the injury

Part 3 - the sleepover

Part 4 - the lovesick teenager/the gym

Part 5 - the eyedrops

Warnings: None.

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

It had been a few days since she’d last seen Miguel. The nurses had put her on an IV for two days before clearing her to leave. Then she’d taken another day of rest before returning to HQ to check on Miguel: he hadn’t been to visit her once since their last mission. Not a ‘how are you feeling’ or a simple ‘hola, arañita’, not even through text! She bounced into the control room, her footsteps getting even lighter when she saw him standing on the platform by his computer. “Miguel? Are you busy?”

She webbed up to the platform to stand beside him, but he didn’t look up, refusing to meet her gaze. “Yes.”

“Oh,” she said when he didn’t elaborate. He wasn’t ever so brusque with her - not with her. “Um, I’m fine now! The doctors said I was all right.”

More silence. She took a step closer to him, trying to sneak a glance at whatever he was working on. “Can I help?”

“No.”

Her stomach churned as she wondered if he might be angry. Not at her, maybe, but … She tugged on her chair, dragging it closer to her so she could take a seat beside him.

“I’ll just-” He sighed loudly, interrupting her. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Can you just … go?” She froze, stunned by the response.

“W-What?” He turned back to his screens.

“I don’t need you messing up my missions anymore,” he told her, his voice flat, emotionless. “Just go fight some lowlife criminals from your dimension or something. Seems to be the only thing you’re actually good at.” Her chest tightened at his response, the tears beginning to build up behind her eyes. How could he say that?

“How can you say that, Miguel?” He turned to her, his brows pulled low in a frown.

“Because!” He took a step closer to her, his expression thunderous as he towered over her. “You’re incapable and incompetent! You almost got yourself killed on a mission even Pav and Hobie had no trouble with!” Because she’d saved them! They’d only had no trouble because she was the one who’d defeated Loki, the one who’d saved them all! But the fear was too great for her to speak, seeping into her bones and squeezing around her insides. She curled into herself, backing away from him slowly, meticulously avoiding his gaze.

“How could you be so stupid?!” he continued, taking a step forward every time she took one back. “How could you, of all people, be so dumb?!” She stopped, her foot finding empty space when she tried to take another step backwards.

“Just … go home to your comics or whatever,” he finished, returning to his computer. “I don’t need you here anymore.” She opened her mouth to try to respond, but then shut it again, too terrified to say anything. What if she spoke and another hurtful insult fell from his lips? She slapped her hand over her mouth as a sob slipped out. Then she turned and ran far away from him.

Peter strolled into the room, whistling a tune from one of the cartoons Mayday had started watching recently. It was a cheery tune, one that had gotten stuck in his head and refused to leave. He waved a hand up at Miguel, brooding on the platform as he normally did. “Hey, Miguel! Where’s X? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

Miguel shrugged, not looking at him. “I don’t know. She probably went home or something.”

“Hmm,” Peter began, landing on the platform beside him. “I heard she got injured. Is she okay?” His heart squeezed in his chest at the reminder, his breath catching in his throat. He turned to Peter, scowl on his face.

“Why don't you go ask her yourself?!” Peter held his hands up in surrender.

“Whoa! Hey! What’s wrong, Miguel?” He placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Miguel shrugged it off grumpily. “Miguel. What happened? I talked to Pav and Hobie and they said she got injured and that you were freaking out.” Miguel sniffed.

“I wasn’t … ‘freaking out’,” he mumbled. Peter folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot on the ground, waiting. Finally, Miguel sighed. “She messed up, okay? She did something … stupid and I … I dismissed her.”

“‘Dismissed her’?” Peter echoed. “What does that even mean? And what did she do that was so bad?” Miguel pursed his lips, knowing Peter wasn’t going to like his answer.

“She … She almost got herself killed using Scorpion’s venom.” Again, a lump formed in his throat at the thought. “So, I … I told her to leave. I said we didn’t need her anymore.” ‘I’ - ‘I don’t need you anymore’; that’s what he’d said. He winced as Peter began yelling at him.

“You what?!” Peter exclaimed, waving his hands in the air in disbelief. “How could you say that to her, Miguel?! You know how much she cares about you - I know how much she cares about you; everyone knows how much she cares about you.” He waited until Miguel turned to face him, the shame shining through his features. Then he sighed. Because he cared about her too. Just as much as she cared about him; that was obvious to everyone as well. He returned his hand to Miguel’s shoulder.

“Are you mad at her because she made one mistake? For the first time?” He paused to let the words sink in. “Or are you mad because you were scared you might lose her?”

He sucked in a breath at the memory of her convulsing in his arms, at the fear he’d felt racing through his veins. The fear he’d let push her away, causing him to lose her anyway.

“Go find her, Miguel,” Peter told him. “Apologise. For once in your life.” Miguel narrowed his eyes at that, fixing Peter with an exasperated look. But then he clicked on his watch anyway, opening up a portal to take him to her house.

He landed in the entryway of her apartment, his head almost brushing the ceiling as he looked around. It was small, but cosy; neat, but welcoming. Just like her. Her head popped up over the sofa and she hopped up quickly when she saw him, scurrying over to the light switch by her bedroom to dim the lights. And it killed him. It killed him that, even after he’d hurt her as much he had, she still found it so easy to care for him. He deactivated his mask and called out to her softly. “¿Arañita?”

She flinched at the familiar nickname, the one reserved only for the two of them, and it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head. He clenched his jaw, not caring for the feeling one bit. “What do you want, Miguel?”

Her voice was cold, flat, and she refused to meet his gaze as she spoke, her eyes fixed instead on her own feet. He began making his way over to her, each step slow, careful, like he was worried any sudden movements might cause her to bolt. He reached a hand out, wanting to run his fingers through the strands of her hair, to push it out of her face so he could see those almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks and soft, curved lips. But again, she pulled away, and again, his heart dropped into his stomach. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out and comfort her. And it terrified him. It terrified him how much he wanted to hold her, to pull her into his arms and keep her safe, always. He ground his teeth together, trying to contain his emotions.

“X. I’m sorry,” he began slowly. “For what I said. And how I treated you. I was … I was just scared, that I might … that I might …” He let his words trail off, unable to finish the sentence, the horrible thought that had plagued his mind for the past few days. But she just glared at him, angry now, her eyes red and swollen from how she’d cried earlier. Because of him. Because of what he’d said to her. His heart ached at the sight.

“So?!” she exclaimed. “I was scared too! You didn’t see me throwing a tantrum about it!” She frowned at him, waiting for his excuse. But there was no excuse. He’d made a mistake and he needed to apologise. He’d own up and take accountability for his actions, apologising to her over and over and over again until she forgave him.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I was wrong and … and …”

“You know what?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze still fixed on him. “I am sick and tired of angry men! I’ve already had to grow up around so many, I’m not going to put myself through that again; not if I can help it. And I can help it now: I’m an adult now. I get to decide who I want to keep and who I don’t.”

'Do you want to keep me?’. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if she said she didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I … It won’t happen again. I promise.” She stood her ground, her expression unconvinced. So he pushed on.

“I just-” His voice cracked as the memory came flooding back to him: her, lying in his arms, convulsing as her body tried to rid itself of the venom running through her veins. Her, flopping over, and him not even breathing as he waited, waited for her to wake up, to say something, to do anything. “You were just lying there, arañita! And I … I …”

She let her arms fall back to her sides, her features scrunching up in concern. He was having a panic attack, she recognised it. She crept over to him carefully, trying not to startle him, and bent over to try to catch his gaze. His eyes remained fixed on the floor, wild and restless as he re-lived whatever memories were running through his mind right then. She reached up slowly and took his face in her hands, tilting his head towards her.

“Miguel? I’m okay. I’m okay.” She brushed her thumbs along his cheeks. “Look at me. What colour is my hair?” He hesitated, trying to bring his attention back to the present, to focus on her standing in front of him, waiting for him to respond.

“Brown?”

“And my eyes?”

He stared into her eyes, his breathing slowing down a little as he studied them. “Dark brown.”

“And my tongue?” She stuck her tongue out and wriggled it playfully, trying to retain his attention. He relaxed a little more.

“Pink.” She lowered her hands to his, stroking her thumbs across them.

“Take your gloves off,” she commanded him gently. He complied and she took hold of his hands, curling her fingers around them. “How does my skin feel?”

“Smooth. Cold.” He engulfed her small hands in his large ones, trying to warm her up. She smiled up at him, the curl of her lips beneath her puffy eyes tugging at his heartstrings again.

“And my hair? What does it smell like?” She took a step forward, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He found his own hands landing on her back, and he ran his fingers gently along her spine as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

“It smells … fruity. Citrus-y?”

“I just washed it,” she told him, her voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back to look up at him, her arms still curled loosely around his waist. “Do you want to sit down?” He nodded and she guided him over to the sofa to take a seat. She sank into the cushions beside him, then arranged his arm over the back of the headrest so she could curl up against his side. She reached up, placing two fingers against the side of his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, a tinge of amusement clouding his voice. She sat back to look up at him.

“Feeling for your pulse.” She grabbed his hand and placed his fingers on her neck, moving the other to rest on his neck. “Is it okay? Is your heart still beating too fast?” He remained silent for a moment, counting out the beats as they pulsed against his fingers.

“It’s slowing down now.”

“Try to match mine.” She rolled her eyes, smiling at the thought. “Or less, probably.” His lips twitched at the joke, but he kept his fingers against her neck, measuring the beating of his heart against hers. She ran her fingers along his thigh as she waited, her nails scratching over his skin lightly in a way that kept distracting him from the task at hand. He looked up and studied her carefully, his gaze trailing over her slowly as he reassured himself that she was okay; that she was real and she was safe, her heart pulsing in her chest, the blood rushing through her arteries beneath his fingers. Finally, he dropped his hands back to his lap.

“I think it’s all right now.” She hummed in acknowledgement, then curled back into his side, her body small and soft against his. Eventually, she sat back to look up at him. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” He hesitated, afraid to pose the question.

“Can I … Can I stay over? Just for tonight! I just … I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He avoided her gaze as he waited for her answer. Stupid, it was a stupid question. How stupid of him to reveal just how much he truly cared about her, how embarrassing.

“Of course!” she replied quickly, not even needing to think twice about it. She glanced around her tiny apartment, thinking. “Do you mind sleeping on the sofa? It’s a pull-out! I just don’t think my bed would be big enough for the both of us.”

She understood; she understood exactly what he needed right now - exactly how he was feeling and how to help him feel better. And she made it seem so easy too, as if she didn’t even need to spare a second thought when it came to him. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “My bed … should be. If that’s … If you’re comfortable with that.”

“Sure.” She shrugged, not seeming bothered in the slightest by the idea of sharing a bed with him. She glanced at his suit. “But do you need to go back first?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly feeling back to normal again. “I still have some stuff I need to clear up.”

“Okay. I’ll just call my mum first. Then we can go after.” She leaned back against the sofa. “Do you want to have dinner here though? I can order something.” She was a terrible cook; she’d whined about once before, in the pantry with some of the other Spiders. ‘It’s a curse!’, she’d lamented. ‘Everything I cook turns out both raw and burnt!’. She picked up her phone and began scrolling through it.

“What do you want to eat?” She tapped her phone against her mouth as she considered.

“Roti prata?” Her favourite food - besides the instant noodles he’d tried to ban from HQ to stop her from eating them so often. So he’d made it a regular dish: pizza on Fridays, roti prata on Saturdays. Instant noodles for lunch on Saturdays when she managed to sneak it into the canteen before he caught her too.

“Can I get the one with the chicken and the onion already inside of it? The stuffed one.” She tapped on her phone for a bit, then held it out to him, showing him a picture of what he’d asked for.

“This one?” He nodded in agreement and she added it to the cart. Then she looked up at him again, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she considered him.

“You want one?” she asked him. “Or two …” He sighed, his lips quirking at the ends anyway.

“Mierda, arañita. Why do you always think I can eat so much?” She laughed.

“Uh, because you’re kind of freakin’ huge?!” She poked his broad chest to illustrate her point. “Where else am I supposed to think all this muscle comes from?” He rolled his eyes, trying not to smile.

“One is enough, arañita.” She sank back into her seat and shrugged.

“Suit yourself, big guy.” He frowned and poked her in the side, causing her to shriek and pull away immediately - because she was so painfully ticklish. She glared up at him, blowing away a loose curl that had fallen into her eyes.

“You’re so mean, Miguel.” He scoffed incredulously.

“You’re the one calling me big!” And suddenly, it was easy again, easier than it had been in a long time. But just with her - only with her. She trailed her gaze over him, appraising him carefully and biting on her lip in a way that had the blood rushing to his neck. She tapped her phone on her mouth again, giving him a suggestive look.

“Are you not?” F*ck. His breath hitched in his throat and he pushed himself out of his seat, putting some distance between them.

“I should be back in about two hours.” He re-activated his mask and opened up a portal to take him back to HQ. “Hasta luego, arañita.”

“Hasta luego, Miguel.”

She took in his apartment, her eyes wide with disbelief. It was so big! And so fancy! A penthouse suite with two floors and five bedrooms and three bathrooms and a view of the entire city spread out below. It probably could have fit her place six times over! She tiptoed over to the plush grey sofa in the living room, her feet sinking into the fluffy white carpet as she set her pillow down.

“This is your house?” X asked him, her tone dripping with disbelief. Miguel grunted in acknowledgement, setting her water bottle down on the kitchen island before turning around to look at her. He leaned back against the island, folding his arms across his chest.

“Is there something wrong with it?” X shook her head quickly and turned around, making sure to absorb every part of her surroundings fully.

“No!” she reassured him, her expression awestruck as she studied his house. “It’s so big! Are you, like, a rich boy or something?” She turned to look at him, her lips curling in amusement as he gave her a confused look.

“A what?” She grinned.

“A rich boy,” she repeated, gesturing to their surroundings. He turned his eyes away from her, shifting uncomfortably in position.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” She swivelled around, ignoring his discomfort, and began making her way to the balcony.

“Ugh!” she groaned, waving her hands around dramatically. “I’m gonna have to marry you now, Miguel, I have absolutely no choice!”

He froze, unsure if he’d heard her right. ‘Marry’ him? Was that what she’d said? That she’d have to marry him? ‘Have’ to, like she had absolutely no choice in the matter?

“¿Qué?” He looked up, needing to hear her say it again. But she’d disappeared, walking out onto the balcony and leaving him behind. He ran after her.

“¡Arañita! ¡¿Qué?!” He rushed over to where she was standing, gripping onto the railing as she gazed out over the city. “What did you just say?”

She smiled, admiring the bright lights and the buzz of people still dashing through the streets, even when the moon was already so high in the sky. Miguel leaned over, trying to catch her gaze to get her to repeat what she’d said, still unable to believe that she’d actually said it. She refused to look at him, delighting in the puzzled expression on his face as she teased him. “Wow. This is so beautiful, Miguel.”

¡Mierda, she was driving him mad! That relaxed smile on her face as she rejected his attempts to meet her eyes. He straightened, hardening his features and giving her a serious look. “X. What did you say just now?”

“What?” She grinned, finally looking up at him. “When I said I’m gonna have to marry you?” Again, she’d said it again! And so casually too, like it was just a fact of life, something inevitable they’d both have to accept. He gulped and nodded, completely at a loss for words. Her expression softened and she returned her gaze to the city, shuffling closer to him until her arm brushed against his.

“It’s okay,” she continued, her voice reassuring. She leaned over, resting her head against his arm. “I think we’ll be okay. Besides …” She pulled back slightly to look up at him again, her lips still curled into that mischievous smile.

“No one else is ever going to enjoy your company as much as I do. I won’t let them!” Her brows drew together in anger at the very thought, then her face broke into a grin again as she lowered her head back to his arm. How could she … How could she be so relaxed about this?! He gripped onto the railing, considering her words carefully. Was she really serious? He couldn’t tell. Not with that teasing smile she kept giving him every time she said it. But she kept saying it - why would she keep saying it if she didn’t mean it? If she didn’t want it to be true? He slid his gaze over to her, searching her demeanour for some hint as to what she was thinking, some clue. But she continued laying against his arm, her posture relaxed as she looked out at the landscape below them. Did she want it to be true? Did she … He shook the thought away, not wanting to think about it too hard. But what did it mean; if she wanted it to be true? What did it mean about the way she felt about him? And … what did it mean about the way he felt about her? His eyes drifted over to her again, his brain reminding him that he’d asked to stay the night, just so he could check up on her, just so he could make sure she was okay. She yawned suddenly, saving him from having to think about the situation any longer, and began heading back inside.

“Can we watch some TV or something?” she asked him, settling into the sofa. She looked up at him, waiting as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“Uh, um, yeah. Sure.” He sank onto the sofa, careful to leave a little space between them, and turned on the TV. “What do you want to watch?” She thought about it, then shrugged.

“I dunno. What kind of TV do you guys have?” He handed her the remote, unsure as to what she liked, but regretted his decision immediately when she landed on some trashy reality dating show.

“Really?” he asked her incredulously. “This trash?” She grinned and leaned back against the headrest, making herself comfortable.

“It’s nice to know it never gets old.” He rolled his eyes, but said nothing as she continued watching, the ache throbbing inside his chest finally easing up at the sight of her, safe and sound beside him again.

“What’s your favourite colour?” They’d gone to bed a while back, the two of them laying on their separate ends, their eyes trailing over one another as their hearts pounded with the excitement of sharing a bed together. He thought about it.

“Red.” She flashed him a smug smile, one he could easily make out in the dark.

“I knew it.” He rolled his eyes at her response.

“Why? Because it’s the colour of my suit?” She rearranged her features into a knowing expression.

“Guys’ favourite colours are almost always red or blue,” she informed him. “You seem more like a red guy than a blue guy though.”

“Because I’m angry all the time?” He tried to keep his tone light, neutral, but it gnawed at his heart, how much he’d hurt her because of his fear. He really needed to manage his temper.

“No,” she reassured him softly. “You’re not angry all the time. You just seem more like someone who’ll go out and do things instead of sitting back and letting them pass you by. Red.” His lips twitched at her response, amused. Who knew a person’s favourite colour could tell you so much about them?

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple,” she replied immediately. “But that’s because of Barney.”

“Barney?” he repeated, confused.

“This big purple dinosaur I used to watch as a kid,” she explained. “He was my first crush.” She gave a dreamy smile, knowing he’d be able to make out the expression in the dark. His brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Your first crush was a big purple dinosaur?” She laughed.

“Don’t worry, it gets worse from there. I also like Simba. And then probably Shahrukh Khan.” A brief silence fell over them as he attempted to come up with a response.

“I have never heard of any of these people.” She chuckled again.

“I’ll show you one day,” she assured him. “What’s your favourite animal? And don’t say Spider!” Favourite animal now? What secrets would that reveal about him?

“Technically,” he began, his tone matter of fact, “a spider isn’t an animal. It’s an-”

“Arachnid,” she finished, her voice softening with awe. “So it doesn’t fall into the kingdom Animalia.” A pause. And then she spoke in a dramatic whisper.

“I think I’m in love with you, Miguel.”

He froze, taken aback by the sudden confession. But did she mean it? Or was she just joking? Was she joking when she’d said it earlier; that she’d wanted to marry him? Or had she meant it then, just as she meant it now? He ground his teeth together, frustrated by her constant teasing. Santo cielo, she was going to drive him mad if she kept carrying on like this! He tried to brush it aside, to match her nonchalance, the casual tone she continued to use on him.

“Not the usual response.” She gave him a wicked smile and his stomach flipped over at the sight.

“What? You wanted me to call you a huge nerd?” He frowned.

“Arañita,” he chastised her, his tone warning. She cuddled her pillow tighter, shuffling over to him slightly.

“It’s okay,” she told him gently. Then she lowered her voice, leaning into him like she was about to tell him a secret. “I think it’s kind of sexy.”

‘¡Ay, coño, arañita!’ he wanted to yell. ‘Stop messing with my head like that!’ But then she'd just give him that innocent look, asking him ‘like what, Miguel? How am I messing with your head?’ And she'd flash him that devious grin again, the one that made the adrenaline rush through his veins in anticipation of what she might do next - how she might tease him, getting him hot under the collar all while keeping that playful expression on her face. He swallowed, trying to come up with a very unsexy response.

“Because you're a huge nerd too?” He winced as it came out a little louder than expected - a little too desperate, he worried. But it didn't matter, because she still outwitted him anyway.

“You think I'm sexy?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and he fought to suppress a groan. He wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t think about how sexy she really was, her delicious curves making his mouth water with longing every time she stretched herself out. ¡Ay, coño, she was going to be the death of him one day!

“Good to sleep, arañita,” he grumbled, pulling the covers tighter over himself. She chuckled, delighted by how easy it was to fluster him.

“Good night, Miguel!

“Buenas noches, arañita.”

Tags: @leahnicole1219 @heubstr

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel fluff #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut

26 notes · View notes

liskantope · 10 months

Note

On the whole SCOTUS ruling, I think it depends if you considered providing a certain good as endorsement of a particular message or just providing a service that is seen a apolitical by a majority of the population (i.e., baking a cake/creating a website for a gay couple).

Hmm I started to write a request for elaboration (preferably in a reblog) since I was having trouble interpreting your point, but now what I think you're suggesting is that for a certain minority of wedding website designers, having to do a website for a same-sex marriage feels tantamount to affirming a message they don't believe in, while to much of the rest of society it feels apolitical.

Which is probably true to a large extent, although it initially runs counter to my intuition since by now I'm so used to the treatment of everything featuring gay couples as political by much of progressive culture along with a more general Everything Is Political mentality. Of course I'd like to see a day where nobody views the existence of a professionally-made website for a same-sex wedding as political, but it often feels like we'll never get there.

Anyway, here's a thought experiment, which I was planning to write in a separate post anyway but might as well put into this answer.

Suppose a couple (doesn't matter if it's same- or opposite-sex, but let's say both people are white) walks into a small wedding website company, and it turns out that this couple is going to get married at the site of an old plantation in the South. The people who run the company are committed to adhering to anti-racist values and see plantation weddings as racist. (I've seen social media posts criticizing such wedding locations as offensive/racist and am inclined to agree, at least mildly.) So they want to refuse these customers.

Now should they be granted the legal right to refuse to create something that goes against their particular anti-racism beliefs? I would say yes. (And of course one upshot of this is that if they're in a not-very-progressive area where plantation weddings are popular and a lot of people think the company is being needlessly fussy/discriminatory, they'll lose a lot of business for choosing to stick to their values, and that's the way it goes.)

This example also fits your suggestion of certain companies feeling like it (in this case, making a website for a plantation wedding) is a political statement while it may not occur to most people that it's a political statement, although I don't know that this leads to any point in particular.

Anyway, I think if I were to ask, "What's the substantial difference between that and the Supreme Court case?", the answer I'd get from most people would be that the Supreme Court case does involve a certain marginalized identity category, and there should be protections for people with marginalized identities. Preference For Getting Married At An Old Southern Plantation, after all, isn't exactly an identity. And okay, I can see it like this when I squint at it one way, but it also seems to me like the very concept of identities is getting murkier nowadays, in particular the distinction between preferences and innate characteristics among other things, and wouldn't it be cleaner from a legal perspective to frame things from the point of view of creative expression?

(It's late, I'm sleep-deprived, and I'm not sure I'm being morally or intellectually reasonable in that last paragraph particularly, so I'm stamping it with a low level of confidence.)

#same sex marriage #scotus #racism #identity

4 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-28 · 5 months

Text

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 24a

*Warning Adult Content*

Away - Part 1 - Koa

I wake up to my throat absolutely parched and my mouth feeling as if it's full of cotton.

I sit up, coughing, spotting a glass of amber liquid on the nightstand and guzzling it down, noting the strange taste.

My head pounds, courtesy of the liquor Rafael gave me last night.

Shit, I'll have to apologize to Morgan too for making him have to watch Oliver.

I yawn, about to fall back into the pillows when I spot a piece of parchment on the nightstand.

I pick it up, observing the neat scrawl across the paper.

Good morning, don't trouble yourself with coming to training today if you aren't feeling well. I left some of my mother's tonic for you, it will help with your headache.

Oh, so that's what that glass of stuff I drank was.

Moon Goddess, how is he so considerate?

I can't imagine why someone would worry so much over me.

I continue reading the note, the excitement in my chest building.

I enjoyed our night together, Koa. You were far more beautiful than the moon. Cyrus

I don't think my grin can get any wider.

I clutch the parchment to my chest, falling back on the bed and squealing.

I kick my legs in the air, pure giddiness overcoming me.

He thinks I'm beautiful.

Me.

I'm walking to the training field after having breakfast with Oliver and Morgan before school and I don't know how to act when I get there.

Do I even acknowledge the note?

Do I thank him?

Am I even allowed to be this happy over a note that might've just been out of courtesy?

My wolf whines at my doubts.

He's excited to see Cyrus and doesn't want me to bum us out.

I suck in a breath. Okay.

I can do that.

No more negative thoughts.

It's going to be a fun day.

Is what I thought but when I get to training, Cyrus is locked in a tense conversation with Xavier, their voices hushed and I'm unable to hear anything.

When they spot me approaching, they go silent.

Way to be subtle about it, guys.

Now I'm pretty curious.

"Why the long faces?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood with my arrival.

Cyrus glances anxiously at me, clearing his throat.

"It's nothing," he says, voice curt and final.

The way the words come out stings, like he's annoyed with me for asking.

I put my hands on my hips.

"What?"

"It's none of your concern, Koa" he refuses to elaborate and Xavier takes it as his signal to depart, bowing his head briefly.

Alright, then.

So he's going to be like that.

"Hmm, got it. Guess it's some top-secret Alpha stuff dumb Omegas like me can't know about," I stride past Cyrus coldly to the changing building, gripping my fighting leathers tightly.

"Wait, my Moon, please don't misunderstand," I hear Cyrus coming after me.

I whip around to face him.

"What am I misunderstanding? I'm thinking that you're acting like a real dick right now, which is exactly what's happening,"

I'm about to storm off again but he suddenly reaches out, grabbing my hand in his.

The sincere, apologetic look in his eyes is the only thing that stops me from pulling out his grip.

My wolf also doesn't mind the touch of our mate, however little it may be.

"I'm sorry for being short with you."

I find myself looking up at him, getting lost in those icy blue eyes of his.

I'm usually not weak to apologies.

So why is my resolve already crumbling, my initial flare of annoyance gone as quickly as it came?

"W-well, I guess I forgive you. If you can explain," I stubbornly add that part at the end to try and save any semblance of dignity I have left.

I'm acting like a total pushover, ugh.

What has happened to me?

"Complicated matters... involving my father," he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair in a stressed manner.

Whatever it may be, it's definitely taking a toll on him.

I feel bad, so I make the quick decision not to pry further.

"Well I'm just glad the guy who said I'm more beautiful than the moon hasn't switched up on me all of a sudden," I smirk, poking him in the bicep.

At that, his pale face colors.

"So you read the note."

Teasing Cyrus has got to be one of my favorite things to do.

Look at him getting all flustered.

"Of course, I read it. Did you not want me to?"

"No, no..." he trails off, staring off into the distance.

He's like a big puppy and that only makes me want to press on.

"You're avoiding looking at me.

"At that, his eyes dart to mine, throat bobbing.

"Looking at you is dangerous."

I cross my arms, barely able to restrain a smile.

"So it's not only touching me, now? You can't even handle looking?"

His face contorts into a frown.

"You're making fun of me."

"No I'm not...hey..."

I chase after him when he starts walking to the training field.

"You know how beautiful you are, Koa. Rafael lost his wits last night, just to hold you for a few seconds," he bites back, irritation prominent.

At that, I beam.

"I knew it. You're jealous," I pant, barely able to keep up with his long strides.

"Go get changed."

1 note · View note

againtodreaming · 8 months

Note

heyy, for the weirder ask game :3

how do you take your coffee?

what type of person are you?

what kind of day is it?

Thank you so much, Johnny!! <333

so this is really late and answers under the cut bc it turned out so long, sorry!!

Complicated answer bc I actually don't really drink coffee? Ashdjdksj. Like, putting aside the fact that I need to do a special diet due to a disease and the special diet prohibits coffee, I never really liked coffee, too bitter for me (^◇^；). But, I do drink it sometimes when I need to stay awake really late to do homework/study (which technically breaks my diet but I can technically break it once a month plus, emergency situation). Those times I drink it with coconut milk, either coconut/maple/agave syrup or coconut sugar (small amount bc I don't like it when drinks are too sweet), and vanilla.

Type of person...hmm...I'm a human person? Wait, let me think...((went to ask some of my siblings this for some inspiration, one said that i'm "boring (not my fault none of my siblings like to read 🙄), overthinks every little thing all the time (unfortunately true, although during the last year I've just started to being really direct and open to try to avoid spiraling too much), and passionate (she was clearly refraining from bringing up all the times i have annoyed her by talking non-stop about whatever fandom i'm obsessed at the moment or about my wips asdfghj) (she also added later "sighs a lot" which like?!? she's the one who delights on annoying me?!? on purpose!?!) " another one just agreed with boring and then said smth i'm still trying to figure out bc she refused to elaborate so now i'm really confused, and another one just said "you are a Mila" which, okay, at least that answer had more originality than the 2nd one lol))...this is why typology is useful lmao. Okay!! ...this is getting too long ay, sorry, finishing this, I would say I'm trying to go back to being a person after becoming a complete disaster and just not living at all except inside my head basically all my teenage years (which coincided with moving countries, yippee/s) (the moving countries thing was actually the main factor why i was too overwhelmed and other stuff to be able to deal with real life at all lol) (don't get me wrong, i'm really grateful for the moving countries thing, it was just really tough and still dealing with it). Always felt like I didn't fit in during my whole childhood (i did have a good group of friends tho) and that feeling just got super amplified after moving countries lol. All my old friends have remarked that I tend to be really quiet and shy at first (was literally the quietest in class, even the other shy girls opened up by the end of primary school) but after we have known each other for a while, I become super talkative (...I also tend to talk really fast asdfghj, so many amazed comments or complains or pls could u slow down's 😅) (i don't really notice when i go fast unless i've taken coffee bc then, i do go SUPER fast and i have no idea how to slow down) (if possible, i tend to speed up any video I'm watching to 1.5x or 1.75 or 2.0x) (my sister complains that i'm messing up the songs by doing that lol) (...at this point, i feel like i need to add that i'm also the type of person who doesn't know how to get to the point fast and just goes in a huge messy doodle of a labyrinth as a road to get to the point and the journey is usually necessary to my efforts to illustrate the point bc if not, smth would feel like it's missing ig?? i have no idea how to articulate myself fast and concise anyway, so envious of the people who can, so apologies for the huge paragraph asdfghj) (i either talk too little or too much, have tried somewhere to fall somewhere in between but just didn't work, felt too edited and not genuine)

What kind of day it is…I don't know if you have ever tried to surf, I never really learned learned, but my dad did try to teach me a little of it one summer in Peru (with the small waves and a small swimming board), and it was a lot of try and fail and whenever we did it wrong, the wave would yank you and you needed to hold your breath and like, protect yourself ofc, but you also needed to just surrender to the force of the wave and let yourself being spun around until you were close enough to the most shallow part with sand and only then, you were able to force yourself to a stop and stand up. So yeah, that feeling of being dragged underneath the water, where everything feels so fast but slow and blurry and blue and out of your control but the world keeps moving, spinning, pushing you forward, and really, you just need to let the wave finish its course before you are back to the surface where everything feels more real-crisp-sunlight bright and you are finally able to pause long enough to catch your breath…it's sort of like that this week. The wave will pass though.

#asks #mila habla

1 note · View note

iwadori · 3 years

Note

Can you write a pure angst, using 10 and 35 please ( Idc about the characters ) :)

Getting hurt with the haikyu boys part 3 (Iwaizumi)

Part one Part Two Part three

Word count: 2.8K

Genre: pure angst

Authors Note: I am sorry for just how shit it is lol. I had an idea and it kind of got worse as it went along but I hope you like it anyways.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant before you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

Iwaizumi first approached you at your job, some shitty dinner that only paid you enough so you can make ends meet. You could tell he had money, the way he dressed, his demeanor even the way he talked. ‘What was a man like this doing here?’ you thought.

Apparently, he’s seen you around for a while, your city was small you’d only really leave this place if you had a fair god mother or died and of course you are clearly alive and don’t have a fairy god mother...until you met him.

He ordered a coffee, didn’t drink it though (probably knowing that your boss spat it in whenever he was in a bad mood or because he just needed an excuse to be around) just waiting for you to finish your break. You sat in a corner booth for ‘privacy,’ not that anybody was even in the place.

“My names Iwaizumi Hajime” he said keeping a blank facial expression

“What do you wan-”

“Miss L/N, I think I’ll do the talking here. Okay?” he said with a smirk appearing on his face after seeing your slightly shocked face when he revealed knowing your last name.

“I’ve seen you around for a while now, you’re beautiful you know that right?” he said making your cheeks heat up a bit. “Anyways, I think you’re gorgeous and a man like me needs a pretty girl like you on his arms. By the lack of response to my name, I assume you don’t know who I am...but I guess that works in my favour”

Your face is getting bored by the second not really listening as he rambles on about himself, “I need you to be on my arm every night that I go out to one of my boring business meetings.”

“Business meetings?” you ask

“You know, a bunch of ‘business’ people go out and talk ‘business’ together.” he said sarcastically as if you were stupid.

“I know that, I just thought you’d elaborate about it.” You sighed “What do I get out of this?”

“Finally, you’ve gotten to the interesting part, you my dear get money and lots of It” he says finally catching your attention “I’ll pay you 1 million Yen per night, and all your dresses, outfits and expenses will be paid for so you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about finances again” he ‘smiled’ at you.

“What's the catch?” squinting your eyes

“The catch is just that you have to accompany me to all my events.... and you have to stay in my condo.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry dear, it’s a nice place” interrupting you “probably better than any shithole you live in”

“Fine, fine” his words were convincing you “Is there a contract you have for me to sign?” you ask wanting to at least be somewhat ‘protected.’

“No contract, just this verbal agreement. Between me and you right here right now.” he winked “so you’re in agreement of our arrangement?”

“Yes.”

That was your first mistake believing Iwaizumi Hajime.

Sure you could defend yourself now and say ‘I was poor and in need of help’ but you’d know it would just be you in denial talking.

The first time you attended a meeting with Iwaizumi, you came home from quitting your job since Iwaizumi said ‘you’re on my payroll now.’ You found a beautiful red dress laying on your bed accompanied with shoes and accessories and note saying, ‘I trust you to be able to do your own hair and make up my dear – I.H’

You didn’t have any family, or any friends. Most people that have had even a single encounter with you have deemed you to be ‘Not Likeable’ saying you’re not a people person or just lack any sociability. You were stuck in this town because of the debt your father has left you in before he supposedly ‘passed’ away. Leaving you drowning in all his financial woes, meaning you couldn’t go to university or become a professional *insert dream job here* like you wanted to be.

When you exited your building, you saw Iwaizumi leaning against a flashy car parked outside. “You chariot awaits m’lady” he says with a cheeky grin on his face making you roll your eyes. You got in the car and he started driving, humming along to a random song slightly agitating you.

“So, when are you moving to my place? It’s a part of the agreement.” he said in a sing song voice in the tune of what he was humming.

Iwaizumi reminded you of JD from heathers, he was nice when he wanted but he did have a screw loose that was triggered when things didn’t go his way. Like a small child who didn’t get the toy he wanted when he had a million other toys.

Him being the child. You being the toy.

“Our agreement is bullshit, just verbal.” you say mockingly “remember?”

“don’t start with me Y/N I'm not in a pleasant mood today” he says gritting his teeth “and I don’t need you fucking with me tonight.”

He puts his hand on your thigh, a little too harshly making you internally wince. “Okay here’s the rules for the night. You stay on my side for the night, only speak when spoken too, don’t drink too much since no one likes an alcoholic of course.”

“Oh, so all I need to do is sit pretty like a good little girl.” you say sarcastically

“Precisely” he lessens the grip on your thigh making you breathe in relief.

The event was boring to say the least, you did as Iwaizumi said stood next to him with a fake smile plastered on your face all through the night. You’re sure that people did ask you questions, but you were in your own little world only stepping out of it when Iwaizumi either pinched your arm or gripped your thigh.

The end of the night was ‘eventful’ to say the least, before you entered the car a hand wrapped around your waist and you were pulled into a back alley. “We couldn’t end the night so boring, could we?” it was Iwaizumi, of course it was.

He started peppering your neck with kisses and roaming his hands all over your body. He eventually trailed the kisses from your neck to your lips, leading you both into a full blown make out session. It was fast and you couldn’t really think straight. Iwaizumi was getting a bit too forceful, gripping and kissing harder than he needed to, leaving marks as if to say ‘you’re mine now.’

That was your second mistake. Getting sexual with Iwaizumi Hajime.

He said you had to go back to his house which was basically now yours. You complied, obviously had no other choice since he didn’t offer or ask. He told you too.

Waking up in the Iwaizumi residence was an ‘experience.’ Iwaizumi wanted you awake when he was awake and asleep when he was, never giving you a moment too yourself. You swiftly came to the learn of the reason why he wanted you in his ‘care’ (as he called it anyways) he wanted his eyes on you all the time.

You carried on attending the events bored out of your mind and the nights went the same way. Fancy dress, long car ride, not paying attention, getting fucked in the back alley then sleep in Iwaizumi’s expensive silk sheets.

You didn’t know much about Iwaizumi besides what you could find. In the day time, Iwaizumi spends it cooped up in his office whilst giving you the ‘permission’ to roam around the house. Iwaizumi kept all his important stuff in a small box under a creepy floorboard in his basement original idea I know. All the information in there was just stuff about generic stuff about his childhood. Him being brought up into wealth, how much he weighed as a baby and all the allergies and boring shit that he had.

Iwaizumi Hajime was an enigma.

You and Iwaizumi did get along. Sometimes. You did do things that weren’t strictly fucking and going to business meetings. He took you on what you could only be able to describe as dates, and outings showing you off to all his actual friends. That’s when you learnt the difference of the ‘two’ men, Iwaizumi and Hajime.

Although they were the same person by name, Iwaizumi was rough around the edges and cold at heart not caring about you at all. Hajime, whilst still being rough around the edges, basically made you out to be his girlfriend giving you the love and care you needed. You really liked the times when you were with Hajime.

That was your third mistake, falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

As things progressed, your quality of life seemed to dwindle (not that it was great in the first place.) Iwaizumi was barely in the house, claiming that for these particular ‘business meetings’ he didn’t need you.

On one night, a simple phone call definitely changed your whole dynamic.

“Yes babe, I’m coming over tomorrow I can’t wait to see you and the girls again.” he said to the other person on the phone.

“Why do you question my love for you, of course I love you.” he said again

“I love you, the girls even the dumb dog that Haru forced me to get for her 8th birthday I love. You guys are my family. My lovely wife and out girls”

Your stomach churned, you backed out of the hallway that you were in. He had a family, of course he had a family. You went into the guest room, where you kept all your things, you couldn’t do this anymore. Although you pretty much lost all your morals when you formed this whole agreement but you refuse to sleep with a married man with kids. You couldn’t. Being the reason why a family might break up is something you wouldn’t ever do.

Iwaizumi heard all your commotion and entered the guess “Woah darling who’s moving out?” he asked jokingly

“Hmm probably your wife and kids, after they realise their husband is a CHEATER!” you spat

“Woah, woah Y/N” he said getting closer to you “You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about”

“I think I know pretty well; you’ve always been a pompous ass Iwaizumi; it was my bad for thinking that you weren’t married throughout all of this.” You finished packing up as much close as you possible can and headed out the room.

“You need to watch your mouth Y/N” he says aggressively

“Or what Iwaizumi, or should I say Hajime” you shout “Or is that only reserved for your WIFE!”

This seem to really tick him off, “You don’t know anything Y/N, you really think I could love a dirty slut like you? Huh? Well, I didn’t know that you were important enough to be able to know the details of my personal life.”

“I'm not a slut” you mumbled. Which was completely true, Iwaizumi didn’t notice that the first time you slept together was the first time that you slept with anyone.

“repeat that again for me y/n?” he said mockingly

“IM NOT A SLUT!” you shout in his face

“You are what I say you are darling”

“Fuck you.” You try and push past him hard, to get out the house but you’re no match against his anger and brute strength. So, when he slams you against the wall, he banging your head. Leaving you concussed and bleeding. Before you completely pass out all you hear is a repetition of Iwaizumi Hajime murmuring “I'm sorry, I’m sorry” whilst wrapping his arms around your comatose body.

You woke up, thinking that was all a dream but the ache in the back of your head proved otherwise.

“Y/N, darling your awake!” he said making you flinch

You moved away from him when he sat on your bed looking at you with ‘love’ and ‘care’ in his eyes. He goes to stroke your cheek whispering “you’re so be-”

“Fuck off” you say. That bang to the head was a wakeup call literally reminding you of all the hot and cold moments you had with Iwaizumi that you submerged into your head for the sole reason of ‘wanting to be happy.’ But you weren’t happy. Deep down you knew that.

“But y/n, darling I love you.” he said and you closed your eyes shut wanting to tune him out “I love you Y/N.”

“You don’t" you replied back harshly with your eyes still shut tightly

“But I do Y/N, I love you” he repeated the ‘I love you’s’ over and over making you want to scream out in frustation.

“Shut up!” you yelled “You don’t love me, stop saying that” your head throbbing with every word “Just stop. Make it stop! Kill me if you have to! Just make it stop” you say thumping at Iwaizumi’s chest becoming a hysterical crying mess. You weren’t talking about the physical paint he caused you (even though that hurt ALOT) you were talking about the constant heartache it was just being around him.

He didn’t know what to do. So, he just put his arms round you again and you yelled your frustrations about him to him into his chest.

You woke up into a new place, not your old one or Iwaizumis just something brand new.

With a note on your bed side table saying:

‘I love you and I’m sorry’

Making you tear it up and toss it out.

You had no further contact with Iwaizumi, you figured that the new house you lived in was already paid for, but you didn’t want Iwaizumi to show up one day saying that you owed him money so you decided to get a job. A small one, that didn’t require any strenuous Labour or heavy shift times.

It was a few weeks after Iwaizumi left you and you felt sick and heartbroken. After finishing your shift at your job you felt hot headed and extremely ill making you run to your toilet to spill out your guts.

Which lead you to your predicament now.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant befonhre you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

You didn’t know what to do. There was only thing you could do, but you certainly didn’t want that. ‘Call him’ the voice in your head urged. ‘That would be the best option right?’ you thought ‘I mean he did love you afterall...’

It took a whole day of pacing around and wondering on what you should do. But you knew that leaving the situation longer would only make it worse. So you kept his business card on you when he gave it to you since that was the only phone number you had. He was all you actually had.

You called and the phone rang 4 times, your heart beating faster and faster as it rang.

“He-”

“Hello this is Sakura Iwaizumi speaking” a feminine voice said “Who is calling?” you hear someone say in the background. ‘Iwaizumi’ you thought, your face smiling. You realised you haven’t responded so you rushed out

“I’m Y/N L/N, I need to speak with Iwaizumi.”

“Haji dear, there's a girl on the phone for you... someone of the name called Y/N L/N”

You heard muffles in the background and Iwaizumi saying “Just hang up the phone she’s not worth it.” Your heart stung ‘She’s not worth it.’ Did he really mean that? As much as you claim to hate him, you didn’t really. As you’ve said before you always liked his loving and caring side over his cold hearted one.

You put the phone down and just cried, wailing your heart out for him. Why? You don’t really know to be honest. This was all a dumb agreement, he used you because he was bored and he probably already knew you were pregnant from when he gave you that concussion. But ‘he doesn’t want you’ you reminded yourself because ‘I’m not worth it.’

AUTHORS NOTE: once again, i’m sorry lol. But im most likely going to do a part two of my ‘long shot’ series with Akaashi or a character of your choosing.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi headcanons #signedwithane😌

513 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

#Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales x reader

445 notes · View notes

ikleesfiction · 3 years

Text

I'm a fucking alcoholic (with a sweet tooth)

Fandom : Chicago PD TV Word count : 1,623 words Pairing : Jay Halstead x reader Author's note : This is the third one shot of "Will you follow through if I fall for you" fic continuation. It would be better if you read it first. But if you don't, here's the quick summary. Warning : It's fluff. I hope it doesn't end up too cringy?

Disclaimer

◢◤

It is a cold Friday in Chicago. You would say it is super cold since you worked in the warm weather of Los Angeles last week. Jay is coming over to your place after work. Now both of you are snuggling on the couch, watching movies on TV.

"I cannot watch this part," You hide your face in Jay's chest, preparing for the frightening scene. The darkness in the room increases the tension.

"What are you talking about? This is not even a horror movie," Jay looks down at you, bemused.

"Say you! Watching Tom Cruise blowing up a Gallardo distressed me. My soul is crying. It is a nightmare!"

You move out from Jay's embrace to point out the screen where Maggie Q said it is such a nice car. "Yes, it is! Don't do it, Zhen," yell you at the TV.

However, The Lamborghini on screen still went kaboom and was engulfed in fire. "Oh, no!" You put your hand on your heart, feeling devastated.

Jay grins at your silliness, "I'm sorry for your loss," He rubs your back, offering his condolences. However, his smile turns flirty. "If there's anything I can do to ease your pain..."

You play along with his idea. "Hmm, is that so?" Your hands wrap around Jay, pulling him closer. Your nose is tracing his neck, up to his jaw, his cheek. Your lips softly grace his skin, make their way closer to his. Jay wasted no time to kiss you and keep kissing you.

You don't know how long it goes, and you don't care to know. Until Jay moves back abruptly, tilting his head away from you, "Your pho..."

Your lips cut his words as you get on his lap. Jay puts his hands on your waist to stop you, halfheartedly, "Babe, your phone is ringing,"

Your hands curl behind his neck. "Let it ring." You whisper to his ear. Jay shudders when he feels your breath on his neck. Your mouth soon follows to make a mark on the same point. Jay tries to hold himself back from reciprocating the gesture.

Unlike Jay and his work, you got no obligation to pick up your phone. No life or death depends on you tonight. But the phone keeps shrieking. It started to annoy you because Jay stops participating in this make-out session.

"Might be important," This is one of the rare times you want to curse Jay's occupation.

"I assure you it won't be," You try to get Jay back in the game.

"Well, at least you can tell them to call you back later," Jay lands a soft kiss on your forehead. With a loud sigh, you move away from Jay's lap to pick up your phone.

Seeing the caller ID frustrates you even further. "You are interrupting our date night," is the first thing you say to your best friend, Alex, when you receive the call and put it on speaker.

"Hi, Jay!" Alex chirps his greeting, ignoring your complaint.

Jay greets back with a chuckle, "Hey, man. Nice to hear from you," He takes the remote to pause the movie, where Tom Cruise is gunning a Mercedes CLK down the road.

"No, it's not." You grumble under your breath. "What's up? Did you just come up with a song idea that would make Bruno Mars wished he wrote it?"

As a fellow songwriter/producer, you understand that song inspiration could come anytime. But it would still piss you off if Alex insists on working for it tonight.

"Not yet. But we do have a potential project for you,"

"Couldn't it wait until next week?" You moan your refusal. "Jay and I got plans for the weekend,"

"Of course. As long as you promise to pick up your phone when Angelique calls. I know you have been dodging her." Alex chides you.

Huffing your aversion, you lay your head on Jay's lap. In reflex, he plays with your hair. "Who's Angelique? A new talent?" Jay never heard that name before. He is pretty sure that he knows everybody at Pyramid, Alex's record label in Amsterdam where you work for.

Alex starts to explain, "She is a singer. Been around for a while,"

"Country singer, turned bubblegum pop singer, and now I guess she wants to try dance music as well?" You elaborate to Jay and asking Alex at the same time. You have written and produced songs from various genres, but your notable works so far are mostly EDM.

"Maybe," Alex answers casually.

"Angelique..." Jay ponders for a moment before lighting up, "Oh! Is she the one whose songs you keep skipping whenever they pop up, babe?"

Your best friend lets out a big laugh from the other side of the phone. "Angelique wants Y/N to produce her next album, but all of a sudden Y/N here cannot find the receive button on her phone," Alex emphasizes his sarcasm.

"I took yours, didn't I?"

However, Alex begins his interrogation. "Why are you avoiding her calls anyway?"

"I don't wanna work with her," You know you sound petulant.

"Come on, Y/N, it would be great! Angelique's third album sold triple more than her second. Her last single went neck to neck with Taylor Swift's song. Now, she is gonna let you work on her fourth album! Other producers would kill for this opportunity," Alex tries to reason.

Jay whistles, being impressed by the story.

"Well, my boyfriend here is a cop. I don't wanna get involved in any criminal activity," You are intentionally being obtuse. "If it were so great, why don't you do it? You're the one who still works on stage."

"You know people talked about how you could be the next Max Martin, right? Made sense that she asked for you," Alex states. "Angelique doesn't need another artist to perform with her. She needs someone who writes and produces good stuff."

"Every producer could be the next Max Martin if they work hard," You shrug the notion.

Jay looks confused with all these new names. "And Max Martin is...?"

"We are never ever ever getting back together?" Alex starts singing a couple bars to show Jay some examples of Max Martin's works.

"Uh..." Jay doesn't show any recognition.

"ou make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream?" Alex sings another song. Your best friend is nothing but persistent.

"Uhm.." And yet, Jay is still clueless.

"Jay is not keeping up with pop music for the last decade, Lex," You joke to your best friend. "Try some songs from the Backstreet Boys,"

"Hey!" Jay protests. "I know your songs," He smirks at you in full smug. "Especially the ones that were written about me."

You laugh at his adorable and sexy smirk. Sitting up from Jay's lap, you kiss the smug out of him.

"Guys, I'm still here." The flat tone of Alex on the phone stops Jay from taking the kiss further.

You peck a corner of Jay's lips one more time. "Your own fault. Who told you to call during our date night anyway?"

"Since I'm not there to poke and pinch you, I hope Jay could help me convince you to take this project." Your best friend is shameless.

"Is Angelique not a good person or something?" Jay tries to understand the situation. He knows you are a hard worker. It is rare for you to run off from a big project like this. "She ought to be a good singer, right? With all of that achievements,"

You cross your arms and glare at your boyfriend, "It is a prerogative to hate your best friend's exes, no?"

Jay frowns, "Wait, Angelique is Alex's ex?"

"Oh, come on!" groans Alex. "It was years ago!"

"You know how the saying goes. Quote-unquote, "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die”

"That was kinda harsh," Jay comments.

"Your best friend still hates me until now, Jay." You roll your eyes at your boyfriend.

"Mouse doesn't hate you. I even haven't got a chance to tell him about you since he's been deployed," Jay raises his eyebrows.

"She meant your work partner," Alex answers Jay for you.

Jay frowns deeper, "Hailey doesn't hate you."

"Wanna bet on that?" You challenge him.

Alex prevents the couple from bickering further, "Guys, listen! Angelique and I broke up amicably. There were no hard feelings between us now,"

"Excuse you!" You exclaim. "I still remember those dark days. You cried over so many Tequila bottles. And those boxes of chocolate!! Why did we have to consume that much chocolate over a breakup?? My waistline did not come back to its original measurement for three months!!"

Jay lets out an amused snort.

"Oh, you don't get to talk, man!" Alex hits the couple back. "Your temporary breakup also forced me to replenish my Jenever stocks! I got bakeries phone numbers on speed dial for chocolate cake emergencies!"

Jay puts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. You guys continue to discuss business," He stands up from the couch. "I'm gonna go warm up some pie," Jay gestures to the kitchen area. "Alex, it's nice to catch up with you. Hope the next time we talk, it would be more social and less about business,"

"And you, love, try to listen to what Alex offers first before you cut him off," Jay bends down to kiss your lips teasingly. "Please don't pull out any bottles with more than 40% alcohol content. I need you sober for our plans tonight." He winks at you before moving to the kitchen, leaving you to deal with your pushy best friend alone.

+x Taglist +x

@lorenakaspersen @life-treatments @itsdesiree86

Foot Note: - Tom Cruise and Maggie Q blew up a Lamborghini Gallardo in Mission: Impossible III (2006). All of the MI movies are classics in my household. - Max Martin is a Swedish record producer, songwriter. You might not know his name, but I'm sure you know his songs. In reference to this fic, he co-wrote and co-produced Taylor Swift's "We are never ever ever getting back together", co-wrote Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream", co-wrote and co-produced some of Backstreet Boys' biggest hits. - "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die" line is taken from Henrietta Wilson on 9-1-1 TV Series S02E04 "Stuck". I thought it was hilarious. The line became the reason for this particular fic's existence.

I'm sorry for the long note. Thank you for reading this fic and the note. You are so welcome to reply, ask or tag me. We can talk about music, series or Jesse Lee Soffer's abs. :p

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fic #one Chicago fic #chicago pd fic #chicago pd tv #jay halstead #reader #original character #fanfiction #one shot #original work #wyftiiffy

82 notes · View notes

oboevallis · 3 years

Text

who is he pt 4

BESTIES!!!!! it’s been tooooooo long ive just had no motivation 🤪 but today we had parade rehearsal and they didn't really need me so i had time to write this, sorry its been so long!!! i hope everyones doing well and staying safe

part 1 part 2 part 3

“Is link your boyfriend?” Scout asked as his mother cut his waffles.

“No, he isn’t. We’re just friends.”

“Why do we spend so much time with him?” In the following weeks of the zoo excursion, the trio had done countless things with one another.

“Just cause.” Amelia quickly said, starting to get nervous, hoping her son wouldn't ask to elaborate.

“Okay.” Scout shrugged, dropping the subject. Eliciting a sigh of relief from his mother. “Is he coming to my softball game tonight?”

“Yeah, I think he is.”

“Oh.”

“Do you not want him to?”

“Well, he works for baseball players, and they’re all really good; what if he thinks I’m a bad player?”

“Oh babe, he won’t think that at all. I’m sure he’ll be very impressed.” It took a lot of begging for Amelia to allow Scout to play softball, but the more she watched her son played, the prouder she was of him. He was a good player for a kid his age.

_______________________________________

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Link asked as he opened his apartment door.

“I came to visit you since you never come to see us.” His mother brought him into a hug as she walked further in.

“A little notice would’ve been nice.” The man sighed, picking up the mini cooler that was on the counter and his sunglasses.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Maureen realized her son was getting prepared to leave. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

“There’s no baseball game today, though.” Maureen had checked before she came to assure her son would have time to spend with her.

“Yeah, I’m just going out; I’ll be back in maybe two hours? Just entertain yourself, and the guest room should be clean if you want to stay in there.” Link pointed across the hall.

“Okay, thanks.” Maureen sadly smiled, slightly offended at her sons' offish behavior.

________________________________________

“You look like your gonna throw up.” Link chuckled as he sat down next to Amelia handing her a water from the cooler.

“I’m just terrified he’s gonna hit his head in just the wrong space and immediately die.” Amelia quickly ranted as she watched her son step up to the base; this was her usual freak-out routine when her son would be playing.

“He’s gonna be just fine, Mia.” Amelia quickly diverted her attention to the man; he hadn’t used the nickname in 5 years. “Sorry I-“

“Shh.” Amelia shushed him as their son hit the ball and start bolting for the next base, standing up when he fell face-first as he tried to reach the base. “Crap.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He grabbed her arm, seating her, when he got up and kept running. “He’s okay.”

“Okay.” Amelia shifted awkwardly, putting her hand on her chest to try and control her breathing. “I hate this.”

“Look at how happy he is, though.” Link loved his son, even if the boy didn’t know he was his father. But that fact broke his heart; to the little boy, he was just a friend.

“He’s getting suspicious.”

“Hmm?” Link hummed, shoving some peanuts in his mouth.

“He asked if we were dating; I said no, obviously.” For some reason, this stung the man. “But he’s smart; he’s gonna realize eventually, so maybe we should talk about telling him.”

“And you're okay with this?” Link asked hopefully.

“He’s gonna find out eventually.” Amelia sighed, picking at her nail. “I mean, I don’t really have a choice; I’ve already messed up too much. Depriving both of you of a relationship from each other.”

“I don’t blame you, not anymore.” Link whispered. “You were protecting him, and yourself. I mean, I’m upset I missed so much, but I get it.” Amelia looked at the man and genuinely smiled.

“Thank you.” The woman whispered with tears in her eyes.

_______________________________________

“Mom, did you see that?” Scout cheered as he ran into his mother’s arms. “I made a home run!”

“I know, I’m so so so proud of you.” Amelia laughed as she spun the boy around.

“You did really great, bud.” Link smiled, patting the boy's back.

“Thanks, Link.” Scout smiled brightly.

“I’ll have to take you to a Mariners game sometime.” Link smiled, thinking about bringing his son to a game and introducing him to the players. “If it’s okay with your mom, of course.”

“We can work something out.” Amelia reluctantly smiled.

“Can we get donuts?” Scout asked, jumping on the balls of his feet.

“Sure.” Amelia laughed at her sons' excitement over donuts, reminding her of how her ex-boyfriend used to act.

“Can Link come?” Scout asked.

“If he wants to.” Amelia smiled at the man, who eagerly nodded.

“I’d love to; donuts are my absolute favorite.” Link smiled, knowing that his son loved his favorite snack as much as he did. “You know they have a Gotham Donuts in Seattle now?”

“I didn’t,” Amelia said, taken aback, thinking back to the New York fiasco, and how she was falling in love with the man.

“Let’s go!!!!” Scout said, starting to get impatient, pulling his mother’s arm.

“Alright, alright.”

________________________________________

“They don’t taste exactly like the ones in New York, but they’re still my favorite.” Link said after he shoved a whole donut in his mouth.

“Everything pastry wise is better in New York. Especially, bagels,” Amelia remarked.

“Yeah, my mom won’t let us ever get bagels. Only when we’re in New York.” Scout laughed, making Link smile. The man recalled one morning when he brought home breakfast bagels for the two, and she refused to eat them.

“She’s very dramatic, huh?” Link smirked, making eye contact with the woman.

“Hey! Am not!” Amelia playfully defended.

“You are, though, mommy.” Scout agreed with the man.

“Alright, I guess just a little bit.” Amelia caved, running the boy's hair through his fingers, noticing the boy's eyes start to droop the longer they sat. “You getting tired, bud?”

“Mmmhmm.” The boy nodded, snuggling into his mother’s side.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” Amelia helped scout out of the booth. “Thanks so much, Link.”

“Yeah, of course.” He’d been trying to keep his tears at bay as he watched the interaction between the two. “Great job today!”

“Thanks.” Scout waved as the two walked off.

________________________________________

When Link arrived back at his apartment, he found dinner in the microwave, and his mother fast asleep in the spare bedroom. The bedroom that should be Scout’s. He remembered the night the couple crashed at his apartment, and he took her into the room, and they mapped out how the nursery would be set up. The orthopedic surgeon shook the thought of his head and went into his room, quickly finding his bed and falling asleep.

“Link.” His mother’s soft voice jutting him out of sleep.

“What?” Link asked, somewhat shocked to of been woken up, almost forgetting his mother was even there.

“You left your phone in the kitchen, and someone called Meredith keeps calling.” Maureen raised her eyebrow, trying to determine if this was a possible love interest.

Link took the ringing phone from his mother while trying to contain his eye roll. “What’s up?”

“Don’t freak out.” Meredith’s shaky voice rang in his ears.

“What? What happened?” Link sat up abruptly in his bed, his mother perking up at her sons' nervousness.

“There was a car crash.” Before she could continue, he jumped up from his bed and started to get dressed, trying to calm his shakiness. “Scout is fine. Maggie is with him, and he just has a tiny laceration on his forehead, which is being patched up as we speak?”

“And Amelia?” The man's heart dropped at the hesitation, suddenly regretting everything that had not happened between the two, especially not fighting to be in her and her sons' life.

“She was unconscious when they brought her in; Koracick is bringing her up to CT. He’s the best.” Link could sense the woman’s pain with saying that; he knew she’d prefer her late husband. The one who Amelia would talk so fondly of, and aspire to be.

“And the other person?” The man asked, heading to the door, his mom following him and confiscated his keys. He was about to yell at her until he realized how shaky his hands were; it was probably too dangerous to drive himself.

“Tox screen came back; he was definitely intoxicated. He should be fine, though.” Before he knew what he was doing, he abruptly hung up, regretting that he even asked. Once the pair got to the parking lot, everything seemed to be in slow motion. He remembered his mom asking for directions, and standing outside of the hospital, unable to find the strength to walk in.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #scout lincoln #Maureen Lincoln #maggie pierce #meredith grey #tw car crash

22 notes · View notes

writer-ish · 3 years

Note

41. Overhearing they have feelings for you

Dazzle me with your amazing words 💕

cliche tropes + prompts list #41. Overhearing they have feelings for you

Brooke scanned the patient chart one last time, feeling uncharacteristically nervous as she approached the doors to the diagnostics team’s office.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say before entering that room - making sure she didn’t fumble over her words or say the wrong thing - but here she was, feeling like a first-year intern again who was just trying not to screw up.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped just before she reached the glass windows that separated the office from the rest of the hospital. She released the breath slowly, telling herself all the things she already knew: You’re being ridiculous. You’ve earned your place there. You know what you’re doing.

It was just difficult to coincide these thoughts with the feelings swirling inside her. Somehow, it had been so much easier with June and Baz as her colleagues. Everyone had felt like they were on an even playing field, even if experience levels had differed slightly, and after the initial growing pains of joining the team for the first time, she had gotten into her groove fairly quickly.

Now, with the tumult of a new hospital setting, the intrusion of Leland at the helm, this whole concept of “horizontal leadership” or whatever the hell he had implemented, and—

Brooke cringed, ashamed at the direction of her thoughts but unable to help herself—

—all of it was made that much more difficult by the addition of Dr. Harper Emery, former Chief, neurosurgeon extraordinaire, and - she allowed herself a little sigh - Dr. Ethan Ramsey’s former romantic partner, to the Diagnostics Team.

She felt pathetic and she felt small. If she was any sort of doctor or, really, any person who wanted to better themselves in their chosen field, she would be using this change to benefit her own position - to learn and to grow and to become the best doctor she can possibly be.

Instead, she was acting like she used to act in middle school, when the boy she liked had a crush on someone else.

Snap out of it, she commanded herself, hoping the firm mental voice in her head did its job. You’re better than this. You deserve better than this. And so does Ethan.

She knew it was a disservice to both of them, this assumption that he was somehow pleased beyond a professional capacity that Harper had joined the team.

But sometimes, insecurity didn’t follow the rules or listen to reason. She would just have to get over it, one way or another, and pray it didn’t affect her - professionally or personally - in any meaningful way.

Heaving another sigh, she went to take a step towards the door, when she heard voices muffled through the glass.

“Oh, I was going to ask—” It was Harper, Brooke identified quickly. Her voice had a distinctly melodic tone, which belied the tough, no-nonsense exterior she always upheld.

“Hmm?” Ethan. Brooke would have recognized that distracted grunt anywhere. Her heart swooped a little at the sound of him, like it always did.

“Are you free tonight to go over the results from Mrs. Herringbow’s case? I was thinking maybe we could stay late, order something in? We could also just go to my place, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you remember where it is.”

There was nothing particularly lascivious about Harper’s comment, but Brooke felt her heart start beating irregularly nonetheless and she leaned back against the wall for support, mindful to stay out of view of the window. She held her breath as she waited for Ethan’s response.

“Oh.”

Oh? Oh? That’s it? she thought, her mind tumbling like a tennis ball in the dryer. Oh what, Ethan?

She heard him clear his throat.

“I’m not sure that’s—I mean, that is, I’m happy to go over the results with you any time, it’s just that—tonight? I actually, uh, have plans.”

She barely even noticed the uncharacteristic fumbling over his words, instead continuing to hold her breath to see if he’d elaborate. Because, the fact of the matter was, he didn’t have plans. Not with her, anyway. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was playing at, exactly.

“Oh.” This time it was Harper’s voice, slightly nonplussed. “Okay, that’s not a problem, maybe—”

“With Brooke,” Ethan interrupted. “Er, Dr. Spiers, that is. I have plans with Dr. Spiers.”

“Ohhh.” Harper’s response was more drawn-out, more knowing, than it had been previously. “I see. So, that’s still—?”

“Yes,” Ethan said firmly. “We’re together.”

“Well, Ethan.” Harper’s voice held a tinge of humour. “I mean… I’m not trying to steal you away from her or anything like that. It would be a strictly professional meeting.”

Brooke didn’t know how, but she could literally hear him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“No, I—I know,” Ethan admitted. “It’s just—my priority is her, right now. Her feelings. I’m just not sure how she would—”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Harper responded, a bit stridently. She seemed annoyed, maybe by the implications of Ethan’s refusal. Maybe by what she assumed was a hypothetical overreaction on the part of absent Brooke.

“I don’t know,” Ethan replied honestly. “I feel—new at all of this, somehow. Like I’m navigating foreign waters. All I know is that…” He hesitated and Brooke held her breath. “That I don’t want to screw this up.”

There was a loaded silence. Then, Harper spoke:

“Well, good. You not screwing things up would be a new one.”

A pause, then they both burst into laughter.

“Remember the time you told that vineyard owner that you wouldn’t even use his merlot for cooking—?”

“You’re just mad because you couldn’t get that free sample anymore—”

Their laughter carried out of the doorway and Brooke stepped away from the wall, and began heading in the opposite direction, feeling lighter than she had in days. She bit her lip to try and contain her smile, heart fluttering in competition with the butterflies in her stomach.

Her diagnosis could wait. For now, she’d let two old friends do some catching up.

#open heart prompts #open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart ficlet #in this house we respect harper emery #and headcanon that mc is a tiny bit insecure #and ethan is just clueless

69 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 3 years

Text

So. I binged @lyranova’s series COTF last night, and I got inspired. And I just had to make a one chapter spin off from it with Fue’s and Lara’s future son.

Hope you enjoy ^_^

It felt as if air had been knocked out of him, making him able to draw only shallow breaths as he made his way forward. His muscles ached with a tingling sensation, but it’d pass. He had great faith in the sensation passing. All he’d need to do, is keep calm, and keep moving forward within the limits of his own capabilities. If he could only take shallow breaths for now, then that’s what he’d do. It was called getting accustomed to the situation and was nothing to get worried over. Unexpected things were going to happen, but what would matter was his ability to work with it.

The terrain looks pretty similar than back home. And there’s a prominent concentration of mana that way, so it’s probable that the headquarters is there. Yeah. For now, I can just work under the assumption that things are similar to what they’d be in my own time. And if it turns out that I’m wrong, I’ll make corrective manoeuvres. Yes. I need to start from somewhere. And this is as good of a tactics to start with as any else.

Red flags by the side of stone gates, depicting a golden lion came in sight. And behind the gates, multiple sources of mana could be detected moving around.

Alright. It looks very similar, so this can’t be that far from my time. But now to… how to approach this? I could very easily sneak in and just see them, if they’re both here that is, but that’d be a poor choice. But then again, just knocking on their door and asking to see the captain is enough to raise an eyebrow. And most of the time it wouldn’t lead anywhere. But… between the two choices, that is the more rational one to take, because the other one can potentially cause havoc.

He sighed to himself, gathering himself for a moment. Alright. I can do this. I just need to argue my case well.

---

“Welcome back Sir,” Randal greeted as Fuegoleon returned to the base, passing him in the corridor.

“Thank you,” he replied with a courteous tone. “Did anything note worthy take place while I was gone?”

“Well you could say that Sir…”

“Hm?”

“I’m not quite sure how to explain it properly Sir. But a certain… young gentleman is here to see you.”

Fuegoleon stayed silent, waiting for Randal to elaborate.

“He’s wearing the squad uniform, and his mana levels are more than enough to qualify him for the squad, but I can’t remember him ever joining. And he does have a cloak pin that… it resembles your family insignia,” Randal paused for a moment while thinking back to the young man’s ensemble. “He was very insistent on seeing you, but kept it perfectly civil and he seemed reasonable enough. Though he refused to tell me what he needs to talk to you about.”

A thought passed through Fuegoleon, even if he still had a reason to be sceptical. He couldn’t let himself get caught into the emotion and the countless of possibilities and had to make sure who the man indeed was.

“Where is he?” He asked frankly, but a hint of curiosity lacing his tone.

“In your office Sir,” Randal replied, to which Fuegoleon nodded.

“Thank you,” he still said before starting to make his way towards his office.

“Oh and Sir?” Randal continued as an afterthought, making Fuegoleon turn his head back to Randal while halting his movement for a moment. “He-, he also inquired about Solara. I suppose. It was very subtle.”

Fuegoleon paused for a moment, thinking about what course of action to take with a faint thoughtful hum. “Where is she at the moment, do you know?”

“I’m assuming that she’s in her office Sir,” Randal replied while his brows furrowed for a brief, passing moment.

“Could you ask her to come by my office?” Fuegoleon asked, receiving a nod from Randal.

“Of course, Sir.”

He still nodded before continuing his way to his office, the thoughts beginning to swirl in his mind more violently than before. And none of the possibilities that came to mind were exactly calming him, for all had a component that made him feel uneasy, even if for very different reasons.

He opened his office door and was greeted a sight of a young man, possibly in his early twenties or slightly younger quietly sitting in a chair before his desk. His eyes were golden, bright as the morning sun, and he had ginger hair, slightly lighter than Fuegoleon’s own.

“Good day,” he greeted while standing up and offering his hand to shake while wearing a friendly smile. A smile that was reflected in his eyes.

“Good day,” Fuegoleon replied while returning the handshake, letting his eyes wander free over the crimson cloak the man was wearing. It indeed resembled the squad uniform to a great extent, but with minor alterations, and a cloak pin on his right shoulder.

His gaze met with the pair of golden eyes once more, and he gestured back towards the seat. “Please.”

The man nodded and sat back down as Fuegoleon circled around his desk and took a seat in his own chair.

“I’ve understood that there’s something urgent you need to discuss with me?” He inquired factually, choosing to get straight to the point.

“Yes, that is correct,” the man replied before his gaze shifted into the distance with a thoughtful frown. “But I must admit that I’m not quite sure how to begin,” he admitted with an apologetically amused chuckle.

“Then perhaps it’s better that we get straight to the topic,” Fuegoleon suggested with a stern expression while preparing himself for whatever the man was about to tell him.

“I suppose that’s indeed the best course of action,” he agreed with a veil of hesitation over his eyes. “You see, my name is Leonidas and I’m-“

There was a knock at the door, interrupting Leonidas’ explanation, the sound making both of them turn their heads towards the sound and see Solara emerging into the room.

“You needed to see me?” She inquired with a faint smile, her eyes passing briefly over the young man whose eyes widened in recognition. “Or are you in the middle of something?” She continued while gazing to Fuego.

“It’s alright, you can stay,” Fuego replied with a faint, and yet factual tone as Solara made her way closer to his desk after closing the door.

She placed a few documents onto his desk as he spoke: “Please, continue.”

“Ah, yes,” Leonidas uttered as a forced, tense grin appeared on his lips. “As I said, my name is Leonidas and, um,” he paused to clear his throat as his gaze averted to the side for a moment. “And I’m your son.”

Fuegoleon kept his stern gaze directed at Leonidas while Solara’s brows rose in surprise, her head turning towards Leonidas. The young man was seated back in the chair, his arm was propped against the arm rest, his hand loosely held against his face, and his index finger was placed horizontally over his lips.

“That is a bold argument to make,” Fuegoleon commented.

“And I’m not claiming that it wouldn’t be,” Leonidas agreed. “But the truth is that I was sent back in time, by…” he chuckled to himself, “by the two of you. And you didn’t really give me a reason why I needed to walk through the Time Gates-“

“Time Gates?” Solara interrupted.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Look, I know, I know,” he emphasized while leaning a bit forward in his chair, “that it sounds absurd, because even time mages can’t just walk across them as they please, but-“

“But since there are portals that require a specific flux in the space time continuum, it’s not impossible, just highly unlikely. And even then, it’s not ‘walking freely’ but works under predetermined laws and regulations,” she thought out loud.

“Exactly,” Leonidas agreed while loosely pointing at her with his index finger, almost as if to say ‘you go it’. “So,” he began with a hopeful undertone lacing his voice. “You believe that I’m your son,” he smiled to them while lowering his chin, his shoulder rising slightly closer to his ears, as if he was curling around himself.

“Unfortunately, that only supports the idea of you being from the future,” Fuegoleon replied, “while the question of lineage is still very much an open discussion. Because, let’s say that you indeed are from the future, then you could be in possession of knowledge of the past that’s freely given. As royalty, and nobility,” he added while glancing to Solara, “our lives are very much under scrutiny, and thus telling simple details about us doesn’t yet prove anything.” His tone was distant and factual, a hint of disbelief lacing it, as if he wasn’t fully with the conversation and rather working on autopilot.

“That’s…”

“Furthermore, there are types of magic that can be used to inside the memories of others, thus there’s a possibility that you’ve come into possession of our future memories and thus can tell us about us,” he reasoned further while staring blankly ahead of him.

“Fair enough, but-“ Leonidas tried, but his mind was blank. Dad has a point. And he has to consider all that. He does. So how-, how can I prove who I am without really giving away much about the future? Okay. Okay. Hmm… That magic can ‘show’ memories, but feelings, those they can’t convey, right? So, what have they told about their emotions from this point of time? Things that wouldn’t be obvious. Okay. Think.

Solara placed her hand onto Fuegoleon’s shoulder, waking him from his trance and making him glance at her. But instead of glancing at him, she tilted her head and watching the young man, who was furiously trying to think of what to say.

“[It’s hard to counter those arguments,]” she commented with a soft tone, as if the words would’ve taken off of her lips with butterfly wings.

“[It is,]” Leonidas agreed with a tight smile, while his eyes still retained that look of melancholy.

Alright. So, you’re Thean. That’s a start. “[Tell me,]” she continued while circling around the desk, her fingers sliding off of Fuegoleon’s shoulder as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “[Tell me about The 23rd of Quintilis.]” She continued while leaning against the desk.

Leonidas frowned at her. “[Okay, so officially-]”

“[No. Not ‘officially’. Tell me what really happened.]”

“Oh…” he mumbled before his face distorted. “[O-kay…]” he breathed in while shifting in his seat. “[So… under the castle there’s a-]” he cleared his throat, “[there’s a portal that… really shouldn’t be there, one that really shouldn’t ever have been made really, and-]” he bit down his molars after swallowing.

“[Okay, fair enough. That’s enough to tell me that you’re Thean, and, nobility,]” she interrupted. “[What’s left is for you to convince me that you’re our son.]”

But that’s the hard part… He took a deep breath while regaining his pose, and trying to concentrate on what he could say. “But the thing is,” he began, glancing at both of them. “I can’t really tell you a lot. Because that could potentially change the course of the future.”

“Mhm,” Solara hummed.

“Oh boy, when you said that this’d be a good practice run for The Divine Evaluation Ceremony, you weren’t lying,” he joked, making Fuegoleon quirk an eyebrow, while Solara scoffed to herself with a faint passing amusement. “Alright, bad timing,” Leonidas continued with a wave of his hand while looking at his father.

A brief silence settled into the air, quiet anticipation building up around them.

Solara sighed and made his way closer to Leonidas as her arms fell to her sides.

“Convince me,” she implored, now standing next to his seat.

Leonidas’ eyes averted to the side for a moment. “Mom… I-, I really can’t. Most of the arguments I could make, could easily be countered with ‘but there could be magic that’, and the rest… I really can’t tell you,” he admitted. “If Alyssa was here, I could prove it easily, but…”

“Mhm,” she hummed while letting her gaze cascade over the form of the young man in front of her. She sighed, and opened her arms. “Come here,” she spoke with a hushed tone, making Leonidas’ eyes turn to her in disbelief.

He got up from his chair with slow, hesitant movements, looking at her, almost as if to still ask if he could. The pair of golden eyes explored her expression with a sorrowful undertone.

He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight while pressing his forehead against her shoulder. And it was as if, being able to hide away from the world, into his mother’s arms, allowed him to spill his emotions out. “But… this isn’t like [The Divine Evaluation…] this… I don’t know how to get back from this…” he admitted.

Fuegoleon watched the interaction, and there was something so natural about it. There was something so genuine about it that it made his heart clench. Either… either he’s an incredibly good liar… or then he’s telling the truth… He got up from his chair and made his way to the two.

“I really need you to believe me mom,” he whispered, as if speaking out a secret.

“I hear you,” she replied with a whisper of her own. “And I’m willing to believe you. But. If it turns out that you lied to me, then-“

“I’ll be in a world of trouble?” Leonidas grinned through the barely broken voice of his.

“Son or not,” Solara agreed with a faint chuckle.

Leonidas pulled back from the hug, and he looked at Fuegoleon, standing next to them.

They shared a gaze for a moment, until Leonidas spoke up. “Look, I can’t really reason to you any better why you should believe me. And… you absolutely need to consider all of the possibilities, making all of the arguments perfectly valid. So…”

“You can only hope that I believe you?” Fue asked with a low, quiet tone, but which, this time, was laced with a soft undertone.

Leonidas nodded as a reply, knowing just how flimsy the argument was. In fact, it wasn’t even an argument, it was a hope. It was a hope that the people, who would eventually become his parents, but yet weren’t, would believe him.

Fuegoleon sighed to himself. For a good while during the conversation, he had felt as if he wasn’t even present in the room, but rather just going through the motions while trying to reason it all to himself. But now, as he watched into the golden eyes, bright and radiant as a faint flicker in someone else’s, he felt the tension of his muscles melting away.

“Alright… I believe you,” he spoke with a faint smile while placing his hand onto Leon’s shoulder. “But-“

“Lying won’t be tolerated?”

Fue nodded to him. “Precisely,” he replied. “It seems you have a habit of interrupting people,” he commented with a faint smile.

“I like to think to think it more like continuing other’s sentences,” Leon commented as his gaze fell to the side. “And I don’t do it with most people…”

“Hmm…” Fue hummed with a smirk. “I think I understand. It sounds a bit like a habit of someone else,” he spoke with a tender tone while giving Solara a glance.

“Just try and tell me that you don’t like it when I finish your sentences,” she rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Never did dear…”

Leonidas smiled as he watched the exchange. They really haven’t changed from since then. Or now. Since… From. The beginning.

#black clover oc #black clover fanfiction #inspired by mutual's series

11 notes · View notes

anywhozits · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Announcement

Rating: T Words: 5172

Verse: Canonverse Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are excited to finally share the news of their heir-on-the-way with the Kingdom of Arendelle.

Notes: I wrote this last year and forgot to post it, but this is somewhat related to the Christmas fic I’m writing for this year so wanted to get this out before that one! (at least it’s in the same verse and has similar themes, hah) Anyway hope you enjoy and happy holidays!! Thanks for reading :)

READ ON AO3 HERE

The day was Christmas Eve, 1843. A couple years ago, the whole kingdom of Arendelle began celebrating together at the castle’s now officially annual Christmas ball. Something that Anna had begged Elsa to start since the great freeze ended and the doors to the castle became permanently open. It had taken awhile, but finally Elsa caved to her sister’s wishes, likely only partially due to years of internalized guilt for pushing her away, and the ball quickly became one of Anna’s most anticipated nights of the year. Now with Anna as Queen, the tradition continued.

The entire ballroom was filled with glittering decorations, tinsel adorning the sturdy wood beams. Buffet tables sat lining almost the entire left side of the room, filled bountifully with food to feed the whole town and then some. Lefse, lutefisk (the bane of child and teen Anna’s existence), farikal, pickled herring, kjottkaker, salmon, whale steak, sheep, all the traditional favorites. And that, of course, didn’t even including the two tables of desserts and pastries or the sprawling drink selection. A massive 12-foot Christmas tree stood proudly in the right corner of the space, decorated with great care by Anna and Kristoff themselves. Year after year, Anna always insisted she didn’t need any help from the castle attendants, only a few ladders and a few hours of time alone. She always pulled through. The tree—her pride and joy. This Christmas, Anna had also taken the time to pick out hundreds of presents for the Arendellian children and children-at-heart. Kristoff even did some woodworking for the occasion. Highlights included hand carved rocking horses, rolling reindeer on a string, and building blocks. They couldn’t wait for those presents to be torn open by frantic hands, truly cherishing the visual of children playing for hours on the sweeping ballroom floor, both King and Queen watching misty eyed as they imagined their own child playing along next year. A new tradition.

They had hired both a 5-piece band and a choir to make sure that the ball was not lacking in festive music and thus not lacking in dancing. The choir had kicked off the party singing Christmas songs in perfect harmony, the music floating through the castle, making the previously cold stone walls feel more comforting and protective. Guests had started arriving, smiles plastered on each of their faces as they ran through the open castle gates, eyes wide in childlike awe when they entered the ballroom to see the most elaborate Christmas ball yet.

But two people were thus far missing from the party.

Kristoff knocked softly on his and Anna’s chamber door before letting himself in. He saw Anna, dressed to the nines in a green velvet gown topped with white ruffles that hugged her shoulders. Her upper chest was left bare save for a three-layered pearl necklace, an early Christmas gift from Mattias. The sleeves gaped open, lined by white fur that Kristoff knew felt as soft as it looked. Her hair laid atop her head in an intricately braided bun, her gold and emerald crown placed perfectly in the middle, always bringing out the brilliant green that usually hid within her typically cerulean eyes. Kristoff could only think one word. Radiant. Anna was radiant. Sincerely, Anna sparkled. She always sparkled. But something about walking in on her like this, dressed for the ball, so majestic in every single way… made Kristoff feel as if he might cry for the love that grew and blossomed within his heart. A love so permanent… a love so unyielding that he felt it with both a fiery passion and a patient comfort. He took in a breath. Regarding her magnificence for a second time. Her gold shoes sparkled in the candlelight, heels subtle enough to allow her to dance for hours but tall enough to allow her to kiss him without getting on her tip toes. His eyes floated up to her dress yet again. Even though the gown cinched at her waist, Kristoff swore he could make out a little bit of the swell that was their growing child. He took in another breath. She looked ravishing. How could he be so lucky to call her his wife?

But Anna paid no mind to Kristoff, not then. She was looking in the mirror. Frowning. Frustrated.

But still so beautiful.

“Anna, honey, are you ready to go downstairs? The doors are open, and people are flooding in… I think even Elsa and Honeymaren are already here.” Elsa was finishing up the ice sculptures. Her only task this year, something that made her beyond thankful.

“I’m almost ready! I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t feel right. But I can’t put my finger on why.” Anna twirled around in front of the mirror. “The only thing keeping me chugging along is the promise of lots of food. I’m starving.”

“Yes—that was the journal entry for this week. Ravenously hungry. Insatiable I think was the word I used.” For Anna, eighteen-ish weeks pregnant meant the constant desire to stuff her face with literally everything she laid her eyes on. It was like she had this itch that could never be scratched. A deep hole in her stomach that could not ever be fully filled. But the most unfortunate part was that she somehow had recently begun to crave lutefisk. Lutefisk. The food she would have to plug her nose to eat as a kid. Clearly pregnancy made her leave logic at the door. Kristoff sauntered up to her and brought her in close, wrapping his strong arms around her frame, resting them gently on her mid-section, hooking his chin over her right shoulder and kissing her softly on first her shoulder and then her neck and then her cheek before settling back into the crook of her neck. He smiled. This was pure bliss.

Anna entangled her fingers with his own, both resting on her belly. She sighed. “I swear I could eat literally all of Sven right now and only feel a little bit guilty.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kristoff laughed into her shoulder.

“I’m starving!” Anna pouted, but then Kristoff kissed her neck again softly and she shivered. Too distracting.

“Well, I know for a fact there’s a lot of food in the ballroom if you want to get a move on…”

“I want to, I really do… but. Still. I’m … you know what? I think I know what it is,” Anna said, pulling away from Kristoff suddenly. “You know how a few weeks ago I had to switch to the maternity corset? Because I really uh—popped out that one morning and couldn’t fit into my old one anymore even with the laces practically undone?” One midwife had even said that Anna looked much bigger than what women usually did at this point in pregnancy. Something that she said could mean there was more than one baby on the way…Anna and Kristoff were far too thrilled with that possibility but had mutually decided they didn’t want to get their hopes up if it didn’t come to fruition. Their baby coming into the world already with a friend… already decidedly not alone. It felt almost serendipitous to Anna, but she still refused to think of it more than fleetingly. So for now—one baby. Singular baby.

“I remember,” he said.

“Well, I hate this thing. It’s so … constricting and it hurts and I can hardly breathe let alone gorge myself with disgusting and foul and gross but somehow still super satisfying lutefisk. Like do you really think this is good for the baby?”

Kristoff shook his head. “Probably not—”

But Anna was on a roll. She bulldozed through the answer he gave to her likely rhetorical question. “I know it’s not breathing or anything right? But … it kind of feels like I’m squishing the baby or something and knowing it’s yours and everything it’ll probably be massive so needs lots of room to… get that way. Oh wait no I can’t think about that. Oh God. Massive. Get that image out of my head please. Too big to come out of me and the pain and owwwww.”

Kristoff stepped closer to Anna and hugged her close, stroking comforting circles on her back. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. She whimpered. “For the record, I don’t think I was too big as a baby. Although, you know… I don’t remember.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Very helpful.”

“I do have some chocolate to tide you over, though. That’s helpful, right?”

Her eyes lit up instantly, nodding her head in ferocious fervor. “Yes, yes, yes. Super, super helpful. Very helpful. The most helpful of all helpful!” Kristoff reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out maybe six truffles. Anna ate them in a flash. “God, these are so good.” Then she frowned again. “But I can already feel my corset getting tighter! And, you know what? What’s it all for, hmm? So I can better hide I’m pregnant? Yeah that’s right I said the word. So, what? You know, it’s really grating to me that something that really deserves to celebrated is instead something that needs to be … hidden away. Like the expectation for a queen is to be prim and proper and ladylike and pure or—whatever…while also producing heirs upon heirs. So, what happens when the very thought of being ‘with child’ comes with this implication that you’re not pure? Even though obviously I mean it’s way more concerning if you’re married and still pure, right? And I know I’m saying this about royalty and everything but that’s just my situation. Generally it’s definitely not just for queens. This is any woman. The expectation of any woman. Nobody cares if men are pure. So they’re just producing heirs or kids or namesakes? … left and right and it’s all fine and dandy. It’s just ... really frustrating. And this stupid corset is like the physical proof of this horrible thing and it’s really making me…so—angry.” Anna let out a long breath. It felt good to get all that out. It truly had been building upon itself in this storm of emotions for the last couple weeks. Constantly growing until this moment.

“You know you’re the Queen, right?”

“Uh—yeah. Pretty sure I just talked a lot about that in my little speech.”

“Yes, right. Yes. But I mean… you’re the Queen.”

“Yes, I know. What’s your point?”

“Well, you’ve got the power, baby,” Kristoff said. “Show them how it’s done. You can … make a decree or—or something. Or you can just lead by example. I’ll support you, Anna. You know I’ll support you. And I agree with you, too. The whole thing’s pretty ridiculous. And definitely not healthy for our massive baby.”

Anna crossed her arms over her chest. “Not funny.”

“Take it off, baby. Off with the maternity corset.”

“I want to … but then people will be able to tell, right?”

“You really think they don’t know? Let me ask you this. Truly—how many people do you think are actually in the dark?”

“Uh—I don’t know. Maybe … four?”

“Exactly! Don’t feel like you need to still hide it. The whole castle has known for a long time. You were wearing the maternity corsets! Someone had to make that for you and you know your maids knew right away. Word is out, Anna. We just can’t be open open about it yet. Soon … but you don’t need to hide it. You shouldn’t hide it.”

She contemplated his words for a minute or so before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Thanks, husband. You’re the best listener.” He grabbed her hand and gave her a quick twirl, already preparing for the dancing he knew would take up most of his night.

“Always, my sweet love.”

“Now help me get this thing off. Right now. Please.” Anna turned so her back was to him. His large hands wrapped around the velvet buttons of her dress, undoing them at an unparalleled pace. Soon, the dress dropped to the floor and Anna stepped out of it, only standing in her off-white corset and bloomers. The maternity corset had a slightly different shape, dipping lower to cover her entire stomach, and had two extra sets of laces, one on each side that supposedly allowed for more breathing room and expansion along with a growing belly, but Anna disagreed. It felt just as constricting as her usual corset. She jumped in front of Kristoff again. “Off, off, off!”

He obeyed again, large hands undoing the laces but moving closer as he did this, planting periodic kisses on her shoulders. His mind instantly shot back to the first time he unlaced her corset. Years ago.

The beginning of their … exploration was too hurried. They so rarely got time alone and took it whenever they could … wherever they could … as fast as they could. There was never time to take off any clothes. Dress scrunched up her waist, drawers and breeches pushed down to their ankles was the name of their game. But eventually they got bolder. They snuck around in the middle of the night… and in those stolen moments in the moonlight, they had more time. Kristoff remembered ripping off her dress, throwing it into the corner of her room. Turning his attention to her undergarments, working his hands around the laces, trying to figure out how to make this as swift as possible. He smirked. “Is this appropriate?”

“Of course not,” Anna giggled. Kristoff planted kisses on her bare shoulders and then her collarbones. “But when have I ever been concerned with what’s appropriate?”

Kristoff smiled again at the memory. When he finally shot back to reality, he saw that he was almost done with the laces. He pulled the last few and threw the corset far away from them. It landed with an air of dramatics on her dressing partition.

Anna sighed in relief. “God, you’re so much faster at this than my maids.”

“Years of practice paired with years of … urgency.” Kristoff said, smirking.

It had taken him much longer than he felt comfortable admitting to take that corset off that first night, but since then he’d figured out a foolproof strategy.

She turned around to give him a deep kiss. “I’m free. Thank you.”

Kristoff inhaled sharply. She was even more magnificent like this, ballgown tossed to the side. He brought a hand up to cup her chin and his other drifted down to her stomach. He gave it a rub and she kissed him in response, giggling slightly. “You’re radiant, baby. So beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“You take my breath away,” Kristoff said, meaning it truly and genuinely from the bottom of his heart. Anna beamed at him, feeling both unparalleled awe and unparalleled respect boiling deep within her soul. She regarded him now. The way the left side of his smile cocked up more than his right, sending him into an eternal mischievous smirk. The way his brown eyes always somehow teemed with an unusual mixture of curiosity and warmth. He was her rock. Her ocean. Her world. And she knew that the same was true for him. She was his rock. His ocean. His world.

Anna tried to put all of those feelings into words. “You—I need you to know that you’re—uh—perfect, Kristoff. Really perfect.” She used this word a lot. He doesn’t like it, he said. It’s not true, he said. He has his flaws, he said. But to Anna, even his flaws were perfect. So, he was perfect.

Kristoff smiled again. Mischievous still. But happy. Pleased. Tonight, he wouldn’t argue with her. He placed his hand on Anna’s swollen belly, rubbing gently. “I like this. Baby is free to be massive now.”

“Oh, shut up and help me put my dress back on,” Anna said through a laugh. “Might be a tough task since my waistline has expanded probably five sizes.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” Kristoff said, pulling desperately hard on either side of her dress before he could button them together. Eventually, he managed. Sure, the button stretched a bit and it threatened to pop off, but he thought maybe it would hold. At least for that evening.

“How do I look?” She gave him a twirl, settling in closer to him and cupping her belly slightly. She loved showing it off. The exciting proof of their future. Of what would come in May. “Ugh. I don’t wanna keep this a secret anymore. This is awful. How I lasted this long—it’s torture! Kristoff! Encourage our little one to make its presence known. Please, please, please.”

He smiled at his wife, dropping to his knees. Rubbing circles on her belly and planting gentle kisses all over before pulling away slightly, both hands still resting on the swell. Kristoff leaned in closer again and whispered, “Hey, little one…your mama and papa love you so much and want to tell the whole world how much we love you so we can celebrate you and love you publicly and—can you stretch out for us or move your little arms and legs or something? Mama and Papa are here for you, watching you grow… loving you…” He kissed her belly again. “We love you, little one.”

“Aww, Kris. You’re so cute.”

He stood up slowly. Waiting to see if it worked. Not that it had in the past… but still hopeful. Nothing. “You ready to go?”

“I’m ready to eat if that’s what you mean.”

They walked hand in hand through the castle hallways, still bursting with the beautiful harmonies of the choir, and finally through the doors of the ballroom. Each and every Arendellian guest turned to watch the Queen and King, or Prince—whatever—consort’s grand entrance. Some even started clapping. Clearly the party was already considered a hit.

Anna noticed out of the corner of her eye that a few of the women had started whispering to each other, their eyes glued to Anna’s midsection. Maybe even saying four people didn’t know was an overestimation.

Come on, little one. Move.

But still nothing.

Instead, Anna’s stomach growled, and she knew she needed to get to the food tables. Pronto. She saw Elsa there, too, finishing up the last of the ice sculptures. A reindeer looking much like Sven perched excitedly by the pickled herring. Perfect. Two birds, one stone.

Anna bounded up to her sister first, skipping in an unbridled excitement. Unfortunately, this excitement was almost purely due to the promise of stuffing lutefisk into her belly which made her mind want to stage a rebellion against her stomach at the very idea. But she paid no mind.

Her fabulous sister, first.

“Elsa, I’m so glad you came!”

Elsa laughed. Remaining calm, of course. As usual. She stood tall as Anna collapsed into her arms. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your favorite night of the year.”

“Thanks for doing the sculptures, too. Everybody loves them,” Anna said, eyes drifting to the series of sculptures that adorned the space, catching a glimpse of a replica of her favorite snowman and smiling widely. “Especially giant Olaf at the dessert table.”

“That one’s my favorite to make.” Elsa took a step back, away from her sister by a couple paces. She took a moment to gaze intently at Anna, something that apparently had become the theme for the day, pursing her lips while deep in some train of thought. And then, suddenly, the corners of her mouth curled into a giddy grin. She closed the gap between them and whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re glowing.”

Anna laughed. Elsa’s breath kind of tickled her ear. “I know, right?!”

“Is it weird if I say that I think pregnancy suits you?”

“Whoa, Elsa. That is way out of line. And you said the word pregnant? Shame on you!” Anna’s voice got dramatically low when she uttered the taboo word she didn’t actually think needed to be taboo.

Elsa blushed. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I’m kidding, Elsa! I agree with you. Will come in handy—you know—because we want lots of babies and everything,” Anna said. “I love the word pregnant, too. It’s so much easier and less awkward than the whole with child or in the family way nonsense. Like talk about beating around the bush. Jesus.”

“You hungry?”

“Oh, God yes. Thanks for reminding me.” Anna turned, reading to make a beeline for the lutefisk. But then she chuckled slightly and spun back to face her sister. “You’ll never guess what I want to eat, though.”

“Uh—herring?”

“Lutefisk.”

“Lutefisk? You—Anna—want to eat lutefisk?”

“I legitimately want to stuff twenty-five pounds of lutefisk into my mouth right now.”

Elsa laughed in pure shock. “You’re right. I never would’ve guessed.”

“I don’t know if it’s the salt or the disgustingly chewy yet soft consistency that’s getting me going, but it’s doing it. I’m feeling all tingly thinking about it.” Anna shuddered involuntarily How did that sound so good? Truly how? Repulsive. Lutefisk was nothing short of repulsive. “Can you help me fill some plates full?”

“I think your King already has you covered.”

Kristoff, goofy grin plastered on his face, approached the sisters with three plates full of lutefisk and potatoes precariously perched on top of each other. Somehow his left hand held two full glasses of mulled wine.

He passed her a glass of wine and one plate of lutefisk to start. “For you, my love.” He handed the other glass of wine to Elsa who graciously accepted.

Anna attacked the plate. Slurping down the fish in record time. Her face twisted in to some kind of combination of a gag and a smile. “Oh God this is truly horrendous.” Gulp. “Horrid. No…disgusting.” Gulp. “And so grossly…slimy?” Gulp. One plate down. Kristoff handed her the next one. “But also… man oh man does it really hit the spot.”

“I always liked lutefisk,” Kristoff said, taking a piece for himself.

Anna stopped what she was doing and shot daggers at him. “So this is your fault? Lutefisk and a massive … I swear we’re gonna find a way for the trolls to make you go through this next time.”

“You know you love it.” Kristoff smiled mischievously yet again. Taking another satisfied bite of the lutefisk.

Anna pouted playfully and grabbed one handful of lutefisk, flinging it directly into Kristoff’s face. “Trolls.” Another piece. “You.” And another. Kristoff had started opening his mouth to catch the pieces, swallowing in bliss with each successful catch and each delicious bite. “Next.” Anna tried to remain serious, but a smile was toying on her lips. Another toss. “Time.” The grand finale. Anna tricked Kristoff with a fake throw and tossed it into her own mouth instead. He furrowed her eyebrows and looked around, confused. Not having any inkling as to what actually happened. Elsa had started cracking up. Those two. Always getting up to some kind of ridiculous antics.

Anna couldn’t contain her laughter anymore and it came spilling out quickly to the point where she could barely catch her breath. She felt something like gas bubbling in her stomach and tried to calm herself, worried she had upset the whole peace of her body by gorging herself with food and then laughing too hard. But she didn’t have any burp in her… curious. Gassy without gas. Once she had successfully quelled her laughter, she started feeling it again. Gas … or bubbles … or butterflies teeming in her stomach?

Or…

OR…

OR!

Anna outwardly gasped. One hand immediately shot to her abdomen and the other covered her mouth.

Elsa and Kristoff both looked at her curiously, both cocking their head in the exact same way.

“Oh my God it’s happening!” Anna squealed, bouncing up and down so frantically that her mulled wine kept spilling over the cup.

They continued to look at her, confused as ever.

Both her hands rested on her stomach now. “It feels like… all of Elsa’s ice fireworks are going off in here!”

Now Kristoff and Elsa understood. Their eyes widened, they audibly gasped.

Still bouncing, Anna giggled. “Oooh tickly!”

“Anna?!” Kristoff ventured. She beamed at him and motioned him closer. He wrapped one strong arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, other hand staying low, secretly stroking her stomach.

She whispered in his ear. “Can you feel it? Can you feel our little one? At least…I think that’s what’s happening. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I mean gassy but—not gassy…” Plus, mother’s intuition? She just knew this was it. The Quickening. Finally!

He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything. But—I think that’s normal? I can…imagine it takes a while to feel it on the—outside,” Kristoff said, still close to her, hand still firmly on her belly. “But you feel it. Anna, it’s—wow. It’s real. This is happening. I’m so—I’ve never been more—this is the happiest I’ve ever felt.” He kissed her, passionately, on the lips.

“Me too,” Anna said as she pulled away, looking longingly into his fiery brown eyes. Another little flutter resonated through her and she giggled. Pressing her hand and thus Kristoff’s hand deeper into her stomach. “I wish you could feel it.”

“Someday.” He kissed her again.

“Screw the troll idea. You were right. This is so cool. Totally worth the lutefisk cravings.” Their laughter was interrupted by Elsa’s hands looping over both of their shoulders, hugging them tightly. Excitedly.

“Kristoff, Anna! Congratulations. Both of you.”

“Aww, thanks, sister,” Anna said, chuckling into her smile. Noting that Elsa’s cheeks seemed markedly more flushed and she wondered if the mulled wine had already gotten to her. “Wait.” Anna started bouncing again. So enthusiastically that neither Elsa nor Kristoff could keep holding onto her. “This means we can tell people! Oh my gosh can we tell them tonight? Can we, can we, can we?”

“How about right now?”

“Right now?” Anna’s voice cracked. “Right now right now?”

“Let’s go.” Kristoff held out his hand and Anna grabbed it quickly, forcefully. With all the intent in the whole world.

They raced to the small stage where the choir and the band performed. Their royal presence was enough to stop the singing mid-phrase, choir members bowing at attention.

“You don’t need to do that,” Anna said. “Your singing is beautiful, by the way. Thank you for being here. Uh—we just wanted to make an announcement. If that’s okay, of course. We can wait!” Somehow, Anna’s extreme giddiness was still manifesting as a constant and consistent bounce.

The choir singers looked at each other with what Anna perceived as knowing glances, and then nodded for the King and Queen to proceed.

They took center stage, Anna still bouncing, hand-in-hand. “Uh—hello, Arendelle! We wanted to take the time to thank you all for coming to the annual Christmas Ball. We hope you’re enjoying the food and the music and the holiday merriment! We are so happy this has become a tradition, and if I do say so myself, this might be the best ball yet. And not only because of—well, the ball… as of well—tonight, actually, Kristoff and I can finally announce that …” Anna took a moment to scan the crowd of eager faces. Maybe there were more than four who had no idea. “We’re having a baby!” Anna squealed and then screamed, raising her arm and thus also Kristoff’s arm into the air. Kristoff had also let out a few cheers. The crowd applauded, reaching a steady crescendo just as Kristoff picked Anna up and spun her around, giddily laughing, before bringing her face into his hands for a tender kiss. He then dropped to his knees in front of his wife, leaning in slightly, large hands now cupping her belly. Showing off her belly. Celebrating her belly. No more hiding. Just like Anna had wanted. He planted a tender kiss on the curve and the crowd cheered once again. Anna’s hands found their way into his hair and she ruffled it a bit, messing it up in a way she found exceedingly adorable. She turned back to the crowd, Kristoff still rubbing her belly in elation. “Baby Bjorgman is coming at the end of May!” Now Anna noticed a small corner of the crowd exchanging pieces of gold. Of course there had been some bets going on. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Kristoff stood up, kissed Anna once more, and then grabbed her hand, interlacing her fingers with his own. Anna took her other hand and cupped her belly, showing the crowd in more detail exactly how far along she was. Exactly. No mind games from any extra clothing. The buttons on her dress were still close to breaking loose. “Oh, and another thing! Maternity corsets are for the birds. It can’t be healthy to wear them all… tight and constricting and—” Without knowing how to control it, Anna shuddered a bit. So happy to be free. And safe. “Besides—let it all hang out, baby!” She did a little dance right then, shaking her rump and rubbing her belly. Laughter echoed throughout the crowd and then a whole conversation stirred. Anna hoped it wasn’t too judgmental… she didn’t want them to think she had taken anything too far.

But no matter. Kristoff was right. As Queen, she could make some rules. She could set some expectations. Even if not well received in the beginning, they could still hold weight.

Kristoff leaned in to whisper in Anna’s ear. “No more secrets.”

She smiled. Thank God. “Shall we celebrate?”

He nodded. “Let’s dance.”

The choir started singing again. The band joined in. The Holly and The Ivy, a Christmas classic. Merriment abound. Merriment all around. Although Kristoff and Anna took the lead, dancing alone for a few minutes, eventually more and more guests joined in. A little bit of Hallingdansen, a lot bit of pols, and the most bit of Kristoff taking advantage of the fact that the whole kingdom knew how overjoyed they were with the news of their growing family by essentially hardcore smooching in the middle of the dance floor. Their tongues had a good time dancing the Halling, too, and they paid absolutely no mind to the fact that all eyes were on them. Maybe the mulled wine was getting to them, too, or perhaps it was simply euphoria. Between the kisses, Kristoff frequently dropped to his knees to kiss Anna’s stomach or rub excited circles over the curves during the dances. Anna giggled each time, noticing that the flutters seemed to come in more enthusiastic waves when Kristoff’s hands or lips came in contact with her belly.

This felt good. To finally have the freedom to really celebrate. True bliss. True happiness. The best of all the past Christmas Balls. And they had a feeling no future ball could ever compare.

#kristanna #frozen #fanfic #fanfiction #myfics #christmas #fluff #canonverse

27 notes · View notes

ahatintimepieces · 3 years

Text

Stars and Gray Skies

Fit in another request for the night! @toxic-lavender requested “You are my sunshine” and I finally got something for it. Hope this is along the lines of what you’re looking for! Please enjoy!

“Do you miss her?”

Snatcher turned the page of his book, refusing to look down at child craning her head back as she perched in his lap.

“The deal was, if you were going to be a nuisance, you would be a silent nuisance.”

“But do you?” Hattie leaned back into his chest.

He ignored her.

“Do you?” She reached up and waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Do you? Do you? Do you?”

“Kid,” he huffed, taking her hand and pushing it away. “Stop.” Sighing, he finally met her wide eyes. “Miss who?”

He knew who she was going to say before she said it, of course. How couldn’t he?

“Vanessa.”

The name still sent involuntary shivers down his spine.

Readjusting his position so she couldn’t notice his tremble, he closed the book and poofed it away with a snap of his talons. He propped an elbow—or the approximation of one—on the armrest and leaned into his talon.

“Why do you care?” His grin stretched up his face.

“We’re contractual BFFs!” Hattie scooted around, sitting crisscross applesauce on his lap. “We’re supposed talk about things.”

“Things?” Snatcher repeated tiredly, hoping if he put off answering her question long enough, she would forget about it.

“Things that make us happy or sad.” Hattie shrugged.

“Oh yeah?” Snatcher lowered his voice, a mischievous look on his features. “That sounds like information I can use for blackmail!” Or the Death Wish Contracts he gave her. “Well then, BFF, what makes you sad?”

“Stars,” she answered, picking at a stray fuzz on her boot.

“What?” His mouth dropped, his smile faltering. He hadn’t expected her to actually answer. She sounded genuine too. Why on Earth would stars make an alien sad?

“I remember this one time,” Hattie began, bouncing her knees, “that Bow and I, back home—”

“Bow?”

“My friend! She wears a big cute bow,” Hattie explained, “but anyway, we were stargazing one night before we got our assignments. We saw a shooting star and I wished for adventure and she wished for a challenge. We thought we would get to fly together but…” Hattie sighed, “her assignment was to learn how to build and maintain engines while mine was a piloting mission.”

“So…” Snatcher raised his brow, “Wishes coming true made you sad? Not stars?” He plucked her hat off of her head and ruffled her hair before placing it back, “You gotta be wary of the good old monkey’s paw!”

“The what?” Hattie wrinkled her nose and took off her hat. She placed it in her lap as she fixed her messed up hair.

“Short story. Bit above your reading age.” Snatcher smirked.

“Hmm,” Hattie hummed thoughtfully before hugging her hat to her chest. “It wasn’t just the wishes, but the fact that, because of them, we were separated and had to do different jobs.”

“And stars remind you of that?”

“Sort of. I also once got caught in the gravitational pull of a star that turned into a black hole.”

She said it so casually he thought she was joking at first. They stared at each other as he waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, he shook his head in disbelief.

“You did not.”

“Did to!” Hattie blew a raspberry before laughing. “It was scary, but I got away! It actually happened a little bit before I got stuck here.”

“You actually almost died in a black hole?” Snatcher clasped his talons together, frowning.

“Yeah,” her voice got small. “I… It was so dark there. I was scared I’d never see the sunlight again, or constellations, or Bow.”

He pictured this kid, tiny and who trembled when he had first caught her in his trap, escaping a black hole all on her own. It wasn’t hard to imagine her accomplishing such a feat. It was hard to see the sorrow that had settled on her features, recalling how alone she had been. With something flickering in his chest, he started to reach out. But she bounced on his lap, looking up with smile, and he recoiled, scowling.

“Okay! Your turn! Do you miss Vanessa?” She asked. On the surface, she seemed as cheerful as she could be, but the ghost who once upon a time lived a life wearing smiles constantly, he could pick up on the slight hint of clouds threatening to obscure the light of her countenance in an instant.

He let out a heavy sigh, caving.

“Alright, alright, give me a second.” He glanced away, thinking. “Gray skies.”

He peeked at her slightly confused look, but she remained silent, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“I remember gray skies cleared when she laughed. I remember when I was at law school, her letters brought with them warmth and sunshine. But then… her letters stopped, and the gray skies remained.” He rubbed the back of his neck, scratching at his shadowy fluff.

“I remember I loved her. And she loved me,” he continued. “Once, she called me her sunshine after I painted a picture of the moon.” It had made him so happy, to feel like he could offer the same comfort she gave him.

“You’ve showed me the storybook,” he sighed, “so you know about the cellar.”

He remembered the horrible things she had spat at him, while he was chained. She had yelled about how he loved another. He hadn’t. And she screamed how he had shattered her heart. He hadn’t meant to.

He spared a glance upward, meeting Hattie’s eyes.

“I might miss the times that felt like—” like sunshine, “—but I know I can’t go back,” he finished in fragments. “I guess… gray skies are my stars.”

Hattie held his gaze for a moment before crawling forward and wrapping her small arms around him, resting her head against his fluff.

“Kid! What—”

“Snatcher, I have a confession,” she whispered into his mane.

“What, Kiddo?”

“It’s not really stars that make me sad, it’s all the ways they remind me that eventually I’ll always have to say goodbye.”

The shadow froze.

He thought about grey skies, and how colorless the cellar and chains had been. He thought about the white snow and shadows in the trees. He thought about the first nights braving the blizzard as a wandering ghost, fading and sleeping in the cold only to wake up to an absence in his arms.

He thought about Hattie, the bright kid who shone like sunlight, leaving to go home.

He thought about the contracts he kept making, trying to get her to stay.

“I also have a confession,” Snatcher admitted, “I think I was just talking about goodbyes when I said gray skies, too.”

“We’ll always be best friends, though, right?” Her voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear. “Like me and Bow?”

Hesitating for only a moment, he finally returned her hug.

“You did write forever into the contract, Brat,” he teased. “So, I guess so.”

She nodded, tightening her hold.

They both dreaded the thought of goodbyes.

“For every star that falls,” Snatcher began, patting her back before she pulled away, “a new one lights up the night sky.”

Though small, a genuine smile found its way onto her features.

“And no matter how cloudy it gets, the sun is still there,” she added. He smirked and flicked her hat, nearly knocking it off her head.

“Hey!” She leaned back to grab it, laughing.

“Now, don’t you have some of my minions to torment, or something?” He cleared his throat, summoning his book back.

“Will you read to me later,” she asked, jumping off of his tail.

“Only if you can complete another contract,” he said, knowing he would read for her whether she did or not.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready!” She called, before running off to play. Eyes on his book, he smirked, listening to her call out to the subconites.

They both dreaded the thought of goodbyes. But for now, it wasn’t time to part just yet. For now, they both still had a reason to smile.

#a hat in time #toxic-lavender #ahit snatcher #ahit hat kid #song lyric drabbles #my writing #BACK AT IT AGAIN AT KRISPY KREME AT 11 AT NIGHT #very tired but was determined to finish this tonight #might slow down with drabbles for the rest of the week and focus on chapters #hopefully #i'll try anyway :'D #as always let me know what you think!#have a great night/day/morning and without further ado im off to bed

37 notes · View notes

steampunkglasses · 4 years

Text

— danganronpa v3 girls headcanons: cute nicknames 💕✨

I JUST SCROLLED TO THE BOTTOM OF MY DRAFTS TO FIND OUT I FORGOT TO POST THIS I— I FEEL SO DUMB

also boys version here

Kaede Akamatsu

she would ask you to call her something first, and she would think about a nickname for you based on whatever you named her.

she would be more to elaborate poems and whole cheesy sentences then to elaborate names for you.

(oh shuichi, you play my heart better than I play the piano)

okay I’ll stop sorry

Maki Harukawa

she’s not the type to show affection, so she will always call you by your name

nevertheless, you call her “sweetie” often, and she blushes every time you say it

one day, when nobody is looking, she tries calling you “sweetie,” for once

“what did you just call me?”

“do you wanna die?”

you smile, “it’s okay, I loved it. and I love you even more.”

she blushes again, not saying anything else

she proceeds to call you “sweetie” every now and then when you two are alone.

Himiko Yumeno

“nicknames? nyeh, what a pain.”

you ask her to think about something cute for her to call you, or just try.

��something cute... bunnies?”

“yes! yes I love it!”

“nyeh, I shall call you bunny then!”

you just loved it.

you ask her if she wants to be called anything or if she wants you to come up with any nicknames for her

“hmm... master is good.”

“hm... sure.”

you end up continuing to call her “himiko” when you guys are out, but sometimes you actually remember her request and calls her master.

she calls you bunny often now, though.

Miu Iruma

she would call you something nsfw— which would probably paralyze you when she does it for the first time, but, thinking about it, you realize you probably shouldn’t be surprised.

you ask her to stop calling you that.

“b-but— why—”

“it’s... kinda embarrassing... but, please, stop.”

she doesn’t understands it right, but respects that you don’t like it and calls you by your name.

she still wants to be called something dirty, though. obviously, you refuse, and she frowns again.

“what if I called you ‘sweetheart’?”

she blushed; that warmed her heart, but she wouldn’t admit it, “whatever, nerd.”

you smiled; you know exactly how your girlfriend is.

Tenko Chabashira

(I had to make this one a fem!reader sorry)

she calls you the first cute name or thing it comes to her head when she sees you.

“is this degenerate male bothering you, darling?!”

“do you need anything, sweetheart?!”

“I’ll always protect you, honey!”

once, you two were hanging out with angie and she made flower crowns to the group. as she put yours above your head, tenko’s eyes shined, and she said, “you look beautiful, my flower queen!” and sometimes she still calls you “her flower queen.”

Angie Yonaga

darling, honey and beloved would be recurrent options.

she would call you by a nickname she made up out of your name mostly though.

sometimes, even “muse” when she wants to make a piece inspired by you.

Kirumi Tojo

you would be her “master.”

if you ask her to call you something else, and she would ask you what you wish her to call you, and she would call you whatever you tell her.

“you don’t need to act like a maid near me though—“

“b-but you love me so much... I am to serve you.”

“kirumi—“

Tsumugi Shirogane

“babe” and “darling” on main.

sometimes she calls you “sweetheart” or “prince/princess/royalty” though.

(I’m sorry I wanted to write something better but I just think it’s really hard to write for tsumugi—)

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #danganronpa headcanons #ndrv3 headcanons #headcanons #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 headcanons #danganronpa hcs #ndrv3 hcs #v3 headcanons

29 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 4 years

Text

(abandoned) it’s late, just stay

john wick / reader genre: sugar daddy au rating: general, mature themes words: 2.4k warnings: sugar daddy relationship, slight john wick 2 spoilers i guess a/n: this 1 is for me. i wrote her in a heat,,,she’s literally not finished. but im adding her to my online portfolio 4 the memories. Also fyi the profile was made before i indulged in seeking arrangements and as a sugar baby i know that ur not allowed to mention 90% of brooklynbaby’s bio in ur bio but who cares man this is fiction and im making it up

At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”

Sometimes, John doesn’t really know how he gets himself into awkward situations.

The first few occasions, he figured it was merely a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While, actually, this always worked out in his favour, John began to notice that it was more frequent that he ended up at a bar with some people he didn’t really know, or being invited to a baby shower as the date of a woman he had never even met before. Granted, John enjoyed company whenever he could get it, and whenever it avoided conflict; however socialism has never been his strongest asset. No, he simply prefers silent gestures or glances across rooms, ‘eye conversations’ where he says hello and nothing else for the remainder of the evening.

“You just need to loosen up a bit,” is what Addy had told him, whilst slipping him a glass of straight Bourbon. It had been a relatively quiet evening in the Continental, and just when John thought he could have five minutes of peace and quiet, Addy has slipped in his line of sight. “You know, go out. Make new friends.”

“You’re my friend,” John replied. He made no room to elaborate on that statement, swallowing the contents of the drink and pushing it back to her with a short nod. She sighed and rolled her eyes, doing her job.

“No, you know what you really need?” He didn’t answer, glancing at her through his hair as she filled his drink and rested her weight on her elbows. Instantly, John didn’t like the feeling in his stomach when Addy raised her eyebrows suggestively, tugging on her bottom lip with newfound excitement: “I think you need to get laid.”

And when John scoffed with humour, she tried again, “and not like, laid as in you have a one night stand. No- hear me out, John! You should invest in a sugar baby. You know, someone you can spend time with when you’re not doing the dirty work for everybody else. It’s fun, and frisky, and also means you can start spending some of the millions you have stashed somewhere not being used.”

She tutted like a scolding mother, “Selfish boy.” Addy then smiled, “Maybe instead of retirement, what you really need is something to help you unwind.”

John scoffed, gulping back the Bourbon. “I’m married.”

At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”

That’s really all the thinking he had done on the subject of John- John fucking Wick- investing in a sugar baby. He simply took it in stride, almost complimented by the assumption that he was attractive and rich enough to have someone leaning on him for money and sex, and stored it away for future thought when he was lost and drunk. John never actually considered the possibility of “putting his bills to good use” until fucking Santino D’Antonio decided to light a bonfire inside his house. Having lost virtually everything related to Helen, he found himself back at the Continental, back to listening to Addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to Seeking Arrangements.

John doesn’t know why he’s doing this, staring at the laptop screen that smiles at him. For circumstances, Addy had loaned him her laptop for the evening he spends at the Continental, and he’s too busy browsing the elaborately made profiles that he barely registers the fact that he is still wearing his suit. He pulls at the cuffs of his blazer and is midway through taking it off when he stumbles across a profile- one of which is oddly amusing- titled brooklynbaby. He racks his mind for the reference but can’t seem to place it.

“A sugar baby suggests that I sleep with them, and as I said,” John had mentioned back in the bar, “I’m married.”

Addy had grabbed his hands and groaned, “Look- you might surprise yourself. And, I’m not suggesting that you throw your wife away for somebody new. I’m just saying you need to...make use of yourself. Honestly, you’re too sexy to be stored away like this. Most sugar babies are dumb and unobservant, they won’t even know who you are.”

brooklynbaby makes an adorably hilarious first impression, and John is hesitant to browse her profile. If he wanted to “make use of himself” by investing all of his personal time into somebody who in truth wanted him for his dick and his bank balance, then it needed to be somebody at least near to his wavelength. Somebody who was smart, but clueless at the same time, and somebody who was the complete opposite of Helen. The last thing he needed on top of a handful of a baby was the guilt of moving on. But still, even when he pinned her tab and returned to scrolling through the profiles, John realised that most sugar babies were simply trolls hidden behind pretty pictures, or girls who wanted money for pleasure and not for need.

He went back to brooklynbaby. Three times. Three times, before he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck it,” and favoriting her account, and pressing to send a message.

Even online, John was never great with words. He typed, and backspaced, and typed again, trying to come up with something interesting to make up for the bland profile he made around thirty minutes ago.

From: johnwick So. You like dogs?

If Addy were here, she would have slapped him.

Almost immediately after it sends, John lets out a frustrated noise and tears his gaze away from the screen. Dating just wasn’t like how it was when he met Helen. Why did everything have to be so complicated, and mysterious, and why the hell does he even have to waste his money on somebody when he could be saving this money to eventually, whenever the day comes, retire? John wrestles with the dilemma of deleting the whole account when a notification bell rings through the laptop speakers.

From: brooklynbaby yes, I love dogs!!! :D (typing) do you have a dog?

John breathes a sigh of relief.

From: johnwick Yes. I do.

From: brooklynbaby oh, great. :) (typing)

John’s leg begins to bounce quickly, the table wavering with the glass on top, like an earthquake. Suddenly, brooklynbaby stops typing and John stills. Why did she stop? Did he do something wrong? Honestly, women are so hard to please nowadays.

From: brooklynbaby want to be my sugar daddy?

Never mind.

From: johnwick I would.

From: brooklynbaby cool

Neither him or brooklynbaby says anything for a few moments, and John doesn’t notice. After-all, he is still a working man, busy with life and revenge and trying to stay alive for more than three seconds. When he goes back to the laptop and sees no reply, he frowns.

From: johnwick I am sorry. I really don’t know what I’m doing. What am I supposed to say?

He makes a mental reminder to have words with Addy later.

From: brooklynbaby /(*u*)/ you’re cute we could make dinner reservations and talk over terms if you’d like!!! i say reservations because they’re fancy and if anything goes wrong, we can pretend we’re… business partners? discussing business?

Without even really realising, John finds himself laughing shortly, settling back into the chair. All of this feels weird, as in typing to a stranger he’s planning to spend his money on and occasionally fuck. John quickly revisits her profile and spends four minutes analysing her profile picture. If this is her, then she’s really very beautiful. A steal.

From: johnwick When are you free for dinner?

From: brooklynbaby hmm well i’m dogsitting tomorrow, but i can be free for the day after!!!! is that okay ^_^

From: johnwick That would be fine. [Address] at 7pm, does that work for you?

brooklynbaby pauses.

From: brooklynbaby omg am i gonna have to dress fancy?

From: johnwick Don’t feel pressured. I only own black.

From: brooklynbaby well….guess i’ll bring out like one of my old uni party dresses :( but you have to promise not to judge me!!!

John laughs again. At some point during the evening, he ends up with a planned dinner reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Brooklyn, and he’s also 2 grand poorer thanks to the generous donation in brooklynbaby’s bank account for a nice evening outfit.

When John returns the laptop to Addy the following morning, he was admittedly expecting the rant that followed. She had glared at the laptop being handed back over the bar and refused to serve him until he came up with a reasonably valid excuse as to why he wasn’t putting himself out there for a bit of company. John had blinked with an unimpressed look and drummed his fingers.

“I have dinner reservations with someone tomorrow at 7pm. Also- can I have a drink?”

But of course, with work being as tedious as ever and with his whole day being completely ruined by a blood stained shirt and poor room service for the first time in his many years of frequenting the Continental, John didn’t amuse himself with brooklynbaby until he logged onto the site on his phone, and saw that she had messaged thrice during the day. He almost felt guilty, until he saw a string of numbers at the end of the last message. He deemed it less necessary to read her above messages and instead went right to texting.

brooklynbaby ok. so should i just ask for mr john wick when i get to this restaurant??? sorry for so many texts im just kinda nervous

me Yes. I booked under my name and I will be waiting for you when you arrive. Why are you nervous? Didn’t you ask me to be here?

brooklynbaby well if we’re going to be technical then YOU asked me to dinner first :P and im nervous because i have nooo idea who you are send a picture?

John sank into bed.

me Maybe I like the element of surprise.

brooklynbaby seems a lil unfair that you get to see me but i dont get to see you :( ive seen ur dog before you thats saying something

me You could have used any image. If we’re going to be technical, I don’t even know your name, or if that is really you in the image.

John really hadn’t been expecting a full blown nude image at 4:15pm in the afternoon, but he will admit that it was nevertheless what he needed to break some steam. He had arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes earlier than expected, but that’s okay, Mr Wick. Right this way! Now that he was sitting here, at an empty table overlooking Brooklyn and the lights, with an already ordered bottle of wine, John could understand and relate to the first date nerves. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Not since-

brooklynbaby uhhh im kind of here like ten minutes early should i wait outside for you :3

He laughs, mostly to himself.

me I’m already up here. I ordered a rosé, is that alright?

brooklynbaby YES IM RUNNING

And, surprising himself also, John had clammed up and reached for his glass. Thankfully, the owner of this restaurant knew John by face and order, because, after-all, this had been his go-to with Helen. These days, he doesn’t have time to go out to new places and eat new things, and so had panicked, and picked a place with sentimental value, and a history of good food. He gulped back his glass of Bourbon and waited until the door at the other side of the room opened meekly, and he tried to appear vacant as the waiter led a woman across the room and towards him.

“Your date, Mr Wick.”

He left curtly and brooklynbaby followed his body as he left, her feet firmly glued to the floor as her head looked back over her shoulder. John took this as an opportunity to look at her body, covered in a beautiful dress he felt proud of paying for. Finally, brooklynbaby looked towards him and paused, observing him and his clearly surprising appearance. John then remembered the gash on his cheekbone and the way he probably looked very off-putting with an unshaven face and long hair, but brooklynbaby smiled softly and raised her brows, beating him to helping her in her chair as she quickly sat down and looked at his glass.

“How did you know I liked beards?”

John didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t.”

brooklynbaby rolled her eyes with a grin. “Of course you didn’t.” She looked up, then, properly taking in his face. John did the same, looking at every feature present and coming to the quick conclusion that yes, she was definitely the woman in the pictures, and yes, she was one of the most gorgeous humans he had ever seen on planet Earth since Helen herself.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said honestly. “But, more than my expectations. I don’t believe I’ve really introduced myself- I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

He tried it out in his head. Y/N. Y/N L.N, Y/N L/N, Y/N Wick-

“John,” he replied and she sniggered and rested her chin in her palms.

“You’re seriously so handsome,” she complimented. “Are you sure you’re not married, or something?”

Her gaze panned to his hands where she noticed the wedding band, and for a moment, she hesitated. John wasn’t ashamed of the ring, nor embarrassed to be seen wearing it. He toyed with it on his finger, looking at her from across the table. “It’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded meekly. “I see.” She cleared her throat, “divorce? Planned divorce? Affair?”

“No, I’m widowed,” he tried out a joke, but she only looked more uncomfortable. Her mouth gaped and she fumbled for words.

“Oh, John, I’m really sorry- no, really, I’m so sorry,” she stumbled, and John watched her carefully across the table. “God, how fucking insensitive. Sorry, I guess that just. Wow, that never really crossed my mind. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past,” John said, finding finality in that sentence. “I’m trying to move on from it.”

Y/N nodded sympathetically. “No, yeah, wow, I get it. Completely. I...hope I live up to great expectations, then?”

John smiled and looked past her, noticing the waiter rounding the corner with the bottle of rose. “You’re getting there, Miss L/N.”

#imagine if i was good and finished this it would be glorious #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick scenario #john wick imagine #john wick smut #john wick sugar daddy #john wick 2 #unfinished #gwoongi

153 notes · View notes

fire-the-headcanons · 3 years

Text

Follow the Beacon Summer—Special Request

[Link to Masterpost]

[Apparently I didn’t post the last few chapters on Tumblr? Use the masterpost to make sure you don’t miss anything]

"Years ago, an unprecedented era of peace began on Remnant. Never before had the kingdoms of the world been so united. The Vytal Festival was created with two goals in mind: first, as a celebration of our peace and unity, sharing in one another's cultures. Second, as a time to contemplate the ongoing struggle to continue that peace.

"Students— …Future protectors of Remnant. As you head out into the world this week to work as Huntsmen-and-Huntresses-in-training, I implore you to remember that peace is in your hands."

"All right, guys, it's go time," Summer said, whirling to face her team. "What kind of mission are we doing?"

"I vote search and destroy," Tai said. "It'll get us out of the Kingdom, at least."

The twins chorused their agreement, and Summer nodded. "All right. Out of the Kingdom it is." She turned toward the mission boards, and stopped short.

Ozpin smiled. "Good morning, Team STRQ."

"…Good morning, Professor," Summer squeaked, painfully aware that the last time she had been this close to the headmaster was the night she broke into his office. The others repeated her greeting just as warily.

"I'm happy to inform you that a Huntsman working just outside of Vale has heard of your prodigious tracking abilities and requested to work with your team specifically." He beamed down at them.

"It's not Professor Mesánychta, is—ow."

Ozpin chuckled. "No, he doesn't teach at this Academy. Would you like to meet with him?"

"Um, yeah!" Summer said. A Huntsman had requested them? A team of first years? Had that ever happened before?!

They followed Ozpin to the small door right of the stage, and Summer spared the twins a quick glance. Qrow looked as excited as she felt, but Raven's eyes burned nervous holes in Ozpin's shoes. After a moment she seemed to sense Summer's gaze and met her eye. Summer returned what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Dad? What are you doing here?!"

Tai's cry of dismay instantly drew her attention back to the door, and the Huntsman standing on the other side of it.

Huang smiled brightly as the rest of them filed into the hall. "Well, your friends were busy over break, so we thought this would be a nice time to meet them." He offered his hand to Qrow. "It's good to finally meet you! Huang Xiao Long."

"Uh, you too," Qrow took it, slightly awed. "I'm Qrow."

"And you must be Raven," he continued, offering his hand again.

Stiffly, she shook it, avoiding eye contact. "Yes, sir."

"No need for sir, just call me Huang." He stepped back again, resting his hands on his hips. "What do you say, kids? Want to come to Patch for the week?"

"Come on, Dad, we've already trained on Patch for years," Tai pleaded. "We wanted to… y'know… try a challenge…"

"It would mean a lot to us, Tai. Particularly if they'll be staying over for the summer! Don't you think it would make everyone more comfortable?"

The unspoken words were easy to hear. The twins need time to get used to us. And he was right, as much as Summer hated to abandon the idea of training in the wilds this week. It had to be why they refused to commit to staying.

Tai sighed, glancing at her, and they both looked at Qrow, who looked at Raven.

"Okay," she squeaked, clearly petrified.

"Great!" Huang said with genuine warmth. "If you're ready to go, Balt's waiting for us at the docks."

Summer bit back a sigh, falling in line behind him. Back to Patch? This wasn't a mission—this was a vacation.

For Qrow and Raven. They need it, we'll make it work.

***

Balt wasn't the only one at the docks.

"…Mom?" Summer faltered. "What are you doing here?"

"Accompanying my partner to pick up our students," she replied, all business for about two seconds before dragging her into a hug, made slightly awkward by the duffel bag. "I'm not putting my feet up all week just because you two are coming home." Releasing Summer, she turned to the twins and offered her hand with exaggerated formality. "Claret Rose."

"Qrow Taupe." He stepped forward to take it, and the smile froze on her face, hesitating a moment. He didn't seem to notice, but then, Summer knew her better.

"You're in luck, kids, because this is the only nonstop flight to Patch," Balt said with an overly elaborate gesture at the airship doors. Raven shrank back, glad for the excuse to avoid getting too close to the strangers.

"It's the only flight to Patch," Tai elaborated. "Balt is the island's only pilot. There's a sea ferry too but it takes more than an hour."

"I'm more than just a ferry pilot." Balt pretended to be hurt as they filed aboard. "I help with high-altitude landing classes at the school. And the odd flying Grimm." The door closed with a hiss and he dropped into his seat.

"He's the best." Summer gave Raven a reassuring smile—she perched next to her brother in the back of the airship, tension coiled in her posture until Balt eased them into the air with barely a wobble. It was hard not to smile as glared at the back of his head with something like begrudging respect.

"So… what are we going to be working on this week?" Tai asked.

"The North cliffs need clearing." Huang ignored their groans of protest, focusing on the twins. "Not all Huntsman work is high-profile targets and glamorous fights. Summer said you got interested because of comics?" Qrow turned scarlet and nodded silently, earning a laugh. "You're not the first, and you won't be the last—but they show an… er… idealized version of the job."

Their bewildered expressions asked everything for them, and he continued. "Most of our time is spent wiping out smaller Grimm before they get big enough to be a problem. It may not be exciting, but routine extermination keeps smaller settlements like Patch habitable." He glanced at Summer and her mother. "…Anything to add, Claret?"

"Uh—" she shook herself slightly. "Small Nevermores roost on the northern cliffs near the school. The terrain is a bit treacherous, so clearing them out generally falls on the teachers and local Huntresses."

"But… you've done it before?" Qrow asked, shifting his gaze to Summer.

"Well, I've always been pretty good at cliffs," Summer said, patting the rifle clipped to her belt. "And we'd usually clear them when it's warm and there's no ice. What gives?"

Her mother didn't respond, and Huang quickly jumped back in. "We won't be doing a deep clean until spring, but they've been getting a bit agitated lately. We'll pick off the largest ones, and anything else within easy reach, and then there's plenty of patrolling to do."

This'll be okay. The twins hung on to every word, Qrow with nervous excitement and Raven with pure, unfiltered anxiety. Summer bit her lip, trying to push down the disappointment. This is how I can help them. The new mission can wait for next year. The feeling wouldn't go away, like a weight glued to her heart. Not too heavy but impossible to budge.

She glanced at her mother—her gaze fixed on the floor, scowling. …Huang had been doing an unusual amount of the talking, too.

"Mom?"

She glanced up, coming back down to Remnant again. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Noth—" the lie died halfway out of her mouth, and she sighed. "…I'm just worrying and being overprotective."

"What do you—" Summer nearly missed her mother's half-glance at Huang and the twins. The island lay below now, and he pointed down at the village and the school on the northeast side as he spoke about the natural barriers presented by the island's geography.

She turned back, lowering her voice. Hopefully they'd be distracted enough by Huang's lesson to not notice. "Mom, you said yourself. They're not spies."

"I—I know," she whispered, pained. "Just… promise me you'll be careful."

"They're not bad people, either." Raven and Qrow had done plenty of strange and… maybe a bit threatening things, but… "They're just scared."

Her mother's eyes squeezed shut. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"Just be normal," she teased, elbowing her in the ribs.

"—but Azraq had to leave for a mission in a hurry," Huang said. The others were staring. "It was a bit of a rush to get him going before meeting you. We had a long morning."

"Aw, Uncle Az won't get to meet Qrow and Raven?" Tai complained.

"This summer, for sure," Balt said, almost unnoticeably beginning the descent. Raven didn't even flinch. "And he said to tell you he's very sorry."

"Not his fault," Summer mumbled.

The lighthouse swept silently past the window and the bullhead touched down on the landing pad with a small bump.

"Thanks for the lift, Balt." Huang punched him lightly on the arm on his way to open the door.

"Hey, I wanted to meet 'em too." He winked at the twins with a grin. "See you all at dinner."

The rest of them said their goodbyes and gathered up their bags before climbing down to the platform. Everyone's auras glowed faintly for a moment as the chill hit, shielding them from the sea air.

"This is where you went to school?" Qrow asked, staring around at the fort before settling on the clump of little first years huddled in the courtyard. Most of them clutched bits of pipe—gods, learning to handle metal in the cold was the worst—and stared up at the bullhead. A little boy in the middle pointed up at them and screamed, "I WANT A CAPE!"

Summer's hands flew to her mouth, but as soon as she glanced at Raven the laughter was too much to hold back. It only took a second for the boys to join in.

"This is your fault," she complained half-heartedly, glaring at her brother.

Her mother brushed past without stopping. "Come on, kids, if you want to see the island before it gets dark we need to get moving." Summer frowned at her back.

"So why's the school pointy?" Qrow asked, staring at the next arm of the star. Facing out to sea, it had a large gun instead of a landing pad fixed to it.

"It was a fort, before the Great War," Huang said. "This is the only spot where it's deep enough for ships or big Grimm to get into the harbor. Patch has been an important strategic location for hundreds of years. Back when the earthworks were solid, the shape helped deflect cannonballs. They had more than Grimm to worry about in those days."

Tai rolled his eyes. "It's also pretty much the only thing here." His voice echoed off the stone arch of the front gate. "Still too shallow near the island for anything bigger than a fishing boat."

"There's the King of Vale's house," Summer said.

Raven didn't bother to hide her incredulity, eyes darting between the little village buildings. "A king lived here?"

"Not while he was king, after he retired. …And then retired as Beacon Headmaster."

The streets of bustled, the first day of the Vytal Festival well underway. Nothing compared to the fanfare at Beacon or Vale, but it was still the biggest celebration of the year. "The fort was mostly destroyed during the Great War, and was half-rebuilt before the treaty was signed," Huang continued, leading them down the hill away from it. "They dug out the remaining earthworks, added windows, and converted it into a school."

"Then when the communication towers were finished, they just slapped the island's relay onto the lighthouse," Summer added, pointing up at the large communications dishes bolted just below the light.

Claret turned and called over her shoulder. "Let's start at the docks, you should see the defenses there."

"Okay." She returned a small smile, took a deep breath, and raised her voice back to normal. " It shouldn't take more than a day to clear the cliff near the school. We'll stay in the house tonight, and then tomorrow we'll head out to the cabin for the rest of the week. …I suppose we better figure out where everyone's going to sleep. We only have one guest room… Summer could stay with me, Tai and Huang could double up, and the twins could take Summer's room. If that's okay with ev—"

"What? No!" Summer blurted, and everyone turned to stare. Oh. "Uh… I mean, you can use my room if you want. But I'm not sleeping in my mom's room on the first night of my first mission!"

"Oh?" Her mom raised an eyebrow, this time with significantly more sass.

"…I love you. Just, no."

"What she said," Tai agreed.

"All right," Claret said, amused now, "the twins can sleep where they want, and you two can have a slumber party in the living room "

"Mooooooommmm!"

"Would you two like to join them or sleep in her room?"

"…What is a slumber party?" Raven asked.

"Hmm. Mostly staying up too late and eating too many cookies, if I remember correctly."

Summer sighed as the twins' faces lit up with cautious greed. Too normal, Mom.

Next Chapter: Raven—Quiet

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #strq #team strq #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #raven branwen #ozpin #huang xiao long #claret rose #follow the beacon balt #dang i still don't have a last name for balt gotta fix that #follow the beacon

5 notes · View notes