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bluewhale52 · 3 years

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The House by the River

Summary: You, your husband and his brothers are back in the In The Soop house. But what happens when you forget the one thing you have to do during the pandemic?

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: idol!au, established relationship, fluff

Rating: R - there’s a bit of a talk about sex but nothing NSFW

WC: 2.3k

Warning: setting during the pandemic, a breach of safety protocol, Yoongi and OC sleep naked, talk of sex, pregnancy talk ~Part of the Domestic Yoongi Series~

It is a great idea, you have to admit. When your husband found out that he had two straight days of no schedules and no work, he immediately suggested going back to the house by the river, where he and his brothers had gone to for work and also for a time of healing and relaxation.

You were so excited at the getaway idea, and although his six brothers invited themselves for the trip, you did not mind. Your daughter adores them, moreover you would have six very eager babysitters at your disposal.

So that’s how you find yourself, on a beautiful autumn day, on a hammock and reading a book Namjoon has lent you. You hear Jimin and Taehyung back at the ping pong table, and Hoseok screaming gleefully at his toy aeroplane he has built himself. Sweet musical notes drift from the house; Namjoon and Jungkook must have gotten inspiration in nature and are creating a song together.

You hear the familiar giggles coming from the dock, and you close your book. Leaving the hammock, you head to the boathouse to meet the owners of those giggles.

Your little girl is smiling ear to ear, and shrieking in delight at Seokjin, who is carrying a bucket and two fishing rods- well, one fishing rod and a toy one. He has been regaling your daughter with stories of fishing, it was not difficult at all to get her all excited to be his fishing buddy.

“Hey baby,” you kneel as your daughter barel into your arms. “Did you catch a lot of fish?”

“Four!” She happily exclaims, wriggling out of your arms to pull Seokjin closer to you. “Look, Eomma!”

“She’s my good luck charm. Not Yoongi, not my painting, Min Soojin was all I needed to show these fish who’s boss!” He ruffles her hair. She beams at him proudly.

“Wow! Are we having sashimi tonight?” You turn to find Hoseok right behind you, peering into the bucket. He turns to your daughter, innocently asking her, “you’re going to help Uncle Jin and Uncle Kook cut the fish?”

Soojin’s face immediately turns serious, her smile all gone. “Cut? Eomma?” She turns to you. “We cut fishies?”

“Well, that’s how we get sashimi, baby.”

Her face crumples at your answer, tears start pooling in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to hurt fishies.”

The two men immediately bend down and soothe her. “No, no, we won’t cut the fishies. Uncle Hoseok is just joking, right?” Seokjin gives Hoseok a stare.

“Yes, I was only joking, Soojin-ah.” Hoseok cuddles her. “Hey, do you want to see the plane I made?”

Soojin shakes her head. “No, I want to take fishies home so you don’t cut her.”

Hoseok resigns to his fate. He knows now your four year old daughter will see him as an evil villain, out to cut all the fish in the world.

“Baby,” you coo at Soojin. “Why don’t you, Uncle Jin and Uncle Hobi return the fish to the river?”

Seokjin glares at you. You know how challenging it was for him to catch even a single fish on his last trip here, and on the day he caught FOUR, he can’t even enjoy one as a sashimi.

Hoseok on the other hand, jumps at his chance of redemption. “Yes, that’s a great idea! Let’s do that, Soojin. Let’s free the fish!”

Soojin looks at Hoseok doubtfully. He grabs the bucket from Seokjin and offers his hand to your daughter. She gingerly puts her hand in his, and her other hand reaches for Seokjin’s.

Over your daughter’s head, Seokjin whispers sharply at Hoseok. “YOU put the fish back.”

You watch them squat by the dock, laughing along with Seokjin and Soojin as Hoseok squeals in disgust as he picks a fish out of the bucket and throws it inelegantly into the river. After the fourth fish is back in the water, Soojin is satisfied and her mood is back to her cheery self.

You look at your watch. 5pm. It’s time to get your husband out of his makeshift studio. “Soojin, want to see Appa?” You call out.

“No! Plane!” She points at Hoseok who is winding his toy plane again.

“Go get Yoongi. We’ll look after her.” Seokjin offers, and you give him a grateful smile. It IS nice to have your husband’s band mates around.

You walk up towards the campervan by the upper house. Your husband specifically made the request for the van to be there. You knock on the door, and you open it only after you hear his gruff response from inside.

“Hey babe,” you greet him from the door. “It’s just past five.”

Yoongi stretches behind the laptop and all his equipments. Rubbing his face, he mumbles, “Already?”

You open the door wider, letting more sun inside the dark campervan. “Did you manage to get all your work done?”

Yoongi gestures for you to come inside. You step in, and sit next to him. “Wanna hear?” He offers.

“Of course.” You take the headphones from his hands. You love how he always shares his rough drafts with you, even before he shares them with his members. It doesn’t matter that you know zilch about music, he loves watching you reacting to his creations.

He presses play, and your eyes widen at the sounds filling your ears. You turn to smile at him, pride on your face. He returns your smile with his own gummy one.

You love this kind of moment with Yoongi. You don’t need dates at fancy restaurants or expensive gifts like big diamond necklaces. Just time with him, alone like this, is enough. He watches you bopping along to his music, and burst out laughing in embarrassment as you scrunch your face at his attempt at a high note.

When the song ends, you take off the headphone and kiss him. “Well, Min PD-nim, I think you have another hit there.”

“You say that to all my songs.” He brushes away your compliment as he starts packing up his things.

“Well, it’s true. I’m not just saying that because you’re my husband.” You stand and move to the door to give him more space in the cramped sitting area of the campervan. You report to him about Soojin’s fishing experience earlier while Yoongi is putting his equipments in the bags.

“So Hobi actually held the fish?” Yoongi chuckles.

You nod. “I regret not capturing it on video. It was so funny.” You open the door and you both walk towards the upper house. “OH MY GOD!”

You exclaim as you see the state of the kitchen. Yoongi curses next to you.

All the foods you have bought for the stay are scattered all over the counter and the floor. Packages ripped open, vegetables and fruits half eaten.

“Oh no, did an animal- or a pack of them- get in?” You lift a bag of bitten and nibbled onions. “They like onions it seems.”

Your husband sighs. “Guess we’ll have to go out for dinner then. There’s no way we can salvage any of this.”

You agree with him and start cleaning up. Shortly after, the kitchen is clean and free of scraps, and you both return to the main house to break the news. The members don’t seem to mind going out, Taehyung even suggests going to the burger joint he visited with Hoseok before. Seokjin and Yoongi decide they could stop by a supermarket on the way back to get enough food for breakfast and lunch for the next day.

And so off the nine of you go to the town for a burger dinner. Arriving at the small restaurant, you are shocked at how crowded it is. “Wow, the burgers here must be really good.” You comment to Taehyung.

He nods, licking his lips. “One of the best, Noona. You’ll love it.”

You smile at his enthusiasm, and also when he picks up Soojin to show her the menu board.

Then you realize something.

Your heart drops when you realise that no one, not a single person is wearing a mask. The staff, the patrons, and even you, your husband and his brothers, and your daughter, none of you is masked up.

You start to panic. Reaching for Yoongi, you tug his hand. “Babe, we’re not wearing our masks!”

“Relax, baby, we’re fine. No one recognizes us here.”

“No! Yoongi, not to hide your faces. The pandemic isn’t over yet and we’re not wearing masks!” You shout at him.

To your shock, no one seems to hear you, or even care that everyone in this burger joint is ignoring the most important safety protocol. You panic even further, and while making your way to Taehyung to take Soojin back, you feel something tugging the back for your cardigan.

You turn to chide Yoongi, thinking it is him who is pulling your clothes. You gasp when you find no one behind you. Not Yoongi, not Namjoon, not anyone you came to the place with. In fact, the whole place has become empty, but for a little boy standing in front of you.

He has feline eyes, much like Yoongi’s, and his complexion is as milky white as your husband’s too. He looks up at you with such innocence, and you kneel down to meet him at eye level.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Are you okay? Where are your parents?”

The boy continues to look at you silently, then he fishes something out of his packet. It is a folded K94 mask. He offers it to you.

“For you, Eomma.” He says shyly.

=======

You sit up, gasping out loud. You immediately reach for your face, feeling for a mask around your mouth and nose. Your fingers touch bare skin directly, which sends you into a panic.

You start to look around for a mask frantically, only to find yourself... in your bedroom in Seoul? And your husband is stirring awake next to you. You reach for the baby monitor, and relief floods over you as you see on the screen that your daughter Soojin is sleeping peacefully in her room.

“Babe,” Yoongi sits up next to you, voice still thick with sleep. “You okay?”

You place a hand on your bare chest. Your heart is still beating fast. “I just had the craziest dream.”

Yoongi reaches for you and pull you down to lie with him. Rubbing your back, he asks you to tell him your dream.

“We were back in the house, that In the Soop house,” you begin. “We were having such a good time, Soojin was laughing, the boys were all there too.”

You try to focus but bits and pieces of the dream are already forgotten in your mind. “And somehow we all went out for dinner, and no one was wearing masks, Yoongs, including us and I panicked I think?”

Your husbands hands are soothing you. “And that’s when you woke up?”

“No...There’s something else.” You struggle to remember. “There’s a boy I think, and I thought he was lost, but he gave me a face mask.”

Yoongi stops rubbing you. “The boy gave you a mask?” He sounds tickled.

“It’s a dream, it doesn’t have to make sense.” You playfully swat his chest.

He nuzzles your hair. “You dream of the weirdest things.”

You giggle in his embrace. Your naked bodies pressed closer as sleepiness starts to disappear, slowly replaced by something more carnal.

You suddenly remember something. “Oh my god, Yoons!” You push Yoongi away. He leans back, confused.

“What if that was a conception dream? The boy called me Eomma.”

Your husband looks at you as if you have grown two heads. “A conception dream?”

“Well, we may have conceived a child tonight, considering... you know, how many times you came in me.”

“Only twice but thanks for the ego boost.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a stern look. “What if we conceived a baby tonight, and that was my conception dream? Oh my god, how could my conception dream be of a boy giving me a K94 mask?”

Yoongi starts laughing. “And what do you think that would mean? We’re gonna have a son who’d become a doctor? That wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

You pout. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

He cradles you back in his arms. You have talked with your husband before about giving Soojin a sibling. Your hand unconsciously moves down to your tummy. You and Yoongi have foregone all birth controls tonight, and you hope one of his swimmers has made it.

Yoongi strokes your hair gently. “You know, since you have the conception dream already, why don’t we make sure it doesn’t go to waste?”

His hands are moving down your body, sending sparks all over.

“I agree, Min Yoongi. You better give me a baby tonight. Just in case the first two times weren’t quite successful.”

Laughing, he rolls over to be on top of you, determined to get you all nice and pregnant by the time morning comes.

A/N: I actually had the dream OC had - minus the boy with the K94 mask. The fact that Miss Rona actually invaded my dream, that was just so crazy I had to write it down! And eventually it became this little piece of a fic 😄 Please remember to wear your mask, social distance and stay safe! 💜

Published 08022021

#thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #btscreatorscorner #noonasinnetwork #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #in the soop #bts fan fiction #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #husband Yoongi

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thexanwillshine · 3 years

Text

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

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ourimpavidheroine · 2 years

Text

Growth?

We can do growth.

Year 171 - The Four Elements Hotel, Mako and Wu’s first morning together.

“So! Mako! Breakfast! I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered just a little bit of everything! Don’t you worry, either, the food here is just delicious. Day or night, all I have to do is give ‘em a little ring-a-ding and they’ll bring me up whatever I want. Nice, huh? So, tea? You drink tea? How do you take your tea? Me, I like mine black and strong. So how do you like yours?” The prince was fairly hopping around the cart. Mako had assumed that he’d be a late riser - weren’t royals all late risers? - but that was not the case. The prince was up and dressed before Mako had dragged himself out of bed. He’d need to swing by his flat at some point and grab his alarm clock, then. He might not know what a bodyguard did all day but he assumed it wasn’t sleeping later than the person he was supposed to be guarding.

The prince was still talking, a ceaseless stream of babble that he had tuned out completely. So. Prince Wu of the Earth Kingdom was apparently a morning person. Fantastic. Just fantastic. He hated morning people. In fact, he often felt the urge to set morning people on fire and this kid was starting to tempt him. He startled a bit when a tea cup and saucer was shoved under his nose.

“So what do you take in your tea, huh? Myself, I like it black and strong. I bet that surprises you, right?”

He quickly took the tea cup out of his hand before half of it went all over the rug. “Sure.” He fumbled around on the cart before he found the milk and sugar, adding them both to the cup. The prince had filled it too full and some of it slopped over the side into the saucer. He sighed. “I can get my own tea, you know.” He sat down at the table. Was he supposed to sit before the prince sat down? He had no idea. Well, fuck that. If Beifong wanted someone who knew proper etiquette she could just send someone else, then. It’s not like she wasn’t aware of his background. He had pissed her off, hadn’t he? Shit!

“Sure you can! I was just being friendly. I’m a friendly kind of fellow.” The prince started yanking the silver domes away from the food. “So, what do we have here? Well, there’s jook, of course. I told them to send up three different kinds. There’s some with egg and onion, there’s some with mango in it and some with pickled kale. Oh, you have to try the jook with the pickled kale. It’s to die for!”

Mako saw the newspaper on the side of the cart and reached over for it. “Not a fan of kale.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and set it down on top of the paper.

“What? No, seriously. You don’t like kale? Everyone likes kale! I bet you’ve just never had it prepared properly. Give it a try. I bet you’ll like it.” The prince dished some of the pickled kale jook up and set it in front of him. The smell enough was enough to turn his stomach and Mako deliberately moved the bowl aside. “Oh, come on! Little taste? Just a little one? It’s kale! A taste sensation! I ordered kale smoothies, too. I love those!”

“I don’t want a kale smoothie. I’ll just take some of the regular jook. Non-kale jook.” He leaned over to the cart and dished himself up a bowl of the egg and onion jook, snagging a spoon to go with it.

“What about a bun? I ordered five different kinds. Let’s see…we’ve got picken, bean paste, egg, tofu and kale again. You mean to say you don’t even like kale in a steamed bun?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Well, that’s just weird, Mako, I have to say. What about dumplings? I ordered some of those too.”

Mako sighed. “Look, tea and jook is fine for me. I don’t really make a big deal of breakfast.” Would this kid never shut up? He could give Bolin a run for his yuan, for sure. Except that Bolin would have already made a sizable dent in that cart and the prince hadn’t actually eaten anything yet. “You should eat.”

Year 175 - The Palace at Ba Sing Se, Mako and Wu’s first time together.

“You're shaking,” he said, and I was, a little.

“C’mere,” he said, and pulled me along with him to sit down in the chair at my desk. He sat me down on his lap. “Look, nothing has to happen that you aren't ready for. You get to call the shots with this. I know this is your first time.”

I do like to think I have some dignity; however, squawking out, “It is not!” is not very dignified.

He just laughed softly in my ear. “Oh come on, Wu.”

Fine, think you know it all, Officer Hotpants. Hmph.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against his chest. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “I mean it. I’m not in a hurry.”

“I'm kind of in a hurry,” I grumbled, and he bit my earlobe which was EXTREMELY distracting. My goodness. I couldn't begin to even hope to sit still after that little piece of business, so to distract myself I ran my fingers along his left hand. I had noticed it when he took the glove off, obviously; the scars are hard to miss. Red feathers snarling and bursting across the entire hand, palm included, running up under his shirt cuff. The skin felt slightly rough, but nothing too bad. “Can you bend with it?”

He moved it away from me and shot a dagger of flame out of it. “Yep.”

“Lightning?”

“All present and accounted for. It’s fine. It looks bad, but it doesn't hurt at all. Itches like crazy sometimes, but there’s no pain. I’m completely back up to speed. The healer did good work with it.”

I traced down the back of it, and he held the flame steady. “Does it feel strange?” I asked. “To do that? Does it feel different, somehow?”

He slowly turned his hand palm up, and the flame shifted from a dagger to a small bloom of flame. “Well, it’s not painful, if that’s what you mean. I can burn myself if I am careless, but the flame itself doesn't hurt as I control it. It’s a matter of will more than anything else. I tell the flame what to do, and it does it.”

“I've always wondered,” I said.

He extinguished the flame and took my hand with his other hand and placed it on the scarred palm. “It doesn't heat up my skin or anything.” He took my hand away, let flame blossom again, shut it down, and put my palm immediately back down on his. “See?”

“Do you ever lose control of it?”

“Are you scared of that?”

“I just wondered.”

“It’s very very rare. I'm a good firebender, Wu. Master class. You don't need to worry about that, and I mean it. Firebenders, we control our element, not just direct it. Because of that we have to learn control very early on. I won't burn you.”

“I know you won’t. I really just wondered.”

“Okay.”

184 - Zaofu, Attending Bolin and Opal’s Wedding together.

When I woke up the next morning, Mako was still sleeping. Now I would never say this to him, Progeny, but he looks about ten years old when he sleeps. His hair goes in every direction, he curls that divine body of his up into the fetal position, his face relaxes and he drools just the slightest little bit. He looks very peaceful. I love to watch him sleep. I am not so amicable to share a bed with - I take up far too much space, steal all the covers and am very restless, according to Mako. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, thankfully. At least I don’t snore like an airbender!

(To be fair, I will add that I myself have also been known to drool while sleeping. There. Our deepest secrets revealed. We both drool when we sleep. Damp pillows are not very romantic, alas!)

I found my pajama bottoms on the floor next to the bed and slipped them back on to do my morning waterbender forms. In and through the forms I moved; slowing down my breath and clearing my head. I can’t say as they do all that much to augment my (rather meager) physique, but they do at least keep me supple, and after nearly ten years of doing them I simply can’t imagine starting my day off without them. When I finished I looked back to the bed to see Mako propped up on his pillows, hands behind his head, watching me. He smiled at me - a rather wicked smile, might I add, and one that not very many people are privy to, Mako’s public face is normally either impassive or irritable, take your pick - and swung one hand down to pat the bed next him. His grin widened.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I said.

He shot those perilous eyebrows up and down, the grin never leaving his face, and patted the bed again. Shameful! He knows what that does to me!

“Stop that,” I said. “I don’t have time. I have places to be today. I am very busy and important.”

He purposefully moved so that the sheet slid down his body and patted the bed yet once again. This was very unfair of him, Progeny.

“No! Besides, the children will be coming back at any moment, surely.”

His eyes went straight to a certain part of my anatomy that was, by this time, strongly disagreeing with my assertion that I was going to be leaving the room. He twitched the covers back and, hand to Raava, posed himself to his best advantage. His best advantage is devastating. He knows it, too. I threw up one hand to dramatically point at him (a move I have picked up over the years from Lin) and I gave him my sternest look. “I’m not looking at you, so you can just stop! I am going to shower and get dressed and get some breakfast because the children and I need to be on that train to Gaoling and I simply cannot afford to roll around the bed for an hour satisfying your libidinous urgings!” I did attempt a very determined and unruffled exit to the bathroom but I am sorry to have to report that it went south when I accidentally stumbled over one of Mako’s shoes that he had abandoned in the middle of the floor the night before. That man! I shed my pants and got into the shower and congratulated myself on my steadfast resolve.

My resolve was shattered by the shower door being flung open and my husband stepping in, however. I let out a little shriek and he picked me right up off the floor and pinned me back up against the shower wall.

“Fine,” I said. “Do your worst. But don’t take all day about it.”

His only reply was to chuckle and bite my earlobe. Disgraceful man.

#my fanfiction #long post #Wu does grow up!#Mako stops being such a pill!

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valkyrieskwad · 4 years

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i put a spell on you (because you're mine)

ao3

hi all! here’s the contribution i made to @supercorpzine this year!! it was a blast getting to work with so many talented people. hope it brought a little light to everyone’s 2020, we can sure use it.

Kara Danvers has an awful habit of making Lena feel like she's falling apart.

It's a familiar sentiment in some ways—as a struggling nineteen-year-old witch, Lena's grown accustomed to falling apart over the simplest things about her magic, about learning spells and potions and figuring out her own identity enough to do incantations with any real meaning—but the way she falls apart about Kara feels different.

Maybe it's because they live in the same apartment, or because they finish each other's sentences and have the same taste in music and food and old English literature. Maybe it's because they spend their weekends getting lost in the aisles of antique bookstores, smiling too big as the dust collects in their hair, getting too excited about old newspaper clippings used as bookmarks stuffed between browning pages.

Maybe it's because Kara spends two hours every day meticulously looking after their house plants, chatting to them about her day with her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the sun bouncing off of her sharp blue eyes.

Maybe it's because Lena's in love with her, because she's absolutely hopeless for Kara, and she couldn't snap out of it even if she wanted to.

The two of them are like tree trunks planted right next to each other: separate roots and branches, but grafting together in the middle, growing taller and taller into something too intertwined to be anything other than inseparable.

"I was thinking of leaving," Kara whispers one night, completely out of the blue. It's late and they're on the couch, snuggled together underneath their quilted blanket—the first one they ever made together, decorated with different colored owls. Lena's eyes feel heavy, but she blinks them open as Kara shifts in closer and adds, "After I graduate, I mean. I feel like there's just so much of the world I still haven't seen yet, you know?"

"Mmm," Lena hums, but then it all catches up to her and she opens her mouth to say, "Oh," sucking in a deep breath and swallowing past the lump suddenly growing in her throat. "What do you feel like you haven't seen?"

"I haven't seen anything," Kara sighs, and it's like her words burn for some reason, etching hot across Lena's skin like a freshly inked tattoo.

Lena feels like she's seen everything living here. She feels so in tune with the land around her, that she hasn't really thought of being anywhere else for a while now. Southern Oregon may not be the most interesting part of the country, but it's the only place that Lena's ever found a sense of community. It's the only place she's ever felt like she can be queer and a witch and magical and accepted. It's the only place she's ever felt a part of something larger than herself without feeling like she's being completely drowned out.

It's where she met Kara. It's where she fell in love. It's where she wants to stay.

"I didn't mean it that way," Kara says a few seconds later. "I just, I hear you and Andrea talking about all the things you've seen, and I feel like I want to see those things, too. I feel like I'm missing out on the world. Just being here."

There's a too-long pause that settles over them, but Lena eventually finds her voice to say, "If you want to see the world, I think you should," and then she tries not to think about what that means for them.

There are two things Lena remembers from her very first junior-witches potions class: 1) the first time she met Andrea and the way she smiled as she told Lena about solstice festivals and candle magic, about crystals and La Virgen and her immeasurable love for Santa Muerte, and 2) how serious the professor's face looked when she said, "Under no circumstances should you ever make a love potion."

They were nine years old, and the idea of a love potion made them both giggle and roll their eyes, adding more ingredients to their boiling pot as Andrea went back to talking about bonfires and spiced cider, evergreen and mistletoe and clove-spiked apples and oranges.

If anyone had asked her back then, Lena would have said she'd never make a love potion.

"But Santa Muerte would accept you even if you did," Andrea had said.

Lena remembers that too.

She thinks about that when she does decide to make a love potion, when her head keeps spinning because Kara said she wants to leave, and Lena knows she wants to stay. She thinks about it as she adds each ingredient, whispering over and over that if she loses Kara, she'll lose herself too, like it's liturgical almost, an incantation, her way of broadcasting her strongest intention so the spell can get it right and Kara can love her, and they can stay here together, happily, forever.

She thinks about it when she decides the love potion is a bad idea, when she hides it in the back of the fridge because even if Santa Muerte will still accept her, she's not sure she'll be able to accept herself.

It's a tough decision, but it's the right one.

So, she pushes it to the back of her mind, tells herself it'll all be okay, and then she tries to sleep as best as she can.

She doesn't expect her world to end when she gets home the next day, when Kara meets her at the door and takes a deep breath, sighs, smiles, clears her throat, twiddling her fingers together as she says, "Sorry, but I might have eaten your stew in the fridge."

"Excuse me, what?" Lena asks, letting her backpack clunk to the floor, taking several deep, deep calming breaths before she asks, "My stew?"

"Yes," Kara says slowly, cheeks pinking up. "I'm sorry, I was just. Hungry. But it was delicious if that makes a difference."

Lena can't breathe. "The one in the back of the fridge?"

"Yes," Kara says again, blushing even harder, and heat floods through Lena so fast it suddenly feels like she's drowning. "The one in the glass Tupperware that was hidden behind the milk. The thing you always do with the food you don't want me to eat."

"Why'd you eat it, then?" Lena whispers.

"I don't know," Kara admits. "But if you give me the recipe, I'm sure I could make it for you again. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," Lena tells her, heart pounding, head swirling, because Kara looks hopeful and beautiful and Lena doesn't know how to tell her how much she royally messed up, how that stew shouldn't have been in the fridge in the first place, how it's written in the preface of 86% of spellbooks to never make a love potion, let alone leave one lying around. "I was just going to throw it out, anyway," she adds with a smile.

She's pretty sure her life is over.

"I think I did something not good," Lena announces, and Andrea closes her book as she looks up at Lena, eyes glinting like she knows this is a big enough deal to warrant her undivided attention. This is, in fact, that serious. As a Scorpio sun Libra Venus, Lena absolutely hates complicated, messy situations, and this is as messy and complicated as it gets. "I need to talk to you about it."

"What kind of not good?" Andrea asks immediately.

"It’s not like, the end of the world, but it actually is the end of the world. I made a love potion that Kara ingested on accident, and I'm freaking out," Lena explains, shoulders inching their way to her ears as a blush inches its way across her cheeks. "I think I'm in trouble."

"Holy crap," Andrea mouths. "That's not good."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Lena groans, then she plops down on the couch next to Andrea and sighs, scuffing her shoe against the old wood of the apartment floor. "I don't think she even knows we're witches."

"What do you mean?" Andrea asks, leaning over so she's knocking shoulders with Lena. "I'm sure she's pieced it together by now."

"Yeah, maybe," Lena frowns. "But I'm pretty sure she thinks we're witches, but not witches. You know, the ones who make lavender salve and herbal tea and talk about tarot readings and natal charts. The ones who carry crystals around and garden and do candle magic without ever really knowing if it works."

"We are those kinds of witches," Andrea points out.

"Okay, yes, but we also do real magic, and we know it works. Crap," Lena groans, leaning forward and pressing her face into her palms. "How did this happen? I could get suspended from doing magic and lose Kara as a friend."

"Hey, it was an accident," Andrea reassures her, draping herself over Lena's back to hug around her. "I'm sure if you talk to her, you can fix this. It'll be okay, I promise. You'll be okay."

"I'll be okay," Lena repeats, and then she keeps saying it in her head until she feels like she believes it.

"A love potion?" Kara asks, and she's decidedly not upset. She's not even incredulous. Lena got so antsy she blurted everything out in the middle of making dinner, right after she dropped the colander three times and couldn't focus to save her life because she was so freaking flustered. So now Kara's standing next to a half-minced onion, slowly blinking her eyes with her arms folded across her chest, and she's... smiling. "You made a love potion?" she asks again, like this whole thing is funny and Lena's not falling apart. "Who'd you make it for?"

"I - well, I made it," Lena starts to say, then she takes a deep, sputtering breath, rolls her eyes, and huffs, "Who else would I have made it for?"

"Me?"

Lena sighs. "Yes, you. Because - well, because I want you to stay, but also because. I don't know," she finishes lamely. Then she takes in a long breath, presses her nails against her palm, and just says it, almost too quiet, but she's overwhelmed and feels dizzy. "Because I'm in love with you."

"I wasn't going to leave you behind," Kara says instantly, and Lena feels a bit relieved she just ignored the whole love thing. "I mean, I want to explore the world with you, it just - it came out wrong when I said it, and I got too nervous to fix it. But I always want to be with you. I want to go everywhere with you. You feel like home to me."

"Oh," Lena whispers. She was expecting a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them. Not those words, not phrased that way. She didn't expect Kara to just say that. "What are you saying?" she asks, just to clarify, looking down at her hands and trying her best to hide how flushed she feels.

Kara responds by taking a step forward, and then another, sucking in a nervous, shaky breath, and then she's leaning forward and kissing Lena—on the cheek at first, and then the corner of her mouth, and then she pulls away.

"I'm saying I already loved you," she says, stepping in even closer, filling Lena's space with so much comfort and love and warmth, that Lena feels a little like melting. "I'm also saying," Kara stretches out, and Lena can sense she's smiling before she looks up to see it, eyes latching on to Kara's too-pink lips, perfect and glistening even in the dim, 50-watt kitchen lighting. She's so pretty it's incomprehensible sometimes. "I didn't actually eat the stew. I sort of dropped it on the floor, but I thought it'd be better if I said—"

"Kara," Lena gushes out, like a reflex, like a breath of fresh air, like Kara's the most frustrating person she's ever met in her life. "You're kidding."

"I'm not," Kara says, smiling wider, then she fits her hands on Lena's waist, and Lena swallows, cheeks burning with both nerves and anticipation, and happiness.

Her brain is still stuck on the fact that she wasn't expecting this when Kara kisses her again, on the lips this time, but that doesn't stop her from closing her eyes, from pressing up and opening her mouth and kissing back until she's breathless.

"God, a love potion," Kara laughs, right against Lena's mouth, and then she goes back to kissing her again.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorpzine #my writing

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honeybunny-sawamura · 3 years

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Love Thy Neighbor

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8K

“No no nononono!” you rush to take out the thing that’s burning in your oven; almost forgetting to put on your mitts and nearly shoving your bare hand into the heat. They’re not on literal fire but you drop the whole baking pan into the sink and drown the charred contents in cold water. You sigh dejectedly at what’s supposed to be heart shaped cookies, but now they’re just scorched up black rocks. How does one mess up simple sugar cookies?? You hang your head in defeat and you have half the mind to dunk your head into the sink with the destroyed confection. They were supposed to be for friends; a nice thank you gift for all the things they’ve done for you and to celebrate Valentine’s Day boyfriend free. Well…

Three loud but quick knocks to your front door breaks you out of your thoughts and you straighten up to wonder who it is. A voice in the back of your mind scoffs since it should be obvious but when you answer the door, you’re surprised to see your neighbor, Iwaizumi Hajime, looking down at you with one eyebrow raised.

“Set your kitchen on fire, again?” he asks teasingly. While there’s amusement in his voice, you can hear the worry that’s laced underneath. You give him an embarrassed pout because one, yes you have set something in your kitchen ablaze before. And two, Iwaizumi is always there helping you fix up whatever disaster you’ve concocted. No matter what time of the day it was, after any failed attempt at cooking or baking that you’d tried to take on, he was there to help clean up and help you try again. It was like this from day one when you first moved into the apartment next to his and tried to cook your first meal with no cooking spray. Having him use the fire extinguisher on your brand-new cooking set was one way to make friends with your new neighbor.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles when all he gets is your pout as an answer. He tilts his head at you as if to silently ask if it’s okay to come in and you sidestep to let him enter your apartment. The handsome athletic trainer has been in here so many times, he knows the way to your kitchen like he does his own.

“What is it this time?”

“…. Sugar cookies.”

“Cookies? That’s like, the easiest thing to make!” he replies over his shoulder before stepping in and seeing your sad attempt submerged in the sink. He makes a face that seems to be crossed with disgust and pity. You wring you hands on your apron and your cheeks heat up in slight shame.

“I was also trying to make chocolate pops so… I kinda forgot about the cookies baking,” you explain and motion to the kitchen table with chocolates, lollipop molds, and other stuff strewn about. Iwaizumi looks over and is quite impressed with how some of them are turning out. He even approaches the table to get a better look at them and can see why you had forgotten about the cookies; the heart shaped chocolate pops you had made so far look delicious and cute. He turns to you with a smile that makes you heart flutter in your chest.

“These look great! Making these for a special Valentine?” he inquires with a grin and if the red in your cheeks weren’t noticeable, they had to be now.

“I-I... They’re for friends!” you tell him half the truth because yeah, some of the chocolate pops are for your friends. But the others, especially the ones that come out as perfect as you like, are for the spikey haired man currently standing in your kitchen. Somewhere in between him helping you not set your kitchen on fire for the umpteenth time and the two of you having long and deep discussions while whisking eggs, boiling pasta, and dicing onions, you had fallen in love with Iwaizumi. You fell in love with how caring he was; checking on you whenever he smelt something burnt coming from your apartment or stopping you in the hallway to see how your week has gone. You fell in love with the way he laughs; nice and hearty, especially when you two fought over the flour and ended up getting it all over each other. You fell in love with his smile; the soft ones that he graces you when after the food has been cooked, served, and eaten, he stays over a bit longer to chat with you. The realization of your feelings for your next-door neighbor hit you like an incoming bus when he cancelled a cooking lesson with you for a date. At first, you didn’t understand why you were so upset: Iwaizumi is just your neighbor and he had every right to go out with whoever he pleases. But after talking it out with a friend while you sadly stirred a pathetic looking chicken noodle soup did she give you an epiphany,

“I think you’re in love with him…”

“Well, your friends are lucky to have something as nice as these for Valentine’s Day,” Iwaizumi breaks you out of your thoughts. You blink to see him pick up one of your chocolate pops and inspects them, noticing the tiny hungry glint in his eyes. You feel pride swell in you and you approach him with a little skip.

“Do you want one?” you ask him curiously. He turns to you with hopeful eyes and that makes you giggle; the stern athletic trainer can be so cute at times.

“Would you give me one? Or… Maybe two?” he requests. You hum in reply, pretending to mull it over in your head whether or not to give him some. You grin when he starts to pout and you make a bargain with him,

“How about you help me with the sugar cookies while I make more chocolate pops?”

“Deal!” he accepts almost immediately, and it makes you laugh. Iwaizumi grins at your laughter and you missed the way his cheeks pinken at the pretty sound. He grabs the apron that you have for him whenever he comes over to help you and starts by scrubbing away burnt up cookies from the baking pan. You watch him for a moment, heart content with having him near you, before going back to making the pops. The two of you chit chat as batter is mixed and chocolate is poured. Sometimes a joke or a tease gets tossed in the conversation along with giggles and chuckles. You and Iwaizumi maneuver around the kitchen as if in a dance; you sliding to his side to grab a bottle of spice or him placing a hand on the small of your back to warn you that he’s behind you to grab a utensil. The both of you don’t seem to realize all the small touches and spare glances that passes between the two of you, but this was such a weekly occurrence that has been happening for months now that it just felt natural.

After Iwaizumi gets a few batches of cookies baked and cooled and you have wrapped them along with the chocolate pops in cute little packages, your Valentine’s gifts are ready for tomorrow. You and he put them in the fridge, so they don’t melt except for one. You give it a nervous glance, wondering how to give it to him and if you should confess your feelings as well. In your head, you can hear some of your friends cheering and encouraging you to do so. You stall for time by cleaning up and of course, Iwaizumi helps you with that; not noticing the lone Valentine gift still on the table until,

“Is this one for me?” the handsome athletic trainer inquires once all the goodies are stored and the kitchen is spotless. You turn to see him holding up his own Valentine and your heart leaps in your throat. He’s smiling at you, eyes twinkling and an eager look set upon his face. You would have laughed and found it so sweet any other time, but right now... Your poor heart was trying not to beat itself out of your chest.

“Ummm… Yeah. It’s for you. Happy Valentine’s Day… Hajime…” you say softly. Iwaizumi’s grin widens and he’s about to thank you when he suddenly catches the tone of your voice and the fact you called him by his first name; it was always just Iwaizumi. He looks at you; eyes searching yours for something and hope filling his chest. There’s a reason why he keeps coming over and helping you whenever you mess up in the kitchen. While it took you a good couple of weeks to figure out your feelings, Iwaizumi was sure by the fifth cooking session together that he was in love with you. He fell in love with the way you were so eager to learn; taking in every tip he gives you and listening intently to his words. He fell in love with way you eyes lit up; whether it was from being able to do the recipe without a hiccup or at a joke he entertained you with. He fell in love with your smile; how it bloomed beautifully on your face whenever he saw you. He was so in love with you but scared that you didn’t feel the same way. Iwaizumi had hoped you were when he reluctantly told you he was being forced into a date by his friend and had to cancel a cooking session. He didn’t like how your face fell and how dejected and small you sounded when you told him it was okay; he could feel his own heart breaking.

“Y/N?” he calls out to you while taking a step closer to you. Hope is swirling in his eyes and you’re sure it’s the same with you. You take in a breath before saying,

“I… I’m in love with you Hajime… I… Please, be my V-Valentine?” you wince a bit when you find yourself stuttering, the blush on your cheeks darkening. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you start to fidget when there is no answer. You are about to open your mouth to apologize or take it back or even both when Iwaizumi closes the distance between the two of you and pull you into a kiss. You let out a gasp but it gets swallowed when he slots his lips against yours. You let your eyes flutter close as you bask in his warmth and the wonderful feeling of his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You share your first kiss with Iwaizumi Hajime in the kitchen where the two of you fell in love and it makes both your hearts bloom with joy. When he pulls away from the kiss, he sighs happily and rests his head against yours. Both of you are smiling widely and a giggle pass between the two of you.

“I’ll be your Valentine from now on… Cuz I’m in love with you too.”

Taglist: @kiyoo-omi @mitzuya @vs-redemption @cursi-bitch

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cicinicole-14 · 3 years

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denial isn’t just a river in egypt!

so listen, nina (@doc-pickles) got an ask on tumblr about jo being pregnant and in denial about it and Alex comes back and sees her etc and we’d talked about it forever ago and then it was brought up again and I just had so much inspiration for it so bam here we go.

also my original plan for this fic flew completely out the window and somehow this happened instead so like, good luck, hope yall enjoy!

This was not how this was supposed to happen. This was not how her life was supposed to go.

She was supposed to take the test, find out it was positive, happily get to surprise her husband that they would be having a baby, or be standing right next to him as they both read the results as a happily married couple.

Not like this…

Not by herself in the dirty gas station bathroom because she was too terrified that Schmidt would find the test in the loft bathroom, or too many people could find out if she ran a blood test at the hospital.

So she’d run into the dimly lit gas station bathroom, just like she’d done last time she was pregnant, having a sickening feeling of deja vu as she waited for the results, honestly not sure why she was even bothering because she knew what the test was going to read…

Sure enough, three minutes later when the alarm on her phone pulls her out of her zoned out daze, there are two very prominent pink lines staring back up at her from the little stick. She tosses it into the trash and washes her hands, careful not to touch much of the bathroom to get out as clean as possible before pulling her mask back over her nose and mouth and exiting the dingey gas station.

Before she can even make it back to her car, she hurries to the trash bin posted out front of the convenient store and hovers over it, pulling her mask down and holding her hair out of her face before she’s heaving the contents of her stomach into the bin below her, trying not to touch the gross can.

This was nowhere close to how this was supposed to happen.

She sits in the waiting room of the clinic the next morning, her eyes scanning over the two visibly pregnant women each in a chair and a girl who couldn’t be older than twenty-one, sitting across from her, bouncing her leg nervously and scrolling on her phone. Jo picks at the hangnail on her thumb, watching as it reddened until it started to bleed before her name was called.

Her head lifts up and she stands, following the assistant back, confirming her legal name, date of birth and reason for the visit, before following directions and sitting on the exam table, waiting for her to leave before she changes into the paper gown.

She’s been through this before. She remembers the routine. Her doctor returns to the room once she’s gowned in the itchy paper and seated back on the exam table with her legs in the stirrups. She doesn’t pay enough attention to listen to what her doctor is saying, but there’s the procedural task of having the transvaginal exam and before long she’s doing everything she can to tune out the fluttering heartbeat echoing through the tiny exam room to confirm she was indeed pregnant.

It makes her feel nauseous.

She didn’t want it to be this way. She didn’t want this to happen like this. When had it all gone so wrong?

She swallows the bile back down and before long her doctor is informing her she needs to make another follow up appointment to schedule her procedure.

Jo nods in confirmation before the doctor is leaving and she’s left to change back into her own clothes, mind still in a complete blur.

She doesn’t remember much of walking back to the front of the clinic and scheduling her follow up appointment, but there’s a reminder card in her hand she clips to the visor in her car as she makes her way back to the loft, wanting to just sleep the rest of the day, week, month away…

“Are you calling in sick to work today again?”

She doesn’t give Levi a clear answer, just a groan, before rolling over back under the comforter.

“Because it’s raining and I was hoping I could bum a ride from you.” He continues on.

She turns to face him, glaringly. Not happy that he was disturbing her. “You can take my car but if there’s so much as a scratch on my baby, I’ll eat you alive.” She growls, tossing him her keys.

“Noted.” He acknowledges.

“And tell Bailey I’ll be back next week. I just… I need some more time.” She says softly.

He nods, sliding open the loft door and exiting.

And Jo barely waits for it to close before she’s bolting out of bed to the bathroom, curling over the toilet and emptying the contents of her stomach into it. She hopes Schmidt was far enough away to have not heard her puking her guts out. She didn’t need him to know.

Her hope is short lived though, by the time Levi walks in the loft late that evening, nudging her out of her slumber with a small card in one hand and a bag of food in the other.

“Jo?” He whispers timidly. He feels bad waking her up, but he knows she’s slept all day and probably hadn’t eaten. “I brought cheeseburgers and fries.” He said, holding up the bag on display.

And it doesn’t take a moment before she’s lurching out of bed, pushing him out of the way before she’s hurdling into the tiny bathroom again to throw up at just the smell.

“I’m sorry!” He repeats profusely, apologizing. “I didn’t know you were actually sick, are you okay?” She shakes her head, not wanting him to worry.

“I’m fine. Just, can you take the onions away from me?” He nods, tearing open the sandwich he’d gotten for her and picked off the onions, tossing them into the trash.

She thanks him before sitting down on a barstool now, sipping water to help quell her stomach before reaching for one of the greasy french fries in the bag and dipping it in ketchup. And then her eyes land on the appointment card she’d forgotten about from her car.

“I left your keys on the end table near your purse and put gas in your car. Thank you again for letting me take your car. Happy to report, zero scratches on her. Tip top shape.”

She makes a humming noise, confirming that she heard him, but her eyes are still glued to the card sitting next to their burger bag.

“I uh- I found that on your visor. I didn’t know–” “I’m not.” She cuts him off before pushing herself back from the stool and throwing her food away, barely having touched it, and crawling back into bed.

“Okay.” Levi says quietly, understanding she didn’t want to talk about it at the moment, so he drops the subject, continuing eating his food as Jo rolled over in bed, covering her body with the duvet.

She adjusts the PPE gear over her clothes and ducks into Meredith’s room on the ICU floor, taking a seat in the chair next to her.

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out yet. So she pauses, wiping her sweaty palms over her thighs before letting them rest.

Her phone rings, startling her, and she looks at the caller ID, seeing the clinic’s number flashing on the screen probably calling her to tell her she’s late for her appointment that she didn’t plan on showing up to.

“I’m not supposed to be here right now. I’m supposed to be somewhere else.” She says, quietly. She doesn’t even know if Meredith could hear her, but she just needed to talk to someone, someone who wouldn’t look back at her with pity or disappointment making her feel guilty.

“I’m supposed to be sitting on an exam table right now on the other side of town as they made this all go away, but instead I’m sitting here with you and I don’t even know if you can hear me.”

She swallows back the lump in her throat, determined not to cry.

“It’s been twelve and a half weeks since I’ve last seen him, you know?” She takes a shaky breath, moving to the edge of her chair and resting her forearms on Meredith’s bed. “And twelve weeks and two days since we were last together. And I know that, because instead of sitting on that stupid exam table making this all go away, I’m choosing to hold on to the only piece I have left of him, because I can’t do it, Meredith. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without him, I don’t want to. He’s supposed to be here. We were supposed to be a family together. We didn’t tell anyone yet, but we’d just decided to start trying and then he left me. And I thought I couldn’t feel more broken until those two pink lines showed up last week and I felt like my world was caving in on me. Everything is falling apart and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want this, but I can’t, I can’t just undo it now, can I?”

She knows she’s not going to get an answer, but it doesn’t matter because her mind’s already made up.

She slides back into the chair and lets her hands rest back on her thighs as she sits in silence, just listening to the ventilator breathe for her friend.

U awake?

Can i come over?

Sure

Is everything okay?

Honestly, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, standing at Jackson’s apartment door at almost eleven at night. They hadn’t had sex again in weeks, since before she’d…and she hadn’t even been to work all week either.

It didn’t matter though. She was fine. She was returning to work the day after tomorrow and no one even knew except for Schmidt, who she knew assumed she went to the appointment anyway. What he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. It was all going to be fine.

What she didn’t assume was the fact that Jackson had peeled her shirt off after a heated make out session and his hands landed on the swelling bump she didn’t realize was there.

She’s a doctor, and she knew post-second trimester, changes happen and bumps form, but she pushed that all to the back of her mind. She ignored it. And apparently hadn’t noticed it while getting dressed today.

But Jackson pulls back from the kiss, furrowing his brow, hand still on her bare stomach for a moment before Jo begins pulling away and grabbing for her shirt off the back of the couch.

“I’m not… It’s not, it’s not yours.” She rushes out, pulling her shirt back on.

Jackson laughs dryly for a moment. “Yeah I’d hope not, you look a bit further along that we’ve been sleeping together, unless you’re having twins. You’re not having twins, are you?”

“I’m not having a baby.” she says sternly and Jackson takes a moment to scratch at the stubble on his chin, clearly confused before Jo continues. “This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. I’m not having a baby.” She repeats, firmly, before gathering her phone off the coffee table and picking up her purse, heading for the door.

“Jo, wait, hey.” He tries, trying to stop her. “We don’t have to talk about it.” He reassures.

She hesitates, her hand holding the door open, still ready to leave, but she lets it slip, and it shuts quietly.

“Just, have you been checked out by someone? Carina? Anyone?”

She doesn’t give him an answer, just the soft click of the door as she opens it back up and walks out.

She’s been back at work the past month, thankfully able to avoid most people by sticking to the maternity ward, focusing on switching her specialty. Though she didn’t know what was worse, being nagged by friends who knew and trying to dodge them or being haunted by the multitude of patients she was helping deliver.

Jumping back and forth between the COVID ICU ward and the maternity ward, she knew she’d run into Link eventually. She’d managed her very best to avoid him at all costs. It was easy for the first week she’d returned, since he was still on paternity leave with Scout and helping take care of Meredith’s kids too, but then he’d returned to help out with the influx of new cases and she’d been asked to be transferred to OB, shadowing Carina until her luck had run out and he’d all but chased her down cornering her and pulling her into an empty on-call room.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I have patients.”

“Jackson called me to tell me he was worried about you. And even Schmidt had said you hadn’t been to the loft in a while. Are you okay?” He asks, and she wants nothing more than to melt into his arms in a bear hug, but she knows if she does that, she’ll lose all control and she’s barely holding on by threads.

“I’m fine.” She says coldly.

“You’re not fine. You’re like eighteen weeks pregnant, based on when Alex was last here.”

“I’m not having a baby.” She says before turning on her heel and storming out of the on-call room, slamming the door on her way out.

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt!” She hears him shout from the other side of the door. She rolls her eyes, stomping away like an irritated child.

“Wilson! Stop slamming doors in my hospital and lend a hand please. We have an MVC in the pit.” Bailey shouts to her.

Jo’s happy to have her mind be taken off of the conversation she’d just had before following after her boss.

“He’s going to need an x-ray to check for spinal injuries and run an EKG and full work up. Hurry!” Jo barks out orders, jumping into action and giving the gurney a shove in the correct direction before Bailey’s standing in front of her, blocking their way. “I need to get him to x-ray before we take him into surgery, Bailey, move.”

“No you don’t. An intern can take him to x-ray, you are not going there.”

Jo just begrudgingly lets go of the gurney, watching as two interns and a third year resident start wheeling their patient away.

She watches as Bailey’s stern face falters and her eyes soften into something along the lines of almost motherly, and it makes Jo almost want to break down right then and there, but she bites down on her bottom lip, forcing herself not to start crying before Bailey’s reaching out her hand for her to take.

So she does, and Bailey leads her away from the loud emergency room and together they walk up to the imaging room to wait for the x-rays to be ready.

“Are you doing okay?” Bailey treads carefully. She’s the chief of this hospital. She was taught how to be all-knowing. And the shock that flashes across Jo’s face that she knew, she figured was surprising. “I am the chief of this hospital, of course I know what’s going on with my surgeons.” She tells her and Jo looks away.

She just sighs softly.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Bailey doesn’t get a chance to reply before the images from the x-ray are up and Jo’s immediately rushing out of the room, headed for her patient. Bailey just sighs, following after her to assist with the surgery.

She’s not prepared for the sudden force of a pull in the opposite direction, almost tripping and stumbling over her feet as the brunette is leading her into an open exam room.

And before she can even question her or start to speak, Amelia’s opening her mouth to speak, cutting her off.

“I know I am the last person to probably be forcing you into doing this, but it’s happening anyway. Link has not shut up about how worried he is about you the past month and I’m tired of it so I’m giving him answers without violating HIPA. So lay back and pull up your shirt, this will be cold.” She said, shaking the bottle of gel as she wheeled the ultrasound machine closer to the two of them in the room.

Jo obliged, slowly, pulling her shirt up under her breasts and loosening her scrub pants a bit so Amelia could perform her exam.

Her bump was big now, and she’d already had to move up a couple sizes in her scrubs, but she still refused to acknowledge the life that was so rapidly growing within her.

“I was twenty weeks along before I let my sister-in-law force me into having an ultrasound thus leading to finding out my baby had no brain. A baby I had been in denial about because his father had overdosed next to me in bed.” Amelia says softly as she moves the wand around on Jo’s abdomen. “Alex was the first person I told that story to, fully.”

Jo doesn’t speak for a moment, taking in the words Amelia had just spoken, her eyes avoiding the screen at all costs as she looks in the complete opposite direction.

“I didn’t know you had a baby before Scout.” She finally replies softly.

Amelia pauses her movements and looks at Jo with a small smile. “Not many people do. His name was Christopher, and he had anencephaly. He lived for forty-three minutes before he got to donate all his organs and help others in need.” She says, trying not to cry herself.

By this time, Jo had turned to face her, and had given her a look of sorrow, of apology.

“Moving on, this baby you aren’t having is a good size, ten fingers, ten toes, has a brain. They look really healthy for twenty-two weeks, okay?” Amelia reassures her, wiping off the gel from Jo’s stomach. “I know we aren’t close, but I love Link and I know he’s really worried about you, so for all of our sakes, can I check up on you once a month for the rest of this?” She asks cautiously. “Just a few minutes out of every month to make sure everything is okay and then we can go back to ignoring it and being in denial together? You’ll be glad you have the peace of mind later on down the line.” She says.

Jo pulls her scrub top down slowly, nodding. “Sure.” she says quietly. “Just once a month, for a few minutes. Just us.” She says and Amelia nods, promising.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great mom. Scout loves you and I know he’d love to have a cousin to grow up with.” Amelia knows she’s said too much by the way Jo flinches at the comment, but she doesn’t run, like Link had told her Jo did to him. So maybe it was a step in the right direction. A baby step.

“It just wasn’t supposed to happen like this…” Jo replies softly, adjusting her scrub top over herself properly. Amelia nods, understanding it completely, giving Jo’s hand a squeeze.

True to her word, Jo’d let Amelia perform an ultrasound on her the following months, for just a few minutes each time, checking to make sure everything was okay. Jo refused to listen to anything about the baby, and didn’t want to know, just made sure Amelia noted everything down in her file. If it pleased everyone else, she was fine with that.

She still refused to believe any of this was even happening. No changes had been made to her home, nothing had been bought, nothing prepared. She didn’t want to even think about doing this without him, not for a minute. Surely, she could’ve called him. Anytime in the past seven months, she could have picked up the phone and dialled his number waiting for him to answer. But every time she picked up the phone to do just that, she was reminded of the fact that he’d left her. He’d done the one thing he promised to never do, and he’d abandoned her. And she was left so utterly broken by it. She was left broken and falling apart to try and do this by herself, something she didn’t want to do. Something she shouldn’t have to do, because he should’ve been here, holding her hand through this all, hovering over her so much she’d threaten to smack him or something. But he wasn’t.

Which was why she refused to believe that the wave of pain that contracted through her abdomen was anything other than a braxton hicks contraction. She was well on her way to becoming an OB, she’d been delivering babies daily. She knew what active labor looked like, and she refused to believe this was it.

Not until she felt a small release of pressure and then free falling fluid between her legs while she was headed to check on one of her own laboring mothers. This was not supposed to be happening right now.

She ignored it, ducking into an empty on call room, making sure to page someone else to cover her patients, letting them know she was unavailable before sitting down on a chair in the on call room, trying to force herself to breathe through the contraction just as she instructed her patients to do.

Tears well up and spill from her eyes, gracing her cheeks as she paces the tiny on call room, trying to keep herself from spiralling into a panic attack. She’s slowly losing her resolve as another contraction flutters through her body and she knows she’s progressing quickly but she hates that she’s stuck doing this alone.

And then the panic is settling in further as she realizes she really hasn’t prepared for any of this. Sure, she’d cut out alcohol from her diet, and was mindful of the things she could and couldn’t eat, but other than that, nothing else. She’d not so much had even bought a pack of diapers for this baby she was really just acknowledging she was pregnant with, while in now-active labor.

Im having a baby

Uh, yeah?

I know I wasn’t conscious for a lot of your pregnancy but you’re having a baby Jo

I mean right now

OH!

Okay have you been admitted?

I’ll be there soon!

I cant do this without him, Mer

I dont want to

She didn’t want to do any of this without him.

She hesitates, pulling up her contacts in her phone and hovers over his name. She should call. He deserves to know. But then another wave of a contraction courses through her and she’s doubling over, trying to breathe through it before the on call room door is swinging open and Carina is standing there with a look on her face.

“Meredith called to ask what room you were in since you were having a baby but I was the one shocked to find out that my fellow was in labor and had failed to tell me. Jo, come on, let's get you settled in a room.” Her accent, thick as she helped guide Jo out of the on call room and to a maternity room.

Carina guides her slowly into a room, helping get her settled and hooking her up to the various monitors before promising to be back to check on her soon and leaving her be.

Jo doesn’t know how long it had been, but she wakes up to the frantic beeping of monitors and Carina running into her room. She’s confused at what’s happening, but she hears her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She’s crying, she can feel her tears running down her cheeks, and she can’t hear herself, but she knows she’s screaming, screaming for him, screaming she can’t do this without him.

Before long she’s being wheeled out of her room and somehow into the OR where Carina has returned, hovering over her with a scrub cap on, smiling at her reassuringly. She thinks she remembers hearing her say everything would be okay but she isn’t sure, and then everything is hazy.

Until she feels someone standing next to her, and she looks over, and he’s standing next to her, holding her hand as she blinked back tears, trying to remember to breathe.

Alex was here. He was right here, next to her, holding her hand as Carina was performing a c-section on her and delivering their bundle of joy. He was here, squeezing her hand, telling her she could do this, that she did do this, she’s got this. That she is so strong. He’s blurry between her tears, and everything is hazy, everything is loud, everything is painful and scary and then she can hear the distinct sound of cries, filling the OR. And she’s turning her head to look over the sheet that’s separating her from her open abdomen, and Carina’s standing over her, holding up a squirming, screaming baby in her hands before she’s passing the baby off to another member of the delivery team and Jo’s eyes follow the baby for a second before landing on the man standing next to her again.

“Hey, you did it!” He smiles and she furrows her brow at him, his blue eyes staring back at her.

“Link?” She manages to whisper through her confusion, wondering where Alex had gone. But then she hears the baby start screaming again, and realizes he’s probably gone to check on their child and she focuses on trying to stay awake, but her heart rate drops and then everything is going black.

She wakes to the soft noises of shuffling around her room and Carina greeting her with a small smile, scooping up a wrapped bundle from the plastic bassinet, walking over to the side of her bed. “Ciao, Mama. You have one very handsome little bambino.” She greets, handing the newborn over to Jo.

Jo stares down at her little one, smiling down at him as she realizes just how much of Alex she truly sees in him.

“Where’s Alex? Is he just catching up with Meredith?” She questions, not looking up from staring at her child.

Carina freezes, not sure how to approach the topic but finally settles on a plausible answer. “I don’t know where he is.”

Jo just shrugs, still in a trance, staring at her son. She was in heaven.

And then she was in hell, when she realizes that Alex had never been there in the first place, that when Meredith had shown up to drive her back to the loft after being in the hospital for two days after her c-section, she was truly doing this alone, just like she’d done the entire time.

He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there to see the birth of their son. He hadn’t been there, encouraging her as she was delivering their child. He wasn’t there bringing them home, like he should’ve been. He hadn’t even known she had their baby. And she was truly alone.

It was sinking in as Meredith had explained to her on the drive back to the loft, that baby Luca had been in such distress and showing D-cells when Carina had taken her up to the OR for an emergency c-section and Link had been with her the whole time. That he was struggling and his cord had prolapsed and then her own heart rate had spiked because of the onset panic and her own body was in distress through the surgery, but ultimately Carina had made sure she was going to be there to raise her son.

It hurt her. It hurt to know that she’d been in such a haze, hallucinating the entire time of Alex having been there. It hurt to know that instead of him driving them home, it was Meredith. It hurt to know that again, she was going to be doing this alone.

Meredith helps walk her up the stairs to the loft, carrying Luca’s carrier in her hand as Jo follows behind her, meeting up with Meredith at the top of the landing before unlocking the door and sliding it open.

“Before you say anything, this was why I wasn’t there holding your hand, too.” Meredith explains, setting the baby carrier on the bed and Jo looks up, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Alex.”

#cici writes #jolex #jolex fic #jo wilson #alex karev

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deathduty · 3 years

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Know Your Onions || Deirdre & Orion

PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @deathduty (and Nic’s ghost) TIMING: Current (?) LOCATION: Rio’s house CONTENT: Deirdre calls Rio ugly a lot SUMMARY: Rio meets his landlord, Deirdre misses Nic’s muscles

The house Deirdre had gotten for Nic sat deep in the back of her mind. She thought of it rarely, and only remembered when passing the neighborhood that it existed at all. With time to spare, and Nic and Skylar seemingly gone, it seemed right to ready the house for sale. Or, at least, to use as a second location to store her bones. She’d figure it out. Using her copy of the key, she entered slowly, eyeing a place she’d never really seen. She found it odd that the furniture hadn’t really been taken, or the bits and bobbles of decoration. For what it looked like, it was as if someone was still living here. Deirdre sighed, throwing herself on the couch and kicking her feet up. She could put a skull there, by the window, and a bigger skeleton could hang over there. But did she really need another house in the same town? It was so far out of her usual way that it hardly made sense. Then again, the windows were large, and she wondered what it might be like to push someone out of them. As Deirdre pondered these questions of great importance, a scrawny boy entered her vision. He appeared sad, and pathetic in that way young humans were. Most of all, though, she didn’t recognize him. Deirdre sat up. “If you’re here to rob the place, child. I’m the most valuable thing here and...if we’re being honest, I think a strong enough breeze would send you into the next city.” Deirdre eyed the boy, and then the window, and then the boy again. He would do nicely.

Orion hadn’t been in the best state mentally since Skye had left. He had found himself alone in another house with too many memories and too much space for Rio alone. But still, it beat moving back into the empty shell of a home that his dead parents had left behind. Besides, how could he beat the opportunity to stay in a house that had apparently already been paid for in full? He didn’t understand much about adulthood, moving out of his parent’s house only to move in with a guy that wouldn’t even consider charging Rio rent. Here, things weren’t much different. There was no rent to pay, just utilities or whatever. He had been left with instructions on how to make the payments, and as far as he was aware he hadn’t been evicted yet. But he had been crying. A lot of crying. Enough crying that very morning even that his senses never picked up on the front door opening. He was lying on the floor next to his bed, slowly coming down from an episode when he finally heard the movement downstairs. He froze, focusing his senses out to try to confirm the source of the noise. But the more he listened, the more he was convinced that there was somebody downstairs right now. He rose slowly, his head peaking out from behind the bed as he glanced over at the open bedroom door. He half expected someone, or something to be standing there waiting for him. Luckily that hadn’t been the case. Rio rose slowly, taking light steps, just as his hunter mentor had been teaching him, out into the hallway and down the stairs. He slowly crept towards the source of the noise, finally turning a corner into the living room and taking in the view of a woman casually spread out across his couch. He wiped at his eyes quickly, trying uselessly to hide the evidence of red eyes and tear streaks. “What? No. I’m not here to rob the place. I’m here to live the place.” Rio paused, clearly flustered and trying to speak normally, “No. Wait. I mean I live the place. Er- I live here. This is my place!” Rio finally clarified a bit too passionately. He chose not to comment on her second statement. He knew exactly how he looked. “Uh… who are you?”

The more Deirdre looked at the boy, the more sad he seemed. He looked like he either had been crying, or had one of those faces that made him look like he was always one mean comment away from bursting into tears. As he spoke, her eyes narrowed. The only people who lived here were Skylar and Nic. The child clearly wasn’t Skylar and…. Deirdre rose from the couch with a gasp, hands clasped over her mouth. Poor Nic. Tears welled in her eyes. Somehow, he had been turned into a sad, pathetic, muscle-less little boy. Like someone had zapped all of his hotness away. If that had been her, well, she would’ve been crying too. And she was, now, for the loss of Nic’s muscles. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember what Nic looked like aside from his biceps, which were the only place she looked. He was barely recognizable now, in this cursed state. “I’m so sorry you’re so ugly,” she drew closer to him, clutching her chest. “It’s me, Deirdre. Your landlord. Oh, I know it must be hard to remember me, when we met you were much more….” She gestured in the air, miming his muscles. “I’m so sorry.” She drew the child-Nic into a hug. “I’m going to help you get through this, okay? No one should ever have to look like you do.” She drew back, “have you eaten anything today? You’re going to need lots of protein, okay? It’ll help.”

The woman was staring at Orion. An intense but vacant stare that made Rio convinced that she was clearly thinking through something in her head. Rio wasn’t sure what to expect from the woman. Was she there to kill him? Rio really wasn’t prepared to fight for his life. Or particularly motivated too either. But instead, the woman jumped from his couch and shot over to him with… were those tears in her eyes? Rio wasn’t just confused now, he was a bit worried. But any sense of sorrow he felt the woman quickly vanished when she spoke again. Suddenly, there was a lot less fear and most a healthy mix of confusion and confusion. His face dropped into a flatline, all emotion wiped from his face as he processed what the woman was saying to him. “I’m sorry I- don’t think we’ve ever met before.” Rio tried, trying to maintain pleasantries despite being absolutely sure that he had never met this woman before. “Get through what?” Rio questioned, his body immediately tensing at the hug that Deirdre had pulled him into. Who the heck was this woman? “I- uh. Of course I’ve eaten today. I’m really not as skinny as everyone says you know? Have you been talking to the Doctor? She always sends me protein shake recipes.”

“Oh you’re in denial…” Deirdre tutted, letting the child go. “You should listen to your doctor, she’s right about the protein shakes. But you need to lift weights too, or else there’s no real point to the protein.” Perhaps it was some solemn acceptance that Nic had been reduced to this form. He must have come to terms with the fact that he was more noodle than man--with a face like a distressed baby. Nic always was a man of inner strength, as she could tell, which she really couldn’t given how distracting his outer strength was. But to be turned into a child? The mere thought made her shiver. “It’s okay if you don’t remember me,” she smiled, “your brain must be blocking everything out. How long have you been living like this?”

“I am not in denial.” Orion doubled down, crossing his arms like a pouting child and narrowing his eyes in her direction. “But the protein shakes were good. And I do lift weights sometimes!” Why was this woman so convinced that they knew each other? More importantly, why was she so obsessed with his accused frailness? He resisted the urge to try to point that he had gained a lot of muscle since training with Adam and Kaden. But that muscle went mostly unnoticed due to the baggy clothes he always wore. Besides, she didn’t seem entirely interested in his argument anyways. “Okay, that’s a lie. But I do exercise!” She wouldn’t stop looking at him with this face of mourning. As if Rio, or whoever she was convinced that Rio was, had died or something. He wasn’t a fan of the look at all. “It’s not that I don’t remember you. I’m pretty sure that we’ve never met! I didn’t know there was a landlord. I just paid Skye my cut of the utilities.” The last question baffled him a bit, and he paused and looked towards the ceiling as he considered his answer. “Uh- I’m 21. So 21 years?”

Deirdre’s frown grew deeper; how sad was it that Nic had to lie about lifting weights? He must’ve been demoralized after seeing the sorry state of his muscles. If he hadn’t blocked that from his memory at all. “You made Skylar handle your finances?” A look of disgust passed over her features--Skylar was also a child, and Nic was an adult. An adult of...21 years of age? Her face scrunched together in confusion. Nic was older, but even being transformed into a child would still mean he was just as old as he was before. Surely he was older than 21, wasn’t he? Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest, grumbling to herself as her mind tried to figure it out. It was true that she had a hard time telling the age of humans. This child here looked about 12, and Nic appeared adult-aged, whatever that meant. Maybe he truly was only 21? But she knew a handful of 21 year-olds and none looked like Nic. Was this Nic? No, of course it was. Who else would be living here? She’d only ever heard of Nic and Skylar. “You’ve been sad for 21 years?” She asked the boy, sighing, “you look like an abandoned puppy who was taken in and then abandoned again. And you’ve been that way for 21 years, child?” She paused, “are you sad because you have no muscles?”

“What? No. That sounds mean.” Orion defended immediately, but started to wonder if he had been putting too much stress on Skye. He had never known much responsibility financially when he lived with his parents. And in Ricky’s house he was lucky to get the man to accept money for groceries. “I mean, Skylar had everything under control when I moved in. Probably after Nic left.” Rio spoke absentmindedly, now trying to convince himself more than this woman who claimed to be his landlord. Rio actually chuckled at Deirdre’s question. You’ve been sad for 21 years? Clearly they had never met before, despite her believing otherwise. “Um. Yeah, just about. Give or take a couple.” Maybe the first few before he had any memories. “Thanks?” Rio didn’t actually take her surprisingly relatable comparison as a compliment, but when faced by someone as blunt as this woman seemed to be Rio didn’t actually know how to respond to what she was saying. “I’ve been sad about a lot of things but muscles hasn’t really-” Rio began explaining before he realized that diving into his childhood trauma was not productive to this conversation at all. He shook his head and scratched at the back of his neck, “Actually I don’t know what this has to do with anything? I always assumed that Nic owned the house. So uh… who are you? Besides Deirdre the landlord. Like- how did they end up living in your house?”

“Nic….left…?” Deirdre eyed the boy, suspicious. If this was Nic, it seemed strange that he would have a recollection of Nic, yet no awareness that he was the very man he spoke of. “....what is your name, skinny child?” Possibly, though Deirdre would admit it was an honest mistake, this kid wasn’t Nic. But again, possibly he was. It was hard to tell with White Crest. Gone were the simple days of raining fish, now there were curses and ghosts and skinny boys. If Nic had been turned into a sad child, who else would notice it but her? At any rate, she wouldn’t be able to tell unless someone could verify that this child had truly lived for 21 years and wasn’t actually from the swamp, or wherever Nic said he was from. “Yes, well I bought him the house because he saved someone’s life, and I felt he deserved a reward, as humans often do. You give a dog a treat and a human a house. I didn’t think much of it, but it was nice being a landlord. For one thing, lord is in the title–as it ought. And for another, it’s nice to have a buff man give you money every month. Although we never saw each other, it was nice to know that behind the money drops was a buff man. You know…” Deirdre snapped, “maybe that’s the answer to your sadness. If we got a buff man in here to do all your chores, you’d feel much better. It works for me.” Or would his muscles remind the boy all of what he was missing out on?

“Uh yeah? Like, quite a while ago. Were you not aware that Nic left?” Orion was so confused. There was nothing about this woman or scenario that had not completely baffled him since the moment he heard her in his home. Or her home he supposed. “Orion. Well, most people call me Rio. Either one, really.” Rio answered on instinct, only later realizing what she had called him, “Hey! I’m… slightly less skinny than I used to be.” In his head, that had been a much better defense than it sounded out loud. So this woman was clearly incredibly wealthy, buying houses for men on a whim and- Did she just say humans? Rio’s face settled into a curious squint, studying the woman. Was she just completely lunatic or supernatural? Rio shrugged to himself as he considered the possibility that she might be both. “Right. Right. Well that was uh, super nice of you. To buy Nic a house and all.” Most importantly, he wondered how Nic had ended up in a situation where a supernatural woman bought a hunter a ginormous house for saving some random person’s life. It was altruistic sure, Rio felt bad admitting to himself that he didn’t think altruism seemed like this woman’s strongest attribute. She had barely known him for five minutes and had spent four and a half of them insulting him. “All great points that I never considered. Nic did have very buff arms. Not that I ever really noticed them. I mean I noticed them because like, they were right there and I have eyes. But I never like, noticed them noticed them, y’know? I mean he was basically my dad. He wasn’t my dad for record. I just kinda wished he had been my dad.” Oh god that was a train wreck. Rio needed to find a way to recover from that volcano of embarrassment, “My real dad’s dead.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he could disappear into a void. Nailed it. “I uh- you have buff men do all your chores? That’s kinda cool.”

"No, I knew he left, I just didn't know he had...other children in his house." Maybe Deirdre didn't have any room to judge the man, she did have her own influx of young people at her house. Maybe this child really wasn't Nic then? She'd have to ask Morgan about it. "Sorry, you'll have to speak up--" Lost in her thoughts, she missed what he'd said and found herself leaning in to hear better. "Your name is Onion?" She leaned back, frowning. No wonder why he was said, his name was Onion. He was skinny and named after a vegetable. "No," she waved her hand in the air, "don't call me nice. I don't like that word being used for me." And then, as though the child wasn't sad enough, he continued to speak. So he was sad because he was skinny, named after a vegetable and had a dead father. Perhaps it was that last thing that was most important. Deirdre shifted her weight. "Onion child," she proclaimed, "you are sad because your father is dead and Nic, who was like your father, is now gone, yes? Would you be less sad if I was your father? I could wear a fake mustache. Just remember that tears stain the hardwood, and I'd like this house to maintain its value." And perhaps she ought to be kinder to him? Deirdre clapped her hand on his skinny, skinny, shoulder. "Buff men don't do my chores anymore--you could say I've become the buff man in my own life--but I do employ a few to make deliveries for me." Bind was the more accurate word, but she felt that employ would do. "I will get you a buff man to do some housework. You may call him 'daddy' like the youth seem so inclined to. And you can forward your payments through Venmo, if that's easier, Onion. How does that sound?"

“I’m actually 21.” Orion mentioned in passing after Deirdre called him a child, but it seemed she mostly glossed over it as she continued talking. Rio just nodded to himself solemnly and continued listening. This experience was repeated when he tried to correct her when she called him onion. “Oh. Uh- sorry for calling you nice?” That was an odd thing to be dismissive about, but to each their own. This was probably the strangest he had ever had with another human being. Or, he supposed that based on what she had said earlier Dierdre may not be human at all. She called him onion and a child again and Rio only had the capacity to once again briefly chime in and correct, “Orion.” It was once again ignored. “Uh. Yeah, I mean I guess I’m pretty sad about Nic leaving” Rio had no interest in touching on the topic of his dead father. He wasn’t sure talking with a stranger about his lack of remorse over his dad dying would make her feel great about potentially letting him stay in this house she had not so nicely bought. “But it’s really okay and-” He cut himself off. Did she just offer to wear a fake mustache and be his new dad? The suggestion was so outrageously wild that Rio genuinely didn’t know whether to laugh or be very, very worried. He coughed slightly to avoid a nervous laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh uh. That’s not necessary. But yeah. No damages, for sure.” Was she actually going to let him stay here? He winced at her hand on his shoulder but didn’t react any further, choosing instead to listen to her compare herself to her former buff men, “That’s uh… deep.” But as confused as he wanted to be, he was mostly surprised to hear that the woman actually planned on letting him stay. “Oh a buff man really isn’t necessary. Especially the daddy part. But seriously? You’re letting me stay? That’s amazing, oh my god. I’m really inclined to call you nice right now, but I’m going to resist.” Rio didn't, however, resist jumping up and down in excitement. He had his own qualms about staying along in this large house, but he definitely hated the idea of having to move his stuff again anymore. “Also uh- it’s Orion.”

There was something peculiar about Onion. Well, most things, it seemed, were peculiar about him. But he seemed, in addition to being scrawny, sad and pathetic, to also want to insist that his name was Orion instead. Deirdre refused. She had been wrong once (debatably; she still needed to ask Morgan about this) and that was already too many times for her to be wrong in a day. Whether the kid liked it or not, he was Onion. Deirdre shifted her weight and quirked a brow up at the boy, “why wouldn’t I let you stay? No, don’t answer that. You’re sure to have some sad response like…’everyone kicks me out because I weep uncontrollably in the night’.” Deirdre looked around. The house she purchased was never meant to be any one’s home. Strange as it was, Nic struck her as the type that couldn’t settle in one place. And Skylar…. Deirdre shook her head. It was this sad child’s home now, and Deirdre had no intentions of taking it away. “Onion,” she began, “I suspect I must’ve been a bad landlord to Nic and Skylar.” She has been a normal one, truly, having never attended to any of their housely needs. “But I want you to know that that changes now. If you need anything–a father, protein, more tissues for your tears–you may contact me. And my offer to be your father remains. No child should be sad or ugly, and least of all not both.” In her head, her words felt like a grand speech of emotional proportions. She was sure Onion would think of this later and cry. “And with that, I believe I should leave you alone to cry…?”

It was quickly dawning on Orion that talking to his new landlord wasn’t so much possible as talking at her while she spoke over him. It wasn’t exactly a huge issue aside from her insistence that his name was onion and her repeated mentions of what a sad boy he was. Despite this, he figured he could look past all of that if it meant that he had a place to live. He almost chimed in with potential reasons why she wouldn’t let him stay at the house until she kept him off, filling in the gaps for him with mentions of stories and crying. “I wouldn’t call it uncontrollable…” Rio rattled off absentmindedly, more to convince himself than his landlord since clearly she wasn’t listening to much of what Rio was saying. “Right. Um well, I really appreciate this. I will be sure to reach out if I need anything, but really I think you’ll find me to be a very quiet tenant. Just paying what I owe and probably not any of those other mentioned things. Especially the dad thing.” Because the dad thing was definitely weird, even by Rio’s messed up standards. She managed to get one more double insult off and Rio just nodded his head solemnly, resigned to his own fate. Was this how every reaction with the woman going to go? “Won’t be crying, but will be enjoying having a house to live in!” Rio gave the girl a thumbs up and a smile, “It was… nice to meet you?” It came out as more of a question than anything else, mostly because he hadn’t convinced himself it was true before saying it.

“Yes it was nice to meet me…” Deirdre trailed off, nose high to the ceiling and, with what she imagined to be great humility, lowered her head slowly to meet the child’s gaze. “And, I suppose, not so terrible to meet you, sad child.” She had a feeling he wasn’t the sort to bother others with his problems, and she imagined she really wouldn’t be hearing much from him. At the idea, a peculiar stab of something (an emotion quite like that of dropping ice cream on the ground) struck her slow-beating heart. She shook her head, and moved to the door. Whatever the child would do, wherever he would go, he was nothing but a speck on the earth and a drop in time’s fast-flowing river. But to her, he was her tenant. And she, his landlord. And perhaps business bred fondness, or perhaps she truly was more sentimental than she imagined, but she considered for a moment that he ought to have his little water drop of a life feel special. And this house, a home. “Orion,” she corrected, her hand pressed to the door frame as she turned her head only half towards him, watching from the corner of her eye. “Don’t live a life you’ll regret.” She turned her head back. “And stop being so ugly.” And with that, she shut the door behind her.

#wickedswriting #know your onions #c: orion #chatzy #// this was very fun all the shouts out to cody #cody is-as the kids say-the best #also i guess deirdre shames rio for being a twink ?

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

Text

a night in | peter parker

summary: queens’ coolest friends group of smarty pants is back with fun sing-alongs, some life advice and a few hilarious childhood stories while peter can’t keep his hands off you

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: swearing and quick mentions of violence and vandalism

word count: 2.2k

song: Boys Ain’t Shit (feat. Tate McRae & Audrey Mika) by SAYGRACE

a/n: this is for everyone out there who would like some company on a boring friday night. just hang out with peter and the gang:)

↳ masterlist

* * *

“These boys ain’t shit, I’m not here for it,” you sang on top of your lungs while holding the white blanket around the nape of your neck, hips moving to the beat.

“If you want me, act like it. Act like it!” MJ sang the next line and twirled around the kitchen counter while carelessly throwing her hands up in the air. You met halfway and locked eyes with each other, a sparkling gleam dancing in them.

“These boys get pissed. ‘Cause I won’t stand for it.” MJ threw her hair over her shoulder and you cheered her on, “If you want the sweet life then act like it!” The LED lights dunked your skin in vibrating pink.

You were just two careless girls, dancing and singing their hearts out on a Friday night while the music was blasting through the speakers. “Run it backwards, don’t be such an asshole, run it backwards, run it, run it back— “

Suddenly the joyful moment ended when the music was abruptly turned off. Your heads snapped to the door, ready to cuss out the person who cruelly paused your music.

When the harsh lights were switched on, you could see them standing in the doorway: Your very confused boyfriend and his amused best friend, each of them holding bags of food.

“So this is what you do when we’re gone for ten minutes?” Ned asked with a grin on his face while setting his stuff on the kitchen counter. MJ rolled her eyes at him and fished out a can of soda, replying, “Always. Next thing on the list would be a pillow fight and a makeover.”

You walked to the living room to put away your fluffy blanket and called out, “Don’t forget sneaking out to meet up with leather jacket-wearing biker gangs.” As you turned back around, two strong arms slung around your waist and the familiar curls were nestled into the side of your face as Peter placed soft kisses on your neck.

Melting into his embrace right away, you smiled at his affectionate greeting. “Missed me?”

“You tell me,” he mumbled into your neck and you giggled slightly at the vibration, “I’m gone for two seconds and my girlfriend sings about boys not being shit.”

You gently removed him from your neck before he could reach your sweet spot and rested your hands at the back of his neck to face him. A sweet pout was resting on his puckered lips and you couldn’t help but peck them, immediately conjuring a smile.

“I was just jamming out to a song with MJ.” He cocked his head to the side to mutely question the song choice, but you just shrugged. “Besides,” you said with a smirk while playing with his hair, “you know, you ain’t shit, Parker.”

He gasped at you and placed his hand over his chest, making you laugh at his dramatic gesture. “But I love you anyway.” You leaned forward and captured his cold lips with yours.

The familiar warmth promptly welcomed you and rose from your stomach to your chest and the distinct chatter of your friends quickly vanished into the background. Peter melted into the kiss and you smiled at the impact you had on him.

When you pulled back, he instantly pressed your waist closer, prolonging the soft-lipped kiss. Not wanting to let go either, you moved your lips with his whilst soft curls slipped through your fingertips.

When his tongue glided over your bottom lip to ask for permission to enter, you had to fight everything in you to not let him take control and instead, reluctantly pulled away, leaving your lips disappointedly cold again.

“We wanted to spend the evening with MJ and Ned, remember?”

“They have food in there, they’ll be fine,” he waved you off and went in for another kiss, but you turned your head to the side, making him peck your cheek instead.

“Come on Pete, we promised them.” Groaning slightly, he pouted again and you wanted nothing more than to just plant thousands of kisses on his soft lips. Instead, you dragged him back into the kitchen.

And that’s how the four of you ended up on the living room floor, eating takeout pizza and exchanging embarrassing childhood stories.

You were cuddled in between your boyfriend’s legs and listening to Ned’s funny memory as Peter mindlessly drew circles on your waist with his fingers.

“And because nobody was paying attention to him, I had no other choice but to scream out his name while preparing myself for the impact!”

“You had to prepare yourself for the impact?” you laughed and MJ shook her head with a look of disapproval on her face, though she couldn’t help but grin herself, “You yeeted the poor blind kid across the playground!” You burst out laughing.

“Dude, pushing over a blind guy is not cool,” Peter chocked out between his laughter, your back feeling his chest vibrate.

“I was on a swing!” Ned defended, still aware that it was all kinds of messed up, “What kindergarten teacher lets a blind kid walk up to the swings?! That’s child neglectment!”

Everyone burst out laughing again, tears were almost streaming down your face. Eyeing your half-eaten pizza, you turned your head and handed it to Peter who wordlessly grabbed it and took a bite off it.

You smiled up at him and loved how he had a great time. He deserved every second of joy and happiness. Noticing you stare at him, he curiously looked down at you and you just silently exchanged warm smiles. A sparkling gleam was dancing in your eyes and Peter felt his heart flutter again.

Sometimes he couldn’t get over the fact that you were his. The funniest, smartest and kindest girl out there was sitting in between his legs, sharing her pizza with him. God, he was lucky.

He bent down and pecked your lips. Your nose scrunched at the heavy taste of onions, but Peter just gave you a lopsided grin.

“So what happened next?” MJ asked and picked up a bag of skittles off the floor, ripping it open to hand it to Ned.

It was an unspoken rule in your group that he always gets the bag first since he only eats the red skittles.

“Our parents were called in and I was expelled for the rest of the day,” Ned explained sheepishly and picked out his skittles.

“Getting expelled in kindergarten,” you chuckled, “Ned Leeds, you are a wild one.” He shrugged with a huge grin on his face, returning the bag of sweets to MJ.

“Well, if you want to talk about being a wild one, how about you share a story now, babe?” Peter nudged your side and you grimaced, nibbling on your bottom lip.

MJ nodded while leaning back on her arms, “It’s your turn.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “I know like nothing about your childhood.”

You snatched the skittles bag from MJ and acted like you were deeply invested in picking out a specific colored skittle. “Because there’s nothing to tell,” you mumbled, clearly embarrassed of your younger self, but as always, Peter caught it with his enhanced hearing.

“Your mom told me what you were like as a child. There’s plenty to tell!” he urged and you elbowed him, but he just snickered, finding it adorable that you believed you could hurt him in any way.

“You seriously need to stop having dinner with my mom.” You deadpanned but you just felt him shrug.

“She makes the best lasagna.”

The others agreed, “She really does.”

“Bless that woman’s lasagna.”

You groaned and threw the bag in the middle of the floor for the others to grab. “Since when is everybody having dinner with my mom?”

“You wouldn’t know, you’re never home.” MJ shrugged, causing a pang of guilt in your chest.

“I get it, I’m too busy,” you mumbled while playing with the sweets in your hands.

“Well,” Ned eyed you and glanced at Peter who was absentmindedly playing with your hair, “you do have a lot on your plate with all the extracurriculars. You can always drop some, you know.”

Sensing the growing discomfort, Peter let go of your hair and hugged you from behind, pressing you against his chest. You naturally melted into his embrace and his heartbeat calmed you down.

“I guess I could drop one or two,” you mumbled and the others gazed at you knowingly.

“You know,” MJ spoke up in her monotonous voice that indicated that she tried to be gentle, “there’s nothing wrong with giving up on something if you don’t enjoy it anymore. No shame in that.”

“She’s right,” Peter encouraged, “babe, you don’t have to keep going just because you don’t want to let other people down. Whether it is the marching band or the speech and debate team, they’ll be fine without you. Do what makes you happy.”

The others agreed and the corners of your mouth turned up. You were grateful for moments like these with your friends.

They were right, you haven’t had dinner at home with your mom for a while now and you couldn’t even remember the last time you properly talked to her or even to your friends. You were always out, always doing something and always trying to please somebody.

“Thanks guys, I really needed this.”

MJ gave you a two-finger way and Ned beamed at you. You felt Peter place a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you honestly never wanted this evening to end.

“Anyway,” Ned announced loudly, “before we got all emotional, it was Y/n’s turn to share an embarrassing childhood story.”

The others nodded and you plastered a smile on your face, deciding on telling them a rather harmless story of your childhood. They would get to hear the cooler ones eventually.

“So,” you clapped your hands together and set the scene, “when I was 6 years old, I had to pop into the store around the corner to get some eggs for my mom since she was sick and on bed rest. But on my way home, I ran into this boy who I had a crush on and I was super embarrassed because I was wearing these pink barbie pajamas that I really did not want him to see me in.” You rolled your eyes at your younger self.

“But there was no way to hide from him since he was coming my way and I had to go down the street from the direction that he came from.”

“Very thrilling,” Ned commented while popping mini pretzels into his mouth. MJ swatted him with her hand to shut him up. You smiled at that motion and continued,

“But to my luck, a police car just pulled up and what my 6-year-old super brain immediately came up with was that instead of letting him think that I was a girly wimp, I could be a super cool badass right in front of him.”

“Of course what every 6-year-old aspires to be,” Peter snorted and Ned added, “Understandably.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes at them. “So I pulled out the eggs and threw them on the windshield of that police car while also making sure that the boy witnessed it all.”

Ned slapped his hand on his forehead, staring at you bewildered, whereas MJ just proudly grinned at you.

“Obviously, the cops jumped out of the car and chased me down. Clearly haven’t thought it through, I ran as fast as I could to escape them but when I passed the boy, he tripped me!”

A collective gasp left their mouths as they gaped at you with wide eyes.

“Turns out, he was the cop’s son,” you paused for dramatic effect, “and he was disgustingly proud of having stopped me.” Peter let out an irritated huff and you mindlessly rubbed circles into his arm.

“When the cops asked me why I did what I did, I obviously told them the truth because you know I suck at lying. The boy, of course, had to hear all of it and was just as awkward about it as me.” A small laugh escaped your lips as you remembered the memory clearly. “To my luck, they found it adorable, so they just drove me home with a simple warning,” you ended your story and popped another skittle into your mouth.

Ned shook his head at you comically, “Nope Y/n, I take everything back. You are the wild one. Shoving a blind kid doesn’t sound that bad anymore compared to your story.”

“It’s still just as bad, Ned,” MJ interjected and gave him a pointed look.

Peter leaned forward to catch your gaze. “I can’t believe you did that.” He smiled at you amused but you just shrugged it off and grinned at him.

“It’s nice to be wanted, you know?”

He stared at you horrified as everybody laughed. “Not by the law!”

* * *

quarantine sucks, i miss my friends:( anyway, this was a lot of fun to write so feel free to leave some feedback, send in requests or talk to me!

check out more of my stuff on my masterlist and if you don’t, that’s fine too. buh-bye!

#i think a night in with them would be so much fun damn #man i need friends who like to stay in #what i would give to have a cool night with mj and ned #spiderman #marvel #mcu #peter parker x reader #peter parker drabble #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #fluff #peter parker fluff #ned and mj

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densi-mber · 3 years

Text

TLC

A/N: For today’s prompt. Takes place shortly after Deeks returns in season 5. This one’s a bit angsty and explores some possible PTSD symptoms.

***

“Hey, what do you want for lunch?” Kensi asked, holding her phone up as she waited for Deeks’ reply. “Callen is going to that new deli.”

Deeks didn’t respond and after a minute she glanced up, frowning when she realized he was still bent over his desk, face obscured by his hair.

“Deeks!” He looked up slowly, his expression slightly confused, and a little vacant.

“What?” he said finally. His voice sounded rough, like he hadn’t spoken in a while. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard him talking as much as he normally would. In fact, Sam and Callen had an in-depth discussion about which of them would win in a triathlon and Deeks barely contributed.

“Lunch,” she repeated. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m not really hungry.” He scratched at his beard, making a face and looked back down at his work.

“You sure?”

“Yup.” He started typing again, effectively ending the conversation, but Kensi watched him for a few more minutes. He looked thinner than usual Kensi realized and tried to remember if she’d seen him eat lunch at all this week.

Maybe she’d grab him a sandwich anyways.

***

Kensi tried not to let it bother her. Deeks wasn’t hungry, it wasn’t the end of the world. It was his first week back from the most horrific time of his life and his behavior wasn’t going to be completely normal.

Still, she found herself watching him for the rest of the day. He’d refused the extra sandwich she’d got him, even seeming a little annoyed that she was bothering him. On top of that, he was definitely withdrawn, quieter than normal. It was like something had been dimmed inside him, she realized.

Sighing, Kensi tossed her pen down, giving up on the paperwork she was supposed to turn in by tomorrow. It was after 8 and she and Deeks were the only ones still there. He seemed almost oblivious to her presence which gave her plenty of time to observe him.

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked about surfing or Monty’s latest shenanigans at the dog park. It terrified her; not just because it felt like she was losing her best friend, but also because she’d seen this before.

With Jack. He’d started out the same way. In their last few months together barely talked some days, unless it was to argue. She hadn’t been able to do anything to help Jack, but she could certainly make sure the same thing didn’t happen to Deeks.

She started to say something to him, but held back, knowing he’d just brush her off or change the subject. Her stomach growled and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten since lunch. She glanced at him one more time, but he still seemed completely preoccupied and didn’t look up once as she grabbed her bag and quietly left the room.

“Who’s the best partner ever?” Kensi sang about 20 minutes later, waving a foam container under Deeks’ nose. He grimaced, leaning back a little with a vaguely confused face.

“Is that chicken soup?” he asked, sniffing. The shadows under his eyes were visible even in the less than stellar lighting, but she smiled like everything was fine.

“Yup. Your favorite kind, with extra noodles.” She pried the lid off and set it in front of Deeks along with a plastic spoon. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head.

“I’m not really that hungry.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said earlier and I’m not buying it, so drink up,” she urged him. Deeks crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“Kensi, I’m-“

“Deeks, when’s the last time you ate?” she interrupted. He looked stumped by her question, scratching at his beard again and then reaching for his hair. He ruffled it a couple times, shrugging.

“I don’t know, this morning I guess.” It came out sounding more like a question, which did not reassure her at all. She pushed back the memory of Jack not eating for days at a time.

“Well, you should eat this now before it gets cold and gross.” He nudged the spoon with his pinky finger, but didn’t move to actually pick it up.

“You know, I’m not going to wither away or something,” he told her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Kensi realized she been staring at him again, only now he was well aware of her presence.

“No,” she agreed. “But it’s not good for you to skip meals. You-“ she paused and sighed, rubbing her palms against her thighs. “You need to eat.”

Deeks looked like he might argue some more, but then the fight went out of him. He grabbed the spoon, scooping up a noodle and chicken heavy bite of soup.

“Are you going to watch me? Cause that would be kind of creepy.”

“No, I’m going to eat with you.” Kensi pulled a second, larger container from her bag, sighing as she pulled off the lid and sat down across from Deeks. He chuckled as she ate three bites in quick succession and tossed him a packet of crackers without looking. From the sound of it, he’d caught them.

“You’re going to spoil me,” he said a couple minutes later. Kensi was satisfied to see he was eating, if at an admittedly much slower rate than her. “First Chinese and now soup.”

“Don’t forget the cronut,” Kensi added around her spoon, a little surprised he’d brought up that night.

“Oh, I will never forget the cronut of love.” She snorted, nearly inhaling soup, and he handed her a napkin.

“Please tell me that you didn’t eat it.”

“Of course not. I’m having it lacquered so I can keep it by my bed for eternity,” Deeks said, grinning for the first time all day. It was nice to see.

“You are so weird,” Kensi said and if her voice was a little more fond than normal, neither of them mentioned it.

They ate in silence for a couple minutes until Deeks started to slow down, his bucket about half empty. He fiddled with his spoon, aimlessly stirring around bits of carrot and onion. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a moment before he looked back down at the mini tsunami revolving in his soup cup.

“I’ll be ok. You know that, right?” Kensi stalled, eating another bite before she answered. He certainly looked more alert and marginally happier than half an hour ago.

“Yeah, of course you will.” She just hoped she wasn’t lying to both of them.

#densimber 2020 #densimber 4.0 #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #angst #densimber day 18 #ncis la fanfiction #by ejzah

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jaembby · 3 years

Text

three course meals

Pairing: (SF9) Jaeyoon x f reader

warnings: none

words: 1.6k

prompt: hi~! 😳can i request a fic featuring sf9 jaeyoon please? (◕‿◕ )the plot is he is doing his "I can do it" live series. this time he is challenged to cook the recipe from his gf (let's say it's a 3 course meal) and then his gf is telling all the cooking step through a phone call. in the end of the live broadcast, his gf come visits him to try the meal that he made.stay healthy, stay happy and have a great day~ 🥺🥰🧡

requested: yes! by @jsnyoung

a/n: i’m really tired right now so i haven’t proof read this yet. maybe i’ll do it in the morning. the writing is probably going to be shitty because i’ve rushed it a bit and am literally about to fall asleep but if it’s too bad, when i proof read it, i’ll fix some bits up! sorry for the wait @jsnyoung but thank you for requesting!!

-----

“What do you guys think I’m doing today?” Jaeyoon asks his fans as he waits for your call. Today, Jaeyoon is getting you, his girlfriend, to help with his “I can do it” live series. He’s going to cook a three-course meal of your choice with you guiding him through the phone. What he doesn’t know, however, is that you’re planning on getting him to make one of the courses the same meal that you and him had ordered on your first date.

“’Are you going to make something?’ Good question! As a matter of fact, yes, I am making something! And hopefully it turns out okay... if not, blame y/n!” Jaeyoon laughs as he reads comments, awaiting your phone call.

“ ‘When are you going to start? What are you going to make?’ Well... honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m going to make. Today, y/n is going to tell me what to make over the phone so I’ll start as soon as she calls!” Jaeyoon smiles at the camera as he awaits your call. ring He picks up on the first ring, eager to get started.

“Angel you’re going on speaker and I’m live, okay? I mean you already know that but I’m just reminding you.” Jaeyoon says quietly into the phone before turning back to the camera and introducing you. “Fantasy, as some of you probably know, this is my girlfriend. Y/n say hi to Fantasy!”

“Hi” You say happily as you get a recipe for what Jaeyoon is going to make. “Today, our Jaeyoon is going to make a three-course meal! With the hepl of yours truly, of course.” Jaeyoon laughs into the phone at your statement as he questions you on what it is that he’s actually meant to be making.

“I’m glad you asked, Jae. Well, for the appetizer, it’s a chicken salad. It’s easy enough so you shouldn’t need too much guidance, or at least, I hope not.” You tease him. Jaeyoon starts getting what he needs from the fridge and cupboard as you read out the comments. “ ‘Jaeyoon should cook for Fantasy!’ ‘y/n should be in his lives more!’ ‘Eat well!’ Thank you for the last one! Also yes, Jaeyoon should totally cook for you guys and feature me in his lives more often!” “Nuh-uh, princess! You’ll take all my fans away!” You laugh at this as you jokingly tell him that he might be right before instructing him on what to put in the salad and how much.

Soon enough, Jaeyoon’s finished with the first course and puts it in the fridge for later. “Angel, what’s next?” He asks you just as you get a recipe up for the next meal. “Well, my dear boyfriend, I’m sure you’d be familiar with this one. If you remember what we had on our first date, that is!” You say excitedly into the phone as you tell him what he needs. “Okay... I’m sure Jae already knows what he’s making but Fantasy, in case you haven’t guessed already, it’s a creamy tuscan chicken! We actually had this on our first date so it’s pretty special for him to make this.” “Here we go again... y/n being hopelessly romantic!” Jaeyoon laughs as he begins to season the chicken. “Jaeyoon! Look, your fans think it’s cute!” It’s as if Jaeyoon can hear your pout over the phone as you complain about him calling you hopelessly romantic. “Angel, don’t worry, I think it’s cute too!” “I know” You giggle.

Jaeyoon heats the oil in the pan and starts placing the chicken in. “You know, I’m doing pretty good. If I do say so myself!” Jaeyoon smiles proudly at the camera. “Oh! I should tell Fantasy about that one time you nearly burnt the FNC building down!” You say with a smirk, although no one could see it. “Will you ever stop teasing me for it?” “Nope!” You say as he flips the chicken over. “Look, all of your fans want to know what happened! Can I tell them? Please?” You ask. “Fine!” He draws out the syllables. “I mean you were going to anyway, weren’t you?” “Yeah I was!” You laugh at the slight redness on your boyfriends cheeks.

“Well, one day I was over at the dorm hanging out with Jae and the guys and he decided to make ramen! Now, he’s not a bad cook, considering he’s only ever used recipes. Anyways, we all decided to watch a movie. It was about half way through when Jaeyoon decided he wanted to make the ramen so he got up and did that. He’d left the ramen in the water for a bit and came back to see what was happening as he let it cook. Jae must have lost track of time because all of a sudden, Chani comes in and asks “Hyung, what’s that smell?” We all turned towards the kitchen as we saw smoke and Jae realized what he’s done. It was so funny! All of a sudden, Youngbin, Zuho, Jaeyoon and Rowoon all rushed to the kitchen while Dawon recorded and Inseong, Taeyang, Hwiyoung, Chani and myself burst out laughing. It turns out the ramen had been left for too long and had caught on fire so Youngbin, Zuho and Rowoon had to put it out. It’s safe to say that Rowoon sticks to cooking in the dorms now. Hey Jae, ask Dawon if he still has the video!” You laugh at the memory as you read the comments on Jaeyoon’s live. Fantasy all find it funny, too.

Jaeyoon’s already added the garlic, onions, tomatoes and spinach into the mix and is now putting the cream, salt and pepper into it. “Well it looks like I’m a much better cook now since there’s no fire this time! Y/n, do you know what you want me to make for dessert? I’m nearly done with this, angel.” Jaeyoon says as he adds the last ingredients - parmesan cheese and parsley - and stirs the mixture before mixing it one last time and putting the creamy chicken into the oven so it stays warm.

“As a matter of fact, I do know what to make next! How does Brownies sound?” You laugh as you see his face light up on the live. “Sounds perfect!” Jaeyoon says as he gets everything he needs to make them. You and him have made brownies together so many times that it’s just muscle memory now. The recipe is implanted in both of your heads. You smile while watching his live as he starts making them without needing any instructions.

“We have to make brownies when you come over again, y/n. It’s our thing.” Jaeyoon says as he pops them into the oven and turns back to the live, smiling as he starts reading comments. “ ‘Jaeyoon how are you?’ ‘What have you eaten today?’ ‘What’s everyone else doing?’ Okay firstly, I’m good, how about you? Second, I’ve had a few snacks but when these brownies are done, y/n should be here and we’ll eat them together. Speaking of which, y/n, you can get off the phone now and come over! Third, honestly I’m not sure what everyone else is doing. I think they’re just relaxing.” After Jaeyoon finishes what he was saying, you quickly tell him that you’re heading over now before getting into your car and driving over to the dorms.

“Boo!”

“Y/N! You scared me!”

“Yeah that was the whole point!” You laugh as Jae calms his heartbeat.

“You clear the bench and I’ll get the brownies out, Jae.” You call out to him, already making your way over to the oven.

“Well thank you so much for joining me for another episode of “I can do it” today, Fantasy! I’ll feature y/n in lives more if you want? As it turns out, I’m a pretty good cook. We’d better get going now before the food gets cold! Bye bye Fantasy! Goodnight or morning! See you later!” And with that, your boyfriend ends the live.

“Jae, I’ve got to admit, this all looks amazing! Let’s eat!” You say as you portion the food. Jaeyoon brings the plates over to the living room where he places the food on a table and moves couch pillows out of the way so the two of you can sit there.

“Why are we eating on the couch today? I thought Bin didn’t want us to make it messy.” You ask, bringing extra napkins in case anything spills.

“Well, angel, I want to cuddle while we eat brownies and sitting at the kitchen table’s not really ideal in that scenario, is it? Besides, it’s comfy here.” Jaeyoon smiles up at you as he puts the salad bowl and two forks between you. You smile up at him as you eat the salad he made, proud of your boyfriend’s cooking skills... even if this is just a salad. Soon enough you’ve both finished and are onto the second of the three courses.

“Jae is amazing!” You say as you take a bite of the creamy chicken. It really does taste good. Now you’re even prouder of him! You’ve both moved onto dessert now and Jaeyoon moves the plate of brownies to the side before patting the space next to him.

“Come here, angel.” He says with a pout. You move closer to your boyfriend and lean on him as he wraps his arms around your frame. The two of you stay like that for a while, finding comfort in each other’s warmth and taking in the faint smell of brownies and him.

“Thanks for helping me today, princess. You’re an amazing instructor” Jaeyoon giggles, his voice calming and soft like honey.

“You’re welcome, baby! You’re an amazing cook.” You retort with a smile and small giggle as a content sigh leaves your lips, and Jaeyoon pulls you closer, the both of you staying in this position and eventually falling asleep to the sound of the other’s heartbeat.

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ravenkinnie · 3 years

Text

ao3

Cass isn’t big on teams which seems to be uncommon in her family.

It’s not that she hates working with others, getting away from Gotham to go on a mission with Birds of Prey is a genuine joy. It’s more that… she knows Oracle and she knows Birds; they work well together. Cass is not sure if people who don’t know her are comfortable with how she works.

She thinks that worries Bruce. Well, Barbara thinks it does.

So, Cass is gathering her wits after being knocked off her feet by a metahuman build like a brick house; she thinks maybe, just maybe, Titans missions are not necessarily within her range when a sudden surge in energy somewhere around her almost knocks her off her feet again. She would be annoyed but then there’s a hand on her shoulder and Raven reaches out with her other hand and the metahuman who was about to rearrange her bones flinches away violently.

Raven looks at her, seemingly mindless of whatever visions she sent onto him. Cass is reminded of unclear wild lakes she used to make her home, how the seaweed would grab at her ankles sometimes, dragging her down, and her heart thumps inside her chest once, strongly, on beat and then the energy is gone and Raven with it, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Titans missions are not within her range. Cass has never backed down from a challenge, though.

***

Duke has his ribs broken. Cass thinks it’s kind of dumb for metahumans not to have healing powers. She doesn’t think he will appreciate her opinion so she stays quiet; Barbara would call it growth.

She just keeps her arm on his shoulder as he cringes through Raven’s attempt to assess the damage with her hands. “It’s extensive,” she says, and Cass doesn’t worry; Raven’s stoic demeanour doesn’t change with the realisation.

Duke’s breath hitches. He’s about to say something and then his muscles relax and he gasps in surprise. Her brother will be okay, the momentary tension in Raven’s torso tells Cass that.

“Okay, yeah… that’s incredible,” Duke smiles at Raven and Cass squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Raven stands up, looks up from Duke right at her. It’s a small gesture, a flicker but Cass feels like she needs to stand her ground against it. “It seems pointless to create superhumans and not let them heal themselves, doesn’t it?”

Cass laughs, no point in keeping that in, Raven would feel her surprise and amusement anyway. She laughs and she’s glad she does because Raven seems pleased, but she shies away almost immediately. Cass wonders if Raven blushes on her chest when she’s flustered like Steph does.

“So, she does hate me,” Duke states, his voice is light but Cass sees some hurt in the lines of his mouth.

“She really likes you,” it’s true, there’s some gentleness and newfound fondness in the way Raven pressed her palms against his bruised chest.

Duke accepts her words but his body screams doubt. It’s odd how often her family would rather believe their own versions than trust her expertise.

***

She doesn’t really have a reason to be here. Well, she does – Damian has been staying between the Tower and the Manor more and more lately. Cass would lie if she said she didn’t miss his strained, expressive presence by her side in Gotham. It’s good for him to train with others, Dick said, be with heroes his age. He’s probably right but something in her rears its head to ask if its’ wrong to want her family close. Sometimes Cass can’t ignore that.

She takes a peep from inside the control room over the training hall. One of the younger boys Titans took in (Cass has never been good with names) is talking to Damian, his hands outstretched in an open, teasing manner. Damian frowns but Cass knows him, there’s no malice behind the expression.

“Vic said someone came around,” she turns around and Donna leans in the doorway, smiles at her warmly. Cass hasn’t really had much contact with her but Dick’s features when he talks about his best friend tell her everything, so she smiles back. “You should come down, I’m sure Jamie –“ ah, Cass thinks, Jamie”- would love to watch you two spar.”

Cass nods and Donna leaves. She lingers around, wondering if she should ask but also… maybe patience pays off. She considers it for a moment, shrugs off her sweatshirt and heads out of the room, leaving it draped over the back of a chair.

Cass is sure Bruce would not be happy with her motives. He should be proud of making her a strategist.

***

Cass has her routine.

It comes naturally to her at this point, every step and jump and punch rehearsed and repeated and planned out years in advance. That’s why it works, there’s no room to calculate how to land, how to twist her wrist or tense her muscles to soften the jumps and the kicks. Cass can recreate it and focus on the burn in her muscles and the clicks of her joints.

Barbara thinks she gets it, the calming effect of repeating known movements. Cass isn’t sure she knows how to explain the pleasure in not just knowing but feeling her body has limits. She’s not sure she understands the push and pull herself.

She lands harder than necessary, sending shockwaves through her legs, when the air crackles with energy and she knows who it is before the figure materialises.

Raven has one of her hands in her coat pocket, the other one holding the sweatshirt Cass left at the Titans tower. She raises her eyebrow in tune with the hand holding the garment. “I thought I would drop this off.”

Cass can put on an act but there is no point, really. Not with most people, definitely not with Raven. “Good,” she shoots her a toothy smile.

Raven smiles back, Cass is sure it’s involuntary because she catches herself; her eyes travel around the cave briefly. Her hair is messy, the shorter pieces of her fringe must be tickling her cheek. Cass wishes she could tell if Raven notices that.

“So,” Raven says, looking back at her; the smile playing at the sides of her mouth looks voluntary this time. “I think you should invite me upstairs.”

***

So, Cass ends up on the couch with her brother’s teammate, their legs tangled together. She unbuttoned Raven’s shirt hastily, the gap in the material is small and uneven but Cass – Cass needed to see her hand against that smooth, pale landscape of skin.

Raven kisses her with purpose, her lips catching Cass’ own in tune with the hard thumping heartbeats in Cass’ chest; she thinks maybe there’s another tune coming from her, one only Raven can feel, one that guides her, one that says this is a good moment to pull away, that this is an even better moment to come back and catch Cass’ bottom lip with her teeth.

It’s a good rhythm, Cass very much likes that rhythm, especially when Raven tangles one of her hands in her messy hair and angles her head just enough to tease her lips with the tip of her tongue and her other hand travels down Cass’ back, her leg realigning between Cass’ own and oh-

-oh, that’s a very good rhythm.

***

Cass opens the door to the manor kitchen with her elbow and almost spills her iced coffee. She kind of hopes no one is around to see it but no such luck.

Bruce sits by the kitchen island, his face unshaved and a Tupperware container in his hand. He seems lost in thought when she walks in but blinks it away and says, “Morning, Cassie.”

“Morning,” she takes the seat across from him.

Bruce watches her carefully. He always watches her carefully. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” She woke up half an hour ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. Damian didn’t exactly ask her to make a day trip with him to an art gallery opening in Metropolis, but she could see how his body vibrated with pure excitement. As much as he tried to hide his hopes, he couldn’t quite crack it with her. Cass isn’t a secret fan of modern art but she is a secret fan of watching Damian talk about it with barely contained joy and passion.

Bruce probably knows it all anyway. “I’ll ask Alfred to pack you some leftovers.”

Cass is pretty sure that’s Bruce’s way of making amends. He’s probably not even sure what exactly he’s making amends for anymore but the drive is stronger. Cass remembers a brief argument she started at a patrol once, just to rile Damian up jokingly, about how much better honeydew melons were than cantaloupes. She didn’t think Bruce listened to any of their bickering but the next day she opened her fridge to find it filled with pre-cut honeydew melons.

Cass is pretty sure Alfred had nothing to do with it. The fact that she didn’t like raw vitamins bothered him too much to attempt that.

Damian bursts into the kitchen, his coat only halfway on, Ace right behind him. He snaps at her, tells her to hurry up and is out the door almost immediately so Cass gives Bruce a quick hug goodbye and skips outside right behind her brother.

It’s not until she adjusts her rear-view mirror that she notices a pink-purple mark on her collarbone, just above the hem of her shirt.

Well. Healing powers don’t mean anything if you don’t use them.

***

“That’s a lot of fruit,” Raven frowns at her fridge.

Cass is chopping vegetables through onion-induced tears, so she just signs “yeah” and tries to explain Bruce’s fruit-based love language. Raven checks on the stir fry on Cass’ barely used stove, frowning more through the story.

Raven detangled herself from Cass’ arms earlier that evening, declared her eating habits sad, and send her to the store while rummaging through the cupboards to find kitchen utensils. Cass doesn’t mind, really; her diet consists mostly of beef jerky and chicken ramen; she’s pretty sure Raven’s vegan.

“So, you have a fridge full of your father’s love,” Raven teases; her brow smooths and she points her spoon at Cass. “Something about you just makes people want to feed you, I guess.”

Raven put on her oversized men’s flannel and left the buttons undone so Cass can trail down the hollow of her throat, through the valley between the slopes of her breasts, down the line of her stomach to the waistband of the boxers she also stole from Cass.

“I guess,” she repeats.

Turns out cilantro tastes like soap. Cass washes the aftertaste out between Raven’s thighs.

***

Whatever they have going on between them, whatever it is that they settle into at the end of the day - it's unlike any other relationship Cass experienced before.

She's not unfamiliar with friendships. Her and Steph build a camaraderie based on incessant picking each other up and pushing and pulling and laughing and crying for each other and together. Cass knows what it's like to settle into couch cushions with Steph, pretend like neither of them is enjoying the horrible, cheesy movie they put on and mock all the parts that actually pull on their heartstrings. She knows what it's like to fall asleep to a TV playing and wake up with her face pressed into Steph's shoulder

She doesn't know if she can describe what settling on the couch with Raven feels like but it's nothing like that.

They stumbled upon a random channel in Albanian one night; Cass isn't fully sure why she has that one or why Raven speaks Albanian well enough to understand the movie; she chooses not to question some choices. Cass lounged on Raven’s chest lazily, listening to her running commentary, the light from the TV flirting with the darkness behind her closed eyes. She’s pretty sure she could feel Raven’s hand caressing her naked back at some point. Pretty sure.

Cass fell asleep with her face pressed into the rise of Ravens chest and woke up against her cushions, Raven already gone.

Cass knows dating and she knows sex. This isn’t dating, she thinks, and granted – her track record of that might not be the best. There was Kon who just didn’t feel right in the end, and there was Zero who was nice and sweet and that was all he was and there was Brenda who… there was Brenda and they never got a chance.

She knows what’s supposed to be there, though. She knows what Barbara really says when she asks Dick to check in through the comm. She knows what Tim meant when he offered to help Steph with one of her classes. This isn’t dating because neither of them offers and neither of them asks.

This is sex and it's physical and that's odd because nothing about the way Raven moves is physical. It's odd because sex is a conversation, it can be a tense one, full of awkward silences or bitten back comments, it can be a teasing back and forth. Cass knows that better than most, she knows that what is being said is more important than how it's said.

She wants to focus on how Raven says it, though, she wants to focus on how Raven found the sensitive spot on her shoulder immediately, on how she catches Cass' earlobe with her lips and pushes her legs apart just as the wanton wave in her chest starts to rise.

Because the problem is, for the first time, Cass isn't sure what is being said.

That makes her uneasy. But she thinks she would miss it if she were to wake up with her face against the cushions again.

***

The world almost ended; it feels like the world is trying to end itself every other week so there's always work for Cass to do.

She's pretty sure the work caused her internal bleeding, though, and Raven seems to agree. Her hands feel cold and delicate and Cass' head is swirling like Alfred put it through a blender, her chest, her stomach feeling like they caved in after years of unnecessary and unexpected pressure.

The stony weight in her chest dissipates, it tingles away, pins and needles in her stomach and chest until she can breathe again. Cass opens her eyes and three figures hover over her, their concern heavy in the tension of their muscles even through hard panes of their costumes. She swats her hand at Bruce and Duke, she doesn't dare extend the gesture to Raven. Cass rarely can make out clear lines of her body like she can now; Raven is worried and she's holding it back.

She opens her mouth to reassure them, them or her, but Raven tugs the top of her costume down over her stomach, covering the skin that should be bruised and mauled. She lays her hand there momentarily, meeting Cass' eyes and before Cass can take her in, she's up and she's away, checking on someone else's injuries.

Bruce helps her up while Duke blinks in disbelief. He doesn't have to clarify what he means when he says, "You are unbelievable."

Bruce thinks he means the stunt she pulled to get her stomach smashed in and launches into a longish telling-off. Cass lets him. There's only love and concern in his stance.

Bruce checks on her later and tells her to take the pilot seat in the Batplane.

"You know, Cass," Dick pipes up from somewhere behind her and if he comments on her piloting again, she might throw something at him. "It's nice to see you get along with Titans, you could make some good friends there."

"It's true, Cassie," Bruce agrees.

Cass can't turn around to look at Duke, but she can imagine his face. "Unbelievable," he sighs like he's in pain.

Her family really should trust her intuition more. Theirs barely ever works.

***

People in Gotham wind up scared to death and it's not Scarecrow so Cass takes Dick's expertise and goes to the best source she knows. Bruce grumbles about metahumans in Gotham so Dick tells him "you can tell her that yourself" which shuts Bruce up. Cass thinks it's funny because Raven makes her ask for straws in restaurants.

"It looks like Phobia," Raven frowns at the Titans computer with Batman's files displayed. She's not worried or anxious, there's a bit of a weight in her shoulders, some disappointment in the realisation that someone else might not have caught but Cass can see it from where she's perched on the conference table. Raven looks sad and even more so, she looks human and Cass thinks she hasn't thought that about Raven before - not with both of them clothed.

There must be a story there, Cass might not know the details but she thinks she understands the emotions behind it.

"I'm sorry," she doesn't mean it to express her guilt because she has no place in that story. Cass heard it said this way before instead, the way that invites to share the burden or says that you already have and she's not sure why she wants to say it like this but - she does want to. She hopes she knows how, that the words sound correct.

Raven turns around to look at her and Cass knows she understood. She grips the edges of the table hard as Raven's hands slip over her own, opens her legs apart to let her slot herself in that space. Her stomach is tight, wounding itself up in knots and she touches Ravens cheek, her jaw, her lips with her fingertips like she's trying to read her. Maybe she is, because Cass can't figure out what Raven is saying by letting her breath warm up the air between their faces, breaking their eye contact by pressing her cheek against Cass' own like she doesn't actually want to be seen but Raven’s hands move away from her hands and slide up Cass' thighs, underneath the hem of her hoodie dress and Cass thinks oh.

Oh. She offered. She's not sure if Raven asked but she offered and this isn't sex, Cass thinks as Raven's hand slides to her inner thigh and up and through one of the fishnet holes.

This is comfort, this isn't her just offering comfort, this is both of them seeking it out. This is companionship and this is blood rushing to her head even before feeling Raven’s careful, delicate touch and this is her heartbeat seeming uneven and her hand resting on the back of Raven’s head and her other hand grabbing onto Raven’s sweater before the thought of it enters her mind.

Oh, they are really in it now.

***

It's not unfamiliar but it's different. It should make Cass feel more uneasy. It should make her feel uneasy that she can't read Raven well enough to know why she responds, just how she responds.

Some bodies are confusing, she knows that, they move according to whatever inner logic they construct and Cass doesn't always know how they tell themselves these stories and they don't always make sense to her but they are always consistent. They follow the internal storyline and she might not understand the world-building but she gets the plot points.

Ravens storyline feels and looks... fragmented, broken up, like she put together different pieces that lack context, that don't follow the same storytelling rules. She lays next to Cass, her body soft and pliable and then she will doze off and tense in her sleep like she's keeping watch but Cass knows nightmares and she knows Raven doesn't have those. Sometimes Raven whispers into her skin but Cass never understands the language, she's not sure if Raven is even speaking to her because it feels private, it feels like Raven’s confirming something for herself only. They will head out to grab food and Raven will fix her jacket collar, brush her fingers across Cass' face and move away, her body devoid of meaning.

Cass can't understand the narrative but the scenes she catches onto, the lines and settings she grabs onto because it feels impossible to just let them hang there - it carves itself in her bones, it makes her feel like the energy that enters the room with Raven is thrumming through her fingertips, her nerve endings. There's the power and there's Raven; Raven is the power but she's also the delicacy and the phone calls she misses just to search the number and the reality shows that she doesn't like but they still make her laugh and the passionfruit allergy Cass only knows she ignores because she can taste the tartness on her tongue.

She knows the story is there but she can't access it. She's not sure if Raven can or if- or if she just doesn't want Cas to do so.

Cass should be concerned but the pit in her stomach isn't concern. It's worse.

Raven is in Gotham now; she's not so much chasing a hunch but rather following her gut and so Cass decides to follow her own on a different matter.

So, she throws herself into patrolling the west side because she knows Raven and Dick are on the east side. Gotham picked tonight to rest, it's a quiet patrol which is unfortunate as Cass would love to punch her feelings out. She mopes around on a gargoyle, considers calling Oracle and hiding in her holo-room instead but then there's a flash of yellow and Duke lands lightly on his feet in front of her. He looks extremely unimpressed.

"I think Batman likes to brood on the west side gargoyles more. You should try those," he's teasing but she thinks there's some truth to that.

"I'm not brooding," it sounds weak and Cass can't even blame her disability on that.

Duke looks at her sceptically and then really looks at her. Cass wants to grab her grapple gun and swing away from his gaze but he speaks up quicker than she expected him to. "You're actually not. Oh wow. You're really in it now."

Cass loves her brothers more than anything; there's nothing she wouldn’t do to stop any harm coming their way. That doesn't stop her from half-heartedly throwing one of her Batarangs at Duke.

She knew he would dodge it.

***

Cass can't hide from Raven, not really, maybe she doesn't want to. Raven finds her in the Batcave and she doesn't have to say that Gotham is getting to her, this time the tension in her body is clear.

So, she lets Raven whisk them away. The metaphysics of Ravens travel isn't Cass' favorite but she can forgive it. The sand under her naked body feels nice and cool, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs and she stretches out to uncover more skin.

Cass looks to the side and Raven seems lost in thought, her thumb going over the material of the jacket Cass threw over her shoulders. The small bonfire Cass lit to sooth the goosebumps on Raven’s legs illuminates her but doesn't add any warmth. It casts shadows on the few exposed bits of skin; Cass wants to piece together a story from the shapes playing out.

"We just try to change it, but it always seems to bounce back," Raven says, lips glistening in the warm light; Cass doesn't know the world-building, but she catches the plot point.

"Then we do it because it makes sense," Cass says, stumbling over the words only a little, and Raven looks at her, really looks at her, and the goosebumps on Cass' skin have little to do with the breeze and the ocean roars in her ears.

She thinks Raven is piecing together her own story from the shadows behind her words and the pit in her chest tightens but maybe she wants to push through that-

-but then the jacket drops from her shoulders and Raven has sand on her skin and she tastes like Cass.

***

Dick swings on the bars like his joints have no limits on the angles they can take and Cass copies the moves, Steph following suit. She tends to neglect stretching and flexibility part of her training sometimes but her muscles start to burn quickly, reminding her why it's not optional.

Dick lands steadily, takes a look at the clock on the gym wall and grabs the towel Barbara throws at him. "Gotta go. I'm taking Raven to lunch, she can't leave Gotham without trying the vegan Nightwings."

"She doesn't like them," Cass says automatically and chokes on her water when Dick turns to her puzzled.

"So, that's why I barely see you anymore," Barbara teases as Steph laughs hard and Cass puts her hoodie over her head to pretend she's not there.

When she emerges again, Dick looks like he's investigating the case of his lifetime. "I didn't even know Raven was gay."

"She could be bisexual, " Steph throws her arm over Cass' shoulders. "I get it, she has that whole mysterious Victorian ghost shtick going on, like you just want her to hold your face and recite Charlotte Brontë," she stops, freezes a little in her confusion. "Am I bisexual?"

Dick's puzzlement turns into full shock. "Wait, we thought you knew."

"Listen, Cass," says Barbara firmly. Cass has to focus on her words through Steph's rambling right next to her ear, "however you feel, she knows. And she's still here."

Barbara doesn't read people like Cass does but she does know her.

The narrative straightens itself in the tiniest way. Cass thinks that's enough.

***

Maybe Raven is haunted by emotions like Cass is haunted by bodies. Maybe they are both haunted by narratives.

Maybe Raven is haunted by the power the way Cass is haunted by the delicacy.

Maybe it's offering and asking and along the way they both stopped asking.

***

Raven brings Phobia down with her and Duke is there to catch her; he checks Phobia’s pulse and her breathing and Cass let's him, her body is loose and her breathing is shallow but it's steady. It's not her priority and it doesn't have to be.

Raven feels and looks drained and Cass is there to fall with her, cushion her knees when they hit the floor, hold her back steady with her arm. She reaches up to brush Ravens hair off her face; she will tell her later to stop leaving it down when costumed because that's just not safe but maybe Raven's perception isn't affected by such earthly things and so maybe she will ask instead-

-and Raven looks at her as Cass' fingers brush her temple and her chest blooms instead of tightening under Raven's steady eyes, so Cass follows her gut and tilts Raven's head up to meet her lips with her own.

"Guys, not right now," Duke groans behind her.

"You knew?!" Cass isn't sure when Dick found them but she doesn't care, not with how Raven hides her face in the bat on her chest because now Cass knows that Raven does blush on her chest when she's embarrassed.

She hides her own face in Raven's hair and it smells like sandalwood. It smells like Cass' own shampoo.

***

Cass sneaks through the Manor halls with purpose until Bruce steps in her path while leaving his office. He stops so she follows, even though it takes him a moment to come up with words. It's okay, she knows the feeling.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," he offers; he looks awkward and embarrassed but his voice sounds steady.

Cass meets his gaze. "Kon," she says; it's enough to make Bruce cringe with understanding.

He doesn't need to offer apologies, he's been trying to do so for years and now her fridge is full of honeydew melons. They stand there for a moment; Cass can see Bruce is piecing together the shadows. "That girl from Blüdhaven-"

"Brenda," Cass cuts in; the sting is there but it doesn't linger. "I really liked her."

Bruce nods. "Ask if she'd like to stay for dinner. Alfred will make her anyway but it's polite."

Cass smiles and sneaks past him, squeezing his arm briefly.

***

Cass slips inside the guest bedroom Raven took during her stay, closes the door behind her.

Raven is sitting at the foot of the bed, her cape in one of her hands, a sewing needle in the other, mending a hole she must have accidentally ripped at some point last night. Cass is sure Alfred would take care of it if Raven left the cape here but maybe that's too close to asking for her. Or maybe Raven likes to keep parts of her to herself just that much. Cass will be sure to ask later.

She sits next to her, loops her arm around Raven's back to keep herself up while she drops a kiss onto Raven’s shoulder. "Stay for dinner?"

Raven smiles, sets the needle and the cape aside carefully.

***

They are late for dinner, Raven thinks cantaloupes are superior, and Bruce looks like he has a headache.

Dating is nice, Cass thinks.

#cassrae #cassandra cain #raven #this is so rusty my god #my writing

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stahlop · 4 years

Text

Making a Memory (9/?)

So sorry for the delay on this next chapter. I ran out of prewritten chapters, then I went on vacation, then my youngest turned 5, and just lots of things happening. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Thanks again to my wonderful betas @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite and thanks to @gingerchangeling for her amazing artwork.

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Ao3

God she’d missed him. She missed the feeling of his lips on hers. The slide of his tongue pressing against her lips for entrance. His hand threading through her hair. The feel of his body pressed against hers. She missed the feel of his hook pressed into her lower back.

“Killian!” Emma pulled away from him, and took a good hard look at her husband. God dammit, her husband! His eyes were still half closed and his lips were still puckered as he tried to chase hers back.”Killian,” she said softly. Her hand came up to his cheek, felt the scruff that she hadn’t felt in so long, noticed the red had been replaced with gray. He smiled into her hand, the laugh lines around his eyes running much deeper than when they’d left town. She automatically started threading her fingers through his hair and noted the gray intertwined throughout.

“Swan.” He breathed out. “Emma.” His eyes opened completely (she’d missed those beautiful blue eyes) and he was staring at her, as if finally seeing her for the first time. She felt completely exposed before him. It had been 12 years. 12 years! All her old insecurities about them came crashing back into her, until …”My beautiful Swan.” He touched his forehead to hers and Emma practically sobbed at the feelings that overwhelmed her. They were here. Together. In Storybrooke. With their family.

Their girls!

“Killian!” Emma pushed him away from her. He looked taken aback until she pointed over to their booth where their children were sitting. Their children. He grinned at her, taking her hand and brushing a kiss to her knuckles. Damn if that still wasn’t a huge turn on.

“Come on.” She said as she pulled on the hand he’d just kissed to lead him back to their booth.

They resettled themselves down in their seats. Emma proceeded to voraciously consume her grilled cheese and onion rings as if she hadn’t eaten in days. It wasn’t until she stopped halfway through to take a sip of her water that she noticed Henry, Hope, and Alice looking at her as if she were an alien sitting in front of them.

“What?” She asked, rubbing her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Mom?” Henry asked. He didn’t need to ask anymore than that. Emma knew the silent question he was asking.

“I don’t remember everything.” Emma said. “But I remember enough. I remember coming to Storybrooke. I remember magic. I remember Killian.” She smiled at him. “I vaguely remember the final battle. I definitely remember being pregnant with you two.” She pointed at the girls. Alice was grinning as wide as the Cheshire Cat from her namesakes story, while Hope just stared at her with a slightly confused look on her face. “I know we were cursed by a witch of some kind, but I’m hazy on the details of why.” She turned to look at Alice on the other side of the booth, her voice taking on a melancholy tone. “And I’m looking forward to getting to know you, my sweet Alice.” She reached out her hand to her daughter (her daughter!) and Alice placed her own hand in hers. “It kills me to know that I missed out on your life.” Emma smiled at her, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Killian?” Henry asked the same question.

“It’s all still a bit muddled.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. “The more you or Emma remind me of memories, even with just a word or a phrase, I get flashes of the past. But I’m still trying to connect it all together. But I know now, that everything Henry has said is true. Without a shadow of a doubt.”

The booth was quiet after that, almost as if no one knew what to say after the revelation that they’d recovered many of their memories. It felt strange to Emma, sitting there and eating when no one in the town knew who they were. Granny was right there in the kitchen without an inkling that she had once knitted her and the twins baby blankets. That she used to flirt shamelessly with Killian. That she used to scold them for making out in the hallways after their dates and ‘other’ activities. After the waitress had collected their plates, Granny came over to their table.

“Mr. Swan,” she said, addressing Henry, for he was the only one she recognized. Will you and your family be needing accommodations?” Henry nodded.

“Yes. For at least a week. Three rooms.” Granny nodded and went off to get them keys.

“A week? Henry, we can’t stay here for a week.” Emma said, trying to take control of the situation. She had a job to get back to, they had to get the girls back to camp. She’s sure Killian had a job to get back to as well.

‘You’re mother’s right, lad. We have a lot to figure out, but we can’t stay here at the moment. There are too many logistics we need to work out.” Killian said. He took Emma’s hand in his. She sighed at the feel of his calloused hands holding hers. “Not that I don’t want to reacquaint myself with you, Swan.” He said, his voice lowering, his one eyebrow raised in that ridiculous way that drove her crazy.

“Ew!” Hope said as she closed her eyes tight and stuck out her tongue. “Some of us don’t want to hear that stuff.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Alice said, a wide grin on her face.

‘Look,” Henry began, before Emma could say anything else. “We need to go over a few things, so we have to at least stay tonight. You two can buy some clothes for yourselves and the girls for tomorrow and for sleeping tonight. Call the camp, let them know you found the girls and they won’t be returning, you can collect their things in a day or two. But, I think after you find out what I’ve discovered, you won’t want to get back to your false life right away.” Granny came by at that moment with three keys which Henry collected. Emma sighed and looked over at Killian who also seemed to be thinking over what Henry had just said. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

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Killian still couldn’t believe they were back in Storybrooke and that he remembered his Swan. He couldn’t believe that when Emma came to his door that morning that his whole life would have been revealed to be a lie and that the love of his life was actually standing in front of him. But here they were. He wished he could remember everything, he knew there were pieces of his life from before that still weren’t coming to the surface, but for right now, he knew enough. He knew he was with his family.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he realized exactly what damage Gothel’s curse had done to them. He’d had Alice with him, yes, and he wouldn’t give those years up for the world, but she was supposed to have a mother, and a sister, and a brother. It shouldn’t have just been the two of them against the world. He should have regaled his girls with the tales of his and Emma’s romance. They should have known all their grandparents and a community that loved them from before they were even born. Instead they’d been separated and cursed to forget each other. And so had the town.

They had left the diner and were walking down the main drag to the few clothing stores that were there. It was only mid-afternoon, and plenty of people were milling around town. People that Killian recognized. People like Belle who had wandered out from the library with a sullen, dark haired, teenager trailing along behind her, which Killian realized after almost a minute had to be Gideon. Belle looked the same. Her brown hair still had no traces of gray in it, but it had been cut to her shoulders, her skirt was closer to her knees than mid-thigh, and she was wearing flats instead of the sky high heels she’d been known for. Gold met them halfway from his shop, still clad in the suits that he wore, and Killian almost did a double take. Even under the curse, he still hadn’t aged a day. Gold kissed both of Belle’s cheeks and they were engaging in conversation as Killian and his family walked by them toward the clothing shop on the other side of the street.

“They won’t recognize us.” Henry said, suddenly appearing at Killian’s side. “I’ve been here once a year since we were cursed. Visited the library, visited the pawn shop. Neither one of them has ever even given one shred of evidence that they knew who I was.” Killian thought that Henry was telling him this to be reassuring, even though he and Gold had buried the hatchet (figuratively) years ago, but he could hear the sadness in Henry’s voice that even after all these years, the fact that they didn’t recognize him still hurt.

“And how is it that you have managed to retain your memories, lad?” Killian asked, realizing that Henry was no longer a lad. Gods, he was, he calculated in his head, 28 now! Practically the same age Emma had been when they’d met. He’d missed so much of Henry’s life.

“I’m the Author.” Henry explained. Killian realized they’d all stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to hear his explanation. “I’m supposed to observe and write everything down. Apparently, that makes me immune to mind-altering curses. Remember how I maintained my memories during the Black Fairy’s curse?” Both Killian and Emma nodded.

“So you’ve known this entire time?” Emma asked. Henry nodded. She stepped over to him and hugged him tight. “My poor, Henry. That must have been so hard for you.” She squeezed him even tighter.

“Where are we headed, Henry?” Asked Killian as they stowed their shopping bags back in their cars after finding clothes in one of the shops and then headed back down the street. The path they were on seemed familiar. The girls still seemed in awe of their surroundings. He could see Alice’s glee every time they passed a shop, having explained to them that Henry’s sequel to his book was the story of Emma’s life in Storybrooke up to the most recent curse. That had certainly explained why she knew what the Snow Queen’s Scroll was. Something that Killian still couldn’t remember all the details of himself. Alice seemed to know more about his past right now than he did. Hope still seemed unsure of everything, even though the truth was smacking her in the face. It made his heart ache to see how much like past Emma his daughter had become. There were walls around her 13-year-old heart and he had no idea what had made her so guarded.

“The Sorcerer's Mansion.” Henry said matter-of-factly.

Fear welled up inside him as the Dark One talked about the one special ingredient he needed to separate himself from the dagger, and Killian realized exactly what the Dark One planned on doing. “As luck would have it, dearie, you’re my oldest friend.” The hand that had once plucked the heart of his dearest love and crushed it to a fine powder had now plunged into his chest. The icy coldness of it as it wrapped around his heart was a feeling he knew he would never be able to forget. He watched as the Dark One pulled out his heart and displayed it like a prize he had one. He begged for him to just do the deed. Kill him. Get it over with. “Oh, no. I promised you we’d have some fun first.”

Killian stopped in the middle of the walk as the memory overcame him. He could feel his whole body shaking and the tang of blood in his mouth as he bit his lip. It almost felt like a panic attack (they seemed to be having them in abundance today), except he knew he was basically reliving the memory. Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome as he now knew it to be called.

“Killian!”

“Papa!”

He could hear their voices but they sounded very far away, even though he knew they were right next to him. He could feel Emma and Henry take his arms and help walk him over to a bench to sit down until it passed. He couldn’t get the image of his heart in the Dark One’s hand out of his head. It just wouldn’t go away. Even though he knew his heart was safely in his chest and had been for the past 15 years, he could still feel that squeeze as if it were happening right then and there.

Eventually he felt Alice’s hand rubbing up and down his arm and whispering to him that they were here for him and everything was going to be alright. Emma held the other arm and attempted to do the same as Alice. His breathing finally evened out and returned to normal after what felt like a lifetime. He could see his family around him and not the Dark One holding his heart anymore.

“Papa?” Alice asked. She sounded so small. He hated when she sounded like that.

“I’m ...I’m okay, Starfish. Just,” he paused to take in another breath of fresh air, “just an old memory reeling it’s ugly head and taking me by surprise.” Alice and Emma continued to comfort him, but Killian noticed that Hope looked confused and Henry started to pale as understanding crossed his face.

“Oh, crap, Killian. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so focused on getting us to the future, that I didn’t really think about the past.” Killian nodded, understanding. Henry had always been impulsive that way. What else could he expect from someone who at the age of 10 had gotten on a bus to find his birth mother to break a curse. The kid (not really a kid, but he’d always be a kid to Killian) had a real hero complex going.

“What’s happening? Why did the mention of the mansion freak him out?” Hope asked, a puzzled expression still adorning her face.

Alice gave her an exasperated look before saying a hushed tone, “That’s where the Dark One took his heart! Come on, Hope. You read the book just this morning.” Killian couldn’t help but grin at that. Of course Alice would have committed every part of Henry’s sequel to memory, while Hope probably didn’t believe a word of what she read.

“He used to have nightmares about the…” Emma circled around her heart to indicate it instead of saying the actual words, “before it happened, because of…” she trailed off, probably because she didn’t want to mention Milah in front of the girls. But Alice seemed to have no qualms about it.

“Because the Dark One crushed Milah’s heart?” Killian almost burst out laughing.

“She really has your tact, doesn’t she?” Emma said to him as she bit her lip and also tried to suppress a laugh.

“She’s definitely her father’s daughter.” He said, his body feeling back in control. He nuzzled up against Emma’s cheek where she gave him a chaste kiss. He heard a loud sigh come from the direction of Hope.

“Are we going to have to see you two make out all the time now?” She asked, clearly annoyed. Hope rolled her eyes, but Killian could see the mirth behind them.

“Yes!” Emma laughed, clearly used to this kind of behavior. He’d missed that laugh.

“Alright.” Killian said, taking a deep breath and finally getting up from the bench. “I’m good now. Let’s head over to the Sorcerer’s Mansion and see what Henry has found.”

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Memories swirled around her the more they walked through Storybrooke. Bits and pieces coming together in her head. It was so different from when Killian had given her the memory potion in New York and everything had just come rushing back. But this time it had been 12 years, instead of one, and Emma could see that despite the town looking exactly the same, the people had aged, just like she had. It made her very nervous, walking through the town. She was afraid to run into her parents and see what they looked like now. But also afraid because she knew they wouldn’t recognize her in the least.

Killian’s reaction to the memory of his heart being taken by Gold had scared her. She knew she had more memories just trying to break through. She’d already had one panic attack this morning (was it really only that morning?) when Henry had brought her to Chantey’s Lobster House, she wasn’t sure if she could handle another one. But she also knew they needed to do this. They needed to remember. They needed to make the town remember. They needed to get back the life that was stolen from them.

The Sorcerer’s Mansion was exactly how she remembered it on the outside. And she remembered everything that had happened there. From almost getting rid of her magic, to almost getting eaten by a giant spider. She was glad that it didn’t spark the same fear that had overcome Killian before.

“No one lives here still?” Emma inquired. She’d always wondered why no one had claimed this place, especially since both Merlin and the Apprentice were dead.

“I think …I think I technically own it.” Henry said a little sheepishly. The twins both looked at him confused, but both Emma and Killian seemed to understand. “As the Author, I think it belongs to me.” He explained. “Luckily, no one from the town has seen me go in here. I’m not sure if they realize it exists.” He said, now drawing a baffled look from Killian, and Emma assumed her face looked similar, because how could the people of the town not see a huge mansion, even if it was away from the main drag.

“Let’s go in and I’ll explain it better.” Henry said as he opened the door.

They all walked in and Emma drew a breath as she surveyed the inside of the mansion. Henry had definitely been busy as she saw many whiteboards set up all around the room with notes and pictures on them. It looked like a police investigation room.

“Please, sit.” Henry said, motioning for them to sit down at a large dining room table in the center of the room where there were several fairy tale books piled. Killian immediately deferred the head of the table to Emma and he sat to her left so he could continue to hold her hand. Hope sat on Emma’s right and Alice went to the other side of Killian. Henry took the other head of table.

“I feel like I’m about to give a TED talk.” Henry joked nervously. It broke the tension that had mounted in the room, and everyone gave a good chuckle. Even Hope who still seemed a bit in disbelief at the whole situation. Emma couldn’t blame her. It took her falling through a magic portal to come to terms with everything, and that had been after killing a dragon and waking Henry with True Love’s Kiss. She was glad to see that Alice had inherited her brother’s belief at least.

“So, mom, Killian, if you recall, we found out that the powerful Gothel we had been threatened by was from the future, and the present day Gothel had not acquired her power yet. We also had a prophecy to contend with, one that Gothel was determined not to let pass.” She and Killian nodded in agreement.

“Well, it was obvious to me that someone needed to be monitoring the present day Gothel in the Enchanted Forest. The Blue Fairy had been doing that before we left, but obviously, with the mind wipe, she wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.” Emma started to tense. Killian’s hand also tensed in hers. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. Don’t let Henry say it. She pleaded in her mind. Please don’t let Henry...

“So I went to the Enchanted Forest to keep an eye on her.” He said proudly.

He said it.

“How, pray tell, did you manage to do that?” Killian asked the question she was also thinking.

“With a magic bean.” Henry said as though it were an obvious conclusion. “Several magic beans, actually. You may not recall, but we brought about 20 of them with us when we left town. Plus, the bean fields are still here and growing. They are still tending to and harvesting the beans.”

But how is that possible?” Alice asked intrigued. Emma could see she was intrigued by the whole concept of magic beans. She only hoped if Alice ever did get to go through a portal, she did it willingly and not accidentally fall into one or have to take one to rescue someone like she’d had to. Although, both of those trips did leave her panting over the hot pirate sitting next to her.

“Well,” Henry began, sounding very professorial, “while the people here may not know there is magic here, magic is still here. And it’s doing it’s damndest to make sure the citizens don’t know that until the curse is broken and their memories return.” Henry's voice had gotten faster and higher with this explanation.

“So when they harvest the magic beans…” Alice began, but Henry jumped right in.

“They think it’s something else entirely. I asked Granny on one of my trips and she said they’re just soybean fields.”

“And when you said you didn’t think anyone knew the mansion was here...?” Emma asked, trailing off when she realized she already knew the answer.

“It’s because this place is already pure magic. It probably just looks like a large field or something to them. Very Harry Potter.” Henry said amused at his little joke. That brought a smile to Emma’s face, and Hope’s as well. She and Henry had made sure Harry Potter was in Hope’s life. Of course, Emma could have never imagined that Harry Potter would be a little on the nose to their real life.

“Ok, let’s go back to the beans and the Enchanted Forest.” Emma was not enjoying the nonchalant attitude Henry seemed to be taking this whole endeavor in. “I’m not too thrilled about you willingly going to the Enchanted Forest when such a potential threat is looming there. You may be the Author, but that doesn’t make you invincible. You don’t have the sword fighting skills or magic.” Emma worried. And that’s when she realized that she hadn’t felt her magic since getting to town or since her memories had returned. She immediately tried to conjure up a ball of magic, but nothing came out. She kept turning her hand and expecting the magic ball to be there when she turned it back, but there was nothing. She closed her eyes and tried to call on her emotions the way she had when she had first started learning how to control her magic, but still nothing. Killian’s hand eventually came to rest over hers looking upset. They both looked up at Henry for an explanation.

“I think the curse needs to break before your magic will return.” Henry said sadly. “The twins never showed any magical inclinations before we left, so I don’t think Gothel factored them in when creating the curse.” Emma nodded. It made sense. It still worried her, but she’d also lived more of her life without magic than with it.

“But that segues perfectly into what I found out on my trips to the Enchanted Forest.’ Henry smiled, trying to bring the mood back up. They all settled back into their chairs as Henry began his story.

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“The first time I used a magic bean I almost forgot to pack another one to get myself home.I almost walked into the portal and then at the last second realized I had no way back. I managed to grab one and get back into the portal before it disappeared. I waited a little bit before going.” Henry explained. “I needed some time after that first trip to Storybrooke and saw how everything was just... normal. That Gothel had just left after the destruction she had wreaked now that we were all gone.” Henry swallowed back the small sob that threatened to leave his throat and quickly continued on.

“I quickly stole some clothes off a clothesline so that I would blend in and quickly hoofed it to the closest town and started making inquiries about Gothel. But she was still relatively unknown. It was frustrating. The people who had heard of her thought she was relatively harmless, mainly refilling lakes and rivers that had started to dry up, clearing up dead parts of the forest, and even bringing rain to help with growth. Most of the people seemed to feel she was being helpful. She’d even helped some families with her herbs when they’d fallen ill.” Killian cocked an eyebrow in confusion about this, Emma furrowed her brow contemplating what it all meant.

“I wondered for a time if there was another Gothel, a helpful Gothel, that maybe our Gothel had taken her name from. For several years, I went back to the Enchanted Forest asking about her, and every time it seemed she was not a threat.” Henry took a breath before he proceeded.

“But all that changed the year the twins turned seven. There were many rumors that circulated around the Enchanted Forest about Gothel’s sudden change. Some said she was spurned by a man, some said people were taking advantage of her goodwill. The most believed rumor was that someone had stolen some of her plants from her garden.” Henry almost rolled his eyes at this. He remembered thinking how odd it was that Gothel was going down the same path that her counterpart in the fairy tale books did. “Whatever it was, it seemed to have inspired a great hatred toward humans and Gothel was no longer the helpful witch that she had been for the past five years. She was now determined to rid the world of what she was calling ‘a pestilence on the land of her foremothers’. But I saw that she still wasn’t powerful enough to do that. This Gothel didn’t even know about the prophecy yet. She could do little more than make rivers flood and bring heavy rains, making people leave those areas due to their hovels being washed away.” Both Alice and Hope shifted nervously in their seats when Henry had brought up the prophecy, though Alice seemed a little more intrigued about Henry’s story.

“I continued to research the prophecy. It was because of this prophecy that the whole mess we were in had started. We obviously knew what the beginning of the prophecy meant. Alice and Hope had been born on either side of midnight during the Harvest Moon Lunar Eclipse. And Gothel was the ‘sinister conjuror’. And she had separated us to make herself stronger, but it was the last line that I needed help with. And reconciled on the day and night the true harvest moon meets.”

Henry knew what a Harvest Moon (or Blood Moon) was. It was the moon closest to the fall equinox. Killian had taught him that when the twins were born. But what did that mean for the girls? How did a Harvest Moon help them defeat Gothel?

“It took me almost three years to figure that out.” Henry said sheepishly, as though it should have taken him less time to figure it out. He’d researched a lot about the Harvest Moon and couldn’t figure out the connection, finally going to a planetarium show and getting some insight when they had a special about the different types of full moons. Henry’s audience stared at him waiting for the answer.

“A Harvest Moon falls closest to the fall equinox.” Henry explained, even though they all knew that because of the circumstances of their birth. “But it rarely falls on the actual fall equinox. When you were born it fell on September 27th, but the actual fall equinox was on September 23rd.”

“So, you think the date that Gothel will come back will happen on the night of the Harvest Moon this year then?” Killian surmised.

“Yes!” Henry said excitedly. “This year, the fall equinox falls on September 22nd and that’s also when the Harvest Moon will happen. The last time it happened was in 2010, and before that 1991. It’s a very rare occurrence. Just like the night the girls were born.” Emma and Killian both looked at the girls. Henry could see the terror in their eyes, knowing that because of the prophecy, the girls would have to fight this powerful witch. Alice and Hope just nodded at Henry, as if they were agreeing with whatever a teacher had said, even though they didn’t fully comprehend it.

“But, I’ve also discovered something else.” Henry said, eager to get to the crux of his revelation.

“It seemed that every time I made another trip to the Enchanted Forest, Gothel was getting stronger and stronger. The villagers were leaving in droves, fleeing to King Eric and Queen Ariel’s or King Phillip and Queen Aurora’s kingdoms.” Alice’s grin at the mention of those particular fairy tale characters almost took over her entire face. “I knew it was pointless to tell them that once Gothel had finished with the Enchanted Forest she would most likely come for those kingdoms next. The royalty that had taken over when Grandma and Grandpa had decided to stay in Storybrooke,” (a lovely couple in which the prince had apparently been cursed to be a frog at one point), “didn’t have the resources to take down such a powerful witch. Their army was no match for her, and as neither the Queen nor the King had any magic with which to match Gothel, they were losing the battle to maintain control of their kingdom quite quickly. It was their baby that Gothel stole to use in her time travel spell to visit mom the first time.” Both Hope and Alice looked horrified at this, even though it had been explained in his book during the whole Wicked Witch debacle. “According to the few villagers that had stayed around, Gothel had promised to stop attacking in exchange for borrowing the baby. This spell didn’t kill the baby but only drained a few years off it’s life for the time traveling ability. That was two years ago.” Henry desperately wished he’d brought some water with him, as he was getting parched from all the talking he was doing. He licked his lips instead.

“Right before the girls left for camp, I had a hunch and went to the Enchanted Forest earlier than I normally would have, to observe what was happening.” Henry stated.

“How did you know Alice would be going to the same camp?” Killian asked suddenly.

“Um, that scholarship application she filled out? That was actually from me. I paid for her to go there. I also mailed you brochures to put the idea into Alice’s head.” Henry felt slightly guilty for that ruse, even though he knew he had to get the girls together somehow once he’d figured out the date of the Harvest Moon.

“Wait.” Hope interrupted before Henry could continue. “Every time you said you were going to write somewhere that didn’t have cell phone service so you could concentrate, that was you going to the Enchanted Forest?” Hope piped in.

“Yep.” Henry nodded.

“Man, I always thought mom was going to have heart attacks when you were off the grid and she couldn’t get a hold of you.” Hope reminisced, smiling for the first time since Henry had taken her from camp.

“Well, I wasn’t technically lying. There is no cell phone service in the Enchanted Forest as they haven’t invented electricity yet.” Henry chuckled.

“So, what did you find out?” Alice asked, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“A few days before camp started, Gothel was still reigning terror over other areas of the Enchanted Forest. She had kept her promise to the new royal couple about leaving her remaining villagers alone. But on the day I’m assuming you met, she had what I can only describe as a power surge. She was flying through the village with her magic going in and out. I even saw her fall out of the sky a few times. It’s like she was still powerful Gothel one minute and then her magic would fail the next. It was immediately after this that she borrowed a baby again. Not the same one as he was too old and didn’t have the same innocence needed, the king and queen had had another one and she used him.” Both Hope and Alice grimaced at this. “She went back to the point when she threatened us and made us leave Storybrooke. Now, when we saw her there, she was pretty powerful, because at that point in time, the twins were young and hadn’t come into their magic yet. Had she stayed in Storybrooke and not forced us to leave, she may have defeated us. But over the next few days I noticed her magic getting weaker and weaker. I mean, she’s still pretty powerful, but she’s still having those surges. I came back and a few days later I got the phone call from you, Hope, about meeting Alice.” He paused before really getting to the good stuff. “After rereading the prophecy, I’m almost positive that you two meeting again is what is causing her magic to weaken. The prophecy states by separating will make stronger. We all assumed that meant that Gothel separating us meant she would get stronger, but”

“But it made our magic stronger instead.” Hope interrupted. “Her separating us fulfilled the prophecy, just not the way she intended it to.

Henry smiled at his sister, his heart swelled with pride. He was definitely a proud big brother at the moment. “Exactly! The fact that your magic activated outside of Storybrooke practically proves that.”

“So now what?” Emma asked, her face looking almost ashen. “We now have a date for when she’s supposed to return, and the girls have magic. What are we supposed to do with this information?” Her voice sounded desperate, as though she didn’t really want the answer that Henry had to give.

“Now,” Henry said, licking his lips in anticipation, “we prepare for a fight.”

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssns @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake

#cssns #cssns20 #captain swan supernatural summer #csff #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #gingerchangeling #inspired by the parent trap

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

Text

Deep in the Heart of Texas - Two

a/n: I really need to stop writing instead of doing online school. Whatever. This is kind of a filler chapter; things should be getting more interesting soon. I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is ready for the best summer of her life. She’s home from college for the summer, and so are all of her friends. Even her cousin is on a break from the military. Everything is set up to be perfect. Until... her mother decides to let the son of an old family friend stay with them while he grieves the loss of a loved one. And Aelin is not going to let a party pooper ruin her summer.

Rowan Whitethorn has just suffered the biggest loss of his life: the death of his long-time girlfriend, Lyria. His family is sick of him moping around his tiny New York apartment, so they ship him down south for the summer. The last thing Rowan wants is to spend his vacation in Nowhereville, Texas, but he has little choice. Not to mention, the only people his age seem to hate him. How on earth is he going to survive 3 months of this?

“Aelin, we’re home!” Evalin trills as she steps inside. Rhoe is behind her, along with Eleanor and Gavriel.

“Uncle Gav! Aunt Ellie!” And Aelin feels like a little kid again, running to her aunt and uncle. Gavriel pulls her into a tight hug while Eleanor kisses her head.

“It’s so good to see you. How’s A&M?” Eleanor asks. Aelin walks her family to the living room, telling them everything. All about the professor she hates (“Maeve is still teaching?” Gavriel snorts), and the friends she’s made, and that crazy end-of-year party she went to.

“Aedion’s out right now.” Aelin tells her aunt before she can ask. Eleanor chuckles, sinking further into the couch.

“Aelin!” Turning to her mother, Aelin gives her a questioning look.

“What?”

“It’s five! We need to go pick up Rowan from the airport.” Evalin stands up, ready to grab her purse and run out again, but Aelin stops her.

“He’s already here, Mom. His flight got moved up and he got here around two o’clock.” Evalin’s eyes widen.

“Why didn’t you text me? And where is he?”

“Sorry, I forgot.” Aelin sighs lamely. “And he’s asleep in his bedroom. He must have been really tired, I haven’t heard a peep from him all afternoon.”

Aelin’s mother sits down again, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Nobody says anything for a long while, until Eleanor stands up suddenly.

“We should get started on dinner, don’t you think? Especially if we have a guest. We don’t want him going hungry, now do we?”

Evalin still doesn’t speak, but she gets up anyway and follows her sister into the kitchen. Leaving Aelin alone with her father and uncle.

“How long are you two in town for, uncle Gav?” She asks.

“I was able to get two weeks off.” Gavriel says with a smile. Eleanor is a teacher, so she’s already off for the whole summer. “We wanted to see y’all before you both went back to school.”

“You remember the Whitethorns, right?” Rhoe interjects. “They’ve been down here a few time when y’all were.”

“How can I forget?” Gavriel chuckles. “I had to scold Aedion for days after he punched one of their kids.”

The two men laugh at old memories, bringing Aelin back, as well. She’d been five years old the first time she met the Whitethorns.

Enda was six and Sellene was seven, and the three of them got on like wildfire. Aelin showed them all over the house, even the cool secret areas in places she wasn’t supposed to go. Rowan and Aedion had trailed behind, seeming to get along just fine.

But then, as Aelin showed them the cool secret alcove in the library, Rowan had threatened to tell on them for being where they weren’t supposed to. He’d barely turned around to get out of the room before Aedion tackled him.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, and all Aelin remembered after that was turning to Aedion as the Whitethorns’ car pulled out of the driveway and saying, “I’m so glad they’re gone.”

“Aelin! Come help me chop veggies!” Evalin’s voice from the kitchen pulls her from her memories, and she hurries away from the living room, leaving the two men to chat in peace.

“I’m making chicken spaghetti casserole.” Eleanor says from the stove. The water is at a rolling boil, and her aunt quickly drops in the pieces of chicken to cook while Aelin and Evalin cut up the onions and peppers.

It doesn’t take long before it seems like Aelin has been forgiven; or at least, Evalin doesn’t seem too mad anymore. Aelin tells her that Rowan arrived just fine, settled in fine. Like she’s checked on him since then.

She also makes sure to keep some other things to herself. Like how she knows her mother set up a large suite for him, but she gave him the smallest room on purpose. Or that even though she’s determined to hate his guts, Rowan Whitethorn is unfairly hot.

Hot as hell, and also off-limits as hell. After all, he’s here to recover from his girlfriend dying in a car accident. Hitting on him is… probably the opposite of what he needs.

Even if he’s far too attractive for his own good.

Eleanor pulls the chicken from the boiling water and adds the pasta, breaking the noodles in half before she drops them in. Aelin is busy grating cheese now, while her mother sautees the veggies.

Someone comes inside, opening up the creaky screen door and stepping into the entryway. Aelin peeks out of the kitchen to see her uncles, Orlon and Weylan.

“Something smells good.” Orlon laughs, already heading for the kitchen. Aelin meets him halfway, grinning, throwing herself into her great-uncle’s arms.

“You’re home!”

Orlon laughs at that, planting a kiss on Aelin’s golden head. Weylan comes up beside them, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “We’ve barely been gone a week.”

“Well, you missed my coming home party. Everyone was there.” Aelin pouts playfully.

Orlon just keeps smiling, shuffling into the kitchen to snatch a piece of boiled chicken, much to Eleanor’s dismay. She’s busy straining the pasta, getting ready to assemble the casserole and put it in the oven. She slaps Weylan’s hand away before he can take a piece, too.

“Uncle, did Mom tell you that she’s letting a strange man stay in our house?” Aelin asks, grinning fiendishly.

“Aelin,” Evalin sighs, “He’s not a strange man, he’s a family friend.”

“She did tell me.” Orlon chuckles. “Poor sucker.” He uses Eleanor’s distraction to take another piece of chicken, making Aelin’s aunt nearly squawk.

They all fall into conversation easily, the whole family crowding the large kitchen. When Aedion gets back from town, he’s just as excited to see his uncles.

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she missed this; the easy-going personality of Orlon mixed with Weylan’s snark, the laughter of her aunt and uncle, the feeling of togetherness. This, right here, is her family. Her people.

Rhoe pulls a few beers from the fridge, tossing one to Aedion and Gavriel. At Aelin’s protests, he gives her one too.

“I’m twenty-one, Dad. I can drink now.”

“Legally, at least.” Aedion grins. Aelin elbows him sharply, and her cousin doubles over, coughing.

All of the commotion draws Fleetfoot into the kitchen, and nobody can resist her cute begging face. Before Eleanor can get the casserole fixed up properly, the dog has already eaten what seems half the chicken, snuck to her by nearly every person in the room.

Aelin finishes her beer with a contented sigh and tosses the can, heading to set the table at her mother’s insistance. Despite the fact that she’s twenty-one and Aedion is twenty-six, they’re still the youngest members in the house, meaning all the mundane chores get thrown on them.

When the plates and cups and silverware are set, Evalin hands her daughter the cloth napkins. Aelin looks up at her, confused.

“Why are we being all fancy? It’s just us.” She asks.

“Have you already forgotten the guest sleeping upstairs?” Evalin sighs, clearly exasperated. “I want to give him a good impression.”

Aelin rolls her eyes, but sets out the fancy napkins anyway. By her standards, Rowan Whitethorn deserves absolutely none of this fuss. Really, she should have just gone out and gotten them all Whataburger for dinner.

But since she doesn’t have a death wish, Aelin doesn’t talk back to her mother. The napkins get set, the casserole comes out of the oven, piping hot and ready to eat.

“Aedion, go wash up.” Eleanor tells her son. “Aelin, how about you go and get our guest? I’m sure he’s starving by now.”

Aelin trudges up the large staircase, muttering obscenities under her breath.

“What was that?” Her aunt calls back.

“Nothing!” She answers. Screw the stupid mother sense that allows her to hear back-talk from nearly a room away.

Upstairs, Aelin hurries to Rowan’s room, on the furthest side of the house from her own bedroom. She wasn’t exactly lying about all the rooms being taken, but maybe she wasn’t completely truthful, either.

All of her friends stayed for a few days after the party, not ready to head home just yet. They’d spent the days in one room or the other, often accompanied by multiple bottles of wine, and just talked. She felt as though she hadn’t seen her friends in ages, with school just being so busy.

Now, seeing as everyone is finally gone, only a few rooms on the upper floor are taken, truly. Hers, Aedion’s, one for her great-uncles, and one for her aunt and uncle. Her parents’ bedroom is downstairs, leaving several rooms vacant that Rowan could have taken.

However, Aelin didn’t want him anywhere near her, which meant the furthest, smallest bedroom possible. She walks to it quickly, knocking impatiently on the door.

“I’m coming.” A muffled voice on the other side of the door says. Aelin tuts loudly and taps her foot, crossing her arms.

“It’s time for dinner.” Aelin calls.

The door opens, and Aelin hates how she has to look up at the bastard. His silvery hair is mussed, likely from sleeping on it. However, the bags under his eyes suggest otherwise.

“Are you coming?” She snaps. Rowan doesn’t say anything, just steps outside, running a hand through his hair in a failed attempt to tame it. Aelin turns away, feeling warm. He has absolutely no right to be so attractive, and it feels strangely intimate, walking in on him just waking up.

“It’s chicken spaghetti casserole. And the rest of my family is home, so try not to say anything too stupid. In fact, maybe just speak as little as possible.” Aelin leads him downstairs, heading for the dining room.

The less she looks at him, the better.

~~~~

As exhausted as he was, Rowan hadn’t slept a wink. A fact that pains him more and more with each step downstairs. His head feels fuzzy. And hot. Why is it still so fucking hot? How do these people handle it?

“Rowan!” He looks up to see Evalin Galathynius, arms wide open, pulling him into a sudden hug. Rowan tenses up, eyes widening. Over her shoulder, Rowan has a clear view of Aelin snickering at his misfortune.

“Please, come sit.” Another woman, one who looks almost exactly like Evalin, gestures to the large wooden table. Rowan takes a seat awkwardly, trying to force a smile to his face. He fails miserably.

“This is my sister, Eleanor.” Evalin smiles. “And her husband, Gavriel.” She introduces the rest of the people, and all Rowan wants is to go back upstairs and sleep.

The Galathynius family is a sight, that’s for sure. He always thought that Aelin and Aedion looked similar, but looking at Evalin and her sister… they’re practically twins.

At least the food is good. Probably incredibly unhealthy, being mostly pasta and cheese and breadcrumbs, but good. And the other people make up all the conversation, so at least he doesn’t have to speak too much.

If only he didn’t have to speak at all. The dog- what was its name- nudges his legs, and he can hear it panting beneath the table, begging for scraps. He tries his best to push it away discreetly.

“So, Rowan.” Gavriel tries to make friendly conversation, pulling Rowan away from staring at his nearly empty plate. “What’s New York like at this time of the year?”

“Fine.” Rowan doesn’t offer any more information, hoping to keep himself closed off. “And it doesn’t feel like the fires of hell.” He mutters under his breath.

Rhoe Galathynius bursts out laughing. “Ain’t that the truth! Hell, it’s barely June! Only gonna get hotter from here, son.”

Yay.

“I’ll take your plate, Rowan.” Looking up, he sees Aelin giving him a simpering smile, somehow paired with a death glare. He still hasn’t figured out why she hates him so much.

He passes her the dirty plate and silverware, and Aelin moves to offer the same to her uncles. She takes them through to the kitchen, the dog crawling out from under the table to follow her.

“Thank you for making dinner, Mrs. Galathynius.” Rowan says to the woman sitting across from him. She beams.

“Of course, sweetheart. And you can call me Evalin.”

“Anybody want ice cream?” Aelin yells into the dining room. “We got some Blue Bell left!”

Everyone calls back for ice cream, though Rowan is silent. Sure, something cold sounds nice, but he’s already full from dinner. Not that he’s had much appetite lately.

When Aelin returns, the dog yet again on her heels, she’s balancing several bowls of ice cream in both hands, and she places them expertly before her family, a real, genuine smile on her face.

“I hope y’all like it. There’s none left now.” She laughs. Getting a scoop of vanilla on her spoon, she lets the dog lick it off with a smile.

“You don’t want any, Rowan?” Evalin asks sweetly.

“No thanks.” He responds. “I’m already full. And… I’ve had a long day, I think I’m going to bed, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Get some sleep.” She smiles.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Blue Bell ice cream, man.” Aedion laughs from his seat. “This is the good shit. Sure you don’t wantney?”

Struggling to understand the thick accent, Rowan shakes his head quickly, offering another apology. He practically sprints upstairs, Aelin’s hysterical laugh ringing in his ears.

Despite it being nearly seven o’clock, the sun is still bright and hot, gleaming through the windows onto his bed.

Rowan flops down onto the comforter, wincing as he lands onto the patch of burning sunlight. Rolling over, he reaches for his phone of the nightstand.

Several missed texts and calls from friends and family meet him. Enda and Sellene’s are most prominent, wanting to make sure he’s arrived safely. There’s one or two alerts from his parents, just confirming his thoughts that they’ve shipped him down here to get him out of their hair, not because they’re worried for him, and then several from his friends, Fenrys and Lorcan.

In fact, right as he unlocks his phone, he gets another call from Fenrys. With a sigh, he answers it.

“Oh shit! He’s alive!” Fenrys chuckles, and Rowan can practically hear the troublemaking grin.

“Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“I’m checking in, man.” Fenrys says. “How’s the lone star state?”

“I’m literally sleeping on the set of Gone with the Wind, so…”

His friend laughs at that. “Well, at least you get to to sit around and drink beer and see hot women all day.”

Something in Rowan’s heart tugs violently, and he brushes it off with a laugh that sounds forced, even to his own ears.

“No, it’s too fucking hot to go outside. It was seriously almost 100 degrees this afternoon, and it’s only going to get hotter as summer goes on. I’m not going to survive the heat.”

“Well, man, you’re in luck.” Fenrys says. “Because if you’re stuck inside all day, at least you’ll have friends.”

“The only people my age in this awful town hate me.” Rowan snaps. “What are you planning, Fen?”

“How about Lorcan tells you.” His friend nearly cackles. Rowan hears the sound of the phone being passed over.

“Hey, Ro.” Lorcan sighs. “I can’t believe I let Fen talk me into this. Even Connall managed to resist him.”

“What’s going on.” Rowan asks, suspicious.

“I am currently holding two plane tickets to Houston, Texas!” Fenrys cheers. “We’re coming down to cheer you up!”

“What the hell.” Rowan groans. “Did either of you think this through at all? Where are you even staying?”

“We’ll figure that out tomorrow.” Fenrys calls, Lorcan having put the phone on speaker.

Of course. Fenrys’s family is filthy rich, so he clearly has the idea to just find a hotel nearby and crash, not caring about expenses. Although Rowan is touched his friends care enough to come all the way down to see him, he can already tell this is going to go badly. Very badly.

“All the nearby hotels are shitty.” Rowan tells him. “So just warning you. Everything in this stupid state is dusty and hot and ugly.”

Lorcan says something, but is interrupted by a loud knock on Rowan’s door.

“Hang on; I’ll call you back.” Fenrys protests, but Rowan doesn’t listen, just hanging up the call.

He walks over to the door, trying to reign in his groan. Why can’t he just be left alone?

It’s Aelin at the door, of course. It seems she’s taken it upon herself to personally torment him.

“I’m just letting you know, we have church in the morning. We leave at nine o’clock. If you need some nicer clothes, just take some of Aedion’s. You know, since this whole state is dusty and hot and ugly.”

Rowan groans at her words. Of course she heard him. Before he can say anything more, Aelin shuts the door, hard.

He’s been here for less than twenty-four hours, and yet he’s already messed something up.

Typical.

~~~~

a/n: so, in Rowan’s POV, I made sure to add a bunch of words and vocab not included in Aelin’s. Why? Because a Southern accent is something else, man. Of course Rowan’s going to notice it more, not being from the south, while Aelin has been listening and speaking like that her whole life. Also, the ‘wantney’ wasn’t a typo. Saying ‘want any’ out loud with my own southern voice smushed the words together, so I decided to do that here.

Comment to be added/removed from the tag list!

@http-itsrebecca

@rowaelinforeverworld

#throne of glass #tog #tog au #rowaelin #sarah j maas #sjm #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #aedion ashryver #southern au #tog southern au

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

“Strogonof”

Summary: Arthur reminisces about his and Y/N’s first dinner together. Y/N’s happy to relive it with him.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,433

A/N: This request comes from the amazing @sweet-nothings04. Thanks to @ithinkimawriter for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Arthur thought it was a great idea, albeit a last minute one. Not having known it was a thing when Y/N had given him his desk, he'd done nothing for their six month anniversary. He wanted to make damn sure to note one month of marriage. The dish she'd cooked the night he'd first come over had been delicious. And he would always associate it with falling in love with her. He found the name of it in his old journal, in the entry he'd written after their date, when he'd been high on the ease of their conversation, their too-short dance, and the kiss they'd shared: "strogonof."

Celebrating by having it again would be lovely. "I liked it a lot," he said when he called her office, notebook in hand. "Maybe we could make it for dinner?"

Her voice had a smile in it, though she turned him down. "Arthur, it takes nine hours to cook."

Nine hours? Unable to hide his consternation, he frowned. "Oh." Tension entered his shoulders, and he rubbed the back of his neck to quiet it. He'd have to come up with something else. Going to Kao-Wah's would work, though it wouldn't be as intimate. He could try to get the same booth as before. He started to flip through his notes, seeking to find the names of what they'd eaten between his earliest stand-up performance and the cementing of their relationship.

"Tell you what," she said, unknowingly interrupting his planning. The tap of her pencil on her desk was crystal clear through the phone. "We can get the ingredients tonight and make it tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

The suggestion warmed him, though it would be a day late. "That sounds great."

During their walk to the nearby grocer's, he explained why he wanted that specific dish. And he told her he'd finished paying for the ring he'd picked out for himself (which he wouldn't let her help with, though they had combined their bank accounts): a gold band to match hers. Then he showed it to her. She snagged it, held his left hand steady as she slipped it on his finger, then kissed him firmly. Right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone. Y/N laying claim to him so enthusiastically, in public, made him feel like he was floating. Lips cracking a toothy smile, he led her through the store's entrance.

Arthur carried the shopping basket as they strolled each aisle. She was swiftly going to and fro, grabbing groceries as they went. And she made sure to pick the same wine as they'd had that night. It was cute, really. That wasn't a word he often used to describe her. But her grin was growing with every item she picked out. She was almost girlish. But he knew if he said that, she'd remind him she was the older one, and he wouldn't hear the end of it. Smirking at her was the best option.

As he picked up sour cream, she told him their supply of TV dinners was almost out. They weren't eaten often, but Y/N brought them to work once in awhile. Though their roles were reversed, a feeling of deja vu swept over him as she walked down the frozen food section. He watched as she stood in front of the freezer, apparently trying to decide which one she wanted. He tried to recall what she'd said to him when they'd first met. After approaching quietly, he stood behind her. "There are too many to pick from."

When she looked over her shoulder, he knew she'd understood. He continued. "Want me to get one for you?"

Beaming, she opened the door for him and leaned back against it. "Yes, actually. The Polynesian Style Dinner. With the orange tea cake." He reached in and got it for her, then presented it with a small bow. She took it, giggled, and whacked him lightly on the bicep with it. Then she caught him off guard by grasping his collar and pulling him to her. "You know, mister," she purred, "you're very handsome. Want to sneak in the back? I'm sure we can hide behind some boxes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a nearby man look at them with disapproval. Arthur snorted, blushing. "I'll just take your number. You might be a nut." She gasped, putting the back of her fingers to her mouth, then ducked away from him in mock outrage and hurried towards the cash register, glancing back as she went. God, he loved it when she was playful - generally she was just sarcastic. He grabbed the same dinner for himself and took off after her.

~~~~~

Y/N went over the recipe, guiding him through each step. It was easy enough. He cut the beef into bite-sized pieces while she drained the mushrooms. The condensed soups were thrown in, along with a chopped onion. As they worked in tandem, she told him the cream cheese needed to be taken out later to soften. He had a therapy appointment that morning and a gig, a kid's party, in the afternoon, but he'd be home in between. He wrote a note and left it on the counter so he'd remember. Then she handed him a spoon. "So," she started. "We've been Mr. & Mrs. Fleck for a month. How does it feel?"

He released a soft "hm" as he stirred all the ingredients together. Their engagement had been about a half hour - he hadn't gotten used to being a fiance before becoming a husband. Marriage elicited numerous reactions at once. He'd hoped for it one day. He'd thought it would be gratifying to have a partner, a person who loved him enough to take his last name, along with his issues. Someone who wanted to fold her life into his. With every seldom, missed chance, though, whether due to his apprehension or lack of women to interact with, he'd grown to assume that type of union was out of reach for him.

When they'd initially gotten together, he'd thought of Y/N in the context of what she could do for him. How her presence would improve his existence. That she validated him. His musings still often skewed that way. But he'd found he didn't only enjoy his wife being there whenever he needed or wanted her. It fulfilled him to support her. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by that. He'd spent most of his years looking after Penny. It made sense he'd want to care for Y/N, too. Especially since marrying her was a choice he'd made, not a circumstance he'd wound up in as a kid.

During the prior months, mornings had become one of Arthur’s favorite parts of the day. Normally, he'd wake up an hour before her. He’d kiss her forehead, put on coffee, and go on the fire escape to smoke. It was a peaceful routine. But over the past four weeks, there had been a slight change. There were days like this one, when awe would overcome him as he stirred and looked her way, like it had when he'd first moved in. Awe at having her instead of permanent solitude. He would press into her sleeping form, simply to hold her, to feel her solid weight and heat against him. To remind himself he'd never go unseen again.

And he found a modicum of happiness in the small, domestic niceties he hadn't considered in his fantasies. Like when they would plop on the couch after a long day, and she would read a newspaper while he watched a variety show, keeping each other company even as their interests diverged. Or if she would forget to grab the bar of soap before hopping in the shower, and call for him to retrieve it for her. And there was the time he'd tried to impress her by fixing a leak under the kitchen sink himself. It had worked, temporarily. She'd lauded him, anyway, not caring the repair had only lasted a couple days and the-

Y/N poked his ribs. "I hope the silence doesn't mean you hate it," she teased.

He had a tendency to grow quiet and think too long when she asked him questions. But she didn't seem to mind - she'd said it was sweet. His lips turned up as he gave her a sidelong glance. "No." The spoon went in the sink after he rinsed it off. "It's nice. Especially with you."

She was setting the timer on the slow cooker. "Good." Her smile was wide as she stepped to him, her arms encircling his skinny waist. "I wish I could stay all day, but I've got to get to work. Call me if you need anything."

She always told him that before she left. And the fact that she meant it made him feel whole, at least for a few seconds. He said he would, kissed her, and helped her with her coat and bags as she headed out the door.

~~~~~

The meal was as appetizing as he'd remember. And because he wasn't nervous this time, he was able to fully enjoy the richness of it. He'd gotten used to drinking wine with Y/N occasionally, too, and poured the correct amount for both of them. But he often felt its heady effect after one serving. It was probably what emboldened him tonight, along with the Nat King Cole record in the background, and Y/N's attempt at dimming the pendant light over the table by tying a kerchief under it. “Can I tell you a secret?” Arthur asked, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkins Y/N insisted they use.

As she took another bite of her egg noodles, she grinned and tapped his calf with her toe. “We still have secrets?”

He pressed his lips together. He’d truly opened up to her some time ago, when she’d come back after Murray. But there would always be things he would never tell her. How he’d gotten fired for bringing a gun to the children’s hospital. That he’d quit school at fifteen. Or that he’d had the urge to follow her when they first met.

But this he wanted to share. “I…” He could feel his cheeks turn pink as he chuckled softly. He rested his face on his hand. “I thought about marrying you after we slept together the first time.” Trying to hide his bashfulness, he jabbed at a mushroom, blinking down at his plate.

The response was a full-throated laugh. She put down her fork and picked up her glass. “I’m glad you didn’t say that to me then.” The sip she took was longer than usual. It made him wonder if he’d screwed up, admitting that to her. Then she said, “I knew you were a romantic at heart, but I didn’t realize you were quite so old-fashioned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, concentrating on her wine as she swirled it gently. “I hadn't realized sex was one of your big considerations for getting married. Given how often we had it beforehand.”

He scrunched up his face. “That’s not it.” Sighing, he started eating again. “I didn’t want someone to take you away from me. I was afraid you’d realize I’m a mess and not want me anymore.” Those notions felt ridiculous now and he shrugged at himself. “I just- I wanted you to know how quickly I loved you,” he said quietly.

He could feel the heat of her gaze on him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable - they were beyond that. But he felt his blush deepen. (That reaction was so ingrained in him. Vaguely, he wondered if he’d ever stop doing it around her.)

She cupped his chin and turned him to her, their eyes meeting. His eyebrows lifted and he held his breath, stomach doing a little flip. The adoration he felt for her was reflected back at him. Leaning forward, she kissed him. Though the movements of her lips were soft, the passion behind the gesture was clear. “I apparently like messes. And dimples," she said, squeezing his cheek. "I hadn't been aware they could be so cute." The glare he gave her made her giggle. Then she continued to eat. "I didn't plan on getting married again."

"Why not? You're good at it."

A pleased expression crossed her face. "Thank you." But then she bit her lip. "I've told you how unhappy I was with my ex. And then I had to jump into being miserable with my father. When I was free of all that, I wanted to live for myself." She took her plate to the sink and started rinsing it. "I still do. But it's not the same. You being a part of my life has made it better." Scoffing, she shook her head. "I never expected that from anyone." Her voice was getting rough, which he knew she'd blame on the wine. "I'm thankful for you everyday, Arthur."

He closed his eyes as he took in what she said. The romantic dinner, the LP playing, her precious words (which he planned to jot in his journal later)... The tightness in his breast was acute, and he thought he might burst if he simply continued sitting. Articulating his feelings was difficult when he was overcome. But touching her had become easy. Rising from his seat, he took a step towards her and laid a hand between her shoulder blades, massaging tenderly.

Chuckling, she leaned back against him. "Listen to me prattling on like an idiot. You'd never guess I started dating you for your looks."

He kissed the side of her head. No matter how often she told him how good-looking he was, he'd have his doubts. But he believed she found him attractive. Maybe his ego would someday let that be enough. "Why do you think I started seeing you?" he murmured.

She turned around in his arms and put her hands on his chest. "All right. The clumsy grace hiding under all that reservation probably had something to do with it, too."

The food and wine forgotten, he hugged her, hard, and nuzzled the side of her face. Y/N had told him before not to worry about saying the wrong thing. That when he managed to trust himself, which had gradually become easier, she thought he spoke beautifully. And sometimes the simplest phrases were the best. "I'm glad you married me."

"I love you, too." She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Let's finish that bottle of wine."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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pickalilywrites · 4 years

Text

Asitia

Connie Springer. Springles. Canonverse.

2525 words.

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The sense of hunger goes first. The first night Connie eats, but he hardly pays attention to the food that enters his mouth. Military food has never been appetizing, but tonight it’s especially tasteless. There’s nothing different about it from previous meals - lumpy potatoes with gravy, chicken that’s too dry to swallow without a glass of water nearby, and carrots that have been steamed so long they’ve turned into mush - but Connie can barely stomach any of it. It’s selfish to think that he’s the only one that’s feeling this way. Everyone at his table - Mikasa, Armin, Jean - is mindlessly shoveling food into their mouths if only because they need to keep their strength up. Their portion sizes are a little bigger tonight. It’s in part to celebrate their return home from Liberio, but it’s also because there are fewer soldiers today than there were yesterday. As Connie picks at his food, he lifts his eyes to look up at the empty space at the table where his friend should be sitting. His stomach has been empty for hours, begging him to fill it with whatever food he can, but Connie can’t stand the thought of eating anything now that Sasha isn’t there beside him.

Connie nibbles at a little piece of chicken, wondering why it tastes the same as the potatoes, the gravy, and the vegetables. The textures are different, but in the end, it all tastes like a strange gray paste. Connie can’t even call it food. If Sasha were here, would she say the same thing? But if she were here, the food would taste different, Connie thinks.

“Hey.” A hand touches Connie on the back and rubs light circles between his shoulder blades. When Connie looks over, he sees Jean with his half-eaten tray of food. How did he manage to eat that much? “I know it’s hard … but you need to eat, Connie.”

Connie nods numbly, aware of the concerned eyes that watch him. “I know,” he says, but his fork still sits idly in his hand. Nothing about the food in front of him looks edible. The colors are too dull and the shine of the chicken skin - Sasha’s favorite part of the bird, Connie remembers - is strange and rubbery. It doesn’t even smell like food, Connie thinks. Food that doesn’t taste, doesn’t smell, doesn’t look like food doesn’t deserve to be called food.

There’s another hand, this time on Connie’s shoulder. “Don’t force yourself,” Mikasa says, her voice gentle. “Just eat as much as you can.”

He swallows as he looks at the tray in front of him, its contents almost entirely untouched. “I know,” he manages to say, but he knows he won’t eat another bite.

The rest of the night Connie spends pushing his food around with his fork, hoping that he’ll grow hungry by some miracle and wolf the entire meal down. That miracle never comes and he’s left listening to the sound of his remaining friends chewing their food in silence, all trying to get through this meal the best that they can. He thinks of discarding his food, but throwing it away feels like a waste so he ends up offering it to a group of soldiers that are celebrating Paradis’ victory because they’re too young to realize what they’ve lost in the process. He feels relieved when the food is out of his sight, believing that he won’t have to think about eating just as long as food isn’t sitting in front of him any longer.

That night his stomach feels like a cavity in his torso, ravenous and needing to be filled. Connie lies awake in bed, listening to the growling in his stomach. He feels the gnawing in his belly, his stomach desperate for any form of sustenance, but Connie feels no need to satisfy it. He goes to sleep completely empty.

The rest of his senses follow in the days after. After the first night, the world loses its color. Connie sees the world in muted colors - the world is no longer bright and vibrant and beautiful. It’s painted in sepia tones as if someone had taken a photograph and let it age in the sun. Connie thinks that maybe it’s the lighting in the airship that somehow made him see the world in monochrome, but he walks up to the window and looks out into the ocean. The first time he had seen it, it was a glittering sapphire blue. Today it’s black like velvet. For a brief moment Connie wonders if it’s the weather, but he looks up at the sepia sky and there’s hardly a cloud. There’s just the sun, the only white in this landscape of dull tones, and Connie thinks it’s strange that it doesn’t hurt when he stares straight into it.

He should probably tell someone about it, he thinks, but what’s the point? Connie finds that the world isn’t so bad in black and white. It’s probably better this way. There’s no point in seeing the world in color, not when Sasha isn’t here.

Connie goes to bed early that day even though he had only been awake for an hour. He tells Jean not to worry about him. He’s just tired after yesterday. After all, who wouldn’t be after everything they’ve just been through? He just needs to recover, Connie assures his friends whenever they come to check up on him. He doesn’t tell them that he can’t eat even as his stomach is eating away at him and he fails to mention that he can no longer differentiate between colors because the world has turned into a black and white painting. He doesn’t tell them that he can’t stop thinking about Sasha. He’s sure they already know already anyway.

The next few days, Connie loses his sense of feeling. He doesn’t notice when his friends touch him, only aware of them when he’s seemingly dragged out of bed by some invisible force. He’s lifted up gently, then shaken hard when he doesn’t respond. Connie’s eyes flutter open and he sees Mikasa shaking him, shouting something. He wonders why her voice is muted, barely audible as if she’s speaking underwater. It might be a product of just waking up, he thinks, but his hearing is the same after he’s sat up and up. Everyone’s voice is like that, Connie realizes, as he watches his friends surround him, their mouths flapping open and shut silently like fish. He looks at them numbly, not registering any of their words. He only understands what they’re saying when they pull him out of bed, pointing at the window and showing him that they’ve finally landed.

He follows them out of the airship, not bothering to change out of the soldier’s uniform that he’s been wearing for days. As soon as they step out, his friends raise their hands to block the blinding sun from their eyes, but Connie hardly notices it. Beyond them stand the people of Paradis, cheering for them loudly as the soldiers descend from the airship, but all Connie hears is muffled applause. His friends around him put on fake smiles as they welcome the applause, but all Connie can think of are the caskets that are being carried out behind him. He thinks of one casket in particular, the one that holds the friend that should be standing beside him. He hangs his head and walks wordlessly past the crowd.

The following days are shrouded in black - black skies, black thoughts, black dreams. He goes to Sasha’s funeral a few days after the ship lands. It’s jarring to see everyone dressed in black and surrounded by all of Sasha’s favorite wildflowers. If she were here, she would probably laugh at them, asking them why their faces are so glum when there are so many beautiful things surrounding them, and she’d convince Connie to run away with her so they could steal a plate of appetizers and eat it under the table. But the only reason that they’re gathered together like this is that Sasha’s not here and there’s no escaping that fact now that he’s seen her lifeless body in its casket.

Everybody is crying as Sasha’s casket is lowered into the ground. Everyone except Connie, that is. He doesn’t think he can shed a single tear because the person in the coffin isn’t Sasha. Sasha was never that lifeless. He had seen her leave himself - too soon to stop the gun but quick enough to see the bullet fatally pierce through her ribs and lodge its way into her heart. Her blood ran from her side, staining the floor and draining her of any color. That was the last time he ever saw Sasha. This body in front of him is only a pale imitation of everything Sasha once was.

He watches as dirt is poured onto the wooden casket, black on black. His friends wail and Sasha’s family members - her parents and her adopted siblings - try to rush towards the casket but are held back by other attendees. Only Connie is quiet, unaffected, a silent observer. Even after the burial is over and the procession has dispersed, Connie remains at Sasha’s grave. He stays there long after the sun has gone down and night has fallen. He would have stayed longer if Jean hadn’t dragged him away.

Jean takes him to the feast being held at the castle tonight. It’s supposed to celebrate Paradis’ recent victory, but Connie finds it insensitive considering everything that has happened. If he weren’t friends with Historia, he would have skipped the dinner entirely. It would have been more appropriate to hold this dinner at a different time - any day that wasn’t today, really - but he doesn’t know Historia’s schedule. Maybe she has other things on her calendar.

By the time Connie arrives, soldiers and noblemen are already on their second plate. He takes a seat beside Armin while Jean goes to fix him a plate of dinner - a slab of roast pork, hearty soup with rich beef broth and chunks of carrots and potatoes, leafy green salad decorated with cherry red tomatoes and sweet onions and finished with a creamy sauce, and the heel of a golden baguette with a soft, white crumb. A week ago, the sight of such rich food would have made Connie salivate. Seeing it now makes Connie’s stomach churn and he can’t imagine eating even the smallest bite. Everyone around him seems to have no trouble eating, scarfing it down as if it’s their last meal. It disgusts him.

He picks up his fork and idly pushes his food around his plate, ignoring the chatter of the people beside him. The more he plays with his food, the less it looks like food. The beef begins to look like the lettuce begins to look like the bread begins to look like the soup and they all begin to look like a shapeless mass on his plate. Connie’s stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten anything in almost a week, but he doesn’t feel hungry at all.

Connie looks up when a finger taps on the rim of his plate. It’s Mikasa, her expression making it hard for Connie to tell if she’s mad at him or concerned. He thinks she’s about to say something, but she simply gestures for him to eat. Doesn’t she know that if he could eat, he would have done so by now?

He looks down at his plate again, this time trying to decide which item he’ll be most likely to stomach without too much trouble. Connie decides that the bread is the most inoffensive, and he breaks off a piece of it. He can tell it’s fresh by how cleanly he can break it off and how warm it feels in his hand. He can’t remember the last time he’s had such freshly made bread, but he can’t find it in himself to be excited. Instead, he bites into it tentatively, expecting it to be tasteless just like all of the food before, but the taste on his tongue is so much worse.

For a moment, it’s as if Connie has regained his senses if only for a moment. When the bread touches his tongue, he tastes the buttery crust and the light airy wheat of the crumb. He bites down, expecting the flavors to intensify and remind him that he once enjoyed eating. The bread crumbles on his tongue, turning to ash and leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. In his surprise, he swallows it down, but it burns as it goes down his throat. Connie clutches at his throat with one hand and grabs for a glass of water with the other. Hurriedly, he tips the glass towards his lips, not caring that water is running down his chin and onto his clothes. The glass falls from his hands and onto the floor, shattering.

Connie bolts from the table and runs into the bathroom, his throat searing with pain. He kneels in front of the toilet. He clutches at his stomach, which demands for more food despite how badly the rest of Connie’s body rejects it. He tries to swallow - once, twice - in a useless attempt to keep the food down. The bile builds in his throat, bitter and vile, until he can no longer help it. Connie leans forward, retching. He’s hardly eaten anything, but his body still heaves violently even though all he has left to give up is air.

The bitter taste is still left in his mouth even after he’s done, and Connie collapses on the ground against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. His stomach roars at him, demanding more food. Connie lets it rumble, knowing that any attempt at satiating it is futile.

As Connie stares at the flickering lights on the ceiling, he becomes aware of the darkness that is swallowing up the room. It starts in the back corner, blending in so well with the black and white lens that Connie has grown accustomed to that he almost doesn’t notice. It’s only when it covers the entire wall that Connie begins to really pay attention. His eyes follow it as it slowly slides down the other walls and spills onto the floor, creeping up towards him. Even when he blinks, it doesn’t go away. By the time it reaches him, Connie has accepted the growing void. He watches as it eats away at him, ravenous like the feeling in his stomach. Slowly he disappears, his hands and feet go first followed by his arms and legs. The black slinks up his torso, up his belly and traveling up his chest. As he disappears, Connie finds that the gnawing sensation at the bottom of his stomach also disappears. The void slides up his neck, and gone is the memory of tonight’s dinner burning down Connie’s throat. It’s a relief, Connie finds, not feeling these things. It’s a relief not feeling anything at all, so he lays there in silence, his eyes closed as he lets the darkness consume him.

#snk #connie springer #sasha braus #springles #canonverse #ahhh my nose keeps bleeding this week #it's the weather or maybe the stress #stay safe everyone!!!

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