#this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg
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how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid
pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader
summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words
a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read
Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.
There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.
Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.
“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”
Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.
Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.
“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”
You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.
“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”
When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.
Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.
That’s when Elle noticed.
Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.
“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”
Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”
Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?
Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”
“Are you implying something?”
“Yes.”
“I-I don’t. I can’t-“
“You can’t or you won’t?”
Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.
Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”
Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“
“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”
And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.
He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.
+++
The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.
A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.
He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can I… help you?”
“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”
He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.
Step 1: Actually talk to her.
Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.
“What does this mean?”
“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”
Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.
Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.
“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.
Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”
At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.
“Pay attention!”
“She’s distracting!”
“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”
With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”
The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.
Step 2: Make her laugh.
“I can’t do that.”
She scoffs, “Reid.”
“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”
Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.
“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”
Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.
God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.
“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.
Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.
“Hi, Doctor Reid.”
Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.
He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”
“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”
Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.
Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!
“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.
“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“
He looks up then. This is his chance, right?
“Are you busy right now?”
You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”
It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?
If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.
You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.
“She rejected me.”
“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”
“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”
“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”
Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.
Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.
Spencer laughs.
“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.
“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.
With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”
Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.
But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.
He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.
Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.
Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.
+++
JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.
There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.
You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.
In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.
At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”
“Like a toddler?”
“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”
You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.
Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.
Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.
“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”
Spencer knows where this is going.
“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”
“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”
“Elle-“
Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”
“About what?” Spencer asks.
“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”
Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.
“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”
“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”
“You’re telling me to ask her out?”
Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?
“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.
With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.
“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.
“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.
“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.
You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”
He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.
He can’t help but grin when you laugh.
Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.
“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”
He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.
“To go to the museum with me?”
It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”
Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“…Yes?”
If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.
You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”
Spencer is speechless. You would love that?
“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”
Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?
You giggle.
“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.
“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.
You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.
Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”
Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#mine#this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg#also this was longer before editing and originally included a whole thing with a male police officer being interested in reader but it was#already SO LONG
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Weight on My Shoulders
A very self-indulgent prequel to my not so kinky soulmate AU (Tumblr/AO3).
Any references to events or messages involving my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde is purely coincidental. I promise we are much more needy than this.
Ship: Geraskier (pre-romantic)
CW: Far too much pining, mentions of anxiety, long distance friendships
_____
Jaskier pouted as he wrapped himself up in his weighted blanket and duvet. Even with the additional weight he was struggling to sleep properly, but it did help. What would really help was a hug from his soulmate, but that was off the table. Geralt was a bazillion lightyears away, all the way in America, and Jaskier was stuck in miserable, grey England. They’d been talking online for two years, and the distance wasn’t getting any easier. If anything it was getting worse, and Jaskier wasn’t sure how much more he could take of it.
“Jask, you’re falling asleep, love,” Geralt hummed from the too bright screen that was lighting up his room. “Go to bed.”
“I’m in bed,” Jaskier huffed.
“Go to sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”
Jaskier whined, sinking further into his blanket burrito. “But I have work again tomorrow, I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, smiling warmly at him through the screen, “But I will be here when you wake, I promise.”
“I’d rather you be here with me.”
It was pathetic. Jaskier knew it was pathetic, but he just felt a warmth in his chest, a ghost of Geralt’s arms around him.
“I’m always here” Geralt hummed in his mind.
Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s mental embrace, letting himself soak in the glow of his soulmate’s warmth. He was struggling to keep his eyes open which didn’t really matter but he only had a few hours each day to video call his soulmate and he hated wasting any of them. It had been worse the last few days. Essi and Pris had announced they were going to honeymoon in New York, and whilst they wouldn’t see Geralt, they would be a whole lot closer than Jaskier had ever been. He’d even considered asking to tag along in their suitcases so he could afford the trip to the States.
He just missed Geralt so fucking much.
“I love you,” he mumbled again, wiping the tears from his eyes that he hadn’t even realised had formed. “I love you more than Dandelion.”
He tried to laugh but it sounded weak to his own ears. Dandelion was a musician, just like he was hoping to be, a beautiful tall elegant man with gorgeous long blond curls, and a laugh that could outshine a thousand suns. He was also Jaskier’s celebrity crush and inspiration. Jaskier had been obsessed since he was sixteen, secretly hoping that Dandelion was his soulmate. Not much had changed since meeting Geralt in his dreams. He was still completely obsessed with the musician, only his daydreams tended to include Geralt as well, a fact that his soulmate thankfully found endearing.
“Wow,” Geralt chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s high praise.”
“It’s true! I would renounce my love of Dandelion for mere seconds in your arms,” Jaskier insisted, “and then I would never let you go and you’d be stuck with me.”
“It would be hard to work with a Jaskier in my arms.”
Jaskier scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “You’ll manage.”
“Sleep, Jask,” Geralt’s words were a low hum, added weight to his blanket and Jaskier could feel himself slipping. He supposed it was only a matter of time really, it was nearly midnight and Jaskier had to get up at an ungodly hour for work. “For me.”
And really that was just unfair. Geralt knew that Jaskier would do anything for him. He was just that desperate for attention, although despite his slightly less dramatic personality, Geralt could be equally needy, if you knew how to read him.
“That’s cheating,” Jaskier whined.
“I never said I play fair.”
“Betrayed by my own soulmate,” Jaskier pouted as Geralt hung up the call and his tiny little bedroom fell into darkness. Without the light of his phone, Jaskier was fighting a losing battle. “I love you, dear heart.”
“I love you too, a lot. Too much.”
Jaskier scoffed, turning to hug his pillow. “Never too much, never enough. Goodnight, my love”
“Night, Jask.”
_______
When he awoke the next morning, Jaskier had a notification on his phone. It wasn’t unusual. Geralt often left him little messages, pictures of Roach, or things that had reminded him of Jaskier throughout the day. Sometimes, if Jaskier was lucky, Geralt would leave him gifs of Dandelion, and on even rarer occasions, awkward selfies that were never flattering despite Geralt’s godlike appearance. Jaskier treasured every single one. But no, that morning he had a more unusual notification.
It was from Lambert.
They’d talked a couple of times, mostly in a group chat whenever Geralt wanted to include Jaskier on family film night or playing games online, which Jaskier was shockingly terrible at, especially the shooting games the boys preferred. Lambert had never DM’d Jaskier before though. There had never been an occasion to, so why bother?
So Jaskier was feeling more than a little anxious about clicking on the message.
“Geralt?” he tested, although he was pretty positive that his soulmate was asleep. Geralt would usually at least say good morning when he was awake, but there had been nothing but silence through their soulbond.
It came as no surprise when Geralt didn’t answer.
His phone buzzed again in his hand, another message from Lambert.
“Bollocks,” Jaskier groaned, sitting up in bed so he could find his glasses. They were buried under his blanket and looking a little bent out of shape but that was nothing new.
L - Guess who’s coming to England on a business trip!
Jaskier’s heart jumped and hope soared through his body, a flutter of wings in his chest as his pulse raced, only to be destroyed in the next second.
L - It’s not Geralt, shit. I should have started with that.
- It’s me.
- I’m coming to England. Found out this morning. All expenses paid. - I’ll be in London for a week, if you want to meet up?
Jaskier stared at his phone. He was excited, of course he was but he couldn’t help the ache in his heart. His friend was coming to England. Geralt’s family was coming to England. That was one step closer to meeting his soulmate in person, but it wasn’t far enough. He felt like shit. Guilt tore through him. Lambert was clearly excited about his news and yet all Jaskier could think of was how he wasn’t Geralt.
Maybe he could give Lambert something to take back to Geralt. They’d sent letters and parcels back and forth but it would be different like this, and he should be excited. He should be over the fucking moon.
And truth be told, if he hadn’t felt so incredibly needy already he probably would have been more excited, but his heart was feeling fragile. Jaskier had spent the last week or so wondering if Geralt loved him back in a romantic way, or whether they would just be the dearest of friends. Whatever it was, Jaskier would be fine. That’s how soulbonds worked. They would be perfect for one another, platonically or romantically but Jaskier fell hard and fast.
Surely Geralt would love him back in the same way, right?
Jaskier was too afraid to ask at this point. He just kept saying “I love you” and hoping that Geralt would hear the truth. Neither of them had spoken about dating other people, but Jaskier knew there was no hope for him. Perhaps the odd fling, but he’d tried that once and without the connection he had with Geralt, he just wasn’t really into it.
He sighed dramatically and picked up his phone.
J - That’s fucking brilliant!!
He added a stream of emojis for good luck.
J - and all expenses paid for?! Drinks are on you, darling x
L - You should be so lucky.
- Pay for your own drink you cheapskate.
Jaskier squinted at the screen, pushing his fringe from his face. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he ignored the dryness in his throat. Logically, he knew he should get up and get some water but his bed was comfy and he didn’t quite want to face the day yet, especially as Geralt was asleep. Things just felt heavier when Geralt was asleep.
He sighed again and tapped out a message.
J - Can you sneak Geralt in your suitcase?
- I’ll pay for the luggage fee <3
Lambert started typing immediately and Jaskier waited with bated breath. It had been a joke but there was always a chance that Lambert would be allowed a plus one… right?
L - I’m afraid not
- I’m sorry. I know you want to meet.
- Geralt is just as upset. The bastard hasn’t spoken to me all day.
Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d sensed something had been bothering his soulmate, especially when Geralt was the one to insist they video-called before Jaskier went to bed, but it was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one being pathetic and unreasonably grumpy. Sometimes it felt like Jaskier felt everything and Geralt was just putting up with him because he didn’t have much choice. In his heart, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true, that Geralt just showed his love in a more sedate manner.
Opposites really do attract.
He sighed and switched chats, typing out a quick message to his soulmate.
J - I miss you. I love you. I will be unbearably needy today. Sorry!
Flipping his phone to the camera app, Jaskier snapped a quick selfie. He looked like a mess of stubble, glasses and ratty hair… but Geralt never seemed to mind.
J - Isn’t your soulmate the best?
- Love me?
- I love you
- I already said that but it’s true.
Jaskier cursed and threw his phone onto the end of the bed before remembering that he hadn’t answered Lambert yet. He pouted and scrambled to find his phone again, struggling against the weight of his blanket. The blanket did wonders for his ADHD but it could be a pain in the arse to move sometimes. Reluctantly, he switched back to Lambert’s chat.
J - I can’t wait to show you around! Ooh we could go to the natural history museum, I’m sure some of the stuffed animals look just like you! Or maybe a show!
L - Not sure how much I’’ll be able to hang out, but we’ll have to get a photo to show Geralt.
- He’ll probably be jealous.
- But he’ll manage.
Jaskier rolled his eyes. Siblings could be the worst. He’d never really gotten on well with his own sisters but he could imagine having Lambert for a brother would be a hundred times worse. Still, he smiled at his phone. Geralt would be jealous. Geralt wanted to meet him. That was a good thing, no matter how much Jaskier pined to see his soulmate over Lambert.
This was a start.
One day.
They would meet one day, and then Jaskier would never have to let him go. He just had to be patient… for now.
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Are you still doing the fluff alphabet? If so, could you do Levi?? Thank you 😘
Absolutely! Fluff alphabet masterlist is here
School may be crashing and burning but at least I’ve got time to write :) lmao
I wrote this at 3 AM and I refuse to edit, so enjoy <3
Fluff Alphabet: Levi
A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?
I honestly don’t think the activity matters to him. He likes to stay home a lot because it’s easier, and because he feels more comfortable somewhere private. Big fancy dates aren’t super common because he views expensive romantic dinners and such as a cliche that he’s too old and mature for, but if it’s something his s/o would be excited about, he’d be secretly excited to indulge sometimes. He’d also probably enjoy museums and art galleries. But again, for the most part, he just wants to spend time with them, it doesn’t matter where.
B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?
Levi’s definitely not an appearance-oriented person. Don’t get me wrong, he thinks his s/o is stunning, and he makes sure they know it. But that’s not what he admires about them, their connection is so much deeper than that. He genuinely sees them for who they are and not what they look like, which is why they’re just so beautiful to him, if that makes sense.
C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?
He probably panicked the first time he saw his s/o struggling. He’s not the most in tune with his emotions, so he especially doesn’t know how to help others with this kind of thing. But I feel like his protective instincts would kick in and he would actually be really comforting. Most likely, he’d just sit by his s/o’s side silently and make his presence known until they were feeling well enough to talk. At which point he hears them out and offers some advice, of course with the perfect amount of sarcasm and shit jokes to cheer them up a bit. And he’d probably ask them later what they would prefer he do in that situation if it happens again, which of course he would remember in the future.
D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?
This is a point of internal conflict for Levi, for sure. After everything he’s been through, again, he’s become pretty emotionally closed off. He can’t really depend on anything or anyone staying in his life for too long because they never have. So it would really take a while before Levi can really start to picture his future with his s/o. Even then, he would feel a bit guilty for allowing himself to indulge in those dreams. But at the end of the day, he just dreams about some sort of stability with his s/o some day. He doesn’t really care about the details, he just wants to know that they’re going to be together, and that they can develop some kind of routine and stability that he never really had in the past.
E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?
It’s definitely equal. Levi shares any decision-making with his s/o, and he’d definitely prefer that they do the same, just because that makes their partnership stronger. Because they are very much a team.
F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?
Levi does tend to have a bit of a temper, but it’s not something that he would ever want to bring into his relationship. He doesn’t let either of them fight over something petty just because it’s not worth it. And with a more serious disagreement, he’d try hard to start a genuine discussion about it. Things happen, though, so they obviously get in fights sometimes. Levi can be kind of rude when he gets really frustrated, which is why he tries to avoid it. But he’d never actually say something to hurt his s/o, even when they’re both upset. Usually, even the rare argument calms down enough to be settled rationally.
G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?
He is so incredibly grateful for his s/o; he sees and appreciates everything they do for him, and he makes sure it’s known. Explicitly saying something like that makes him a bit uncomfortable, so he finds other ways to silently show his gratitude. He makes sure his s/o’s favorite mug is always clean, and he makes them his favorite blend of tea whenever he sees that they’re stressed out. Just little things that he does to make sure they know he’s thinking about them.
H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?
There are pretty much no secrets in the relationship. The past is a little complicated; there are a few stories that Levi probably will never be able to share (or at least, it will take a very long time), and his s/o is more than entitled to keep secrets about their past that they just cannot share. But other than that, it’s an open book. Levi wouldn’t see any reason to lie about most things, unless it’s about keeping his s/o safe, and it would make him really uncomfortable to know that his s/o keeps secrets. Not that there are no boundaries, it’s just that he wouldn’t want to pour his heart out and be vulnerable just to find out that the other person doesn’t trust him as much.
I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?
I think Levi’s s/o probably helps him a lot, actually. He’s been emotionally closed off for a long time, and being in a relationship with trust and a deep connection would help him to open up a bit and be more vulnerable. He also just lets himself be a bit happier and more optimistic with his s/o, so his life is just a bit easier in general.
J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?
He’d never admit it out loud, but he actually does get pretty jealous. It’s mostly just self esteem issues, not a lack of trust at all. He trusts them more than enough to know that they’re not going to secretly abandon him, so of course he’d never make a big deal out of it (although I think it goes without saying that if someone is hitting on his s/o or something in public and they look remotely uncomfortable, he would go absolutely batshit) But, still, sometimes he can’t help feeling sometimes like he’s not enough for them. He tries to hide it, but it’s pretty obvious that he’s sulking when he’s upset, so his s/o would most likely spot it immediately. And all he would really need is a gentle reminder that he IS enough for them.
K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?
Alright I’m conflicted on this one. I’m just gonna say it, his first kiss with his s/o was kind of just not that great. He wouldn’t DARE not ask for proper consent, HOWEVER he ended up asking like three times just to make sure it was alright, which made it a teensy bit awkward. Once he finally gave in, he just gave them the teensiest little kiss and that was it for like two weeks. He’s not really great with physical touch so it takes a while for him to get comfortable. His s/o would probably have to take over from there or else they’d never kiss again, but once he gets comfortable, he does fine.
L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?
It’s during something incredibly mundane, probably just a car drive or a regular movie night. He’s going about his day when he realizes he loves them, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna stew on that knowledge for another two weeks just because he’s too nervous. So in the middle of a movie or just like halfway home from the store, he just blurts out “hey, I love you”. It’s completely by surprise, but it’s not like it’s particularly early or far into the relationship, so it makes sense. From then on, he wouldn’t be the type of person to say it all the time (I mean, come on, his s/o should know by now, it’d just be stupid). But he also wouldn’t hold himself back from saying it when he’s feeling particularly grateful for his s/o one day. And hearing them say it back would definitely make him blush just the slightest bit every time.
M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?
Levi would be absolutely terrified to get married. BUT that’s not to say that he wouldn’t want to. It would take some considering, sure, but especially if it’s something he knows his s/o wants, he’s all in. He’d probably propose in a similar way to how he first said he loves them, except at least just a bit more planned out. It wouldn’t be a cliche grand proposal with doves and rose petals and champagne, that would drive him crazy. Most likely, he surprises them with a homemade dinner, sets the table with candles, and hands them the ring. He’d put on a confident face, but he’s panicking for sure. He’s not really a marriage-y person, so he’s not going to be buying those matching couple towels that have like “mr ackerman” and his s/o’s name on them, and he’s most definitely not giving in to those cheesy weird nicknames (”hubby” makes him glare so hard). But he would love the perceived sense of stability, commitment, and routine that go along with marriage.
N icknames - What do they call their s/o?
Just their name, for the most part. Maybe “love” or “sweetheart”, but he always says that most nicknames are just too cliche. I mean, only lovestruck 20 year olds call each other “babe”, and that is most certainly not their relationship. But, honestly he wouldn’t mind if his s/o gave him one of those cheesy names... not that he’d ever let on to that, of course, but if they happen to figure it out one day... he wouldn’t be mad. Mostly he just loves to hear his name in their voice, so they call each other by their names.
O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?
The token stoic expression Levi keeps in public isn’t going away just because he’s in love. To an outside eye, absolutely nothing is different. But even in public, his s/o can probably tell. Maybe it’s something about the way his eyes are just slightly warmer, slightly brighter. Maybe it’s because he’s just the slightest bit more willing to talk and hold a conversation when they’re by his side. But when they’re alone, he finally lets down that stone expression, and he’s like a whole different person. It doesn’t happen often, but on days where he’s just absolutely lovestruck, he walks around his house smiling, holding his s/o’s hand, maybe even curling up on the sofa together to nap. On those days, he just kind of lets himself be happy.
P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?
Levi’s definitely not a fan of PDA. The relationship isn’t a secret by any means, but he’s also not broadcasting it for the entire world to see. The people close to him know, and that’s plenty. He doesn’t like PDA partly because it’s too vulnerable, but also just because it’s kind of gross and unnecessary to him.
Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.
This man has the best memory of anyone you’ll ever meet. It’s honestly a bit unsettling, but he remembers everything his s/o says, and he’ll find a way to bring it up like months later. Sometimes it’s as simple as remembering their favorite food and bringing it to them when they’re stressed out. But it could even be so crazy as them saying in a random conversation in July that they hate when mashed potatoes aren’t totally mashed, and boom, at Thanksgiving that year, they find him mashing the potatoes a little extra just to make sure. (Don’t ask how I came up with that example, my brain is weird.) His mind is a steel trap, and he uses it to his advantage.
R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?
Cliche romance irritates him so much, he avoids it at all costs, so he’s mostly creative in that sense. He has an eye for picking out ways to make his s/o happy, and even though he doesn’t consider himself particularly romantic, he actually really is.
S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?
Absolutely! Levi wants nothing more than to help his s/o achieve whatever they’re working towards, and he’s completely supportive. Anything he can do, any help or emotional support he can offer them, he’s more than willing.
T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?
I don’t think he’s AGAINST trying new things, but he really just prefers a routine. Again, it makes him happy to have that connection of stability with his s/o, and he feels so much more comfortable knowing he can depend on that.
U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?
He’s very empathetic. He might struggle sometimes with understanding, just because it’s not very likely that he and his s/o have had similar experiences in life, but he knows them like the back of his hand. What he lacks in immediate understanding, he makes up for in conversations about any issues and an ability to read their expressions really really well.
V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?
Honestly, if Levi is in a long term relationship with someone, they’re one of the most important parts of his life. He doesn’t make superficial connections, and he especially doesn’t open up to people he doesn’t care deeply about, so it’s safe to say that he values his s/o greatly.
W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.
He buys his s/o flowers once a week. It’s just a little tradition that makes him happy, and he likes seeing that it makes his s/o happy, so he’s kept it going. If they don’t like flowers, then maybe it’s a little trinket they collect, or a cookie from their favorite bakery. But regardless, he hasn’t missed a week since they’ve been together, it’s really important to him.
X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?
He’s not necessarily an overly affectionate person. There are occasional days where it really just hits him how lucky he is, and he just wants to hold his s/o for a while and not go do anything that day. But for the most part, he’s not clingy in any means, and his s/o would have to initiate most cuddling. He’ll let them know if he’s really not in the mood, but he usually doesn’t mind (because let’s face it he’s a teensy bit touch starved). But yeah, he shows his affection in different ways for the most part.
Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?
It’s not really an issue for him. He’s always been an independent person, so even after he lets himself trust that his s/o isn’t leaving him, he’s not going to be that level of dependent on their presence. He probably would have to fill up his schedule a bit more, though, just so he didn’t have too much down time to get all sad and miss them. He’d also probably clean everything in his sight to calm down until they return.
Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?
He’s zealous for sure, he isn’t about to let go of a relationship that means this much to him just because he wasn’t willing to put in the work. He’d do as much as he could to make it work.
#attack on titan#attack on titan headcanons#aot headcanons#aot#shingeki no kyojin#snk#shingeki no kyojin headcanons#snk headcanons#levi#levi ackerman#fluff alphabet#levi fluff
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Friends
A/N: Okay, so sometimes I write incredibly self-indulgent fics to process shit happening in real life. And I almost didn’t post this, but I feel like if it can help someone, then it’s worth it to post. I promise to work on other things shortly, but here’s a short thing until then.
Tags: none, just loneliness
Words: 1041
Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31
It was your third week in Manhattan SVU, and you were still coping. You had moved from California to New York, and you missed your friends back home. Sure, you kept in touch—when you could—but it wasn’t the same. And though the squad you now worked with was friendly, you felt out of place. The last new person, Sonny, had been there for two years already and you could see how close all their relationships were to each other.
They had invited you out for drinks and get togethers, but you always came up with some excuse. You were always too nervous, too afraid of what they’d think of you. So, you instead spent your nights at home, alone, catching up on whatever hobbies kept you entertained. But eventually, the soul-crushing loneliness ate away at you.
You were in the breakroom, grabbing a snack from the vending machine. There was laughter behind you, and you glanced over, seeing Fin, Sonny, and Amanda talking and joking with each other. You tried to ignore the stab of sadness, tried to blink away your tears before they fell. You were so wrapped up in your own emotions that you didn’t hear anyone approaching.
“Hey, are you okay?” a voice asked. You recognized it as Sonny, and you quickly wiped away your tears before giving him a fake smile.
“Yep! Fine! How’re you?” you replied, voice a little too high pitched.
Sonny’s brow was furrowed with concern. “Are ya sure you’re okay? Wanna talk about it?”
That was the last thing you wanted to do. But him asking if you were alright with that look of deep concern made your nose burn with unshed tears. “I—I’m fine. Back to work,” you said, giving up on the snack and practically running out of there. He watched you go, wondering what just happened.
***************
You had been able to compose yourself the rest of the day, but there were a couple times you came close to breaking down again. If I can only hold it until I’m home, I’ll be fine, you thought. Though, you caught Sonny glancing at you every now and again.
Just when you were getting ready to leave for the night, a small emergency came in. Liv apologized to you before asking if you could pull an all-nighter in a stakeout—to protect a victim. She offered to give you tomorrow off, to catch up on some sleep, and you accepted; you weren’t going to be doing anything, anyways.
But your heart sunk when Sonny volunteered to join you in the stakeout. Liv agreed, and Sonny shot you a big smile, which you tried to return.
***************
“Are we gonna talk about the breakroom?” Sonny finally asked. It was nearing 3am; you had endured most of the night without him bringing it up, and with three more hours ahead of you, you had hoped he wouldn’t.
You swallowed. “Nothing happened in—”
“You were crying, doll,” he said softly. He let the silence drag on for a moment before continuing, “look, I don’t want to pry into your life or make ya uncomfortable. But if you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. No judgement, promise.”
You took a deep breath, looking out the window, away from Sonny. “I miss my friends, Carisi. I’m…I’m lonely.”
You weren’t sure what he had been expecting, but from his shocked silence, you guessed not that. “I guess you would be a little homesick, being so far from home,” he muttered.
“I’m not homesick; I am heart-breakingly, soul-crushingly lonely! I don’t know anyone, don’t have anyone to talk to or hang out with! They’re all across the country from me!” you took another deep, shuddering breath, wiping away the tears that had appeared.
Silence reigned as Sonny thought through his words. “I’m sorry, doll. I’m sorry that I haven’t made more of an effort to hang out with you. But I do count ya as a friend, if that makes a difference to ya—”
“The last thing I want is you blaming yourself, or any of the squad. It’s my fault; you all have been so sweet, so accepting. And you’ve asked me to come out multiple times.”
“Yeah, but you’re always busy. I should try and wait until you’re free—”
“I’m always free, Sonny. I’ve been lying to you. You’ll ask me out to drinks, and I’ll lie and say I’m unpacking; I’ve finished unpacking weeks ago! In reality, I go home and sit alone, doing nothing.”
He looked stunned as he took in this information. “Then why don’t you want to go out?”
A few more tears escaped your eyes as you looked at him, begging him to understand. “Because I’m afraid—afraid of butting into all your relationships. You’re all such great friends with each other and I don’t know how to approach that.”
“You know, I had trouble making friends, too,” he mused, a small smile on his face.
You scoffed at this. “You? Mr. Social Butterfly?”
He let out a chuckle. “I know, shocking. But I had ta force myself to become like that. I went through four departments in less than a year; I had ta make friends over and over again. And like you, it was hard to insert myself into established friend groups, but I did. It may seem like I’m used to it now, but it wasn’t always like that.”
“I—I just don’t know how to change…” you whispered.
Sonny smiled at you. “Well, you come hang out with me one day. Liv gave us both tomorrow off. So, after we sleep for a little bit, why don’t you and I go out and do something? It can just be us, if that makes ya more comfortable. Or, if ya want, I’m sure I can get Rollins and/or Fin to come, too.”
“I…think I’d rather just one person first,” you said sheepishly.
He nodded. “Understandable. So, just you and me. We can do whatever you want: bowling, hiking, checking out a museum, whatever. Just come hang out with me, okay?”
You wiped away what remained of your tears, giving Sonny a bright smile. “Yeah, okay. No excuses this time. Let’s be friends.”
“Absolutely, doll.”
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OC dump-
hi i’m trying not to think about something so have some self indulgence as an attempt at distraction. not all this art is finished but whatever
i think i forgot to post this TFA version of Buzzard (they/them) and their minicon companion Gremlin (he/him). i just keep giving them redesigns smh. it’s fun though! their TFA version is created when two Allspark shards activate in a plane museum and bring them to life. they fall in with Wreck-gar and go their merry way around collecting anything shiny or interesting. their special ability is snatching anything they want for their magpie hoard, even if it means sneaking a hand into somebody’s internals to pry out a fuel pump! they can do this lightning fast with excellent precision, so oftentimes they’ve already got their new shiny tucked away before anyone even realizes what happened. the concept of stealing needs to be introduced to them gradually. Gremlin helps by having incredible bite strength and an unbreakable jaw, so if Buzzard can’t quite reach something, they can hold him up to whatever they want and have him chomp it. granted, Buzzard is about as tall as Cyclonus, so it isn’t too often there’s something they can’t reach!
have a See-saw (she/they). she knows you’re here. she knows you’re watching her. unfortunately, she is also aware there’s nothing she can do about it, and is thus anxious. that’s their special ability actually, a play on their name, since they “see/saw” the story they’re part of. they have meta information about the universe they live in and what’s going on around them, so she comes across as paranoid, cowardly, and the most intense conspiracy theorist in the world. given that she’s a TFA OC who is an Autobot intel agent, working under Longarm Prime... yeah they know exactly who they’re working for and are properly afraid. nobody is aware of her meta knowledge, so they just assume her uncannily on-point guesses is a sign of being excellent at her job. most people assume their incredibly perfect balance is their special ability, which is the reason they were named See-saw to begin with.
my first Transformers OC, Mantis, and some freakin old art for her too. she started as a Bayverse OC, a deliberate mary sue, because i wanted to explore what being a mary sue would do to a person’s psyche. (the answer is, nothing good) she’s a gentle person with a little too much compassion, sometimes willing to let people take advantage of her because she wants to be kind. but she’s got two younger siblings of her same frametype, Seraph and Quetzal, and she’d move mountains for them. a nice mom friend. her alt mode is a hovercraft, by the way, those circles are large wheels containing rotors.
if you thought i could resist getting accidentally attached to this trio of jokingly-named darlings, you were wrong, which is why i’ve actually made art for them. a trio of contentious sisters, Post Haste, Lambaste, and Toothpaste are all just worker bots. Post Haste delivers mail because she’s pretty fast! even when she delivers it to the wrong person she’s fast enough to go back and correct her mistake with a smile without losing time on her route. Lambaste works alongside people twice her size because of her incredible strength, but oftentimes ends up using that strength to punch people out because they picked a fight with her. she’s got a semi-permanent glower on her, and the only people who are exempt from having a permanent grudge held against them are her siblings (only bc holding two grudges against the ppl she’s related to gets exhausting when you love them too). Toothpaste (yes i actually did name her toothpaste, i wanted their names to rhyme) is very careful with the details of her work, which means the spaces she cleans always end up looking absolutely spotless. usually she’s polite and demure and kind, but if you ruin her hard work (like a certain person who appears below) she will get Toweringly Mad. prepare to be chewed out by the personality equivalent of a furious kitten. each of them are variants on an alt mode inspired by that autonomous car up there. Post Haste is the basic version, Lambaste has a truck bed and a hitch, and Toothpaste has street cleaner attachments, with the big brush forming a skirt.
aaaaaand the most recent OC made out of spite/joke and once again i got too attached. Hot Dog (he/they) only exists because my phone for some reason keeps autocorrecting hot dog to be capitalized. clearly this is my phone trying to give me an OC. he’s a country boy, a buff giant, and a rough-and-tumble boyish neighborhood “no girls allowed”-type rascal, tracking mud and leaves everywhere he goes. also i don’t know how this works but he’s somehow Hot Rod’s cousin. i didn’t know what to do with him until i thought about what he’d be like interacting with other OCs and was promptly slapped in the face with the enemies-to-lovers vibe of prim and proper Toothpaste/annoyed farmboy Hot Dog
#tfoc#buzzard#gremlin#see-saw#mantis#post haste#lambaste#toothpaste#hot dog#transformers#macaddam#wip#i thought about trying to finish these before posting but i have so little art energy rn. gatoraider was a miracle#u can ask about them if u want! they aren't in snap and i dont rly have a super developed story in mind for them but#talking about them is better than being sad yknow!!!!!#long post
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Take a Chance - D. Hamilton
Word Count: 12.7k
Summary: Ashley Miller is a Sunday-morning regular at her local coffee shop. Dougie Hamilton is the associate art curator who catches her eye.
Warnings: coffee shop au, some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, anxiety
A/N: This is my @hockeynetwork winter gift exchange fic for @huttons! I had a lot of fun researching & creating this fic gift, and I tried to incorporate all of the preferences you stated and that we discussed. This is very self-indulgent too, definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, and I’m not going to go into the very niche research rabbit holes I fell down! Bringing this OC to life made me so happy, and I had a blast incorporating the coffee shop au element. I hope you enjoy this! 💚
Also tagging @danglesnipecelly, @texanstarslove and @itsbadgerbadgermushroom because they all listened to me stress while writing hah.
*
“Large latte for Ashley!”
Ashley Miller looked up from her laptop, smiling at her favourite barista at the counter. She got up from her table, leaving her laptop and scone briefly as she collected her drink, before heading back to her seat. Sunday mornings were the same every week – arrive at Storm Surge coffee shop when they opened at 7am, park herself at a table in the back corner, and consume a steady flow of coffee as she worked. Sure, her work might vary – teaching Medieval History at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill meant her lesson topics were all over the spectrum – but she just found that everything from writing notes for her classes that week to marking essays at the end of the semester became easier if she had the thrum of the coffee shop around her.
That, and she knew she’d just spend her entire weekend burrowed in her house if she didn’t get out.
Having moved to Raleigh 6 years ago to undertake her PhD, Ashley had accepted a teaching job at the very same university she’d studied at when she’d completed her studies a year ago, and she hadn’t looked back since. There was just something about Raleigh that she had fallen in love with, only a 30 minute drive away from her workplace, something that had spoken to her very soul, and actually being able to pass on knowledge about the subject that she was so passionate about made her so incredibly happy. Sure, her parents had never understood her love for 11th to 13th century European history (nor anyone else from her small town in South Dakota) but Ashley had never cared about that – New York had given her the opportunity to grow as a person during her undergraduate and postgraduate degrees, but Raleigh had given her the opportunity to thrive.
And she would forever be grateful for that.
Sundays though…Sundays were something she cherished. This independent coffee shop had been a blessing when she’d found it early on in her PhD research, and they had never complained about her taking up a table for essentially the whole day (and she did pay for each of the many coffees she consumed). Baristas and bakers had come and gone over the past 6 years, but there were a couple that had stuck around recently - and a year ago when she officially became ‘Dr Ashley Miller’, her favourite barista Andrei had even given her a piece of chocolate cake on the house to celebrate. Storm Surge coffee shop was a home away from home.
Of course, there was another reason that Sunday coffee shop time was one of her favourite things in her week…
Tall Cute Guy.
He was a regular every Sunday morning, and had been for the past year - three Sundays a month he would order a mocha and an americano to go, but one Sunday a month he would come in an hour earlier and order just an americano, and drink it in the shop instead while reading an old paperback book. Every single time, like clockwork.
Okay, yes, that sounded a little stalkerish. But he was so cute. Ashley pretty much always had her earphones in playing music so she had never caught his name, but his blonde curls, pretty blue eyes and warm smile had caught her eye straight away. And he was so tall, she couldn’t have missed him if she’d tried. She’d never spoken to him, never even said hi in passing, but occasionally she would link eyes with him and he would smile at her. And that smile was enough to send her heart fluttering. Ridiculous really, but it brought her a little joy.
What was the harm in smiling back at a cute guy every now and again, right?
*
Dougie Hamilton walked into the North Carolina Museum of Art with a smile on his face. To be honest, it could’ve been for a multitude of reasons. His career was finally heading upwards, having moved museums to become Associate Curator of European Art a couple of years ago, and he loved his work. He had recently renovated his kitchen, which was now looking pretty sleek and awesome, if he did say so himself. His colleagues had genuinely become some of his closest friends, and he had a standing monthly poker night with several of them. But his smile today wasn’t because of any of that.
No, his smile today was because it was Sunday morning, and he’d just picked up his regular coffee order for him and his boss.
Speaking of…
“So, did you finally talk to your coffee shop crush, or did you just awkwardly stare at her like a weirdo again?”
“Oh fuck off,” Dougie grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up in a fierce blush as his boss Jordie’s words.
It was far too early for this – he’d only just walked into their shared office for fuck’s sake! Jordie just hooted laughter at his embarrassment as he took his mocha from Dougie, making Dougie groan. “One day you’re going to have to talk to her, man. It’s just getting sad now,” Jordie teased.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t we have a museum to open?” Dougie scowled.
Jordie just beamed even more, wiggling his eyebrows as he left their office. Dougie groaned again, running his hands through is unruly hair before he sighed. Coffee shop crush. Hah. Jordie wasn’t wrong though. Not really. His crush…Mystery Laptop Woman…was one of the reasons he always volunteered to pick the two of them up coffee before the museum opened up on a Sunday morning. Jordie had come along with him only once to pick up their coffee, about 6 months ago, and ever since then he hadn’t let Dougie’s shy smile at her go. Of course, Dougie barely knew anything about her – only that she was always in early on a Sunday, always completely consumed by her work, and she had such a super cute concentration face, whatever it is that she worked on. He could never quite tell – sometimes she had a book or two with her, sometimes it was a stack of papers – but he knew for sure that she appeared to mainline coffee like a pro. Probably some kind of teacher?
He’d certainly never had a teacher that beautiful, that was for sure.
Her long dark hair was always down and always a little messy, like she ran her hands through it often (which she did, he’d noticed). Her warm hazel eyes were hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses, and her lips were always coloured in varying shades of dark pink and red. He’d only seen her standing a couple of times, but he’d caught enough of a glimpse of her long legs to have some very inappropriate thoughts. She just looked so kind, so friendly…and so beautiful. Dougie had never been able to catch her name though – she’d always had a full coffee or at least half a coffee left whenever he was in the shop, so he couldn’t even find out sneakily that way. But whoever she was, whatever she did, when he occasionally got lucky enough for her to look at him, her smile made his entire body light up like a fireworks show. It was a bit pathetic really, how much just a smile from her made his entire day, but he was a year into it now and he wasn’t going to stop that for anything. He had a great career, some great friends, and a pretty great life, even if he was tragically single.
What was the harm in smiling at a beautiful woman whenever he got the chance, right?
*
“Alright, we’ve nearly run out of time now, but just one final thing I want you to think about for Monday’s love in the middle ages class,”
On cue, her students groaned, making Ashley grin.
“Hey, I’m giving you a head’s up here – I could just let you walk into our general lecture blind?” she shrugged, teasing.
That got her a few laughs at least. She’d take that.
“Okay, so we know through our focus on the Medieval Expansion of Europe that one of the biggest tales about Eleanor of Aquitaine in the latter half of the 1100s was of her role in the courts of love. What I want you all to look into is whether these courts of love have the possibility of being a real thing, or whether they feed into the chivalric notions of her contemporaries and were fabricated from the courtly love dynamics of knights and maidens. Just to give us some talking points, okay?”
Her students murmured their agreement, with most of them writing down a reminder. That would have to be good enough for her. At least this way, hopefully someone would discuss the talking points with her in class – she’d found out the hard way last year that there was nothing worse for a university professor than completely uninterested students. She needed something to feed off.
“Alright then, class dismissed. Have a great weekend everyone!”
Ashley moved to her laptop, switching off the projected powerpoint presentation as her students filed out of the classroom, but jumped in shock slightly as she noticed the head of her department sitting in the back corner. How long had he been there?! What was he doing there in the first place? She just hoped her smile didn’t look as nervous as she felt, as he walked up to the front of the room.
Rod Brind’Amour was a legend in the History department for a good reason. His knowledge of military history pre-1800s was unmatched by anyone, but it was his research on the first and second crusades that had inspired Ashley through much of her PhD. Sure, he wasn’t her direct supervisor, but their work interlinked enough that she’d spent many office hours with him debating the second crusade with fervour. For such a big man, he was such a nerd, and he’d made her feel so welcome as soon as he offered her the teaching position at the end of her PhD, with the promise that she would be able to continue her research to inspire future minds. She had been so moved by his words that she hadn’t hesitated to accept the job. How could she not, when someone of his calibre believed in her?
One year in, she wasn’t regretting it at all
“Very smart, setting up some talking points for Monday’s class. I’m so glad I volunteered you to run this year’s Love in the Middle Ages lectures. You’re much better at them than I was,” Rod mused.
Ashley snorted, rolling her eyes playfully. Oh thank god. It’s true that this seminar was one part of the large mandatory Medieval and Early Modern Studies course…but it suited her perfectly.
“That’s because my research focuses on Medieval Queens and the exchange of power they brought to their marriage countries, whereas yours is the effect of each of the crusades through military history. Bleurgh,” she snickered, “Linking today’s Medieval Expansion of Europe class with the generic Love in the Middle Ages lectures on Mondays is just easy,”
“Speak for yourself,” Rod laughed, “give me military tactics any day,”
Ashley just grinned. Some things never changed. “Was there anything you wanted in particular?” she asked, packing up her laptop into its case.
“Just wanted to check in with you, in general,” Rod shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her desk.
Ashley couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness. “I’m doing okay yeah, thanks. Last year’s first semester was more of a struggle for sure, but I don’t have that transition from PhD student and TA to full teaching this time round. I’ve definitely settled in quicker – and this batch of freshman feel a lot more engaged already,”
“That’s good! It definitely shows that you’re handling things well,” Rod nodded, smiling back at her, “But I meant in your life outside of the university too,”
Ashley frowned. What? “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
Rod laughed softly at her expression. “I know last year you were trying to find your stride, but this year you’ve already got it, so I’m just checking that you’ve got things balanced outside of work too. It’s far too easy to make teaching your entire life – and I don’t want you to burn out,” Rod explained. “I value you here too much for that,”
Ashley’s heart melted a little at his concern, but she just shook his head. “I may not have much going on for me outside of work, but I do get out. I spend my Sundays in a local coffee shop,” she admitted.
Her mind briefly flashed to Tall Cute Guy, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind before she started blushing. So not appropriate for work.
Rod frowned slightly, but nodded. “At least you’re getting out of the house. Just promise me you’ll work on finding time for yourself too?”
“I promise,” Ashley nodded, “I intend to be here for a long time, so I definitely don’t want to burn out,”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Rod grinned, “I’d better get going – see you at the faculty meeting later?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ashley grimaced.
Rod just laughed at her disgruntled face, lifting his hand in a wave as he left the room. As she packed the rest of her belongings, Ashley couldn’t help but to think over Rod’s words. Was she in danger of a burn-out? Surely not, so early on in her career? Maybe she did need more of a balance in her life…but how?
*
Another Sunday, another early morning. Sure, Ashley could give herself a lie in every now and again, but that would mean not being able to relax on her Sunday evening, to not have the chance to unwind and reset before the working week starts up again on Monday morning. Spending all weekend in her little 2 bed house wouldn’t do her any good, even as comforting as she’d made it.
Besides, Storm Surge coffee shop was such a part of her routine now, that it would feel wrong to not go in at her usual time. Seeing Andrei the morning barista, Marty the supervisor and Jaccob the baker (who occasionally popped his head out) always made her happy – and as Rod said only a couple of days ago, she needed to make sure she actually kept a balance in her life.
So, as always, just after 7am, Ashley walked through the coffee shop door. She’d skipped eating any breakfast this morning, intent on getting one of the shop’s amazing scones fresh out of the oven, and as soon as she spotted her favourite blueberry-lemon scones in the display, something in her chest settled. Yes, this was exactly why she came every week. This feeling of home.
“Good morning Ashley! Your usual latte?”
Ashley smiled at Andrei, nodding. “Yes please. And one of the blueberry-lemon scones!”
Andrei smiled even wider, if that was possible, and immediate set about inputting her order into the cash register. It was then that she noticed something new on Andrei’s nametag. A pink sparkly kitten sticky. Huh. That was new.
“Nice sticker,” she teased.
“Very sparkly, no? Marty gave it to me,” Andre nodded.
“Oh, Marty did huh?” Ashley grinned.
Interestingly, Andrei blushed. She knew she hadn’t been imagining things. The poor Russian guy just blushed harder, spluttering incoherently, until Ashley took pity on him. It wasn’t like she could be mean to Andrei – he was just too adorable.
“I think the sticker is really cute, Andrei. It was sweet of Marty to give it to you,” Ashley said with a fond smile.
“Thank you! I will tell Marty you like it,” Andrei beamed.
Bless him.
Andrei handed her a scone on a plate, allowing her to go to her usual table in the back corner, setting up her laptop while she waited for her coffee to be ready. She heard a door out the back open, and Andrei quickly slipped away, making her smile.
“AHHHHHHHHHH MR SVECHNIKOV!”
Marty. Ashley just giggled, shaking her head before putting her earphones in for her background music. Yeah, this coffee shop definitely felt like home.
She quickly got lost in writing her lecture notes, going off on tangents that she knew she’d have to rein in later when she edited. It was a full hour before she even looked away from her screen, only to see the shop busy and bustling, every single table full. What the hell? She looked over to see both Andrei and Marty working the counter, only confirming her suspicions that they really had gotten busy while she was lost in her thoughts. Wow. Full at 8am was a new one for sure. Maybe a convention of some kind?
And it was then that she saw Tall Cute Guy walk in. Today he was wearing a pretty blue sweater, bring out the beautiful blue in his eyes, making her smile on instinct. So cute. But then she noticed him being given just the one coffee…he was planning on drinking in, and there were no tables? No!
It made her heart clench to watch him looking around the coffee shop, becoming more and more disheartened…until he noticed her. Maybe, could she, yes. Ashley bit her bottom lip but tilted her head towards the empty chair at her table, earning the biggest smile. She actually did it. She actually offered him the chair at her table. Shit. Her heart started beating faster as he walked over, and she took her earphones out as he came to a stop next to her seat, looming over her.
“I, uh…do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked softly.
Huh. Such a gentle voice on such a big man. Yeah she could totally handle this.
“Please, go ahead,” Ashley nodding, smiling as she waved her hand to indicate, “it’s so busy in here today,”
Oh no. Was that too forward, acknowledging that they’re both regulars?
“Definitely busier than usual, eh?” he mused, “I’ll try not to disturb your work, I’ll only be here for about an hour,”
Ashley laughed, but shook her head. She was just glad he hadn’t been weirded-out by her acknowledgement. That would’ve been so awkward. Her stomach was filled with enough butterflies as it was. “You won’t disturb me, I promise. Sit as long as you like,”
He smiled widely at her, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down, Ashley just quickly shuffling her papers out of the way for him. He nodded his thanks at her, pulling a paperback book out of his satchel. Then he cleared his throat, so she looked up at him curiously.
“I’m Dougie, by the way,” he said, almost a little shy.
Dougie. That was a nice name. Oh, wow, she finally knew his name! Ashley couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’m Ashley,”
He smiled back at her. “It’s nice to meet you properly,” he said happily.
Ashley just laughed, nodding as she blushed lightly. To have him acknowledge their smiling-from-a-distance definitely sparked something inside of her. Nice to finally meet him indeed.
They sat in comfortable silence, Ashley typing up her tangent notes so far for the morning, and she couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that sat in her chest. The cute guy she’d been smiling at for a year was sitting at her table with her…and it wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was really quite nice. And he’d introduced himself!
No, cool it, keep calm Ashley. No-one got anywhere by acting like a giddy schoolgirl. Play it cool.
That promised hour flew by far too quickly. Every now and again she would glance up and find his eyes on her. Every now and again she would glance up only for him to look up and catching her looking. Every time she would blush. Every time he would send her a wonderful smile. But all too soon her table companion was standing up and putting his book in his bag.
“Um…”
Ashley looked up from her work at him, a smile naturally spreading across her face at his nervous expression. Why was he nervous?
“Yes, Dougie?” she said softly, smiling at a little more at finally getting to say his name.
Dougie. Dougie. Dougie.
“I’ll see you soon?” he said, almost hopefully.
“I’ll be here,” she nodded.
Oh god. Well that was stupid. Of course she’d be here. Why couldn’t she just act smoothly for once in her life?
But then Dougie smiled, such a happy little smile that it made her breath catch in her throat.
“Until next time then,” Dougie murmured, “Bye, Ashley,”
“Bye,” she breathed, watching him walk way.
Well, that could’ve been worse. What a Sunday.
*
Things felt different after that fateful Sunday. Dougie (she knew his name!) hadn’t sat down with her again, or even sat in the shop again yet, but now…now he always made a point of waving at her, waiting until she had waved back to smile. Those waves sent her into even more of a tizzy, a light blush always on her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but cherish them. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, but he was so handsome and he noticed her. It didn’t hurt to pretend it was more than friendly acknowledgement, right? A girl could dream at least.
It was only Wednesday today, but that meant only one thing. Her weekly phone call with her mom. Knowing Susan Miller, Ashley could picture exactly what her mom was doing. Her phone would be propped up on speakerphone while she pottered around the kitchen, finishing off making dinner while also planning what desserts to bake at the weekend. Her mom led a simple life, a retired teacher herself (although she’d taught at the local elementary school rather than ever leaving town), but it was a happy life. And it was these phone calls that were the only thing that made Ashley miss home.
Nothing was the same as a hug from her mom with a slice of homemade apple pie. But those were the sacrifices she made for her love of Medieval History. They never stayed on the for more than half an hour, but it was just enough to fill Ashley’s heart, at least for a little while.
“And I swear, if he doesn’t stop leaving those nasty cigar butts on the front porch, I’m going to whoop some sense into him!”
“You’ve been saying this for over 20 years mom – I don’t think dad is going to change at this point,” Ashley mused, rolling her eyes fondly.
Her dad had been set in his ways for as long as she could remember. Nothing was going to change that, not even a little nagging from the love of his life.
“Yes, well, he could at least clean up after himself,”
Her parents really were ridiculous human beings – but they loved each other, and that was all that mattered. Even if her dad didn’t clean up his cigar butts.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you weren’t complaining about his cigar butts,” Ashley grinned. “Maybe threaten not to make that corned beef hash he likes. That might help,”
The laughter that flowed down the phone made her smile even more. Fuck she missed hearing her mom’s laugh in person.
“Oh I miss you sweetpea. Are you sure you’re okay down there by yourself?”
“Yes mom, you know I love my work and my life down here,” Ashley said, sighing softly.
Here we go again.
“I just worry about you rattling around in that old house by yourself!”
Rude. It wasn’t that old.
“I promise I’m fine!” Ashley insisted.
Her mom stayed silent, making Ashley bite her lip to stop herself getting frustrated. Her mom would come out with it eventually…
“I worry about you being lonely, that’s all. You’re such an introvert, you always have been,”
And there it was.
“How could I be lonely mom? I have great colleagues that I talk with. And I’m around students all day and I interact all the time with them! And the baristas at my coffee shop know me by name and we chat too,” Ashley listed.
“The baristas don’t count, Ash,”
Poor Andrei. He definitely counted. Ashley couldn’t help but giggle at the sigh in her mom’s voice though. “Okay maybe not, but there is a guy that I’ve talked to,”
“Ooh a guy?”
Oh no. Oh what had she done? She had to nip this in the bud now.
“No, mom, not like that, just a friendly face to wave at,” Ashley insisted.
Dougie’s shy smiles filled her mind, but she shook her head. Now was not the time.
“Oh boo, you should work on changing that,”
Hah. If only.
“You’re impossible, mom,” Ashley sighed fondly.
“I love you too darling,”
*
Today he was going to do it. Today Dougie was going to get to Storm Surge coffee shop a little early, get his americano to drink in…and hopefully sit with Ashley again. Ever since that amazing Sunday morning where she offered him a seat at her table (she offered him!), he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He could kick himself for not being able to do more than wave at her the past three Sundays, but even just the few smiles he seen in passing since have blown him away. Especially with that cute little blush she always had when she waved back at him.
But today he was coming in an hour before he had to get to work, just to have that chance to sit with her and talk with her. Was it a little desperate? Sure. But Dougie never claimed to be anything other than desperate to get to know the beautiful woman he’d only ever seen in passing until now. His schedule didn’t usually allow him the chance – every Sunday the North Carolina Museum of Art opened from 10-5, and he usually got there just after 9 with coffee for him and Jordie, but every fourth Sunday Jordie came in a little later, so Dougie took the time to sit in and read a little before heading into work…and it was the fourth Sunday today. He could only hope that all the nerves and butterflies would be worth it.
Oh fuck, what if she wasn’t even there?
No, she would be. She always was. Enough stalling.
Still…
Dougie walked into Storm Surge with a little ball of nervous anxiety in his chest, praying that Ashley wouldn’t stray from her routine, until he looked over into the back corner…and there she was. He waited until Ashley looked up at him to wave at her, earning a sweet smile and a wave back. Wow, her blush really was so sweet.
“Dougie! You must be drinking in today, yes?”
He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Andrei’s voice, quickly nodding. “Yeah just the usual americano, thanks,”
“You got it,” Andrei nodded, beaming at him.
Dougie quickly paid and moved to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. The shop was only half-full at this time in the morning, unlike last month, so he didn’t have the excuse of busy tables. Maybe…he could just walk up to her, right? He could take that chance, right? Yeah, he could do this.
“Here you go!” Andrei said cheerfully.
“Thanks,” Dougie murmured.
The barista gave him a strange look at his distracted tone, and Dougie knew that Andrei was watching as he walked over to Ashley’s table…but here goes nothing. He could totally do this. He was an adult. He paid his taxes on time and everything. He could definitely ask a pretty woman if he could sit with her again.
“Hey, Ashley,”
She looked up from her laptop with a bright smile, making his breath catch in his throat.
“Dougie! Hi!” she said happily.
She remembered his name! Wow. No, focus.
“Do you, um…do you mind if I sit with you again?” Dougie asked.
Oh god, why couldn’t he just sound cool for once in his life? Why did he always have to be the least smooth version of himself that he could possibly be?
Ashley took one look around at all the empty tables and blushed even more, before she bit her lip and nodded. “Sure, go for it,”
That was a good sign, right?
Dougie sat down with a nervous smile, putting his coffee gently on the table.
“So, um, how have you been?”
Ashley looked surprised (oh god, was she only being polite before?) before that melted into a pleased look. Okay, he could work with that.
“I’ve been pretty good thanks, yeah. I’m just revising the list of essay topics that I’m giving my students on Monday, so not too much work to do today thankfully,” she said, “How about you?”
“I’ve been alright yeah. Work has been a little nuts with the new exhibition at the museum but it’s all come together really well!” Dougie said, beaming. What? Could a man not be excited about artwork? “what do you teach?”
Ashley smiled shyly, looking a little hesitant again. Dougie couldn’t help but frown a little. Had people made her feel awkward about her work before? That wasn’t okay! “I’m a Medieval History professor at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. My general focus is on the power of Medieval queens, but I teach everything from the expansion of medieval Europe to love in the middle ages, as well as on the general medieval and early modern history modules. I did my undergraduate and masters degrees at NYU, but I moved down here for the PhD opportunity. It’s now my second full year teaching and I just…I love it so much,”
A PhD?! Holy shit, that’s impressive. Wow. Just…wow. How could she be any more perfect?
“That’s incredible!” was all that Dougie could say.
“You don’t have to pretend, I know having a PhD isn’t exactly the coolest thing in the world, especially in medieval history,” Ashley mused.
Well it was definitely pretty fucking cool to him, no matter what other people had ever said to her. “I’m definitely not pretending, I promise. Medieval history is fascinating,” he insisted.
Ashley pursed her lips like she didn’t believe him, making Dougie laugh.
“I’m serious! I may not have a PhD but my masters thesis was a specialism in Rembrandt’s work. I’m a total art history nerd – 14th-17th century in particular,” Dougie explained.
Come on, let the nerdiness pay off for once…
Her face immediately lightened, her mouth forming into a surprised ‘o’, making him laugh again. At least, he hoped it was a good surprise?
“One of the classes I’ll be teaching next semester is Italian Renaissance and European History to 1650,” she murmured.
Holy shit. What a match up.
“Told you I wasn’t pretending to be interested,” Dougie grinned, “I’d definitely love to learn more about that class when you start it,”
Ashley blushed again, but her nervous smile had shifted into a full beaming smile, and his heart could only just about take it. Then she froze slightly, blinking, as if she’d forgotten something. What?
“Sorry, did you say museum earlier?” Ashley said suddenly, “like, you work at a museum?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” Dougie nodded.
He did his best not to puff out his chest in pride. He’d worked damned hard on his career and he was proud of it.
“I just…wow, I wouldn’t have expected it,”
Dougie laughed, raising an eyebrow at her sheepish smile.
“A guy who looks like you, like such an athlete’s build…oh god, sorry, that’s so rude of me,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
But Dougie just laughed, shaking his head. “Believe me, it’s far from the first time I’ve heard that,”
And never with such appreciation of his body either…
Look, he knew how the world perceived him on first glance. Tall, muscled guy, blonde hair and blue eyes, probably an all-american jock right? How he loved proving them wrong.
“Still doesn’t make it okay,” Ashley winced, “so I’m sorry,”
“Apology accepted,” Dougie mused, “I love my work, so it’s fun surprising people. Especially people with similar interests,”
Ashley bit her lip again but nodded and smiled, tilting her head to show she was listening. Wow, he could definitely get used to her looking at him with this much interest.
“Like I said, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art. I’m actually Canadian, but I finished my masters degree in Boston and went straight into working at the MFA, but after working on a brief project in Calgary, I realised I wanted to work more in my specialist interests, y’know? So I applied for a role at the Museum of Art here, and became the associate curator of European Art. It’s…it’s everything I could’ve wished for, when I was studying,”
Dougie took a sip of his coffee while Ashley processed that flood of information, hoping he hadn’t come across too strong. People really did tend to zone out when he talked about his work…but hopefully because she also had an interest in European history and art, she wouldn’t be put off?
“I can definitely relate to following and achieving my passions for a niche subject,” Ashley grinned, “and I love that you love it so much. It’s rare, to find someone who gets such genuine joy out of their work. Even though work can sometimes be super stressful,”
“Stressful, but worth it. Especially when a new exhibition comes together so well,” Dougie agreed.
“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dougie licked his bottom lip, trying not to look too nervous. This exhibition is such a big deal, and it had been such a lot of work. He could get a little excited about it now, right?
“Yeah, I’ve been working solidly for the past few months on the new exhibition – it’s opening next weekend. It’s a collection of Italian Renaissance Art,” Dougie said, a little hesitant.
Hesitant…because maybe that was a bit flashy? Did it sound like he was bragging? He really hoped not – not just because he was so proud of his work but he genuinely did want to excite Ashley…
“Oh no way! Really?” Ashley gasped.
Dougie bit his lips to control his grin. Oh thank fuck. Finally, someone he could actually impress with his love of art history. “Yeah, last quarter the museum acquired over 30 paintings from the 14th century from various collectors and this will be the first time they’ve all been together in the same room,”
“I bet they’ll be so beautiful all together after so long,” Ashley said, her voice a little wistful.
Wistful? He could fix that. Maybe. Yes, this was the perfect opportunity…
“Maybe we could…I know this might feel a little soon, but I’m…
Dougie trailed off with a frustrated groan, making Ashley giggle. For once, just once, let him be smooth! He took a deep breath, before trying again.
“Would you like to come to the exhibition opening with me?” he asked softly.
Ashley’s jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly nodded, making Dougie’s heartbeat kick up a notch. “Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ve got a plus one as the associate curator, and there’s no-one else I could imagine going with. I think you’d love it,” Dougie explained, “and I’d love to show you the artwork,”
Was that too desperate?
“I’d…wow, I’d love to go with you,” Ashley said, her expression shy but pleased.
Shy but pleased. He could work with that.
“Great, it’s a date!”
Oh God. Dougie could only freeze…but then Ashley smiled. Huh, maybe not so cringey?
“A date huh? I’d love that too,” Ashley said shyly.
Oh thank fuck. Ashley just giggled at Dougie’s blush.
“Give me your number and I’ll text you the details?” Dougie suggested, trying to salvage at least a little bit of his dignity.
As Ashley took his phone from him and entered her phone number, Dougie could only sit in shocked silence. He’d done it. He’d actually asked her on a date. On a date where he could impress her with a topic they both loved so much. All he had to do now was not fuck it up.
That wouldn’t be so hard, right?
*
Ashley had been in a little bit of a daze when Dougie had left for work. He’d asked her on a date. On a date! And they’d exchanged numbers, Dougie having sent her a little smiley face so she had his number in return. She was just thankful that there wasn’t much work for her to do that day – there was no way she wouldn’t been able to focus otherwise.
And then throughout the week, they’d started exchanging cute little messages. Just sweet little things, like how was your day? and look how cute this dog is and I had the loudest school tour group come through the museum today and which of these texts is going to give me the worst teacher rating? – it was all silly and sweet and fun, and Ashley couldn’t remember the last time that the potential of a relationship had excited her so much.
There was just something about Dougie that made her heart beat a little faster every time she thought of him. It was bad enough when he would smile at her in passing in Storm Surge…but now, with every little text, she felt herself smiling even more than she could’ve imagined, like a giddy little schoolgirl with a first crush.
Because at the moment, it really was just a crush. They hadn’t gone out on their first date yet – in reality, they’d only sat together twice, with one of those times essentially being the exchange of their names. They’d only had one conversation in person. And the texts were so sweet and lovely…but they were just texts. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself and get her hopes up, you know? God knows that had happened enough times.
She couldn’t help but hope that finally, she had met someone with real potential. Dougie made it easy to hope.
Ashley supposed that their first date would be the real test of whether she’d just built up all the excitement of Tall Cute Guy in that coffee shop fantasy in her head, or whether he was the real deal. Their conversation in person on Sunday had been such a good start, but fuck please make him the real deal.
Was it really that much to ask?
Finally Friday rolled around and she was finished with work for the week. Well, mostly. Ashley had just come out of a bi-monthly faculty meeting and just had to check some emails before she could go home for the weekend (and to shave her legs because she found the cutest dress for her date on Saturday) – but as she got to her office, she noticed that Rod had stopped in the doorway, waving to some of their colleagues as they strolled past. Hmm.
“So…you’re looking incredibly chipper for someone who just got out of a tedious faculty meeting,” Rod teased, leaning against her doorframe.
Ashley just laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she sat at her desk. “I don’t know why you complain so much – you’re the one who runs them,”
“Not through choice, I promise that,” Rod mused, shaking his head, “But you are looking extra cheerful today. Just feeling a little nosy, I guess,”
Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Should she tell him about her date? It’s not like Rod was a gossip…and it’s not like she had a whole host of friends to tell…
“I may or may not have a date tomorrow night,” Ashley eventually admitted.
His eyes immediately lit up. Oh God.
“Ooh a date, exciting!” Rod gasped dramatically, fanning himself like a southern belle.
“Oh my god, shut up,” Ashley giggled. That could’ve gone worse – but his excitement definitely lit up the butterflies in her stomach all over again.
Rod just laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just glad you’re giving someone a chance to sweep you off your feet,” he teased, “Who is he and where is he taking you?”
“He’s a guy I met in that coffee shop I go to on a Sunday, and he’s taking me to the new Italian Renaissance exhibition at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” she explained.
And she couldn’t wait.
“A cultured guy or a try hard?” he smirked.
“A cultured guy,” Ashley giggled, rolling her eyes, “he’s actually the associate curator who worked on setting up the exhibition,”
“Don’t we all love a man who knows his history, even if it is art,” Rod grinned, winking dramatically, earning another giggle, “Let me know how the exhibition is - I know my wife would love to go if it’s any good,”
“I’ll give you a full review on Monday,” Ashley agreed, nodding.
“And a full review of your date,” Rod grinned.
“Okay, out, out. I need to finish these emails before I leave,” Ashley laughed.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Rod mused, “If you need anything, even an escape clause tomorrow night, send me a text, okay?”
Her heart softened a little at his kind gesture, and she found herself nodding. “I don’t think it’ll come to that, but thank you, I appreciate it,”
“Any time,” Rod nodded.
Ashley bit her bottom lip to hide her grin as he shut the door behind him on the way out, and the butterflies in her stomach were still there. Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough.
*
Tonight was the night. Ashley only had a few minutes left before her uber arrived to pick her up to take her to the museum, and she couldn’t resist having a final glance in the mirror by her front door. She’d had a little panic over what the hell the dress code would be for a gallery opening, but after Dougie confirmed it wasn’t black tie, just formal dress, Ashley had consulted with some of her college friends (who were buzzing about the fact that she was actually going on a date), and decided that a midi cocktail dress was the way to go.
And she’d found the perfect one.
The dress she’d picked out in a local boutique was a beautiful forest green colour, complimenting her dark hair and hazel eyes perfectly. It fell to the middle of her shins, as her friends had recommended, and had thick shoulders straps, no sleeves but a neckline with a deep enough v that it should a little cleavage (classy cleavage of course, very sophisticated in her opinion). Her favourite part though was the Marilyn Monroe-esque twirl to the skirt – something she’d tested out several times already – and she just felt glamorous in it. She’d straightened her usually-messy hair and put on a little make-up too, to match the effort she was making with the dress. To be honest, Ashley felt beautiful, and she honestly couldn’t wait to see Dougie’s reaction. It was a hell of a lot different to her usual Sunday Storm Surge outfits, that’s for sure.
Soon enough, her uber was pulling up outside of the Museum of Art, and she thanked the driver as she got out. Thankfully, Dougie was already waiting at the top of the steps for her, and the smile that he sent her way made her breath catch in her throat. Ashley took the time to check him out as she walked up towards him, and she felt those butterflies start up again. He was wearing a gorgeous navy blue suit with a white shirt and grey tie, bringing out the colour of his eyes beautifully, and the stunned expression on his face as he looked at her made her blush a little. That was a good reaction, right?
“Wow. You look…amazing,” Dougie murmured, looking her up and down with awe.
Definitely a good reaction.
“You look really good too,” she grinned.
Dougie grinned back at her, before offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
Ashley fought not to squeal as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. What a smooth move. “Lead the way,”
Dougie walked her inside, picking up a glass of champagne each after they dropped their jackets off. Then they were off. The two of them wandered around through the exhibition, Dougie guiding her and giving her the most indepth information she could’ve possibly hoped for. She’d never had such a personal tour like this, and he was so shy yet so knowledgeable that she couldn’t help but to drink up every word. This was what she had hoped for out of tonight, that passion coming through Dougie, and she was receiving it tenfold.
“This one is one of my favourites. Batoni’s The Triumph of Venice. There’s just so much going on, and I swear I notice something different every time I look at it,”
Ashley looked at the painting, taking in the many figures, the details, the colours, and couldn’t help but smile. It truly was a masterpiece.
“Oil on canvas? Maybe…early 1700s?” she guessed.
“Fuck that’s hot,” Dougie breathed.
He immediately flushed bright red, making Ashley giggle. Good to know that her vague art history knowledge was paying off. And that she could make him react like that…
“I love all the finessed detail in this one. Especially on the carriage – it’s exquisite,” Ashley murmured, looking back at it.
“Isn’t it?” Dougie grinned.
Ashley squeezed his arm gently, smiling up at him, earning a happy smile back. He was so clearly in his element, and she was loving every second. The way his entire face lit up when he talked about art…there was something just so beautiful in that. Those beautiful blue eyes were even more alive than ever, that spark of passion adding such a gorgeous element, and she really wanted to see more of it. That was a good sign, right? That she was already imagining more.
They moved on to the next painting, and Ashley’s breath caught in her throat. Wow.
“And this…this is the star of the collection. Giotto’s Peruzzi Altarpiece, the only complete altarpiece by the artist outside of Italy,”
Her jaw dropped a little. That was a big deal. “The only one?”
“The only one,” Dougie nodded.
“Holy shit,” Ashley mumbled, eyes wide.
Dougie grinned at her. “My sentiments exactly,”
“All of that gold. So much gold. And the details in their faces. Holy shit,” Ashley murmured.
“One of my favourite frescos, and I get to see it every day,” Dougie sighed happily.
“Well count me as jealous,” Ashley teased, nudging him with her shoulder.
Dougie just smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was just so cute.
“Would you, um…would you like a new drink?”
“Sure, another couldn’t hurt,” she nodded.
It’s not like she drank champagne that often after all. And it was a special occasion…
They stayed in the museum for another hour, looking over some of the art again as well as mingling with Dougie’s colleagues (including a mostly silent guy Dougie introduced as ‘Foegs’, who gave Dougie a double thumbs up when he thought she wasn’t looking, and a very enthusiastic big blonde man named Jordie, who she learned was Dougie’s boss – which, wow). Their conversation just flowed, and the doubts that she’d had earlier were easily shoved to the back of her mind.
She’d never thought it would feel so natural spending the evening arm-in-arm with a guy, but Dougie had just blown her away.
All too soon, it was time to leave the museum though, and while Dougie got their jackets, Ashley opened her phone to request an uber. 5 minutes away. Perfect.
“I had a really great time tonight,” Dougie murmured, when they were waiting outside.
His own uber was only a couple of minutes behind hers.
“Me too,” Ashley admitted, smiling up at him, “Thank you for inviting me,”
“There’s no-one else I would’ve wanted to take. I just glad you enjoyed it,” Dougie smiled back.
“I enjoyed spending time with you. The exhibition was just a bonus,” she said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.
Holy shit she just flirted. Blatantly flirted. Too much?
But then Dougie blushed a little, before a small smirk spread across his lips. “Yeah?”
Ashley just bit her lip, nodding. Dougie’s blue eyes flashed a little darker, sending a hot jolt running through her body. Oh wow. Just like that huh. But then her phone buzzed, the uber car pulling up to the curb, breaking her out of her thoughts just before they started to spiral.
Calm down Ashley, it’s only the first date!
She waved at the uber driver to signal that she’d seen him before turning back to Dougie. “See you tomorrow?” Ashley asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I’ll be starting work a little later on the one off, as it was the exhibition opening tonight,” Dougie nodded, “I’ll be there,”
Ashley grinned at him, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, laughing softly as his jaw dropped.
“Bye, Dougie,” she said softly, walking over to the car.
“Bye,” she heard him murmur, just as she closed the door.
“Hot date?” the uber driver teased.
“The hottest,” she grinned back.
That earned her a laugh, and she couldn’t help but smile as the driver pulled away from the curb. Ashley glanced out of the window, only to see that Dougie hadn’t moved at all – other than his fingers brushing over where she’d kissed his cheek, a hopeless smile on his face.
What a first date indeed.
*
To: Ashley
From: Rod
So how did the date go?
~
To: Rod
From: Ashley
The exhibition was incredible. You need to take your wife, for real.
~
To: Ashley
From: Rod
I actually meant the guy but sure…
~
To: Rod
From: Ashley
He was a perfect gentleman and…amazing.
You’ll get your full gossip on Monday.
~
To: Ashley
From: Rod
Boo fine.
I’m glad you had a good time though!
See you on Monday
*
“I had a really great time tonight,”
“Me too,”
“I had a really great time tonight,”
“Me too,”
“I had a really great time tonight,”
“Me too,”
Wasn’t the saying that if things seemed too good to be true, then they probably were not?
Ashley had gone to bed feeling over the moon, elated, bubbling with excitement. But when she’d woken up, it was like a dark cloud had settled over her, a heavy rock of anxiety sitting on her chest. Everything had gone so well last night. So well. Too well? This wasn’t the first time that she’d gotten her hopes up only to have things fall apart around her – and her hopes had skyrocketed last night. All she felt was like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it made her feel sick.
That niggling negativity had swum around her brain over and over again, and she hadn’t been able to shut it off – not when she showered, not when she got dressed, and not when she sat on the sofa debating whether or not to actually turn up at the coffee shop.
Was this really what things had come down to? Tempted to break her solid routine, the exact routine she’d had every week, just because a guy made her nervous? Was he really that important? Was she really that much of a coward?
She sat on the sofa so long that she passed the time she would normally leave. Hell, she passed the time she would normally be sitting down at her usual table. Oh god she couldn’t take this. It was too much. Her legs bounced nervously as she pulled up the message thread she had with him, typing out a message to cancel…
…and then she deleted it.
Fuck that shit. No matter how anxious this whole dating thing made her feel, nothing was worth this. She couldn’t just not show up, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t her. Fuck this. As quickly as she could, Ashley grabbed her laptop and her handbag, driving as fast as she could to Storm Surge.
When she parked her car, she noticed that she had a few texts from Dougie. Oh god.
~
To: Ashley
From: Dougie
Hey, I’m coming a little earlier than usual today!
~
To: Ashley
From: Dougie
Are you running late?
~
To: Ashley
From: Dougie
Are you coming?
~
Oh god. Ashley winced, practically running to the shop, immediately spotting Dougie at her usual table in the back. The sheer relief on his face made her wince again. Fuck. His expression dimmed at little, but she quickly ordered her usual latte from Andrei, who looked an interesting mix of confused and concerned, but she headed over to Dougie without hesitating.
“Hey, um, sorry I’m late,” she murmured, setting her coffee and her laptop down on the table.
Dougie frowned at her briefly, clearly taking in whatever the hell her face was showing.
“Is everything okay?” he asked softly.
Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Might as well tell him the truth, right?
“I, uh, I was second-guessing everything?”
“Second-guessing?” Dougie asked, frowning harder.
Ashley just sighed. “Yeah, um, it’s dumb. I just…it all seems too good to be true? I woke up feeling like I’d gotten my hopes up and…fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel stupid now,”
Looking up at Dougie’s sad face immediately made her regret telling the truth, but it was too late now. Fuck. Why did she have to ruin everything? The fact that he was staying silent just made everything worse. Should she just go?
“What do you want to do now then?” Dougie eventually asked “or do you not know?”
Ashley swallowed heavily, looking down at her hands briefly. Hah. The million dollar question. “I know that I like you?” she offered.
Dougie huffed a laugh. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to get mad if you don’t want to go on another date,” Dougie said with a sad smile.
Oh god that was worse. He should never sound that disheartened – it wasn’t right. And it was all her fault.
“Would you even want to go on a date with me again when I’m this much of an anxious mess?” Ashley sighed.
After last night, this really wasn’t where she’d seen her day going. Self-sabotage was a bitch. But it was her own damn fault. It always was. But then Dougie reached his hand forward, fingers brushing over hers lightly to get her attention, making her blush as he smiled a bit more genuinely.
“Yeah, I would like to,” he nodded, “I had a really great time yesterday night, and I still want more,”
Oh, so maybe she hadn’t ruined everything then. What? Well shit, she was grabbing this second chance with both hands.
“I had a great time too,” Ashley admitted, blushing a little bit more, “even with this stupid anxiety,”
“Good. That’s…that’s really good,” Dougie laughed, “well, not the anxiety part, but I’m going to prove to you that this isn’t just getting your hopes up,”
“I’d like that,” she murmured.
Dougie smiled at her, a truly genuine happiness, making her breath catch in her throat. Fuck she didn’t deserve this. But there was no way she was going to let herself ruin this, not now.
“Maybe we could just talk for a couple of hours before I have to go into work? Have some coffee, a couple of those delicious blueberry-lemon scones, and just see where things go?” Dougie suggested.
Ashley nodded, the tight ball in her chest immediately loosening. God, he was such a nice guy. “I’d definitely like to get to know you more,” she agreed.
“Scones are on me then,” Dougie grinned.
Hope. A second chance. Bring it on.
*
When Dougie eventually walked into work, his shared office had more people in it that he cared for. Well, okay, that was a little mean. But right now was not the best time for the combination of Jordie and Foegs as well as Sebastian and Teuvo, especially not when all four of them had met Ashley last night. Not when they were all so intense. Not while things were still so tentative.
“So, how did it go?” Jordie asked excitedly, “it looked like the two of you were having fun!”
And here we go.
“Well last night, at the exhibition, went really well, but…”
Jordie and Foegs frowned as he trailed off, Sebastian and Teuvo just looked confused. Dougie sighed and sat down heavily at his desk.
“She was really hesitant this morning. Like, so full of anxiety that she almost didn’t show up for coffee,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly.
“What do you mean?” Jordie asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.
“She thinks it’s too good to be true?” Dougie winced.
Foegs looked a little stunned, Jordie’s jaw dropping. But then Sebastian jumped to his feet from where he was sitting on Jordie’s desk.
“Well then you’ll just have to sweep her off her feet!” Sebastian said firmly.
Really? Dougie sent him an unimpressed look, but Sebastian’s pout stayed serious as Teuvo giggled.
“As much as I hate to say it, Sepe has a point,” Foegs shrugged, making Sebastian stick out his tongue at him, “the two of you looked like you’d really hit it off when we were all talking, and the fact that Ashley did meet you this morning means a little anxiety shouldn’t stand in the way,”
“Take her on another date. Wine and dine, man. It’s a classic for a reason,” Jordie added, nodding seriously.
Well shit, if Jordie was being serious then maybe it would work.
“Thanks guys,” Dougie murmured, smiling softly.
“Anything to land you the woman of your many dreams,” Jordie beamed.
Dougie just blushed. Sebastian wriggled his eyebrows, Teuvo just punching him on the arm. It was almost a nice moment.
He waited until Foegs, Sebastian and Teuvo had left to start working before he pulled his phone out, biting his bottom lip as he thought of what to say.
~
To: Ashley
From: Dougie
Hey, I’m glad I saw you today.
I hope you’re still doing okay.
How do you feel about getting dinner with me?
~
Dougie jiggled his leg nervously as he logged into his computer, waiting with baited breath for any reply.
And then eventually, his phone buzzed. Ashley. Thank god.
~
To: Dougie
From: Ashley
I’m alright thanks. That scone definitely helped ;)
I would love to get dinner with you.
~
Dougie couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Good. This was good. They exchanged a few more messages, eventually figuring out that because of his next few late nights with the exhibition and her essays she had to mark, neither of them were really free until next Saturday. A whole week away again. Fuck. No, this was going to work. Dougie knew it was worth it – and if she needed him to text a lot over the next few days to remind her that he was all in, that he wasn’t just going to disappoint her like those other guys, then he absolutely would.
Wine and dine next Saturday. He could absolutely do this.
“Hey, what was the name of that place you took your wife out for date night a couple of weeks back?” Dougie asked, looking up at his boss.
Jordie’s face lit up. “Oh man, it was so good…”
*
As Dougie promised himself, they kept texting throughout the week. He told her fun stories from visitors to the exhibition. She told him silly comments her students made that she couldn’t respond to without laughing in class. He told her all about his time in Boston. She told him all about her time in New York. He sent her a picture of the cutest trio of dogs his neighbours adopted. She sent him a picture of a sunset that took her breath away. Things were…good. He was just glad that Ashley seemed as enthusiastic as she was before their first date.
All he could hope was that he was proving to her that he was different. That he was serious about giving their budding relationship a shot. He hadn’t bonded with someone as quickly as this, as deeply as this, ever – so he wanted to see where it went. The unknown with Ashley genuinely excited him, and he wanted her to feel the same excitement.
He could only try to be good enough to deserve her.
By the time Saturday rolled around, Dougie was a nervous wreck. He’d left work exactly on time for once, Jordie giving him a thump on the shoulder and Foegs a thumbs up (he mostly ignored Sebastian and Teuvo’s shimmies), racing home to change into a nice sweater and his favourite pair of smart jeans. Casual but like he cared about making an impression. That was what he was aiming for.
And then Ashley arrived 10 minutes early, just after he’d arrived himself, looking nervous but happy in the prettiest baby blue tea-dress he’d ever seen, with her hair curled and wearing a pretty pink lipstick. Wow.
“You look beautiful,” he blurted.
Oh god. Mr Smooth, again.
Ashley just blushed, smiling up at him. “Thank you. I love your sweater,”
Dougie blushed in return. What a pair they made.
“After you,” he said, opening the restaurant door for her.
As much as her anxiety had worried him, he was so glad he didn’t give up – she was absolutely worth it. They were lead to their table, Dougie being a bit extra and pulling out Ashley’s chair for her, but the giggle he got in return was what he was aiming for. Wine and dine. Sweep her off her feet. That’s all that he wanted to do, and if it was working then he wasn’t going to stop now.
“I was thinking we could split a bottle of wine tonight, if you want?” Dougie offered.
“Yeah that sounds good to me,” Ashley nodded, “Maybe a white wine?”
That was more than okay with him. Red wine made him a little…over the top? He definitely talked too much when he had red wine, he knew that much, and he wanted to save at least a little dignity tonight. Hopefully, at least.
The wine was ordered, and by the time they each had a cold glass of sauvignon blanc, Ashley looked as relaxed as Dougie felt. He could only hope the rest of this night turned out the same way.
“So did I tell you what one of Rod’s students said to him yesterday?”
Dougie grinned, shaking his head. “No you didn’t!”
Ashley grinned back. “Well…”
They talked for hours, sharing stories about their jobs, their interests, their families, not stopping when any of their three courses came, not hesitating even once. Nothing was awkward in the slightest – their conversation just flowed like they’d known each other for years, and Dougie���s heart was just so happy. This was everything he’d wanted for so long, someone he could truly been 100% himself with, and he couldn’t believe that she seemed as into him as he was into her.
How was this possible, after only two dates?
Time flew by so fast, too fast, and they did eventually have to leave their table, even as much as Dougie didn’t want the night to end. He just felt utterly consumed by her, completely and utterly lost in her very being, and he didn’t want this feeling to stop for anything.
It probably didn’t help that they’d split three bottles of wine though.
It wasn’t enough to make either of them sloppy drunk, not with the delicious food they’d eaten, but Ashley was definitely a bit more giggly than usual, and he was definitely smiling like an idiot.
“I wish your uber wasn’t on its way,” Dougie sighed, when they were outside.
“I’m actually not a far walk from here, so I was just going to walk home?”
At this time of night? Absolutely not! Ashley saw the look of indignation of his face and burst into laughter, making him blush (again). What? He wasn’t wrong for being worried about her getting home safely.
“You could always walk me home?” she suggested.
Oh. Oh. Oh yeah okay, he could do that.
“Yeah, definitely,” Dougie nodded quickly.
Dougie’s heart started beating a little faster as she looped her arm through his, and it was all he could do not to smile at her too helplessly. How did she manage to affect him like this? He’d never fallen so head over heels so quickly. And she seemed completely oblivious to how gone he was for her – in the most innocent of ways.
They walked slowly, leaning on each perhaps a little more than they would without the wine, but it just meant that they had more time for talking. Dougie was blissfully happy to let Ashley rant about the indignity of the black myth surrounding Eleanor of Aquitaine, taking in everything that she was trying to teach him. He loved how much she loved her medieval history, just like he loved his art. It was quirky and different and so unique to her. And honestly, he could picture them doing this together for years, discussing their passions and their love for their careers and…
“Okay this is me,” Ashley announced, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Dougie looked up at the old two-storey home with a smile. So this was her home. Pretty.
“That wasn’t so bad a walk,” Dougie grinned.
“I feel bad now though, making you get further away for your own journey,” Ashley frowned.
But Dougie shook his head. “It’s fine really. I’m sure there are plenty of ubers still running around here,”
“Well…”
Ashley trailed off, biting her lip, making Dougie smile. What was on her mind?
“You can stay, if you want?” Ashley said, a shy smile on her face.
Oh fuck. Stay? Ashley saw the shock on his face, before she blushed furiously, quickly shaking her head.
“I have a spare bedroom! I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.
Dougie couldn’t help but laugh, tugging her hands away gently. Not that he was opposed to…sharing a bed with her, but that wasn’t the vibe of tonight. Tonight was for building them up, getting them to a more comfortable level. And fuck did it feel good tonight.
Waking up to see her first thing in the morning would only be icing on the cake.
“I would love to stay, as long as you don’t mind,” he said softly, brushing his hand against hers.
Ashley inhaled sharply but nodded, wordlessly reaching in her handbag for her keys. They stayed silent as they walked into the house, Dougie barely moving a foot away from her as she showed him the kitchen, the bathroom and then the spare bedroom. He could do a proper tour in the morning, he knew that. He was just a little stunned that he was even still with her, to be honest.
“So here’s some basketball shorts that my cousin left last time he visited. I don’t have a shirt big enough for you though,” she apologised, handing him a soft bundle.
Dougie just shook his head, smiling. “This is more than enough. I usually sleep shirtless anyway,”
Ashley’s lips parted a little in surprise, her eyes glazing over slightly, making Dougie grin as she shook her head as if to clear it. Good to know he had that effect on her.
“There are spare toothbrushes under the sink from when I last when to the dentist’s office, so help yourself to whatever one?” she offered.
Dougie just nodded, squeezing her hand as he walked into the bathroom. He willed himself to retain at least a little bit of chill as he got changed, quickly washing his face and cleaning his teeth with one of the toothbrushes she’d offered. This was all still a little bit surreal, being honest. But he was going to seize this with both hands – this was a chance he was never going to get again if he fucked up.
Ashley couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him as they swapped places in the bathroom, and Dougie tried not to grin as he flexed his abs a little, making her blush. He could have a little fun, right? Especially since he knew the boundaries he needed to stay behind, he wasn’t dumb.
By the time he’d put his phone on charge and folded his clothes onto a chair for tomorrow, and then headed back out into the corridor, Ashley was back, dressed in a cute little pair of shorts and a giant t-shirt. Oh wow, he could definitely imagine her wearing his t-shirt to bed one day. No, not the time!
“Hey,”
Ashley’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but smile down at her.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“See you in the morning?” she said hopefully.
Like fuck he was going to leave. “Bright and early,” he nodded.
But when she didn’t go anywhere, her hand moving to rest on his bare arm, Dougie couldn’t stop himself from stepping towards her. Fuck. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t push him away, and that was all he needed.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked lowly.
Ashley’s lips parted in a soft gasp, but she nodded. “Yeah, please,”
Dougie raised a hand to cup her face, giving her one last out, but as she raised up on her tiptoes he didn’t hesitate any further. He leant his head down, and pressed his lips to hers softly, barely able to stop the moan that wanted to tear from his throat. Holy shit. Ashley clutched at his biceps, leaning up into the kiss even more, making Dougie’s head spin as he kissed her softly, slowly, over and over again. This was so not what he expected from tonight, or even hoped for, but fuck did it fill his body with butterflies. Holy shit, kissing her was everything. Eventually, he brushed his tongue against hers gently, before pulling away, knowing there was a stupid smile on his face.
“Wow,” he breathed.
“Wow,” she nodded, laughing softly, “That’s one hell of a goodnight,”
Dougie laughed softly too, pecking her lips in a soft kiss one last time before stepping away. She leaned against the wall, looking a little stunned, making him grin as he walked into her spare bedroom. If he didn’t walk away, he knew he would do something stupid to break them out of this perfect little sweet bubble, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not tonight.
Tonight had been perfect.
*
Ashley woke up slowly, a little groggy, feeling like she was forgetting something. Then she heard the bathroom door opening, and everything came flooding back to her. Dougie was here. He’d stayed over after their date last night. They’d kissed. Holy shit. Holy shit. She took a deep breath to calm herself, fingers rising to her lips without a second thought, and it was all she could do to smile.
Dougie had kissed her. And it was everything.
She squealed softly into her pillow, feeling stupidly giddy, before quickly picking out a cute jumper and her comfiest skinny jeans to wear. She could hear him moving in the spare bedroom, so she quickly darted into the bathroom, washing and then brushing her teeth, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face at the sight of the toothbrush that Dougie used resting in the holder. There was just something about it that felt right.
She took a deep breath, running her hands down her sweater to smooth it, before she headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for Dougie to join her, and he accepted the glass of juice that she passed him with a smile.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Good morning,” she said softly back.
Dougie seemed to hesitate slightly, before his face became determined. She didn’t have time to ask him what was wrong before he leant down and pressed his lips to hers in a firm kiss. Ashley whimpered softly into his mouth, earning a soft noise back, and it was all she could do to clutch at his sweater. Holy shit. This was just as incredible and sweet as she remembered from last night. Wow. Dougie cupped her face with his free hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he slowed the kiss down to a few gentle pecks, before he pulled away with a smile. Ashley just smiled back up at him, a little overwhelmed in the best way. Wow.
“Coffee shop?” he said.
“Yeah, if that’s alright,” she nodded.
He understood her routines. And he didn’t care that she wanted to stick to them. How could she not appreciate that?
Dougie just nodded in response, smiling as he sat down at her kitchen table, taking a sip of the juice she’d given him. “I wouldn’t mind changing out of last night’s clothes though. Not really my vibe,” he teased.
Ashley giggled, understanding perfectly. It wasn’t her vibe either.
“I could drive you over to yours, to get a change of clothes, and then we could head to Storm Surge together?” she suggested.
“Yeah? You want to walk in together like that?” Dougie asked, a little hopeful.
Holy shit, that would be one hell of a declaration. But…
“Yeah, I want that,” she nodded.
The grin that spread across Dougie’s face made the butterflies in her stomach worth it.
“Let me just put on some mascara and lipstick, and we can go?”
“Sure, whatever you want,” Dougie smiled.
Now that was a dangerous thought.
All too soon, Ashley was parked down the street from the coffee shop. She took a deep breath, Dougie sending her an encouraging smile, before she steeled herself and got out of the car. This was nervewracking. Storm Surge was her home away from home, her safe space, her comfort, and now she was completely changing the status quo. But as Dougie walked to her side, smiling down at her with such hope in his eyes, she knew it was worth it. He was worth it.
“Ready?” Dougie asked, holding out his hand.
Holy shit. Bring it on.
Ashley smiled up at him, taking his hand in hers, embracing the butterflies that came with the warmth of his grasp. They walked to the coffee shop together, Dougie squeezing her hand gently as she opened the door and walked through.
“Ashley! And…Dougie?”
Andrei’s gasp made her blush, Dougie just laughing. Then Andrei’s face broke into a huge grin, and he spun around.
“Marty! It’s happened! It’s finally happened!” Andrei yelled into the back of the shop.
What the hell?
A door slammed open in the back, and then Marty came barrelling out. He took one look at them holding hands before punching his fist in the air.
“LET’S GOOOO!”
Ashley flinched at Marty’s loud voice, but couldn’t help but giggle when he bounded over to Andrei, swinging an arm over his shoulders.
“Finally! Do you know how long we’ve been rooting for you two?” Marty beamed.
Oh god. Ashley blushed furiously, as did Dougie, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Was I that obvious?” Ashley asked shyly.
“Both of you were. It was so frustrating but so sweet,” Marty shrugged, Andrei nodding enthusiastically in agreement. “We just hoped you guys would take a chance,”
Take a chance. Hah. That’s definitely a good way to describe it. And he was so worth taking a chance on. Dougie smiled fondly down at her, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
“Well I’d say our second date went pretty well,” Dougie said softly, squeezing her hand.
Ashley smiled back, nudging him with her shoulder, earning coos from Marty and Andrei.
“Okay, you two are giving me cavities,” Marty said cheerfully, not even slightly annoyed, “Coffee and anything you want to eat, on the house. I need to tell Slavs – he’s going to be thrilled!”
Ashley just giggled, leaning into Dougie’s body as she looked over the cakes and pastries on display. Being with Dougie, this fledgling relationship, was scary – but it was also so exciting. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next. This was the start of something amazing, she just knew it.
#my writing#winter gift exchange#hockeynetwork#dougie hamilton#dougie hamilton fic#coffee shop au#yes i do have a medieval history masters how can you tell?#mildly self indulgent and super fluffy & cute#the research holes i fell down were unbelievable - and yes all the courses and all the job titles are all real things#dougie hamilton x oc#dougie hamilton imagine#dougie hamilton fanfiction#hockey writing#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction#nhl writing#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction
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Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.
Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.
Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.
Wordcount: 2075
The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.
Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in.
“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”
“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”
“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”
“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T’ in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”
“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.
____________
She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.
The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.
It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.
Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.
“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?
It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside?
She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.
“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”
“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!”
It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her.
“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.
“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”
Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”
“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”
“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”
“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.
Some things never changed no matter where you went.
____________
The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister.
dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you
dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say
Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’
dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still
Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.
“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”
“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”
“Well well well!”
Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one.
It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”
His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?”
“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”
“Er- yes!” He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.
“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”
“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.
“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”
The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”
Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”
“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”
“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.
“Little wrench! How dare you?”
“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.
“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”
“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”
“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”
Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”
He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss. ”
Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”
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chubby actor louis (pt 2)
What up SINNERS. So sorry I missed last week, I hope you still enjoy this lil baby that’s a coutinuation of my very questionable and self indulgent new series. I’m hoping to do at least two more installments a little later.
please note this fic deal with weight gain kink/fetish. it is heavy on food and weight talk. if any of that content bothers or triggers you, this will not be the story for you. also contains some sexual content!
very unedited bc words are fake anyways.
part 1 here
--
“Do I have to? This is the worst part.”
Louis was standing in the bathroom in just his briefs, Harry standing patiently next to him. And while he had taken his clothes off in front of Harry countless times, including when he started this whole thing, he somehow felt more naked now. He was acutely aware of his body, how his belly was doughy and swelled forward, how his legs had softened, and how his ass had grown, making his underwear tight. And he was just getting started.
“Come on, love, hop on,” Harry said gently, “I just wanna see where we’re starting, that’s all.”
One of the first things Harry had requested when he agreed to help Louis was that they were going to start weighing Louis every two days, rather than at the end of every week like Louis had been doing. He said it was important to keep track of this kind of thing so they could set goals for every day, and while Louis knew he had a point, he hated doing it in front of Harry. It was one thing to see the numbers rise on his own, but to do it in front of his boyfriend felt too personal and a little embarrassing. He wasn’t sure if Harry being into it made the situation better or worse.
Louis sighed and finally stepped onto the scale. He tried to relax his posture, letting his spine slouch a little and his arms swing loosely, like it would make a difference. The machine under his feet worked quickly, the display only blinking for a few seconds before it settled on one number.
“163,” Harry read out.
“Yes, I can read,” Louis said.
Harry laughed weakly, and out of the corner of his eye Louis saw him getting his phone out. He was opening his notes app, typing something in.
“So, by shooting time, you need to be at 178,” Harry said, “We can do that.”
Louis’s stomach fluttered a bit at “we,” the sign of Harry’s unquestioning presence on this weird project.
Harry had been around for plenty of Louis’s odd roles. He had helped Louis memorize a fake sci fi language for an outer space thriller, taken him to the air and space museum for hours while Louis took notes prepping to play an astronaut. and once had indulged Louis in a month of candlelit rooms and no Internet while he got ready for a drama set in Amish country. Harry had proved time and time again he was willing to help with whatever Louis’s very weird job required. But this felt different. Not least of all because Harry had never exactly been turned on by Louis’s role prep before.
“You can step off, baby,” Harry said gently.
Louis blinked, realizing he must have been there for away, and then stepped off the scale, watching it go back down to zero.
He stared at it for a long moment, and then felt Harry’s hand on his shoulder, giving him a squeeze.
“I can put lunch on,” Harry said, “Would that be okay? To eat something right now?”
Louis looked down at his stomach and put a cautious hand on it, squeezing the softness underneath his skin.
“I mean,” he said, “I guess we have to get there at some point.”
--
Louis really wished he had taken Harry up on his offer to cook for him earlier.
He was well aware Harry was an amazing cook – he made roasted vegetables and salmon three days a week taste incredible – but it was so different to see Harry cooking when he was not prohibited by a strict diet code.
New kitchen contraptions started appearing at their first door in express shipping packages – a breakfast maker, waffle makers, a panini press, an air fryer and then an actual deep fryer. Harry always told Louis to not worry about planning anything, he would take care of it, and Louis could just tell if he was craving anything. Louis was grateful for the relief – he had to memorize his lines by the end of the month and was already had enough to think about.
So he sat at the couch, or at his office upstairs, and Harry’s new creations kept arriving in front of him. Full English breakfasts with fried eggs and gravy-soaked sausages, mashed potatoes swimming in a small sea of butter, bacon and four-cheese grilled cheeses, mint chocolate chip milkshakes with chocolate and caramel syrup drizzled over a little hill of whipped cream. Harry presented each of them with a smile and a kiss to the top of Louis’s head or his cheek, and gave Louis the most brilliant grin when Louis brought down his empty dishes an hour later.
“Did you like it?” he asked, and would nod eagerly as Louis offered his thoughts.
Long lists of new recipes appeared on their fridge door, and Louis woke up a lot of days to see a slice of cheesecake wrapped in plastic in their fridge, or some waffle cut fries in tin foil, with a note on it telling him to eat it whenever he felt hungry.
And Louis did. It made him happy to eat Harry’s food, to see him smile, and also, it was just damn delicious.
By the end of his first week of Harry feeding him, he had gained another three pounds, something that made Harry grin and reward Louis with a plate of nachos, covered in melted cheddar and mozzarella, crumbled beef, and salsa.
“We still have awhile to go,” Louis said, squinting at Harry as he brought another cheese-soaked chip to his mouth, “Don’t be too proud of yourself.”
Harry sat across from him at the counter and he just smiled again, his eyes flicking between the plate in front of Louis and his mouth.
“I think we can manage,” Harry said, “I’ll provide the food, you just put in the effort.”
“I am putting in effort, you dick,” Louis huffed, picking up another chip. He took extra care to dare it through a pool of cheese at the edge of the plate, “You think I’m not?”
Harry shrugged, and Louis recognized the little glint behind his eyes. He was angling for Louis’s competitive side, and fuck if he wasn’t doing a good job of it.
Louis picked up two chips, once again trying to drag them in the toppings so he had as much as possible balanced on them before he shoved them into his mouth.
“Don’t choke,” Harry said mildly.
“Don’t be an ass and just get me some soda,” Louis huffed.
Harry smiled and went to their fridge, getting out a two-liter of Coke. Regular-ass, non-diet Coke. He didn’t even pour it into a glass. Louis just unscrewed the top and sipped.
“I’m going to finish this,” Louis said firmly, “Just so you know.”
“Okay,” Harry said, and his mouth twitched at the corner.
Louis put his head down and focused on putting chips and cheese into his mouth. It was greasy as hell, and salty, and he felt his head going a little fuzzy from the combination of all of it alongside the liquid sugar he had already sucked down.
He kept eating until his fingers were shiny and his slick felt slick with grease, and he reached down to move the elastic of his sweatpants under the curve of his belly, giving it more room.
“You okay?” Harry said, and Louis thought he detected interest in his voice.
“I’m great,” Louis answered, picking up the soda again. He hiccupped weakly as he swallowed it down.
“These are good,” Louis said as he picked up more food. The chips at the bottom were nearly soaked through in grease, and he eagerly shoved them into his mouth. “You should make these more often.”
“I will,” Harry said. Louis could hear his voice was getting a little thin at the edges.
Louis picked up two more chips, eating them at the same time.
“If you eat all of that I’ll eat you out for half an hour,” Harry blurted out.
Louis arched his brow and put another chip in his mouth.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, “My belly’s kind of full. I probably can’t lay down flat. You’re going to have to roll me onto my side.”
He rubbed his stomach as he said it, and he felt the grease on his fingers rub off on his shirt as he did.
Harry stared down and then back up, and he folded his arms and leaned forward.
“Louis,” Harry drawled, “Honey. You better eat those fucking nachos or I will lose my mind.”
Louis just smiled in return, and scooped up a chip entirely covered in cheese, taking his time biting into it.
He finished the nachos.
--
Louis understood that eventually it was going to happen. He knew the consequences of gaining what was now officially twenty-two pounds.
Still, after two weeks of Harry’s cooking, he was not exactly happy when he was trying to put on what used to be his affectionally named “fat jeans” and they couldn’t go over his ass.
He stood in their room, jumping feebly on his toes and tugging, but they wouldn’t go up. The denim hugged too tightly against his thighs, the skin of his legs bulging out just a bit, and the edge of the waistband kept cuffing his ass. It didn’t help his underwear were also a bit tight, and they kept wanting to move inward and get trapped between his cheeks.
“Harry!” he shouted, because what the hell else was he going to do.
Harry arrived in the doorway of their room a few minutes later, and he just stared, his mouth wide.
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah, yeah, oh my god,” Louis huffed, “I swear to god these just fit. But you had to go and put heavy cream in my coffee like a psychopath.”
“You liked it. A lot,” Harry said passively, “So. You want to go to the mall, get some new clothes?”
Louis looked up at him, his eyes wide and his hands still gripped on the useless flaps of his pants.
“You want me to go out in public right now?”
“We’ll go in the back way,” Harry shrugged, “And you can wear sunglasses. And a hat.”
“Oh, brilliant disguise ideas from my fashion designer boyfriend here.”
He ducked his head again and pulled on his jeans again, but it wasn’t doing anything. If anything the edge of the denim was chafing his ass.
“Can’t you just fix these for me? Isn’t letting things out part of your job?” Louis asked, gesturing to his jeans.
“I could,” Harry allowed, “But if you’re going to lose the weight later you’ll want your old clothes.”
“Fuck, you’re right,” Louis said. He yanked his pants off, kicking them hard to get the blasted things off his ankles. Then he huffed angrily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Shit, I just – I really don’t want to go out in public right now, that’s all.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry said, “No one is going to recognize you.”
“I’m insulted,” Louis said, “Do you know how famous I am? Do you know how many Teen’s Choice awards are in our spare room?”
“Yes, I know,” Harry chuckled, “But babe…you don’t exactly look like yourself right now.”
Louis frowned, and lifted his head. He shuffled forward to the big mirror on the inside of his closet door and looked up.
And fuck, Harry was right. He didn’t really look like himself. He hadn’t shaved in a while, for one, and his hair was a little longer. But his face was puffy, his cheekbones covered with round cheeks that pushed up, making his eyes look smaller. His thighs were wide and soft, only a little bit of his old muscles visible. When he turned he could see his ass had grown and widened, and while it used to be round and firm from his tireless squat routine, it was just…soft now. And he had a proper belly, not the tiny bit of bloating he used to get sometimes, but a proper one that puffed out and felt heavy on his core.
The man everyone was expecting when Louis went out in public wasn’t here now.
“You’re right,” he sighed, and put his hands on his hips. “Let’s go shopping.”
--
They went to a mall a little outside of the city limits, which was pretty empty for the time being.
Louis hadn’t been clothes shopping in a while, but luckily Harry was always out and about, picking up new things to cut up and sew back together, so he immediately picked some stores to go to.
They went to a men’s’ clothing shop, and Harry looked through the racks with great focus, picking up some jeans and shirts and slinging them over his arm.
“I’ll get you a few sizes,” Harry said, “Remember, you don’t want them too tight. You need a little room to grow.”
The expression coming from Harry’s mouth made Louis’s face burn, and he just followed his boyfriend wordlessly as he plucked up different garments.
They spent a little too long for Louis’s liking in the dressing room, but it went okay, all things considered. He got a few new pairs of jeans, several new t-shirts, a new flannel shirt and a new sweater. Harry encouraged through all of it, giving him kisses and telling him how well the clothes showed off his curves, but after awhile, Louis grew tired of wriggling in and out of new pants and asked if they could stop. Harry just nodded. whipped out his credit card, and told Louis he would pay for both the clothes and their lunch.
Of course, it went without saying that Harry was also going to pick the location, which was how they ended up in an All-American buffet.
Louis was sitting in a darker, more secluded corner of the dining area, in a sticky fake leather booth. The walls around him were painted with scenes of the wild west, cowboys and horses. He had a huge tumbler of orange soda in front of him, which he kept picking up and sipping at as he waited for Harry to return from picking out his meal. He was admittedly a little hungry, so he was kind of looking forward for whatever Harry was getting him.
What he did expect was Harry nearly skipping back to the table, two plates in his hands and two perfectly balanced on his forearms, all of them loaded down with food.
He set them all down in front of Louis with a smile, and Louis just stared at him, his mouth gaping.
“How – “ Louis sputtered, “How did you even carry all of that?”
“I was a waiter before you met me. You know this,” Harry said, “Now dig in, I’m going to get myself.”
He turned, then, heading back to the lines of food, and Louis took in what Harry had picked for him.
On one plate there was a large cheeseburger, loaded with with several slices of bacon, and a generous serving of crinkle-cut fries. On the next there were ribs soaking in barbeque sauce and a side of mac and cheese, the cheese nearly orange and the pasta covered in golden breadcrumbs. Then there was a big plate of cheesy scrambled eggs and two sausages, and then the last was loaded with three big cinnamon rolls dripping with white icing.
Louis was still staring at it all when Harry came back to the table, carrying a bowl of salad and another bowl full of salad for himself.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, then his face fell, “Shit, I’m sorry is that too much for you? I’m sorry. I just got excited.”
“No, it’s okay,” Louis said quietly, “Um. Is it okay if I don’t finish all of it? It’s just so much.”
“That’s fine,” Harry said quickly, “I just wanted to get you plenty. Take your time.”
“Okay,” Louis nodded, then smiled, “This really does look so good, thank you.”
Harry gave him another warm look, and that was enough for Louis to get started. He picked up some ribs, holding them delicately, and took some bites. The meat was tender and came apart easily, and the sauce was delicious, sweet and thick. He nodded happily and took more bites, feeling some sauce collect on his lips.
“You’re so cute when you eat,” Harry said across the table, and Louis blushed.
He polished off his ribs, the weight of the food hot and pleasant in his belly. He wiped off his mouth and fingers as best he could, and then picked up a fork and went for the mac and cheese. It was rich, creamy and salty and tasting like sharp cheddar. He ate it embarrassingly fast, the pasta quickly disappearing into his mouth.
“That’s so good,” he said, and picked up his soda to shallow it down. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he certainly wasn’t full. So he went for the eggs. It was a nice compliment to the mac and cheese, more cheese, more salt, a light, fluffy texture. He ate it in little bites, licking his lips at how salty it was.
“I’m gonna be so bloated after this,” Louis said as he picked up his soda and took a long drink. Harry didn’t say anything, but Louis did notice he had stopped picking up the fork for his salad, instead watching Louis.
The eggs were so good, soft on his tongue, and he felt himself going fuzzy from the salt and the weight in his stomach. Half the plate was still in front of him, and he was definitely getting full now, and he told Harry he didn’t have to finish all of it. He could throw up a white flag right now.
But the rest of the food looked so good, and Harry watching him intently. And…what was going to happen to him, really? He was going to get bigger? He needed to get bigger. It was fine.
So, with several more forkfuls lifted to his lips, he finished his eggs.
He set down the fork with a distinct little click, and Harry leaned forward.
“Hey, you did really good, thank you – “
But Louis was picking up his cheeseburger He took a big bite, keeping his eyes locked on Harry, who blinked at him.
“You – “ Harry swallowed, “I – “
Louis smirked as he as swallowed. His mouth tasted like salt and grease, and he went in for another bite. He moaned a little, and Harry didn’t move, didn’t even close his mouth.
He shouldn’t be doing this. His stomach was tight, and he could feel the elastic of his sweatpants pushing out, cutting in. Fuck, he was going to have to buy new sweatpants soon. His body wasn’t used to this, it was used to constant exercise and juice cleanses.
The mere thought of it made Louis eat another bite with more zeal, really tearing it and chewing hard. He didn’t realize how tired of that he was until now.
The burger was delicious, and he felt a wet bit of grease run down his chin. Jesus fuck, it was literally leaking with fat, and he was eating it happily.
He ate fast, so fast he couldn’t pay too much attention to his protesting stomach. He polished the burger off and didn’t even wipe his mouth as he picked at the fries, grabbing multiple at once.
“You know how in every fucking interview I do for movies, they ask me about my preparation?” Louis said to Harry, “Imagine this one. ‘Louis, you had to gain thirty pounds for this role. And we hear you didn’t even have that much time to do it. How did that happen?’ And I’ll get to say, ‘well, my boyfriend stuffed me every day for weeks at a time and got a boner doing it, so it was easy.’”
He shoved the fries in his mouth and was already picking up another handful and dunking it in ketchup as he chewed. He barely swallowed before he was eating more.
His stomach was aching now, and he groaned, pushing down the painful elastic on his pants, but it still felt tight around his hips.
“We – oof, we should go back for some new sweatpants, babe. Gonna fuckin’ bust these soon.”
He picked up more fries, and he was acutely aware of how Harry was staring him down, his food abandoned, his eyes dark.
Louis’s body was hot from head to toe, and he was sweating a little, but he couldn’t tell if that was from the effort his meal was taking out of him or from how Harry was looking at him.
But he felt something else shift as he polished off his fries and shoved the plate away, seeking out more of his soda.
He thought he was imagining it, but as he dragged the plate of cinnamon rolls closer to himself, the plate scraping loudly on the table, he knew he was right.
He was hard.
He was in a mall buffet and he was getting a hard on from stuffing his face.
He didn’t know how to handle that. So he picked up a cinnamon roll instead.
It was pure carbs, heavy, the icing sticky and all sugar, and it made his brain buzz and his eyes flutter closed. He shoved the pastry into his mouth hard, forcing himself to chew. His belly gave an unhappy little gurgle, but his cock was happy, and his boyfriend looked ready to pounce, so he kept chewing.
He finished one of the rolls with a pant, setting both hands on his stomach. He smeared grease and icing on the fabric of his hoodie, and he sighed. He rubbed his hands over his belly, round and hard, the fabric of his sweatshirt pulled tight over it. He pulled it up, over the hill of his stomach. His shirt had already ridden up, and there he was, his stomach hanging out in public, as he grabbed for another roll.
Harry was nearly foaming at the mouth, and Louis ate the cinnamon roll in small but eager bites. He felt icing smear on his mouth and he didn’t bother to fix it. He was sweating and blushing and his dick was hard in public and none of it mattered.
The roll was gone soon, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking off the icing. He slumped in the booth and then picked up the last roll, his white fucking whale. He tipped back his head and opened his mouth and shoved nearly half of it in. He focused hard on the taste of it. Fluffy bread, cinnamon, honey, pure sugar. His mouth was lazy as it chewed, as if even his tongue was sick of his ordeal, but he swallowed it down none the less. He had to keep shifting his hips, trying to keep his belly happy, but it was no use. It was pissed at him. But Louis had half a cinnamon roll left.
He shoved it in his mouth in one bite, his cheeks bulging as he chewed and chewed, squeezing his eyes tightly as his throat worked, trying to swallow it down.
Soon, it was done, and for his last stupid act, Louis reached for his soda, tipped the glass, and chugged until it was empty.
When it was done he slammed it on the table and panted, clutching his stomach and staring at Harry, who was already standing.
“Get me home right now and fuck me,” Louis said, his voice weak.
Harry nodded and reached down, guiding Louis up to his feet. He pulled his sweatshirt down and then stared at the obvious bulge in Louis’s pants, and then looked up with even wider eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, looks like you’re not the only one who’s into this,” Louis snapped, then wheezed again, setting a hand on his stomach, “Fuck, help me waddle the hell out of here, you bastard.”
Harry surged forward, kissing Louis hard, and then pulled back, wrapping a protective arm around him and helped Louis walk, slowly but surely, to the exit.
Somehow, as they got to the door, Louis found the energy to lean in and kiss under Harry’s ear, then whisper to him.
“Eight more pounds, baby.”
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Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 38)
Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.
Word Count: 3563
Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)
Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo
This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.
Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two of you rode in tense silence all the way to the BAU, where you grabbed your things and stormed to your car, waiting for Spencer to get in the driver’s seat. The two of you rode again in a silence wrapped in thickness. You got home and now your home was tainted with Cat Adams and Maxine.
“What the fuck?!” you screamed as you got inside, throwing your purse and briefcase in the corner of the foyer.
“It’s not what you think, Y/N. I didn’t cheat on you.”
“Just because you didn’t make out with her or stick your dick in her doesn’t mean you haven’t been fucking ignoring me for her.”
Spencer responded by pressing his lips into a thin line.
“So is it true? Did you take her to your favorite museums? Buy her books?”
“I let her borrow some of my books. And yes, on some of our outings, I took her to a museum, but don’t listen to Cat. You know this is what she wants.”
“Don’t blame your actions on Cat Adams, Spencer! You’re the one who was running through the park with Max in your arms. And she didn’t even know you were married?! Why wasn't I ever brought up?!”
“My therapist told me to keep it separate from work--”
“I’m not work!” you roared, nearly deafening you both. “I’m your fucking wife! You should’ve mentioned me! At least once! And clearly, you were doing something that made Maxine upset that you weren’t single.”
“She must’ve gotten mixed signals. I never did anything inappropriate with her, I promise.”
“You never let me meet her. You had her in our house and I had no idea what she even looked like. You know, at least as soon as you found out about Dexter and me, there was no secret in our relationship. But all I knew was you were ignoring me to spend every waking moment with another woman. How do you think it makes me feel, Spencer?”
In an even tone, but laced with anger, he responded, “It probably makes you feel the way I did when you were doing that with Dexter.”
You flinched away from him. “I only started ignoring you with Dexter when you told me about JJ,” you reminded. “Don’t confuse reality with fantasy to make yourself feel better. You really didn’t see the problem? Spencer, for the last month, you’ve done nothing but text her, spend time with her, and focus on her. And if you weren’t talking to her, you were smiling. It was like no matter what I did, I couldn’t put that look on your face. I never made you feel that way with Dexter.” You threw your hands out to the side. “So what did I do to deserve this? If you're having second thoughts because of what I did, then tell me! Don’t distance yourself from me and start to fall for another woman.”
His face whipped up to yours, conviction in them when he said, “I’m not falling for her. I’m still in love with you and only you. If this is just about kissing Cat--”
“Fuck the kiss!” you shouted. “I don’t give a shit about that! You should know me by now! I know why you did that. I’m not an idiot. I was over that before you were done kissing. What I’m upset about is you being devious and sneaking around after we promised never to do that again. So what is it? If you don’t love Maxine, why have you been so obsessed with her? Doing things we should've been doing?”
“I don’t know,” he started, shaking his head, shrugging.
“You nearly had an emotional affair with another woman who was just in our house. I need more than ‘I don’t know’.”
“You want to know why I talked to her so much? I just wanted a conversation with someone who wasn't fighting crime. I wanted one conversation that wasn't burying the lead on a case, or some BAU case, or even JJ... I just wanted a non-messy human interaction for once…”
You tried to keep the tears at bay. “All I saw was you falling for a woman who is the polar opposite of me. If you’d just been honest and told me why you enjoyed your time with her…”
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I knew how it sounded. I know how it sounds now. I did flirt with her, but that’s as far as it went. It was stupid of me not to tell Max about you, and I should’ve introduced you two. I guess I felt like you had… have Dexter, someone outside of work, and I wanted that too.”
The tears were already flowing now, there was no stopping it. “A friendship with someone outside of work is one thing, Spencer, what you did tonight and every day for the last month is very different.”
“How?”
“You seriously don’t see the problem? You gave her gifts, Spencer. You had her in our home, without me here. You lied about being married. You texted her nonstop. When I asked you to do something with me, you blew me off to go hang around her. I never did that with Dexter, never. You were either always included or I asked you first. You were always my priority. I never made you feel like second best, even when I was lying about what I was doing. And don’t even mention when I was being distant, we both know why I was doing that.”
He stayed silent, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“I didn’t cheat though. I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t talk about a future with her, I didn’t--”
Your rage had hit a ceiling though. He was pretty close to defending his actions, and you weren’t okay with that. “You keep saying you aren’t cheating but everything you've said, done and reacted leads me to believe otherwise! I can’t fucking believe you don’t see the issue and you’re actually trying to justify what you did!”
“I know I fucked up, but you’re not even hearing me out. I can tell something’s not right, alright--”
“You’re right. Something isn't right and it's that my husband hid me and his marriage away to self-indulge with someone new who seems to be doing a better job at making you happy than I am so clearly there's more than you’re really saying."
“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked, offended.
“Hmm, where should I begin?” You threw your hands in the air. “When you kept fact that JJ confessed to you, that you and her seem to be hiding something still, now the thing with Maxine!” You were trying so hard to not let the tears slip from your eye. “I- I can’t deal with this..with you right now.” She walks away to their room to pack some things.
“Y/N, wait, let’s talk about this,” he called after you, chasing you up the stairs to your bedroom.
“There’s nothing left to talk about Spence, you lied, point blank.” You tossed your clothes into the bag you had pulled from the suitcase. “We promised there would be no more hiding and no more secrets.” You closed the bag and headed out of the room.
“That’s different. I meant about the killings. I know what I did wasn’t the best thing but I’m sorry for it. I made a stupid mistake. It’s nothing like what you did and hid from me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she turns around with a fire burning in her eyes. “What I did in Miami is nothing compared to what you're doing now, I didn’t go off to find someone to keep me entertained and feeling some type of way, for such a genius you sure are being an idiot. I hid my criminal activity from you and then I was totally honest about it. I confessed to murder so that you wouldn't think I was cheating. Do you get that? I was willing to go to prison before letting you think I was cheating...” You pushed him away from you. “And it wasn’t just about the killings. We promised it would be on everything!” the tears fell but she didn’t care.
“I’m the idiot? Lying is lying, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it’s for--” Just then, he got a call from JJ. As he picked up the phone, you saw her name on caller ID and at that point, you weren’t sure you could even see straight anymore.
“Jesus, Spence! Not even a few moments two of the three of your other women are gone and the third one is already calling.” You stood there glaring at him waiting to see what he would choose to do. “Choose what you do wisely right now because this determines how this ends.” You crossed your arms.
He glanced at you for a moment before answering, keeping eye contact. “Now’s not a good time.” Then he hung up, still looking at you, not saying a word.
“Oh yeah and when is a good time, huh Spencer?” you seethed at him. “Between ignoring the shit out of me, going out with Max, your little girlfriend and seeing an old flame?" You grabbed your bag and walked out without an explanation.
“Y/n!” he yelled, trying to chase you, but you slammed the door in his face. He turned around and screamed. “Fuck!”
You got into your car and drove off to the nearest hotel. For the next few days, you stayed there, but came into work like normal. You spoke to Spencer as much as you could professionally. It was easy to separate the feelings of hate, anger, betrayal, and hurt from work. Your training with Dexter really helped to control your emotions, at least in this setting. At home was an entirely different matter.
One night, you couldn’t take it anymore, so you called Dexter. You needed a friend.
“Dex?” you choked out just before letting out a sob.
“Hey Y/N it’s been a while how are things?” He immediately realized things weren’t okay. “What's wrong is everything okay?”
“No, no it’s not.” Then you launched into everything that had happened since you got home. Spencer being distant, ignoring you, Maxine, kissing Cat, JJ still giving you issues. By the time you were done, you said, “I have no idea what to do. I think he’s going to leave me. I just… I wish he’d get it over with and not parade around with another woman.”
“Y/N, take things slower, don't try to analyze it all at once.” he started by telling you. “We know the thing with JJ is one-sided right? Put that to the side let's look into the other two.” He had stopped what he was doing to focus on you.
You took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. Okay the thing with Cat, I can mostly forgive and forget that. I know why he did it, and he had to be convincing. There was no time to hesitate or she’d see through ihm again.”
“And what exactly about the situation with Cat do you feel is wrong?”
“How passionately he kissed her. That’s reserved for us. He… He did it quickly, without reservation, and he did it with passion. I haven’t seen him that passionate since before he told me about JJ.”
“If I recall correctly he’s a man who uses his brain passionately not always with action especially outside of your relationship.” he nodded his head though clearly you couldn’t see it. “Alright and I understand how this might affect the situation but remember he did so to keep Cat in the game and not cause harm.” He could hear how you were breathing evenly now. “ if it weren’t a kiss it could have been something else that she’d want him to do. Now onto the next issue this Maxine person when did this exactly start?”
“Right after we came back, pretty much. He went to see his therapist, sheshe gave him homework to talk to someone outside of work, and he went out that day and found Maxine. So around a month ago… Why?”
“Well this helps me get a better understanding in terms of timeline.” he took a swig of his drink and continued. “What exactly was it that him and Max were doing in the time frame of the month? Do you know exactly where and what they did?” It was still a bit unclear as to why Spencer would do such a thing at this precise moment. “Besides the things that Cat has said and shown you, is there enough evidence to prove that he indeed is being unfaithful like say deliberately sneaking around to see her or making excuses as to why he’s never around?”
“All she did was show me what they were doing in their time together. Dex, I would ask Spencer to go out to dinner for a date, and he said he was too busy and he was going to see Maxine. I asked him to go to an opening of a museum and he said he was meeting Maxine. I made him a nice brunch one morning, but he ran out to go meet her. Even when we were sitting and watching TV together, he was glued to his phone, texting her, smiling, laughing. When I asked to meet her, he said he wanted to keep us separate because I’m related to work. So other than how I feel about how he’s been treating me, no, I don’t have proof he’s had an affair. All he’s done is shown he’s emotionally attached himself to her. You should've seen it. I’d make a joke and he rarely smiled. She texted him once and he’d be laughing on the floor. It was ridiculous. I felt invisible in my own home. ”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe the recent events were too much to handle for him and he wants to be around someone outside of it all to find some peace of mind before fixing the issue?” he asked. “Now I'm not saying the way he went about it was correct or that he has a right to do so but aside from the arguments did you tell him these things you're telling me?” he sounded like there was more he wanted to say but kept quiet.
“For the most part, yeah, kinda. I didn’t tell him how I’m feeling. More so I tried to get him to admit that what he did was wrong.” You sighed. “But you think he’s right? I know I asked him to handle a lot these last few months. I know that. I told him that all the time. I thanked him for being by my side. But I just lost it when I saw his almost-girlfriend standing in our house, and it was a second after he kissed another woman.”
“And that's where you went wrong, Y/N. Getting him to admit that he did wrong when he didn't do that to you and letting your feelings be known are two polar opposites. I don’t believe that how either of you two are going about is right.” He sighed. “I believe that you two have put a strain on your relationship because of so many things that have happened far too close to one another that it’s clouded both your judgment’s.”
You nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see it. You took a deep breath then swallowed. “Yeah. I think you’re right. I… He shouldn’t have hid me from her, or hid her from me, but past that… I should’ve understood where he was coming from. I asked him to take on too much. I wish things would just go back to normal,” you sighed. “I need to make things right with him. I need to hear him out. Maybe then he can admit that he didn’t do things the right way, and I can apologize for doing the same thing. Thank you, Dexter. You’re always my rock.”
“I care too much about you Y/N to let something like this get the better of you” he smiled knowing you felt better about this. “What are best friends aside from killing together?” he joked hoping to get a laugh from you. “If you need to get a clear mind you where to find me.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll talk to Spencer and let you know.”
You two ended your phone call, and you went to sleep, feeling a bit better about the outlook on your marriage.
------------------------------------------------
But you didn’t get a chance to go to Spencer and apologize. The case for Everett Lynch launched into full swing just a few hours after your phone call with Dexter, and you and Spencer didn’t have a moment alone.
You’d been chasing Everett Lynch for a while now, and finally had him cornered at a woman’s mansion with his mother in the basement. It was a highly volatile situation. Spencer was able to get Roberta to release Olivia before she got hurt. While he was on the phone with Roberta, she apparently gave the all clear to let the team breach and Spencer gave the order. The SWAT crew moved in and you turned to JJ who was on the phone, to ask her why she looked confused. She glanced to you, then turned and screamed, “Spence! Wait!”
But it was too late. An explosion sent the team, and your husband, soaring back, where he hit the pavement hard.
Your heart stopped before you ran over to him, kneeling in front of him. “Spence? Spencer? Can you hear me? I need a medic!” you shouted. He was clearly disoriented, but he was conscious.
The paramedics on site looked him over, but there were no visible signs of any damage. They said he might have a concussion and you needed to watch him. You sat beside him on the plane, holding his hand, but he seemed distant, not talking to you. You were hoping that after a near death experience, it would bring you two closer, and he’d apologize for everything he did… But even then, he couldn’t say anything.
You two got home and you carried his bags inside. He seemed lost in thought still, so you sighed.
“Well, I’m going to go check out of the hotel. I should be here to watch you,” you said, the sadness in your voice.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He was dismissive and he went back to thinking. Maybe he was thinking that his life was short, and he didn’t want to spend it with you any more. Maybe he really had moved on mentally with Max and was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.
You cried the entire drive to the hotel. You gathered your things, and checked out, driving back. Your marriage would end. Not by your doing, but by your husband’s. It was evident he had someone else on his mind all the time, even after he swore he wasn’t seeing her any more.
But the signs were clear. He didn’t fully apologize, he didn’t see anything wrong in his actions, he lied about JJ, he kissed Cat so easily… Clearly, you weren’t the woman he loved any more.
Just as you pulled into your driveway, it was early morning. It took all night to get home from the case, then to get all your things and check out. Hell, it was time for you to be in the office, but you assumed Emily and the team knew Spencer was hurt and that you’d be caring for him.
But there was another car in your driveway.
JJ’s.
You got out and slammed the door to your car. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“I came to check on Spence. He had a nasty hit yesterday. We tried calling both of you but didn’t get a reply. Where have you been anyway?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business.” You started to unlock the door. “Spencer’s fine, by the way. I just had to run an errand. I’ll be in the office in a little--”
But as you walked through your house and JJ followed you, you saw Spencer on the floor of your dining room floor.
“Oh my god. Spencer!” You gasped, running to check on him. “Spence? Can you hear me” In seconds, he started to seize out. “Holy shit. JJ, call 911.”
“On it,” she said quickly, pulling her phone out.
“Don’t do this. Don’t do this,” you begged. "No, Spence, come on. You have to be okay. You have to be. I can't fucking lose you." You held onto him, trying to keep him steady so he didn't hurt his head. Blood was spilling out of his nose.
You had to keep a level head, you had to keep Spencer stable and alive, and also fight off every horrible feeling racing through you. It dawned on you that the last few words you’d said to your husband outside of work would be about him loving other women, and you having no idea where you stood with your own husband. Were his last thoughts about leaving you?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tagging:
Forever Tag:
@essie1876
@magpiegirl80
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@iamwarrenspeace
@marvel-imagines-yes-please
@superwholocked527
@missinstantgratification
@thejemersoninferno
@rda1989
@munlis
@thefridgeismybestie
@bubblyanarocks3
@igiveupicantthinkofausername
@kaliforniacoastalteens
@feelmyroarrrr
@kaeling
@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo
@damalseer
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@yknott81
@thelittlebigirl
@glitterquadricorn
@xxqueenofisolationxx
@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama
@bittersweetunicorm
@alyssaj23
@sea040561
@princess76179
@thisismysecrethappyplace
@sarahp879
@malfoysqueen14
@ellallheart
@breezy1415
@marvelmayo
@paintballkid711
Spencer Reid
@camigt1999
@ultrarebelheart
@lenawiinchester
@esoltis280
ITCM
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@zozoleesi
#inside the criminal mind#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#dexter#dexter morgan#dexter fic#dexter morgan fic
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I got tagged in my first tag game by the awesome @study-not-procrastinating! Thank you so much!!
Rules: Answer 10 questions, the tag and pose 10 questions to 10 people.
Alright, here we go!
1. How would you like to be remembered in 200 years?
Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it! I don’t really have that same lust for immortality that i had as a kid. I guess I’d just like to be remembered as someone who was kind and loyal, and who helped someone achieve something amazing in their life. Maybe as someone who wrote a bomb paper about floral imagery in the Iliad.
2. If you could get any director for a documentary about yourself, who would you pick and why?
Tim Burton! Maybe not a traditional documentary, I would love to have it in his style of stop motion clay. Growing up, I was always attracted to the darker and more macabre aspects of life, and that made it a bit hard to fit in. Fellow goths, you know what I mean. Tim Burton’s art showed me that I wasn’t alone, that there were other people out there who saw the beauty in the same things I did, and that it was okay to embrace your individuality!
3. What would be a museum exhibit that would definitely catch your attention?
Anything about the reign of Mansa Musa! Or about the history of math in the ancient Middle East!
4. If you could commit any crime and not get caught, what would you do?
Steal and repatriate a sacred item stolen from an indigenous people and placed in a museum by people who didn’t respect its intended purpose. Or create a perfectly counterfeit copy of a lost Rembrandt painting and sell it to a billionaire and give the proceeds to local schools who had their art programs cut.
5. Which anime/movie trope do you want to be?
I don’t know the name for it, but the character who’s super sweet and bubbly and maybe a little naive. Like Mako in KLK, Tohru in Fruitsbasket, or Cat in Victorious!
6. Which anime/movie trope are you really?
Either the otaku or the crybaby.
7. At what age would you tell a child Santa isn’t real?
Whenever they seriously ask or start to show signs of disbelief. But I would 1000% make sure that they knew that Santa Claus is real, that those of us who know the secret become Santa Claus and it’s our job to continue spreading joy and belief to the younger kids.
8. Which artist, either dead or living, would you pick to create a portrait of you?
Oh! This is a really tough one. There are so many artists out there who are amazing. For dead artists, I would probably have to say Salvador Dali. For living artists, definitely the amazing @marina-does-things. Her knight Daisy filled my heart with so much joy and she’s so talented!!
9. You can turn back time and rewrite one book that you read in high school English class. What do you change, and why?
If I had to choose, I would have Shakespeare make Romeo and Juliet take place over 3 weeks or months instead of 3 days. It would maybe decrease the satirical element about teens being dumb and making bad decisions, but would that really be so bad? And it would still be an incredibly heartbreaking tale about how there is no place for love in a world ruled by hate and fear, about how that doesn’t matter and we have to love anyway because that is the only way to fight that hate. It would still be a story of how their love was so pure, it defied the rules that bound their lives. But that way when people say that Romeo and Juliet “loved” each other, it would actually be possible.
10. If you were a billionaire, what is the one totally self-indulgent and weird thing you would have and everyone around you would have to pretend is cool.
XD Oh, the choices!! If I could only have one totally self-indulgent thing, I think I would have a bumper car type thing installed in my courtyard, but instead of cars, it would be dalek suits that you could sit in!
Sorry for the long post! Here are my 10 questions:
If you had to choose one decade to erase from history in order to save the planet from extinction, what decade would you choose and why?
Which of your parents do you think you are more like?
What do you think are the 5 most beautiful things one earth?
If you could explore either the deepest parts of the ocean or the furthest reaches of space, which would you choose?
What do you love most about your culture?
Who is the one person you would talk to about anything?
Do you have a favorite sitcom? If so, what is it?
When you think of home, what comes to mind?
If you could do absolutely anything you want tonight, and money was no concern, what would you do?
What is something you learned today that was completely unexpected or just really interesting?
@jawnkeets @etherealacademia @thawinoakenshield @studylustre @languages-and-code @gildedstudy @studylikeathena @studyambitiouss @studydiaryofamedstudent @dionyrtal
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On Seeing: A Journal - #259 June 12th, 2018
"Above & Beyond with Adam Gopnik”
Adam Gopnik is a Renaissance Man’s Renaissance Man. A long-time staff writer at The New Yorker, he is an essayist, a critic, a playwright, a novelist, an author of children’s books…in short, the epitome of the enlightened human. I read his writing avidly, and, a few weeks ago, invited him to our studio to participate in my project “ABOVE and BEYOND.”
A three-time winner of the National Magazine Award, Gopnik has amazingly broad knowledge of many areas, including: Art and art history, culture, politics, music, even sports. His first essay in The New Yorker, "Quattrocento Baseball," appeared in May of 1986, and he served as the magazine’s art critic from 1987 to 1995. During our interview, he spoke in perfectly structured, literate English, as clear and precise as his written words.
Here are some of Gopnik’s thoughts that I found especially compelling from our interview:
HS: So prolific, I wonder how you organize your life. When do you write? When do you read? When do you think? When do you go to museums, see friends, have a life? You must have some efficiently organized method in order to produce as much as you do.
AG: I have a very standard routine. I start drinking strong coffee early in the morning. I go off to my little study and I write for four hours. I have many sisters, one of them a distinguished psychologist, and she says that you can only do creative work intently for four hours at a stretch. So, I do four hours from nine til one, every day.
I try not to do anything else. I’m just there to write. I do it in a way that makes it maximally uncomfortable for anyone else who intrudes on me, because I can only write if I’m playing extremely loud rock music from my high school years: Jethro Tull; Eric Clapton with Derek & The Dominos, that great Layla album; Jimi Hendrix; all of that music.
HS: You play this music, and loudly, as you write?
AG: I can’t think if I don’t have the music, that’s the funny thing. I also overheat terribly as I’m writing, so I have to keep the windows open in the middle of winter.
I’ve had a series of wonderful assistants just coming out of college, and they’re sort of excited about the job. You know, “I’m going to be a writer’s assistant and see the elegance of a New Yorker writer’s life," and instead it’s just a little man, four hours a day, in a brutally cold room with incredibly loud music playing, and that’s their experience. So, they’d retreat into the hallway and spend the time talking with my wife.
HS: Where and how do you think your work has had greatest impact given the political and cultural bias of The New Yorker?
AG: Writing for The New Yorker, which is a traditionally liberal magazine, of course you ask yourself a question, "what am I really affecting here?" because I’m writing to people who agree with me in advance. But, if you look at the greatest political editorialists who have ever lived, Albert Camus, for instance, they were writing themed journals that were directed to people who were inclined to agree with them in the first place.
What we do, I think, as citizens, writing, is not so much to change minds as to bear witness.
What you want to say is not, “here’s an argument that will convince you of the opposite of what you believe already, but here’s the kind of argument you ought to be making to the people who don’t agree with you."
HS: We live in a time with a bully in the White House. And, yet, despite the mean-spirited and hypocritical behavior, there are still thirty to forty percent of Americans…
AG: Who love him.
HS: And my question on changing people’s minds comes from something you wrote in your wonderful book, "At the Strangers’ Gate," that was astounding. I’d like to read it and perhaps you can comment on it:
"No one really surrenders an illusion in the face of a fact. We prefer the illusion to the fact. The more facts you invoke, in fact, the stronger the illusion becomes. All faith is immune to all facts to the contrary, or else we would not have such hearty faiths and such oft-resisted facts. If your faith is in life’s poetry, as ours was, a tiny room inadequate by any human standard and designed to make life borderline impossible looks appealing. The less possible it becomes the more beautiful the illusion looks. Such illusions – call them delusions; I won’t argue now – grow under the pressure of absurdity, as champagne grapes sweeten under the stress of cold ground."
AG: Yes, I think that’s true. I mean, I was writing specifically there about the reality that when Martha, my then girlfriend, now wife for many years, and I moved to New York, we were enraptured with an idea of poetry, a kind of metropolitan poetry. And, the apartment we moved into was 9x11 basement room overrun by cockroaches in which there was about as little poetry as you could expect to find in the world.
But, we weren’t disillusioned by it. We simply doubled-down on the myths that we were self-creating, and I think that’s generally true. You know, no one is ever argued out of a religious faith by contrary facts. No one is every argued out of a political ideology.
That’s the problem we’re faced with: You can’t resist a figure like Trump by appealing to the facts, by saying he lies all the time, because the people who admire him like the fact that he lies all the time. The lies, in a certain way, are appealing to them because it gives them license to indulge their own fantasies. In other words, if somebody tells you three million people voted illegally in California, it’s an outright, absurd lie. But, that an authority figure says it gives you a right to believe in it.
If your question is what do you do then, when you have a leader who is completely allergic to facts and who appeals to an audience that’s resistant to facts, I think the answer is that you can’t fantasize that you’re going to convert those folks.
What happens is that you get new generations who just don’t buy it. If you think about the great social changes, the great positive social changes of our time, they tend not to happen because you have people who are entrenched in a bigoted or old-fashioned reactionary position who are converted. What tends to happen, is the young generations who come along simply don’t enlist in the bigotry.
HS: I’d like to talk about the natural history of creativity, its life-cycle. There’s sort of an apex, a fertile period of creativity, then a downturn. Recently, I heard Dylan say when asked about his seminal work of 50 years ago, "Who writes like that?!" Probably everybody’s curve is different and maybe some people have a second curve. Do you have any thoughts about that?
AG: I think that any honest, creative person is bound to confess that when one looks at other artists and creative people, you tend to see that they have a high period and then a falling off period.
Bob Dylan is a remarkable character, but there’s no question that the Dylan between 1966 and 1974, between Blonde on Blonde and Blood on the Tracks is the Dylan who we’ll remember. Paul McCartney is a musician of limitless melodic invention, but the McCartney we’ll remember is between 1965 and 1969. So, there’s a lot be said for the idea that artists ought to retire in a way that fighters ought to retire before they get punch-drunk and lazy-legged and all the rest of it. However, what I do think is true is that even if you accept that all creativity is cyclical and has a falling off point, there’s still an enormous value in artists persisting, because artists don’t just give us the gift of their products, they give us the gift of their example.
Dylan 2018 is not writing songs the way Dylan 1968 did, but it’s wonderful to see him continuing to stand up there with his croaky voice and his little mustache bearing witness to what it is to have been Bob Dylan.
HS: Do some artists have two periods of great work?
AG: Yes, I think they do. Matisse did unimaginably beautiful work between 1905 and 1920; went on doing interesting, not nearly as profound work and then, suddenly, as an old man changed his medium, started using scissors instead of a paint brush and, once again, did utterly sublime work.
De Kooning, another artist who had a great late blooming. Philip Roth, to take a name that doesn’t seem to sit with de Kooning and Matisse, maybe, at first, through sheer dint and intelligence continued to blaze new kinds of witness, new kinds of writing, in part, because he had the enormously smart idea that he should write about what it was like when he was young again. Instead of trying to bear witness again and again to the new world, he wrote very much about New York in the 1940s.
I don’t think silence is a good answer for an artist, even if an artist is aware that it’s a general rule that you do your best work at a particular moment; the work that people will remember most.
HS: What are your thoughts on the larger issues of the day, especially fake news and how, in a way, it threatens our democracy?
AG: Fake news is one of those things that has managed, through the mendacious spin of a very mendacious man, to totally reverse meaning. When fake news was first talked about people meant actually manufactured fraudulent stories that were being passed around on the internet, very often to the benefit of Donald Trump.
He turned it around to make it an accusation at people who were actually doing real news: CNN, The New York Times and so on, who do their work in the same flawed and imperfect way that we all do our work, but who genuinely are trying to report the world as it is. It’s Trump, the man who speaks loudest about fake news, who is the most culpable of spreading fake news… “three million people voted illegally, I had the biggest crowd," and on and on and on.
So, I don’t feel fake news is as big a problem as the people crying about fake news. In other words, it’s when the governing class decides to demoralize the population by telling them they can’t believe anything that they’re being told. That’s when you get the crisis.
I’m not worried about fake news. I’m worried about fake politicians.
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On Places
By Dani
I live in Orléans, the “Largest metropolis outside of Paris,” but notably smaller than its illustrious neighbor. A train departing from Gare d’Austerlitz will carry you around 133 kilometers slightly southwest of the City of Lights; it’s a pleasant ride, albeit the somewhat fogged-over and grimy windows ever present on the passenger cars. This is a minor shame because the ride has pretty views, probably less sparkling to me now than they would have seemed when I was freshly expatriated, but pretty nonetheless. As swathes of landscape pass by, I’m sometimes reminded of sitting in the backseat of the car en route to my grandparents’ in the countryside of Kentucky. On these occasions I might close my eyes, imagine the views on a certain stretch of Dixie Beeline Highway-- an unremarked constant in my youth and childhood-- and open them again to see if the resemblance is truly there. I think it is.
Orléans qualifies as a ville in French but treads somewhere between a town and a city in my anglophone mind, not quite landing on one or the other. By all other accounts it is a city; it’s the capital of the Centre Val-de-Loire region and has a population nearing 115,000. Joan of Arc once saved Orléans from English siege, and I once dressed up as Joan of Arc for a 6th-grade project on “Distinguished women.” Funny, things like that. Apparently the qualifiers for “Cities” and “Towns” aren’t so defined, at least not on the internet, but I do think that Orléans is the “smallest” place I’ve ever lived. In terms of population, this is by a long shot. I went to school in Chicago. I spent four years in Paris. I come from Nashville, which was pointedly unexceptional to me growing up but the longer I’m away, the more Nashville grows and changes, and the more my metropolitan Southern upbringing feels personally significant; like something to be protected. In any case, you achieve some perspective when the precocious 11-year-old girl you once babysat laments to you that she’s “just a Parisian,” or when a passerby on the dance floor asks you where you’re from and, upon hearing your response, widens his eyes and exclaims “You’re from the real America!”
I’ve officially lived here for 9 months now, which is incredible to me, and yet I can’t say that I’m an expert or a bonafide Orléanaise, and if I were I wouldn’t know it. I’m not exactly sure of what getting to know a new locale is supposed to entail, despite having done it several times, but I’m not the type to run out and join clubs, leagues, associations or anything of the like. For most of this year I’ve kept to myself, and my experience of the city has largely been that of errands and commutes. Orléans does have a certain conviviality, and Rue de Bourgogne (just a street away from me) is lined with bars, making for lively Saturday nights in the city center. I’ve enjoyed the occasional drink or coffee with a colleague, and one will inevitably run into one’s students. I went to college in the big city, so in a way it’s nice to finally experience what feels like the French version of a “University Town,” and it’s the polar opposite of Paris anonymity. On the whole, though, I mainly enjoy the comforts of my agreeably-decorated and immaculately-kept studio apartment. It even has a view of the la Cathédrale Saint-Croix, which, in my personal opinion, beats Notre Dame in a gothic beauty pageant (even before the tragic fire). Sometimes at night, bats fly in circles between my third-floor (American third-floor) window and the rooftops on the opposite side of the street. Bats used to fly outside of my earliest childhood home. We named one of them “Shadow.”
I didn’t choose to move to Orléans. Not really. I applied for a job here when it seemed I was out of options in Paris. I’ve always preferred big cities. The first two months that I lived here, I think I took a train back nearly every weekend. Once I met up with an old friend who introduced me to her chic Italian-American pal who had just moved from Rome to Paris for a job at Versace. Over a glass of wine in a café next to la Trocadéro she posited that you had to live in Paris-- or at least in a major big city--- when you were young. Youth was lost on anything smaller. I thought about that on the train ride home. My life was no more exciting in Paris than it is now; maybe a little, but the margin is narrow. I went through about a 6-month stint of raucous partying in various nightclubs and bars, but that lifestyle wore thin fast and was never really me being me. I was having fun but I’m not so sure it was my own idea of fun. I also didn’t run out to join any clubs, leagues, or associations in Paris either. Why does everyone tell you to do this in a new city? Maybe my unwillingness to “immerse” myself is a lack of motivation on my part, but I think it’s just who I am. Or perhaps my definition of immersion is just different from how it’s largely understood. I’ve never been a site-seeing fiend when I travel either; sometimes I wonder if I waste time in undiscovered territory by sitting in parks and restaurants or aimlessly walking about. When I do take an interest in a museum or historical site, it’s a no thank you from me to any kind of organized tour. Did you know that John Stamos narrates the self-guided audio tour of Graceland? At least, he did when I was there. That’s where I first learned the hard lesson about such a thing’s capability of ruining a real experience. As compensation for lugging a tablet and headphones throughout the grounds, Stamos will let you in on exclusive information such as the fact that Elvis enjoyed playing the pianos in his own home. I would have much preferred to take in the tacky but touching décor of Elvis’ home on my own, with my own thoughts. I digress. A compliment was once given to me (or so I think it was a compliment, and if it was, it’s my favorite) by a friend of my parents’ who, in mid-conversation with them, turned to me and said, “She’s not saying anything, but she’s listening, alright. Not one thing is getting past her.” I think that’s always how I’ve interfaced with life. Many of us are mainly observers. I’ve only recently begun to feel validated in my choices of experiencing the world.
I won’t lie and say that I haven’t wondered if my existence isn’t just a little boring, and if it isn’t sort of, maybe, my fault. Sometimes that Thoreau quote that everyone loves so much about men leading lives of quiet desperation gives me uncomfortable pause. This past Thursday I had a somewhat lengthy list of banal and administrative errands to run; I had to complete my tax form, mail it in (How French), shop for groceries, and purchase some office supplies at the local bookstore. It was a day, not unusual for me, spent in the company of my internal monologue and with no spectacular plot developments. But the sun had shone, I had completed my errands, and I had enjoyed an unadventurous but quietly serene mood; the kind that comes with knowing exactly where you are and feeling no impending stress about anything in particular. The wait in line for the print shop felt only slightly long and when I left the place I was minutiously thrilled at putting my stack of warm government documents into my ready-to-mail envelope; the same one that gave me an equal thrill when I slipped it into the post box. I went into the bookstore looking only for a folder but found myself perusing the displays as if it were some kind of hobby of mine; sort of how I imagine birdwatchers to feel when bird-watching. I got my folder along with several unnecessary indulgences. The lady at the cash register was nice. I stopped by the corner grocery near my place where all three of the cashiers know me in a neighborly way. The fact that they recognize me used to make me slightly anxious, but these days it’s comforting.
I went back home, walking up main street with the Cathedral in my view, purchases in tow, missions accomplished, not regarding the monument in awe as I had that first time-- overlooking it, even-- but I feel that its mere presence must have done something good for my state of mind even without my knowing it. I feel like I must have, by an undetectable increment, come to know a little better the place where I live. I had understood what that Italian-American friend of a friend had meant when she talked about youth and big cities. It was an innocuous comment, and true in its own right. Still, it fed a strange notion I’ve held onto about happiness coming from location; as if people belong in a certain place, at a certain time. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t pretentiously entertained the thought that I’m more adventurous than the peers I grew up with; that their lives in the same city they’ve always been in and with the same pool of people they’ve always known must be dull. Such a thought is consoling for a moment, but sometimes those peers make me wonder what I’ve sacrificed to be here. I feel envious when friends go to visit their parents who live only an hour away. I’m cognisant of the privilege that let me choose to live abroad. I’ve never had to move out of necessity. And yet I lamented having left Paris, all the while living only an hour away and still in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. I’ve always known and appreciated these things of course, but sometimes you lose touch. I’ve lived in astounding places yet still astound myself with my penchant for feeling unfulfilled. The problem has undoubtedly been me, and that’s a dreadful realization to face.
Geographical location has been a strange and constant metric by which I have evaluated my life. Coming to France was searching for adventure and running away at the same time. When location, however, didn’t necessarily bring with it the adventure, the ragtag band of lifelong friends or the passionate love affair that I hoped I’d find, I felt a bit lost and unsure of my direction in life. I sometimes continue to feel this way. After all, when Jane Birkin came to France in 1968, she immediately landed a leading role in Slogan, became Serge Gainsbourg’s muse and lover, went down in fame and infamy and effectively wove herself into the very fabric of French pop culture. Of course, I didn’t have the same head start that comes with marrying John Barry (of James Bond fame) and appearing nude in Blowup. Don’t get me wrong. I have no regrets. Learning a new language and living internationally, I’m convinced, is the only way I managed to overcome almost crippling timidity. I’m better for it. I feel, however, that I’ve asked too much of the places I have lived; I’m not Jane Birkin, and Paris was never going to do for me what it did for her. You have to look for your life--or so I’ve heard in a certain Robert Wise movie-- and it’s a notion that I adore but one that I wonder if I’ve taken too literally. I’m not saying that I’m done looking; next year I’ll leave Orléans and go somewhere else; hopefully somewhere bigger, but the “Looking” will be a different kind of looking. It’s the age-old knowledge that happiness comes from within, not from without, but we all learn this lesson in different ways. I moved across the Atlantic ocean to learn it. Growing up, in my experience, has been moments of finally just “Getting” wisdom that you’ve heard a thousand times over, throughout your whole life. I know that I’ll feel a bittersweet pang when I close my apartment door in Orléans for the last time, so I want to enjoy where I am and who I am at this very moment. Orléans is the first place I’ve stopped expecting anything from, and because of that, I can appreciate it for what it is. When I was handed the keys to my little studio here in the center of town, the agent told me reassuringly, “Tu seras bien ici.” I think I am good here. I certainly won’t be returning to Paris.
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Answer the odd numbers!
Oh, wow, that’s a lot XD I’ll try to do as many as I can, but I shall try to keep it briefer than usual. If something is too difficult, then I’ll skip. Let’s go! 1) Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? My friends are trying to get me into spotify, I tend to use soundcloud more, but my preferred way of finding new music has often ended up being accidentally leaving youtube on in a tab after a song finished, and having it cycle through sort-of related music.
3) what color are your eyes?Reasonably light brown. Someone was once nice enough to tell me they look like honey, when I’m in the sun.
5) what is your relationship status? Not where I see myself in the longterm.
7) what color hair do you have?Darkish brown. I dye it almost exactly the colour it naturally is. Or was, before the Grey Hair Fairy frosted my temples with some serious silver.
9) where do you shop?The high street, and online? Nowhere particularly fancy. Occasinally I’ll be tempted by something off etsy. 11) favorite social media accountIn terms of personally, I keep up with a lot of people I don’t see often through facebook. But I really enjoy the community we have here. 13) any siblings?A younger sister and a much younger brother. I’m the dorky, embarrasing but protective eldest.
15)favorite snapchat filter? Um… I don’t use snapchat often. Hmm. Anything that lets you transform two pictures at once, because then I can pull someone else in for a selfie! XD17) how many times a week do you shower?Weird question, but the answer is; as often as I can. You want to wash the hospital off you. 19) shoe size?Either 4, 41/2 or 5 in UK sizes (so between 37 and 38 in European sizes), no idea what that is in US measurements. It’s small enough that sometimes I end up in the kiddy section.
21) sandals or sneakers? Depends on for what. Sneakers are generally good for most things, but there are times when sandals are more appropriate.
23) describe your dream dateI don’t know about dream, but a nice lunch on a sunny day, followed by a trip to a gallery or a museum, or perhaps a nice walk is 1000 times better than catching drinks in a crowded bar. As for anyone who drags someone to excercise on a ‘date’…no. Just no. 25) what color socks are you wearing? They happen to be black socks with tigers on them.
27) do you have a job? what do you do? I sometimes give hope, I always give support, but I cannot always give life when time has run out.
29) whats the worst thing you have ever done? The thing I’m most cringey about is the time I offended a classmate in primary school. I must have been 7. They asked me why I didn’t invite them to my party, and I gave them a reason that was both untrue and rude, and in the end I invited them and I came. But I’m still not sure why I did that.
31) 3 favorite boy names
I don’t know. Names I prefer in guys I’m seeing? Or for future kids? Or characters? Because those answers would all be different…
33) favorite actor?Right now, let’s say Robin Williams and Emma Thompson. I could say more, but then we’d be here all day.
35)who is your celebrity crush?I’m going to have to be really, really cliche and say Tom Hiddleston. That voice would sound compelling even if it was just reading out his shopping list, and he has really nice hands. I also think Jensen Ackles is pretty ahem, delectable, too.
37) do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I love to read, with a passion. But I go through periods where I read a lot, and others when I read much less. Picking one book would be an impossibility.
39) do you have a nickname? what is it? Trying to find one which isn’t some derivative of my name, or just plain weird is hard.
41) top 10 favorite songsThis would probably require too much thought to answer right now.
43) what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)Oily. Definitely wasn’t blessed on the skin front, but such is life. Weirdly, friends keep telling me they thinl I have clear skin, and I’m like ‘whose face have you been looking at?!’ Which just does to show that we’re the only ones who notice our own blemishes. Take for example, scars. I have a few (!!) on my face, and people can know me for years and not realise they are there. Then literally turn around one day and say “OMG, what happened to your FACE?” To which I reply… “Um, nothing? It’s always like this.”.
45) how many kids do you want? This is not something I’ve really thought about? Enough to keep each other company, but not so many that I’m spending the next 500 years changing nappies. So 2 or 3, I guess?
47) what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) Whatever kind of house I can afford. I don’t realistically see myself affording to live in London, and I don’t realistically see any chance of a big house if I live in the UK. But such is life.
49) what was the last compliment you received?On one of my recent night shifts, one of the nurses asked me where I was from. And I told her (people don’t usually know, or care, much about my country, but I see no reason to lie), and she said “I wanted to know why, because you are so confident. The way you talk” And I was taken aback. “Confident? ME? Really?!?”. To which she replied, laughing “You think you are not?”. All this time I’ve been quite reserved, and always told by my seniors that I ought to have more faith in my clinical decisionmaking and just be more assertive, it was quite surprising to find out that someone saw me bumbling along on my night shift and thought I looked and sounded confident. 51) how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?Probably around 7? I was apparently not amused. I can’t remember. In retrospect, perhaps it’s odd that I always knew about the birds and the bees but not about Santa.53) opinion on smoking?Not a good idea, but often understandable. Nearly always started when we are very young, in order to fit in or belong. I grew up with one parent being a smoker (they quit, yay!) and have friends who smoked since their teens, so I can understand how hard it is to give up, and what addiction means. But one thing I really don’t understand is grownups “socially smoking”. At all. It’s flirting with addiction, has no benefits, and just drains your money? I feel that most people my age who indulge in social smoking really should probably know better. But then that applies to many things in our lives.
55) what is your dream job? To be a magical girl/superhero. Being a doctor who draws comics shall, however, suffice until I get called into service by a cute magical familiar.
57) do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? I used to use them, but I wouldn’t say that I would stock up on the whole stash. Though I have a sad feeling that they chuck the ones you don’t use, so maybe we should all be taking them?
59) do you smile for pictures?I used to never smile for pictures, because I had over-large incisors with a noticeable gap in them, and felt really self-conscious about them for most of my life. Then I stopped caring. But lately I realised my teeth no longer look oversized, and the gap has kind of shrunken, a little to my dismay.
61) have you ever peed in the woods? Another bizarrre question. I don’t hang out in the woods, but if there were no toilets within reasonable access, then I would? Pee is aseptic and the entirety of nature does it, plus it’s hardly going to get in anyone’s way?
63) do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?I don’t even think we HAVE Wendy’s, so I guess the golden arches win by default?65) what do you wear to bed? Pajamas, because it’s usually cold? Unless we’re talking about entertaining…
67) what are your hobbies?Answering memes and solving the internet’s problems. Sometimes I draw. 69) do you play an instrument?I cannot manipulate notes like I manipulate words. I sort of learned the recorder and piano a little bit, but despite lovely encouragement, I don’t have the time nor the patience it would take to be good at music. I find it a very attractive quality in others, though!
71) tea or coffee?Coffee in the morning, tea at teatime (duh) and hot chocolate at night.73) do you want to get married?I would like to end with a relationship that is stable, comfortable and friendship blended with being lovers. It’s not that a piece of paper has meaning, rather that being sure you want to be with someone for the forseeable future is what makes it special. Sometimes it takes being willing to discuss that bit of paper for both parties to truly know how sure they are to share each others’ lives. 75) are you going to change your last name when you get married? Definitely not intending to. Sometimes my last name is a pain, because nobody can spell it, or pronounce it. And it’s so long that hyphenating would make it even more of a pain than it already is. But I’m attached to my name, it’s a part of me and my ethnic identity, and definitely am not going into relationships with an idea that I “have to take my husband’s name”. They can take mine, if they wish. Perhaps I’d be tempted to if someone’s name was just incredibly awesome, who knows? I would rarely rule anything out before the fact. But I certainly don’t intend to.
77) do you miss anyone right now? Yep. Don’t we all?
79) do you believe in ghosts?I’ve never seen one, and I’d rather not, thanks. I believe in not tempting fate and staying in my own lane, paranormally speaking. 81) last person you calledFunnily enough, just a work colleague. I missed a call at work (we were both on call) , and called them after the shift, which is when I realised they’d called. Fortunately we’d already taken care of the situation.
83) regular oreos or golden oreos? What is a golden oreo? Regular, since I know no other kind.
85) what shirt are you wearing? The pajamas my aunt and recently deceased gran gave me for my last birthday.
87) are you outgoing or shy?Shy.
89) do you like your neighbors? My flatmates are OK, but keep themselves to themselves and work far too many shifts (no doubt they’d say the same about me!). I don’t know everyone else in the building. 91) have you ever been high? Who needs to be high when you’ve been a teenage girl?93) last thing you ate? Soba noodles. 95) summer or winter? Summer. It’s when you are warm and sunny, and can go for long rambling walks all day. Winter is too dark, I feel like I don’t get any sunlight at all in the winter
97) dark, milk, or white chocolate? All of the above. If I had to pick one, then dark?99) what is your zodiac sign?I’m a leo, but I never thought it represented me. People always assume Leos are brash, loud, confident extroverts who wear leopard print and go to all the parties. Meanwhile, here I am with a cat under my arm wondering why that’s meant to be me. Though, I really hate the idea of someone telling me what I’m meant to be like, horoscopes or life in general. Like, they don’t even know me. The nerve. So perhaps there’s a little bit of that kind of imperiousness about me, after all.
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what’s up everybody it has NOT been two years since i promised to write this fic! fuck yeah! i’m as surprised as anyone.
anyways this fic is a follow-up to “Maternity”, as requested by the lovely @ghost-mantis and based off of their adorable Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers post!
well, it was sort of requested? when people say they wish something existed i do my best to fulfill the space waiting for it. like a fairy godmother, but with self-indulgent fanfiction. actually this fanfiction is just as self-indulgent for me. so i’m my own fairy godmother, i guess. just take it from me, i don’t know what i’m talking about anymore.
Family
In which the Agori need a little help, the Matoran don’t mind chipping in, and the Toa are surprisingly good at this. It turns out when you’re coded to protect and defend smaller creatures who depend on you, it translates pretty well to babysitting. In some cases more so than others.
[The sequel to “Maternity”. The biomech community tries to help their new neighbors out. Takanuva is supposed to write about it, but he doesn’t know where to start. Who better to ask for help than the Toa Nuva? Probably anyone, actually.
Featuring Taka never not being a chronicler, Lewa finally discovering what exhaustion feels like, and Pohatu’s permanent acquisition of a child. Also some lowkey pre-anything K/P and T/G, because [Ron Swanson voice] I can do what I want. You might as well count O/L in there too, because after reading currentlyunknown’s work I have a really hard time picturing them otherwise.
A BIG thank you to @outofgloom and their work with the Matoran language! According to their incredible PDF, ‘peki’ means shard, fragment, or pebble.]
“I’m dying, brothers. Don’t let them put me under the low-ground. Throw my body into the wind.”
“You’re not dying,” Onua said, patting Lewa on the mask. The Air Toa was draped over the Earth Toa’s shoulders in a perfect imitation of the tiny Agori currently napping on Onua’s lap. “You’re just tired.”
“It feels like dying.”
“This is how you make the rest of us feel all the time,” Kopaka said.
Onua frowned at him, but Lewa seemed too out of it to pay any attention to anything that wasn’t his own misery.
Takanuva tapped the end of his carving tool on the slab he was working on. Turaga Whenua had forcibly recruited him to help with his new project, a museum on the history of the Matoran and the Agori, and put Takanuva in charge of ‘recording present events from a Toa’s perspective’. This meant what was happening in the settlements right now, as well as everything after what the Agori called the Time of Renewal, and Ackar called ‘I’m Not Getting Any More Rest, Ever’.
“Let it be known,” Whenua had said proudly, “That we stepped in to help where we could.”
Takanuva was happy to be writing again, but he had no clue what Whenua wanted him to write about. Matoran and Agori reporters were covering the gradual cultural intersection just fine on their own.
He’d thought hanging around the older half of the resident Toa population would provide some inspiration, but so far all the Toa Nuva were interested in doing was taking a well-earned break from settlement patrols and, oddly enough, babysitting.
“I don’t know how the Matoran do it,” Lewa said.
The Matoran had become the primary guardians of the baby Agori while their parents were working. On top of not replicating biologically, Matoran needed less food and less water than the Agori due to having fewer organic parts. This made them perfect candidates to watch young Agori while mothers and fathers farmed, hunted, or crafted.
Most Matoran Takanuva knew had taken to the job with delight. After so long being protected under various teams of Toa, many of them relished being the protector, and basked in the adoration the young Agori gave them.
This did not excuse the Toa from new Agori-related duties, as there was hardly a safer place to leave your child than with a trained warrior. Takanuva had seen the Toa’s reactions to this vary.
“It’s easy,” Tahu told Lewa, waving a hand. “Just make up fake quests for them to go on.”
“Like what the Turaga did to us?” Lewa grumbled.
“That’s different,” Tahu said, but with wavering confidence.
After his first, rather graphic brush with new life, Toa Tahu had been skittish for a while. Even now, babies were not his thing. However, he’d turned out to be fine with young children who could follow him on mini-adventures and look at him with blatant hero-worship. Privately, Taka was sure that several Agori were going to grow up with a disproportionate idea of what the Toa Nuva of Fire was capable of, but the children were happy and Takanuva had to admit that none of them received so much as a scratch when Tahu was around.
“You shouldn’t be doing that all the time anyways,” Onua said.
Onua took to guardianship with pleased patience. He was the safe harbor children went to when they were scared or tired. Agori parents liked him because he always managed to teach his tiny companions a lesson they would have otherwise resisted.
“You get them when they’re tired,” Lewa grumbled. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Agori parents also liked Lewa. The Air Toa was excitable and tended to lead his charges into mud and brambles, but he could entertain them for hours and leave them utterly worn out when they returned to their parents, who were then blessed with a sleepy, obedient child. This also left the Toa Nuva with a very tired Air Toa, which suited them equally well.
“I’m with Onua on this,” Kopaka said. “You two are oversimplifying it.”
Kopaka was adored by the young Agori for a reason none of the Toa could quite figure out, including the Ice Toa himself. He wasn’t sharp or dismissive to the children who tagged along after him, but always looked a little bit out of his depth and as if he’d like someone to come and give him a break, please. Gali said it was teaching him humility and gentleness. Tahu said it was funny, and probably also karma.
“The children seem happy enough with them,” Gali said. “We are just babysitting.”
For her part, Gali was a wonderful guardian. She took her tiny charges to ponds and beaches, taught them about the water, and made sure they had time to nap and plenty to drink. On paper, she seemed to be the perfect parent, which was probably due to the fact that she had no interest in being one.
“They’re sweet,” she’d told Takanuva once, “But I’m always a little relieved when they go.” She preferred being able to connect on a more sophisticated level with her villagers, interacting with the children in passing or when their parents were around and she didn’t have to mother them.
Pohatu—currently absent from the group—was probably the most parent-like of all the Toa, when it came right down to it. He taught the Agori children Kolhi, didn’t let them eat too many sweets, and talked to them in a way none of the others could fully master—not like he talked to his Matoran, but not like one would talk to a Rahi pup, either.
It probably came from Peki.
Orphans weren’t uncommon. Just because Bara Magna was safer now didn’t mean no one died. Some non-Agori couples, such as Hewkii and Macku, had taken to adopting parentless children into their lives, mimicking the Agori definition of ‘family’.
Pohatu had no such prequalification for taking in Peki. She was a rock tribe Agori who had lost her parents to Bone Hunters in a violent way, and had fought anyone who tried to care for her afterwards like a small, traumatized feral cat. Shuttled from house to house, the main settlement had been at wits end of what to do with her when Pohatu had volunteered to watch her for a while, if only because it was harder for her to bite through his armor than through the Agori’s organic parts.
Peki’s behavior had only gotten worse for a few weeks. She hid under furniture, screamed herself hoarse, and rebuffed every attempt at affection he offered her. He hadn’t given up, however, and slowly but surely, the tiny Agori began to trust him.
She followed him around chattering now, tugged him to the places she wanted to go, and sat on his shoulders for piggyback rides. She played well with other children, and didn’t start crying when people said hello to her anymore. If Pohatu had had any hesitations about becoming a full-time parent, it was too late; he’d been thoroughly adopted.
The stone Toa, though, seemed as happy about it as Peki was. Tahu had remarked rather pointedly that it was probably because Pohatu had experience with tantrum-throwing, unaffectionate types, and that it was a pity Kopaka hadn’t turned out to be as sweet as Peki. Kopaka had flash-frozen his feet to the ground in response.
There was an incoming shriek that pulled Takanuva from his thoughts, and a small Agori was running pell-mell towards them, before hurtling itself at the Toa of Ice.
Kopaka swung Peki up onto his shoulders with easy strength. He was a little more comfortable with Peki than with the other Agori children, probably due to the sheer amount of time he spent around her and her guardian.
“News from Turaga Onewa,” the Stone Toa in question said, arriving a few steps behind his charge. “There’s a group of settlers packing up and heading west.”
“How is that our business?” Tahu asked, blunt as ever.
“Some Matoran are accompanying them,” Pohatu said, and all of the Toa turned to focus on him immediately. So far, the Matoran had stayed with their Toa and Turaga, not wandering any farther than the edge of the main settlement.
“From which villages?” Onua was already fretting. “Will they be all right? Who will protect them?”
“Maybe a Glatorian will go,” Tahu said, but he sounded just as worried. “Like Ackar.”
“If Ackar takes on anything else I think he’ll keel over,” Pohatu said. “And Kiina will just laugh at anyone who asked her. Anyways, it’s mainly ice tribe Agori and Ko-Matoran.”
“That’s a mixture,” Takanuva remarked. Unlike the Ko-Matoran, Ice Tribe Agori were a social bunch.
“I think the idea is that they can balance each other out,” Pohatu said, but he looked as concerned as Takanuva felt.
“Maybe Kopaka will get shipped off with them,” Tahu said, and the gathering went quiet. Even the Fire Toa looked uncomfortable with his remark, but unsure of how to take it back. Despite their bickering, none of the Toa Nuva liked the idea of being away from each other for too long.
“I sincerely hope I do not,” Kopaka said at last, almost softly.
Peki was waving happily to Takanuva over Kopaka’s shoulder, and Takanuva waved back, grateful for a distraction from the awkward silence.
“Kohli,” Peki said. It was her favorite word, alongside ‘up’, ‘why’, and ‘no’. She turned to the Toa holding her. “C’mon, ’Paka, play!”
“Later,” the Ice Toa said, seeming to shake off the silence. “Pohatu, why didn’t Turaga Nuju tell me about this?”
“Too busy training a children’s birdspeak choir, probably,” Pohatu said, in an effort to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Kopaka,” he amended when Kopaka frowned. “I don’t think the Turaga knew about it, either.”
“Our Matoran can make decisions on their own,” Gali said. “We knew that.”
“Yes,” Lewa said. “But they’re our Matoran. What will happen when they leave us?”
There was another silence, less awkward and more upset.
Onua sighed. “Things are changing.”
Lewa hid his face in Onua’s shoulder. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s unavoidable,” Onua said. “The present must become the past.”
Kopaka and Tahu rolled their eyes as one.
“I know I shouldn’t be worried,” Pohatu said. “But I am anyways.”
“Separation anxiety?” Takanuva offered. One of the Agori working at the museum had taught him the phrase. “Like when your child leaves the nest.”
“We don’t have nests, and the Matoran aren’t our children,” Tahu said matter-of-factly, and Takanuva wondered, not for the first time, how the Toa Nuva functioned as well as they did in Agori society.
“You still care for them, though,” he said, instead. “We still care for them. Even though we know they can fend for themselves, we’re still worried.” He tapped his carving tool thoughtfully on the side of his mask. “I think we’re a little like parents that way.”
“There are some similarities,” Onua agreed. “But I think Pohatu’s the only one who truly bears that label.”
“Ice-brother, too,” Lewa said.
“Why me?” The Ice Toa asked, sounding offended. Peki stuck her fingers in his mouth, and he removed them automatically, unconscious of the motion.
“I’m going to let you long-think on that one,” Lewa said. He closed his eyes. “If we don’t have any more guard-walks today, I’m going to sleep.”
“Naps and babysitting,” Tahu said. “We’re becoming Agori. Next thing you know, one of us will get married.”
“Probably you and Gali,” Lewa said.
“I thought you were going to sleep,” Gali said, while Tahu made a noise like an embarrassed, vengeful teakettle.
“Yes, I am. Sleep tight.” Lewa slid off of Onua’s shoulder, curling up behind the Earth Toa. “Don’t let the shield-bugs bite.”
“Goodnight,” Onua said.
“To be a true-fact, it would be ‘good afternoon’,” Lewa said.
“Do you need some assistance sleeping?” Kopaka asked. “Say, a fist to the mask?”
“Kopaka,” Pohatu said, in a tone that made Takanuva think that Tahu was right about the marriage thing.
“Oh,” Takanuva said, realizing what he needed to write about.
“What have you found, Chronicler?” Onua asked, and Lewa’s head reappeared over his shoulder.
“Present events from a Toa’s perspective,” Takanuva said. “I know what Turaga Whenua wants me to write.”
“A story about fire-brother and water-sister’s upcoming marriage?” Lewa asked.
“Lewa,” Pohatu said. “Go to sleep.”
“Well, actually,” Takanuva began, and then backpedaled at the expressions on their faces. “Uhm, not that specifically! Just how things are changing. How we’re changing, as Toa, and how we’re staying the same.”
Peki had gotten bored of poking at Kopaka’s mask, and reached for Pohatu, who took her back with the same no-thought motion that Kopaka had used earlier.
“I don’t think we’ve changed that much,” Onua said.
“That’s kind of my point,” Takanuva said.
“’Hatu,” Peki said, using her nickname for her guardian. “Play Kohli!”
“She’s definitely meant to be your child,” Gali said.
“All right,” Pohatu said, setting her down. “Who’s up for a match?”
“As long as I’m not playing against you,” Tahu said.
“’Paka too,” Peki said, and Pohatu laughed. “You might not have a choice,” he said.
“I’ll play with Lewa, then,” Tahu grumbled.
“He’s asleep,” Onua said, checking on him.
“Are you serious?”
“I’ll be on your team,” Gali told him fondly. “Takanuva, are you playing?”
“Of course,” he said, getting to his feet. It had been too long since there had been a Kohli stick in his hand—or at least, one that hadn’t been transformed into a Toa tool. He knew what he was writing now, and could come back to it.
“Taka Taka Taka,” Peki chattered at him. “Up!”
He picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh. Being a Toa wasn’t entirely translatable to parenthood—if a Toa had treated him as a Matoran the way they treated the Agori children, he would have been embarrassed and furious. It was hard to imagine any of the other Matoran he knew putting up with it, either.
But it was also hard to imagine Matoran and Toa without each other. He hadn’t missed the hurt in Kopaka’s voice when he’d asked why Turaga Nuju hadn’t told him about some of his Matoran moving.
“Okay, down,” Peki said, and took off for the Ice Toa the moment he set her on the ground. In a fashion that would have been utterly strange when they first arrived on Bara Magna, the grumpy Toa of Ice smiled to see her approaching.
Things were changing, things that had stayed the same for tens of thousands of years. In another ten thousand, who knew if there would still be Toa?
“The earth never takes what it does not give back,” Onua said, from where he was sitting among several sleeping Agori babies and one sleeping Air Toa. He was looking at Takanuva as if he could tell what Taka was thinking. “What we lose, we get in return.”
Takanuva watched Pohatu bounce a ball from one knee to the other, Peki clapping her hands in delight. The Stone Toa bounced the ball to Kopaka, who yelped and punched it with his fist in surprise. Tahu was cackling. Gali was trying hard not to laugh.
“We’ve sort of got our own family, if you think about it,” Takanuva said.
“The more things change, the more things stay the same,” Onua said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here and sleep.”
“Is that what you do while they’re all napping?” Takanuva asked, incredulous.
The Earth Toa simply smiled, and closed his eyes.
Shaking his head, Takanuva went to join the rest of his family in a game of Kohli.
#bionicle#fanfiction#uuuuhhhh is this formatted correctly#i don't know and ive been working on this too long tonight to be arsed to find out#you don't know how hard it was for me to resist just writing K/P fluff where Kopaka Gets Adopted By His Best Friend and A Toddler#actually it wasn't that hard because i DID want to write this#but i also want to write the fluff#but then i will have returned to my 13 year old self truly and i don't know if i can face that yet#dee: writing her faves with babies since 2010#just reach through the internet and punch me in the face honestly#dee's fic
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Prompto’s Home for Zombie Pets
HEY LOOK I WROTE A THING. Inspired by this post, this was incredibly self-indulgent and kind of a blast to write (and probably a bit ridiculous), and I really just love Prompto, so there's also that. If you enjoy the fic (or love Prompto, or just wanna chat) please comment/reblog to let me know! Cheers! <3
Prompto’s Home for Zombie Pets
It wasn't—he hadn't done it on purpose, the first time. The spell had been scrawled on a scrap of parchment he'd found tucked into a dog-eared tome that he'd unearthed at one of the used bookstores (he'd already forgotten which because Iggy always insisted on visiting ALL of the bookstores) without any title or description of what the spell did. And really, he should've been tipped off when it called for a blood sacrifice, but magic was fickle and unspecific and "blood sacrifice" didn't always mean something had to die, so he'd tried it, anyway, nicking his finger just enough for a couple drops.
The rush of magic was unmistakable when Prompto finished the incantation—and really, his grasp of Latin wasn't that bad, and that should've been an indication, too—so he knew it had worked. He just didn't know what exactly "it" was until the chocobo chick dragged itself into the little lean-to he'd been using as his base. It was covered in dirt and only slightly more gruesome than it had been when they'd found the poor thing, mauled and gurgling blood in its final breaths, one wing dangling by a strip of cartilage. The rest of the guys had humored him when Prompto wanted to give it a funeral and proper burial in the yard. At least it hadn't had far to go.
Well, okay. Maybe he'd known a little what the spell could entail, but he hadn't been sure it'd work. Really.
And, okay, necromancy was definitely not something he'd ever considered taking up, considering the reputation, and it was probably a little unnatural, and gross (rotted corpses, ew), but Prompto wouldn't abuse his knowledge. He definitely didn't want an undead army, and didn't have any evil ambitions. He just wanted to be with his friends and have fun, and he didn't need a zombie horde to do that—they'd probably just get in the way, anyway.
And smell. Ignis would surely complain about the mess, and the smell. Noct and Gladio probably would, too, but Ignis would have a fit.
But the baby chocobo was just…it wasn't right for its life to end like that! Without having known the wonder of the world, or the joy of friendship. It totally deserved a second chance, and Prompto was happy that he could give it one.
Except, reanimating the corpse was the extent of the spell. Of that much he was certain. No idea how to fix the physical damage—but that didn't seem to be bothering the chick, in any case—and no way to put it back, if he had even wanted to. It stared at him with eyes that were brighter than he would've expected from something that had spent time being dead, expectant, somehow, and unfazed by Prompto's typical restless motion.
Of course, since Prompto had brought it back, he couldn't do anything but take responsibility. So maybe he couldn't exactly fix the injuries, but he could bandage them so they wouldn't offend the eye (and the precariously dangling wing wouldn't fall off) and by then, well. Since there was no turning back, he had to name it.
"Necrobo." Noctis lifted an eyebrow when Prompto introduced his new companion to the group (he'd had to—Necrobo followed him everywhere; it would've been impossible to hide her), but it was followed by a small smile. Noct was like that, sometimes: quiet, accepting. Letting Prompto's chatter speak for the both of them.
"You named it Necrobo, what the hell kind of name is that?" This from Gladio, but with a name like Gladiolus, he really didn't have room to talk. Even if it was a friendly rib. Prompto scowled (though really it was more of a frown, because Prompto could never get angry enough to scowl at his friends).
"Prompto." Ah, Iggy. Prompto's scowl (frown) deepened, recognizing the careful tone, the sharp eyes flicking over his chick, calculating. "Prompto," Ignis began again, adjusting his glasses, "you have a…chocobo."
Prompto rolled his eyes. "Yeah, duh, it's a chocobo. My chocobo." He crouched down next to Necrobo, beaming up at Ignis. "Isn't she awesome?"
Another of those looks. "Is it…sanitary?" Prompto huffed, but Ignis barreled on. "I mean, if you're going to keep her, you know you have to take care of her properly. I won't be cleaning a litter box or anything, either." Ignis's expression turned skeptical. "Will she need…a litter box? Food?" Ignis cleared his throat.
Prompto gathered Necrobo in his arms and stood, so he could stare Ignis down—or at least attempt to. "You mean, because she's undead."
Ignis frowned. "I realize she looks unhealthy, but I didn't mean to imply…" Noctis's snort was unmistakable, and Gladio looked stricken.
"There's no implying anything, Ignis; I brought her back to life myself! Somehow."
"As a zombie chocobo." Noctis's voice held a hint of amusement. "That's not exactly alive, Prom."
"Necrobo," Prompto corrected. "And she doesn't seem to mind! Do you, girl?" He was rewarded with a small trill.
"I'm not even going to ask," Gladio grumbled, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll be training in the yard. Noct! Let's go!" Gladio half-dragged a protesting Noctis in the direction of the training yard, and Prompto was left to continue his Ignis stare-down.
"I won't ask, either," Ignis said finally. "But necromancy is not something to be played with, Prompto."
Prompto pouted. "It's just a baby chocobo."
It was not, in fact, just a baby chocobo.
Necrobo didn't smell, as it turned out, at least, nothing worse than the smell of damp earth, and neither did she decompose any further than when she'd emerged from her grave—for which Prompto was eternally grateful, because he imagined that would be rather terrifying, and he still didn't know how to un-undead her (not that he had any reason to find a way, once the decomposition was out of the equation). She followed him around like a familiar, and even if she did act strange at times, he liked the company. Anyway, who was he to turn someone away just because they were different? That was just rude, and he was, after all, still responsible for her.
He still didn't want a horde of undead.
Just, Prompto felt incredibly bad for the baby tonberry that Noctis hit with his car, and it was too late for a phoenix down. Noctis felt bad, too, probably even worse than Prompto, but Prompto had been distracting him from the road, so it was really more his fault than Noct's.
And, okay, Prompto had paid some attention to his lessons, and he couldn't be sure that the spell was legit unless it was repeatable. Because he really wasn't, but it really was. Repeatable.
He tried to explain that to Ignis, who stared at him with narrowed eyes when Noctis extracted the undead tonberry from Prompto's side of the car. Necrobo poked her head from behind Prompto's legs, and maybe that didn't help his case much.
"You of all people should understand, Ignis!" Prompto knew his eyes were wide as he tried to make his case. "You're the most logical person I know."
"I named him Roadkill," Noctis said, deadpan.
"Right, he's got a name! We can't give him back now, Ignis. It'd just be mean. Heartless, really."
Ignis gave him one of his measured looks. "Just be careful. However you're doing it, there's not a lot known about necromancy, and there are reasons for that. Don't do anything stupid."
Prompto waved him off. "It's fine, Iggy, it's not like I'm trying to take over the world or anything."
"This is exactly how the end of the world starts," was all Gladio had to say, although he didn't otherwise protest the addition of another undead pet in their midst.
The next time—the next few times—were truly accidents. Prompto didn't even say the incantation, just, thought it in his head. Maybe he was also picking at a scab at the same time, and bled a little, but that was totally unintentional.
It became a bit of a collection, after that: all small or baby animals, cute, if a bit gruesome, hobbling or crawling around his apartment, and at least they don't require much care, aside from Prompto's attention, which he gladly gives. Nor do they make much noise (aside from the occasional breakable, but he didn't have many of those to begin with), so the neighbors don't complain, but his apartment has begun to smell a bit like a crypt, somewhere between earthy and musty.
Noctis remained amused by the whole situation, but Prompto started hiding his new pets from Gladio after the tonberry, and from Ignis after the unmentionable incident, so Prompto's apartment became welcome to Noctis only. Which wasn't really any different from before, since they tended to congregate at Noct's or in the palace grounds, anyway.
But that didn't stop Noctis from grinning at Prompto and pointing at the dinosaur skeleton in the Lucis Museum of Natural History. "Dude!" he hissed, "Can you imagine that fitting in your apartment, Prom?"
It was a little mortifying…but also possibly the coolest thing he could imagine using his necromancy for. But, "I'm really not sure it would work for something that big, Noct." He might've once thought that a corpse would need flesh to hold it together and move it, but nope, he'd tested that, too, and had a skeletal mouse he called Bones that liked to nest in Necrobo's feathers. "Or that old," he added as an afterthought. But Noct was making faces or eyes or something at him, and he was admittedly weak in the face of that. And curious. He was also very curious.
So he tried.
And failed.
Actually, it was the first time he'd failed, and that was…disappointing. So he tried again, and then frowned at Noctis, and that turned into a whole week of museum visits, all of the ones that had dinosaur skeletons rigged up.
He was more than a little bummed that it hadn't worked, because his cheerful mask slipped, and maybe Noctis didn't notice, but he caught Gladio frowning at him, eyebrows high and concerned, and Ignis gave him one of those shoulder clasps that meant he was there if Prompto needed him without the mess of words.
But even if Noct didn't notice (which was great, really; he was supposed to be the one normal thing in the prince's life), he still had the right idea for cheering him up.
"Maybe it's because they're old," Noct muttered. "But I bet you can handle something big." He wouldn't say where they were going when Prompto got in the car, or even after his incessant babbling, but Prompto grinned when Noctis parked a short way away from the catoblepas carcass.
"Dude, no way! That thing's huge!" Prompto gaped; it was possibly even bigger than some of the dinosaurs skeletons they'd seen.
"Right? So you gonna do it or what? C'mon, Prom, wow me."
Prompto made a strangled noise, half glee and half nerves, but he was totally going to do it. He was totally going to have a pet catoblepas, and it was going to be the best. "I'm going to name you," Prompto called to the still corpse, "I'm going to name you, uhm." He stopped his brainstorm for the perfect name to concentrate on the spell and pricked his thumb, and then he couldn't think at all as it actually lurched to its feet and "HOLY SHIT NOCT IT ACTUALLY WORKED!"
"Yeah. Good job, Prom. Never doubted you." Noct patted at him absently, his eyes fixed on the thing towering over them. Not that it was threatening, just huge, and Prompto had to admit he couldn't stop staring, either.
"Uhm, Noct?" Noctis hummed a response. "That's definitely not going to fit in my apartment. Just saying."
"Nope."
"Sooooo. What am I supposed to do with it?"
Noctis shrugged. "Put it back?"
Prompto's hands flew of their own accord, gesturing wildly as he rounded on Noctis. "Just, put it back? Really? Rude! I brought it back, I can't just go and kill it again. That's just mean."
"I mean, it was already dead, right? Just undo it."
"Just undo it," Prompto muttered, "like it's really that simple."
"You can undo it, right?"
"No!"
Noctis glanced over at Prompto. "What do you mean, 'No.'"
"I mean," Prompto's voice shrank, "I don't know how."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"We should…go get Ignis." Noctis started backing towards the car.
"It'll probably follow me if I leave," Prompto sighed.
"Oh."
Prompto rolled his eyes and dug his phone out of his pocket, his stomach sinking as he tapped the screen to call Ignis. There was surely a lecture forthcoming, but maybe if he didn't tell Ignis that what he wanted to put back was a freaking catoblepas, it wouldn't be so bad.
Of course, it was Ignis, and Prompto wasn't as clever as he'd thought, because Ignis's sigh sounded put-upon even through speakerphone.
"What could be worse than the coeurl cub?" And Prompto definitely hadn't told him about that one, so he probably also knew about the others that Prompto hadn't told him about, which explained the long-suffering sigh. Well, that was a conversation for later, he decided. Immediate problems first.
But leading with 'catoblepas' sounded like an awful idea, so Prompto launched into the explanation about the dinosaurs first, to which Ignis listened with…well, not undying patience. And by the end of the explanation, even Prompto wasn't convinced whether a catoblepas was better or worse than dinosaurs, but Ignis was on his way to their location, so that was…something.
The catoblepas was lumbering around at the edge of the water when Ignis arrived, with Gladio in tow. For back-up, probably.
"So, uh, guys…we aren't just going to fight it like a daemon, are we? Cause it's not…it's not mean or evil or anything. Just undead." Prompto offered a lopsided grin, eying Gladio's bulging muscles, the displeased tilt of his mouth. Ignis just looked mildly annoyed, which on him meant he was more likely pissed.
"No." Ignis's voice was clipped, and, yeah, he was definitely angry, but he was also holding out a piece of paper to Prompto, which, what was a piece of paper going to do about an undead catoblepas?
Prompto said as much. "How's a piece of paper going to help with an undead catoblepas?"
Ignis leveled a glare at him, but it was Gladio who grit out, "Maybe you should read it and find out."
And, "Oh," it was another spell. Except this one was clearly labeled with description and everything, and it didn't so much kill the undead as release them from the magic animating them, so it sounded…pretty clean and painless. "Okay. Yeah."
Ignis's voice softened. "Anyone with magic can do it, but I thought it better if you did it yourself."
"I—yeah. It's my responsibility." Prompto looked up at the catoplebas. "Sorry, big guy." The spell was simple enough, compared to the reanimation spell, and it certainly seemed like the catoplebas didn't even notice the magic leaving it. Like hitting the undo button, and Prompto turned back to his friends, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, guys. I guess I got a little carried away."
Noctis had a crooked, guilty smirk on his lips. "I wasn't exactly helping you there."
Prompto smiled a little and pushed his shoulder. "Not you."
Ignis offered a gentle smile. "We know you Prompto. If you got any more carried away, we would've steered you right again."
Gladio clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. It's the undead I don't trust. If they ever get out of hand, I'm prepared to fight for the fate of the world."
Ignis snorted. "A chocobo and a tonberry are not going to destroy the world."
Gladio gave Ignis a scandalized look. "You say that now, but—"
Prompto's laughter cut him off. "Thanks. You guys are really the best."
"I thought I was number one," Noct protested, and Prompto swung around and pulled him into a hug.
"Yep. Number one pain in the ass."
"Hey!"
"Still," Prompto mused as they meandered towards the cars, "Is it because the dinosaurs are too old, or what? Cause it's definitely not a size thing. Inquiring minds want to know. Hypothetically. Although," he rambled, "now that I know it can be easily undone…"
Gladio looked alarmed at this. "No. Not even for a moment. No dinosaurs. No behemoths. No, nope, nada."
Ignis laughed. "I'm not surprised you couldn't get it to work on the skeletons we saw in the museum, Prompto, considering they were never alive to begin with."
Prompto and Noctis yelped in unison. "What!"
"Are you telling us dinosaurs aren't real? I don't believe you."
"They're real enough, but fossils are usually too delicate to be strung up as a skeleton like that. Usually they're kept in a vault instead. Not to mention the fact that many recovered skeletons are incomplete, so they must be reconstructed. Not that an incomplete corpse has stopped you," he added wryly.
"That's…still kind of disappointing," Prompto muttered.
"You know," Noctis confided, "there's some historical vaults in the citadel. We could look for a real skeleton."
Prompto grinned and threw his arm around Noct. "That's what I'm talking about!"
#ffxv#final fantasy xv#prompto#prompto argentum#noctis#ignis#gladio#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#writing#my writing#noctis lucis caelum#ignis scientia#gladiolus amicitia#gen fic#in which prompto is the nicest necromancer ever#really he just wants to have a pet chocobo chick#is that so much to ask#zombies#cute undead critters#necromancy#everyone is happy#no one dies
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Two Dates
Hidari Shotaro/Philip/Hino Eiji/Ankh, Hidari Shotaro/Ankh, Philip/Hino Eiji
Kamen Rider W/OOO
2500~ words. Sfw.
Philip suggests they need to change up their usual partner configuration for dating. Shotaro is not enthused about taking a grouchy bird out on a date. Like so many times before, Philip is right. This is stupidly fluffy, self-indulgent OT4 cuteness for my favorite partner combos.
In the seven or so months they had attempted at making this relationship work, they had never split off into pairs like this. Philip had chided him about not realizing they needed to do this, to fully work out that the four of them were compatible enough to make this work out.
Shotaro feels stupid for not realizing it himself, but he gets along well enough with Eiji and Philip and Ankh get along beautifully, so he never really stopped to think that they needed to switch their usual partners up a bit to make sure there were no obstacles in their path they had not become aware of yet. And even knowing that, he’s dragging his feet on this more than any person has any right to. In his defense, Ankh loves to insult him and calls him “half-boiled” even more than Philip.
For approximately the sixth time this morning, he whines pitifully and thumps his forehead down on his desk, earning a sigh from where Philip sits on their bed, reading one of his many books. Though Eiji and Ankh were supposed to have come by this morning, it’s closing in on noon and there has been no word from either of them as to why they happen to be late. Shotaro hopes nothing has happened to them at the same time he hopes something inconvenient but not dangerous to their health has come up so they have to call this whole thing off.
“For someone who was very insistent about giving this arrangement a chance, you seem very upset at the idea of spending alone time with Ankh.” Philip’s tone is dry, and he doesn’t raise his eyes from the book in front of him. “If Eiji can get along with him, then you should be fine.”
Shotaro pouts at him. “Easy for you to say, you two always get along with each other, and you would have to be an actual monster not to get along with Eiji.” He doesn’t add that, in fact, Ankh was an actual monster, or at least he had been until his time with Eiji softened him around the edges, but that doesn’t change the fact he had never been anything close to human.
The sound of a pair of bikes pulling up downstairs makes him whine louder and lean back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and wondering just how badly today could possibly go. Philip has it easy, of course, since Eiji gets along with everyone he meets, a buoyant personality giving him warmth and personality in spades, and Shotaro had been drawn to him almost since the moment they first met. It had been obvious to him that the two of them were meant to meet each other, so perfectly in sync with most of their feelings that spending time with Eiji just comes naturally to him. Ankh is… Different. Bird of flames or not, he’s frosty at best and tends to make most people back away from him with the harsh edges of his personality and the sharpness of his tongue. How Philip has managed to get through that to whoever he happens to be at his core is beyond Shotaro; he had managed it with Philip, but Philip was never as cruel as Ankh could be.
The sound of footsteps approaching their door has both Shotaro and Philip rising at the same time, Philip crossing the room in quick strides while Shotaro hangs back. It’s usually the opposite with them, but Shotaro doesn’t know how Ankh will react to seeing him as Eiji had been the one who conveyed Philip’s wishes to him, and had simply told Shotaro and Philip that Ankh was willing to try. That didn’t have to mean he was happy about it, though.
On the other hand, it’s nice to see Philip being affectionate with their new boyfriends as something as ordinary as affection had come slower to Philip. He hugs Eiji first, brushing a kiss over his lips that makes Eiji beam and bounce on the balls of his feet, and then Ankh, and Shotaro tilts his head a little to watch that, because both Philip and Ankh are striking, all hard lines and sharp contrast, but there’s a lot of beauty in their differences.
“Sorry we’re late,” Eiji says, and Shotaro finally crosses the rest of the room to pull Eiji into his own arms, nuzzling into his windswept hair fondly. “Cous Coussier was extra busy and I didn’t want to leave Chiyoko with too much work to handle just so I could go on a date, y’know? It wouldn’t be fair. And someone was supposed to let me know the time, but he was asleep.”
Ankh makes a tch noise at them and Shotaro raises an eyebrow at him; the sound reminds him so much of Wakana Sonozaki that it’s vaguely startling, and he wonders what Philip thinks of it. “I was taking a much-deserved nap. The heat is insufferable enough as it is.” Ankh doesn’t have to explain it; being a creature made of flames must make summers that much harder on him.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Shotaro picks his favorite hat off the wall, then holds out a hand. “Shall we?”
“Are we just hanging around the office?” Eiji asks after Shotaro and Philip have gone, and Philip stands back a moment to admire him, dressed in so many soft and breezy layers.
“No. I couldn’t very well demand Shotaro take initiative to take Ankh out and then expect you to stay cooped up in here with me.” Philip picks up the shoulder bag that Akiko had given him, insistent he needed somewhere to store his books on the go, and holds out his hand. “Let’s go.”
The way Eiji’s face lights up makes Philip’s heart swell. “Where are we going?” he asks.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a very good surprise, now would it?” He beckons with his fingers and Eiji finally takes him by the hand, giving his hand a squeeze as he allows Philip to lead them both out of the apartment. “Besides, I really want to surprise you if I can.”
Eiji’s big brown eyes only widen further. “What’s the occasion? What did I do to get a surprise?”
“You don’t have to do anything for a surprise,” Philip says. “I just wanted to do it for you.”
He had been debating about what he could do with Eiji that would be special for him, someone who had been all over the world and who had grown up in a life of luxury that had afforded him the ability to want for nothing for most of his life. Philip, too, had grown up more than rich enough, but most of his life was still a questionable blur to him filled in with the gaps he’s gained from reading the book about his own life. Actual memories of his childhood were gone, probably never to be regained no matter what he tried. It wasn’t quite the same for Eiji, even if he too had memories that had haunted him and shaped him into the person he is today.
He knows Futo is still unfamiliar to Eiji, which gave him a few advantages in choosing something.
“I’ve not come here with anyone but Shotaro since we dealt with my family,” he says, leading Eiji toward the front doors of the building. “This structure used to belong to them.”
Eiji blinks up at the building, then looks over at him. “It’s a museum, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Philip agrees. “My father owned it. I used to help him at excavation sites, though I remember precious few of those memories. It’s usually very strange being here.”
Of course, Eiji smiles softly at him, bringing Philip’s hand to his lips. “Why bring me here, then?”
“Because you like to travel, and you appreciate culture,” Philip says. “This place has that.”
Of course, the interior of the museum has changed greatly since the Sonozaki family owned it, and Philip can’t help but feel it’s much brighter now, much cleaner, the darkness swept away. It may be a purely mental sensation of course, given that the museum had seemed shadowy and inherently dark to him because of his associations with it. Maybe just having Eiji next to him is just one of the few ways he will ever be able to feel comfortable in this place again.
It takes Eiji approximately five seconds to start dragging Philip around by the hand, intently examining every single exhibit he can find. “This is all so cool,” he murmurs.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” And he is, he genuinely is, and he leans in to press a kiss to Eiji’s cheek in front of the T-Rex exhibit.
Eiji apparently decides that isn’t good enough because he turns his body around, giving Philip’s hand a squeeze before using his free hand to cradle Philip’s cheek and pull him in for a proper kiss. As always, Eiji’s lips are warm and soft and sweeter than they have any right to be, and he kisses with an openness and an affection that spreads warmth first through Philip’s cheeks and then down through the rest of his body. He smiles into the kiss and slides a hand into Eiji’s hair, the strands incredibly soft beneath his fingertips, taking in how eagerly Eiji kisses him, a sharp contrast to how solemn Philip always feels when he walks into this building. When Eiji pulls away, Philip has to stop himself from going with him, trying to capture his lips once again.
“I love it here. I’d love to come here with you more often.” Eiji takes both of Philip’s hands in his, pressing kisses to them. “Mostly, I just love that you brought me here. Thank you, Philip.”
Philip smiles softly, kissing the corner of Eiji’s mouth. “My pleasure.”
Across town, Shotaro was, predictably, having a much more difficult time with Ankh.
“It’s too hot to be out and about like this,” Ankh informs him for perhaps the seventh time since they left the office, stubbornly refusing to remove his leather jacket all the while even though Shotaro had pointed out leather isn’t known for being a cool fabric. “Where are we going?”
Shotaro resists the urge to roll his eyes, telling himself to focus on where Ankh has also refused to release his hand since taking it at the door. “If I told you, it would spoil the surprise.”
Ankh scowls at him but falls back into his regular moody silence, glancing around them as they walk, no doubt trying to take in as many details as he can manage. After all, he isn’t familiar with Futo in the way that Shotaro is, and though Shotaro wonders if Ankh has come to like the city, he doesn’t want to ask. He loves Futo too much to invite someone to insult his city.
What he does know is that Ankh is pleased by the wind in the city, having once told Eiji it would be perfect for flying at night when no one else can see him. Most of the pedestrians are home in bed during the late hours when Ankh takes to the skies to lose himself for just a little while.
“It had better be worth all of this heat,” Ankh finally says, scowling up at him, the wind doing its best to sweep his curls into his eyes. “Why is it so hot here during the summer anyway?”
The question is an interesting one, and Shotaro wants to ask him exactly what he means by that and where he had been prior to now where the summers were not so hot. Even then, though, Ankh does have a point. This summer has been unseasonably hot and even Shotaro feels a little uncomfortable in his button-up and vest despite wearing them every day no matter the heat.
“It’s unusually hot weather, so even I’m not sure why,” he finally responds, and though Ankh doesn’t look pleased by that answer, he nods along as though it at least makes sense to him. “I promise we’re almost there, though. Can you hold out for another ten minutes or so?”
Ankh tilts his head in that strange, not entirely human way of his, and Shotaro makes a note to study birds, to see if they move their heads in such a way. “I suppose I can try.”
In just under ten minutes, they round the street corner and stop in front of the shop Shotaro was aiming for. The ice cream parlor is easily one of his favorite little nooks in the city, and once Ankh takes a minute to read the sign and recognize the ice cream cone emblazoned on the sign, his eyes light up. It’s rare to see him smile without that self-loathing edge to the shape of his mouth.
“Ice cream,” he murmurs, and Shotaro can’t help but laugh a little at his reaction.
“The best in Futo,” he confirms. “Eiji said the heat was bothering you. Ice cream is cold.”
Ankh snorts at him. “Many things are cold. Ice cream is better than just anything cold.”
“I’ll give you that one. Come on inside and get what you want. It’s my treat,” Shotaro says.
The shop owner blinks wide eyes at Shotaro when he walks up to the counter with Ankh, their fingers still twined between their bodies, but Shotaro doesn’t offer up an explanation. Instead, he just patiently explains the differences between the ice cream on the menu to Ankh, figuring he must have just eaten whatever was in the freezer to not know this, then waits for him to order.
“Are you sure about this?” Ankh asks, suspiciously eyeing Shotaro’s wallet when he retrieves it.
“I’m sure. Give me my hand, I need it,” Shotaro says, shaking Ankh off so he can pay for them.
He knows how birds eat, knows that they usually gulp their food down in huge bites rather than picking at little bits and pieces like the expression suggests. But watching Ankh demolish one third of a banana split sundae without stopping making Shotaro’s head ache as if he’s gotten brain freeze just watching. Maybe Ankh doesn’t feel that because he’s a phoenix deep beneath his skin; Shotaro will have to inquire that to Philip, who’s starting to become an expert on them.
When Ankh looks up to see Shotaro studying him, Shotaro sees the small dollop of whipped cream on the end of his nose, no doubt a result of nearly shoving his face into his food. Instead of handing him a napkin, Shotaro stand up and leans forward just enough to piss the whipped cream off of his face, able to feel the slight aura of heat that always wraps around Ankh like a cocoon. This time, Ankh doesn’t scowl at him. He just twitches his nose before returning to his ice cream, but Shotaro still sees the flicker of a smile curl his lips before he takes another bite.
He was being ridiculous, and Philip was right, and it’s well worth the “I told you so” he’s going to get when he returns home. Worth it just to know he put a smile on Ankh’s face.
#kamen rider w#kamen rider ooo#shotaro hidari#philip#eiji hino#ankh#*f: mine#*f: kr#*f: shotaro#*f: philip#*f: eiji#*f: ankh#otp: you are my only partner#otp: we spread our wings
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