#and write jo interacting with children... my heart
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🧡 The Past and Pending 🐎
jo & young claire fic - 4.7k - rating: G - canon compliant - read on ao3
Jo watches the family hold hands over her shitty bar food and close their eyes in grace, in prayer. Even when they’re all hungry they take the moment to thank their god for their meal. Claire looks like a little blonde angel as she mouths along to her father’s amen. Jo supposes she once looked like that, too.
16th May, 2004. Nine years to the day since Jo's father's death, she is nineteen and working her usual shift in the Roadhouse bar. The Novak family stop by during a summer storm as they travel through the state, and Jo has the chance to bond with a seven year old Claire over horses, their love for their fathers, and leather jackets.
written for my 2024 jo's joyous birthday celebrations!! prompts were orange, horse girl, and leather jacket, which were fun to weave in. enjoy <3
read below the cut!
16th May 2004.
It’s been a slow day at the Roadhouse, the tepid May heat turning beers warm but the bouts of summer rain keeping Jo from her usual restless walks outside. The bar is gloomy and a little stifling and it’s nine years to the day since the death of her father.
By the evening Jo is working the bar, in view of the entrance. Every time the door scrapes open and the creaky floorboard goes, she is hit with one of two alternating images. The first is her father, home from his hunt, leather jacket fitted on his solid body with a smile on his face. His arms are spread wide waiting for her hug. Each time it is not him, she is forced to remember how his leather jacket is hanging emptily from a hook behind the bar and that every time she pictures his face she gets it a little more wrong.
The second image is of Uncle Bobby, hunched and sad, his grief silhouetted in the doorway light as he brings the sorry news. Her dad’s leather jacket in his hands, all that was left of him. What news does he bring this time? How many dead? The first image fills her with sorrow, the second with fear, both memories rising to the surface on the anniversary like crumbs in beer.
Jo mindlessly wipes down the bar, any tears that land on the countertop instantly disappearing beneath the cloth. It’s just one of those days. Ellen is in the back, unpacking the delivery that came in the morning, also quieter than usual. At least they’re not screaming at each other. That’s something.
The front door scrapes the floor as it swings open and Jo is called back to the present. She brushes her eyes once with the back of her hand, the one holding the rag, as if she’s only wiping sweat from her forehead. When she turns to face the new customers Jo knows no one will be able to tell she was crying. She’s good at things like that.
“Heya, what can I get for you?” she calls over the bar, and then instantly sighs as she sees the newcomers. Neither of the images in her head have materialized, but a third, more frustrating one has: civilians.
A man and a woman, married, but still fairly young, hover uncertainly in the doorway. The wife’s hair is that uninteresting midway between blonde and brunette, cut sensibly to her shoulders but clearly styled. The husband’s hair is much darker and would probably curl if not for his serious and slick side parting. The first thing Jo notices about them is their hair because this is the most immediately interesting thing about them; other than that, they look incredibly boring. Normal.
Then, from behind the man’s legs, peers a young girl. A child with a sweet tangerine gingham dress and curious eyes, maybe seven or so. Jo watches the girl take in the Roadhouse, with its burly, surly hunters hunched uninvitingly over tables marked with the questionable stains from fights and alcohol which make every surface slightly sticky.
The husband is shaking his head, gesturing round at the bar with a displeased hand. “We should go,” Jo catches him saying, “this isn’t our kind of establishment.”
Jo is too used to this happening to be offended. Besides, she always thinks why cater to civilians anyway, when they’re a hunter bar first and foremost?
But the wife stands her ground. “She needs to eat, Jimmy. We all need a break, we’ve been driving for so long. And the sooner we get home, the sooner we outrun that storm.”
Jimmy sighs, then nods. The trio shuffle awkwardly towards the bar, the child nervous at her father’s heels. She’s very blonde, as blonde as Jo.
“I know we look like it, but we don’t bite,” Jo says, mainly to the girl. She earns the trace of a smile for her troubles.
Jimmy has the decency to look a little regretful. “I’m sorry, it’s been a… long drive. We haven’t had to travel quite this far before.”
“Well, that’s what the Roadhouse is here for. What can I get you?”
The options are limited, so it doesn’t take long for the family to decide on burgers, fries, and juices all round. Jo manages to keep her face straight at the drinks order. Most of the Roadhouse clientele would drink the rainwater outside rather than order fruit juice. If it wasn’t obvious enough already, the glimmer of evening light making its way through the window catches on the cross pendant visible through the open top button of Jimmy’s collar, and confirms the family’s faith.
They go and find a table, choosing one by the window, to sit and drink their juices at. Jo sets about sorting the rest of their order, pottering about between the kitchen and the bar to serve it all up.
She’s halfway through plating the fries when movement catches the corner of her eye and she spins to see the young girl clambering up one of the high stools at the bar, the seat teetering a little under her weight.
“Hey,” Jo says, maybe a little meanly. Mostly caught by surprise. “What are you doing?”
The girl’s face falls into a round, guilty oh as she finally settles, kneeling, on the seat. “I just wanted to see what was behind.”
Jo nods, calming now that her initial panic at the girl’s movement has subsided. “That’s fine, just make sure you’re careful up there, alright? It’s a tall seat and you’re a—a small little body.”
“One day I’m going to be bigger and every seat in my house is going to be a tall seat,” the girl decides with a jut of her chin.
The comment hits Jo at such an angle it cracks her, and she barks out a laugh. “Sounds like a plan, kiddo. What’s your name?”
“Claire,” she answers. Then, with the precision of a child who has had politeness strongly instilled in her, asks, “and what’s yours?”
“Jo.”
“I thought that was a boy’s name.”
“It is,” Jo says. She gets a familiar burst of pride with it, but it feels awkwardly shallow with Claire looking up at her, so she follows with, “but it’s a girl’s name too. My full name is Joanna-Beth.”
Claire breathes a little woah . “That’s such a pretty name.”
“Huh. Um, thanks,” Jo manages. She’s never liked it, the way her mom only uses it in anger, the way her dad never used it. Joanna-Beth is someone else. Joanna-Beth is a bad daughter. Claire, though, doesn’t know any of that.
As Jo’s cheeks tinge pink, Claire’s mom comes hastening over, ready to lift Claire down from the bar stool and back to the table.
“Is she distracting you? I’m so sorry. Claire, love, come on—”
“No, it’s fine, really,” Jo placates earnestly. “I really don’t mind it. I was enjoying our chat.”
Claire beams at her. “So was I, mommy.”
Claire’s mom looks between the two of them—Jo wonders what goes on in her head as she does, two such naive-looking girls set against the backdrop of the Roadhouse—and then nods. “Well, you just give me or Jimmy a shout if you need a hand.”
“Thanks. I’m not great with kids, so I might need to,” Jo answers with a smile. It’s the truth; she’s never had much practice.
The woman raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Well, you seem to be doing a good job so far.”
Jo nods, unsure what to do with the praise.
“I’m Amelia, if you need me,” supplies Amelia instead.
“I’m Jo.”
“It’s short for Joanna-Beth,” Claire pipes up, the awe still palpable in her voice.
Amelia laughs, nodding, and runs a hand through Claire’s sleek pigtails. “Pretty name,” she tells Jo, before heading back to her husband at the table.
It’s the complement of the hour, it seems. Jo nods again, head bobbing unassuredly like one of the lame figures in Ash’s room, as she gets back to plating up the meals under Claire’s careful surveillance.
“You’ve got horses on your butt,” Claire says after ten full seconds of silence.
“What? Oh,” Jo laughs, turning in vain to glance at the horses embroidered over the back pockets of her jeans. She found them in the thrift store in town. They weren’t cheap, the horses stitched in mid-gallop over the pockets boosting the price considerably. But it’d felt wrong to leave the horses trapped in the sterile light of the thrift store. They deserve some warm lighting, Jo’d thought, where they can complete their run for freedom when no one is looking. The jeans are just a tad too small, so the plushy middle of her stomach bulges over them slightly, but she tries not to mind it. Anything for the horses.
“Do you like them?” she asks, wiggling her butt a little, much to Claire’s delight.
Jo normally keeps her movements minimal, behind the bar, knowing how hunters’ eyes glue grossly to all the places she’d least like them look. She often feels like somewhat of a dancing monkey because of it, but here it’s an innocent movement with no repercussions other than Claire’s laughter.
“They’re so fun. I wish my dress had horses on like yours,” Claire says with a plaintive sigh which sounds amusingly beyond her years.
“You like horses?”
Claire nods eagerly. “For my next birthday mommy says I can have a riding lesson.”
“Woah! That’s so cool!” Jo says, and she’s genuinely quite excited at the idea. “I’m jealous, I wish I could ride. Then I could saddle up and go wherever I wanted all by myself.” California, she’d decided sometime long ago. Or maybe Arizona. Just somewhere west of this wasteland.
“I’ll come back and teach you once I know,” Claire answers, so earnestly Jo knows she fully believes it.
Somehow, she can see it: Claire with her little arms crossed staring up at Jo perched precariously on a horse, calling instructions up to her. “I’d like that,” she says with a grin. “Where will you ride to, once you can ride absolutely anywhere?”
Claire considers the question deeply, the cogs whirring away visibly behind her eyes. “Well, I’d have to teach daddy and mommy how to ride too. I don’t want to go anywhere without them. But then I don’t mind.”
Jo hums. It’s a cute image, the three of them as one family riding off into the sunset. Not lost, because they’re together. It feels distant, familiar in the way the memories of a dream are; foreign. Whenever she has those fantasies of riding away now, she’s alone. She supposes that wasn’t always the case.
“That sounds real lovely,” she finally gets out, staring down at the burger she has started stacking. She hadn’t really realized she was doing it, just running on automatic. Thinking of her father and running on automatic, the story of her life since she lost what Claire still has.
But Claire’s concentration has dwindled and she wriggles in her seat. “Are you going to be done soon? I’m starving .”
“Hey, you’re the one distracting me!” Jo rebuts, shaking her head clear with an exaggerated sigh for Claire’s benefit. “But tell you what, I have an idea to help you grow bigger so you can always sit on the tall seats.”
“What?” Claire asks, perking back up with excitement.
Jo hunkers down to Claire’s level on the bar, resting her chin on her arms so they’re completely eye to eye. “If you help me carry the food to your table it’ll be like lifting weights and then you’ll get big and strong,” she says, voice low like she’s letting Claire in on a secret.
“You mean it’s ready?”
Jo pulls away with a roll of her eyes and fishes the basket of burger and fries from the countertop to present them on the bar. Impatiently, Claire reaches out to grab one, but Jo bats gently her hands away.
“Hey, kiddo, gotta get down from the seat first.”
“I can do it myself!” Claire protests.
But still, she doesn’t struggle as Jo comes around from behind the bar and helps lift her to the floor, Claire steadying herself against Jo’s arms. Once her feet have touched the floor, she prods at Jo’s toned tricep again with a podgy finger.
“Your arm isn’t soft,” she points out, rather frankly.
Jo gives her arm a squeeze in the same place Claire just did, to feel for herself. She always thinks she is too soft, too willowy; china doll in a bull farm. So although she trains as much as she can, shooting with her bow and arrow in the yard and sparring with the other hunters when they pass through, it never feels like enough. At least Claire thinks differently.
“It’s because it’s all muscles,” she explains. She give the smooth, plushy skin of Claire’s arm a gentle poke in return. “See, you just haven’t got any yet.”
Claire frowns as she squints down at the difference between them. “I didn’t think girls could have muscles.”
Sometimes Jo looks at herself in the mirror and wishes she’d never trained at all. That she looked like all the other girls her age. Even like Claire. Here she is, jealous of a seven year old, yet knowing that this world of comparison is what Claire will inevitably grow into. Distantly and regrettably, she reminds herself of her mother.
“All girls can have muscle if they want to, and train enough,” she says, trying to keep her words on an even keel. It feels important. But she attempts to imagine little Claire in her gingham dress with muscly arms and fails.
Claire giggles, gorgeously oblivious as she jabs at Jo’s arm again. “None of the girls at school or Sunday school are like you, Jo.”
Her throat gets a little dry. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Just a thing,” Claire notes absently, before taking the basket of greasy food from Jo’s distracted hand and sauntering over to her family with it clutched tightly in her fists. She hands it straight to her dad, who runs an affectionate hand over his daughter’s head.
“Thank you, sweetheart, this looks very lovely,” he says patiently, as she scrambles over him and onto her own seat. “Have you been kind to the nice lady?”
Jo doesn’t like that word but doesn’t have time to deal with that, recovering as she is from Claire’s rapid-fire insights. She follows the kid to the table and slides Amelia and Claire their portions, receiving grateful smiles from both Amelia and Jimmy.
“Thank you,” the family chorus, their voices naturally falling in a pleasant harmony.
Jo’s voice is lonely in comparison as she asks if she can get them more drinks. They turn down the offer and thank her again, Claire’s eyes glued to her food now that it’s properly in front of her. Slowly, Jo returns to her spot behind the bar, unabashedly gazing at the family from across the room.
She watches them hold hands over her shitty bar food and close their eyes in grace, in prayer. Even when they’re all hungry, when Claire has confessed dramatically to starvation, they take the moment to thank their god for their meal. Jo doesn’t think any food prepared by her hands is really worth it, but the prayer comes out in a low and sincere murmur from Jimmy’s mouth. Claire looks like a little blonde angel as she mouths along to her father’s amen . Jo supposes she once looked like that, too.
**
The next half hour passes with little incident, aside from a repeat round of whiskey for Shawn, Jake and Caleb in the far corner. Jo mainly watches Claire and her family eat their blessed dinner and chat, the flow easy between them. They don’t talk like most people in the Roadhouse do. They sound posher, somehow, their sentences free from apostrophes and curses. Jimmy eats his burger with a knife and fork.
Another shower of summer rain falls, the noise heavy on the Roadhouse roof. Jo expects it to pass, but instead the weather settles like that, a consistent rumble over the bar. The storm she heard Amelia mention earlier must have caught up with them, despite their desire to outrun it.
Jimmy and Amela must notice this too. They peer out of the window by their table into the ever-murkier evening, resignation growing on their faces.
“We need to make a move,” Jimmy says. “Get ahead of this before we get stuck.”
As if to emphasize the point, a crack of thunder echoes out around the Roadhouse. The sound travels potently over the flat Nebraska plains and the din of the first clap gives even the hunters in the corner a start. Claire lets out a small yelp and buries herself into her father’s side.
“It’s just thunder, sweetie,” Jimmy pacifies.
Claire mumbles something into his middle in return, but Jo can’t make it out.
“You guys finishing up?” she asks, walking over and clearing the baskets. “I’d head out before it gets worse.”
“Yes, we’d like to,” Amelia agrees, “but someone here is a little bit scared of the thunder.”
“I’m not scared,” Claire grouches, lifting a protesting head from her dad’s chest. Jo knows a liar when she sees one, knows it as she knows herself. “I just don’t want to get wet.”
Jo choses bravado and Claire choses nonchalance, but it looks like they both bury their fear. She remembers the performances she used to put on for her father to show she was capable enough to keep up with him, how loved it made her feel when he believed in her. An idea, easily shattered, starts growing in her mind, and she surges forward with it before it can break.
“So we gotta get you out to the car without getting wet, hmm?” Jo poses quizzically. Claire looks at her suspiciously, but nods along. “I have an idea,” Jo draws out, hands on hips. “We’ll have to go behind the bar to make it work…”
Claire leaps up from her seat, curiosity winning out over anything else. Jo hasn’t even got to ask Amelia and Jimmy’s permission, their looks of gratitude are already enough. They start gathering their jackets as Jo leads Claire around, to the tantalizing world behind the bar.
“Cool,” Claire whispers. It’s the closest thing to slang she’s said all day.
Jo smiles despite herself, then readies to go through with her idea. She’s sharing the one thing of her father’s which is truly hers. If it were anyone but Claire, she wouldn’t be doing it, but something about Claire makes it feel different—makes sharing feel more like a gift which grows rather than diminishes.
“This,” Jo says, gently lifting the supple material from where it hangs dutifully on its hook, “is my daddy’s leather jacket.”
She takes a deep breath and kneels beside Claire, offering the leather up to her for her little hands to touch. Despite the warmth of the day, the leather is still cool, and Claire’s smile grows as she slides her chestnut-sized palms along the smooth material.
The leather is brown and worn, but still in pretty pristine condition for a jacket now going on thirty years old. Jo doubts Claire even notices the small set of hand stitches around the collar from when she stupidly tore it and needed to fix it up. It had taken her a whole afternoon tucked away in her bedroom to stitch it back together, but she’d played her dad’s vinyls the whole while and the time had spun away quickly. Even her mom was impressed by Jo’s handiwork, in the end. This jacket is the one thing of her dad that Ellen lets Jo keep, and Jo keeps it well.
Claire’s blue eyes are wide and wondrous in her head. “It’s very nice,” she says shyly.
Jo smiles. “I know. And it’s really special to me, because my daddy isn’t around any more, so we’re going to take good care of it together.”
“Why isn’t your daddy around?” Claire asks, her forehead wrinkling with the question. She’s a kid clearly trained in courtesy, but the constant frankness to her questions give her a harder edge. If the questions didn’t sting so much, Jo would love it about her. Claire continues, “my daddy loves me so much I think he’ll be around forever.”
“Well,” Jo says carefully, slowly, stringing her words along the tightrope of her taut throat. “Sometimes it’s not a choice. My daddy died nine years ago.” She swallows the ‘today’ she could add onto the end of that sentence, feeling that detail might be a little too much for both of them in this conversation. “Here’s something I find very important to remember: just because someone leaves, doesn’t mean they stop loving you. And it doesn’t mean you stop loving them.”
Claire looks as if she might start chuckling, but then catches onto the sincerity in Jo’s tone. Her mouth falls open slightly and her plump fingers squeeze tighter at the leather jacket. “I don’t want my daddy to leave me.”
“I bet he won’t,” Jo says, placing her hands over Claire’s. They’re so small beneath her own. Warm too, like holding a little heart between her hands.
Jo looks up at Claire, at her sandy blonde hair tied neatly into pigtails and the pretty orange gingham of her summer dress. Seven years old and so sure her daddy will never leave her. It is only the crystal blue of Claire’s irises that differ from the umber of her own, but even then, Jo supposes that they both have their father’s eyes.
“I think we’ve got the best daddys in the world,” Jo whispers. “They love us all the time. When they’re out at the shops, when they’re away with work, when they’re up in heaven. They love us right now.”
She swallows, hard, blinking away the tears that are refracting rainbows in her eyes. There’s a burning in her throat but she’s glad she managed to say those words, to finally get them out into the precious ears of a young girl. She smiles. Her vision is still slightly watery but clearing when she realizes Claire is giggling, a sweet blush on her cheeks. Her laughter is light and bubbly, like a stream tumbling over rocks in the sun. Like if Jo bathed in it, she would feel clean.
“Come on, we can use my daddy’s leather jacket as an umbrella to run out to the car,” she says, the idea finally coming to fruition as she stands back up again and dusts the Roadhouse floor muck from her knees. “I’ll hold it over your head so you don’t get wet.”
Claire rolls her eyes, something Jo wasn’t sure seven year olds knew enough to do, but apparently so. “But then you’re going to get wet!”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m big and strong! I can take some rain.” Jo makes a performance of flexing her arms, the odd proportions of her wide-muscled shoulders and lean frame suddenly a cause for celebration rather than insecurity when looked at through Claire’s eyes.
“Hmm.” Claire ponders hard at Jo’s words, those cogs visibly turning again in her brain. “Okay. But you’ll have to be fast to keep up with me!”
The kid makes a dash for the door and is surprisingly speedy on her little legs, her gingham dress swishing behind her. Jo starts after her, pitching both arms upwards so the jacket hangs from them like a tent over Claire’s head. They dash out the front door and into the delicious rain, giggling all the way until it turns into full belly laughter. The lights of the car flash when Jimmy unlocks it, and Claire kicks up water as she runs to fling open the backseat door. Jo’s jeans are splattered with it, but the rain is coming down in sheets so her whole body is soon soaked through anyway.
Another roar of thunder booms across the open space but Claire doesn’t even notice, too busy sheltering under Jo’s jacket as she scrambles up into the car. Jo slides the leather jacket on to free up her hands and help Claire wriggle into the backseat. The girl is a step ahead of her, and clicks her seatbelt into place with a smug little grin at Jo.
“See, I am faster than you!”
Jo laughs, feeling rainwater pool in the corners of her mouth as she does so. “Okay, you win. But I did help keep you safe from all the horrible rain and thunder.”
“Yes, you did,” Claire concedes graciously. She clearly has a self-righteous streak. Smiling, she opens her arms wide for Jo to hug her, but Jo backs away.
“I’m very wet still, I don’t want to make you damp after all this.”
“Oh, okay,” Claire says, looking crestfallen. “But I want to hug you anyway.”
Jo pauses. “You sure?”
“Of course!” Claire says, the words come on, silly, evident in her tone.
Jo grins, and wraps her drenched, leathery arms around Claire. Squeezes her tight. With her face buried in Claire’s hair, she inhales the strong and familiar scent of strawberry shampoo, the kind she used to use when she was small. She’s got a young girl’s warm body in her arms, and the scent of her dad’s leather and her childhood shampoo mix in the May evening air.
“I want to be just like you when I grow up,” Claire’s voice whispers in her ear.
Jo wants to sob, but doesn’t. She instead gives Claire one last, big, humongous squeeze and untangles herself, her arms leaving damp patches across Claire’s dress. Claire doesn’t seem to mind, she’s only seven.
“I was just like you when I was small,” Jo manages to reply. She doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing anymore, or if it’s just—as Claire said—a thing. Some small part of her feels like she’s damning Claire as she says this, to a life like her’s. But then again—maybe it’s just a thing, and her life is neutral. There does not have to be a curse to pass on. She smiles. “It’s been really nice to meet you, Claire.”
“And it was nice to meet you too, Jo!”
They do a final high-five (Claire’s hands only spanning Jo’s palm) before Jo steps back into the rain proper, closing the car door in front of her with a wet thunk.
The driver’s door opens and shuts beside her, Jimmy having climbed behind the wheel. Amelia’s footsteps splash around to the far side of the concrete and then the whole family is sheltered in the car, safely stowed together behind the windows.
In the low lighting of the Roadhouse sign, for a moment Jo looks into Claire’s window and only sees herself, rain pouring down her face and shoulders wide enough to fill her father’s jacket. Then the driver’s window rolls down and Jo steps to meet it.
“Thank you,” Jimmy says. He has dark hair and a face she will meet again. “You were very good with her. Your parents should be proud.”
Jo goes to shake her head but then allows herself the nod, to tentatively agree. Her wet hair is plastered to her scalp, but the rain isn’t cold; it’s just right.
“Have a safe journey,” she calls. Then repeats herself as the man revs the engine so Claire, winding the window down too, can still hear her. “Have a safe journey!”
To where, Jo realizes she isn’t quite sure.
Both her and Claire wave like wild things as the car turns back out onto the road, Jo chasing the car for a few meters, to Claire’s growing grin. As the car pulls away Claire’s blonde pigtails are the last thing Jo can make out of her.
She stands there, in the parking lot outside the Roadhouse where the dust is being beaten into the road by the summer rain. The taillights of the car rumble out of view and Jo still stands, waving, unsure if she’s just met the past or future, until her mother comes and beckons her inside.
#i started writing this yesterday and so it's slightly rough BUT i stand by it all !!#this concept is so precious to me. my author's notes on ao3 go into that with more detail#this most defintely exists in the same universe as jo daily btw <3 fun to write her a little younger than i have before!#and write jo interacting with children... my heart#anyway i hope you enjoy reading another roadhouse jo fic from your roadhouse jo girlie#jo harvelle#claire novak#jimmy novak#jo & claire#spn fic#spn women#josjoyousbday#ola writes
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DEMO (TBA) | Cast Profiles | Cast Interviews-Round 1 | Cast Interviews-Round 2 | The Muse: Spotify
The Muse is a 18+ slice of life interactive fiction novel set at NYU focusing mostly on the art departments in the Steinhardt and Tisch schools. Inspired by my love for shows and movies like Felicity, Fame (the show), Skins UK, and Center Stage. This will not be an accurate depiction of school life at NYU, I'll be taking lots of creative liberties.
Content Warnings: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence, mention of SA
You come from a family of artists and art lovers. Your mother is a passionate curator for a small gallery in the city and your father is a sculptor and painter with a very dedicated cult following. They met when they were just starting out and have built a lovely life for themselves and their two children, you and your older brother Cameron.
Your parents have always been super supportive of you and your brother’s dreams and ambitions. They were a great source of encouragement and guidance for your brother on his path to discovering his goal to become a game designer and you on your path to become whatever you choose.
Growing up surrounded by such creativity just so happened to inspired you to want to create something of your own.
Now that you’ve graduated high school it’s time for you to head off to university! You’ve decided to leave the mid sized city that you call your hometown, and go to the big city NYC! You’ll be attending NYU more specifically, but you won’t be making this move alone you’ll be attending with your best friend Maxine!
What will you discover in your university life?
Will you solely focus on schoolwork or wind up in the raging party scene?
Will you explore new creative endeavors or solely focus on honing your craft?
With so much going on will you even have the time to possibly find your muse, or maybe even become someone else’s?
Design your mc from clothing style to physical appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.
Choose 1 of 9 majors that grant you different classes with new students and professors: (Studio Arts, Dance, Drama, Photography and Imaging, Jazz Studies, Songwriting, Recorded Music, Collaborative Arts, Dramatic Writing )
Curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the drama and excitement university life has to offer. Style your MC’s dorm room and their aesthetic style.
Navigate the cliques and scenes to figure out where your MC fits in. Maybe you're a social butterfly and you just float from one social group to another!
Engage in a romance with 1 of 10 characters. 5 female/male gender selectable and 5 gender set characters. And 2 poly routes one with The Rebel Rejects and one with The Exes (Faye and Karla).
Choose one of three part time jobs to give you a little extra spending money for things like spring break and birthday gifts for your new friends.
Follow The Muse through your MC’s freshman and sophomore years. Junior and senior year will come much later in Book Two of The Muse. The third and final book in The Muse series will cover the start of MC's new life after graduation.
Roxanne/Robbie Sawyer: (f/m) The lead singer and guitarist of The Rebel Rejects. Ro is everything you would want in a lead singer cool, charismatic, and super talented. Don’t let their dazzling aura intimidate you though because though they may have a raging wild side they can also be extremely down to earth.
Joleen/Johnny Nielsen: (f/m) The drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo is the oddball of the band with a sunny exterior and twisted flower child past. They may be a sweet boho bimbo with a heart of gold, but there’s a lot more that lies behind those blue green eyes.
Delphine/Desmond Hartley: (f/m) The bassist for The Rebel Rejects. De is the super glue propelling the group forward. With high expectations from their parents, and dreams that soar even higher, success is the only option.
Rina/Ren Fukushi: (f/m) R is the best ballet dancer in this incoming freshman class, and no one would ever think to say otherwise. They’re cold and closed off, if it isn’t about ballet then they don’t want to hear it.
Everly/Everett Thompson: (f/m) Eve is a triple threat. Singing, dancing, acting they can do it all. They hope to complete their EGOT before they turn 40.
Karla Reyes: (she/her) Karla is a sophomore at NYU studying Studio Arts. Her favorite medium is watercolor on canvas. She dabbled with sculpting and ceramics...until she broke up with her ex, Faye, and can’t stand to be in the same studio with them.
Faye Winters: (she/they) Fae is every bit the ethereal being they seem to be, and just as flighty. She is a sophomore majoring in dance with a minor in studio arts. She has this effortless charm and beauty that extends to her art whether its her dancing or her sculptures.
Sebastien Auclair: (he/him) Sebastien is in his third year of university, he’s an exchange student from the Paris College of Art. He is studying photography and imaging. Sebastian loves Paris, but he is excited for this change of scenery.
Maxine Matthews: (she/her)Max is your best friend in the world! Your parents are friends so you were destined to best pals since birth, thank god you actually like each other or all those shared family functions would have been really awkward. Max is funny and always has great commentary for every show or movie that you watch together. Which is why you weren’t surprised when they decided to major in dramatic writing. Some people think that you’re too close. They wonder how is it possible that you could be just friends.
Silas Walker: (he/him) Silas is your RA. As your Resident Advisor he's super helpful and friendly. You have question about the best study spots, bad professors, how to use the subway, well he's got answers. He keeps all his advisees at arms length because everyone knows RAs can't canoodle with their advisees. And that just makes it all the more enticing.
#interactive fiction#dashingdon#twine if#twine interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive if#choice of games#choice script#choose your own adventure#choose your own story#twine game#twine story#if: intro#if: themuse#interact if#interact-if#if wip
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I saw someone ask for this, and I want it as-well so Im writing it
Finnick and reader (y/n) screwing in the arena as a “fuck you” to the capitol.
A final, fuck you
Annie doesn’t exist, quarter quel, no established relationships, just enemies to lovers, sexual tension and an axe to grind
Warnings: cursing, smut, angst, hunger games so yk, violence, mentions of prostitution, porn with a little plot, If you wanna skip there I’ll put a huge red heart right before ❤️❤️🔥🩷❣️
Backstory: reader is 23, district 4 won 70th games, family was killed,
“Look at you,” you turn around to see Finnick, and turn away covering your eyes. “You know there are children watching this Odair, wanna put some clothes on? Or leave anything to the imagination?” You say, “ouch, feisty.” He retorts, tossing a sugar cube up catching it between his teeth. “What are you? 12?” You say rolling my eyes at him. God he is such a peacock, and it pisses you off so much. He just thinks he is god’s gift to man. “12 inches deep in your mom.” He says playing into the character. You try my best not to laugh, and Finnick can tell, “you wanna laugh and you know it.” He says, a smirk on his face. “Funny, hilarious actually, it almost made me not want to kill myself.” You roll your eyes, regaining your composure. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we, who would be the pretty girl on my arm?” He says eyeing me up and down, “we are wearing the same thing (y/n). You have no leverage here.” He says. “Yes, it seems ive lost my clothes, usually its just you dressed like a whore, i mean if the shoe fits.” You fire back, now it was your turn to smirk, “what? Cat got your tung?” His face falls, he looks, angry? He pulls you in so no one else can hear him. “Look (y/n), you dont know shit.” He whispers harshly, his grip on your arm tightening, his nails digging into the skin, you like the feeling. “So i’ll give you a warning, shut the fuck up.” He finishes before pulling away, his facade back on. “After you m’lady,” he says, a fake smile that looks teasing now, as he holds out a hand to help you into the carriage.
After that interaction meals are quiet, you had quit trying to talk with him, focusing on the task ahead, getting out of that arena, one way or another.
“(Y/n)?” Your stylist, Ines says snapping you back to the present, “what?” You ask. “Never-mind,” she says, waving if off. You’re about to enter the tube that will take you to the arena. “30 seconds remaining.” The speaker says. I step into the tube. “Good luck,” Ines says. “20 seconds remaining.” “Thank you,” you reply, “10 seconds” the tube closes, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” You start to move up. Sun hits your face, as your eyes ajust to the light you look around. Water, you’re completely surrounded by water, well, you know who this arena favors. You get ready as the count down starts. “60 seconds” you look around, Beetee and Chaff are on either side of you. “50 seconds” you look at the cornucopia, you’re facing it’s mouth, there are throwing knives relatively close to you. “40 seconds” you look for Johanna, the two of you made an alliance, she is your best friend and if you’re dying you wanted it to be with her. “30 seconds” you spot her, she is already looking at you. “20 seconds,” you get ready to dive into the water. “10,” you’re shaking, “9” This is really happening, “8” fuck. “7” just get to the cornucopia, “6” Dive as far out as you can, “5” get onto the rocks, “4” run as fast as you can, “3” dont trip “2” you’re ready, “1” shit. The cannon booms, you dive in, you pull myself onto the rocks and start running, not looking anywhere but forward. You make it to the cornucopia and grab the knives and the belt. The first cannon goes off, you look for Jo, and spot her, you run towards her, “Fight them off, Ill get Beetee and Wirus!” She yells, you throw your knife, it finds it’s way into a tribute’s chest, cannon, you throw a few more. “LETS GO!” You shout to Jo, “ok come on follow me!” She starts down a strip of rock, you dive in swimming along side her. You all make it to the beach and run into the cover of the jungle.
“Ok wait stop.” You say after a few minutes of running, “lets stop here and talk strategy.” “Good idea,” says Jo. “I think we should play evasive until we have no choice.” Says Beetee. You all agree. After a minute or two of talking Blight talks, “ok, lets keep moving, we’ll walk as far into the jungle as we can.” He says, “alright, take the lead.” You say, motioning for him to start. Jo and you bring up the rear, half defending half talking and joking. “Would you two focu-” blight starts to say but he is cut off. “RAIN!” You scream, tilting your face to the sky, but something is off, Jo notices it aswell, you all exchange confused looks. “Oh shit.” You say with Jo. Suddenly the ‘rain’ turns into down pour, but its not rain, its blood. Thick hot blood. You can barley see in-front of of you. Jo grabs your hand “RUN!” blight screams, starting to run forward, you start to follow as best you can but he hits something. It throws him back. “WAIT WAIT! STOP!” Beetee screams, “its a force field, other way!” He screams, the cannon goes off. “Damn it!” Jo screams, you turn around. Stumbling blind, you trudge through the jungle, only knowing where the others are by hearing their voices. “THE BEACH! I SEE THE BEACH!” Jo screams, and you follow her voice.
You get to the beach around the same time as Jo. You hug each-other, a few seconds later Beetee emerges with Wirus. She is freaking out, you all are covered in blood. As Jo tries to coax Wirus out of the tree line you are checking the surroundings. “JOHANNA!” You hear, you turn drawing a knife, its just Finnick. But you dont put the knife back tho. “FINNICK!” She screams back. He starts running to her. Sometimes you can’t believe they are friends. As you look past, you see Katniss and Peeta, you clutch your knife tighter seeing she has her bow drawn. Johanna starts explaining the situation to Finnick, but Wirus starts getting on Jo’s nerves, who is already stressed out and pissed off. “Tik tok, tik tok,” she repeats over and over like a mad woman grabbing Jo. “OKAY OKAY!” Jo screams pushing her off. “Hey, HEY, LEAVE HER ALONE!” Katniss screams running up and pushing Jo, she draws an arrow. You look around, Peeta, perfect! You draw your dagger and before anyone can react you put him in a headlock, holding the dagger to his throat. “HEY!” You scream, Katniss turns, aiming her bow at you.“Let him go.” She comands, as if she has any authority in the situation. “Leave Jo the fuck alone, we just ran through fucking blood!” You yell back. She fires her arrow, but you dodge out of the way taking Peeta with you. “Shoot it again, I fucking dare you! This time, I’ll move lover boy right in the line of fire, try me!” You scream at her, pressing the knife harder into Peeta’s neck. He puts his hands up in surrender. “Woah woah, calm down.” Finnick says stepping in between the two of you. “Dont tell me to ‘calm down’! SHE HAS A KNIFE TO PEETA’S TROAT!” Katniss screams at Finnick, “How about we all put our weapons down,” Peeta says, pleading to Katniss. “Shut up.” You sneer, moving your knife to tilt his head up. “Ok look, Katniss, she just thought you were gonna hurt Jo, are you gonna hurt Jo?” Finnick asks Katniss, telling her the right answer, “No.” She says, arrow still in place. Finnick exhales, Katniss must realize your too good to be stubborn with. “See, now, (y/n) let Peeta go,” he says. “I’ll drop my dagger, but im not letting him go till she drops the bow.” You drop the knife. “Katniss, will you please drop your bow?” Finnick says, he knows, you’ll kill him, right here, right now, and that’s exactly what he needs to not happen. She drops her bow. “If you try anything I swear to god i’ll snap your fuckin neck.” You whisper in his ear, he nods. You let him go, with hands still in the air he walk to katniss. “Okay, good, we’re all stressed lets just cool off,” Finnick says walking to you. “Im fine,” you say grabbing your dagger. “No your not, your mad and you’re gonna do something stupid.” He says grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. “FINNICK! FINNICK WHAT THE FUCK! PUT ME DOWN- I SWEAR TO GOD ILL KILL YOU!” You scream squirming around. “Calm down” he says dunking you in the water a few times before straight up dropping you into it. You stand up, wiping the water from your eyes, still pissed off, just at him. He laughs, “god you know, you look so… cute when your mad.” He says, still laughing. “Oh fuck off Odair.” You say turning away from him. You wash the blood off as he turns and walks back to the beach. Jo joins you, washing the blood off her. Once you are both done yall go back to the beach, sitting together on the sand.
Some time passes, “Im gonna go get water.”you say getting up and walking into the jungle. Really you just wanna be alone for a little. It peaceful until you hear a scream, it’s Katniss’s name, but its not a tribute. “PRIM” you hear her scream in the distance, shit. You try and ignore it, not your circus, not your monkeys. You hear another scream. “FINNICK!” “FINNICK HELP ME!” What? But thats not possible, you’re not screaming. But its your voice. “(Y/N)” you hear him scream back. “DAMNIT ODAIR!” You scream to no one in particular, your circus, your monkeys. You run towards the screams but run, into a wall? But it’s clear, and it doesn’t throw you back like the force field did with Blight, you cant hear any screams anymore. “(Y/N)! Over here!” Jo beckons to you. You walk over to her. “What is this?” You quickly regret asking as Beetee starts going on about some science stuff. “Okay, okay.” Jo says cutting him off. You look to see Katniss on the ground covering he ears as birds swoop in. “Jabber-Jays, DAMNIT, I HATE SNOW! FUCK YOU, CANT YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY! HOW ABOUT YOU COME DOWN HERE AND WE CAN FIGHT YOU PUSSY!” You scream up at the sky, Jo is smiling, Wirus is mentally gone, Peeta is staring at you like you’ve lost your mind and Beete is just not saying anything. “Finnick flipped out when he heard your screams,” Jo says sitting beside you. Finnick is currently on the ground as well, but he looks up for a brief moment, long enough to see you, and you see some of the worry in his face leave, you look back at Jo but he stays staring at you. You look at Jo, a look of confusion on your face but you know exactly what’s going on because you’ve felt is aswell.
❤️
The hour is up, you run up to Finnick, holding his head, “shit, im so sorry” you say, he straightens hugging you back, it’s strong, and he smells like the ocean. Katniss is worried about her sister, “they aren’t gonna do anything to Prim.” Peeta says. “He’s right ya know, the whole country  loves your sister, if they ever did anything to her, forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn capitol. HEY HOW DOES THAT SOUND SNOW? WHAT IF WE, WHAT IF WE SET YOUR BACKYARD ON FIRE? YA KNOW YOU CANT PUT EVERYBODY IN HERE!” Jo screams, waving her axe around. Katniss and Peeta stare at her in absolute terror, its almost funny. “What? He can’t hurt me. There’s no one left that I love.” She says, “im gonna go get some water.” She leaves. “Lets go scout out the area Finnick,” you say. The two of you get up and walk away. You walk for a few minutes in silence before Finnick breaks it. “Im so fucking ma-” but you cut him off, backing against a tree and pulling him with you into a kiss. Its rough and passionate but hungry. “Fuck,” you pant out. “God you’re hot,” he says kissing down your neck. “Wait, what about the Capitol?” You say before he draws a whine from you, sucking on a sweet spot. “Fuck them, now they’ll know how I really feel.” His voice is low and raspy, his eyes filled with lust. You pull his zipper to the wetsuit down revealing his abs and arms and fuck, he might be god’s gift to you. “Is this really, the best, place?” You say in between pants and moans as he peels the wetsuit off your body, grabbing your breasts and massaging them, making you push back into the tree throwing your head back in pleasure. “I dont want to die never having done this with you sweetheart.” He growls into the crest of your neck. “Mhm oh god, me neither.” You say as you feel his bulge against your stomach. On instinct you start to grind on it. “Fuck thats it.” He says, groaning as he throws his head back in pleasure, “please,” you whine, he brings the rest of your wetsuit down and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You shimmy his suit down the rest of the way, pulling him out. He groans at the contact, “Fuck, you’ve hardly touched me and look at how worked up I am,” he says, lining up with you. “Oh darling, you’re so fuckin wet for me” he coos, running his tip along my slit eliciting a whimper from you as you grab his hair. He pushes into you with a groan. “You feel so good (Y/n)” he says, moaning your name. It sounds so right coming from his mouth. You clench around him and he lets out a loud groan, his nails digging into your arm, you like it, so much more this time. “Fuck, Finn,” you whine out. “Yea good girl, say my name, tell them all who’s making you feel so good, im making you mine (y/n)” he groans, thrusting into you faster and your moaning and whimpering around him, he feels so good, so so good, “so so so good, finn, mhm dont stop.” You whine out, yanking his hair harder, closing your eyes. “Open those pretty eyes for me,” you whine in protest, “now or I stop.” He forces your eyes open, looking into his as he fucks you harder, hitting all the right spots, getting all the best noises. You can feel how close you are, and so can he. “Finnickk.” You whine out, “I know, me too,” he grunts out, moving his hand to rub your aching clit, “yes, right there, please oh god oh god FIN!” You cry out as you cum for him, “fuck sweetheart you sound so pretty, you feel so good.” You whine and your hips buck up trying to get away from the overstimulation, “Finnickkk, please I can’t,” you whimper out, still shaking from your first orgasm, “Im close sweetheart.” He says his pace picking up, his fingers still working your clit. He hits the spot deep in you that has you seeing stars. You moan his name, as a second orgasm hits you, “Oh god Finnick, finnick,” you moan his name like a chant it feels so good, “Im gonna cum (y/n)” he grunts out, his thrusts getting sloppy before he cums inside of you, moaning your name and burying his face in your neck as he thrusts in a few more times. “God, you did so so good sweetheart” he pants out.
You both regain your dignity before turning to face up and flipping off the world. A final fuck you to the capitol.
The end, hope you liked it ❤️
Funny story, as I was writing the smut while my playlist was on shuffle, Ronan by Taylor Swift started playing, so I had to take a break and cry. 😃 so if the smut sucks thats why, it killed my mood. Then my cat came in and needed my attention.
#fanfic#hunger games#reader insert#the hunger games#finnick odair smut#finnick imagine#romance#my fic
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Epilogue- Broken Vows
Part One Part Two Part Three
Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader
Rating: M (Mature) As always, minors please do not interact!
Warnings: Allusions to sex, discussions of pregnancy and childbirth, other than that it’s pure fluff!
Word count: About 950 (it’s a lil one!)
Synopsis: After years of desperately fighting your way towards one another, you and Aemond are finally living your happily ever after.
Author’s note: This story is half of my heart and I cannot get it out of my head. I hope y’all enjoy this epilogue as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you have any thoughts or questions about this series my askbox is open!!
Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!
Aemond Masterlist
You gasped in joy as your newborn child was placed on your chest.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you took in his little face.
He was an exact replica of his father. You grinned.
You supposed it was only fair, despite all your children inheriting their father’s white hair, most of them took more after you than him. Other than your second daughter who was the female version of her father, temper included.
Aemond pressed a kiss to your temple as he stroked the baby’s cheek.
“He is perfect,” you whispered in awe.
“He is,” your husband agreed.
You kissed your newborn baby gently on the forehead.
“You did wonderful, dear heart,” Aemond said, love evident in his voice as he kissed you and then your son on the cheek.
“Thank you, my love,” you said as you turned your face to look at him fully.
He kissed you, deeply and full of appreciation and care.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, dear heart,” he said as he nudged his nose against yours and caressed the top of his child’s head.
“Aemond! I am covered in sweat and blood. I am disgusting,” you protested.
He rolled his eye at you.
“Is she not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?” Aemond said as he turned to the maester who had just finished cleaning you up and was now tidying up the mess from the birth.
“Of course, my prince,” he said.
Aemond smiled triumphantly and you rolled your eyes but smiled back at him.
“The only time you have looked this beautiful is when you gave birth to our other children. Mm, and perhaps our wedding day as well,” he teased, his voice deeper as he pressed his lips to yours once again.
“You look so beautiful I could fill you with another,” he murmured.
“My prince! You cannot! The princess needs rest!” the maester exclaimed in concern for your well-being.
You giggled.
“Do not worry, maester. The prince and I have been through this many times before. He knows he has to wait,” you said dismissively and Aemond chuckled.
“And besides, he knows this was the last child,” you said firmly as you looked back at your husband.
He smirked.
“Are you certain about that, my love? Look at the perfect babe you just bore,” he said, temptation in his voice.
“Six. I have borne six children, five of them yours, Aemond. I am weary and too old to do this again,” you said.
“All of them mine,” he whispered against your skin, quiet enough that the maester could not hear, as ran his nose across your cheek and pressed a kiss to your skin once again.
You shivered in response.
“What say you, maester? Is my wife too old to bear another child?”
Concern filled the maester’s eyes as he looked between you and your husband. He was a relatively new maester and it was clear he was intimidated by Aemond and wished to protect his patient.
“I am asking for your professional opinion. Do not worry for her, I love her and will put her safety above all else,” Aemond reassured at the nervous look in the Maester’s eyes.
“This labor was more strenuous for her and the child, my prince. I would not recommend she try again,” he said carefully.
You smirked triumphantly. Not that the opinion of the master really mattered, Aemond would heed your wishes, but it did help to have proof of your conviction.
Aemond’s desire to fill you with his seed and see you pregnant with his child had not lessened throughout your marriage, despite the fact that you had now borne him five wonderful children since you were wed. Four gorgeous daughters and finally today a second son.
Many people made comments to him about his lack of an heir, but he brushed them off and never once cared.
You both knew the truth. Your first son was born of him and Aemond cherished all his children equally, no matter their gender or legitimacy.
“Alright, beautiful wife, this is the last one,” he said gently as he took your son from your arms and cradled him.
The maester quietly gathered his things and left.
Aemond kissed you tenderly and as you melted into his kiss, you were sorely tempted to take back your conviction that this is the last child for the two of you.
As he pulled back from the kiss, he smirked at the look in your eyes. Decades of loving one another had left him with a strong ability to read you. He knew of the thoughts and desires that flitted through your mind.
But now that your safety was at question, he would never allow you to be put at risk.
“The last one,” you agreed.
The sight of your husband as he held your newborn baby was your favorite sight in the world, rivaled only by the sight of him as he held and cared for your other children.
He murmured gentle words to his son and you smiled sleepily.
“The children will want to meet him,” you said with a yawn.
“The children can wait, you need rest,” he said softly.
You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed.
“I love you,” you murmured.
“I love you more than I have words to express, dear heart,” he said and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
You quickly submitted to sleep with your child safely in your husband’s care.
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond targaryen x wife!reader#aemond targaryen x female!reader#aemond#broken vows
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So I have a few weeks until my new job starts and I want to work on something in that time. I'm not sure what I feel like writing (I'm kinda in hibernation bc it's winter rn and the last time I felt motivated to write was on-the-job in summer). I have dozens of wips and outlines to choose from but these ones are top of the pile bc they're fun..
[1] Nursery AU: Paradise Nursery
Dean is grieving his recently deceased mother. He's in his early 30s and was her carer for the better part of a decade; he has no friends and no life to turn to for comfort or distraction. He needs a new job and to learn to navigate his loneliness. He ends up working at the garden nursery where his mom worked decades ago. Dean meets Cas and falls for him but also makes new friends in Charlie and Jo and Bobby and others.
Cas is the newly appointed manager of Paradise Nursery™ and he's not enjoying it; he misses the small minutia of everyday plantcare and loathes the pressure, office-based and people-interactive duties, and trying to find a buyer for the business his father left him in charge of. Cas is a single parent to Jack and guardian to Claire and gave up on finding love long ago, instead focusing on his children and the work he's passionate about. But then he meets their newest seasonal hire Dean who becomes a bright spot in Cas' workday.
As they become tentative friends and try to suss out whether their feelings are mutual and how to go about them, Dean is dealing with his problematic father while Cas is dealing with his arch nemesis - fresh-cut flower farm owner Crowley - who wants to purchase Paradise to eliminate Cas as a competitor while expanding his own empire.
Boss/Employee. Mutual Pining. Alternating POV. Misunderstandings. Familiar Faces and Friendship. Slow Burn (legit). Strangers to Friends to Lovers.
A/N: this one is close to my heart as it's inspired by my own experiences; every day I worked I was inspired to write something for these two. Still not sure whether to keep this one contained at the nursery or follow Dean as the season dies off and he finds work elsewhere? Endings are hard and I'm still living mine, so.
[2] Dan In Real Life AU: Here Comes The Sun
Based on the movie but with its own flavour. Dean is a late-30s widowed songwriter and single father to young Audrey. The whole extended family is spending two weeks at Grandma Mildred's lake house for some quality time together before Autumn settles in. On his solo drive to the house, Dean meets Cas. There's chemistry and Dean thinks maybe there's something between them.. but he arrives at the house to discover Cas is dating his oldest friend Benny. Things are rocky at first but during their time together Dean and Cas grow closer until they can't deny their feelings any longer.
This one has intial Cas/Benny with some open relationship vibes but also cheating. Still trying to decide whether to write some explicit Cas/Benny scenes. The plot is heavily inspired by the movie but goes its own way. The whole two weeks will be covered day and night with alternating POV but mostly Dean and Cas.
RomCom with Family Dynamics. Lots of Familiar Faces. Papa!Dean. Alternating POV. Mutual Pining. UST. Strangers to Lovers. Happy Ending (for everyone, I promise).
A/N: I started writing this in.. 2020? It was my comfort fic but life changed so much that year I just couldn't stick with it. I've tried going back to it multiple times but kept getting caught up on how to finish the next chapter. I've done a bunch of art for this and would love to get it finished, but there's a lot of plot to still figure out (sometimes filler stuff, sometimes main events of the day).
[3] Movie AUs: numerous!
I love subpar action comedies (and romcoms) because they're such easy fic fodder for Destiel. Simple, readymade, perfect practice for writers to work on our skills but don't have the time or brain capacity to work on plot.
I have outlines of a few I really want to Destielify: The Lost City (a fun little adventure with unique plot I'd love to give our guys), Knight and Day (made before algorithms it's overlong and full of secondary locations - better off as fic), Red Notice (terrible twists but it had some fun ideas so I'd tweak the plot in various ways), Ghosted (subpar with bare bones I'd like to put a bit of meat on), Quantum of Solace (the most straight-forward Bond flick, a filler in the franchise and easiest to create a standalone au with).
A/N: if you haven't checked out SPNMediaBigBang go do that now. I'm terrible at bangs but I'd love to write a few fun movie fics and post chapters every week.
[4] Gotham Knights AU: make it Destiel
(GK being cancelled is another blow for queer rep and spncast stans but I hope it motivates fans to create more fic for this awesome show!)
The AU I've been working on is 'inspired by' not straight copy. It features batman-inspired Dean and harvey dent-inspired Cas with turner-inspired Jack.
Cas goes from being Jack's uncle to his guardian after his father was killed by the city's vigilante saviour The Hunter - who Jack once idolised but now thinks is a villain; naive Jack is out for revenge, to reveal The Hunter as a badguy and see him taken down. And he's not the only one looking for The Hunter's true identity. Meanwhile, friends and longtime mutual piners Dean and Cas finally act on their feelings for each other - but then shit goes down.
Friends to Lovers. Guardian/Single Dad Cas. Vigilante Dean. Heroes & Villains. Mutual Pining.
A/N: I started drafting the outline for this halfway through s1 of GK. It utilizes the darker vibes we get from Jack in season 14, which I love. And no, it's not related to my Destiel AU gifset series, sorry!
⮑ with all that in mind..
#my destiel prompt blog + ao3 is @theheartchoice btw 💕#destiel#fanfiction#thoughts#myedits#spn polls#deancas#wips#(no one look at my Crazyhead or Fly By Night wips. im just not feeling them atm bc they're young deancas..#plus i haven't posted in almost a year so i wanna work on sm i can fully flesh out#and these fics are the easiest to work on bc i have the plots and inspo at the ready..)
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Knowing you was a choice
Pairing: Raven Scientist (Victoria Van Gale/The Raven Leader)
Summary: Mere days after they met for the first time, Victoria pays the Raven Leader a visit and makes her a proposition (which has nothing at all to do with how her heart flutters around her, of course)Notes:
Notes: I was ready to write Victoria as being kinda cold and super awkwards around children, but then I rewatched The Storm and The Windmill and like. This woman wants to be a mum. She’s so good with kids. It’s not even Kaisa’s “I get a lot better with children because I am kinda like them”, Victoria is just straight up great with them (except with like. Weather spirit children ig lol). Anyway I just know that as someone who works with kids the raven Leader would be impressed by that, so thank you, canon, for helping me here
Also, yes. In my head Victoria is a Carlos from wtnv sort of person who just walks around with her lab coat for no apparent reason. You can’t take this away from me
Read it on ao3 or read the first instalment in this verse
As the Raven Leader, Birgitta had to always be ready for the most unexpected things one could possibly imagine. To swiftly get her children away from danger. To counteract the effect of a poisonous plant when one of them ate one as a dare. To properly chasten bullies who thought that there was any space for mistreating others in the Sparrow Scouts. To call the poor single mother of one of their newest scouts and say ma’am, I’m sorry, but I think your daughter is messing with forces unknown again. You name it.
She had not, however, been prepared to step outside of her office and find the woman she’d met at the hardware store staring intently at the map of the Sparrow Scouts grounds.
She was standing in front of it, her long hair falling like a mantle across her back, and her usual tight as a rod posture forgone so she could lean her torso towards the map. Gone were the casual clothes in which Birgitta had met her, replaced by dark blue overalls and a labcoat.
It was clearly a ploy. Nobody would find a map with a couple of buildings and colourful dots that symbolised camping grounds interesting enough to be looked at for more than ten seconds, and her contemplative look marked the lines of her face too sharply for it to be genuine. She wanted to be caught like this, but Birgitta was not about to point that out, much less complain. It would be a lie to say that her mind hadn’t been replaying their interactions whenever it was even slightly idle ever since their meeting.
“Oh, Birgitta, how lovely to see you here!”
The exclamation made her have to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. She knew perfectly well that Victoria had allowed her to be in her field of vision for a couple of moments and only addressed her when she was close enough that, in her mind, it wouldn’t seem like she had been expecting her. It didn’t work.
Yes, Van Gale, how lovely, she thought, how lovely that you would find me in my workplace. During working hours. Directly outside my office.
What a dork.
“Ditto!” She said instead. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, you know-” Victoria flicked her wrist with feigned nonchalance, making Birgitta want to burst out laughing again. She wondered if the scientist had any idea of the meaning that kids gave to that gesture these days. “Just wanted to revisit some memories from my time as a Scout. I haven’t been here since I… left. I see a lot has changed. The grounds are a lot bigger than I remember.”
At the mention of her pet project, Birgitta beamed.
“Not to toot my own horn, but most of the expansions were done after I became Raven Leader.”
Victoria gave her a lopsided smile and an impressed look that said ‘go ahead, I’m listening’. It was one of the things that had drawn Birgitta to her when they first met. The woman no doubt had a vast amount of knowledge and experience with the most diverse things, but instead of treating her like she was anything less for not having a fancy job or a privileged education, she seemed truly fascinated to hear what she had to say. It was endearing, to say the least.
She invited Victoria for a walk, and after the woman accepted, she began telling the tale about how she had been promoted from being one of the event organisers to Raven Leader much younger than most Leaders before her. How she had seen the potential for their organisation to do and teach much more than they had been able to at that time. How she convinced the board to let her organise a fundraiser to buy a larger piece of land for the Scouts, and her research to find the cheapest one that still offered as much safety to the children as possible. In the end, she’d come across the perfect slot, far enough away from the town that it could easily be considered the wilderness but close enough that weekend trips there weren’t hard to convince parents to allow. She had gotten a special price since there were rumours of that land being ‘haunted by nightmare spirits’, but she had known how much people loved to exaggerate their ghost stories. Still, the fundraiser hadn’t been successful enough to buy it (baked goods only allowed you to save so much money), so Birgitta had put her own life savings into the purchase, trusting her instincts that with more space, the Sparrow Scouts would flourish even more. It had undoubtedly paid off, not to mention that Birgitta herself was named as one of the owners to the land, side by side with the organisation she led.
Victoria took in her story as they walked side by side, first through the corridors of the main hall, its walls covered in pictures and portraits and trophies from local competitions which they encouraged their scouts to take part in, and then through the outdoor areas, which were prepared to accommodate a variety of activities. Birgitta had nothing if not a steel determination, and anyone who heard her tales from working at the Scouts would have picked that up. It was the trait that Victoria admired the most in any person. Even though her brand of ambition was much different to Victoria’s, more warm and thoughtful where hers was cold and borderline machiavellian at times, it made her admire her instantly.
This cloud of admiration, however, was not sufficient to make her mind hazy enough not to pick up on information that could be useful to her.
Magic was something that liked to huddle together in odd places. Spots that were haunted by one type of spirit usually hosted many more of them, which you could find if you knew how to look. And legends were always based on some sort of truth.
Those were things that had been clear to her even as a young scientist who thought logic should always prevail over the mystical, and the years had only confirmed her suspicions that the line between those two wasn’t as solid as most people believed.
She stored those thoughts away for another moment. Right now, just smelling the flowers was enough. Literally, that was, because the Raven Leader had led them to an area with flower beds.
“We used to send our scouts to earn their Friend of the Park badges in actual parks, bringing life back to some area that needed it.” She explained as they walked by a bed of violets. “But last time we did so one of the groups had a bit of a… Vittra problem, let’s say. So we decided to move that activity inside our property to avoid displeasing any more nature spirits. I honestly didn’t expect for it to work so well, but for some months now it seems like everything we plant flourishes. It’s amazing.”
Victoria had to bite her tongue. She wanted to brag, to say that of course nature was blooming, ever since she’d managed to manipulate smaller weather events she’d made sure Trolberg’s crops could thrive under the most favourable weather conditions. Most people were attributing her work to that year’s grandiose appearance of the Great Raven, but she was content knowing that the credit was, in fact, hers. Nothing wrong with taking yourself for something of a messenger of the gods, she thought. To Birgitta, though, she <em>wanted</em> to reveal how it was all her master plan, and hopefully get some points with her in the process.
Not yet, though. There were things that were still missing.
“I forgot to ask, how is your arm?”
Snapped out of her musings, Victoria needed a moment to remember what she was referring to. The same moment that she remembered, she began noticing the pain again.
“Oh, I think I’ll live, don’t worry.” She grimaced, happy when Birgitta chuckled instead of looking down at her for her weakness. It probably would have been more dignified to pretend she wasn’t feeling anything at all, but something told her that Birgitta would see right through her.
“I’m sorry I let you carry all that.” The Raven Leader apologised, beckoning her to walk further away from the building in which she did all her paperwork and held ceremonies for the Scouts, as if she hadn’t been carrying much more than the other woman. “Sorry if this comes across as intrusive, but have you ever tried yoga? It’s a nice way to build strength and take care of your joints. Plus, you look like one of those people who can’t turn their thoughts off. It would do you good, I promise it’s lovely.”
Refraining herself from saying that she wouldn’t be caught dead doing yoga, Victoria let out a hum that she hoped would come across as thoughtful. “Well, do you have any instructor to recommend to me?”
“Every day there’s a collective session at Vine Park at five in the afternoon, whenever I go it’s a good time.” She stopped walking and turned to her with a smile. “We could go together, one day.”
The huff of laughter that came out of Victoria’s lips could mean anything from joy at Birgitta wanting to do something with her to indignation at the mere suggestion.
“Haven’t you seen me embarrassing myself enough, Birgitta?”
She chuckled again, and kept walking through the grass paths, trusting that Victoria would follow her.
“I haven’t seen you embarrass yourself at all. All I saw was you being courteous.”
It would have been very useful, in that moment, if it were possible for someone to high five themselves. That not being the case, however, Victoria was limited to simply looking pleased with her apparently successful plan. Though Birgitta noticed the way she stood up straighter, she didn’t comment on it, and kept on guiding her to the place she wanted her to see the most.
The instruments were placed on a metal table. There were currently no children around it, but every morning a group of Sparrow Scouts was invited to write down their measurements and share them with the rest of their peers, so they could guess how the day would go. Not that it worked with scientific precision, but it was a nice way to make them earn their weather watching badges.
Once they were close enough to the Sparrow Scouts’ makeshift weather station and the shapes of the homemade machines were recognizable, Victoria looked at her with a question mark clearly stamped on her eyes. With a proud smirk, Birgitta gestured for her to go ahead, making Victoria trot the last few metres that separated them from the table.
Upon it were instruments she recognized like old friends, but much less complex than she ever remembered seeing them as. A barometer made with a coffee can, an anemometer of paper cups, a sling psychrometer built from a bottle, a wind vane with a paper plate as the compass and rain gauge that was basically an empty olive jar.
“Birgitta, these are amazing!” They weren’t exactly accurate, but just the fact that they existed filled Victoria with barely contained energy. “Did your kids make these?”
“They did!” She walked to her side, closely observing Van Gale as she filled her eyes with the instruments. “We recently introduced a weather watching badge. Building these is the first part of getting it. The scouts that are aiming to get it also have to take turns to get their measurements for a couple of weeks.”
“How many of them are trying it?”
“Oh, I’d say around fifteen scouts. I think all of the more quiet kids chose this activity.”
“Do you think they’d like to visit the bureau?”
The words had been out of Victoria’s mouth before her brain could process or filter them. Logically, it was a terrible idea. A bunch of kids snooping around a lap where she did her most important and secretive research could not go well, especially not with the containment station being built. But even after she had said it, she couldn’t find it in herself to want to take it back. She loved what she did, and one of her life’s most painful failings was never having had someone to share her passion with. The idea of a group of kids, filled with curious energy as children always were, being willing to learn more about the science of meteorology, and maybe even being inspired by a visit to an actual station, was far too exciting for her to regret.
Birgitta blinked. Funnily enough, she hadn’t seemed to have been expecting that. Which was sweet, Victoria thought, because it meant she had just wanted to show her their instruments to let her know her line of work was valued by her and her scouts, instead of trying to get something out of her.
“Well, I think they’d love that.” She said at last. “But wouldn’t it be too much trouble for you?”
“Nonsense! It has been far too long since I’ve had visitors. I would love to have you and your young aspiring scientists in my lab.”
Since she sounded and looked like she truly meant it, Birgitta smiled.
“In which case, I should probably get your phone. Let’s get back to my office so I can write it down.”
She would have added that it was only for arrangement making purposes that she wanted to get her number, but she’d never been a good liar. Birgitta had simply seen the opportunity and taken it.
As they walked away, she noticed how Victoria kept on gazing happily at the homemade instruments, and smiled. She often felt that this world lacked passion. It had transformed most people into thoughtless machines who just went about their routines without ever being able to dream of more. Not Victoria, though. This woman was brimming with it, and Birgitta hoped nothing was ever able to take it away from her.
“What drew you to science?” She asked, unable to contain herself. At that point, Victoria already knew all about what had made her come to the Sparrow Scouts, and why she didn’t want to leave any time soon, but she still knew very little about the weather woman. Seeming surprised to have been asked that question, her face became wistful as she thought of an answer.
“I think wisdom lies in not denying things simply because you can’t understand them.” She began. “But there’s a beauty in logic, and in the power that it gives to humans, and that has always fascinated me. How we’re able to tame and control even that which is so much bigger and stronger than us through understanding it. I fall in love with it a bit more every time I think about this.”
Leaves crunched under their shoes as they walked, and butterflies fluttered by. It wasn’t the answer Birgitta had been expecting. Something like “career day at school opened my eyes” or “I found an interesting book in the library” were more the line that most people followed. That wasn’t to say that the explanation she got wasn’t much more interesting, though.
“Well, I don’t know.” Her voice was thoughtful, not judgemental. She made sure of it. “I think there’s a lot of beauty in what we can’t control. Whenever it storms I can't help but think how gorgeous it is, that nature is so much more powerful than us and constantly reminding us of that. Makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger.”
Victoria remained in contemplative silence, fidgeting with the hem of her lab coat. She made an interesting figure, a serious academic in her research clothes strolling around on the grounds of a children’s scouts unit. Figuring she had nothing to lose, Birgitta continued.
“Take the heart, too. Where would the fun be if we could actually take its reins and place our feelings where we want them? The unexpectedness is one of the most exciting parts of the journey, don’t you think?”
Unbeknown to the Raven Leader, Victoria’s own heart did a somersault in her thorax. Maybe, just maybe, she could see the credit in that philosophy.
………
On the day they had chosen for the Sparrows Scouts visit to Trolberg’s Meteorological Bureau, the sun rose early and brightly. Victoria, for once, woke up before her alarm even rang - or rather, before it splashed water all over her - filled with excited energy that made it impossible for her to linger in bed.
It had been ages since she’d had people there. Ever since she’d begun tinkering with weather manipulation, visitations had been closed and she’d always make up an excuse or another when people asked her to go in (“Sorry, miss Hallgrim, a class full of children near my delicate equipments isn’t something I can allow” and “Forgive me, deputy, but the Town Hall has declared that my research wouldn’t need to be supervised by the Patrol. Will we need to take this to the mayor?” had both become her classics). It was only now, on the verge of opening her doors again, that she had realised how much she’d missed it. The presence of other people in her lab, the opportunity to share a bit about what made her get up every morning, the faces people made when they realised that something they had thought was boring could be cool, actually.
She missed being listened to.
There was a large cardboard box on the entrance corridor, and as soon as she’d set the coffee machine on, she put it on a taller cupboard and out of a small person’s reach. In the past, when school buses would frequently park by the foothill and release dozens of children into the station, she’d had a small gift shop with trinkets for them to take home if they wanted to. This time, she had ordered the same gifts she used to, but she knew damn well she wouldn’t charge for them. She wanted Birgitta’s kids to have something to remember that afternoon by.
She spent the morning in a lovely mood, making sure to check all of her machines and to lock everything that shouldn’t be seen by anyone but her out in the garage. She used very little equipment nowadays, since most of her predictions came from the weather she conjured up herself, but she’d be damned if those kids didn’t leave there feeling like they knew exactly how each of a meteorologist’s tools worked.
When the time they had agreed on came, Victoria was waiting for them on the other side of the cable car. She had asked Birgitta to advise the children to bring coats, since no matter the weather in town, the Bureau was high enough in the hill it sat on that its surroundings were always snowy, and visitors tended to get chilly halfway through the climb in the cable car. It wasn’t something she even noticed anymore; after she had started wearing her thermal jumpsuit, the only moments she paid any attention to temperature were when she was studying it, but she didn’t want her guests to feel any discomfort. Sure enough, the kids that were coming out of the bus which had just parked near her were all leaving with warm pieces of clothing in their hands, if not already on their bodies.
With each child that left the bus, Victoria tried to look more welcoming. She wasn’t exactly used to children, but she did really like them. Children were curious, and didn’t allow people’s opinions stop them from doing what they enjoyed, and those were things she held the highest respect for. It felt important to cause a good impression and to leave a positive mark on them. Maybe she could be a positive memory in their lives, maybe even push them towards an interest in the sciences, and it all depended on how she carried herself.
The fact that Birgitta cared about the opinion of those children in particular didn’t hurt either, of course.
“Welcome, everyone!” She exclaimed once the last child climbed down, noticing how they stared in awe first at her, and then at the Bureau, which was for the moment being only a blur in the distance. “I’m so glad to have you all here. I heard you lot took an interest in meteorology, is that right?”
Birgitta climbed out of the bus just as the children were making a chorus of affirmation.
“Victoria!” The children stepped out of the way so that their leader could walk towards their host. “Thank you so much for having us here. The children were so excited that some of the scouts that hadn’t even been working on the badge wanted to come. I thought it might be better to leave it for a later date, though.”
“Nonsense, the pleasure is all mine!” Victoria kept her eyes firmly on the other woman as she walked closer, reigning her surprise in when she hugged her in greeting. She hoped her cheeks weren’t pink enough that it couldn’t be attributed to the cool air. “But yes, probably better to bring more children when we have more time to organise this. We’ll already have to split up to get them all there as it is.”
She gestured towards the cable car with her head, and Birgitta’s mouth parted in surprise. When she’d been warned that that was the only way up to where Victoria lived, she hadn’t imagined the ravine that separated the hill they were in from the mountain which held the lab at its peak.
“Okay. How do you suggest we do this?”
The cable car could safely hold about five people, so Victoria’s suggestion was four rides to get them all up. On the first ride, the Raven Leader came along, leaving the bus driver to watch over the rest of the children, and stayed waiting with them on top of the mountain, just outside the Bureau. Victoria remained in the car during all the rides, in order to be an adult presence on them and so she could already begin introducing the kids to her work. Once the last batch had been safely dropped off at the top, Victoria climbed down with them and took the lead of the group, guiding them to the front door.
“Welcome all!” She exclaimed, her voice filling the room as the children behind her began to poke their heads inside and gasp. “To the Greater Trolberg Meteorological Bureau!”
She’d had her forecasts for the day previously recorded and had scheduled them to be aired at the right times, so that upon her guests’ arrival she could give them her full attention, and that was what she did. Even though there were clearly a few kids in the bunch that didn’t really care about being there and probably had only been working on the badge because they thought it would be an easy one, the excitement and curiosity of most of them more than made up for it. Even the more quiet kids, who seemed to be of the ‘likes to sit quietly and read in the back of the classroom’ sort grew comfortable enough to interact with her through the course of the visit.
And then there was Birgitta. The woman tended to stay behind the group so she could watch over all of them, but Victoria was proud to realise she seemed to be enjoying her monologues as well. With each instrument whose utility she explained, Birgitta seemed to join in on the children’s interest in them. She made a mental note to ask her later about which part had been her favourite. Judging by her face though, Victoria guessed it would be the history of Meteorology, which she had introduced them to as soon as they were all safely inside the lab.
Truth be told, the Raven Leader was impressed with Victoria’s effortlessly articulate speech. Since she had asked her to talk about herself every time they had been together so far, Birgitta had assumed she simply didn’t like to talk all that much, but it seemed like she’d been completely wrong. Whether it was because she had home field advantage, or because of knowing an absurd lot about that topic, or simply because she had a gift, she didn’t know, but she for one couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scientist as she went on about her work, and it seemed like most of the children couldn’t either.
Their questions were another thing she handled beautifully. Birgitta had experience with taking her kids to meet professionals, since she thought it gave them good resources to make a well informed choice when they grew up and had to choose their careers. Many of said experts seemed to have no idea of who their target audience was, and only left the kids with even more doubts. Victoria, on the other hand, was well aware that she was talking to children, and took that into consideration without ever acting condescendingly. Birgitta had always thought that being able to explain something to someone who knew nothing about the subject was the true sign that you had a good grasp of it, and she stood corrected.
The last thing she had shown them had been the recording booth, and after that, they were heading towards the exit again. Victoria was just wondering if it would be selfish of her to offer them coffee just so she could stay near Birgitta for a while longer, and if she even could offer caffeine to children that young - she’d started at five years old herself, but on hindsight that maybe was why she’d turned out like that - when one of the kids sighed.
“Finally.” Either he thought he was whispering and had poor control over his voice, or he simply didn’t care about people overhearing. “That was boring.”
Everyone turned to him with a chastening glare, and the Raven Leader called his name warningly. He was one of the kids that had spent the entire visit with his arms crossed, either talking to his friends or looking around with annoyance. Another kid by his side, one who had spent their time there similarly, looked like they wanted to agree, but thought better of it when they noticed the stare everyone was giving him.
Birgitta had already begun telling him how that was impolite and inappropriate behaviour, and Victoria had to give it to her, those kids must really respect her if even the more difficult ones looked regretful to have been scolded. Without needing to raise her voice or be anything other than kindly stern, she’d managed to get him to blush and look down at his feet. It was when she was about to tell him to apologise that Victoria put a thankful hand on her shoulder. She stopped talking and looked at the scientist, who gave her a lopsided smile.
“That’s okay.” She assured, turning to the kids. “I know meteorology isn’t for everyone. Nothing ever is! Maybe our young friend will find an interest in some other science, or in something outside of it! I’ll agree with your Leader that you probably shouldn’t go around saying that the things people love are boring when they can hear you, but I’m grateful that you took the time to be here and hear what I had to say anyway. At least now you know your passions lie elsewhere! Isn’t that right?”
The children agreed, especially those that had been the most interested, nodding enthusiastically. Gosh, Victoria thought, talking to children is so much better than to adults.
“I do have something that I think you’ll all find interesting!” She declared, walking towards the shelf where she’d left the box with gifts, missing how Birgitta was still looking at her with a baffled expression as she did so. Even though she had had her ego hurt a little by how she hadn't been able to capture some of those kids’ attention, the collective cheer when she presented them with a roll of stickers was the most validation she’d gotten in recent years.
She cut a piece of parchment paper containing two stickers with the Bureau’s symbol for each kid, watching how some of them stored them away like precious things while others rushed to glue them to notebooks or water bottles they had brought with them, or to their friends’ foreheads.
Birgitta approached her when the last kid had received their gift, her hands clasped in front of her. The soft smile that was on her face as she looked at the kids’ happiness remained when she looked over at Victoria, sitting on the floor with the cardboard box by her side.
“I knew there was a reason why I liked you. Anyone who has that many stickers is to be trusted.”
Chuckling and secretly thanking her past self for remembering to order the gifts, Victoria cut two more stickers from the roll, offering them up to Birgitta.
“Well, I truly hope you’re right!”
Birgitta blinked when Victoria held up the piece of paper at her, and then huffed out a small snicker as she picked it up. Immediately, she glued one of the stickers to her shirt, just above the Sparrow Scouts symbol. She smoothed it over as best as she could, but a couple of creases remained. No matter. She’d stick the extra one to a more regular surface when she got home, so she could keep a reminder of that day.
“Thank you.” Victoria had still been looking at her, and she met her gaze with as much open honesty as she could. Not only had her kids learned a ton of new things, but they were also going to leave with a joyful memory and a happy feeling, and that was exactly what she loved about that job; nothing was worth more than giving that to the children, and Victoria had really gone out of her way to make that happen. It would be a lie if she said she hadn’t enjoyed herself as well. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” The scientist shrugged. Birgitta offered her a hand to get up from the floor, which Victoria gladly accepted. Her job offered constant workout for the brain, but not really for the muscles, after all. When she managed to stand up, they were standing directly in front of each other, just one or two inches of height difference between them. They smiled, and Birgitta decided to call for the scouts before she did something stupid, like ask Victoria out in front of a bunch of loose lipped kids.
There was no chance after that for Victoria to distribute the other types of gift she’d ordered, and she had come to the conclusion that doing so would be too much, anyway. But she stood by the back of the group as they left, and before the boy who had been called out could leave, she tapped his shoulder, making him turn to look at her with surprise.
“For you.” She whispered, handing him a pencil with the rainy cloud logo on it. “So you can write your own story.”
The child was speechless for a moment, holding the pencil like it was precious. Smiling to herself, she was glad she’d decided to give him that; she could never know what was going on in those kids’ lives, so it would never be her place to make any judgements. She herself hadn’t been an easy child to handle, but what adults had labelled as flaws of character had been the very characteristics that had enabled her to get as far as she did. Though it was rare that she had contact with any people at all, let alone children, she had long ago vowed to herself to be the sort of adult she wished to have met as a child.
Snapping her out of her thoughts and making her gasp, the child threw his arms around her neck, hugging her for just a moment before he realised what he was doing.
“Thank you, Miss Van Gale.” He said when he drew back, even though Victoria had not yet fully processed what had happened. “I promise I will.”
He walked away with quick strides to catch up with the rest of the group. From the doorway, Birgitta observed in silent wonder as one of the most hard headed kids in the Scouts passed by her while cradling a pencil delicately in his hands, leaving behind a stunned scientist.
………
Much later, well into the evening, Victoria found herself reading in the room that doubled as her office and her personal library. In a hidden corner of the Bureau, there was a metal ladder that granted access to the upstairs area. When she took over the weather station, it had been a space reserved for storage, but she’d long since then transformed it into her home. Apparently, meteorologists of the past made a point of going home every day, but Victoria truly didn’t see the point in taking the cable car every morning and every night, not to mention the short road to the city. By staying there, she could work more and be closer to her lab, with the bonus of avoiding the commuting. It wasn’t like she had anything waiting for her in Trolberg, anyway.
The most complete book on Weather Spirits she owned was open on the desk in front of her, and she sighed as her focus on the tiny letters wavered. She would kill for a warm beverage just then, but she knew she’d regret it deeply if she drank a cup of coffee that late, and she had run out of cocoa mix.
Screw it. She didn’t want to go to bed at that moment, so her only option was coffee if she wanted to be productive at all while she remained awake. Her current chore was finding any more meaningful information in that book that could help her know how to create an efficient containment station for a weather spirit, but so far she’d been luckless. No one had tried what she was about to, ever, which meant that her task would involve a lot of trial and error.
As soon as she found a spirit to begin with, that was.
When she straightened her spine, since she’d been hunching over her desk, leaning on her elbows, a few vertebrae popped. It reminded her that she’d have to climb down the ladder, and then come back up holding a cup, since she’d installed the coffee machine downstairs to be closer to it while she worked, and she groaned.
While she was having trouble summoning strength to do the trip, her cellphone began ringing in her pocket, startling her. The scientist rarely even got any calls, let alone that late at night. Fearing that it was someone from the City Hall wanting to discuss funding cuts to the Bureau, she peaked at the caller with suspicion, but let out a pleased sight when she realised it was, in fact, Birgitta on the other line.
“Hello there!”
“Hi, Victoria.” Her voice on the other side was soft and low, making her picture the woman getting ready to go to sleep. She imagined that by that time most people were, anyway, if not already deep in slumber. “Sorry for calling you so late. I hope I’m not disturbing.”
“Oh, not at all! You don’t need to worry about that, it’s a pleasure.”
Okay, that was too much. It was too much, right? Or was that just polite? Victoria wasn’t really sure, but she knew her palms were getting sweaty for no reason. Thankfully, Birgitta chuckled.
“Well, good to know. I just needed to call you before I lost the nerve. I was wondering, would it be alright if I went to your place again some day soon? Or we can do this somewhere else, if you’d rather.”
“Oh, that’s okay!” Victoria said, still paying enough attention to the book in front of her that the true meaning of what she’d been asked went completely over her head. “Better to wait a few weeks so I can organise myself to receive more children here, but I’m not averse to another tour.”
There was a beat of silence in the call, during which Birgitta was rubbing at the space between her eyebrows and seriously rethinking her opinions on how fun it was to not be able to pick who you’d fall for.
“I actually meant just the two of us… maybe we could have some coffee? I still owe you for helping me with the bags.”
After opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, Victoria figured it would probably be a lot more useful if she could actually make it so words came from it, and tried to assemble her thoughts into something vaguely coherent. She was a scientist, for goodness’ sake, she could say yes to a date.
“Of course!” She managed to answer at last, instantly making the Raven Leader release the tension that had been on her shoulders. She hadn’t misinterpreted things, after all. “I’d love that. I… I’ll probably go down to the city for groceries tomorrow. Are you free?”
“I get out of work at five tomorrow, is that good for you? You could meet me in my office and I’ll take us to a coffee place I like, how’s that?”
Victoria’s smile was brighter than the rays of sun she’d learned to conjure. “That sounds perfect! See you?”
“You definitely will. Goodnight, Victoria.”
#my fic#verse: n vs. n#fic: kywc#raven scientist ship#raven scientist#victoria van gale#the raven leader hilda#victoria van gale fanfic
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Lost in Translation: Part Two
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE AUTHOR’S NOTE TRANSLATIONS ON AO3
What had she done?
What had she done?
Every one of her nerves was still tingling and pulsating, but she still bent down and snatched up her nightgown and dressing gown, sliding each one on with quick, aborted movements.
Laurie snapped out of his own shock at her motions. “Amy?” he asked hesitantly.
She didn’t say anything. She had begun hurrying towards the door, snatching up a pair of slippers and tying her dressing gown as tightly as she was able.
He blinked at her in confusion. “Where are you-“ his words were cut off by the soft shut of their bedroom door and the sound of bare feet running on the floor.
————
It was late and Amy wasn’t sure where she should go, but she knew she couldn’t stay at the house.
He’d find her at the house, and she needed some time to process what she’d confessed to him, and to prepare herself for his rejection.
And prepare herself for her rejection of all… future advances.
Eventually, she decided on Jo’s new house. It was slightly farther away than her mother’s and therefore, she was very much hoping Laurie wouldn’t think to look for her there.
And, if she were truthful, she just wasn’t up to interacting with children, even Meg’s, although her house was closer, too. She’d be alright with it one day, but, well. Not yet. She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to see a child and not think of Laurie.
Jo answered the door. Still up writing, Amy assumed.
“Amy?” her sister asked, clearly shocked at Amy’s presence. And also possibly the fact that her face was streaked with tears. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
Jo ushered her sister inside. She’d be marrying the professor soon, and as such, he’d yet to move in.
As soon as Jo got Amy into the light of the fireplace and saw the true extent of her state of dress, her eyes widened. “You must be freezing!” she exclaimed. “Come sit by the fire and warm yourself.”
Amy nodded, obeying her sister’s command and wiping away a few tears.
She was soon wrapped in a warm blanket with a hot cup of tea in her hand, and Jo was demanding answers.
“Did Laurie do something? By God, I will slaughter that boy-“
Amy laughed through her tears. “He’s three years older than you!”
Jo waved a dismissive hand. “Once a boy, always a boy.”
Amy laughed again.
“Now then,” Jo continued, ready for an assault. “What did he do? I could get away with his murder, you know.”
Amy sighed and shook her head, taking a sip of her tea and setting it aside. “He didn’t do anything. It was me who made a mistake.”
“Alright,” the elder of the two said slowly. “Then what did you do?”
Fresh tears began to fall, and Amy watched them plop down onto her shaking hands. “I told him I love him.”
Jo raised her eyebrows. “And that’s… bad?”
“Yes it’s bad!” Amy exclaimed. “Of course it’s bad! It’s disastrous!”
“Why? I mean… you’re married. Isn’t it a good thing to be in love with your husband?” After a brief pause, Jo added, “you do mean you’re in love with him, I assume, and that you made that quite clear?”
Amy nodded tearfully. “It was incredibly obvious how it was meant.”
“So, again,” Jo said, “how exactly is you confessing being in love with your husband a bad thing?”
“Because he doesn’t love me back,” Amy whispered miserably. “Or if he does, he’s not in love with me, at least.”
“Whyever would you think that?” Jo asked, surprised.
Amy watched the flames in the fireplace, listened to the crackle of the logs burning.
“I’m just a replacement for you,” she said softly.
Jo blinked at her. “Amy,” she said patiently, “please know that this is meant in the most loving way possible, but you would be a terrible replacement for me.”
Amy looked at her in mild surprise. Partially at her words, and partially that they clearly weren’t meant to be offensive.
“We’re very different people,” her sister went on, “and I’m quite sure it’s impossible for anyone to be with you if it’s me they’re yearning for, or vice versa.”
The younger of the two sighed. “He doesn’t want me. He just wants a wife he thinks is pretty.”
Jo let out an incredibly unladylike snort that almost certainly made Aunt March roll over in her grave.
“No,” she said. “Clearly you weren’t paying attention to how he looked at you during your wedding. Through the entire thing, I might add.”
Amy leaned back against the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Again, he just thinks I’m pretty. That’s all.”
“No,” Jo said again, shaking her head this time. “Men don’t look at a woman like that just because they think she’s pretty. You really ought to pay attention to how he looks at you.”
Amy didn’t quite believe her. She must’ve been misremembering. Still, she asked, “how does he look at me?”
“He looks at you like…” Jo thought for a moment, sipping her tea as she did so. “Like you’re the moon as well as every star in the sky.”
Amy opened her mouth to rebuke this, but a sudden banging on the front door interrupted her before she could speak.
She looked at the door, and then at Jo, her eyes wide and terrified.
There was a slight neigh of a horse outside. How had she not noticed it before?
“Josephine March!” came Laurie’s voice through the door. “I’m fairly certain my wife is in there, and I swear to God, if you don’t bring her out right this minute-“
“Oh, dear,” Jo whispered conspiratorially, taking another sip of her tea. “He’s using my full name. Whatever shall I do?”
Amy would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so scared.
“Jo,” she hissed desperately. “I know- I know what he’s going to say to me, and I need a day, or a week, or preferably a year, to prepare myself for it. I can’t see him now!” Amy pleaded.
“You don’t know what he’s going to say,” her sister pointed out.
He was still banging on the door.
“And you know he won’t leave until somebody answers,” she went on. “He knows very well that I'm home.”
Amy thought for a moment, trying her damnedest to ignore her husband at the door.
“You’re right,” she said with a nod, standing. “Give me a minute or so. I’m going to go hide. You tell him I came by, but I left, and I don’t want to see him anyway.”
Jo gave her that look older siblings often do that says, “this is a terrible idea, but I’m not going to fight you on it.”
And so Amy rushed off to the smallest guest bedroom. Laurie would expect her to hide in Jo’s room, not a tiny guest room.
The bed was high up off the ground but had a bed skirt, so Amy wedged herself beneath the bed, being sure to keep the blanket around her. It was cold without the fireplace lit, after all, and the slippers she wore weren’t exactly insulating.
The sound of a door opening reached her ears.
“What do you want, Teddy?” she heard Jo snap.
She had to strain her ears to hear his reply.
“Is Amy here?” he demanded.
“She was, but she left,” Jo lied expertly, having been covering her sisters’ tracks since childhood. “She doesn’t want to see you, anyway, though, so really, you should just- hey!”
There was a scuffling, and then the sound of shoes on hardwood floors.
“Oh, sure,” her sister snarked sarcastically. “Come right in and make yourself at home!”
“Did she tell you?”
Jo sighed in annoyance. “Tell me what?”
“That she told me she loved me, and then she just- just left!” he nearly spat the words.
Oh, dear. Oh no. He wasn’t just mad. He was furious. She’d only seen him this way a handful of times in all the years she’d known him, and she really, really hoped he didn’t find her.
She could practically hear Jo cross her arms. “That,” she said firmly, “is between my sister and I.”
“She’s my wife now, Jo!” Laurie insisted, sounding tremendously frustrated. “You were just at the wedding!”
“Hm,” Jo hummed. “I do seem to recall something like that, now that you mention it, but even so, she doesn’t want to see you, and would very much like for you to leave her alone.”
She heard her husband snort. “Yeah, well, tough.” There was silence, and then more shuffling. Amy heard her sister sigh again, and then Laurie raised his voice. “Amy!” he called out.
She tried to ignore it, ignore the way he said her name, the way it echoed around the house.
“Amy,” he called again, “if you don’t come out and I find you, I’m going to be very upset indeed,” he warned.
Jo groaned, and Amy could picture her tilting her head back in frustration. “Honestly, Teddy, just go home-“
“Not without my wife,” he insisted firmly.
She heard him step into the room to the left of her; Jo’s room. There was another bedroom to her right, as well. He was rifling around, she could tell. Jo was objecting quite vocally, but he was clearly ignoring her.
He left the room and she heard him shut the door behind him.
Footsteps.
Closer.
And then-
The door opened.
Amy stopped breathing. Her heart stopped. She ceased all movement. She didn’t even blink.
Don’t look under the bed, don't look under the bed, don't look under the bed, she chanted over and over again in her mind, and then she resorted to prayer. Dear Lord, please don’t allow my husband to look under the bed and see me. Don’t allow him to find me. Just give me some more time.
For a few heartbeats, Amy couldn’t hear a thing. She didn’t even hear Jo’s groan of, “fine, have it out, but do not spend your wedding night here!” over the roaring in her ears. Then the padding of bare feet across hardwood floors.
She kept praying he wouldn’t look, wouldn’t find her.
No such luck.
Because Laurie’s stupid, attractive, beautiful, stupid face appeared in her line of vision.
“Amy,” he breathed in relief.
The woman in question squirmed, trying to scoot herself away from him, further underneath the bed.
“Nuh uh,” he said firmly. Oof. There was his angry face. “Either you come out or I’m getting under there with you.”
She blanched at that. She did not want to be in such close proximity to him, so she extradited herself from beneath the bed and promptly squeezed herself in the space between the wardrobe and the wall before he could process what she was doing.
He could neither reach her nor join her, and he hadn’t even said she couldn’t hide there, only that she couldn’t hide underneath the bed, so she’d found a loophole.
Problem solved.
Except, no, not so much, because he was in front of the crevice in just a few seconds, looking very cross indeed.
Even more so, if that were possible, than he had been before.
“Amy,” he said, sounding more dangerous than she could ever recall hearing him, “come out of there.”
There wasn’t enough space for her to shake her head, so she said, “no, I… I don’t think I will. I’m perfectly fine right here, if you don’t mind.”
His eyes blazed.
“If I don’t mind?” He sounded disbelieving. “Of course I mind that my wife ran from me, is hiding from me!”
She flinched when he called her his wife.
He noticed, letting out an agonized groan and raking a hand through his hair.
“Amy, come out,” he begged. “Please. Let me…” he trailed off, looking at her terrified expression, the way she squeezed herself further against the wall behind her. “Let me take you home.”
“No thank you,” she squeaked. “I’m quite well right here, but I appreciate the offer.”
He sighed and looked at the beams in the ceiling.
her husband briefly, only to find him smiling softly at her in a way she found most unsettling. She looked away from his gaze, doing her very best to ignore it, and allowed him to wrap an arm around her waist.
“We’re going to talk about this as soon as we’re home, you realize,” he told her as they walked through the quiet house.
Jo must’ve gone to sleep.
Upon being told this, Amy immediately decided that that wouldn’t do. She knew Laurie cared for her, of course he did. She didn’t doubt that. Perhaps he even loved her. But was he in love with her? No, of course not. She was fully cognizant of that face, and would vastly prefer not to hear it, as it would simultaneously be both incredibly painful and tremendously unnecessary.
————
The ride back was silent, Amy refusing to let him anywhere near her, scooting away whenever he tried to touch her.
Upon their arrival, she attempted to head in a different direction as soon as they stepped through the elaborate doorway.
Laurie grabbed the sleeve of the coat he’d given her. “Where are you going?”
She looked at the floor silently with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Amy,” he said slowly, “were you going to run and hide from me again?”
“…no?” was her hesitant squeak.
“Good God, woman,” he groaned in frustration. “Just- just come back to our room with me, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know.”
Well, no, she thought bitterly. Not physically, at least.
She said nothing, so he stepped around her to face her, cupping her cheeks and looking into her eyes.
“Amy,” he said softly, his gaze flicking briefly down to her lips. “Come upstairs with me,” he begged. “Don’t run from me. Don’t hide from me.”
God, but when he looked at her like that, spoke to her like that…
Amy nodded, earning a sweet, gentle smile.
Leading her back to their bedroom, he shut the door quietly behind them and lifted the coat from her shoulders.
Shucking off his shoes and socks once more, he sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him with a small smile.
Not wanting to argue, she sat as far from him on the bed as she was able. He rolled his eyes slightly but seemed to accept it regardless.
“Amy, why would you run from me?” he asked her gently. “Why would you hide from me?” When she said nothing, he spoke again. “Did you not mean what you said?”
Well. Not much point in lying to him about it, was there?
“I meant it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Then why?” He scooted closer to her, and she looked away from him until he cupped her cheek, turning her face towards his. He was far too close for comfort. When had he moved towards her? “Did you think I’d be upset?”
“No,” she said hoarsely, shaking her head. “That’s not it, I…” She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t want to be rejected. Why bother if she already knew the answer?
“Tell me,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with a calloused thumb. “Tell me, mia amata.”
Tears filled her eyes again, and she looked away from him again. “…I don’t want to hear your response,” she told him miserably.
He blinked in confusion. “Why not?”
“I already know what you’ll say,” she explained, “and I don’t want to hear it out loud.”
He was silent for several seconds, looking at her with wide eyes. “Amy,” he said slowly. “Do you think I’ll… reject you? Me, your husband?” He sounded almost like he couldn’t believe his own words.
“Of course you will!” she snapped through her tears. “I know you don’t love me- at least, not like that- but I- I don’t want to hear it!”
Then both of his hands cupped her cheeks, and he was leaning forward. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m very, very much in love with you.”
Amy squinted at him, finding herself very skeptical indeed.
He chuckled at her expression. “I love you, Amy,” he told her again, his voice still soft. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you.”
She examined his face, the lines of his features, the look in his eyes.
“I don’t believe you.”
“No?” he laughed softly. “Well…” he trailed off, sliding a hand down her neck and into the neckline of her dressing gown. “I suppose I’ll just have to spend the rest of my life convincing you, won’t I?”
And then he kissed her, and fireworks exploded in her veins. Too overcome to stop herself, she kissed him back, pouring all the love she felt for him into it.
He pulled her against him, and she whimpered when his tongue brushed against hers. Sliding her fingers into his hair, Amy allowed herself to have this, to have him.
“Laurie,” she moaned when he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck.
“Esatto,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, kissing her there again. “Gemi per me, amore mio.” He began to suck her neck then, and she wrapped her arms around him.
“What- what does that mean?” she panted. “Translate, remember?”
He hummed against her, untying the ribbons that held her dressing gown closed. “It means, ‘that’s right, moan for me, my love’.”
“M- my love?” she squeaked. She had not been expecting that.
Sliding her dressing gown off of her, he kissed her shoulder. “Mhm,” he agreed. “Amore mio.” He slid the sleeve of her nightgown down her shoulder and kissed it again. “Mia amata.” Another kiss. “Il mio tutto.”
“What about- ah!” her words were momentarily cut off when he closed his teeth around a tendon in her neck. “What about those?”
“Mia amata means ‘my beloved’,” he breathed against the newly tender skin of her neck. “Il mio tutto means ‘my everything’.”
Amy pulled back from him. “Do you mean it?” she asked sharply. “Are you certain you’re not mistaking what you’re feeling for something other than being in love?”
He grinned. “I’m certain,” he assured her. “Let me show you how much I love you.” With that, Laurie was pulling off her nightgown and guiding her to lay down on their bed, kissing her collarbones and cupping her breasts. “God, Amy,” he groaned. “You’re so beautiful.”
Then he was trailing kisses down the length of her torso until he reached her hipbones. “Do you remember how I touched you here?” he asked with a gentle kiss against her flushed skin. Amy nodded, biting her lip nervously. “I’d like to kiss you there, as well.”
“Why?” she asked breathily, feeling terribly nervous.
“Well,” he began with a grin. “A multitude of reasons, really. First, I love you, and I want you to feel good. Second, I want to be the one making you feel good. Third, watching you fall apart was the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’m quite eager to see it again.”
Amy gulped.
She was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he truly did love her.
“So,” he went on, “may I?”
She nodded, still hesitant but choosing to trust him (he loved her, he loved her, he loved her, God but she hoped he loved her) and he slipped between her thighs, spreading her open for him. She could’ve sworn she heard him growl, but her observation was lost when he flicked his tongue over that same part of her he’d focused on before, sliding his fingers in a teasing circle around her entrance.
Recalling how divine it had felt when he’d put them inside of her, she canted her pelvis towards him with a whimper. He hummed against her, licking at her again, slowly with barely-there touches, and oh, but she wanted.
Fearing she’d sound lewd, sound vulgar, she clamped her mouth shut against her moans as he laved at her.
“Let me hear you, amata.” Yes, that was most definitely a growl, no mistaking it. “Hold in your cries, quiet them at all, and I’ll stop,” he warned, his breath fanning over her sensitive skin.
No, no, not that! Amy thought desperately. Anything but that, don’t stop-
Clenching her eyes shut nervously, she nodded her understanding.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against where she needed him. “I want you to see who’s pleasuring you.”
She obeyed, and he smirked in satisfaction, resuming his delicious ministrations.
The pressure of his tongue was firmer now, and when he thrust his fingers inside her, she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried.
She screamed.
It felt incredible. Laurie didn’t so much as flinch; in fact, he seemed encouraged by her reaction, reaching up to grip her breast and lifting his eyes to meet hers as he lapped at her.
Amy didn’t know whether to be ashamed or delighted by the way he was looking at her. He looked like he wanted to consume her.
“Laurie please Laurie Lauriepleasepleaseplease-“ she moaned loudly, lifting her hips towards him.
Trailing his hand down from where he’d been squeezing her breast, he pressed down on her hipbone, holding her in place. His other hand continued to pleasure her, his fingers thrusting in and out repeatedly as he licked her until she thought she might explode.
Her moans were essentially nonstop by that point. “Laurie, God, please- I need you, please, I need- don’t stop, don’t stop, Laurie-“
She was barely enunciating, her words blending together like paint on a canvas, and he still wasn’t stopping. He didn’t even slow down; just kept going, and she knew it was nearing, what he’d given her before. Her fingers fisted in the blankets of their bed, her toes curling, her hips trying to lift up of their own accord only to be stopped by the hand that held her down.
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it. And then he closed his lips around that part of her and sucked, and she burst.
Amy let out a long, high-pitched scream that more than one of the household staff heard. Her body convulsed. Her legs shook.
When it was over, her entire body continued to tingle, as if there were bubbles in every nerve, every vein.
Barely processing that he’d pulled his fingers out of her and was crawling up her body, she kept her eyes closed until she felt a hand on her cheek.
“Amy?” came her husband’s soft, gentle voice.
Blinking her eyes open blearily, she found him gazing at her with obvious adoration.
“Are you alright?” he asked as he stroked her cheek. When she nodded, he smiled. “Did you like it?” Unable to speak, she nodded again. “Good,” he said with a grin and a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Because I would very much like to lick you as frequently as you’ll allow.”
After several seconds, she was granted the ability to speak again. “Can I… can I do that for you?” He froze, his eyes widening. She quickly rushed to explain. “I’m…
I’m fairly certain we won’t be able to…” Amy gulped, finding herself unable to finish her statement. “So if possible, I would like to give you what you gave me.”
Laurie smiled at her then, as sweetly as ever. “It’s possible,” he assured her. “But making love is most certainly possible, as well.”
“Is, um.” She gulped. Again. “Is that what it’s called?”
“It’s called a number of different things,” he told her with a tilt of his head. “Making love is one, yes. Sex is another. Copulation or intercourse are also used.” He thought for a moment. “Shakespeare called it the beast with two backs.”
Amy stared at him. There were so many different terms for this thing she’d never heard of a mere twenty-four hours ago. “And what do you call it?”
“Making love, as I said,” he told her with another smile. “But that’s primarily with you,” he murmured that part, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek.
Her lips parted.
He stared at them and continued. “I’ve been known to refer to it as sex. Or even fucking, on occasion.”
She blinked. He’d mentioned that one before. “Fucking?”
He groaned and leaned his forehead against her shoulder, as if he hadn’t expected her to repeat it.
“It’s, well. It’s the same as the others, essentially,” he explained patiently, his voice muffled by her shoulder. “Although, if it’s called that specifically, it’s usually a bit more… animalistic.”
She squeaked, not knowing what to say to that. Animalistic sounded painful.
“That isn’t to say it hurts,” he rushed on, raising his face to hers again when he heard the sound she’d made. “It’s not something I’d…” he coughed. “Do with you, not right off, and only if you wanted me to.”
Amy could barely breathe. “Why would I want you to?”
He was blushing rather terribly. “I’d make it feel very, very good,” he assured her.
Finding herself very skeptical indeed, she raised an eyebrow at him. “And you… want it that way?”
“I want you any way you’ll have me,” he responded softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Plus,” he said, “I’d like to… claim you, I think.” His hand slid from her cheek down to her waist, brushing the side of her breast as he went.
She thought for several moments. “What makes you so sure it would work?”
“Well,” he began with another grin, trailing his hand from her waist to between her legs again, where she was still wet and quivering. “I’ve prepared you for me already,” he explained. “And I think I’d like to prepare you further.”
He then proceeded to do just that. Twice. She’d screamed so much her throat was raw with it.
She was positively drenched. She could feel it.
He kissed her neck, then sat up on his haunches and gazed at her in such a way she briefly thought of a blazing fire. “Touch yourself,” he rasped as he yanked his shirt over his head. “Put your fingers between your legs and touch yourself as I touched you.”
She shook her head emphatically. “I can’t do that!” she insisted, scandalized.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he assured her with a sweet smile. “It’s just me.”
“You say that like I haven’t…” loved you since I was a child, she finished mentally.
Leaning over to shower her face with kisses, he spoke softly. “There is nothing you could do that I wouldn’t cherish,” he assured her. “Please touch yourself for me, bellissima.”
“W- why?” she managed to force out.
“Because I want to watch you.” He was unlacing his pants one moment and kicking them off the next, and he nodded encouragingly at her.
Feeling horrifically embarrassed, Amy obeyed, pressing her fingers in the same place he had.
Untying the cord that held his undergarments up, he yanked those over his hipbones, too, and she noticed that they protruded from his body, and then…
Dear Lord, Amy thought. It had only been a few hours prior, but she’d forgotten, somehow, how very terrifying that part of him was.
And then he did the strangest thing: he wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke himself, watching her all the while.
“Cup your breast and pinch your nipple,” he commanded softly. She did so, continuing to rub between her legs.
This only lasted for a couple of minutes before he launched himself at her, attacking her with kisses and grasping hands.
“Amy,” he groaned into her mouth. “I need you.”
She felt empty. Terribly, terribly empty. Thinking of his… what had he called it? His cock? Yes, his cock. Thinking of his cock, she found herself rather liking the idea of him putting it inside of her.
“I love you, Laurie,” she told him quietly. “I’m yours to do with as you will.”
He slipped a hand into her hair, kissing her like a man starving, then trailed more kisses down to her jaw and along the length of her neck.
“And I’m yours,” he swore against her skin. “Always, dolce moglie.” She gave him a look and he chuckled before adding, “sweet wife.” Pressing a kiss between her breasts, he went on, “never feel as if you have to say yes to me, Amy.”
She blinked in confusion. She’d sworn to obey him, after all.
“I want you to enjoy this as much as I do,” Laurie explained. “I want to make you happy, make you feel loved, because you are.” He trailed more kisses up her neck and continued. “I want to make you scream again,” he murmured. “I want to make you just as desperate for me as I am for you. I want you to be begging for me, to be shaking from needing me so badly.”
Amy gnawed on her lower lip pensively. “If… if you’re sure it’ll work…” She was being uncharacteristically timid, she knew.
“It will,” he promised, kissing her deeply. “Let me show you how I can make you feel, amata.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and he kissed her again, his tongue brushing against hers. He cupped both of her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly, and she whimpered into his mouth, feeling a muscle deep within her clench when his cock brushed against her skin.
Then he pulled up from her, spreading her legs so he could kneel between them. Fighting down her embarrassment at the exposure yet again, she watched as he took his cock in hand and pressed it against her center, his eyes never leaving hers.
Then he rubbed the tip against that spot, and she jolted with a gasp that ended in a whimper.
“So wet for me, aren’t you, darling?” Laurie groaned, rubbing himself against her entrance now without actually going inside. “So ready for me.”
That muscle clenched again.
Empty.
“Laurie,” she pleaded. “I- I need-“
“I know, love,” her husband assured her. “I know.”
Then, slowly, very slowly, he began to push himself inside of her. Barely anything at first, and then-
Ouch.
That hurt.
It was a strange sort of pain; reminiscent of if she’d held her arm up whilst painting for too long.
He’d stopped, however.
“I was afraid of this happening,” she grit out.
He shook his head. “No, it’s temporary, I promise. It’ll go away.”
Amy looked at him skeptically.
#my writing#fanfiction#amylaurie#amy x laurie#amy march#theodore laurence#little women#little women fanfiction#amy x laurie fanfiction#fanfic
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That's exactly how Gojo gets Utahime. He always making up something using Megumi as an excuse and by then Utahime already caught up to his scheme but she still goes because she is a good teacher and she goes above and beyond for her students!
Write the fic! Write the Fic! Write the Fic! It would be hilarious just to see Gojo being his most brat self because Utahime is considered the best/most popular teacher (the man never lost before so that definitely hits a nerve) and I bet that Utahime would just be so smug about it ( she finally get to beat him on something!).
It would be hilarious and the students would probably enjoy it a lot! They probably have a whole group chapter where they plan ways to tease Gojo 😂
Yeah, you right! Shoko would have a bigger role in Panda and Megumi lives. Tho we don't know exactly when Utahime became a teacher so she may have interacted more with them when they were little.
(like idk if she could became a teacher immediately after graduating? or if she need some field time - especially when there is so few sorcerer for the amount of curses and those fours years that Nanami where gone it meant that basically Gojo, Utahime, Shoko, Mei Mei where the ones on the frontline - i mean they probably have another sorcerer's around but we don't see them - and we know that Utahime didn't have her scar during the hidden inventory arc so she may have been fighting?)
So what I meant to say it's that maybe she was more around when Megumi and Panda were kids. She could be their fun aunt (tho Gojo would probably make fun of that and say that she would be the killer joy aunt 😂)
Yeah, Megumi sister, Tsumiki can't see curses (since Toji isn't her dad). Well in the manga is stated that Gojo helped them get money support on the condition that Megumi would become a sorcerer later and they didn't mentioned anything else.
Well as a fan, I would like to think that Gojo wouldn't let those two fend for themselves and would help them in some way and try to be an active part of their lives and if he couldn't be around maybe get help from his closer circle? Like Nanami, Shoko, Yaga, Utahime would be way better at parenting than him but it would be funny seeing him try 😂
I can see Utahime telling him that Megumi and Tsumiki are kids but way more mature than him 😂
Yess! It would be so amazing! Gojo and Todo are the source of stress of many people so the team up would be hilarious! Really, this manga has so much potential with teams up with Gojo and the students which we would love but Gege is focusing in ripping out our hearts in every need update 😂
Plot twist: Megumi catches on that Gojo is using him to get to Utahime, so Megumi sabotages Gojo (much like in the jujusanpo, only WORSE). Megumi would probably tell Utahime every embarrassing thing Gojo has done in the past decade without ANYYYY hesitation. RIP Gojo lmao.
tbh I will probably write the fic lmao - I’m working on two angsty, Gojo-the-Hoe-jo fics right now (one of which is a follow-up to my other angsty hoe fic) and neither of those have happy endings, so I’ll probably need the fluff hahaaa 😭
Utahime would be that aunt who gets you clothes for holidays, but hides money in the sleeves (with a note that says “save this for your schooling!!!” or something lame like that lol). She would also buy those educational toys? You know, like those puzzles that low-key teach you geography - or even a subscription to a children’s science magazine (National Geographic’s version of this comes to mind). Like, she tries to be fun, but also tries to help children learn (in a fun way!) which is very cute of her.
Every day, I wake up and pray that Gege will show us young Gojo trying to parent Megumi and Tsumiki from childhood into their teenage years. Like? Did he teach them to ride a bike? Did he give them an allowance? Did they have curfews??? If Tsumiki ever went on her first date, did Gojo threaten the poor kid who dared ask her out?? DID GOJO PUT TRACKERS ON THEIR PHONES?? And what about when they both hit puberty?? WHAT DID HE SAY TO THEM? (Imagine, for a moment, Gojo giving those two “The Talk.” Whatever he’d say would probably traumatize them in less than a minute, bet.) The relationship we’ve seen so far between Gojo and Megumi seems too akin to a father and son bond - Megumi actually has a lot of ideas/thought processes/characteristics that are very clearly due to Gojo’s influence - so I imagine that Gojo, whether he intended to or not, was present for most of the big moments in Megumi and Tsumiki’s upbringing. So. I need answers. Gege PLEASE.
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hi! congrats on the milestone! i’ve thought for so long about a sad, aching reypoe once (2007) au mainly just by listening to the soundtrack. or if you prefer something happier, they could have Major jo/bhaer energy if you were to embark on a little women-ish au. congrats again, feel no obligation to do these, i appreciate your writing all on its own!
ohhhh I have also considered the pain of a poerey Once AU - and I think I’d leave the ending as sad/bittersweet as it is in the film. Busker!Poe definitely has its appeal as he makes music with the reluctant Rey....
But! I feel like quarantine has us bummed enough - so let’s do a little sweet (okay it’s slightly sour) Rey/Poe interaction as Jo/Bhaer! (4/10 requests filled for the celebration!)
***
“What do you think?” Rey twisted her ink-stained fingers together, leaning forward towards the rickety old desk. Outside the window, the sun shone down and illuminated the back of Mr. Dameron, who rubbed at his beard and studied her manuscript. He hummed and flipped a page. “Well?”
“Well, I think it would help me read if you would allow me to do just that,” Mr. Dameron looked at her over his spectacles, clearly amused, and Rey grumbled and folded her hands together as primly as she could on her knee, which resumed bouncing as soon as he looked back down at her pages.
She crossed her legs and re-crossed them, chewing on her tongue as she studied the spines of the classics that stacked up behind him in the little boarding room. Children shrieked and screamed in the street outside, but he read on, steady as ever, flipping, flipping - driving her mad - before he turned the last page.
He tented his fingers and looked at her for a long time. Unable to bear it any longer, Rey burst. “Was it good?” She cleared her throat, nervous suddenly. “Did you like it?”
“It was good,” he said after a long time, tilting his head. Rey nodded, her heart in her throat, waiting for him to say more, to tell her it was good (because in her heart of heart’s she knew, just knew that she had rarely met a man as smart as Poe Dameron, and therefore his opinion meant a little something because he was clever and not useless and dithering).
“...And?” She prodded, still unable to wait. “Did you like it?”
“And.” Mr. Dameron sighed through his nose. “It’s ... unimpressive.”
Rey jumped up from her chair, her hands balled into fists. “What about my work did you find ... did you find lacking, Mr. Dameron?”
“You call it your work.” He gazed up at her steadily, and Rey flushed, furious and embarrassed. “But it doesn’t feel like yours.”
“They’re my words,” Rey said hotly, hating the tears that burned in her throat. “It’s my story -- how can it not feel like mine?”
“These are not stories of the human spirit,” Mr. Dameron explained gently, his eyes soft. But Rey couldn’t hear that softness through the roaring in her ears.
He picked up the last page and glanced at it again. “These are ... they’re finely written, Ms. Kenobi, I don’t want you to think otherwise, but these ... these are written for a profit. Not for you to capture your soul, the ins and outs of your excellent mind.”
“And you know my mind so well?” Rey demanded, scooping up the pages. She snatched the last one out of his hand, talking over his protest, “I think you’re - you’re wrong.”
“I might be,” Mr. Dameron agreed readily. “But Ms. Kenobi - Rey - you asked my opinion, and my opinion is that your story ... is not captured in these pages. I don’t want you to cheapen yourself-”
“These stories sell.” Rey waved the manuscript, ears burning. “I make money from these stories, and I support my family with them, and - and - I won’t let some two-bit, puffed-up professor mock me for making a living.”
“I’m sorry, Rey, please, I truly meant no offense-”
She shook her head and interrupted him again. “My story, whatever you think it is - it won’t sell. Believe me, I tried, but nothing came of it. No publisher wants a story about a no one.”
“No one is no one.” Poe stood, his voice soft. Kind.
Rey tossed her short hair out of her face and clutched her manuscript to her chest. “That’s easy for a man to say. Good day, Mr. Dameron. Don’t bother knocking at my door again.” And she swept out the door, kicking it shut behind her.
She didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time she saw Poe Dameron for ten months.
#damerey#jedipilot#poerey#poe dameron x rey#little women au#star wars#jo bhaer AU#1800s AU#ficlet#fill#1000 followers celebration#shakespesre
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🌼 I’d had this book sitting on my bedside ledge shelf for years, mostly because the cover was so lovely, but also because every Christmas I had the intention to read it - and every Christmas I ended up not reading it, either because college studies wouldn’t allow me, or because parallel readings got in the way. Last year, upon hearing about Greta Gerwig’s new film adaptation, I decided I couldn’t postpone it any longer; and thus, on Christmas day, I started.
I was already acquainted with the characters from the 90s adaptation I used to love when I was younger, but upon coming back to the story in its purest form, I met each of them in a new, more complex light. The coming-of-age genre was always one of my favorites, so one focused on 19th century girlhood and the different ways each of them “come of age” was even more appealing to me. Plus, each of them is relevantly flawed, which makes this narrative of “little women” (who in a patriarchal society are brought up to be perfectly good in an idolized way) refreshing, therefore resonating the more with young female readers. As a matter of fact, Meg (although the oldest and wisest) can be pretty vain and jealous, while Jo has to deal with her anger issues and Amy starts off as a spoiled little brat. Even Beth, with all her purity and good heart, must learn to open up and trust others.
Alcott writes this realistic account of feminity from a deeply personal point of view, as proved by a passage in her journal from May 1868: “Never liked girls or knew many, except my sisters; but our queer plays and experiences may prove interesting, though I doubt it.” The way she’s able to step in the depths of girlhood even though she “never liked girls or knew many” is remarkable, while at the same time explains how autobiographical is Jo’s character. Like her, Alcott’s goal was to support herself and her family through her writing. As Regina Barreca says in the Introduction for this Signet Classics edition, with “a fierce sense of independence”, Alcott refused to follow the two obvious paths for women at the time: marriage and teaching (x). She tried to do the same with Jo: “Girls ask me who the little women marry, as if that was the only end and aim of a woman’s life”, she writes. “I won’t marry Jo to Laurie to please any one”.
But the core of the story for me is exactly Jo and Laurie’s relationship. Not because of the romantic light in which her public at the time saw it, but exactly because of her refusal to bind them in a traditional heteronormative romance. In my opinion, they are one of the best literary representations of platonic soulmates. I’m aware that I’m using very contemporary terms to analyse a 19th century novel, but I take this liberty with Alcott since she was a woman extremely ahead of her time. In fact, according to Susan Straight in the Afterword for this same edition, she was “a staunch supporter of women’s right and education, an enemy of corsets and a proponent of marriage as companionship, not a romantic and impractical love union” (506).
Laurie, the only main male character of this female-driven narrative, has a very feminine name for starters, while Jo shortens her name to seem more boyish. In this sense, their first interaction is very pertinent:
‘(...) thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March, I’m only Jo,’ returned the young lady.
‘I’m not Mr. Laurence, I’m only Laurie.’
‘Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.’
‘My first name is Theodore, but I don’t like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.’
‘I hate my name, too, so sentimental! I wish every one would say Jo instead of Josephine.’
Their androgyny acts as a mirror-image to each other, and they instantly connect. They first meet while hiding from a party inside a curtained recess, and then end up dancing away from everybody in the hall. Jo finds in Laurie the boy she always wanted to be, while Laurie seeks in her a liberation from his self-confinement. She is also his doorway for the March family, where he acquires the feminine figures that had been missing in his life thus far. That’s why they work so well as kindred spirits, while romance would be an unnecessary plot device. As Laurie himself tells Jo after mistaking his love for her as a romantic one:
“I never shall stop loving you, but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that’s all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited”
For me, Jo was clearly from the beginning an aromantic character, thus why I don’t really enjoy her ending with Mr. Bhaer. Greta’s turn in her film adaptation is delightful, and it gives us a deeper understanding of Alcott’s initial intentions for the story:
DASHWOOD: So, who does she marry?
JO: No one. She doesn’t marry either of them.
DASHWOOD: No. No, no, no, that won’t work at all.
JO: She says the whole book that she doesn’t want to marry.
DASHWOOD: WHO CARES! Girls want to see women MARRIED. Not CONSISTENT.
JO: It isn’t the right ending.
DASHWOOD: The right ending is the one that sells.
Jo thinks. Dashwood pounces. DASHWOOD (CONT'D): If you end your delightful book with your heroine a spinster, no one will buy it. It won’t be worth printing.
Jo shifts. She considers. JO: I suppose marriage has always been an economic proposition. Even in fiction.
DASHWOOD: It’s romance!
JO: It’s mercenary.
DASHWOOD: Just end it that way, will you?
JO: Fine.
Many argue that, by canonically marrying Mr. Bhaer and having his children, while at the same time opening her school, Jo is “the first American literary heroine to ‘have it all’, both love and career” (Christine Doyle). But I think that would be more the goal of someone like Amy, whose main desire is, throughout the whole novel, to be an artist, and who also ends up marrying Laurie. Jo is a different person who, in my opinion, isn’t made for marriage; not with the character I defend to be her soulmate, neither with the character whom I allow she may have an attraction for - but wouldn’t go as far as to marry. Of course, that is my “contemporary” point of view, but it’s a point of view that I believe many women already felt in patriarchal 19th century society, only didn’t have the tools to express or the freedom to engage in. And that’s why Greta’s new take on this classic tale is so relevant and refreshing, paying tribute to Alcott’s legacy, life and literature in every way.
#Little women#louisa may alcott#greta gerwig#signet classics#classics#literature#American literature#coming of age#jo march#the march family#meg march#amy march#beth march#Laurie#saoirse Ronan#Florence Pugh#timothee chalamet#books#book#books and flowers#flowers and books#flowers#white flowers#bookstagram
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One Life To Live
Hi Readers, here’s the latest chapter. Thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” which you can read on AO3 and FanFiction.
Chapter 27
The gates of Victor’s Village looms closer with every step. I wish I could grab Marcus by the hand and run back into the woods. To live in the concrete house by the lake, just the two of us, and live on wild greens, berries and katniss roots. To make love long into the night, and then bring out our sleeping mats as we did last night, to lie beneath clear skies to watch for shooting stars. Marcus would point out the constellations – big bear, little bear, lynx – and I’d say they look nothing like them, and then we’d take our sleeping mats back into the concrete house to sleep in each other’s arms until the morning light. And we’d live it over, and over again, so I’d never have to face what lies beyond those gates.
It’s not long to the wedding and I dread the thought of it, but I have to go. If I don’t, there’ll be talk. Flavius keeps me abreast of all the gossip. The relationship between Peeta and Lace isn’t popular, and this wedding is seen by many as the ultimate betrayal, so invested were people in our romance. I don’t know if Peeta is aware of it; he seems to live in a fantasy world sometimes. But Lace surely would. To protect him, I have to appear as if I’m fine with it. And that means fronting up to the wedding, all smiles and best wishes for the happy couple. But I’m far from confident that I can pull it off.
And there’s after. Living across the road from them. Knowing that Lace occupies his bed every night. His happiness, her smugness. The pain of interacting with him. What are we now, anyway? Not friends anymore, not really. Acquaintances? Fellow veterans? And they intend having children too. Five of them. It will likely be straight off, if Peeta has his way. And when they’re old enough they’ll go to school. The school I work at. And be in my classroom. I’ll never be free of them, even if I do move out of the Village. Not only would I need to change houses. I would need to change jobs. Maybe even change Districts.
As we pass through the gates, I can’t help but drag my feet. Marcus turns his head to peer questioningly at my face. I pick up my pace to catch up with him. We’re nearly at my house.
“I’m just tired,” I tell him. “And hungry.”
“You’re a woman of immense appetites, Katniss Everdeen,” he says, pulling me towards him to give me a quick, hard kiss.
“And whose fault is that?” I retort. “If you weren’t so good at cooking and – “
“Fucking?” asks a disembodied voice. A female shape emerges from the shadows of my porch. It’s Johanna. She appears to have been waiting for us.
“You’re late,” she accuses. “You said you’d be back around mid-afternoon.”
I scowl at her. I know what I said, but I don’t like her tone. I’m not obliged to be back at a certain time to please her. Besides, what’s she even doing here? It’s not like I invited her over and wasn’t here when she arrived.
“We came back a different way. It took longer,” I say curtly. That’s all the explanation I want to give, but Marcus, perhaps to diffuse the tension, steps in to give Johanna a brief welcoming hug.
“Katniss had something to show me. Would you believe an oak with a circumference of over 23 feet? At least three hundred years old.”
“That’s nothing,” says Johanna dismissively. “In 7 we have trees much bigger and older than that.”
“Is there anything we can help you with?” I break in. I’m not in the mood for a contest over which district has the biggest trees. All I want is to offload this heavy pack, have a bite to eat and then go to bed.
“I need to speak with you. That’s if you can spare the time,” she replies, her voice edged with sarcasm. What is her problem? She hasn’t been this hostile towards me since the Quell.
I turn to Marcus in exasperation. He takes the hint and moves towards the door. “Why don’t I see what I can scrounge up for supper? Will you be joining us, Jo?”
I can see the struggle in her face. This is food and Johanna will rarely pass on an invitation. “No thanks,” she says, and I can see it’s hurting. “I shouldn’t stay away for too long.”
After Marcus closes the door behind him, I hoist my pack from my shoulders and drop it to the floor. My feet are tired and I sit down on the top step, motioning for Johanna to do the same but she remains standing, arms crossed in front of her. Before I can even open my mouth, she lets me have it.
“Are you with Marcus now?” she demands.
“None of –,” I begin, but then think better of it. I don’t want to add fuel to whatever fire is bugging Johanna. I start again. “I don’t know. Maybe.” And that’s the truth. I’m not so naïve to believe that a weekend of sex makes us boyfriend and girlfriend. Nothing’s been said about feelings, or our future.
“But you’re fucking him?” Johanna persists. It’s more a statement than a question.
“We’ve had sex, if that’s any of your business,” I say stiffly.
“Of course, it’s my business. It became my business when you involved me in this whole sorry saga with Peeta.” My irritation with her rises another notch. It was her idea to get involved, not mine.
“Not that you shouldn’t fuck him,” she continues. “Peeta’s had his fun, so why can’t you? Heck, I’d even say fuck the entire district; you don’t owe him anything. But it doesn’t help, you know. Not when I’ve been working my arse off to get the two of you back together. But today I really could have used your help. With Peeta having flashbacks every five minutes and Haymitch next to useless. Aurelius says it’s the stress but – “
“Wait! Slow down. I can’t make head or tail of what you’re on about.” I shake my head in confusion. “What stress? And why isn’t Lace taking care of him? It should be her responsibility, not yours. I don’t –”
“They broke up.”
It takes a few seconds to sink in. And when it does, all I can do is stare at Johanna thunderstruck. “But why?” I eventually get out. “Is it because she lied?”
Johanna shrugs. “I asked him that. He said they both lied.”
She comes to sit down beside me on the porch step, having calmed down a little. “When he came home last night, he didn’t seem too bad, just really flat, like he had nothing left. But this morning, he started having those flashbacks he gets where he has to clutch the back of a chair or something. I went to Haymitch for help but he chose last night, of all nights, to go on a bender. I couldn’t get one sensible word out of him.”
“Sometimes a jug of cold water thrown over him helps,” I say absently, still stunned over the news of Peeta and Lace’s breakup. Despite myself, a kernel of hope takes root in my heart. Could the breakup have been over me, even just a little bit? But then just as quickly, I squash it down flat, stomp it back down into the earth, and bury it deep. Fool! When will you learn?
My gaze settles on his house across the street, only a very short distance away, and I wish I could be there with him. I feel bad that I wasn’t, but I know I wouldn’t have been wanted even if I had. He has enough to deal with without adding his current awkwardness with me to the mix. How can you feel right accepting comfort for heartbreak, when the very person who’s doing the comforting is heartbroken over you? I’m very grateful that Johanna is taking care of him, but I can’t help feeling jealous too. She gets to be the one to protect him, when it used to be me.
Johanna’s voice snaps me back to attention. “So, I got on the phone to Aurelius and told him what happened. He said emotional stress exacerbates his condition and to increase his meds. Which I did, but he still kept on having them. A couple of hours ago I slipped some sleep syrup into his tea, so he could get some rest, and he’s now sleeping it off. I don’t want to be gone too long on the chance he wakes up. Although I did give him a big dose.”
If it was the same as I gave him in our first Games, he’ll be out until at least noon tomorrow. “How did you get him to drink it? He would have noticed the sweetness. He doesn’t take sugar in his tea.”
“I think he wanted to be knocked out,” says Johanna. “He was exhausted.”
“Do you know who broke it off?” I ask. It seems to me that it must have been Lace since he’s taken it so hard.
“No. I couldn’t get him to talk much.” She lets out a breath and shakes her head. “What a mess! The reception will have to be cancelled, though I doubt he’ll get his money back at such short notice. And what he’s spent on clothes for himself and the wedding party.” That’s news to me. Surely Peeta wasn’t paying to outfit the entire wedding party. Who was to be in it, anyway? And then it dawns on me. Of course, friends and family of Lace. “At least there’s one blessing, Lace’s relatives are still in 8 so he hadn’t yet paid for hotel rooms for them all. He’d booked the best rooms for them too.” Johanna rolls her eyes at this. I narrow mine. That bitch! And after I had warned her not to encourage Peeta’s extravagant spending on this wedding.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” I ask. “He’s already gone through so much.”
“Yeah, I think so,” she answers. “He’s had a lucky escape if you ask me, although it might take a while for him to see it that way. That relationship always seemed off to me – like they were trying too hard. I would have given it a year if they’d married. Eighteen months, tops.”
“Maybe,” I say uncommittedly. I don’t know if I agree. What I do know is that Peeta would have given it everything he had to make it work. And if a mutual love of swimming pools and dining out at restaurants is a good foundation for a marriage, then they had it. They both wanted kids too and that’s something I can’t promise him. Peeta would be a wonderful father. If anyone is to be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta.
“So, is it serious between you and Marcus? Because you might have a shot with Peeta now,” says Johanna.
“No!” I burst out, and Johanna’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the ferocity of my response. “I don’t have any chance with Peeta, none at all, so you can give that game up right now. He knows how I feel about him. He guessed from something Haymitch told him and he’s been avoiding me since. And I’m tired, Jo. Tired of getting my hopes up and then having them dashed. I’ve spent the past year trying to remind him what we were to each other, and failed. But the simple truth is that, if he loved me, he wouldn’t have got with Lace in the first place. I’m not . . . I just don’t want to go there anymore. I’ve had enough. ”
“Wow! That was extreme,” Johanna says, shooting me an incredulous look. “I thought the mission was to help Peeta find himself. Which would also include regaining his attraction to you. I assume then that you’ve given up?”
“Not given up. Faced reality.” I say.
“Humph!” snorts Johanna, unconvinced. “Well, it’s your call but before I let it go for good, I want to tell you a theory I’ve been working on. Just don’t say anything until I’ve finished.”
“Alright, go ahead,” I say wearily, scrubbing at my forehead. Johanna will do what she wants to anyway.
“Well,” she starts, with the air of someone telling a story to a small child, “it involves this man – let’s call him Peeta – who had his mind shattered into a million pieces by an evil troll – we’ll call him Snow – and when his mind was put back together again, some of the pieces were in the wrong place. And his love for his teenage crush – Katniss, we’ll call her – had gone AWOL and had been replaced with a conviction that she had never loved him, and never could. And then along comes this other woman – known as Lace, although it’s not her real name – and even though she’s a giggling idiot, she knows how to pander to his ego - which is in the toilet, by the way - with lavish displays of admiration and affection.
“But then one day, he wakes up, and realizes that what he loved about Lace, was really his own needs reflected back at him. And also that she was a lying deceitful bitch. At the same time, he’s come to realise that it’s Katniss he really loves, but he thinks that not only has he ruined any chance he might have had with her by being with Lace, she’s now with another man, who not only likes the things she likes, but has two legs, no burn scars and isn’t a mental mess. So, to be fair to Lace, he breaks it off with her, and to be fair to Katniss, he leaves her alone to live her life. But then, the whole situation becomes too much for him and it brings on flashbacks, one after another, in rapid succession. It’s fortunate that a loyal, resourceful, amazingly intelligent friend is there to give aid. She then tries to talk sense into Katniss, which, as usual, is a waste of time. But she tries anyway, hopeful that one day, something might get through to that brainless head of hers.”
“That last part was completely unnecessary,” I say. There’s no gain in rising to Johanna’s barbs, any more than there is to Max’s teasing. They really are alike. Maybe that’s why they fight. As for her theory, it does have some plausibility, but it’s still mostly wild speculation. “Is there something you know that I don’t?” I ask. “Or did you make that up?”
Johanna shrugs. “I made it up. But you have to admit it makes sense.”
I roll my eyes at her. “For you, maybe.”
We sit in silence for a few moments until Johanna slaps her thighs and gets to her feet. “I should get going now, just in case. I don’t want him waking up to an empty house. Oh, and Katniss, if you’re going to fuck Marcus, you should do something about birth control. Sex has consequences, you know.”
“Yes, I do know that. My mother is a healer, if you recall. I know how to take care of myself.” What I don’t tell her is that in 13, all female military recruits were given five-year contraceptive implants before they were sent into action. Johanna wouldn’t know this because she failed the final test having succumbed to her phobia of water, a consequence of her torture in the Capitol. Something I’m sure Johanna wouldn’t like to be reminded of.
Before she leaves, she says, “I’ll keep you posted, and I think you should visit once things settle down a bit. He needs to know he’s not alone.”
I nod because it’s easier than arguing. I’m pretty sure that Peeta won’t want to see me. It might even bring on another flashback.
I watch Johanna walk over to Peeta’s house and close the door behind her. And then I open the door of my own house to where Marcus is waiting. He’s set out a platter of cheeses, pickles, carrot sticks, crackers and fruit. And some kind of spread that he made from a can of chickpeas he found in the pantry. There’s also a plate of Peeta’s cookies and a pot of tea.
“Peeta again?” asks Marcus. He pours out two mugs of tea and sets one in front of me.
“How did you guess?” I hope we weren’t speaking so loudly that it could heard from inside the house. The dining table is not far from a window. My face reddens at the thought, especially since there was talk about Marcus and fucking.
“Because whenever you and Johanna have one of your private talks out there on the porch, it’s about him. I hope everything’s alright.” He makes a plate of food for himself while he’s speaking, his expression unreadable. I get the impression that he’s well and truly over Peeta Mellark.
I come straight out with it. Word is going to get out anyway. “Peeta and Lace have split up. The wedding’s off. Peeta is . . .” I pause here. I don’t want to give too much of Peeta’s mental state away. People, Marcus included, already think he’s unstable. “Peeta’s very upset about it,” I end up saying.
His hands still for a moment, poised as he cuts a slice of cheese to add to his plate. “That’s . . . unfortunate. I suppose it had something to do with the incident at the pub last week?”
“I’m not sure. Probably.” I don’t really know, but Johanna said something about both of them lying, so I think it’s safe to assume. “Johanna wasn’t very clear about it.”
I take a cracker from the platter and nibble on it. My appetite seems to have dried up for some inexplicable reason. Something is wrong, and I don’t know what it is. The air almost crackles with it.
“How do you feel about it?” he asks, eyes intent on mine.
I don’t answer immediately, unsure of the motive behind his question. Is he asking my opinion on the break-up – whether I think it was good thing, or a bad thing? Or is he asking how it’s affected me emotionally? I decide the first option is the safer of the two.
“It’s sad. They seemed very compatible. But I guess if you don’t have trust in a marriage, then it’s unlikely to work in the long run, so perhaps it’s for the best.” I shrug my shoulders slightly to simulate indifference and sip my tea. “It’s hard for me to comment exactly, without knowing the details,” I add.
“The devil’s in the details,” he says, almost distractedly. “But you’re right about trust. No relationship can be successful without it.”
And then he returns to his food, and nothing more is said about it. But something’s not quite right. The only thing I can attribute it to is the news of Peeta and Lace’s cancelled wedding. Perhaps he thinks our relationship is at risk now, when nothing could be further from the truth. There’s no chance that Peeta and I will get back together. Lace out of the picture won’t change that.
Later that night, after a quick shower, I pull from my closet a filmy negligee the colour of apricots. It was part of the wardrobe Cinna designed for my wedding to Peeta. I never got the chance to wear it, nor the matching nightgown, so light that it’s almost transparent. I trail the gauzy fabric through my fingers, noting how fragile it is. It would be so easy to rip from neckline to hem, that it makes me wonder if that’s its intended purpose. My mind can’t help but imagine how Peeta would have reacted to seeing me in it. Or how he would react if I showed up at his house right now, with only this sheer, flimsy garment to cover my naked body. Probably it would send him into a flashback that he’d never come back from.
I take a critical look at myself in the full-length mirror. The soft orange complements my olive skin and my hair, freed from its braid, ripples down my back in silky waves. My body is slender and small breasted, but still feminine, the waist curved and the hips rounded. My nipples stand out in hard peaks against the gossamer thin fabric and the dark triangle of my pubic hair is clearly visible. I turn my back to peer over my shoulder. My best asset, my “derriere”, as Effie would call it, is high and round. The burn scars, most prevalent on my back, are barely noticeable now, thanks to the skin treatments, except for a few spots where the skin looks slightly melted. Not too bad, Everdeen. Not too bad at all.
My feet are silent on the carpeted floor to the guest room. I rap lightly on the door and he tells me to come in. He’s toweling himself dry but he stops the instant he lays eyes on me. And when the towel drops to the floor, forgotten, I see that I’ve achieved the exact response I was hoping for.
The love-making this night is wild and uninhibited. It dawns on me that Marcus had been holding back, perhaps in deference to my virgin status, but now that’s abandoned. My theory about the nightgown proves correct. Marcus rips it right down the middle and then slips it off my shoulders in one movement, taking the robe with it. I didn’t know that humans could make love like animals, with the male thrusting from behind. I’d always assumed it was face to face like the illustration in the tattered text book we were provided with in the meagre sex education classes at school. But I love it, so animalistic and exciting, the way he pounds into me, his hands holding my hips firmly in place. The way I can’t help but arch my back to welcome him in with every thrust.
But after our passion is spent, my thoughts return again to Peeta. How he’s feeling, how helpless I am to help. I try hard to recreate the magic of the concrete house by the lake, where I could lie in Marcus’s arms, warm and snug and drift into a dreamless sleep. Because I know instinctively, that the nightmares will return tonight, as bad as ever.
If only Peeta had never come back to 12. He would have got the treatment he still desperately needed if he had stayed in the Capitol. He wouldn’t have met Lace, and she him. And as for me, I was resigned to the fact that I had lost him and I know now that I would have recovered from my depression eventually. His return simply sparked a false hope that I’ve been battling ever since. So here I lie, in the arms of a man who is as close to perfect as you can get, and my head is full of Peeta Mellark.
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Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 16X10
So, I watched the Grey’s Anatomy Station 19 Crossover Premiere over the weekend. I have to say overall I really liked it! The pacing of Station 19 was a bit slow for me but other than that it was great! The fast paced Grey’s Anatomy episodes are my favourite! So I really liked this one. My heart went out to Bailey in these episodes. All the Ben and Bailey moments and they’re excitement over the new baby made me cry. Poor Bailey. She loses her pregnancy, almost loses her husband, and then her residents’ lives are left hanging in the balance. In the aftermath of the crash, Helm needs surgery; Schmitt collapses; Simms needs major facial and neurosurgery, and Parker goes AWOL and needs treatment.
I really like Meredith’s monologue in this episode. Being the best really is a catch 22. The amazing thing is no one else can do what you do. The terrible thing is no one else can do what you do. I loved the moment between Bailey and Schmitt in the supply closet. In other news, Jo totally stole that baby! Her drunken panicking about the cops is hilarious. But then we find out it’s only Meredith. Crisis averted! And she’s got wine! She came to drink with Alex because quote “Cristina sent an obnoxious Irishman as a gift” and he stole Alex’s old job. I love her. Never change Mer. Never change.
I loved her line, “That’s what I said when I stole a baby,” about Zola and Link’s response, “Why are people stealing babies?” Mer gets it. Link is confused. To be honest Jo talking to the baby in a baby voice about how Meredith is a convicted felon is everything. Cut to the hospital where Amelia and Tom are bantering back and forth. I love their banter. Amelia is looking for Maggie because she just found out that Link might not be the father only to find out from Tom that Maggie quit. Yikes!
And as usual DeLuca mouths off to his superiors and defies orders before being put promptly in his place. How is he still Chief Resident and why does he still work here? In real life that would get you fired real fast. Parker’s storyline this episode got me hard. I really like him and watching him repeat the same thing over and over again while he suffered from PTSD and head trauma was heartbreaking. I’m glad they got him the help he needed in the end. Bailey’s line, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” about her residents really got me. RIP George O’Malley. I still miss his character.
We all deserve a partner as amazing as Ben Warren. My god that man is supportive. His wife just suffered a miscarriage, he’s suffering the loss of a child, and he’s not okay, but he puts all that aside for Bailey’s sake because as he says to Webber, “Miranda comes first,” That’s true love right there. Side note: I like that Amelia and Teddy are becoming friends. I’m over this whole women on women hating each other over a man thing. That always pissed me about Addison and Meredith. Meredith never intentionally did anything to her and Addison was the one that cheated yet she treated Meredith like crap.
Eventually Jo does in fact take the baby she stole to the hospital’s nursery and in walks not her husband, but Dr. Cormac Hayes! Cristina’s Yang’s present, the new Chief of Peds, and Meredith’s new love interest. Swoon! Oh course, Jo is a weird hot mess because she’s drunk haha. Watching Hayes check the baby out using technical terms while using a baby voice so as not to scare him warms my heart. I loved Jo’s line, “Oh you’re him!” when she figured out who Hayes was and then tried to hide it so as not to scare him off. I feel like that’s going to be an ongoing plot point and I’ll be interested to see how he finds out that and how he reacts to being brought to Grey Sloan on false pretenses and the fact that all of Meredith’s friends went along with it.
The scenes with Jo and Cormac in the nursery are very revealing. He’s comments imply that he might have worked for Cristina previously which is interesting and thickens the plot considerably. I really like Hayes as a character so far. He checks all the right boxes and in his interactions with Jo this week we got some more insight into his character. Hayes is shown to be competent at his job and as someone who is willing to roll with the punches. He feels compassionate towards others in difficult situations, which includes both scared birth mothers and safe haven volunteers, and doesn’t judge them or their choices.
What Jo initially thinks is a bad idea turns out to be rather genius. Hayes advocates for the baby hatch/box/chute because it gives birth mothers who are scared and frighten a safe way to help the child they’ve given birth to have a better life and know that they will be taken care of. They help hospital staff help those babies the best way they can. Hayes recognizes that that’s what Jo is trying to do to for this particular baby and is sympathetic. Already that puts him leagues above most of the other men on Grey’s especially with Alex MIA.
I’m also excited by the prospect of finally seeing Meredith date somehow her friends and family like and who has the potential to be a real partner to her and a real stepfather to her children. They’ve established that Cormac has teenage sons of his own which means there’s the potential there for their kids to interact and to see Meredith and Hayes re-build their lives together and merge their families. That’s way more interesting to me than the whole ‘love interest of the week’ thing they’ve been trotting out for the last little while.
It’s true that Hayes is obnoxious and arrogant at time, but the show has also established that he’s got the skills to match and can admit when he’s wrong. Before the break we saw how he was impressed by Meredith’s skills, but not intimidated or jealous of her and that is exactly what Meredith needs. Someone whose on her level and who gets it, but who understands that he can’t possibly compete with her because she’s just that good.
I was really worried when Schmitt collapsed in the OR. I’m glad he made it. I loved Mer and Schmitt’s banter afterwards. She’s got all the jokes. I’m not an Owen fan and these days I’m not much of a Jackson fan, but his line to Owen was EPIC! “I figured ‘cause you have two kids together, you live together, you marry everyone, but I guess you have been busy haven’t you?” Jackson spilling the tea!
In other news, I still hate DeLuca with the passion three thousand burning suns. He’s assigned to help Elliot, the patient whose heart hasn’t restarted whose wife just had a premature baby and he spends the whole time acting like all of it is beneath him. God what an ass. He breaks up with Mer over his own insecurities and then instead of apologizing like Link told him to he mopes around the hospital and stares at her creepily and then texts her the next day wanting to talk. Ugh. Also, I hate that he calls her Mer.
That’s what her friends and family call her. DeLuca barely knows her. From the minute he took an interest in her and she indicated that she might like him back he started acting like they were madly in love and acting like they’d known each other and been together for years when they’d barely been dating a few weeks and she was adamant he wasn’t her boyfriend. God I hate this guy so much. He’s such a loser. Can they just write him off already so Mer can live her life in peace? In happier news, I was ecstatic when Elliott’s heart started beating again! His poor wife. And then we’re back to Jo and Hayes. The baby’s good to go but he sees how attached she is so he suggests they wait a while longer before calling social services.
We also learn some important information about Hayes in this scene. We learn he’s a father to two teenage boys and was in residency when his boys were infants. We also learn that Hayes is a member of the ‘it’s okay to steal cute babies’ club! He’ll fit right in with Mer and Jo! Although maybe not with Link. I really love Link and Jo’s friendship and the scene at the end with them was super cute. I loved how Richard was there for Bailey in the OR when she needed him. I’m happy that they’re friends again. Poor Bailey the scene with her and Richard in the OR made me cry. She’s not fine. “She just was. And now she isn’t.”
Admittedly, I don’t like Owen as a character but that was a good save with Simms! If he hadn’t caught that Simms would be dead. After the surgery is complete Jackson and Owen talk to Simms’ Grandmother where they learn that when Koracick moved to Seattle and wanted Simms with him he paid for his grandmother to move there too. I loved their exchange. “You know how emotional he is.” “Koracick? Of course, yeah super emotional guy.” LOL. But seriously though that was really sweet of him. He’s an ass, but he’s an ass that cares when it counts.
I like that Koracick thanked Owen and shook his hand. That was good of him. If the situation was reversed I don’t know if Owen would do the same. The Schmico scene at the end was cute! I think there’s an interesting parallel here between the Schmico scene and that Calzona scene from several seasons back. And just then, Hayes is standing at a nurses station, when Meredith comes around the corner! Squee!
Straight up, Meredith and Hayes were in a scene together for all of 5 seconds this episode and they had flat out more chemistry than her and DeLuca have ever had! Or most of her other recent love interests more that matter. I said what I said. They talk for a few minutes and then Hayes walks off to go do something. At which point Jo walks up to Mer and says, “I have to say I kinda see it.” Jo Karev: A woman after my own heart! Sing it sister! Grayes all the way!
Meredith is displeased as she finds him obnoxious to which Jo replies, “Don’t be mad at me. He’s Yang’s gift.” Haha I love it! I want my best friend to send me a man. Anyone else? In other news, Owen finally proposes to Teddy! I’m not a towen shipper, but I have to say this proposal was really sweet. Amelia decides to learn from her mistakes and tell Link the truth only to have Owen and Teddy announce their engagement right in front of them! Yikes!
And Koracick sees the whole thing from a far. Oh boy. RIP Tomaltman? Korackman? Whatever we were calling it it’s dead now. Amelia can’t bring herself to come clean after that and who can blame her? I wouldn’t be able to either. So instead she tells Link they’re having a boy Oh boy. Here we go again. We then cut away from the hospital to find Maggie drunk and passed out on the couch. Oh dear.
Someone won’t stop knocking at the door so she gets up to answer it. And look who it is. It’s none other than her ex DeLuca. Man this guy is the gift that keeps on giving! He tells her that Elliot’s heart restarted which is nice of him. He should have stopped there and left. Instead he asks if they can talk and Maggie being grateful let’s him in. He then proceeds to complain to his ex-girlfriend whose obviously hurting about how he blew it with her older sister.
God this guy is such an ass! He breaks up with Mer over his own insecurities and then has the audacity to go to his ex whose her sister and ask for advice to win her back while Maggie herself is hurting. Screw this guy! Then he tries to act like he didn’t break up with Meredith while also admitting that he meant what he said. Wow. He’s both a gaslighter and a complete idiot. As Maggie says he, “Hurt someone whose had more than enough hurt for a lifetime.” Maggie gets it and DeLuca needs to get the hell out.
He keeps talking about how he wants to undo the hurt he’s caused as if they got into a minor fight. Buddy. You don’t undo it you idiot you just move on and let Meredith and her sisters live their lives and leave them alone you jackass! And as if DeLuca’s idiocy isn’t bad enough, we then find out that Maggie’s being sued for wrongful death for what happened with Sabrina.
Also how does DeLuca not comprehend that someone with the last name Webber is related to Richard and Maggie? Man, this guy is dumb. We then cut back to the hospital to find Bailey alone in her office, but not for long. Richard and Meredith come to her office to comfort her. Mer brings her tissues and donuts and holds her hand while she tells her that, “I had a miscarriage once. I never felt so lonely.” God Grey’s just break my heart why don’t you? And then everyone laughs about the donuts Meredith brought. My heart.
Well that was intense! Now onto next week’s promo! Oooooh and it looks like things are heating up between Mer and Hayes! In the bad news column, it looks like DeLuca continues to try and gaslight Mer with the whole ‘I didn’t dump you, you just interpreted it that way’ thing and it looks like Mer is having none of it thank god! In other news it looks like Teddy somehow lost her engagement ring and Amelia finally comes clean with Link! Can’t wait!
Until next time!
#grey's anatomy#Meredith Grey#greys anatomy#16X10#help me through the night#grayes#amelink#towen#jo karev#Cormac Hayes#amelia shepherd#tom koracick#atticus link lincoln#miranda bailey#ben warren#benly#cristina yang#maggie pierce#jackson avery#owen hunt#teddy altman#levi schmitt#schmico#calzona#station 19#cross over#premiere#thoughts#review#critique
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Qurbaan Hua ~ Episode 5-9: Of IVF Being Horrible, Windchimes, Cunning Aunties and Disgusting Husbands
Gonna dive right in
Episode 5
Mans has gone from “me and Meera have been dating for 6 months” to screaming “I LOVE YOU MEERA” at the top of the mountain
Time for another coincidance - it’s purnima so he’s going to go ask for a mannat and on this day different people from different faiths go to this certain place for their wishes and prayers - and we all know what that means
Also now that I’ve watched a few episodes, I have to say I really like the styling for Chahat they’ve given her a mix of ethnic and western wear and the fancy clothes she wears are really pretty (so far) and I hope it stays this way
I am a complete slut for mannat scenes and this one was very pure
Why can’t these people say Saraswati, it isn’t that hard
Also it’s 2020, surely it’s time we understand just because a woman is pregnant doesn’t mean she’s disabled and needs to be carried everywhere
Also, Naveli (Anjali2.0 and Neil’s cousin) is superrr suss
SHE TAPED HIS FACE OMG IM MORE IMPRESSED BY HER BY EVERY MINUTE
And she’s given him meds to give to the people he interacts with coz he causes them headaches (and he’s held onto it the whole time coz Pehle Pyaar Ka Pehla Tohfa)
Awww our OTP has ‘Bhags stamp of approval’
They’ve also touched her feet how cute
Episode 6
So Ghazala has ruined Chahat’s mum’s sharara and like this is what I mean they’ve written her horribly, like why would someone go out of their way to hurt a kid like that - her mother’s dead what more does she want
And daddy dearest has another pooja to attend so he’s said no to attending his daughter’s baby shower, something Neil is now salty about
For a doctor, Chahat’s dad is quite daft
And for a pandit, Neil’s dad is quite mean
Nice touch by Ghazala by turning this whole thing on Chahat, and thankfully her dad believes her
Episode 7
So this Kamini wannabe of a mami has said that Saraswati’s baby is najayaz, and at this point I really have got to ask - how the fuck did she jump to that conclusion?????
Apparently coz she was barren for 8 years, so how can she be pregnant now, so something must be up
The logic fails me here, IF SHE WAS BARREN/WAS UNABLE TO GET PREGNANT, HOW TF IS THE CHILD ILLEGITIMATE???
OMFLLLLLL SHE’S SAYING THAT COZ THE CHILD WAS CONCEIVED FROM IVF, THAT’S WHY IT’S ILLEGITIMATE
I CANNOT
I’M SO CLOSE TO QUITTING
DO THESE DUMBASS PEOPLE NOT REALISE THAT AN IVF BABY IS ALSO A BLESSING IN ITSELF, IT’S NOT 100% GUARANTEED TO GET YOU PREGNANT EITHER BUT IT HELPS
By this logic they shouldn’t use annnnyyyy modern technology
I understand Neil now, and why he’s so done with this bullshit
YAAASSS NEIL, GO FUCK THEM UP
Look Chahat, I love you and all, but like listen to Neil when it comes to his crazy psychotic family
Also do not tell me like the Oberoi family, this whole family cannot have 1 smooth sailing function/party
We love a sibling duo that had to raise each other because their parents were dead/useless
I’m so fucking done, now not only does your doctor have to be of the same religion, he/she has to be from the same caste
YEH DOCTOR DHOOND RAHE HAI KE RISHTA
Neil’s trying to talk some sense to these people, but as usual, he gets shut down for talking sense
OMG HE’S COME OUT WITH FACCSSSS AND HAS GIVEN HIS DAD AN ULTIMATUM - His daughter or his dharm
Also by saying that if he’s so for modern technologies in other areas, why is he against iVF
Omg daddy pandit finally got some sense - this was an exhausting feat
Poor tacky Kamini, unlike the og, this one’s plans always fall short
Neil, take Saraswati and just get the fuck out of here, this dumbass mami has come with a plan and is not going to rest until one of these kids gets disowned
Episode 8
So Vyasji in a twisted turn of events has accepted Neil’s gf, as long as their kundlis meet
Let’s be real their stars ain’t aligning in this life
Chahat is talking to her mother through this windchime she made with her mother’s jhumke (I guess its a coping mechanisms) about how she’s gotten a cake ordered and needs to pick it up
The windchime has told her that she needs to learn how to cook to get married
Basically even if your Indian mother is dead, her ghost will still taunt you on your inability to get married even when you are a doctor
She has decided she will marry a chef so that she doesnt need to learn how to cook
The foreshadowing, the cluelessness
Omg Neil’s dad writes with ink and a peacock feather (why did I think this man would write with a pen like a normal person)
He’s literally whipped out a chart and started making Neil’s (ex)gf’s kundli RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS DAUGHTER’S BABY SHOWER BECAUSE #priorities
Anjali2.0 is literally sitting there praying as if Vyasji is sitting there calculating her Year 12 results and not a kundli
And we’ve got an “asambhav”, but we all knew that - Neil’s literally smirking coz he knew no matter what, the stars won’t align
Omlll he’s inherited the whole “I write my own destiny” from Arnav
“Main uss ladko ko kabhi nahi apnaunga” “Toh kya faraq padta hai, main usse apna chuka hoon” Boisss I really like this dude
I wish I had this confidence but alas, I do not
And Neil has decided to leave the chat, go to Delhi and get married there, while giving everyone a fuck you (except his sister ofcourse)
Little does he know he isn’t even gonna make it to the bloody bus stand before he ends back here
Anjali2.0 is begging her dad to stop him, but he’s talking about the stars and shit
And right on cue Chahat and Neil are walking on the same bridge, none of them paying attention, they crash and just like that, the cake has fallen into the deep sea, adding to the pollution
OMGG THIS MAN TOLD HER HOW ALL DADS ARE USELESS AND SHE GOES “oh hello, tumhe bohot saare childhood issues hai, lekin mere baba aise nahi hai ... woh mere liye taare bhi tod sakte hai”
THIS IS WHY WE NEEDED A FEMALE LEAD IN THE MEDICAL FIELD - SHE UNDERSTOOD WITHIN 2-3 MEETINGS HOW FUCKED UP OUR DUDE IS
and now he’s sarcastically congratulating her on her father because “aur ek mere baba hai jo hamesha taaron mein uljhe rehte hai, aur vaise tumhe tumhaare taare todne waale baba, bohot, bohot, bohot hi ziada mubarak”
LOLLL SHE’S PULLING AND DRAGGING HIM TO GET HER THE SAME CAKE AND HE TRIED TO GIVE HER MONEY TO BUY A NEW ONE, AND SHE’S LIKE NOPE, THE BAKERY I GET THIS FROM IS CLOSED AND SO YOU WILL PROVIDE ME WITH A NEW CAKE
Lolll I never knew he will be stuck here because of a cake
AND NOW SHE’S TAKEN HIS BAG AS HOSTAGE AND HE’S LITERALLY SCREAMING THAT SHE’S LOST THE PLOT
But personally, I feel she gained it
Turns out the shop that she got the cake from, is his friend’s shop, and now he’s baking the cake himself because my man is also a pastry chef
And he’s friend has left the chat because he doesnt want to get beaten up
So it’s time for the kitchen romance.tm
Omg he told her he’s a chef and she’s so turned on
OMGGGGGGG IM DEDDD
But should’t she tie her hair #justsaying
Now back to the Neil’s crazy fam, where the only other person with sense, Anjali2.0 has also said to her dad, that Neil was always right about him
Yesss gurlll, give it back to him
She’s telling him off how he forego his religious beliefs for her, but why can’t he do the same for Neil
I actually like her so much and the way she’s written
She’s also telling him how she tried to make sure that Neil never felt their mother’s absence (a responsibility she didn’t to take up), because her dad never let Neil feel loved
OMG SIS SAID THAT BY BEING HEAD PRIEST, YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN YOUR DUTY AS A FATHER AND SHE DID NOT STUTTER
Everyone is shook (including me)
I was not expecting her to give her father an ultimatum
So she said, that if he does not give Neil and Meera his blessing, he will see her dead
OMGGG WHYYYAYFOIHFBEI THE ANXIETY
Episode 9
We’ve begun with some cuteness regarding her rubbing flour all over face
And like the idiot he is, he’s told her that her face is completely clean
OMGGG HE’S GUIDING HER HANDS
HOLY SHIT SISSS IS ALREADY IMAGINING HERSELF BEING MARRIED TO HIM
Like same, but I also cannot
Also I’m lolling at the fact she’s imagining their Nikaah, like his family won’t kill him for that
OMG THIS DICKHEAD HAS GIVEN THE CAKE HE MADE FOR HER DAD TO THE GAREEB CHILDREN LIKE SHE GAVE HIS SANGORIA TO THE GAREEB CHILDREN
Awww I spoke too soon, she left the cake at the shop and he was just messing with her
Guysss I really love their chemistry
He said that he won’t sit behind her, coz he doesn’t sit behind girls *rolls eyes*, but she’s not having it and reminded him that she beat him in a motorcycle race so he should suck it up
And they’ve had their first ‘accidental’ pressed up on each other fall
A trope I do love with all my heart
NOW HE’S COVERING HIS CHEST LIKE HIS IZZAT HAS BEEN LOOTED
I’m hoping that Shyam1.5 isn’t as bad as his predecessors, but I do realise that is wishful thinking coz the couple scene where he talks to Saraswati was quite sweet
OMG THERE’S AN INTRUDER IN THEIR HOUSE AND I REALLY DON’T WANT SARASWATI TO GO CHECK, AND I’M FREAKING OUT
She’s found Naveli’s earrings on the ground, Shyam1.5 and her are having an affair aren’t they
I FUCKING KNEW THAT NAVELI WAS SUSS AND SO WAS THIS HARAMKHOR SHYAM1.5
I AM SO GROSSED OUT RN, WHAT IS SHE 10 YEARS OR MORE YOUNGER THAN HIM
OMG HE’S ACTUALLY YUCK, LIKE SHYAM WAS YUCK BUT AT LEAST KHUSHI WASN’T HIS SAALI
AND WHAT TYPE OF COUSIN DOES THAT
Saraswati please go fuck him up
OMG OMG OMG YEH PADA THAPPAD!!!!!!!
Well that’s another week done
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So i was just re-reading 'Broken Vows' and I was wondering do you think the reader and Aemond ever told Ned about who his true father was or he just found out on his own? (also I am so sorry if you have already answered this question)
2nd Epilogue- Broken Vows
Part One Part Two Part Three First Epilogue
Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader
Rating: M (Mature) As always, minors please do not interact!
Warnings: Angst
Word count: About 800 (it’s a lil one!)
Synopsis: Your son learns the truth about his parentage.
Author’s note: Okay but for real this ask made me emotional. Broken Vows is my favorite thing I've ever written, literally a labor of love, and you're telling me that you liked it enough to read it more than once?? And it's on your mind enough that you have questions for me about it?? I am kissing you right on the forehead!! Please enjoy this drabble I wrote way back when I was writing the fic that I did not think anyone would be interested in!!
Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!
Aemond Masterlist
“Tell me the truth, mother!” your son yelled as tears streamed down his face.
“Oh, my little dragon heart,” you said gently as you reached for his hand.
He snatched it away and glared at you.
“I am no longer little. Tell me the truth of it!”
You took a deep steadying breath. “Ned, whatever you have heard, you do not need to heed the words of gossipers-”
“Tell me!” he yelled just as Aemond strode into your shared chambers.
You sat down heavily and placed a hand on your pregnant belly.
“Why are you raising your voice at my wife?” Aemond asked sharply as he came to your side.
“She is my mother and-”
“She was mine long before she was ever your mother, you best show her respect and watch your tongue, boy,” Aemond said angrily as he placed a hand on your shoulder.
The twelve year old boy blinked in shock and disbelief, both at Aemond’s words and his harsh tone that he never used with his children.
Though, Aemond has always been vicious in his protection of you.
“Aemond,” you protested softly, but he did not turn to you. He instead continued to stare at his son.
“T-that’s not true, is it? She- she was married to my father first. Mother, tell me it is not true, please,” he said with tears in his eyes as he fell to his knees before you.
“Ned,” you said gently as you ran your fingers through his snow white hair.
“Am I a bastard?” he asked as tears streamed down his young face.
You looked up at Aemond and he nodded, letting you know that he agreed with you that it was time to tell him the truth.
“You were born of love. That is all that matters,” you said gently.
He shook his head and tears streamed down his cheeks, still chubby with youth.
Aemond sat down next to you and placed a gentle hand on Ned’s shoulder.
“So it is true? You are my true father?” he asked Aemond.
Aemond nodded.
Ned buried his face in your lap and wrapped his arms around your waist as he sobbed.
“Is that why you have always called me your little dragon heart when we are alone?” he asked, his voice muffled by your skirts.
“Yes, you were born of the love between Aemond and I. The timing does not matter-”
“It matters!” he exclaimed as he sobbed again.
You sighed.
“It matters,” Aemond agreed. “Your last name is Stark instead of Targaryen as it should be. Your claim to Winterfell will always be questioned due to the color of your hair and your resemblance to me and your younger siblings. And unfortunately, you will not have a dragon as Targaryens should.”
“Why would you do this to her? To me?” Ned accused him in a harsh tone.
“It is more complicated than you understand or need to know right now,” you said gently.
He sniffled.
“Not many children can say they were born of love rather than duty,” you consoled as you ran your fingers through your son’s hair once again.
“It will be alright, son. We will deal with any difficulties together as a family,” Aemond said and Ned nodded before he unwrapped himself from you and stood.
He looked at Aemond, who smiled softly at him.
“You have called me father since shortly after you learned to speak as I wed your mother when you were only three years of age. Nothing has changed,” Aemond reassured him as he stood.
Ned sought refuge in his father’s chest as he hugged him and Aemond squeezed him lovingly.
“Do not worry on this anymore, my little dragon heart,” you said and he nodded as he turned back to you.
He looked back at Aemond.
“I am sorry I raised my voice at you, mother,” he said shamefully.
“I know you are,” you said as you raised your face in a gesture he knew meant you expected him to kiss you on the cheek. He complied with a sheepish smile.
“Go on,” Aemond said as he ruffled his hair.
Once Ned left, Aemond sat next to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.
His hand rubbed your growing belly as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.
You melted into his touch.
“That was a difficult conversation,” you sighed.
He nodded.
“It was inevitable though,” he said.
“I just thought he would be older before we would have to tell him,” you lamented.
“I am surprised it took this long,” he said.
You sighed again.
“It will be alright, dear heart. We will deal with any hardships together,” he comforted you as he pulled you onto his lap.
You nodded.
“Kiss me again,” you asked.
“Of course, lovely wife,” he said before he pressed his lips to yours.
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#hotd#broken vows
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honey part 1
neighbor!Joshua x Reader
words: 3.9k
Summary: it would be safe to say that if it weren’t for you moving across the street from Joshua Hong, you probably wouldn’t have met him. Nor would he have become your best friend.
Genre: hecka fluff right now but I swear its angst if you start to squint and wait for part two
Warnings: none
A/N: so this is only part one (obviously) but I’ve been wanting to publish this since I started writing it and couldn’t wait to finish it. I would highly recommend listening to “Reminisce about All” by Onewe when reading, it captures the overall feeling of the fic. thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy~
~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello! My name is Joshua, but you can call me Josh, and I live across the street,” the cute boy who had appeared unwarranted at your door introduced himself as he waved at your flustered expression.
“I’m going to be a freshman this coming year, by the way. What’s your name?”
You may have only just met Hong Jisoo, but his cat-shaped almond eyes and bright smile made your heart flutter as he stood there with a kind expression, waiting for you to respond.
“My name is Y/N,” you managed to stutter out, “Oh, and I’m going to be in seventh grade. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
“So, Y/N, do you like the neighborhood so far? I know there’s not many other kids around here but it’s not too bad, and I’m sure we can hang out too so it should hopefully be fun,” Joshua’s arm was scratching the back of his neck, something you began to pick up on as a sign of nerves.
“Well I did only moved in yesterday, so it’s kinda just been some unpacking…”
Despite the kind intentions, the conversation was choppy at best. It’s not like you expected an in-depth conversation when your parents had summoned you from your unpacking to “meet the neighbor’s son that was so nice to stop by”. In actuality, his parents sent him over in the hopes of Joshua acquiring a friend in the neighborhood, not on Joshua’s own accord.
If you were being honest, there was no way that this conversation would go well. You were an awkward, introverted 13-year-old who had never even socialized with classmates outside of school. You were merely hoping to survive this awkward greeting to escape back to your bedroom, where you were unpacking the remainder of your posters and wall decorations.
Why do parents love torturing their children? You were most definitely going to ask your parents later why they thought it would be a genius idea to let you talk to the neighborhood kid, not to mention he was a boy, all by yourself. You peered up at his tanned face, as Joshua met your gaze in a way that made you wonder if he too was inquiring about the same topic.
“Do you wanna come outside and hang out?”
Your eyes widened at the bold and brash statement, and you failed to hide your shocked expression before Joshua noticed.
“I mean, I guess you did say you were unpacking. Nevermind that was stupid of me to ask,” his shoulders shrunk as his face became that of disappointment and embarrassment.
You would be a liar if you said he didn’t look cute with his face and ears tinted pink.
“Um, I think I can take a break from unpacking,” you smiled up at his taller frame.
His eyes lit up and the bright smile returned to his face.
Although the first interaction was still one of the clumsiest conversations you have ever held, the friendship between Jousha and you was anything but. That fated day concluded when the sun had set and you were being called back home for dinner, convenient seeing as how your house was directly across the street from his own.
The next day, you were much less startled when a teenage boy knocked on your door and asked if you would like to hang out.
From then on, the two of you were deemed inseparable and would hang out nearly every day. Sometimes the two of you would sit on the steps in front of his house discussing comics or the most recent episode of an anime, other days you would lay in the yard, cloud gazing and discussing whatever came to mind.
“Now that one definitely looks like a rabbit. The top cloud makes up the head and the one off to the side is the body. It even has feet!”
Your face contorted as you tried to see what Joshua was claiming to be a rabbit. Joshua leaned in closer to where you were laying as he pointed above your heads in the direction of the clouds he was referring to. You exclaimed proudly once you could spot the furry animal, your arms unwinding from behind your head to punch up into the air in excitement.
“It took you long enough,” Joshua smiled down at you teasingly.
“To be fair, that is one of the lumpiest rabbits I have ever seen in my life,” you retorted.
Once the days become shorter and the leaves begin to change color, you both came to the realization that summer does not last forever, despite how much you wished it would. The day you went to orientation, your heart sunk as the reality of the situation finally hit you: Joshua was in a higher grade. And not only that, he would be at the high school while you were stuck in middle school.
The two of you would no longer spend every second around each other, as classes, homework, and after-school activities would take up the majority of your time. You sulked through the orientation as friends greeted each other with excitement, comparing class schedules and lunches.
Even when you returned home and went to hang out with Joshua, you remained quieter than normal with a perpetual pout plastered on your face.
“--and he waved back at me even though I thought he didn’t remember me. But then Hansol said the same thing about me! Isn’t that hilarious Y/N?”
Joshua looked over to where you were seated, next to him under the wide oak tree, as you peered out into the rest of the neighborhood. Your eyes were unfocused as if you failed to hear anything he had just said.
“Hello! Earth to Y/N! Is anybody home?” Joshua waved his hand in front of your face until you blinked a few times, shaking your head to escape whatever trance you were under.
“I’m sorry Shua, I can’t focus today. What did you say?” You looked over to the older boy, clad in a bright yellow t-shirt and shorts that he wore to his orientation that day.
“What’s got you so down? You’ve been much quieter than usual and you haven’t smiled at any of my jokes today,” Joshua’s face morphed into one of concern as he maneuvered to sit right across from you.
“It’s nothing, really,” you tried to brush off his worry but your forced smile and shrug of your shoulders couldn’t fool Joshua, not after the two of you spent so much time together. He knew what you looked like when you were fine, and you were very much not fine.
“Try me,” he patiently sat, waiting for you to respond to his kind words.
You had developed a soft spot for Joshua over the past few months, and he really was the only person you felt like you could reliably trust to tell anything to. So, with even a little push, you caved.
“I--I mean--it’s just,” a heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to voice your worries, “While I was at orientation today it kind of just hit me that we won’t get to hang out as much once school starts and I won’t even see you at school, and you’re like my best friend and I don’t know I guess it hit me today and it made me really sad seeing everyone else and--”
Joshua managed to silence you when he placed a hand on your shoulder, giving your body a small shake.
“Hey Y/N, cheer up. It’s not like I’m moving away or anything. We still have to ride the bus together. And if you thought my mom would let me walk to the bus stop without waiting for you then you really must be oblivious to everything. Besides, won’t this just make when we do hang out even more special?”
You stared at his soft face, the smile that spread across his face warmed your heart and shut out all the worries that filled your head just moments ago. A halfhearted smile began to blossom on your face.
“I guess you’re right,” you sheepishly glanced into his eyes as he moved his hand that was on your shoulder to atop your head where he rested it. It was a common action that he began to do about midway through summer. He may have started it as a comment on your shorter frame in comparison to his, but it became a regular thing that occurred rather irregularly. It quickly became a comfort to you for some unknown reason, and Joshua seemed to pick up on that too.
So, you smiled up at him as he rested his hand atop your head and smiled down at you, the only worry plaguing your head being the upcoming summer book report you had failed to accomplish yet, despite having the summer to complete it.
Joshua did indeed live up to his words. The first day of school, the two of you had organized a time to meet outside of your houses to walk to the bus stop together.
After forcing yourself out of the comfort of your bed, you managed to get dressed and prepare for the exciting day ahead, exciting being a loose term. You walked out the front door and found Joshua waiting at the bottom of the stairs with his bag slung over one shoulder.
He hadn’t noticed your presence yet and you took the moment to admire how good he looked dressed nice enough for the first day, but just messily enough to appear as though he didn’t put too much thought into his appearance.
Whoever he was trying to impress better admire him because you definitely were.
When you finally realized that you were ogling at your best friend and neighbor, you hurried down the steps to stand promptly in front of Joshua.
“So, what do you think?” You asked him, gesturing to your outfit. A casual flowy skirt and t-shirt covered your body and a pair of sneakers topped off your first day of school outfit.
Joshua gave you a quick glance before nodding his head, “You look nice. Ready to walk to the bus stop?”
Your cheeks tinted pink and you were happy for the dim light that surrounded the two of you. You nodded your head and began to follow after Joshua’s lead.
The two of you managed to walk to the bus stop with much ease, seen as how Joshua had traversed the same path for two years already. While everyone else at the bus stop was silent, the two of you were stood waiting for the bus and talking.
You would have been extremely anxious for the new school day but Joshua’s constant conversation with you filled your head with words and jokes to the point that you forgot that it was the first day of school. By the time the bus had arrived, the sky had begun to lighten up and you could easily make out all of the features on Joshua’s face as he talked animatedly towards you.
The bus was rather pact, and finding a completely empty seat for the two of you proved difficult, but manageable. You quickly took the window seat as Joshua closed you off from the center walkway.
“Most of the teachers that you have I actually had when I was in your grade, and they’re pretty chill. I mean, I didn’t always do my work but if you actually focus they’ll love you,” Joshua was turned towards you to continue the conversation you two were having.
“Ok, cool. So I’m gonna totally be fine. And today will just be introductions so I have no need to worry,” you smiled up at him, reassuring yourself with your words.
“Exactly. And I’ll see you after school on the bus so you can tell me all about it!”
Joshua was right about that, as he always was. The day flew by and you had no issues at all with any of your classes. You found him on the bus talking with some upperclassmen once school was out. And that became your guys’ routine.
The two of you would walk to the bus together, sit by each other on the bus, find each other after school, and walk home together. Conversations were filled with the school day, friend drama, and home life. And Joshua seemed to be right yet again. You cherished the time you did spend with him even more than when it was summer.
He seemed to make the days a bit more manageable.
And while your friends at school were developing crushes on fellow peers, you seemed to be developing a crush on Joshua. The realization came to you slowly, but surely.
You found yourself in your bedroom one school night when it hit you. The problems of having a crush on Joshua, though, became evident rather quickly to you. For one, he was your best friend, and why would you want to destroy that. For two, he was your neighbor. If things went poorly between you two, you would still have to see him every day.
It was quick to say that you shoved whatever feeling you had into the deepest darkest place of your heart, hoping to stifle it before it blossomed into more.
A year later you managed to find your first relationship shortly after Joshua had found himself one. As much as a small part of you wished it was Joshua that you were dating, it was in fact not.
A classmate, Jeon Jeongkook, confessed his feelings for you one fateful day and asked you to be his girlfriend. You found yourself saying yes, despite being unsure of your feelings.
The relationship itself wasn’t special. You would eventually come to consider it one of the failed middle school relationships that occur within the early teen years. Joshua, on the other hand, managed to find himself in a stable and happy relationship.
You wanted to be happy for him, you really did. But not only did it pain you to see him happy with someone else, his girlfriend managed to steal your best friend from you.
So there you found yourself, alone for the first time in over a year, without a best friend and without someone to talk to.
By the time summer had arrived, though, Joshua found himself a single teen and you found yourself with a best friend again. You welcomed him back with open arms, and any sadness you felt while you were alone had dissipated the second he knocked on your door asking to hang out.
The following summer was like that of years past, and the two of you went back to being inseparable. You managed to survive eighth grade with ease, despite your first relationship tanking, and were looking forward to your first year as a proper high schooler.
Joshua was heading into his junior year of high school, and it was fair to say that he had only grown more attractive. Not only did you notice, but other girls also began to take notice of your neighborhood best friend. He somehow managed to grow even taller, and his shoulders had widened out. His cat-like eyes had become an even warmer shade of brown, and his black hair swooped over his face in a charming sort of manner.
You were whipped and could only hope that Joshua would fail to notice.
You laid under the same wide oak tree that the two of you designated as your space many years ago, waiting for Joshua to return from fetching his guitar. Eyes fixated on the cloudy sky above, you managed to find shapes with ease as you reminisced of the many times Joshua and you would laugh out loud at your findings.
“Aren’t you a bit old to be cloud gazing?” Joshua’s voice called at you from nearby, but you didn’t move your gaze.
“Didn’t you used to do this with me when you were my age?” You retorted quickly, a smile taking shape on your lips with ease.
“Touche,” Joshua’s voice was much closer as he sat down in the grass next to your figure, guitar in hand.
“What song was it that you wanted to show me? Also, that cloud definitely looks like an airplane crashing into a mountain,” you pointed towards the sky as Joshua tuned his guitar.
“It’s called ‘Sunday Morning’ by Maroon 5. If you don’t know it then you should,” Joshua glanced over at you before he began to play.
The soft chords meshed with Joshua’s voice to create a beautiful sound, one that made you finally look over to where he was sitting. His legs were criss-cross and his guitar sat comfortably in his lap as he strummed. Joshua was looking out into the neighborhood as he sang softly yet confidently.
As you lay there, hair and body sprawled out into the grass, you admired him. You only managed to half-listen to him, admiring the fact that such a beautiful person was your best friend, and that he was here sitting next to you, singing on a warm afternoon.
When Joshua ceased to sing and play, you were taken by surprise, not realizing that the song had already finished.
“How was it?” He looked over to you, meeting your gaze with a humble smile.
You looked away, a small blush taking form on your face and cleared your throat to respond to him.
“It was good. Really good.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend Y/N,” Joshua began to pout.
“No, I would tell you if your playing was out of tune or if your voice was pitchy,” you sat up to speak to him more directly, a coy smile on your face, “Actually, now that I think about it your playing was garbage and you can’t sing at all.”
“Hey! No need to be sarcastic either.”
Moments like these made your heart flutter with a small ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe, he liked you too. It’s not like he puts on mini-concerts for just anybody, but then again you aren’t just anybody to him.
And throughout the years you became reminded of such more often. It wasn’t until a year later where your relationship with Joshua became what Facebook would consider ‘complicated’.
It was the last summer before you would lose Joshua to the real world. He had one more year of high school and then he would be off to college, where he decided to pursue music education. He once told you that he wanted to help other people find a passion for music as he did when he was younger.
As the two of you had grown and matured, you both had moved on from the days where you would play tag and cloud gaze. Now that the two of you were older, his parents had invested in a pool that you two frequented more than not.
You would spend your days in an endless cycle of tanning, swimming, and all-around messing around in the water before you would be beckoned home for dinner.
After a long day of swimming and attempting to submerge Joshua in the water, ultimately leading to you being submerged more than him, your parents had hollered at you from across the street that dinner was ready. You begrudgingly left the cool water and wrapped a towel around yourself before padding your feet in the direction of your house.
“Y/N,” Joshua had called out from behind you and ran over to where you stood.
“I’ll be back here tomorrow around the same time unless I sleep past twelve. Which, to be fair, is a good possibility,” you turned and smiled up at your best friend.
His hair was matted to his face by the water, some of which was dripping off of his carved face as you stared at him for longer than you should have. It was rather obvious that you liked him when something as simple as him being shirtless made you blush and avert your gaze.
“Are you really going to leave me without a hug? Cruel,” Joshua certainly made the comment with sarcasm, but even the thought of hugging him led you to blame the sun for your warm face.
His arms opened wide to bring you into his warm and wet embrace. You leaned into his body and held on for longer than one might deem appropriate, but you didn’t want to let go.
Joshua pulled you back away from him but still held your smaller frame in his lean arms. You glanced up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, wondering what he was doing. But once your eyes met, you forgot what you were even thinking. Joshua was looking down at you with a fondness in his eyes that you don’t recall seeing moments ago.
And that’s where you and Joshua stayed, for what honestly felt like millennia. Joshua had never held you in his arms like this before, and he had never looked at you the way he was right now.
Your heart was hammering in your chest so furiously that you were convinced he could hear it.
“Y/N! Dinner is ready hurry on home.”
And as quickly as that interaction began, it was finished. At the sound of your mother’s voice, Joshua released you from his arms and tore his gaze from you to the grass in his yard. You jumped from surprise and looked away as well.
“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess,” Joshua stuttered out a goodbye but you only caught part of it before you took off for your house.
You spent the remainder of the night and the following day attempting to interpret what that interaction meant. If your mother hadn’t called you for dinner at that exact moment, what would have happened? Would he have shoved you away either way? Or would something more have happened?
Your thoughts tormented you until you fell asleep and the next day you evaded every text that pinged your phone under the name ‘Shua’ until the same man knocked on your front door. One of your parents grabbed the door and called you out of your bedroom.
You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, facing the one person who has been on your mind all day.
“Y/N! Are you okay? You didn’t come over today and you didn’t answer any of my texts. Are you sick? Did you get hurt?”
The second Joshua saw you at the entrance to the house, he began his interrogation on you. Of course, it was like him to assume that you weren’t avoiding him. Over the duration of your friendship, you’ve merely argued back and forth jokingly, never once having a reason to avoid one another.
At that moment you realized that maybe you were just overthinking things. That moment was a figment of your imagination, and that your feelings led to you thinking that something was going to happen.
“I’m okay, ‘Shua. I was just feeling a little sick, but I’m all good,” you smiled up at the dark-haired boy, “wanna hang out and you can show me that song you were working on the other day?”
Hearing your response led to Joshua mirroring your own expression, that being enough of an answer.
#Seventeen#svt#svt fanfic#seventeen fanfic#joshua#joshua hong#hong jisoo#jisoo#s coups#jeonghan#jun#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#mingyu#the8#dk#vernon#dino#seungkwan#svt-mangos
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Bedtime
I’ve really been in a writing mood these last few days, so here I am again writing late at night. Thank you to the anon who sent me a few prompts for giving me the prompt for this one. This is just a super fluffy story about bedtime with the Shepherd children.
Bedtime
“What was that?” asked April as Meredith placed a cheesecake in the middle of the table. Meredith, Amelia, and Maggie had decided to host a dinner party at the house for their friends when they had realized that, by some miracle, they all had the same night off. April, Arizona, Owen, Alex, and Jo sat with them around the table, sharing an evening of laughter and friendship. They had just gotten going on the subject of DeLuca and his relationship with the intern when their conversation was interrupted by a crashing noise.
“Oh crap, it’s probably the kids,” Meredith said as she began to cut the cheesecake anyway. “What time is it anyway? They’re probably starting to get tired and cranky.”
“It’s 8:45,” Amelia replied. “I’ll go up and put them to bed while you serve the cheesecake.”
“That’s probably a good idea. They’ll go down better for you. I can’t remember the last time I read them a bedtime story without hearing, ‘Mommy, do it like Auntie Amy! She does it better.’” Meredith rolled her eyes, and the rest of the table chuckled.
“Hey, don’t blame me for being the master of the princess voice,” Amelia said, winking at Meredith before standing from the table and heading up the stairs to go corral the Shepherd children.
As Amelia stepped into Zola’s bedroom, she was not surprised to find the three children sitting on the floor amongst a massive pile of toys. Bailey and Zola were smashing some cars and dolls together, and Ellis was sitting off to the side tiredly messing with a doll. “Alright, my favorite nieces and nephew in Seattle, it’s time to start packing up for the night.”
Zola regarded her skeptically. “Auntie Amy, we’re your only nieces and nephew in Seattle.”
“You’re still my favorite!” Amelia responded with a wide smile as she bent down to kiss Zola’s head. “How about we start packing this stuff up?” Amelia said cheerily. She found that cheerful tones went a long way when trying to get the kids to cooperate at bedtime. The happy voice seemed to work. Bailey and Zola began to pick up the toys and place them into baskets without argument. As Amelia helped them pick up the toys, she glanced toward Ellis and noticed that the toddler was nearly asleep. “Bailey, Zozo, your sister is pretty zonked,” Amelia said as she scooped Ellis off the floor and into her arms. “I’m going to go put her to bed while you guys finish cleaning up in here, and then I’ll be back for bedtime stories and goodnight kisses.”
Amelia carried the toddler to the bathroom, quickly brushed her teeth, and then took her to her bedroom and changed her into her pajamas. Ellis managed to stay awake for the whole process, but only barely. “Alright, my dear, let’s get you into bed,” said Amelia as she placed a kiss on the child’s cheek. Amelia pulled the covers back and set Ellis into the bed, then pulled the covers up to her chin and stroked her hair. She expected Ellis to immediately close her eyes and be asleep within moments, but instead was met with wide eyes and tears.
Amelia sighed deeply. She had forgotten about this particular challenge. Just two days ago Meredith had removed the crib from the toddler’s bedroom and added a full-size bed in its place. Ellis was still adjusting to her “big girl” bed, and bedtime had been rough the last two nights. “Oh, sweetie, is it scary in your big new bed?” Amelia asked, stroking the girl’s cheek and attempting to wipe some of the tears away. Ellis nodded. “Would it be less scary if Auntie Amy laid down with you for a little while until you got comfortable?” Another nod.
Amelia pulled back the covers, picked up Ellis, climbed into the bed, and settled the two of them into the bed. Almost immediately, the cries turned into soft whimpering as Ellis breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of her aunt’s shampoo.
As everyone downstairs laughed boisterously, their cheesecake consumed and plates cleared, Owen glanced up at the clock. “It’s nearly 9:30,” he said. “Shouldn’t Amelia be finished putting the kids to bed by now?”
“I can go up and check on her,” replied Meredith who had been in the middle of a story about a silly thing an intern had done.
“No, you stay and finish your story, I’ll go see what’s up,” Owen said as he stood up from the table and headed toward the stairs. He climbed the stairs and headed to Zola’s room where he could see light coming from underneath the door. When he stepped into the room, he was surprised to see Zola and Bailey alone in the room, sitting on the floor chatting. “Where’s your Auntie Amy?” he asked.
Zola looked up at him with curious eyes. “She said she was putting Ellis to bed, but that was a long time ago. I don’t know where she is now.”
“Have you brushed your teeth yet?” Owen asked. Both children shook their heads. “Okay, why don’t you brush your teeth and change into pajamas while I go see where Auntie Amy is. We’ll be back to tuck you in.” Both children wordlessly stood up from the floor and headed down the hall to the bathroom. Owen followed them out of the bedroom and walked to the bedroom at the end of the hall to see what was taking Amelia so long with Ellis.
Owen opened the door, and he swore he could feel his heart clench at the sight that greeted him. The room was dimly lit, bathed only in the soft glow of the lamp on the night stand. Amelia lay in the bed on her back, sound asleep with a sleeping Ellis cuddled up on her chest. Ellis had a fistful of Amelia’s shirt in her hand, and Amelia’s hand rested protectively on the child’s back.
Owen took a minute to admire the sight. One of the things he loved most about Amelia was how naturally caring for children came to her and how much she loved her nieces and nephew. He didn’t get to see her interact with Bailey, Zola, and Ellis as much as he used to, and he always considered it a treat when he got the opportunity to witness her bond with them.
Owen walked slowly to the side of the bed and paused for a moment as he attempted to figure out the best way to get Ellis off of Amelia without waking the child. After a bit of consideration, he carefully peeled back the blankets and then slowly and gently removed Amelia’s hand from her niece’s back. As Owen carefully slid his hands under Ellis and lifted her off of Amelia’s chest, Amelia’s eyes began to open. “Owen, what’s-” Amelia began to ask, but she was cut off by Owen gently shushing her.
“Shhh, you’ll wake Ellis,” he whispered. “Why don’t you climb out of the bed before I set her down so the jostling of the bed doesn’t wake her?” Amelia nodded and slowly stood up from the bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she did so. Once she had stood up, Owen gently placed Ellis back onto the bed, pulled the covers back up over her, and then kissed the top of her head before stepping back from the bed. Amelia turned around and headed for the door so Owen wouldn’t see the huge smile that overtook her face as she watched him care for her niece so effortlessly and lovingly.
Owen chuckled as the pair stepped out into the hallway. “You know, when you said you were putting the kids to bed, I didn’t think you meant you were going to bed too,” Owen teased.
Amelia gently pushed his arm. “I had a long day at the hospital, and then Ellis wouldn’t go to sleep if I didn’t get in bed with her,” Amelia whined. “I closed my eyes so she would too, and I must’ve fallen asleep.”
Owen laughed again as they made their way down the hall. “We’ve still got two more to put to bed. Do you think you can manage to get Zola to bed without falling asleep yourself while I put Bailey down?” Amelia stuck her tongue out at him as she entered Zola’s room.
“Alright, Bailey boy,” Owen said as he opened the door and strode into Bailey’s room, “are you all ready for bed? Do you have your teeth brushed and pajamas on?” Bailey nodded emphatically. He had a special spot in his heart for his Uncle Owen, and he always went to great lengths to impress him. For his part, Owen noticed and did his best to heap praise onto all of Bailey’s efforts.
“Great job, Bailey!” Owen said enthusiastically. “You’re so good at taking care of business.” He pulled back the blankets and stepped aside so Bailey had access to the side of the bed. “Now how about you hop in and I’ll get you all tucked in?” Bailey obediently scrambled up into the bed and laid down so that Owen could pull the blankets up over him. “Good night, little man. I love you lots,” Owen whispered before kissing Bailey’s forehead.
“Night, Uncle Owen. Love you,” Bailey whispered as he wrapped his tiny arms around Owen’s neck and hugged him. Owen smiled broadly as he walked out of Bailey’s room. He didn’t get to put the Shepherd kids to bed often, but he always enjoyed it when he had the opportunity.
Owen looked across the hall and found the door to Zola’s room open. He quietly crossed the hall and stopped in the doorway to Zola’s room so that he could witness the interaction between aunt and niece. Neither seemed to be aware of his presence. Zola was sitting in bed, looking up at Amelia who was standing beside the bed. “Will you read me a bedtime story, Auntie Amy?” Zola asked.
Amelia took a deep breath. “It’s very late, Zozo. I meant to get you guys to bed much earlier, but I was in your sister’s room for a lot longer than I should have been. Could you do Auntie Amy a big favor? Do you think you could fall asleep tonight without a bedtime story since it’s so late?” Amelia widened her eyes and tilted her head to the side a bit.
Zola looked at Amelia for a couple seconds before nodding solemnly. “Yeah, I can do that for you, Auntie Amy,” she said seriously.
“Oh, thank you, Zo! You’re my best helper. I always know I can count on you when things get a little crazy.” Amelia pulled the covers up over her niece.
“You’re welcome,” Zola replied as she snuggled down into the covers. “I love you, Auntie Amy.”
“I love you too, Miss Zozo,” Amelia whispered before kissing Zola’s forehead. “Good night.” With one last caress of Zola’s head, Amelia stepped away from the bed and turned toward the door. She was surprised to see Owen standing in the doorway, smiling widely. Owen stepped out of the doorway and into the hall to allow Amelia to exit the room.
As Amelia pulled the door shut behind her, Owen began to speak. “Sorry I stood there so long. I just couldn’t help watching you and Zola. You’re such a good aunt, Amelia. The kids are very lucky to have you.”
“You’re not such a bad uncle,” Amelia teased with a smirk. “Really, though, I’m glad the kids have you in their lives. It’s nice to have a man around every now and then when it’s normally just all of us women taking care of them. They’re lucky to have such a good male role model.”
Owen didn’t say anything in response, choosing to hug her instead. They stood there in the hallway for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms and thinking wistfully about how much they loved watching each other with the children. Owen sighed as he let his arms drop from around Amelia and stepped back. “Should we get back to the dinner table?” he asked, looking down at Amelia and tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, we probably should,” she answered before taking his hand and heading toward the stairs.
#omelia#omeliafic#omeliafanfic#amelia shepherd#owen hunt#meredith grey#zola shepherd#bailey shepherd#ellis shepherd#grey's anatomy#greys anatomy
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