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perfectpaperbluebirds · 4 years ago

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@sicktember Prompt # 20: Doctor Visit/Checkup

Title: The Best Medicine

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post by me. (Sick doctor)

A physician leaves work miserably sick. His RN girlfriend takes care of him.

(Author’s Note: This breaks the rule I set of less than 2k words but I wrote it before I decided to do this challenge and thought it worked well here. I just needed a sick doctor having PE performed on them ok 😅)

Due to the fact that it was 6:30 AM and she was still more asleep than awake, it took her a while to realize the man she was dating was standing behind her as she waited in line for coffee. However, in her defense, she had never seen him in this coffee line at this time of day before (and she herself was here at this time every day).

It wasn't until she heard a familiar, sniffly yawning noise that she turned and caught his eye.

"Shane? What are you doing here? You're usually sleeping right now." She didn't go to greet him right away, mainly because she didn't want to lose her place in line, and only two people stood between her and caffeination.

He too looked startled, though happy to see her. "Molly, hey," he said. There was a squeaky rasp to his voice and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Had an early meeting that got cancelled at the last minute. Since I was already awake, figured I'd come into the office early and clear out my inboxes."

"Gotcha. Well cool, that means I get to treat you to coffee for once. You find a place to sit and I'll get the drinks."

He shot her a grateful look and stepped out of line.

Molly ordered, received, and paid for the coffees quickly, tipping generously, before going to join Shane. He kissed her on the cheek as he took his cup, and they shared a warm smile as they made their way to a little sitting area, sharing a bench against the wall.

"Kathy's coffee is the best in the hospital. You'll love this."

"So you've told me many times. I'm glad I finally get to try it. What did you get me?"

"A surprise. You'll like it, trust me."

"Cheers, then." With another smile, they tapped their cups together before taking long pulls of their beverages.

"This is delicious," he said after a moment. "Best I've ever had from here. Thanks, babe."

"My pleasure." They sat for a bit in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. However, Molly couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at her partner with increasing frequency. Now that she was next to him, she saw he looked quite unwell. He was pale and shivery, with a flush over his cheeks and ears, and looking overall rundown and uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual easy smile and warm, steady demeanor.

"Is everything ok, doc? You really don't look good."

"You're saying I look ugly today?" he countered teasingly, dodging the question.

She nudged him playfully. "You're just as handsome as ever. I'm saying you look sick. Are you feeling ok?"

He shrugged. "Think I'm just tired. Not used to being up so early. My head and throat are kinda sore I guess."

"Just tired, huh?" She reached out and placed her palm to his forehead, then his flushed cheeks, and finally his neck, where she could feel the swollen lymph nodes she had already seen. She clicked her tongue scoldingly.

"That's a fever, Doctor Mitchell, and a high one at that. Why in the world did you come to work today?"

"No kidding, really?" Shane leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and looking sheepish. "I can't even remember the last time I had a fever. Had to have been before medical school. Guess I forgot what it feels like."

"Hmm. Well regardless, you need to go home. You can't risk infecting your patients and staff."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now."

When he stood, she did as well, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Feel better. Get lots of rest and fluids."

"I know the drill," he rasped, smiling a little. "I am a physician."

"Sometimes I have my doubts, mister 'doesn't know what a fever feels like.' Sports medicine doesn't deal with the flu much." She kissed his shoulder fondly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away, running his thumb over her jawline. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Text me when you have time. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Will do."

She watched him go wistfully, wishing she was going with him.

Naturally he wasn't far from her thoughts for the rest of the day. The hospital OB-GYN clinic was as busy as ever, and the hustle and bustle kept Molly, an RN, quite distracted, but every moment of downtime found her wondering how Shane was doing.

She texted him a few times as he requested. The first time he replied right away, saying he had made it home safely and was relaxing on the couch. The second time he replied a few hours later, saying how tired he was and how he really was starting to feel unwell, but he was doing fine. The third time he never replied.

Her plans for the weekend had been solidified in her mind as soon as she felt how feverish he was. She practically ran out the door as soon as she clocked out. Her first stop was her house to change clothes, shower, and gather some supplies. Her second stop was Shane's favorite soup and sandwich place for two quarts of soup and two sandwiches to go. From there, she headed to Shane's condo across town.

She hadn't informed him she was coming because she had wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. Initially her plan was to leave the soup and sandwich on the stoop and ring the bell, then duck out of sight until the last minute. However, her plan changed when she caught a glimpse of him through the front door.

He was fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Bundled under two blankets and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by a nest of used tissues and dishes, he was the picture of illness.

She didn't have the heart to wake him by knocking, so instead she used her copy of his house key to let herself in quietly, being careful not to let the cold air in with her. He didn't stir even after she shut and re-locked the door. After removing her coat, she deposited the items she had brought in the kitchen, then returned to his side. Perching on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand over his face and through his hair to wake him.

He stirred weakly, mumbling and snuffling as he opened his eyes. His face lit up upon seeing her, and he quickly sat up, leaning all of his sleepy, overly-warm weight against her for a tight hug.

"Molly, you're here! I'mb so habby to see you," he croaked earnestly.

She hugged him back just as tightly. "Of course I'm here. When you stopped replying to my texts, I knew I had to come check on you. You look so sick, poor guy, and you're so stuffed up. Are you surviving?"

He shrugged, pulling away. "I guess. I'mb doi'g ok. So achy and tired. Just been sleebi'g all day." He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, which resulted in a grimace. "Budt you should go, babe. I don'dt wandt you to catch this. It's ndasty."

As if to prove his point, he turned away from her to cough productively into his elbow, thick and chesty. He followed it up with a honking nose blow that was far less productive. She watched this display sympathetically.

"I'm not leaving you all alone and sick like this. And anyway, if I do get sick, I think I know a doctor who could take care of me." She bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled wanly. "Now, have you taken any medicine recently?"

He sheepishly averted his eyes. "Umb… ndo. I… don'dt really have anythi'g to take."

"Ugh, Shane. Don't tell me you're one of those 'it only treats the symptoms' purists."

"Ndo, it's ndot thad. Like I told you, I just haven't been sigck in years. I've never thought to buy cold mbedicine."

"You're such a guy," she sighed. "Even if you are a doctor. You at least got your flu shot right?"

"Yeah. Budt they're already sayi'g it's probably ndot goi'g to be very effective this year."

"Of course they are." She sighed again. "However, I had a hunch this would happen, so I came prepared." She quickly retrieved a bag from the kitchen which rattled with medications, sitting down beside him again. She selected the ones she wanted and shook them into his hand, watching closely as he swallowed them.

"You're acti'g like you don'dt trust mbe to take care of mbyself," he teased, taking several gulps of water to chase the pills.

"That's not necessarily true. I just want to do everything possible to help you feel better."

He had to cough harshly again before he could answer, hard enough to redden his face. "I love thad you wandt to take care of mbe. Budt you should really go. I'mb so contagious right ndow, and I don'dt wandt to try to stay away from you."

"Then don't. I came here to be close to you. I don't care if I get sick. It's the weekend anyway. I'm here for you and only you. Besides, you were probably contagious yesterday too, and we still made out. So it doesn't matter anyway."

"You're too good to mbe," he mumbled, finally succumbing and leaning his full weight against her, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Budt I still don'dt approve. You're staying AMA, just so we're clear."

"Call me a rebel, then," she murmured, stroking his sweaty hair.

He sneezed suddenly, only once, but wet and laborious, catching it in his elbow. She quickly pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He took it gratefully, blowing his stopped nose as best he could before resting against her again. He sighed deeply as she resumed her petting.

"You're lugcky the desire to be taken care of when sigck is a deebply ingrained biological traidt," he continued to mumble, sounding sleepier by the second.

"I am, huh? Well you're talking an awful lot for someone who has no voice."

She felt him smile against her, but he did fall silent for a while, aside from his sniffling and soft coughing. She thought he was going back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know whad would mbake mbe feel even better thad mbedicine? Sumb soubp."

"Hmm, well it just so happens you have a girlfriend who thinks of everything." She gently shifted him off of her, going back to the kitchen and returning with a quart of soup and a sandwich.

"Sal's chigcken rice?" he rasped, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he sat up straighter.

"Naturally. We've been together almost two years. I know what you like when you're not feeling good."

"You're a lifesaver," he groaned, taking the proffered food and digging in right away.

"I'm glad you have an appetite anyway. I won't ever forget last year's stomach flu incident."

"Ugh, don'dt rembind mbe," he said with a shudder. "Bud other than thad one time, I'll always have an abbetite for this soubp. This is all I've wanted all day." He wolfed down the food with unexpected vigor.

"Well then you're lucky I think of everything, like I said. And to think you wanted to kick me out."

"I ndever *wanted* you kigck you oud. I'm just goi'g to hade mbyself whed you ged sigck," he mumbled, swallowing a mouthful.

"Maybe I won't get sick, did you think of that? And like I've been saying--" She leaned in to kiss him fully on the mouth, long and hard, until he pulled away gasping. "--I don't care. As long as you promise to take care of me if I do, I won't complain about a few days off. So stop worrying."

"Ugh, take it easy babe," he moaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This fever has mby blood flow all mbessed ub. You can'dt be usi'g your lips on mbe like thad."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to seduce you today. Unless you instigate it of course." She gave him a wicked look and he flushed.

"You're something else, Mol," he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

"Just eat your 'soob'."

He did what he was told while she tidied up his sick bed area. When he was almost done, she fetched another bag from the kitchen and began rummaging through it. He eyed the items she pulled out suspiciously.

"How much crabp did you bri'g? And whad are you doi'g ndow?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. And something I think will make you smile."

"I feel like I've been smili'g since you godt here."

It was Molly's turn to flush and smile. "Something that might make you laugh, then."

She sat close beside him on the couch with her stethoscope around her neck, placing a little tablet of paper and a pen in front of her on the table.

"Constitution:" she both said this out loud and wrote it on the paper. "Well-nourished. Unwell appearing today. Complains of malaise and myalgia. Lymphatics:"

She had been neatly writing everything down as she spoke. After the last word, she reached out to gently palate the visibly swollen lymph nodes in his neck. He moaned softly as she massaged them, the moan turning into a cough.

"Cervical lymphadenopathy noted. Lymph nodes tender to palpation." She wrote this down as well.

"Whad are you doi'g, Mol?"

"You get to be a doctor all the time. Today you're definitely the patient, so I'm taking my turn being the doctor and doing a physical exam on you. We need to make a diagnosis after all."

"Ah, of course. Mby apologies, please continue," he said with a little laugh, wiping his nose with a tissue.

"Thank you. Open your mouth please." Inserting a thermometer under his tongue, she also took his pulse with her watch as the thermometer calibrated.

"Resting heart rate is elevated at 86 bpm. Temperature is abnormal at 101.8 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I could've told you thad. I just toogk my tembp before you godt here."

"I find that hard to believe since you were sleeping when I got here. Now shh. Actually say 'ah'." She situated a tongue depressor in his mouth, peering in. "Throat erythematous and inflamed," she said and wrote. "Now lean forward a bit if you would."

He did as he was told, looking slightly put-upon and she slid the diaphragm of her stethoscope under his worn university tee shirt, placing it on his back as she listened to him breathe for a moment. "Minor ronchi noted. No crackles or rales. Minimal concern for pneumonia at this time."

"Well thad's a relief," he said, sniffling wetly.

"Shh, I still need to listen to your heart," she said, sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope around to his chest.

"Terrible beside manner. I'm leavi'g a ndegative review."

She gave him her sternest "doctor" look. He merely smiled impishly. She sighed, biting back a smile of her own, and listened again.

"Normal rhythm. L-1, L-2 heard."

Setting aside the instruments, she slid her hands under his shirt, feeling gently.

"Skin is overly warm or feverish. Abdomen is soft, non-tender and non-distended."

"You didn't have to go under mby shirt, you know. Abdominal exam cad be done over clothi'g," he said, smirking.

"I was being… thorough," she said with a wink.

He chuckled hoarsely. "Someone's godt the hots for their patiendt. Thad's trouble," he murmured, stifling a yawn as he pulled his blanket closer around himself with a shiver.

"Neurologic: grossly normal. Tremors noted due to chills. Psychiatric: patient is oriented to person, place, time. Behavior normal, but appears lethargic, fatigued and sleepy."

After writing down these final notes, she cuddled up beside him on the couch, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close as he started shivering in earnest. He nestled against her wearily.

"How did I do?" she murmured. "Did I make you laugh a little at least?"

"Very thorough and efficiendt," he mumbled sleepily, coughing. "And yes you did. Whad's your diagnosis and treadtment plan, doctor?"

"At best a severe case of rhinovirus. I'm more inclined to think influenza due to the fever, but we'll continue to monitor. No active intervention needed at this time. Bed rest at home, OTC medication as needed and adequate hydration recommended." At this she handed him his water bottle. He drank several big gulps before handing it back to her and snuggling in again.

"If that's what the doctor orders," he sniffled, closing his eyes.

She held him for a while, since that seemed to be all he wanted, just rubbing his back and stroking his hair. However, they were forced to move when Shane pulled away to break into one of his barking, painful coughing fits. He tried to settle again after the fact, making a face.

"I don't feel good, Mol," he mumbled pathetically. "This sugcks."

"I know, doc. But I'm doing everything I can to help you feel better. I didn't realize your fever was so high though," she murmured. "And that was after you took medicine. But you seemed just fine yesterday. You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

"Thad's one of the reasons you have the hots for mbe, you know id is," he croaked.

"The only thing with the hots around here is that fever. You're sweltering."

"Sorry," he mumbled, yet made no effort to move off of her. Instead he sneezed wetly into his elbow.

"Update, you're sweltering *and* gross," she said conversationally. Yet she made no effort to move away from him either, kissing his forehead instead. He yawned as she did. "And sleepy."

"Thingk I'm just sigck," he muttered.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Do you want to go back to sleep right now?"

"Ndo. Ndot while you're here. I'm too sigck to sleeb anyway."

"There's no such thing as being too sick to sleep. But if you don't want to sleep right now, I have one more present for you."

"You've already given mbe too mbuch."

"There's no such thing as that either." She carefully shifted out from under him again and attempted to head to the kitchen once more. Before she could take more than a step though, he caught her hand and made her turn around. Seeing his imploring look, she stepped back into the V of his legs. He wrapped his arms fully around her, burying his hot face in her abdomen.

"Thangk you mbuch for the soubp and mbedicine, baby. You really are a lifesaver. I just wanted to tell you thad."

She nuzzled her face into his messy hair. "Anything to help you feel better. I can tell you're still miserable though."

"Nodt miserable with you here."

"Just sick."

"Mhm," he mumbled, sleepily as ever. She let him hold her for another moment or two before speaking again.

"Seriously though, I have something else I want to give you. It'll just take a second to grab."

"Fine," he sighed. As he pulled away, she saw a hazy, pre-sneeze look cross his face. Sure enough, as she trotted to the kitchen, behind her she heard him emit a pair of messy, rough sneezes.

"That soup really got your nose going, huh?" she asked as she reentered the living room.

"Guess so," he sniffled, blowing his nose thickly. "Thad's the poindt though, right?"

"Indeed it is." She moved to the entertainment center and quickly plugged her laptop into the TV.

"Now whad are you doi'g?"

"Maybe you should stop asking questions and just wait and see."

"You know I hade surprises."

"That's not true at all in my experience, so I'm calling your bluff on that one. But you won't have to wait long for this one either way."

After a few setting changes to allow the laptop display to be projected on the TV, Molly popped a disk into the drive and started it up.

"Are we watchi'g somethi'g?"

"You and your questions." She tossed a thick DVD case into his lap. He picked it up, his eyes widening happily.

"The original Jurassic Park trilogy? Holy crabp, this is awesome!"

"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, stepping into his arms again. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I figured a sick day at home is an even better occasion."

"This is perfect, love. You're ambazing," he mumbled, squeezing her tightly.

"Anything for my best guy." She nuzzled his hair again fondly. "Anything to help you sleep."

"I don'dt wandt to sleeb while you're here though. I don'dt wandt to mbiss out on seei'g you."

"Well then you're in luck, because I'm planning on staying here all weekend. So I'll be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. No time wasted at all."

A grin split his face. "You'd do thad for mbe?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Doctors need to be looked after too, especially by their nurse girlfriends. So you stretch out and get comfortable and leave the rest to me."

"You're cooler than anadomy and dinosaurs combined, you know thad?"

Molly giggled happily. "I don't know if I'll ever come back from such high praise. You better quit while you're ahead, Dr. Mitchell."

"Only if you promise to make mbe coffee in the morni'g. Your good coffee."

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a grin and another kiss.

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 20

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watermelonlipstick · 5 years ago

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Nerves (Request)

This was my first request, and it was fun to write! Anon wanted a reader around Sam’s age whose nerves Dean mistakes for fear until he confronts her about them. Thanks for reading, and of course I would love any advice or critiques!! If you have a request, drop it in my inbox and I’ll definitely write it if I feel like I can do it justice. Just a little bit of weekend fluff.

Title: Nerves

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2715

Summary: When helping Sam’s college friend, the reader, Dean can’t figure out why she’s so scared of him.

gif from forgetthisbull

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious. Don’t be a fucking creep to her,” Sam said, shutting the door to the Impala and following his brother into a greasy spoon called Little Bavaria with white scalloped curtains.

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious,” Dean mimicked in a nasal sing-song. “And when am I ever a creep?”

Sam glared at Dean in exasperation. “Please? Just please? Can I have one friend you don’t hit on?”

“Fine! Drop it!” Dean snapped, yanking open the door and pulling his face immediately into a saccharine smile for the rosy-cheeked grandma-type standing behind a cash register that could not have been made after 1983.

“Thank you,” Sam said, obviously relieved. He scanned the room before seeing her sitting in a back booth.

You waved excitedly to Sam as he walked toward you, looking like a sun-kissed and confident man rather than the floppy haired boy you remembered.

As the brothers made their way over to you, a waitress dropped off plasticized menus and glasses of water. Sam waited for you to stand up before wrapping you in a bear hug. He smelled clean and familiar in a way that made you feel slightly lighter immediately.

“I like the new hair, it looks good on you,” he said, charming as ever.

You reflexively touched your head. “Oh! Right, I forgot that was after college. You look great!”

Sam’s smile was easy and wide as he turned to Dean. “This is my brother Dean.”

Dean raised a few fingers in a weak wave, decidedly not giving you anything Sam could construe as bedroom eyes or a flirtatious smirk. “Nice to meet you. Sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, well,” you trailed off.

“Should we sit?” Sam asked, graciously offering you an out.

After the requisite coffees and Dutch babies were ordered, Sam looked across the table angelically. “I’m really sorry this is happening,” he said, his voice smooth and soothing. It was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes, one arm slung across the booth behind Sam as he slouched back. He tried for the appearance of nonplussed neutrality. “If it’s okay with you, I think you should stick around us until we figure this out. I don’t want to leave you alone in that house,” Sam urged.

You kept the relief off your face better than you’d expected you would. You were trying to play it cool in front of Sam and his hopelessly cute older brother, but you were scared enough of going back your new house that you just repeated what they ordered, unable to focus even on the menu. As you had been doing for the last day and a half since you called, you thanked God for the small instinct to call Sam. Sam, who you hadn’t seen in a few years but was the least judgmental person you’d known in school. Somehow you knew even if he thought you were crazy he would come anyway. Now he was here, bigger and looser than you’d remembered, not making fun of or pitying the girl who thought her house was haunted, and you felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time in weeks. In a weaker moment you might’ve cried, and for that reason it was better that Sam had brought his brother. It might not have been so embarrassing to break down with an old friend, but you couldn’t ugly-cry in front of the Rebel Without A Cause at the table, all pillowy lips and long eyelashes. Distractedly you tried to remember if Dean looked this good in the two or three pictures Sam had scotch-taped to his dorm wall but couldn’t call them up. You channeled all the chill-girl energy you could muster and shrugged. “If you think that’s better, I can.”

“I do, yeah. It’s just that we don’t know what’s going on yet,” Sam offered. “If you need to get some stuff from your place, we can come with you. Right, Dean?”

“Sure,” Dean said, his tone clipped and his lips pressed tight. “Whatever Sammy wants.”

You heard a thump under the table and Dean smiled slightly more reassuringly.

Over breakfast Sam had about a hundred questions about everything you’d been up to lately. He seemed genuinely interested as you told him about the new job you’d moved here for, wanting to know more about the goofy drama between your coworkers and odd clients as though it was fascinating. You’d forgotten how much you desperately missed him until you saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and heard his laugh twinkle out over the coffee steam and powdered sugar. All the while, Dean seemed to be boring into you with those green eyes, sometimes adding a meaningless trite comment or chuckle but not genuinely engaging. You tried only partly successfully to ignore him, focusing on Sam and your food and how nice it was to feel safe.

3 cups of weak coffee after you’d finished eating, knowing you’d be jittery but not caring from the giddiness of the reunion, Dean took out his wallet and threw about double what you’d guessed the tab might be down in cash. “Should we go get your stuff?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answered, taking one last sip before getting up from the table. A look you couldn’t decipher passed between Sam and Dean so quickly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring right at them. You followed the boys out of the restaurant, feeling a very odd and fleeting moment of jealousy when Dean thanked and winked at the older woman behind the cash register, giving her a slow languid smile like warm honey. He was so pretty. As quickly as the thought had come over you, it was replaced with disgust at yourself. At a time like this, when your whole world was in chaos, you were worried about some hot guy—who clearly wasn’t into you from the way he was acting—instead of your own safety. You were still cursing yourself mentally when you slid into the back of the gigantic black car they’d arrived in.

Sam’s friend was cute. Like, really cute. Beautiful, even, and Dean was beyond annoyed that this was the one time he promised Sam he wouldn’t hit on one of his friends. Not that it seemed to matter, because she only had eyes for Sam. It was like she melted when she saw him, staring only straight at his kid brother all through the time they stayed at the breakfast spot. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was more than a little hurt, not used to being looked at with anything less than adoration by the women he wanted. What added even more salt to the wound than the way she seemed so infatuated with Sam was the way that she looked when she saw Dean. Dean peddled in monsters and the looks of attractive women, and he knew fear when he saw it. He’d spent the rest of breakfast with Sam’s comment about him being a creep running through his mind on a loop, careful not to lean too close into her or say anything less than strictly G-rated. Unfortunately, that limited him more severely than he realized it would.

When she got into the back of the Impala, she sat straight up like she was in a cotillion class, not comfortable enough even to sit normally in his car. Was Sam right? Was he a creep? Dean suddenly felt weird and predatory, like maybe the blood and guts of hunting was changing him in some irreparable way that people could sense. He tried to smile agreeably the way Sam did up at her in the rearview mirror and saw a shark reflected back at him. Looking quickly away, Dean put both hands on the wheel the way he thought someone non-threatening would.

It didn’t help that Sam thought something was off, which meant Dean wasn’t pulling off his act and maybe couldn’t even pretend like he wasn’t the kind of person who makes a beautiful girl’s eyes go wide in fear. Each time Sam had side-eyed or kicked him under the table, the point was re-emphasized. Dean was desperate to relax but worried he’d freak this poor girl out somehow, so he kept himself tightly wound as he took directions to her house.

By the time they’d finally figured out the problem—not, as you thought, that your house was haunted but that a coworker was in fact a witch trying to torment you—the three of you had gotten into a semi-comfortable rhythm. You were crashing on the couch in their motel room, carrying your toiletries into and out of the bathroom every morning like you were at sleepaway camp and trying to keep your clothes as wrinkle-free as possible while living out of a suitcase. Some parts of it were so nice; you were still just as grateful for the protection you felt as you had been in that café, and you had forgotten how comforting it was just to know there was someone else around. Other parts, however, were not. You hadn’t slept on a couch, let alone a scratchy-creaky motel one, for so many days since college, and you were remembering why. On top of that, Dean was so compelling that it felt like you expended half of your energy each day just trying to keep yourself from staring at him.

And naturally, the more you got to know him the harder it got. He was not only the pretty boy that was obvious from the first time you met, but also so kind and respectful, seeming to be very aware of the potential discomfort of immediately sleeping in the same room as a strange man and giving you a wide berth for as much privacy as possible. He even picked up coffee in the mornings before you and Sam got up, that first day getting a black coffee, a nonfat latte, and ‘whatever the coffee guy said was most popular’ because he didn’t know what you’d like. If anything, it felt almost as though he was being a bit too gentle, and you wondered if Sam had told Dean you were some kind of fragile and delicate bird that startled easily. When you’d asked Sam about it after a couple days, he just shrugged and said he hadn’t really told Dean much other than some stories from college. You decided to drop it. Maybe Dean was just like this, which made it all the harder not to develop the kind of crippling, blushing, oh-my-god-is-he-going-to-sit-next-to-me crush you hadn’t felt since middle school.

When the coworker had been ‘taken care of’—a careful answer from Dean that you chose not to pursue—you were left feeling unmoored. It wasn’t like you could go back to the now-destroyed house, or even imagine how you’d explain away the chaos of the last couple weeks to the few people you knew here. Sam seemed to pick up on it intuitively, and offered for you to come along with him and his brother until you figured out what you were going to do next. Like it had when he had driven across the country and tossed you the last life raft over the formica table at Little Bavaria, it felt like Sam was saving you. He seemed excited when you said you would, and was out grabbing sandwiches for the road while you and Dean packed up the motel room when Dean asked if he could borrow you for a minute.

You were so embarrassed at the small, cartoonish voice that agreed, sitting on the side of the bed while Dean draped himself effortlessly—God, how could he look so cool even just sitting down—over the arm of the sofa.

“I, uh, if you’re going to come on the road with us I think we should talk,” he started. Your pulse started thumping in your chest and you hoped you weren’t blushing as you raised your eyebrows, signaling for him to continue. Dean cleared his throat and fiddled with his ring before continuing. “Listen, I don’t know how much Sam told you before we met, or whatever, but I swear I’m really not that bad.”

You’d been focusing so hard on not looking desperately infatuated that you weren’t able to keep the surprise off your face. “Bad? Of course not, you’ve been amazing. You and Sam saved my life. I’m so grateful,” you sputtered.

“Right,” Dean said, looking slightly confused. “Then I’m sorry if I did something maybe, because I don’t want you to think I’m some, like, animal—”

You cut him off. “Dean, you’ve been unbelievably sweet, way above and beyond what you needed to do. I’ve felt so safe the entire time I’ve been with you guys, and now you’re letting me stay with you for even longer; I don’t know how I can repay you, seriously.”

Dean looked up at you, his confusion tinged around the edges of his eyes with something wounded. “Then why are you so scared of me? You jump whenever I come in the room, you only look at Sam, you don’t even slouch when I’m around. I know I can’t do Sam’s puppy dog eyes act, but come on, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You act like you’re waiting for me to sock you.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, realizing you didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to think with Dean’s eyelashes sweeping over his cheekbones like the most delicious metronome you’d ever seen, let alone process what he was saying. “I—Dean, I’m not scared of you,” you finally squeaked. His face didn’t change with the spark of recognition that would’ve allowed you to stop there with a soggy handful of dignity left, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself to continue. “God, this is so embarrassing,” you murmured under your breath. “Okay,” you started, hoping your voice sounded resolute and firm. “I mean, it’s just that you’re so cute, and cool, and self-assured, and I was worried I was going to do something weird or whatever, and now I guess I have anyway. I’m truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or especially feel like I wasn’t anything other than thankful for you and everything you’ve done. I’ll try to act like less of a total freak, I promise.”

You winced, waiting for the inevitable pity from this gorgeous man who must hear these proclamations from every woman he meets. Instead, Dean chuckled, which was maybe even worse. Pity you were ready for, could swallow and heal your ego from in private, but open ridicule was too much.

“Okay, well, that was fun. Sorry,” you said, smacking the tops of your legs and getting up from the bed. Dean grabbed one of your wrists as he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes.

“No, wait, sit down,” he said, smiling.

You obeyed, feeling a little lump of embarrassed tears forming in your throat but not seeing a way to extricate yourself from the room gracefully. Dean’s callused thumb swiped affectionately across the back of your hand.

“That is way better than what I thought,” he insisted. “Sam made a big deal about how I shouldn’t act like a creep to you, and it got in my head. I thought I was coming off as a total perv or something.”

His eyes locked you in like quicksand before you could answer, not pitying or withering at all as you’d thought, just soft and tender and the impossible green of a perfect matcha. “No, I’m the perv here,” you offered, attempting to make light of your shyness.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart,” Dean purred. Heat swelled up into your cheeks, and Dean brought your hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of your hand as he gazed up at you.

As you were desperately scrolling through the Rolodex in your mind for something witty to say, Sam opened the door to the motel room. You were equally and fiercely relieved and stymied as his hulking frame filled the doorway, grabbing the duffel he’d left on the tile. “You guys ready?” he asked, his smile bright and carefree.

Dean dropped your wrist and winked at you as he got up from the couch unhurriedly. “More than ready, Sammy. Let’s hit the road.”

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass, @akshi8278, @dream-believe-and-love

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester #dean one shot #spn fic #spn oneshot #spn fanfiction #dean fluff #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #dean x you #dean winchester x you #request #dean winchester oneshot #dean oneshot #supernatural

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,�� he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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fandom-star · 4 years ago

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Writer’s Tag

@its-all-ineffable tagged me to do this, but it’s a long one so I’m doing it in a different post! Thank you very much! I love doing these so much!

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How many works do you have on AO3?

164 (possibly 165 by the weekend if I post the Witcher one I finished the other day)

What's your total AO3 word count?

181468

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

It’s Okay (Merlin: Merthur) - 569 Kudos Pulchra (Night At The Museum: Jedtavius) [NSFW] - 286 Kudos A Father’s Wisdom (Merlin: Merthur: Uther-centric) - 270 Kudos Crush (MCU Spider-Man: PeterNed) - 262 Kudos Comfort Blankets For Sleepy Gods (MCU Loki Series: Lokius) - 245

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Sometimes. I try to if I’m not in a non-social mood. Mostly, if I start off on my page before reading any fic and see that I have something in my inbox and it turns out to be a comment on my fic, then I’m more likely to reply to it. Idk why it works like that. Otherwise, it’s kinda touch and go whether or not I’ll reply to something, you’ve got a 50/50 chance, but I always read and appreciate every one that I get.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

*Looks at my abundance of angst fics* There’s... a surprising amount of angst without happy endings in my repertoire. Um. I’ll give you three that I vividly remember. (All of these are Star Trek and Spones) Written In The Stars - This is one of my really early works, and was gonna have a sequel that made it have a less angsty ending, but I could never get into the rhythm of writing it. I won’t spoil it, but this is probably the only fic I’ve written where Sarek is a straight-up dick. Battlefield - As the title suggests, there’s war with no real context. And major character death. It’s sad. I genuinely made people cry with this. I am both proud and apologetic of that. Unreal - This is probably one of my more complex concepts, and I’m really proud of it. Features ooc Spock with contextual reasons I won’t spoil, defensive/protective McCoy and major character death of a sort.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending

This is kind of difficult, bc while I have excessively written angsty endings (see: above answer) I do usually write happy endings, and I can’t remember all 160 fic endings left over, and even then it’s difficult to rank them by happiest. I like Nutcase {Murdoch Mysteries: Watts-centric) a lot, oh and also Blame It On Me (Star Trek Pricard: Hughnor) which is angst with a happy ending (and has amazing art accompanying it). There are many others with happy endings, but like I said I have no idea how to rank them by “happiest”.

Do you write crossovers? If so, What is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I don’t really, but I have written one as a request that I really really enjoyed. A Good Day is ThorBruce and is set in the DS9 era of Star Trek, in which Thor is a captain and Bruce is his chief science officer. It’s really adorable and features sleepy, over-worked Bruce and a very characteristically happy Thor.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don’t think so, unless you count unsolicited advice I felt I couldn’t turn down on ff.net when I was struggling to write Uhura. I’m kind of surprised I haven’t tbh (not that I’m complaining) since I do write for some very popular fandoms and ships (although, conversely, also some very niche fandoms and ships).

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I write it but have only ever posted it thee, four times if you count the exploratory one I posted under a pseudonym that wasn’t really that smutty. I’m hoping to get the confidence up to post some of what I’ve written tho, bc I do really like hat I’ve managed to do with some of it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I’m aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I have! A lovely person found my fic 1967, which is probably one of my favourite Spones fics I’ve written, based around the UK’s decriminalisation (well, partial) of homosexuality, and traslated it into Hungarian here. I’ve not been able to check it out, due to not knowing a thing in the language (tho I could probably ask my friend to) but the translator seemed really lovely, so I trust them to have done a good job.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not something I posted, but before I even started posting fanfic, me and my best friend really randomly started writing a Star Trek TNG x Star Wars crossover whenever they were at my house. We gave up on it after about a year and never wrote much for it, but it was... it was something.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

This changes all the time with my hyperfixations! One that will always be in my heart is obviously Spones, my og ship and within my special interest. Currently I’m obsessed with The Witcher so I’ve got Geraskier on the mind but who knows when that might change!

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

In terms of fanfic I don’t really have any that I don’t think I’ll ever finish. I have an original script that I started writing months ago but only got about three scenes into and haven’t touched since bc I don’t actually have a plot for it.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue; Is situations one? That sounds like a good and fancy way of saying AUs; Finding synonyms should be one, that’s like half my search history

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description; Despite my talent of finding synonyms I feel like I do repeat words a lot; Planning and outlining, I just don’t do it - it works for me tho.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m pretty sure the only times I’ve really done it is for Jedtavius (having Oct speak in Latin occasionally) and I might have done it once or twice with Spock speaking Vulcan, both times it’s mostly terms of endearment or Oct wanting to be romantic. Idk, I don’t really care about reading dialogue in other languages as long as there’s a translation somewhere in the work or I can easily pick it up or search it. Just do whatever, it’s your writing. As long as you do it well and it makes contextual sense, I don’t really care.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Unposted: Star Trek: The Next Gen Posted: Sherlock (I actually recently reread my first ever posted fic, it’s a long haul (just over 45k), but if anyone ever wants to see a work where my writing visibly improves lemme know and I’ll email the pdf to you)

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Why would you do this to me??? I love most of my fics!!! I’m just gonna link a few here cause I’ve been doing this for an hour now and it would definitely take me an hour to choose just one! The Relationship Series - modern AU, autistic Spock (written by a self-projecting autistic writer), there’s angst spattered about but is especially prominent in part 6, I just really love this series Promises You Can’t Keep - Loki spoilers, I love this bc it’s based on “what if my finale theory was right instead of being debunked three minutes into the episode”, definitely angst with a hopeful ending I love all of my Charite At War fics, but I’m gonna link my 20 years post-canon fic Grow Old With Me and my modern AU You Give Me Your Light - both have some heavy topics (post-canon is set in 1960s East Germany, modern AU topics are tagged) but I adore both with my entire heart You’ll Never Burn - Merlin/Merthur, again kinda heavy (not as heavy as the Charite ones in my opinion) but short and everything is tagged I love all of my Babylon 5 fics but Secret Rendezvous will always have a special place in my heart. It’s very sweet and essentially follows Vir and Lennier trying to navigate coming out about their relationship to their ambassadors I also recommend all the of the fics I’ve already linked in the post ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now for the hard part - tagging!

@esperata @tallysgreatestfan @iwritesometimes @marlinspirkhall and any other writer mutuals I’ve likely forgotten but I’ve already spent WAY too long writing this post asfdhdskjdgha So I apologise, but if you wanna do it, absolutely go for it, this was so much fun and really made me realise how much I’ve achieved in 4.5 years.

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lovesbitca8 · 4 years ago

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Asks that have sat too long...

Finally clearing out my inbox from like, November.

@beau-pigzy said: Heyyy! I'm such a big fan of yours and loved your Dramione series! Thank you so much for the great and brilliant stories that you've provided for the audience (Well, Dramione fans though). Will be rooting for you! P.S. Your portray of Lucius Malfoy is such a bad ass and genius, and damn, that last chapter was a nice cherry on top. Love to reread again and again haha.

Lucius is my main squeeze.

@sri1997 said: Rereading 39 Part 1 in anticipation of Part 2 - "there's only one thing she wants from the Malfoys and he isn't here" - Isn't that the one thing we all want ? 😏😏

*raises hand*

@peachykeenqueen said: Came to your account for the Auction! Finished it right before chapter 39 was released and I’ve managed to go back a read both The Right Thing to Doo and All the Wrong Things!!I love the way you tell their stories! You’ve got me laughing, crying, and absolutley beaming and I’m so beyond excited for chapter 40!!!!

Apologies for the delay, but I’m so glad you loved it! (around chapter 40 lol)

An Anon said: AND OF COURSE YOU'RE GONNA END IT WITH THE TRIAL, JUST LIKE THIS WHOLE WONDERFUL UNIVERSE STARTED IN TRTTD. u tricky genius. I love it. I dont want it to end. I want it to end. wut have u done to me. Question: how is blaise such a good friend and where can i find me one of him. Also: where the hell did u learn to write. I want to send them a thank you note

An Anon said: one can only IMAGINE the trauma that will permeate the wizarding society, generations emotionally broken oh my goodness it hurts me 😭😭

Yep. Very similar to our Muggle histories.

An Anon said: i’ve just plowed through the rights and wrongs series and am now nervously anticipating the ending of the auction and i just wanted to tell you i am FLOORED by your writing. i’m obsessed and in awe and so grateful for your existence ❤️

❤️❤️❤️

An Anon said: Should have titled this chapter “Draco Has Some Really Great Friends Who Love Him More Than He Knows.” Don’t mind me. I’ll just be in the corner crying over these Slytherin babies.

Yessss. I love those little snakes.

An Anon said: i have complete and total faith in you 100% but how how how are you going to wrap this up in one more chapter i’m dying! i’m so excited to finally know how this ends but also so sad i’ve been on this journey now for what like a year and a half now? sunday’s won’t be the same! this chapter had me everywhere! the scene with blaise pansy and draco and the viewing and pansy trying to save hermione (for draco) broke my heart for them all they are such ride or dies i’m glad hermione is going to bat for them too. i’m glad pansy’s free, now we just need blaise and draco and oliver. i was screaming at everyone this whole chapter like “oh my god you’re all like so silly you don’t even know! blaise didn’t even do most of the things you’re trying to punish him for! tell them that he wasn’t holding gulianna as a slave and the lengths they went to to protect her!!” lmao. but i know the info has to be saved for the right time, hopefully that’s what his american lawyer is for and that fact plus bellatrix will be enough to keep him safe. “bring him home, hermione” broke me, i am ruined, i simply can’t express. i know this is a story about draco and hermione but god did you ever do a fantastic job making me care about the supporting characters i am so soft for blaise caring about draco at his own expense 🥺. anyway fantastic 39 part two i applaud you. can’t wait for the final chapter which comes just after my birthday so i’m counting it as a personal gift for me hahaha

Okay 1 - Happy Belated Birthday; and 2 - thank you for emotionally transporting me back to Chapter 40 with this Ask.

An Anon said: Me, an ASOIAF stan watching everyone go crazy over Draco and Hermione being "siblings" is hilarious AF. It's fictional incest. Why exactly are you worrying about if the baby is going to look alright? You're all worrying about the wrong thing. Anyways it is just me or them being siblings just adds spiciness to their relationship LMAO

I have also been in fandoms with that sort of “spice” so I was UNPREPARED for the “sibling-backlash” lol

@teacher-with-bad-handwriting said: I’m literally crying while reading about Blaise wanting to help get Draco home, even if it means he might have to stay in Azkaban.They had such a pure friendship in TRTTD, I’m glad they’re still ride or die in The Auction

I love bromances. I love men who are comfortable enough with themselves to let their fondness show.

An Anon said: Okay okay sorry for bothering you but when i tell you i just screamed when i saw that you uploaded the new podcast episode. Like I've been waiting for the 39 part 2 recap. And I dont know if you have an upload schedule cause i basically binged the whole auction and the podcast. Just amazing to hear how much work you put into each upload. Much love to all you three ❤❤❤

That was one of my fave episodes, so I’m glad you were looking forward to it!

An Anon said: I’m rereading ATWT in anticipation of TA ending and I just came across my favorite line in the history of fanfiction: “Fuck, we’re both such idiots. I hate us so much.” I FORGOT ABOUT THAT LINE AND IT IS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I NEEDED TO THANK YOU FOR IT.

I should change all my story synopses to just that.

An Anon said: A very random thought came to mind several months ago and has been pestering me ever since. I don't expect it will be answered in The Auction so I'm finally going to ask. How's Professor Binns? Did he even notice anything? (Also, Hogwarts was still being used as a school right? But it was also Voldy's HQ? Have I remembered/interpreted that correctly? Were there children running around Voldy's HQ?) Anyways, can't wait for the final chapter! Thank you for every single thing you do!!!

L.O.L. Professor Binns is probably still teaching, Death Eater infiltration or no. The children and classes had been moved to upper floors while Voldemort was there, but Binns just floats in, teaches, and floats out.

@rethinkthesituationnn said: I just have to say how beautifully done the Orpheus & Eurydice reference in The Auction was. That’s all. Now, I’m just going to furiously refresh until chapter 41 is posted. 🙃

Thank youuu. I probably had the most fun writing that chapter out of the last third of TA.

#The Auction

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candlelight27 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5: This Moment Lost in Time

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: BLOOD, game spoilers and felony (don’t steal, kids)

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 5143

AO3: This Moment Lost in Time

A/N: Thanks to @galamixx and their help!!! If you like this chapter, please consider commenting. My inbox is always open too, for suggestiong or just to chat! :)

You put a hesitant foot in Sylvain’s room, walking right behind him as he guided you. It was an ample space and it had a window that let the sunshine inside in the morning. The decoration was quite simple. The bed, placed under the window, was covered in white linen, and the walls were bare, without any pictures or posters. Its appearance broke your every expectation of what you had thought his room would be like.

You were surprised you couldn’t find anything that screamed ‘Sylvain lives here’, or any hint at all of his renowned affairs. You chastised yourself for thinking he’d have a box filled with panties he had stolen, or obscene magazines thrown around. He was now a close friend – perhaps something more, but your brain was trying to avoid that subject at the moment – so you’d have to stop assuming things about him. Especially regarding the high number of misconceptions you’ve had about him. Yet the truth was that you would have never suspected that he lived in such an austere manner. You began to understand how he got along with Dimitri so well.

Despite the absence of luxuries, there was something that caught your eye: the quantity of books he owned. His desk and shelves were crammed, and there were even a few piles over the floor. You identified in a glance some history titles, as well as fiction and philosophical essays. It was quite the collection for someone most people considered an airhead – a thought that made you slightly angry at those people.

“Sit wherever you want,” Sylvain commented. You sat on the bed, while he moved to take a seat on the chair in front of his desk. He carefully placed on the floor a board of chess, trying not to move any pieces. It was incomplete, with only a handful of blacks and whites. You wondered if Sylvain was trying to solve one of those problems that he used to do with Claude back in high school. Afterwards, Sylvain placed his hands behind his head and leant back. You looked around nervous, absentmindedly caressing the bed dressing with your fingertips, avoiding by all means ogling him.

“You have a nice room,” you said. This was awkward, and you didn’t know what to say. You felt once again you were invading his privacy by simply being there. And you were on his bed, where he slept. It felt very personal, and you were not sure if it was your place to be there.

“Not what you expected for someone like me, right?”, he hummed. You feared that he actually was able to read your mind after that line.

“How is Glenn?”, you changed the subject, hoping Sylvain wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, he’s fine! He’s conscious and recovering. Apparently, when he was going to work, a dog crossed the road and he crashed the car avoiding it.” Sylvain drew out a breath. “Honestly, I’m so relieved he’s alive.”

“That gives us time to proceed with our plan. But then again, Flayn is onto whatever is happening. It’s not just paranoia, there must be a clue somewhere,” you reflected.

You had a few days to come to terms with Sylvain’s crazy theories after that encounter with Flayn at the hospital. As if fate had been mocking you, you had even more visions of your classmates in times of war, which only reinforced Sylvain’s words. You started writing down the smallest details you could recall, hoping they’d be of help to clarify something. Anything. And you realised some names kept appearing time after time.

“I wanted to show you a few things,” Sylvain said. He turned around to look at the books opened on his desk. He moved a couple of volumes and used papers around until he chose one. The sound of papers being flipped frantically came from behind you. “Here it is!”

He stood up and gave it to you, waiting a minute for you to inspect it thoroughly.

“So?” He insisted. Sylvain was eager to know your opinion. “What do you think?”

“It’s…” you opened your mouth.

“Awfully familiar?”, he offered.

“Yes”, you nodded.

It was an ancient copy of Seiros’ precepts. There you could see a coloured engraving that displayed Saint Seiros, who had an eerie resemblance to Rhea, officially in charge of Garreg Mach High School and the cathedral annexed to it. Her light green hair, her bright and big eyes, her figure. Everything was exactly the same. She had a serene countenance, and she was surrounded by dragons. Once, you were taught that they represented the strength of Seiros and the four saints, but they had so many details, they looked real.

“And that’s not the only thing!” Sylvain added before you could finish examining it. He passed you another book. “This one is Linhardt’s, but he lent it to me indefinitely. He knows a lot about Saint Cethleann, he’s investigating her figure and plans to do a PhD.”

“What am I looking for?”, you asked, tracing the index with your finger.

“Look at the pictures first. There are a couple of engravings and drawings. Just look at any.”

You did as he told you. A chill ran down your spine.

“This is Flayn,” you babbled, totally astonished. “But, like, it’s clearly Flayn.”

“Yes!” Sylvain was thrilled.

“They have the same face,” you repeated. You looked at the bottom of the page, where a footnote was written, and read it out loud. “‘Saint Cethleann was said to possess a kind heart and devoted her life to helping others in need. That’s why she developed an interest in medicine, and she is the patron saint of those who practice the art of healing. She healed countless wounded in her life, sparking the faith in those who met her.’ Is this real?” He nodded, an amused expression decorating his face. He seemed entertained by your reaction. “It looks like a set up.”

“It’s weird that all the pieces fit together as we go, right?”, Sylvain agreed.

“If everything is so evident, why hasn’t anyone found out anything yet?”, you exclaimed exasperated.

“We’ve gone over that before,” he sat next to you on the bed. He crossed one of his legs and was careful not to touch you with any part of his body. After all, you were not the only one self-conscious about this meeting. He had been feeling vulnerable ever since he went all in with you – it was easy to recognise.

You wanted to tell him that it was okay to have physical contact and get close to you. And that you had similar feelings for him. But neither of you had said anything after his speech, and your conversations hadn’t got that way any other time. And now it seemed that you had lost your opportunity to give him an answer; it seemed forgotten and entombed.

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone has bigger problems. Except us, apparently”, you said ironically.

“I have plenty of problems”, he said with fake seriousness.

“Oh?”, you mocked him. “I’ve never noticed.”

“One of them is no one takes me seriously”, he smirked. You felt a pang of guilt on your stomach and averted your gaze towards the book. It was shameful to admit, but you had done it several times in the past. You didn’t know he resented it.

“I wanted to try something,” Sylvain said out loud, demanding your attention. He looked flushed, but you dismissed the thought.

That’s when you remembered his cryptic messages earlier.

Sylvain (13:25): I might have come up with a thing that can be useful 😊.

Sylvain (13:25): Come home whenever you want, I’ll be here.

He hadn’t texted you as regularly as he did during the previous days, thus when his icon popped up on the screen of your phone, your heart fluttered in your chest. Should you go right away? Should you wait? There were things unsaid between you, but you had been dying to spend time with your favourite redhead. You convinced yourself that curiosity was playing a big part in your decision, and not your own emotions, so immediately answered affirmatively to his proposition.

“Yes, you mentioned that before.” You looked at him in the eye. He was blushing, you had no doubts now. And it seemed that he was out of character, because who would have thought Sylvain would be ashamed at all flirting? “What’s wrong?”

“You might not like my methods,” he shrugged.

“Sylvain!” you sighed, annoyed. “We’re way past your mysterious phase! Just tell me!”

“No need to get mad, darling,” he laughed. Then, Sylvain coughed and recomposed himself. “I thought that maybe we could trigger memories so we can investigate them. Find a common pattern.”

“Okay.”

“What was the last thing you dreamt?” He inquired carefully. Sylvain knew that some dreams were… Unfavorable.

“That horrible nightmare where I bury an axe in your chest”, you said. It made you want to cry, just the mere mention of it. Such a brutal act, why would it have happened?

“Ah, yes. That one”, he made a disgusted gesture. “You could’ve picked a nicer one.”

“How are we going to trigger the memories?”, you questioned him.

“By touching,” Sylvain answered. You raised your eyebrows. “W-Wait, not in that way!”, he stuttered while waving his arms around, as if to clear the atmosphere. Hewas trying his best to correct his accidental innuendo. “We can hold our hands, or just bump our shoulders together? We don’t have to, of course, but–”

“Sylvain, relax. I don’t mind”, you took his hand in yours to downplay the issue. That warmth that had become familiar spread throughout your skin. “Besides, it’s a good idea. It’s worked before.”

“But it’s not working now,” Sylvain complained.

“What did you think that was going to happen? Fireworks and a narrated episode of the battle of Garreg Mach?” You mocked, while he simply smirked.

The situation made your heart fly. The light outside was fading, dying the room of orange and gold. Everything surrounding you belonged to Sylvain, and you were on his bed, holding his hand in yours. It was special. A great fluttery feeling was forming in your stomach, one that made you light in the head and giggly. You shifted your body around awkwardly, without changing your position, and his grip tightened.

You noticed the muscles in his arm flexing, and his palm becoming sweaty.

“It’s not working…”, Sylvain lamented again.

“Close your eyes. Let’s focus on that memory together,” you instructed, half hoping it would work, half hoping it would prevent him from releasing your hand.

You let your eyes close. Every sensation became sharper. His touch, his presence, his smell. Everything had a distinct scent, the detergent of his clothes, his cologne, his books. - ‘Put yourself together!’ you scolded yourself and tried to envision your memory instead of focusing on Sylvain.

The large field of Gronder; the confusion of bodies, some dead, some alive; the fresh blood; Sylvain’s horrid expression.

And, as if it was magic, it worked. You could vividly see it. The world surrounding you disappeared, and you were immersed in that moment lost in time.

The heat was suffocating, and so was the odour of burnt bodies and death. The podium where the archers had been trying to knock down the wyverns and pegasi had suddenly burned when the infantry had reached it. Many had died from all three parties: Dimitri’s, Edelgard’s and Claude’s. The flames were consuming everything on your left. Your arms stung out of tiredness, for you couldn’t even remember how long you had been there, fighting enemies.

Suddenly, you saw Sylvain. His horse was nowhere to be seen, and it saddened you. It was probably dead, too. A bad omen. You thought of the times he had insisted you rode with him, and the few times you accepted. Or when he stayed overtime to take care of the mount. You shook your head: he was now your enemy, and you had to kill him. Tears filled your eyes, and you voiced all the curses you could think of. How had everything turned into this? Where did it go wrong?

Sylvain was not aware that you were there. You traced his direction with your eyes. Was he escaping the fire? You hoped he was fleeing, but you knew him like the back of your hand. He had sworn loyalty to Dimitri and he wouldn’t leave him behind. Never. You looked far beyond.

When the realisation hit you, you started running.

He was heading towards Claude, who wasn’t riding his wyvern. Instead, he was supporting the infantry on the right flank with a sword and his bow. It was being effective in providing a much needed morale boost, but it wasn’t his brightest move. Damn him for not knowing how to keep himself safe.

Your gaze fell upon Byleth, who in this world had long hair, cuter clothes and was Jeralt’s daughter instead of his son. She had advanced more, leading the knights fighting the Adrestian forces, so she wasn’t going to save Claude, as she always did. Not this time, when she was risking her neck. You panicked, thinking about what disaster would happen if the heir to the Alliance, the only nation fighting actively against the Adrestian invasion, fell in battle.

You were almost there, axe in hand.

“Claude!”, you shouted. The Golden Deer leader realised Sylvain was about to stab him in the back, but dodged the hit just in time. Claude rolled on his side, while Sylvain’s lance got stuck in the ground.

You took advantage of this chance, arriving just a few seconds later, and with a swing of your weapon you broke the handle of his weapon in two. Moving with the momentum, your propelled the edge of the axe to Sylvain’s body. You contained your breath, wishing he would move away, that he’d escape. That you’d see him alive in the next battle, even if it meant going through another hell. Maybe you’d both survive, overcome your differences. But he didn’t move away. He stayed in place.

A lost arrow pierced your thigh. Even if you didn’t feel it at all thanks to the adrenaline pumping through your blood, it made you face reality.

Sylvain, disarmed, was on the other side of your weapon. You let go of the handle. It had cracked his armour, and his hot blood was flowing down. Sylvain fell to his knees, his face completely white.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain...” you said, as you fell backwards, unable to use your right leg due to the deep wound. He smiled but stayed completely still. Life was slowly escaping his body. You threw up on your side.

“Ignatz! Cover me!”, you heard Claude shouting. It seemed distant, while in reality he was too close. He was shouting your name, too, but your gaze was fixed on Sylvain. You couldn’t speak or move. Claude lifted you and placed you in his arms, carrying you somewhere safe. Sylvain was still alive, yet immobile. You couldn’t help thinking about him. Why was no one helping him? Is he going to die alone on the battlefield? Claude’s voice, assuring you that you were going to be alright, started to fade and his face was getting blurry…

“Are you okay!?” Sylvain was shaking your shoulder. You were laid down on his bed and he was above you.

“Yes”, you answered, eyes open wide. You got up, and you returned to the position you had been in before on Sylvain’s bed. “What happened?”

“You’ve been gone for 5 minutes. As in, eyes opened, not responding to anything. I was about to call an ambulance.” Sylvain inspected you closely, quite worried. You could sense his breath on your skin.

“I’m fine”, you whispered, still a bit disoriented and dizzy.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Sylvain,” you called his name, his hand still on your shoulder. “What happened after you killed me? Did you see that?” Why did you want to know?

“Ah, yes. Ferdinand killed me afterwards”, he groaned. “He was avenging your death…”

“Typical of him. I’ll make sure to thank him, though. It was very thoughtful,” you joked. “What about Claude? And Dimitri?”

“They were dead too. Fallen in combat,” he said with an unsure voice. “Edelgard was the one reigning after that, or so I’ve thought. It makes sense.”

“I recall professor Byleth there, behind me. He was fighting side by side with Edelgard. They must have won.” You agreed with a gesture. “What about when we married? Was Byleth there?”

“Yes. Next to Dimitri. I think they got married too. That time, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus got the victory.” He crossed his arms, but his leg was touching yours. “What are you implying?”

“I killed you to protect Claude”, you started. The redhead knitted his brows.

“We already know that,” Sylvain commented, annoyed.

“Why are you so irritated?” You got confused why he was hasty upon mentioning Claude, until a certain thought crossed your mind.

“No reason, just that the last thing I got to see was you in the arms of Claude.” He sighed. A smile found its way on your lips, an eyebrow raising.

“Are you jealous?” You teased him.

“Then, you got together with Claude after that. He commented something once about it,” Sylvain continued, ignoring your question. “Okay, keep going. What are you trying to say?”

“The war is between the three countries of the continent of Fódlan. And the respective leaders of each are, coincidentally, the leaders of each House at Garreg Mach – former monastery, currently a high school.” He nodded, prompting you to carry on. “When I killed you, Claude was the winner. The other countries fell and the Alliance took over. And Byleth was at his side. The same happened with Edelgard and Dimitri respectively, right? So that might indicate that Byleth is the deciding piece of the board. Depending on what side he-”, you remembered how Byleth had different appearances, “-He, she, or they pick, the events change and makes their side win the war and, ultimately, take control of Fódlan.”

“And how did that occur to you?”, he looked concerned. “It’s plausible. I’m not questioning you, but it’s quite twisted.”

“Because they are the only thing that actually changes in the war. Everything seems the same until Byleth arrives.”

“Well, you changed from Houses all the time,” Sylvain pointed out.

“Every time, to join Byleth’s class. Don’t you see it?” You tried to convince him.

“It seems logical to think that Byleth has something to do with it but we can’t be sure…”

“It’s a hunch, Sylvain,” you explained. “I’m sure we have to talk to Byleth. We will find something. This time, when I saw Byleth fighting, something clicked.”

Sylvain hugged you without a warning. He buried his head on the crook of your neck and enclosed you in his arms. Your hands rested against his chest, you trapped and unable to make a single move. The warmth surrounding you felt so warm, so comforting. Everything was going to be okay, Sylvain was there, and he won’t be gone this time.

“I’m scared that this will lead to a dead-end street. But… at last we’ve found a clue. I’ve been waiting for this forever…” He said with a strained tone. Sylvain’s voice was quiet. He didn’t want to let you go.

“It’s thanks to all your work, Sylvain. Everything you wrote was very useful…” You smiled, leaning into his embrace, almost melting. “You had noticed too Byleth was an important factor–”

“I’m just really happy you’re here with me. That you haven’t chosen Claude or Edelgard over me this time.” He chuckled, trying to shoo away the remainders of sadness. “Not gonna lie here, I’m extremely happy you didn’t choose Claude. That bastard.”

“Hey,” you reprimanded him. “Claude is nice. It’s not his fault we’re in this mess.”

“Well, he took you away from me once”, Sylvain said as he hugged you closer. “Have I told you that you married him?”

“What did you want me to do? You were dead!” You chuckled. It was weird to talk so lightly about it, but Sylvain became more comfortable the less relevant it felt. “This feels nice…”, you muttered, turning your face to kiss the top of his head. His red hair was soft, and it smelt of citrus. “So now we’re on hugging terms?”

“Yes”, Sylvain affirmed. “I might never let you go now that we crossed that line.”

“I wouldn’t mind…”

But a loud gasp resounded behind you. The tender moment that you wished would last forever was suddenly replaced with surprise.

“I’m so sorry Sylvain!” A voice shouted, someone that you identified as Dimitri. He closed the door with a slam.

Sylvain moved away, averting his eyes. His cheeks were blushing, and your own were warm too.

“I’m going to explain to Dimitri that we weren’t doing anything weird, okay?”, he scratched his head, again, and you recognised it as a gesture he made when he felt awkward. Little by little, you had been learning his non-verbal language. “I don’t want him traumatized for all his life.” You giggled.

“Does it make you nervous that Dimitri thinks we’re banging? He only saw us hugging,” You questioned daringly.

“Shut up”, he flashed his handsome smile. Flirting was an art he had mastered, and he felt confident with it. “And say that you’re staying for dinner, instead.”

“Not if you’re cooking instant noodles, Sylvain”, you narrowed your eyes. “That’s not a real dinner. You won’t trick me – I’ve seen all the packages in the cupboards.”

“First, we’re in college, and everything’s valid.” He stood up with a flourish. “Second, Dimitri had gone to the supermarket, so he’s the one cooking. It relaxes him.”

“Okay, he cooks real food. I’m staying then.”

“Perfect.” Sylvain winked, as he ran out of the room. His voice could be heard all over the apartment, and Dimitri was still stuttering. You smiled to yourself and took out your phone and opened the app to write an email.

[From: YOU - To: [email protected]]

Dear Professor Eisner,

I hope everything is fine.

Sylvain Jose Gautier and I are having a few questions regarding the bibliography of our project. We’d like to meet you next week to settle the matter and discuss some work.

Thank you very much.

“I’ve never skipped classes legally before”, commented Sylvain casually.

You two were navigating the corridors of the building where teachers had their offices. Everything was dull and generic, except for the occasional cabinets that displayed trophies and nameplates that students and professors had earned long ago.

“That’s why you were in detention all the time”, you reminded him.

“It was intentional. I wanted to strengthen my relationship with Seteth”, he said, laughing. You had to give in and laugh too, not only because he was actually funny, but because his humour was contagious. You couldn’t help but mirror it.

You eyed him from head to toe. Your companion was wearing a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. He had a dark-grey, almost black blazer with rolled up sleeves on due to the chilliness in the air. His attire rang a bell.

“Why are you dressing like we did in the Monastery?” You wondered out loud to him.

“Because I’m pretty hot in black and white”, Sylvain chuckled in delight with a deep and sexy tone. He was right. You could outline with a glance his body, which was pretty well built. Of course, you did everything you could to deny it, so you put on your best deadpan face. “Okay, okay. I think it might make Byleth nervous.”

“Now that’s a joke,” you remarked. “Byleth barely showed any emotion during a war. Do you think it takes so little to irk him?”

“You might be right,” he conceded.

“Here!” You grabbed Sylvain’s sleeve, bringing him back after he walked past the correct door.

“The nameplate says Dr. Gloucester. Do you need your eyes checked?” Sylvain emphasized.

“Dr. Gloucester retired, and they gave his office to Byleth. He told us the first day! What were you doing?”

“Okay, okay,” he rolled his light brown eyes. “You knock.”

“What are you? Five?” You said while hitting the door with your knuckles.

“Come in,” Byleth’s voice came from the interior of the office.

You opened the door to see your professor encircled by lots of papers. No one can escape bureaucracy.

You stopped in the middle of the room. Right then, you felt an extraordinary sense of existence. As if all the years that had passed before your adventures with Sylvain were but a mere dream and your consciousness had come back to you a few weeks ago. You were sure that Byleth’s presence was having its own influence on you, now that you had regained a good number of your forgotten memories. There was a strange energy in the atmosphere.

Now that you considered it, this was just like that sweet time you spent at Garreg Mach Monastery. Wandering around to avoid boredom with Sylvain and finding much more than just entertainment, following Byleth around to ask all kinds of questions, spending the big seasonal events with your friends… That was what happiness looked like to you.

“You can take a seat,” Byleth said.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” You muttered. Sylvain was next to you in those uncomfortable iron chairs your university loved buying.

“What can I help you with?” He asked, ever so willing to help, yet enigmatic.

“Ah, we have a basic bibliography for the Crescent Moon War, but we’re lacking a few good articles in Loog’s biography”, Sylvain started, replaying the topics you had agreed on. “We don’t know if the authors are reliable.”

“I can take a look at those names”, Byleth smiled. “And I have a few books you could use.”

“That’d be great!”, you cheered with a fake façade. You had to admit, it was quite fun to play spies.

“They’re on that bookcase”, your professor pointed at the one right on your side. You stood up and started looking around.

“I had a question on Klaus I, that king of Faerghus, as well. What was the role he played in…”, Sylvain asked, so serious and well versed in the matter.

You disconnected from the conversation, turning to read the titles on the wall. You took a thick, blue book filled with dust, pretending it caught your interest. Then another black volume, with leather covers and golden letters. You kept investigating, about the Almyran invasion; the formation of the Academy of Garreg Mach, the base of your own high school; history of the Adrestian Empire… Nothing past the year 1000. It was quite suspicious.

You turned around, and Byleth was drawing a diagram for a focused Sylvain, who was all nods and questions. They couldn’t see you anymore, or at least it seemed so. Out of the corner of your eye, on the closest end of the professor’s large mahogany desk, you saw a bunch of letters. Discreetly, you looked up the sender. Curly letters with the address of Rhea were written there, right from the Cathedral.

You made sure Byleth’s vision was blocked by a stack of folders. With decision and a steady hand, you took the most recent one and hid it under your clothes. Desperate situations call for desperate measures, right? Besides, it wasn’t exactly stealing, and you had already made an excuse. ‘It got misplaced when I took the books you lent me, professor,’ you heard yourself say in your head.

“Is there anything else you need?” Byleth said, when his discussion with Sylvain was done. He clearly intended for you to leave, as it was getting late.

“No, we were going away now,” Sylvain confirmed, walking towards the door. You followed him. Yet you grew bold.

“Can I ask just one more thing?” You said to the professor right before exiting.

“Of course.” The man with the dark blue hair.

“I can’t seem to find how the Crescent Moon War influenced the later war of 1180,” you stated.

Byleth remained silent for a moment. His jaw tensed. Your heart pounded. Did you catch him?

“That’s because there wasn’t any war that year,” Byleth responded. His demeanour was calm and serious as ever. Had he been practicing?

“Oh, really?” You tried to sound candid, feigning surprise. “I’m really bad with dates! That must be it!”

“You might have confused a couple of battles with a war. The battle took place around that year, but there wasn’t any declaration of war made” Byleth declared with a tense smile.

“Sorry for the trouble!” You exclaimed at last, urging Sylvain to go out with your elbow.

You closed the door behind you, and walked fast to distance yourself from any of the offices.

“What was that?” Sylvain was shocked.

“Wait until we get out of here,” You begged.

Once you were on the common grounds of the student buildings, you stopped Sylvain. There was nobody around, as they were still in class. The ginger plopped himself on a bench.

“That was a good shot, but you were right”, he shrugged. “Byleth’s cold blood won’t make it easy. You were right, he’s special, I could feel a kind of connection… But we got nothing out of this…”

“I might have something”, you looked at him intently.

“On the books he gave you?”, he tilted his head. “Because I have revised all the library and –”

You took the opened letter out of your blouse. The silver details shone under the light.

“What the hell!”, Sylvain shouted. You shushed him, making desperate gestures with your arms to keep him from attracting any attention. You were paranoid, even though you were alone. Instead of any logical reaction, he had a fit of laughter.

“What?” You asked, irked.

“I thought you were physically incapable of anything remotely wrong in a moral sense!” He kept laughing, despite your attempts to quiet him down. “Why did you take it? Another hunch?”

“If you don’t get caught, you don’t get punished”, you said in a sarcastic tone.

“I knew it! You’re just as bad as me!” Sylvain was delighted.

“I might be,” You admitted because, well, he was right. Stealing the mail was a serious crime. But you took a small comfort in the pride and surprise Sylvain made you feel. You were no longer your dull, old self, that went on with the flow of events. No, you had a goal – multiple goals, in fact – and you were going to be an active participant in your life.

In that moment you wanted to kiss Sylvain again. But you had other priorities.

“Are we going to read this or not?” You dared him.

“Don’t ask me twice.”

#sylvain x reader #sylvain jose gautier #sylvain jose gautier x reader #fe3h fanfiction #fe3h fanfic #sylvain gautier #fire emblem three houses fanfiction

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

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Dreamers in Fantasyland - Part 1

*SCREECHES IN UNADULTERATED PAIN*

Ahem, anyway. Hello! Why am I starting a new series you say? Well because this was requested by the woderful @theatergirl06, who requested Parrlyn and KatAnna with lots of romantic rescuing. You have no idea what you’re in for with this series. Anyway, this is going to be four parts long and I’ve already written everything, so parts will come out whenever I have no other content to post. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I wrote this at 4 AM.

(You’re all about to be very confused with this series. Even I don’t know why this exists....)

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of nausea and feeling sick

When Cathy Parr woke up, she expected to be in bed with her girlfriend Anne Boleyn. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she was immediately greeted with unfamiliar surroundings and unfamiliar sounds. Primarily, the heavy snoring of her girlfriend was gone, replaced with the quiet inhales of whoever was in bed next to her.

Rolling over, Cathy was even further surprised when she almost fell off the bed and onto the floor. Apparently this was a single bed, unlike the one she and Anne shared, and her companion was on a separate bed on the opposite side of the room. The sheets of her bed were coarse and rough, the bed itself barely held a foot off the ground. “What is this?” Cathy mumbled to herself, taking in the room. It was frightening how similar it looked to the peasant houses during Henry’s reign.

With the pottery along shelves and brown walls, this was either a really good model for a renaissance fair or - “Cathy, you’re awake!” Came the voice of the other person in the room.

Although her English accent was thicker than Cathy remembered, she instantly recognized Kat’s voice. “Kat?” she rubbed her eyes, hoping that the peasant home would fade away and she would wake up in Kat’s room. When nothing changed, Cathy asked, “Where are we?”

Giggling, Kat threw the blankets off her bed and made her way over to Cathy. Kat still retained the childish glint in her eyes, but she was more refined than Cathy remembered her. She no longer slouched when moving, but kept a perfect posture and a dazzling smile. “Well I’d hoped you would recognize your own house, but you did take quite a fall last night.” Cathy’s mind was spinning, unable to grasp what Kat was telling her.

“This is my house?” Cathy couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at how dirty and beat up it looked. “What’s going on?” A dull headache had begun to throb in the back of Cathy’s skull, distracting her from her new world.

Without any real concern, Kat titled her head to the side. “You snuck me out of the palace last night, remember? I was hoping no one would notice a noble girl and her servant missing, so we escaped right under their noses!” she grew excited from just telling the story. “While we were running through the docks, you were tripped up by a drunk sailor and you hit your head in a nasty way. You said you were fine, but maybe something got knocked around up there,” she pointed to Cathy’s skull.

“Wait wait wait,” Cathy put her hand up. “I’m your servant?” This was a lot to handle, and Cathy needed a basic idea of how things worked in this strange, foreign world.

Playfully punching Cathy’s arm, Kat replied, “Only by official terms. We’ve been friends for so long, I can’t even remember a time when I considered you a servant and not a friend. Father doesn’t approve of our friendship, but he doesn’t have control over us.” Flipping her hands, Cathy stared at her dark skin. Was that why Kat’s father didn’t like her? This body she was in was similar (although minorly different) to her modern body and felt distinctly different from her Tudor body. This was clearly wrong.

A sickening feeling overcame Cathy and she put her hands against her stomach. Gagging, she leaned over as if she was going to vomit. “Cathy?” Kat frantically leaned next to her. “Are you sick? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No Kat,” Cathy stayed hunched over, waiting for the pain to pass. It took a few moments, but the feeling faded. It must’ve been something to do with adjusting to her body and this new reality.

The noble girl bit her lip but didn’t move from beside her friend. “I hope you aren’t too unwell. We have to be back to the palace soon for the banquet celebrating Princess Mary’s return to court.”

Freezing, Cathy lifted her head to stare at Kat. “Princess Mary? Kat… who are the Queen and King?”

Kat must have assumed Cathy’s fall was causing her to act so confused, because she didn’t comment on the absurdity of the question. “King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth! Their beautiful daughter Mary is set to inherit the throne. The King thinks she’ll make a wonderful ruler one day.”

This… was not the history Cathy remembered. In fact, King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth had died long before Cathy and Kat were even born. And Edward V was supposed to succeed Edward IV, not Mary. What did this mean? “Kat, what year is it?”

Without missing a beat, Kat answered, “1465.”

This couldn’t be real. Cathy couldn’t accept that this was reality. She and Kat were alive in the past - as impossible as it sounded - but they weren’t their past selves. Kat was only a couple years younger than Cathy herself, not the early teens queen that she had been in the past. She had all her memories of the present - future? Cathy didn’t know, but she remembered the 21st century and her newfound family. Cathy remembered her girlfriend, Kat’s cousin, who she wanted nothing more than to be with right now.

But instead, Cathy was walking beside Kat as they made their way to the banquet hall where Princess Mary would be arriving. She and Kat shouldn’t even be alive during this time period, and it felt wrong to be in these halls. But Cathy kept her mouth shut and stayed beside Kat as they passed nobles she could not name. “Jane!” Kat called, running past Cathy to the woman in question.

Jane was strikingly different yet exactly as Cathy knew her as. Her blonde hair was the gone, now a wavy brown, but her loving eyes still sparkled whenever she saw Kat. The way she walked and held herself was identical to her future self, Cathy noted silently. Kat hurled herself into the woman’s arms, practically toppling her in place. “Hello Kat,” she ran a hand through the girl’s hair. “Awfully excited today?”

Pulling away, Kat bounced on her feet. “Yes! I have a wonderful gift for Mary, and I can’t wait to surprise her with it.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful dear,” Jane replied, smoothing out Kat’s rumpled dress. Cathy put a hand to her forehead, the throbbing momentarily returning. Something about what Kat had said didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t place it, not with the pain in her skull. “Cathy, are you alright?” Jane reached a hand out but didn’t touch Cathy.

“She hit her head last night,” Kat explained. “Cathy can barely remember anything.”

It was strange how Jane didn’t seem bothered by this information at all. “Well, I’m Jane, one of the Queen’s maids of honor. I used to work at a famous pub on the Isle of Wights before I was lifted into court. I look after Kat while her father is away on business.”

Taking in the information, Cathy tried to hide her utmost confusion. This wasn’t the past. This was the future but… they were in the past? All of it was making Cathy’s head spin. “I remember you, Jane,” Cathy said as vaguely as possible. She wasn’t lying, and this way she could convince the two other queens - could she call them that? - that she was okay.

“That’s progress!” Kat cheered as if Cathy was a complete amnesiac.

Listening to the drunk calls of courtiers in the banquet hall, Jane sighed. “I’m going to have to leave you two and check up on the kitchens. The queen instructed me to keep an eye out for anyone stealing food. Things have been disappearing all over the palace recently, and she fears the thief will head for the food stores next.”

“While Princess Mary is visiting?” Kat questioned. “Wouldn’t they try to steal her jewels instead? It’s a much bigger prize than some bread.”

Jane shook her head. “It’s not my place to question the Queen.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy Kat who waved at Jane as she left the pair to go find the kitchens. Cathy watched her go, suddenly feeling empty without the third queen with them. Jane had always provided stability, something she still retained in this world, and it was something Cathy needed to latch onto as the world spun around her.

Kat grabbed her arm and pulled Cathy past the banquet hall and through the palace. “Kat, where are we going?” Cathy asked, noticing how guards became fewer and far between as they traversed the halls.

“Ssh,” Kat shushed her friend. Stopping in front of a door, Kat pushed it open and stumbled inside. “This is the common room for servants. You won’t remember, but we discovered a hidden panel that leads directly to the royal chambers!”

Frowning, Cathy observed the plain room. “So we’re the thieves Jane was talking about?”

“What? No,” Kat seemed horrified at the idea. “I would never steal from the royal family. And you never liked using the passage, so I don’t think you’re the thief.”

Balancing herself on the wall, Cathy felt another dizzy spell come on. This one was shorter, a sign that she was adjusting, and it passed quickly. “So why are we down here Kat?”

“Oh.” Kat moved across the room to the far end of one of the walls. She started fidgeting with a loose panel of the wall until it came off, revealing a dark hall. “Remember when I said I have a surprise gift for Princess Mary?”

“I might not remember much but that was five minutes ago, Kat,” Cathy rolled her eyes.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Kat gestured to the passage. “Well I’m going to hide it in her room. We sneak into her bedchambers and hide the gift with a letter from you. With my stealth and your writing skills, it will be the best thing she’s ever seen!”

Kat seemed far too enthusiastic for breaking and entering, but Cathy let it go. What was the worst that could happen?

“Have you finished with the letter?” Kat was pacing around Mary’s room, poking at all the different antiques and riches spread about.

Glancing down at the blank page in front of her, Cathy nervously replied, “Uh, almost done.” Kat made a grunt of acknowledgement and continued to pace. “What did you get Mary?” Cathy asked in order to distract herself from her inability to write. Part of Cathy knew she could write the letter easily, but something was stalling her from actually putting her quill against the paper. It only served to keep them in the room for longer than was necessary as Cathy’s frustration grew.

Pulling out a small satchel, Kat revealed the gift to Cathy. It was a beautiful glass swan with a black pearl that served as the eye of the swan. “It’s beautiful,” Cathy murmured, staring at the miniature sculpture.

Smiling fondly, Kat nodded. “It was my mother’s. I hope Mary will enjoy it as much as I did.”

Recoiling from the swan in surprise, Cathy watched Kat with an open mouth. “This was your mother’s and you’re just going to give it away to the princess?”

“She needs a gift,” Kat scuffed her foot against the flooring. “The King requests jewels, and this is the only thing of value I have.”

Hatred filled Cathy’s chest as she was reminded of the ways of the English Court. How subjects of the King were forced to give up their greatest possessions only for the royal family to discard them amongst countless other ‘worthless’ items. But Kat didn’t know any better. So Cathy didn’t say anything. She returned to her letter, forcing her hand to put a small splotch of ink on the parchment. A gasp from Kat pulled her attention away once again. The girl had opened Mary’s trunk and was admiring the princess’s many gowns. When Kat started to reach into the trunk, Cathy stood up. “Kat,” she warned.

The wonderment in Kat’s eyes almost won the writer over. She was pleading with her gaze, and it was working on Cathy without her permission. “One dress? Please?”

Relenting, Cathy nodded. “You can try on one dress. Then we leave and return to the banquet hall.”

“Thank you!” Kat beamed. Cathy turned away so she could offer Kat a small form of privacy. She stared at the letter and continued to procrastinate actually putting something on the page. Why wouldn’t her hand just write the words? Quicker than she would’ve liked, Kat spoke up, “Cathy, do I look like a princess?”

Spinning around in her chair, Cathy couldn’t help herself from going slack-jawed. Her friend looked exactly as Cathy remembered her during her reign as Queen of England. It was a horrible sense of nostalgia, and Cathy felt pains in her heart from seeing Kat dressed up. “Cathy, are you alright?” Kat stepped forward, concerned with her friend’s silence.

“I’m fine, just,” Cathy steadied her voice, “change back into your clothes before someone finds you.”

Kat’s youthful glee was gone, replaced with worry for Cathy. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” Cathy murmured. Kat stepped away, but before she could change out of her clothes, there was a knocking on the door. The two girls shared a terrified glance before Cathy started to improvise. “Pretend you’re the princess,” she ordered Kat.

“What?” Kat was against the idea.

“You’re dressed up as the Princess, you pretend to be her!”

Panicking when another knock came, Kat lowered her voice and spoke haughtily. “I’m indecent, come back another time.” Then she turned to Cathy and asked, “Did that sound like Mary?”

Without any actual way of knowing, Cathy gave her two thumbs up and whispered, “Couldn’t even tell you two apart.”

And then the door came crashing open, a woman in britches running in sword first. Kat screamed and launched herself at Cathy, grabbing her friend and holding her tight. The two of them backed up against the wall as the swordswoman approached them. The door swung shut behind her, shutting them in.

Cathy’s head darted to the side when she heard the window click open and another swordswoman climb through it. Once the woman was inside, she turned her back to Cathy and locked the window, obscuring her face. But when she turned around, Cathy cursed herself for not recognizing either of the women earlier. “Anne? Anna?” she asked, holding Kat against her chest.

Anne Squared, like Jane and Kat, were creepily akin to their 21st century selves. The biggest difference for Anna was that she was younger than her modern self. Barely twenty one, Cathy guessed, but she had the hardened eyes of someone who had been doing this for a long time. Anna’s skin was thick and dark, matched with the familiar air of self confidence she always had. Her outfit was a mismatch of a cheap red tunic and black slacks that complimented her fierce eyes. Her sword was sharp and threatening, but Cathy couldn’t picture her actually hurting someone with it.

“How do you know our names?” demanded Anne, stalking forward and pulling out the second sword on Anna’s belt. She pointed it at Cathy’s throat and spit at the ground. Anne’s voice was huskier than Cathy was used to, and it sent her for a loop. Her not-girlfriend was wearing a mostly black outfit, her belt and hat colored with her signature green. It was unnerving how similar yet different this Anne was to the Anne that Cathy was used to. “Eh?” Anne pushed, taking a step closer.

Hugging Kat closer, Cathy struggled for an answer. “You remind me of someone I know,” she offered lamely, hoping they would buy it.

For whatever reason, Anne chose not to push it. “Well it doesn’t matter, you’re coming with us.”

“What?” Kat poked her head out from under Cathy’s arm. “Are you kidnapping us?”

“That’s indeed what we’re doing,” Anna smirked at Kat, causing the girl to once again bury her head in Cathy’s chest. Holding her friend, Cathy tried to offer her a feeling of safety. She knew Anne and Anna would never hurt them, but Kat didn’t know that.

“Princess Mary,” Anne addressed Kat, “and her…” Anne looked Cathy up and down in a way that made her want to slap the girl that was supposed to be her girlfriend, “strange, yet beautiful servant.” Anne winked, “You’ll do quite well for ransom.”

By the way Kat froze in Cathy’s arms, she could tell they both realized their mistake. “I’m not Prince-” Kat started, but Anna cut her off.

“Please don’t make me hurt that pretty mouth of yours,” Anna waved her sword in a circle. “You two come quietly and no one gets hurt.”

Glancing down at Kat and then at the two swords pointing at her face, Cathy made the decision for them. “Okay.”

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster

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ladykatibeth · 5 years ago

Text

“Missing”

Fandom: Sander Sides

Rating: Teen for swearing

Summary:The crown prince of the kingdoms goes on a quest to find his brother, meanwhile a famers kid meets up with a friend.

A/N: Will be continued,if you want to feel free to ask questions about the characters! I have my inbox open. Feel free to reblog.

Remus was Missing.

Remus was missing and Roman didn’t know where he was. Remus was missing, and he was gone for good this time, and Roman didn’t know what to do.

Remus was missing--his twin was missing. His twin was missing, Remus was--

Roman should have done something, noticed sooner. Or even noticed at all. Remus had always been loud, obnoxiously loud, Roman had remarked a couple of times. Remus had been a bit quieter than usual, the past week. But Remus had always had his ups and downs, despite what it might have seemed Remus couldn’t keep up his high energy forever. Every once in a while he ended up crashing.

Roman should have known though. Should have picked it out. Should have noticed. But he had been so busy last week. Well, busier than usual. There's always lessons, boring parties where adults talked about stupid things, and other such duties. But that week he had been preparing to do a speech, anxiously prepping and preparing. He had been so stressed, being crown prince was no easy task, honestly sometimes he just wanted to get away.

Maybe that's why Remus left.

Maybe--

Roman could feel his breath hitch in his throat, his eyes were wet, why was he crying? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Roman felt a hand on his shoulder. He tensed as he suddenly remembered where he was. His hands were gripping the bed. The breath slowly returned to his lungs, maybe he had been cursed. Cursed by some breath stealing fairy. That would actually be a good idea for a story, he’d have to return to that later.

“Roman?” Right. Later. He looked up to see Logan looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face. Roman could almost find it in himself to smile. Logan would know what to do. Logan always knew what to do.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I'm okay?” Roman threw his arms around, nearly hitting Logan, who had started to sit down next to Roman.

Logan frowned. “I don't understand, you and I both know disappearing is not out of the realm of your brother's usual behavior. He runs off somewhere, every third week.” His frown deepened. “You both do, actually, no matter how hard I try to stop you.”

Logan had become Roman and Remus’s court companion, by nature of being literally the only other child that lived in the castle. The title wasn't exactly official, but that's what everyone had taken to calling him, almost affectionately. And Logan did the job as best as he could. Making sure neither one of them got themselves killed.

Logan also happened to be the son of Roman and Remus’s tutor. He excelled in almost everything, math, science, geography even English, though he struggled with the metaphors. Out of the three of them, Logan had always gotten the best scores. Roman might have called it favoritism if he didn’t know Logan so well.

Roman passed Logan the note he held crumpled up in his hand. In his despair he had almost forgotten it had been there. Logan carefully read over the material, his face changing only slightly, so slightly Roman wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't known what to look for. He squinted adjusting his glasses.

Of course, knowing what was in the letter himself helped. Roman had reread it over and over again, after finding it on his nightstand that morning.

Ro,

I'm leaving. For good this time. Don’t blame yourself, don't try to come after me, because I don’t want to come back. I don't know what I'll do next, maybe become a pirate? Or live in the woods in a cave,like a bear, and run around naked and eat wild plants! Who knows. I’ll decide later. Anyway, I’ll write to you if I find a way to from wherever I’m going. Say goodbye to Lo for me.

Ps. Don't show this to Mom.You know she’ll come after me.

Pps. If you show this to Mom I'll come back to the castle and bludgeon you. I am not above fratricide.

Roman had quickly hid that note under his pillow. And then he pulled it out to read it again, before sticking it back. He had been doing that all morning. He had at first felt angry, how dare he leave him to do this by himself, that hadn’t been the plan! That's what twins were for! So you didn't have to do things like stealing cookies from cooks, or running kingdoms, alone!

So that was that then. His brother was gone, he left, purposefully disappeared. Roman was going to tackle him if he found him. When he found him. Determination flooded into him.

Logan looked up at him. Probably seeing something in his eyes, he said “You’re going to go try to find him.” He looked at him disapprovingly.

Shit.

“I have to--!” Roman said. Roman drew short, and quickly looked around. He lowered his voice, “I'm going, and you can’t stop me!” Logan glared at him.

Roman glared back, harder. Logan maintained his gaze for a second then looked away, sighing. “Fine, then, I will accompany you.”

“You don't have to-” Roman said. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I know I don't have to.” He walked over to Roman’s closet and grabbed a bag. “Pack some clothes, I’ll make a list of things we need, and draft a plan.” He placed the bag down next to Roman.

For the first time today Roman smiled. He could almost taste the adventure coming up on the horizon.

-----

Patton couldn’t wait to see his friend! He had said they could meet up today. Patton was so excited he sped through his chores. And boy, there were a lot!

Not that Patton ever really minded that much. He loved the animals on the farm. And he liked getting up early, and getting to watch the sun rise. The only problem was that he had finished too early. By the time he had gotten back it was already twelve O’clock and he still had two more hours to wait.

It was currently 1:30. He still had thirty minutes to wait, but his friend was rarely on time. Sometimes he came early, but mostly he came “fashionably” late as he had called it once. Patton had laughed.

Patton was sitting by the edge of the forest, near his house. The grass underneath Patton's hands was soft, and the sun shone brightly through the trees. The wind felt breezy, tousling through his hair. Patton giggled.

Patton's thoughts wandered to when he met his friend. It was almost a year ago, Patton had been playing around near the woods. His mama had told him to never to go in them. So Patton stayed around them, sure to never get too close to the trees. But Patton had thought he heard crying.

At first he was able to convince himself it was nothing, just the wind rustling through the trees, but the sound grew louder until it could not be classified as anything but sobbing. All thoughts of getting in trouble fled him. Someone was hurting, he needed to help them.

He had wandered slowly into the woods, holding his breath. Barely making a sound. He walked on the path, trying to listen from where he thought he had heard the sound. If somebody was hurt he had to help. Nevermind the fear slowly creeping up his spine.

As he journeyed farther and farther into the woods, the volume of the crying would cycle. Just as he thought he was about to reach the person, it would decrease again. Patton was just starting to think that he’d been tricked when he heard movement in the trees.

He turned around.

Nobody was there.

He slowly turned forward.

A snake was hanging down from the tree, right by him. Patton screamed. He fell backwards and froze. The black and yellow snake drew up close to him. So close he could see the wrinkly outline of its scales. Its eyes were cat-like. The snake's head nodded to the side, an expression that, on a human, would certainly be read as amused curiosity.

Patton got up and ran.

He could feel air rushing past him. He was running on autopilot, passing through trees and ducking under vines. Low hanging branches and thorny bushes nicked at his skin. He nearly avoided tripping over a couple of twigs and branches. He slowed down to a light jog, before stopping and sitting on a log to catch his breath. Patton looked around.

Nothing looked familiar. Patton thought he had come out from his left side. He walked back that way. Trying to go the way he remembered coming from, turning left and right. Just as he thought he would never make it out of these woods, he saw light. Light! Patton ran toward it.

Only to find himself back in the same place he started.

He tried again, and again, changing directions, taking lefts where last time he took rights. But every time he found himself in the same place. It didn't help that the tree markers seemed to flip and change randomly. And Patton couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. “Why cant you just leaf me alone?” He tried to joke, but his punning fell flat.

He sat back down on his log, and started to cry.

He heard something move in the trees. His breath hitched, and he looked up. A boy about his age was sitting on a branch and looking down at him, lazily dangling a leg off the side of the tree.

His clothes were dark. Pretty fancy for the woods, Patton thought. The boy had a button down shirt, and a cloak wrapped around him. He had yellow gloves, and a hat Patton had never seen before. Patton thought he looked like a storybook villain.

“Crying is, absolutely, one of the best, most productive, responses one could have to getting lost in the woods.” Patton whipped his face with his sleeve. That was kind of a mean thing for him to say.

“Hello!” Patton said, trying to make himself seem happier than he felt. “My name is Patton!”

The boy looked sharply down at him and hissed a half-whisper, “Could you be any louder? I’d love for you to make it known to the whole world that I’m up here!”

Patton frowned. This convo wasn’t going well at all. He pushed forward, and half-whispered “Sorry, it's nice to meet you, what's your name?”

The boy tipped his hat. “You can call me Deceit.” They sat in silence for a minute.

“Well…” Patton began.

“Well?” Deceit said.

“Well, It's just, I'm kinda lost….”Patton trailed off.

“Clearly.”

“And you seem to know these woods a bit…..” Deceit’s expression didn’t change.

“So maybe,” Patton paused, “Maybe you could help me out?” The end of his statement went high.

Deceit must have seen the desperation on his face. Because he said, “Look, I'm not in the habit of doing favors for people, but I am willing to make an exchange.”

Patton gasped. A snake had appeared where Deceit once was. It slithered up the branch and down the tree. As soon as the snake hit the ground, Deceit reappeared.

So he was the one that scared him earlier!

“Here's the deal, I will help you home, if you agree to do me a favor.” Deceit held out his hand to shake it. Patton reached for it, automatically. Stopping just short of shaking it.

“Wait.” Patton had said tilting his head curiously “What favor?”

“You’ll know it when the time comes.” Patton hesitated for a moment, and then stood up and shook Deceits hand.

And in the end that had turned out to be a great decision! Patton had gotten a new friend! A friend that was running towards him right now. Now that’s a bit weird. Deceit doesn't runs, he just slithers all over the place. Patton giggled a bit at the joke.

His smile became tented with concern when he noticed Deceit had a look of panic on his face. Patton grabbed him by the arms. “Hey, hey, what's the matter, kiddo?”

“Patton, you have to hide me!” Deceit said.

#sander sides #deceit sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #missing #fanfic

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rkivepacks · 5 years ago

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TITLE: surprise in two Pairing: Jung Hoseok - Member x Reader Rating: R18+ Genre: fluff, smut, little crack Word Count: 3,372 Trigger Warning/s: swearing, smut Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

Disclaimer: Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! © AO3/dtgloss / tumblr/rkivepacks

NOTES: ∟ This is a prompt submitted by @himbeaux-joon to @ficswithluv ‘s changeswithluv that allows lovely people to send in commissions for donations to BLM charities and organizations. P.S. I hope i did the prompt justice ∟beta-ed by the lovely @meowxyoong who helped me the whole time!!!

∟ banner by @rkivepacks ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/fic here

Prompt: Strangers!AU: You hooked up with a hot guy named Hobi at your best friend's birthday last night. The next morning you realize he's also her little brother Hoseok.

You love all things organizing, decision-making; the works.

But you don’t love stress.

What your best friend’s boyfriend is giving you now reads along the lines of stress.

[New Message] I’m sorry my advisor wanted to reschedule our meeting to today. Forgive me!!!! I PROMISE I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE DO IT DON'T WORRY

You reread the message again before typing back a I will cut your balls off

He replies a I AM REALLY SORRY , followed by a series of hand emojis that you surely know is supposed to be depicting two hands clapping and not to be mistaken as a begging emoji but you let it go.

There are more important things that need your attention.

Like the cake that will apparently just appear later at the surprise party from someone you don’t know and forgot to ask among other things, like organizing the whole party for your best friend.

In their defense, Jiwoo’s boyfriend volunteered to get the cake at least, saying he does not have a bone in his body that is inclined in organizing and left that part of the party to you.

Everything is out of the window now that he had a meeting and would not be able to get the cake in one piece himself on time to the party.

Plans changed and so has your level of patience.

╫

The plan should go like this; let Jiwoo be distracted on her own knowing, that putting someone else for that task will only make it obvious that something is up, meet on the apartment and put up the decorations with Hana as fast as you can before Jiwoo gets back for your ‘planned small get together for the three of you’.

You are currently working on the two-toned tassel garlands that're too slippery to come together when Hana pads into the living room. “The cake is here, Hope said he’ll be back with the pizza.” You hum in acknowledgement, although you do not know who Hope is.

Twenty minutes later with everything set up, you try to have a sip of water when your phone pings.

[New Message] You’re at the apartment? Can you take out the chicken pops from the fridge so I can cook it when I get there hehe

You reply a quick yes and think to yourself sorry, no chicken lollipops today

After a few minutes of checking and finalizing the place, the lock from the main door beeps, signaling that it’s unlocked. Like clockwork you and Hana stare at each other, eyes wide, before she runs to where the light switch would be and quickly turns it off, engulfing the room in an almost pitch dark black just before the door fully opens.

╫

If success is measured by the surprise on Jiwoo’s face, you’d say you did, a hundred percent. Greetings and loves are passed around, pictures are taken and the party is now in full swing.

The preparations tired you out and you end up sitting down by the window that overlooks the back garden, a cup of soda in your hand. Jiwoo and her boyfriend are within your range for now and every time he catches your eye he sends you a sheepish smile and apologies come off of him in airwaves.

You decided to sneak off to the kitchen with a slice of the cake and another glass of soda and get back to your spot on the window as fast as possible.

“Is it good?” You hear a voice not too far from you.

You look at the stranger and assess him, quickly realizing you have not seen the man before as you don't recognize him.

To his credit, he looks handsome in a simple oversized black shirt and jeans, his head covered in a black bucket hat that adorably covers his head perfectly, little hairs peeking out from under it.

“Sorry?” You answer back, unsure.

“Is the cake good?” He repeats.

“Oh yes. Would you like some?” You try to be nice and offer your piece, tilting the plate towards him as he rests on the wall in front of you.

“Thank you, maybe later.” He smiles. “I’m Hoseok.” He introduces himself and you do the same, shaking his hands.

“So are you not in the mood for people? Or…” He trails off and you don’t expect him to stay longer. Not that you mind the company but you had the impression that he was only going to stay to make a small talk to avoid coming off as rude.

“The party just drained me out. And I wanted to have cake in peace.” You explained, tilting your head back as you remember the hecticity of the day.

“Oh you came with Hana, then?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep!” You reply and down the rest of your soda.

“How about we get another piece of cake and soda, and hide somewhere nicer?” He asks, shifting off of his feet.

“Sure.” You smile at him and he leads you back to the kitchen. As Hoseok is slicing the cake for the two of you, Hana comes in skipping into the kitchen. Clearly the alcohol has hit her, considering her face has become red and her hair is almost at rest with what probably is the heat and sweat coming off of her body. Hana comes and wraps two arms around you, swaying you both from right to left before doing the same to Hoseok.

You don't know how the two knew each other and just laugh at Hana’s antics.

“Go away, Hana, you’re drunk.” You shout over the loud music hoping it reaches Hana’s ears but to no avail, the black haired girl just continues her skipping out of the kitchen the same way she entered the room.

╫

Cake and Soda acquired, Hoseok leads you to the guest bedroom that is surprisingly empty. The two of you sit on the floor by the bed, sharing the cake between you. You have been sharing small talk and stories to entertain yourselves.

“I just realized something.” You stop after you hurriedly swallow down the cake, fork midway in the air as you speak. “You’re Hope.” You point the fork towards Hoseok, your tone almost accusatory.

“I am Hope.” Hoseok nods as if the fact is obvious. It’s not for you, apparently.

“Yes you are.” You continue to prod, eyes wide. You realize it as you eat the cake, remembering how Hana has mentioned a certain ‘Hope’ who apparently is about to get the cake instead. You also remember how Hoseok said thank you when you said the cake was delicious.

Hoseok was Hope.

Hoseok was giggling at your serious internal monologue while your brain surely creates an unwarranted mind map between the two names and one person.

“Are you drunk?” Hoseok jokes and you take another bite of the cake and scowl at him. “Speaking of drinks, would you like another glass, I’ll get myself one.” He stands and looks down to where you stay seated, you shake your head and wave your hand to signal him a ‘no, thank you’ before he replies, “Please wait here, I’ll be right back”, and goes his way to the door.

Hoseok stops midway before turning around to go back to you. “Just in case you need to leave and couldn’t wait until I get back,” he pecks you on the lips fast before sprinting towards the door, hoping that being fast would somehow make you stay inside the room.

After a short while, the door opens again and peeks into the room, his face contorted into what shows curiosity before relief washes over him as he sees you still seated on where he last saw you.

“I’m still here.” You wave to him, eyes following his form as he takes his seat again, drink in his hand.

“So, that kiss was like uhm, a deposit.” He clears his throat, eyes searching yours. “I’d like to claim it back, if you wish.” He grins sheepishly and you tip your head back laughing. You shift to your knees, supporting yourself on one hand with the other cupping his face, as you do exactly what he did just moments ago.

When you pull away, he tilts his head back and groans, taking off his jacket.

“What?” You ask, giggling.

“I think it got hotter in here, I don’t know.” He fans himself before he sighs and retreats with his back on the floor, completely laying down making you laugh.

“I think you’re fine, Hoseok.” You laugh, moving to sit near him on the floor before copying his position on the floor and shifting to your side, body turned to him.

“The floor is stiff on my back.” You whisper, shifting on your place as you try to find a comfortable position.

“I like your thinking.” He appraises before he stands up with ease and turns back to you. He stretches out two hands and pulls you up as you reach up to him.

You notice he used more force, not too hard but enough to have your chest press to his once you’re completely up on your feet. As you reach him, he keeps you in place with a hand on your hips, pressing his lips to yours softly, as if not to surprise you.

He pulls away, not leaving too much space between you but enough to allow you to pull back completely if you wish. When he sees no refusal from you, he tilts his head to the side and slots your slips together, this time more firm. You place your hands around his shoulders, your left hand tracing the hair at the back of his head.

You pull away to drag him into bed, your back turned to him but he takes the opportunity to take steps closer into you, crowding into your space. With his chest pressed to your back, he nuzzles into your neck, his hands softly caressing your arms.

You giggle as you lean back to him, “I tickles.” you tell him as you sit on the bed, pulling him towards you and he mutters a little ‘sorry’ although the smile on his face tells otherwise.

“No you’re not.” You huff, he continues to crowd into your face until your back is on the bed and he’s hovering over you.

“Hm. I like this.” He lightly tugs your off-shoulder yellow top, peering down at you. “It’s my favorite color.”

“Is it? Lucky for you I match everything.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He groans and he continues mouthing at your collarbones exposed to him, your body moving with your laughs.

“Let me know when to stop.” He whispers to your ear and you felt ticklish with his breath hitting your skin.

“Eyes up.” You tilt his chin and catch his eyes, slowly he untugs the strings that keep your skirt secured and pulls it down altogether, you assist him without much movement from the two of you.

You pull him closer and kiss him again, tugging his jeans and he pulls away to get it off before returning to his previous position. His eyes never leave yours through the whole accord.

With your senses heightened, you are both hyper aware of your actions and each touch the both of you leave on each other’s has only left you both feeling the hair on your skin rise.

“Still not looking.” He whispers to your lips before slotting them back together, his right hand tracing your hip bones, fingers ghosting over where the line of your underwear rests.

It’s obvious he is trying to get consent even after he’s told you to let him know when to stop. It’s in his looks as he catches your eyes for a few seconds before continuing with what he is about to do next.

He pulls away and grabs something a few steps from the bed. “I’ve felt that I would need this today.” He smiles, in his hands a packet of condoms and lube, before slotting in between your legs only this time, his face is not as close to yours as before.

He softly traces your stomach with gentle fingers, following his own traces with his lips. He continues his movements until he’s mouthing at the waistbands of your underwear, his left hand fumbling with it.

He pulls it off, his fingers trailing after as it runs down your legs. He continues with his ministrations with his hands on your thighs, his presence felt everywhere on your skin. When he gets back up to level his face with yours, he presses his hips to yours and you rest both hands on his hips, tugging on his boxers.

Off it goes and he wraps both of your legs around his waist, at least one hand never leaving your thighs, his lips never leaving yours.

“Ready?” He scans your face for any discomfort and your heart swoons.

A handsome and respectful man? Your heart swelled. .

His hands move with confidence but prove to be gentle as he holds your hips and lines himself up with you.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he slowly eases in, mouth pressed to yours.

You try to not crush him in between your legs as you feel yourself become putty each time he moves, but it proves to be difficult when he moves with practiced ease. He knows how to activate your senses and which actions and movements he could do, sometimes in between intervals and at times a meddling of the two.

You feel yourself sag down onto the bed, his hips continuing his movements, providing you with much pleasure.

Reaching the climax, your legs clamp up on his hips from where it rested on his hide and your arms smoothing down the expanse of his back, unable to apply much pressure as the relief washes over you.

He follows suit, pulling your hips closer to his and stays pressed to each other for a second, before he lets you down gently.

You stay still and connected for a little while, basking in the aftermath of your pleasures. When Hoseok regains his strength and senses, he helps you rest down your thighs to where you would be more comfortable, gentle hands guiding you.

Swoon.

He presses soft kisses to your forehead as you cool down, and quickly finds the thin blanket to cover your body, his eyes never leaving your face.

Soon you feel yourself slowly regain your strength as well. You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest and pick off the underwear from where it was thrown to the edge of the bed. Hoseok gives you privacy as he sits on the other side of the bed, already dressed in everything except for his shoes and his black shirt, back turned to you.

You quickly dress and smooth your hair down from where it was messily tied up.

Your phone buzzes from where you left it on the floor with a text from Hana telling you that she left the place already.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” You say as you stand in front of him.

“Let me get you a ride.” He stands up and you move to the side as he quickly dresses into his shirt and slips into his shoes, leading you back down to where some people, although a little less compared to what they left off a while ago, are still up and drinking.

“I’d drive you, but…” He trails, pertaining to the alcohol he has in his system.

“It’s ok. I can handle myself.” You look up to him and he laughs.

“I know you can. Let me know when you get home.” He says. He gives you a quick peck just before you jog over to where the car was waiting for you.

╫

To: Hoseok I got home safe, thank you!

From: Hoseok That’s good. Would you be free for a late breakfast tomorrow?

To: Hoseok If I wake up before that, yes

From: Nice. Good night :)

To: Hoseok Night, Hope!!!

╫

You do wake up before lunch time. Actually, you wake up way earlier than you should have considering you got home at two in the morning and went to bed at least thirty minutes after.

You contemplate what time to send a text to Hoseok about your meet up when your phone vibrates with a message from another person.

From: Jiwoo You left your subway card here!!! Come get it and I’ll make you breakfast <3

You read the message and sigh. Maybe the late breakfast will be postponed. You text Hoseok informing him that your best friend needs you this morning and ask for a rain check. Thankfully, the nice man takes it well and lets you off easily.

An hour and a half later, you arrive at Jiwoo’s, “Come with me to my room and help me.” She pulls you to the direction of her bedroom. When you get there she hands you the card you apparently left behind.

When you are done helping Jiwoo with an inexistent problem, you come out of the bedroom first while she follows suit, ranting about the mess the party made last night. You hear the door to the guest bedroom open and you stop on your tracks when you look up to the person in front of you, Jiwoo almost knocking on your back on your abrupt stop.

It’s the handsome and respectful guy from last night. Your late breakfast buddy.

Hoseok reacts better than you, face alight with recognition, “Hey!” He greets you and his eyes switch back and forth between you and Jiwoo.

“Oh? You know each other?” Jiwoo takes over and walks in front of you. You follow on autopilot and Hoseok trails behind you.

“Yep.” Hoseok answers.

Yes, if a one night stand counts as ‘knowing each other’.

“Yep. He brought the cake over.” You reply, sitting down on the dinner table.

“Ah, I’ve heard of that from Sowon. He said he was supposed to bring the cake but he had a surprise meeting and he texted my brother instead. Right, Hoseokie?” Jiwoo explains, biting off an apple slice.

Brother? Stress on the question mark.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are related.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are actual siblings.

Jiwoo and Hoseok actually do look like each other if only my brain functioned enough last night.

Your eyes move from Jiwoo to Hoseok, the latter at ease from his seat as if the situation does not bother him as it did to you. It probably doesn’t.

“I think I left my phone in your room.” You say and retreat back upstairs. If they see your phone peeking out from your back pocket, they don’t say anything.

╫

To: Hoseok I DID NOT KNOW ??????

From: Hoseok Sorry?? Do you guys like have some sort of rule or something…

To: Hoseok It does not exist just like my dignity.

From: Hoseok Come back here already Jiwoo’s chill dw

To: Hoseok …

╫

The breakfast went as smoothly as it could. You laughed over and over, enjoying Hoseok's company. Although, it was mostly Hoseok laughing at your despair as you recount the morning you found out Jiwoo and the embodiment of the man of your current dreams are blood-related.

The late breakfast was only a one time thing, with you having research during normal hours and Hoseok balancing a masters and a dance class with his time. You meet on nights your free time would be fitting with his, and on the weekends you get to do more and spend more time, most of it spent with Jiwoo at her apartment. That's when you realize Jiwoo would actually be chill with the whole thing.

Well- Jiwoo was chill with it until she found out that you actually did sleep over at her apartment, seeing you sleeping peacefully with Hoseok cuddled behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

#changeswithluv #bangtanhq #armysource #hyunglinenetwork #bts #bangtan #bts fics #bangtan fics #bts aus #hoseok aus #hoseok fics #mxr #fluff #smut #jhope aus #jhope fics

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raleigh-ocean · 5 years ago

Text

next to me | wilhemina venable x raleigh ocean

summary: for Mina, it was hard to adjust to her new life, but as she felt how Raleigh moved by her side, her presence ever so soothing after a few months, she thought she was going to be fine. It would take a bit more time to Wilhemina to finally open up, however, but knowing more about her partner was a good plan in the meantime.

words: 3,924

n/a: I think it was @darling-dontforgetme the one that asked me about Mina being taking to the doctor or something along the lines, because I wrote it down in some headcanons, and my inbox swallowed the ask for some reason, BUT I finally manage to come around and finish this little thing! So I hope y’all enjoy it!

Placing the book in her thigh, open by the page she was reading and adding notes to, Raleigh's eyes wandered to the ceiling. There was a flickering light that was bothering her to no end, but it wasn't her position to go and fix it. She pushed her glasses on top of her head, letting go a harsher breathe to ease the knot in her brain. No, she needed to fix it because she was really going nuts if she had to put up with it for five more minutes.

Her eyes darted around the waiting room, empty since it was past mid-day. Even the nurse-made-secretary was gone, being called by one of the doctors.

After a few mumbled words, Raleigh hummed content when the flickering stopped. In other circumstances she would have propped herself in one of the chairs to give it a touch with her own hands, but she wasn’t at home and she didn’t want to risk being kicked out of the clinic. She could go back peacefully to her reading, but instead she busied herself pressing her fingers against an invisible wrinkle in the coat over her legs to smooth it. The fabric from the dark duffle coat was perfectly taken-care of, so it was impossible that there was an imperfection.

She couldn't think less from Wilhemina, to be honest.

Her mind got distracted again when the nurse came out from the door where her girlfriend had disappeared almost an hour ago. Or that's what Raleigh thought. The nurse smiled warmly at her, knowingly, and then went back to her spot behind the desk.

"Your sweetheart will be done in…about twenty," she was an old woman, her accent thick that reminded Raleigh of someone from her childhood. "Today's a hard day."

"A coffee would be a good idea then?" Raleigh smiled sideways, a conversation they were used to have.

"The loveliest," the nurse smiled at that, watching the woman stand up. "Do you want me to keep her coat and your book while you are at it?"

When the doctor opened the door for her, Wilhemina thought she was going to pass out at any given second. Not even her cane was enough to support her whole weight, her hands and her legs felt shaky after the session. She still wasn’t used to that new doctor so everything was way worse; but when she looked up from the floor and to where the chatter sounded, a veil of calmness fell over her softly to make her feel a bit better.

Seeing someone waiting for her after her appointments was truly something else. Back in Los Angeles, she always had to get a taxi home, but since she moved to New Orleans that wasn’t the case and it was such a...nice change. Not that she would ever say something about it, but seeing Raleigh waiting for her there meant the world for her.

Her chatter with the nurse at the front desk ended right when they were in sight and Wilhemina felt her body, her new found magic, wanting to reach for Raleigh and let the woman hold her close to her warmth.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, miss Venable,” she barely could hear the doctor but she nodded in agreement. “Remember to not strain yourself for a couple of days, then you can keep with your usual schedule.”

Wilhemina barely nodded in response, seeing Raleigh walking towards her with a calm expression in her face but the worry all over her hazel eyes. The doctor already gave her the next appointment so the only thing she did was bid farewell to him, letting her girlfriend help her with the coat and then they were gone from the clinic. It took more than just that, but Mina was too tired and everything displayed before her in unrelated chunks of information, missing how Raleigh had to fill in a couple papers quickly or how she offered her arm to her, which she took without a doubt.

Once they were safe in the car, which only reminded Wilhemina of her new boss because the Coven didn’t have another car yet aside of Cordelia’s and Madison’s, she couldn’t help but sigh loudly. Without a word, a coffee was handed out for her and her eyes went to the woman starting the engine. How could she be like that? She didn’t even said a word, she didn’t even asked for something, but she had it between her hands and the warmth from the plastic cup was already inviting her to indulge.

“I fucking swear to God if Cordelia doesn’t invest in an off-road next, I’m starting a revolution,” Raleigh’s voice was far from annoyed, more like playful while she tried to accommodate again the seat. “I still can’t picture how she can drive this posh ass car into the swamp and not get robbed overnight.”

It made Wilhemina chuckle lightly, taking a sip to her sweetened coffee and leaning back into the seat with a soft grunt of displeasure. If Raleigh, in her way after buckling herself up, seemed to hear her, Mina didn’t know, but she got her cheek caressed with two fingers before getting a quick kiss there. When her girlfriend finally drove off the parking lot, she took her time to just relax there as much as Raleigh’s driving skills let her. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, but it made Mina feel like her father was driving: messy, unexpected and with too many swear words - at least with her could hear a variation, when she was really mad and switched languages.

However, after a few blocks, Wilhemina couldn’t help but look at the woman driving in awe. Her posture was a bit rigid and her face was almost marbled, focusing way too hard in the task at hand. Was she making the effort to be calm and collected to not bother her? Raleigh biting her lower lip harshly when the car before them made a right without the turn signal was enough response to that.

After her appointments Wilhemina despised listening to music, brain to foggy to actually enjoy it without having a headache, but the silence not being filled with the usual monologue was a bit unsettling. So she looked around the car, finding out the book Raleigh had been reading while waiting for her and taking it just to find out she couldn’t read the cover at all.

“What are you reading?” frowning for her was easy, still trying to make some sense of the title at least, finding herself feeling how her magic was vibrating slightly.

“Oh, I found that old buddy in Cordelia’s office the other day,” the question visibly relaxed Raleigh, but then they made eye contact and Mina discovered a glint of guilt in her eyes. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have been there to begin with, but! In my defense, it was calling me, so please just…”

“Honey, please, you know I won’t say a word,” Mina couldn’t find herself strong enough to make a snarky comment about this, so she only watched Raleigh relax at her soft words. “Now, are you going to tell me or should I put whatever Goode have in the music player? I bet it’s Stevie Nicks, twenty for that?”

After that joke and Raleigh giving her twenty dollars, because of course it was that - ‘why did you said it was Taylor Swift?’ ‘Listen, I just hoped it wasn’t Stevie for once.’ -, Wilhemina indulged once again in what her girlfriend was telling her. Just hearing her voice explaining things made her feel at ease, giving a ‘mhm’ and maybe a remark when it was needed, because for sure she didn’t know shit about ancient magic and for the time being that was going to remain like that.

Also, it wasn’t difficult to make the woman talk your ears off if you knew which topics to touch.

The rest of the trip back to the Academy was made like that, sharing something it would be soon locked again in Raleigh’s brain once they passed past the fence. Which was accurate, because once they were crossing the door the book was nowhere to be seen - it was hidden in the front of Raleigh’s sweatpants, like a kid that’s hiding sweets from her parents - and her whole demeanour shrunk heavily until she could barely notice she was there at all if her girlfriend wasn’t holding her arm.

She didn’t like that part of coming to her new home, but for today, she wasn’t going to comment on it.

Making their way towards Wilhemina’s assigned room, the dread she was feeling was bigger and bigger, and she tried to brace herself not only in Raleigh’s arm but in projecting her new found magic around Ray’s to make it to her destination. And when Raleigh closed the door behind them, Wilhemina could finally breathe. Sitting in the edge of the bed, she let go of her cane and covered her face with both hands, her tiredness hitting her even harder than she thought.

"Mina?" Raleigh's voice is so tiny and full of worry that makes Mina take a peek in between her fingers to look at her. "Do you want something to eat? I was gonna get some cereal and maybe you were hungry too."

"I'm not, thank you," she sighed and finally put down her hands to her lap. "But can you do me a favor?"

The way Raleigh's features lighted up was something Wilhemina wasn't ready for in any possible way, but she swallowed the lump in her throat to finally say what she wanted. It was obvious her girlfriend wanted to be of help to her, even when she already did that in her own silent way, but to be vocal about it...what a wonderful thing it was to do.

"I need some painkillers and some help with getting in my pajamas," Wilhemina looked directly at her and now her girlfriend was closing the door again, walking to her wardrobe to get the clothes first. "And...can you stay with me? Now, tonight...Just stay, please?"

She felt shy to ask Raleigh that, way too shy when they've been going out for four months now, but she was feeling day by day that this was worth. So she was trying to 'woman up' with her feelings, reaching in between all the vines that had been protecting her for years so she could return what was given to her. Wilhemina shied away from Raleigh's eyes while waiting for her response, warmth installing in her cheeks.

"I'll stay with you all the time you want, lovely," and Raleigh's hands are unbuttoning her shirt with care and Mina starts to help her with that, making her move to unzip her skirt and helping her out, arms circling her neck to gain some support. "Even when you'll doze off to my incessant chatter."

Her chuckle was so pure that it made Mina want to hear it more often, her girlfriend leaving the room to get the food and the medicine after pressing a kiss to her temple.

After buttoning the pajamas' shirt up, she pushed herself up to the bed until she was under the covers, letting the mattress to swallow her a bit and finding herself soon in a more comfortable position in spite of the throbbing and constant pain in her back. While waiting, she played with the too long sleeve from her shirt and it made her feel warm and cozy again. Raleigh didn't ask for her clothes back, the pajamas she was wearing lent to her back when they met in Los Angeles, and she didn't feel like actually giving them...so now she had in her possession a way too big pajama shirt and way too long pajama pants, which belonged to the woman she was learning to love.

The thought made her close her eyes and, at the same time, to Raleigh to appear through the bedroom door with her hands full of things...Oberon over her shoulders like a parrot of some sorts and on-growing puppy Sidonia walking a bit dumbly at her tail. Leaving everything in the nightstand - water, painkillers carefully hidden in her sweatpants’ pocket, a cereal bowl over Raleigh’s laptop and a notebook with a bitten pencil between its pages -, the tall woman crouched down enough to let the calico cat jump over the empty space of the bed, soon making his way towards his owner and cuddling her like they didn’t have a never ending on-going war between both. Wilhemina had enough time to scratch him under his head before heavy five months old Sidonia was now on the bed too, going to get the same cuddles from the human her human liked so much...and maybe try to catch Oberon’s tail, like always.

“I couldn’t leave them out,” was the only response Raleigh gave her, Wilhemina looking at her while Sidonia bit her fingers playfully, as she made her way to the spot reserved for her...now a bit tinier than she planned, but getting herself as close as her girlfriend as she could. “I’m not a monster, y’know? They wanted to give you snuggles too.”

“I won’t be surprised if in some months she starts behaving like a person, I mean, this bitch already does but your poor drooling ball is still a baby,” Wilhemina poked Oberon in the middle of the forehead upon saying that, Raleigh pushing Sidonia a bit with her hand to make her go cuddle against her own stomach to not bother Mina.

“Oh c’mon,” Oberon finally moved to let Ray get closer and Mina took advantage of this to finally take the medicine, then finding herself moving closer to her girlfriend so she could rest her head in her shoulder. “I’m not that bad handling animals to give them such traumatic change.”

That Raleigh kissed her forehead automatically, putting a lock of red hair behind her ear, only gave Wilhemina more of that sweet love she was getting in daily doses. A natural thing that led to a new silence, one warm and soft that was barely broke when the woman cuddling her put a hand under the covers suddenly and pulled the book out of her pants, where it was hidden all this time. Her innocent yet mischievous expression only made Wilhemina to chuckle, closing her eyes to rub there a bit, glad today was make-up free. When she opened her eyes again, Raleigh’s hand was fixing the collar of her shirt absentmindedly.

Maybe it was now a good moment to just...try what she wanted to do, the tiredness of her body and mind giving her a little push, new found courage also pushing to the tips of her fingers to move her hand and resting it in Raleigh’s chest.

Hand, that needless to say, was kissed and taken hostage.

“Can I ask you something?” she felt the approval hum vibrate ever so softly through her connection with Ray, face to that area between her chest and her shoulder. “Where...where did you grow up?”

“Here,” Raleigh’s answer was immediate and it sounded a bit automatic, thing that was noticed right away. “Didn’t my speech gave it away?”

“That much I can tell,” Mina wasn’t in the mood for teasing her, but she really wanted to know more...something that wasn’t a cold automatic response. “I meant your childhood home, before being trapped here like a Hogwarts’ student. Was it a nice place?”

And if her girlfriend was tense, now Wilhemina seemed to sense how she gave in, as if Raleigh was trying to hold part of her weight to not get swallowed by the comfort of the bed. Mina had found recently that Raleigh always tried to seem lighter or smaller than she actually was, physically and mentally talking, and that along with how she presented herself every time she was in the Academy didn’t settle right with Wilhemina at all.

“Jefferson Parish, Kenner,” sighing, so deep and heavy, she started with that tone people got when they said something that they’ve repeated for a really long time. “We lived in the north, near the lake, and well...for me was the best place ever on this Earth,” Raleigh played with Wilhemina’s hostage hand to put her palm against hers to size them, the latina’s hand easily being a bigger even when Mina’s fingers were long enough to touch Ray’s fingertips. “It wasn’t a big fancy house, just a small apartment with enough room for three to live in...so you can see my surprise and uneasiness when I got here.”

“You seem pretty much used to it by now,” and it was the truth, because Raleigh was the only one along Cordelia without having troubles getting around the house. Even the staff, those young girls she was starting to know little by little, sometimes seemed out of place.

“That’s what I call self-preservation mechanism,” with a low chuckle, Raleigh intertwined their fingers. “I hated so much being in here, I kinda still do, because sometimes it gives me the creeps that everything is so...white, almost felt antiseptic and sometimes gets really silent,” she was lost for a second and then she focused again on their linked hands. “At my parents’ there was always something playing in the radio or the smell of food, when my mother tried to pull a new recipe,” another soft laugh. “Warm colored walls, an awkward Virgen María picture that my grandma gave us in a shelf by the biggest jelly-bean jar ever, our shoes all over the entrance...mhm, that was my childhood home. It felt like people lived there...here was, is, always too organized.”

Hearing her girlfriend talk so fondly of something was good for a change, and Mina was afraid of falling asleep to that, because it wasn’t boring at all but it was feeling her with more warmth that she usually could handle.

“It sounds like a nice place,” she found herself wanting to visit, to be there and feel all of that, because it was filling Raleigh’s features with contentment just by talking about it. “Even with the virgin there, watching over you each time you picked candy.”

“It totally was,” Raleigh didn’t lose the smile, not even when she said the next words. “I frankly don’t know if the building is even there anymore, to be honest, I...well, my mother moved eventually from there and a few years later the hurricane happened, so…”

“The memory will always be with you, and that’s important,” Wilhemina was quick to complete that, because she didn’t know yet many information about Raleigh’s not immediate whereabouts but she knew for a fact that parents weren't in the equation as of now.

"That's for sure," Mina moved her head enough to look at her and press a kiss to her neck, making the other woman hum content for that.

In her mind, Wilhemina had too many things to possibly ask, too many things that she wanted to know, but seeing that talking about something as normal as her childhood put a soft expression in Raleigh's features...she decided to maybe ask one more thing about it.

One more thing because she was feeling the painkillers starting to kick in finally, not being confident in staying awake much longer than probably the answer and some more seconds in between falling asleep and holding to the present.

That plus hearing Raleigh talk, was actually making wonders to her mood, starting to push to the back of her mind the pain and the discomfort.

"I wonder now if you were a calm kid or a troublemaker," Wilhemina chuckled sleepily with the thought, freeing her hand from the grasp of her girlfriend to pass it over her stomach and hug her. "I feel you were like the first ones, those blessed babies that don't cry much," she yawned a bit and it made Sidonia yawn in response, tired already from trying to catch unsuccessfully Oberon's tail. "My nephew is like that, such an angel."

Wilhemina has yet to talk about her own family, but Raleigh didn't seem to pressure her into anything. She only let go of a soft laugh and kiss her forehead lovingly, caressing her arm.

"Oh good lord, my mother wished that too," another good laugh blooming in her chest had Wilhemina's new found magic tingle in response. "I was a hurricane and an earthquake thrown together in a mixer, my father even made up a nickname just because," Wilhemina couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, giving up and resting better in her lover's arm, still listening to her. "The only times I managed to actually sit down were when my mother was reading for me some new book she found at work or one of her or my father's old magic books."

"I don't even know why you don't give that nerdy vibe if you were read a lot and I know you still do that," she managed to mumble, mouth half pressed against Raleigh's chest at this point. "I suppose is that."

"My father used to say 'I was born to fight an army with the force of my frown'," Wilhemina didn't see that, but upon saying that Raleigh actually frowned, giving a scaring stare to a heavy sleep Sidonia. "My mother was more of the opinion that I took any 'bad girl juju' out of them and made it my own. I remember once I fought a girl because she kept giving me a stinky eye and didn't let go until someone pointed out she had just a tic in her left eye."

"A feisty one I see, Ocean," Wilhemina giggled at the little snippet of the adventures of little Ray, which in her hazy mind couldn't picture how she looked like.

Raleigh looked down at Wilhemina for a second, surprised to have her in that mood. She was always in check with her feelings, without a crack on her whole demeanour, but having her girlfriend being so comfortable around her was truly a blessing. Raleigh didn’t need Wilhemina to constantly tell her or show her she loved her back, she was confident enough to know she did even when at times she asked herself how could she possibly loved her.

So the only thing that she did in response was to kiss the crown of Wilhemina’s head with care and give her a new caress to her cheek with her thumb.

“Oh, you don’t even know the start of it,” Raleigh laughed again, softly, to keep talking. “I had too much energy when I was a kid, then I grew up and that energy went all to my brain and-”

And there, it’s when Raleigh heard Wilhemina’s deep breath.

Falling asleep that easily surprised her a second time, but after the heavy day the woman in her arms had it was probably something to expect. Raleigh smiled to herself, making sure Wilhemina was really asleep, and then she raised her hand to use her Telekinesis to get her notebook, laptop and cereals from the nightstand. She could use one hand perfectly to keep studying, it wasn’t that hard, right?

But after a hour of almost exploding because, of course, she couldn’t take notes and holding the book with one hand, Raleigh decided to just lay there with her lover.

Maybe she could even try to take a nap too.

#wilhemina venable x original character #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #raleigh ocean

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reminiscences · 5 years ago

Text

another attempt at blogging

i started this tumblr a couple years ago at the same time kate did. i can’t remember why—i’m sure tumblr was in the news again for some reason. i guess it was before the great porn purge. i was talking about blogging again this week with my friend daniel, and i woke up this morning and he had sent me a blog he wrote on a new tumblr account early in the morning, so to continue my regression to the early 2010s, i too have rebooted tumblr, given it an era-appropriate name, and decided to give it another go.

the problem with having a newsletter is that i don’t think anyone wants to hear from me in their inbox daily, so i’ve become very precious about the things i write there. it feels like it has to really matter. i like blogs because they’re disposable and can be dumb and not your best writing. how many two-graf tumblr posts did i write in 2011 that were just thoughts i idly had during a statistics lecture? anyway, here’s the first blog, they won’t all be this long probably.

When I think about eventually looking back at this year I think about what I want to remember from it. I will remember the first week of March. I’ll remember the last birthday party I attended in person at Branch Ofc, a perfectly serviceable Crown Heights bar that was very full of people. I’ll think about that night and how I showed up to the party with a Ziplock full of homemade salted chocolate chip cookies in my purse, how I shared them with a table where the birthday-haver and their friends sat. Breathing in the same air as the four dozen other people crammed into the bar. I can’t imagine it now. I like Branch Ofc because it is unpretentious without pretending to be a dive, unlike Sharlene’s, which tries too hard to mimic the aesthetic trappings of an authentic dive bar but is really just a normal Park Slope bar. Branch Ofc is just a bar where you can buy drinks, and it was an eight-minute walk from my old apartment. It used to be a bar with a photobooth and Big Buck Hunter but I think both of those are gone now.

For a few days in March, it felt like people were preparing for a snow day. Everyone was slightly more on edge than giddy—but only slightly. “WFH but make it a coffeeshop” I saw on someone’s Instagram story, a selfie with four of their friends coworking somewhere in Bushwick, completely nullifying the point of a work-from-home edict. I ran into my friend Maddie at the renovated Key Food on Nostrand the next week. Maddie, her roommate and I were in the aisle with the Pop Tarts and the Oreos. “I feel like I should get those?” we asked each other, pointing at junk food. I wasn’t wearing a mask or gloves; nobody was. Some guy wearing a Cornell University Sigma Chi tshirt walked by us with the largest bag of dried beans I’ve ever seen in my life slung over his shoulder. That was a man who had never soaked dried beans in his life. I wonder if he ever ate the beans. We were a bunch of idiot 20-somethings blindly grabbing for cans of soup and Fritos for the end of the world. What were any of us doing there? Why was it imperative that day that I make and freeze a lasagna? Maddie’s roommate had fresh lasagna noodles from Eataly she wasn’t going to use before she left for her parents’ house, and she said I could have those. She brought them over for me and I idly wondered if you could get Coronavirus from someone else’s fresh pasta noodles or if the heat of the oven would kill the germs. I made my lasagna.

I’ll think about how March-to-May is just one long gray blurry streak in my head. I baked, I got into running, I said “running with a mask? No thank you, no more running for me,” I got a job, I felt bad about getting a job when everyone I knew in journalism was getting laid off. I did a lot of Zoom Zumba. At first I slept terribly, and then I started sleeping too much, and then I stopped sleeping again at some point during that stretch. There was a novelty to suddenly being inside all the time that made it feel like an excuse to get “really into martinis.” I got really into martinis. Then I stopped drinking for a couple months. Remember “Zoom happy hours”?

The thing I use most as a means of setting apart different eras in my head is the music I used as a soundtrack at the time. I rang in the 2014 new year in my cute apartment on Westcott Street in Syracuse with my college boyfriend, drunk and blaring Cold Cave, before we walked down the street to Alto Cinco and got Mexican food and passed out. It was my senior year and I only had a few more months of living like this and I loved the small life I’d built for myself there. Of course, it couldn’t stay. When we broke up a year and a half later after he moved to New York, where I had been living for most of a year, I walked around the neighborhood near the Myrtle-Wyckoff stop, close to where we were living together, listening to Mitski’s 2014 album Bury Me At Makeout Creek. I sat in Maria Hernandez Park and watched a bunch of kids play Red Rover. I didn’t especially want to go home because I hadn’t taken an escape route into account when we broke up and somehow timed it out so that things ended after the first of the month, leaving me with three-and-a-half weeks of continuing to share an apartment with someone whose heart I had just broken. In retrospect it’s clear to me that I had just outgrown a relationship with someone five years older than me who hadn’t grown up at all, but I hear that Mitski album now and all I think about are the cold early April days of 2015 when no place and no person felt like home. There’s a line in First Love/Late Spring, by Mitski, where she sings “胸がはち切れそうで,” which translates to something like “My chest is about to burst (with grief).” My advice to recent college graduates moving to New York is to simply not do anything the way I did it.

So when I think about 2020, I do not want to associate any music I previously had fond memories of with this year. This is unfortunate because every musician I like who produces sad music has nothing but time on their hands now and they’ve all come out with new songs and albums. My recently played selections on Spotify look like a cry for help: Phoebe Bridgers, Bright Eyes, even Tigers Jaw.

On Saturday I couldn’t sleep in. I woke up at 5:30 and watched the sun appear through my bedroom windows. I kept rolling over, trying to sleep again, but it was futile. Eventually I got up and got dressed, and left my apartment on foot. The walk into lower Manhattan is a few miles from my new place in Fort Greene. I walked west on Fulton, and then down Flatbush. It would have saved me ten minutes to take the Manhattan Bridge, but I’ve always regarded it as the ugliest of the bridges to cross on foot or on bike—last fall, I would walk home from Ben’s apartment over the Manhattan Bridge, and it was just so grey. You get an okay view of Dumbo, I guess, on the walk east, but it isn’t much to look at. When I got back to the Brooklyn side on those walks, I’d get on the A at High Street and take it back to Nostrand instead of walking the last couple miles.

So I chose the Brooklyn Bridge this time. It was as busy as you’d expect it to be in a non-pandemic event. Instagram boyfriends took pictures of their girlfriends, who took off their masks for a few seconds for the right shot. I saw a couple taking engagement pictures in front of the lower Manhattan skyline. It felt so normal, pedestrians and bicyclists squeezing past each other at the narrow points.

I was listening to Saint Cloud, the Waxahatchee album that came out a few months ago, turning it over and over in my brain like a rock you pick up at the beach and end up carrying with you on a long walk. The album, outwardly, has this gauzy blue-sky Americana vibe but when you listen to the lyrics of some of the songs it feels like peeling back layers of skin until you hit a raw nerve ending. Every song feels like a eulogy for this year. “You might mourn all that you wasted/That’s just part of the haul,” Katie Crutchfield sings on Ruby Falls. I got to the title track, which closes out the album, as I ascended the bridge. When you get baaaack on the M train, watch the cityyyyyy mutaaaaaaate, she sings. I guess she’s singing about New York. Is there another M train somewhere? I don’t know. I’m going to think about this stupid year whenever I listen to this album, I thought.

I got off the bridge at City Hall, surveyed the ongoing occupation movement there and the literal dozens of cops that had seemingly been deployed to stand there and, at best, do nothing. I walked down Centre Street, eventually winding through the little park by Baxter Street where two adults were playing ping pong, which felt like a socially distanced sport, all things considered. I walked down all those side streets in Chinatown as the sun struggled to break through the oppressive clouds. I walked by Nom Wah, past the salon Polly taught me will give you a very good $12 blowout, past that annoying bar where the bartenders are dressed like scientists, past the place where Kate and I got our auras read on her birthday in January, and ended up at Deluxe Green Bo. I ordered my spicy wontons in peanut sauce and ate them right there, the hot plastic container burning my knees as I sat on the sidewalk.

Afterwards I walked by all my favorite places—the skatepark under the bridge, Cervo’s, Beverly’s (RIP), Little Canal, Jajaja, the Hawa Smoothie near the East Broadway F. The skaters were hanging out in Dimes Square. Everything had changed but standing outside Kiki’s, it felt for a second like almost nothing had. It was almost a normal Saturday on Canal Street. The sky stayed electric blue until I got back to Brooklyn.

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airquietworks · 5 years ago

Text

Lost at the Summit (IzuOcha) (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

Chapter 3: Story One week later, Ochako found herself alone in a cold bed, groggily awakening on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday.

Izuku was conspicuously absent, the sheets with barely a trace of warmth from his body's departure. She frowned slightly at that - she liked the rare chance for lazy cuddles in the morning - but didn't think much of it. He must have been preparing breakfast or perhaps dealing with a phone call - which he should not take on a day off, but oft did anyway.

She let herself slide into her bedsheets, struggling to resist the urge to fall back asleep again.

The days were so busy now, conspiring to keep her and her husband apart. A couple of news outlets finally asked her for interviews about retirement, and though she dutifully squeezed them in, they did not get much traction. People were still too preoccupied with Deku's retirement, what that meant for the hero charts, and other news of the day as the world shifted around the fall of the world's greatest.

Ochako had buried herself in her work, intent to live her last days as a hero best she could. She tried her best to ignore people's ignorance of her, focusing on saving lives and helping people. But the days dragged and part of her could not let go of her bitterness. All of a sudden, retirement could not come soon enough.

She decided to start her morning as he usually did - reaching out and grabbing her phone from her bedside table. She idly swiped her fingers across it, checking the news of the day, always with an eye out for anything she should be aware of as a pro.

A glance through her emails yielded something unusual. Her inbox was flooded with messages with similar titles: "thank you," "Thanks, Uravity!" "You rock." It wasn't that uncommon to get an appreciation message from someone she rescued, but the sheer number of them was peculiar.

She opened one.

"Hi! I just wanted to let you know you're my favourite hero, and I absolutely love you. You kick so much butt! I remember seeing you leap into a burning office tower one time and save 20 people. It was so awesome!

I'm so sad you're retiring! =( But I'll keep cheering you on while I still can!"

Ochako grinned at that, her mood lifted by the message of appreciation, even if it was simple. She got them from time to time, but they never failed to make her feel good.

But it was strange. These messages were rarer in her aging years and she could not recall doing anything that would garner this kind of outpouring.

She went through a few more of the emails, all with variations of people sharing their appreciation for her, whether or not she had personally rescued them. Eyebrows furrowing at the strange situation, she checked through her social feeds to see what exactly was going on.

On social media, her mentions were flooded into the thousands, far more than usual. A word caught her attention, causing her eyes to widen.

"#WeLoveUravity" was trending.

It was not a massive trend, but there were still thousands of similar, heartfelt messages - shorter, but no less impactful. Pictures and stories of her throughout the years were being shared. A few noteworthy commentators were even discussing how little coverage she was getting since she made her retirement announcement two weeks ago, and the inherent sexism at play with that.

Ochako fell back into her pillow, trying to make sense of it all. Her heart beat faster, a nervous, excited energy taking hold of her as she watched everything unfold.

The world - at least, a part of it - was finally telling her story.

And Izuku probably had something to do with it. There was no other explanation she could think of.

More than a little perturbed at the idea her husband had somehow manipulated the masses, she got up, not bothering to change, and made a beeline for the kitchen to confront him about it and-

Thank him? Scold him? She was not sure. She loved the words being shared about her, even if it was probably just a passing trend that would fade quickly. But she did not want that to come because Izuku somehow campaigned on her behalf. They supported each other, relied on one another, but only to a point. She wanted her legacy to stand by itself - even if it came up short - instead of sitting on Izuku's broad shoulders.

But as she walked through the kitchen and living area, he was nowhere to be seen. The only traces of him were a few dishes in the sink, a plate of eggs on their dining table and an envelope next to it.

Pouting, she trudged forward towards the message. She opened it up and pulled the paper out, growing frustrated by the surprising morning.

"Dear Uravity,

I wasn't too sure about writing this message. But I saw what was going on and I figured I had to.

You probably don't remember me, and I don't blame you. We met about ten years ago, with a villain raid in the city. I was a new pro hero, fresh out of school. I was overzealous and got myself into a bad situation. I saw my life flash before my eyes as a monstrous villain towered over me. I was sure I was dead, but you knocked her away with one punch and got me to safety.

I'll never forget the care and comfort you showed me, your bright smile somehow making me feel like everything was going to be okay, even in such a calamity. I was about ready to quit right then, but you encouraged me, told me to keep on pushing forward. You were the brightest spot in one of the worst days of my life.

I just wanted to let you know how much that meant to me. I wouldn't be a hero today without you. I've been following you since then, and I'm amazed at what you've been able to accomplish. I was heartbroken when I found out you were retiring, but I understand. You deserve a comfortable life and a happy retirement.

I don't know how to end this, so I guess - thank you. You are my hero.

P.S. I'm not much of an artist, but a lot of people are doing it, so I hope you like the picture.

Sincerely,

Clearway"

The memory was foggy in her mind - she had dealt with a lot of villain-led attacks, and could only vaguely recall this one. But she was touched nonetheless.

She turned over to the next page and gasped at a glorious sketch of her standing atop a roof, still young, posing heroically, looking down on the city below. She was smiling, her short hair billowing slightly in the wind, her confidence radiating in the simple lines.

In her early morning stupor, the image pierced through her heart. It struck her hard to read how much it mattered to someone that she had saved them - a hero, no less. That someone would still remember that, even a decade later.

She took a seat, anchoring herself, trying to find a steady place to keep herself from floating away.

Ochako eagerly consumed the breakfast left for her - perfectly warm, the likely product of Izuku's meticulous planning and knowledge of her sleep cycles - smiling at the simple, sweet gesture.

But as she ate, her mind spun in circles at everything that had greeted her this morning. She ran through the words over and over, a mix of pride, joy, and anxiety swirling around, uncertainty at the centre of it all. Her heart sang with gratitude for the love people were showing her, but her brain refused to stop questioning it.

There were people out there who remembered her, cared about what she had done - she could not deny that. But she always knew that to be true. That ultimately did not mean her legacy carried that much weight in a world filled with heroes who did the same. It did not mean she had helped enough people to make a mark. It did not mean her story would be told beyond the day. It did not mean she could stand on the summit.

But she had to admit their words were making accepting that a lot easier.

The familiar sounds of the front door opening perked her ears up. She got up quickly, moving towards it, eager to tell her partner what was happening and confront him if he had something to do with it.

Izuku wasted little time before marching through the room with a wide grin on his face, wearing a blue hoodie, with an oversized yellow backpack. He nodded towards her despite the confusion she was sure was showing on her face. He walked over to the table, depositing the bag.

"Good morning. Sorry I left early; I had an errand I needed to run," he said sincerely, stepping forward and inclining his head towards her. She put a finger to his lips, stopping his attempt at their usual good-morning kiss.

"Good morning," she managed, though with a sharp edge to her tone. "Do you know what's going on?"

His smile stretched wide again as he disengaged from her finger, gesturing slightly towards the bag. "I do. I went on an early mail run when I saw it. The post office only left a few in our mailbox; there were too many to carry otherwise."

"A few…?" she trailed off as he opened the bag to reveal it was overflowing with envelopes, not unlike the one left for her on the table. She went slack-jawed at the sight, quickly reaching out to get a better glimpse of just how many letters they received. There had to be over 100, all seemingly written out, stacked neatly, but clearly crammed within the bag's tight confines.

So many people had sent her a personalized message. She ran her fingers along the envelopes, confirming that they were really there in front of her.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he said, awe in his voice as he watched her, gauging her reaction. "So many people wanted to let you know what you meant to them."

Ochako turned her head to face him, feeling her eyes getting a little misty. She narrowed her gaze, gauging him carefully. "But how? I don't get it. Did you do something?"

His eyebrows shot up, and he suddenly looked a little nervous, his green eyes looking away. "I...may have made a post on a popular forum. But I promise I didn't say much, and I kept anonymous!"

He got a little flustered, his hands moving with his explanation.

"I was just so frustrated and upset at how sad you were about everything. I wanted to do something - I wasn't sure what. But I just wanted to vent and maybe show you a thread of people who did appreciate you. I just said there wasn't a lot of coverage about you retiring and how sad that was. I guess it got some traction, and people started posting more and somebody I didn't know said they should do fanart, and before I knew what was happening, it went viral."

He took a breath after his rant, gesturing to the letters. "And I don't know how, but somewhere along the way, someone thought it would be nice to do handwritten messages, too. My post may have started it, but I promise I didn't do anything else beyond that. This was because so many people do appreciate what you've done - because you are one of the best."

He stepped forward to grasp both her hands in his, holding them softly, brushing his thumbs over top. "I know that better than anyone."

Her heart stuck in her throat, Ochako struggled to come up with a response. She could feel a smile stretch across her face as she stared up at him, and she was helpless to stop it. The knowledge that somehow, all these people had sincerely wanted to do something for her...a part of her still could not believe it.

"I just...I just don't get it," she murmured. "I haven't done anything to deserve this."

"You've been leaving an impact on people your entire life. You do deserve this - and more."

On instinct, she hugged Izuku, conveying the appreciation that words could not. He embraced her in turn, the two of them holding one another for a moment, basking in the warmth.

His lips pressed a kiss into her hair. "Want to start going through them?" he suggested.

"I think I'd like that." Maybe then, she could banish the doubts, still clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

The two of them moved over to the couch, pressing up against each other, making up for the earlier loss of morning cuddles. Together, they started to read through some of the letters, each one sincere and heartfelt. Izuku took it upon himself to read many of them aloud, giving voice to the sentiments of the people she had saved, helping them ring more powerfully in her ears. They also admired the art together - they had a wide variety of quality, but she appreciated each one, and she resolved to collect them carefully as a keepsake.

A couple of hours passed and they barely put a dent in the messages. They carefully sorted them out, removing the hundreds in the oversized bag, placing them aside for later.

The miraculous letters slowly eroded her defences. The world had left its eyes on her, and she was far more beloved than she would have imagined. Perhaps history would be kind to her, after all.

Still, that irritating, nagging part of her mind knew it might yet be a flash in the pan. Viral trends did not necessarily leave much of a lasting mark. She felt so wonderful about the love of her fans, but how far that ultimately extended was hard to know exactly. Did it really compare to what other heroes were able to do?

Just as they stood up and agreed to take a break, Izuku grabbed her hand again, beaming at her.

"So...I was wondering if you'd be up to take a trip with me."

"Oh? What for?"

He looked strangely giddy, his feet rocking back and forth, a toothy grin plastered across his face.

"Well...I didn't plan for all this. But I did plan for something else. A surprise."

Her spirits buoyed by the lovely morning, she found his giddiness infectious, and she eagerly pumped a fist up to share in his enthusiasm. "Alright, sure! Where are we going?"

Izuku trembled with his excitement. "U.A. High School."

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

Together, they walked to the place where it all began, Izuku keeping infuriatingly cryptic about his plans. The city streets seemed so much more wondrous now after their morning together, the cloudless day painting it in vibrant light, the busy people she had protected for 35 years going about their lives peacefully; a peace she had protected.

They moved covertly, dressed in baggy, unremarkable clothing, with hoods up to disguise their faces as they made their way to the front gates of the school. It was just as imposing as it was back then, built upon the shoulders of the country's greatest heroes. She had belonged here, but after so many years away, the hallowed grounds had regained their intimidating stature. A part of her wondered about herself in relation to this anyone care that this was the school that had produced her? Would her name be listed amongst its greats?

She tried to clear her head, shaking it thoroughly. It would do her no good to get mired in such thoughts.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" He looked just as in awe of it as she was, even though he visited far more often than she did for guest appearances. "I really miss living here."

"Those were tough times. But a lot of good memories," she said, reminiscing about those wondrous early days.

"The best," he agreed as they arrived at the front gate, closed with a mighty metallic door. Security was still just as tight as ever.

"So...will you tell me now why exactly you wanted to bring us here?" Ochako pleaded, pouting at her husband, desperate to know what surprise had made him so delighted.

"Well, if they're not late, they should be...ah, there they are!"

He gestured towards the corner opposite to where they had arrived. A middle-aged woman with long, red hair and a kind smile walked toward them, carrying a small girl in her arms. The girl was positively adorable, with short hair like the older woman's, rosy cheeks and a bright smile as she looked around at the school, squirming excitedly.

Ochako looked intently at them and then back at Izuku, posing the question with her eyes. The pair of them looked vaguely familiar, and the girl was certainly cute, but she was pretty sure she had never met either of these people.

"Mommy, mommy, who are they! Are they the surprise?!" the girl squealed, pointing at the two heroes as they approached.

"Yes, that's right," the mother replied, her own excitement ringing clearly in her voice. She turned her head to regard Ochako, looking intently at her. "It's so nice to see you both. Thank you so much for this. I didn't imagine this would ever happen."

"Thank you so much for agreeing to my request," Izuku replied with a grin. "Well, Ochako, do you recognize her?"

Ochako regarded the pair again, putting on a gentle smile, but struggling to put names to the faces. The girl stared back at her with wide eyes, tilting her head slightly, studying her.

"Mommy...is that...?"

"Yes, that's right," the woman said with a laugh, kneeling down to let the girl out of her arms, the child practically vibrating with excitement. "That's Uravity."

It was like a volcanic eruption. The young girl - who could not have been older than five based on her size - squealed with delight, jumping slightly in the air, her hair flying about as she hurried over to the named hero.

Ochako chuckled at the sheer delight before her, kneeling down to meet her apparent fan. It was always fun to interact with the little ones. It did her heart good to see somehow, she could still inspire children.

"Hello there," she greeted the girl, pulling her hood down to show more of her face. The girl glomped her knee, staring up at her with wide, chocolate-coloured eyes, beaming ever-so-sweetly. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"

The girl giggled suddenly, squeezing at the fabric of her jeans.

"Yours!" she cried out, laughing as if that was the greatest wonder in the world. "Ochako!"

The hero felt as if her heart might burst from the shock and joy that coursed through it. She felt her eyes go wide, her gaze flashing up towards the girl's mother, who had a smile stretching across her entire face.

The realization came through her mind. She looked back to the girl at her knees, beaming up at her. Her memories flashed backwards, 35 years ago, reaching deep into the rubble, pulling a red-haired girl out, consoling her, hoping she could put a smile back on that face.

Haruka Akemi.

The elder Ochako snapped back to the present, looking down at the girl, who suddenly looked so much like the one in her memories. She gulped, struggling to contain the welling emotion of meeting her namesake. "Well, that's a lovely name for a lovely girl."

The girl blushed, her cheeks getting rosier, but the smile never vanished from her face, little dimples popping up in it.

"Wow!" the girl exclaimed. "I love that we have the same name. You're my favourite hero."

Ochako's heart squeezed at the sheer cuteness, her breath coming out in a little gasp, garnering laughter from the other adults present.

"Thank you very much," she responded, glancing back towards Akemi. "Hey, would it be alright if I held you?"

"Yeah!" The girl cheered, suddenly trying to scramble up into her hero's lap.

Said hero looked up to Akemi for permission, who provided a quick, affirming nod.

Ochako lifted the girl up, grinning as she yelled in delight, her arms reaching up towards the sky. She hardly weighed anything, even without activating her quirk.

"Yaa!" the girl cheered, giggling as Ochako lifted her up and down a few times. Ochako laughed with her, the child's mirth infectious, her heart soaring at the sheer joy of the moment.

But suddenly, she felt a strange tugging at her neckline. Curious, she looked down to see her clothes pulling away from her body slightly toward the girl she was holding.

"Watch your Quirk now, dear," Akemi said. Ochako looked up to see the woman moving ever so slightly towards the pair, without moving her feet, pulled by some unseen force.

"Oh, sorry!" the girl cried out, slightly panicked, the smile running away from her face. She took a deep breath, calming herself down.

Ochako noticed her clothes fall back to normal, the force gone.

"Is that...her Quirk?" Izuku said slowly, putting his hand on his wrinkled chin. She noticed his eyes lighting up, as it often did when an exciting new Quirk appeared before him.

"It is. We're not entirely sure about it since she got it last month, but we suspect,, based on my Quirk, she is increasing her gravitational force to pull things in." Akemi frowned, walking up to stroke at her daughter's hair. The girl had suddenly lost all her excitement, the colour drained from her face.

"Wow, that's quite a power," Izuku chimed in, studying the girl intently.

"It is. But we're a little worried about the risks if it gets too powerful. So we're playing it safe until she's a little bit older."

"I want to be a hero like you…" the young Ochako said suddenly, looking away from everyone. She was suddenly on the verge of tears. "But I don't know if I can with this."

"Ochako…" the girl's mother replied, her eyes widening, apparently startled by the sad comment.

Without thinking, Uravity took action.

"Hey. You know, when I was a little girl, people were worried about what I could do with my Quirk, too," she said, causing her younger counterpart to pull her head up.

"Really?"

"Yeah! People were always saying I needed to be careful or I might really hurt someone." She could remember once sending her father a little too high into the air, leading to him getting a sprained ankle. "So I had to watch out for a little while. But eventually, I got a little older and had enough control to really work with it."

The girl sniffled slightly. "Could I do that?"

"I know you can do it. Just listen to your mom and keep working hard. Reach as high as you can. If you can stay positive and work at it, I'm sure you could be a hero, if that's what you want to do."

The girl's face lit up brighter than the sun, bringing a matching smile onto her namesake. "I do! I will!"

Ochako held up a fist, letting it slowly approach the girl. "Then I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do as the next hero named Ochako!"

The girl slowly mimicked her hero, bringing her tiny fist into her counterpart's one. She held it there for a moment, before bringing it back in, beaming all the while. The torch was passed.

The hero handed the girl back to her mother, spirits buoyed, heart warmed to have helped make such wonder in a child so small.

"I wanted to thank you for everything you did back then," Akemi said, her smile as beautiful as her daughter's. "What you said to me...I never really got to thank you properly, but it was what I needed to hear. I don't know if I could have gotten through everything without it. I never stopped looking up to you after that. I even run a fan site - I was just a little nervous about trying to meet you in person again."

Ochako beamed at the woman, her eyes getting wet as the words left their mark. What she did back then did matter. It was not for nothing. She had made a difference, even if it seemed so small looking back.

"Aww, you didn't have to be afraid. I would have been happy to meet you at any time." She looked towards the small girl who bore her name. "Thank you for this. For her. I'm just...I'm honoured."

"There wasn't anyone more inspiring we could think of to name her after. And neither of us would be here today without you." The girl in question gave a toothy grin and thumbs up at her idol. "And she's loved you ever since she found out about it."

Ochako took a breath, struggling to maintain some composure. Seeing the happy family that her work had helped create made her feel more pride than just about anything, besides her own family.

"Mommy, why is she crying?"

The hero touched her cheek. Oh. She was. She supposed it could not be helped.

"I'm just...very happy," the hero replied, making sure to show it in her smile.

It was difficult to describe the overwhelming, surging emotions within her. Here was solid proof of her mark on the world, something impossible to fathom before this moment. Surrounded by such love, she felt eager to give some of it back out.

"Would it be alright if I gave you two a hug?"

The blush returned to Akemi's face. She buried it in her daughter's hair, but she opened up her free right arm. Her daughter reached out eagerly, tiny arms stretching forward.

Ochako stepped forward and embraced the two of them, hugging them close, though taking care not to crush her namesake. Akemi let out a little gasp, seemingly struck by being embraced by her hero, while the younger Ochako latched around her neck.

The hero felt warmed to the very core of her being, holding a small part of a much greater legacy. She had made a difference, and she was holding it. Right now, these two people were the world to her.

"Thank you," the hero whispered her heart into Akemi's ear.

"Thank you for saving me," was all the woman could manage in reply.

After a couple of autographs and a promise to keep in touch, the couplings waved farewell to one another.

The hero promised herself, right then and there, she would watch the girl grow.

"I can't believe you found her after all these years."

"It took a little doing, but it was worth it." Izuku's answering grin was just as wonderful as it was on the day they first met.

She took the time to hug him from the side, digging her head into his chest. "You're incredible, you know that?"

"I couldn't be without you," he whispered into her hair. "You set a pretty good example."

"Oh, hush." She disentangled herself from him, face aflame, touched beyond words but getting a little embarrassed at the avalanche of compliments the day had brought. "So, shall we head back home?"

"Well...I had one more thing in mind." He walked over to the towering gate, pulling a card out from his pocket and flashing it at a scanner at the side of the door.

Ochako jumped slightly as the doors slowly opened, revealing the campus and school beyond. She stared wide-eyed at the familiar pathway, where she had begun her real journey to becoming a hero.

"How did you…?"

"Retiring comes with some perks. Called in a favour or two," Izuku said, tucking the card back in and adjusting his yellow backpack slightly. "Come on, let's go!"

With a surprising amount of exuberance, Izuku forged ahead, laughing as they returned to the grounds of their youth. Ochako followed him, joining in, eager to see just what more he had in store.

Staring at the school ahead now, it did not seem quite so imposing. The familiar path, lined with the busts of heroes, was significant, but she could walk it just as well as she did when she first came here.

This was a place bathed in legacy, but she was a part of that, just as much as the incredible heroes who had come before her. After meeting her young namesake, she did not doubt that now. Whether or not the world recognized it, she had made a difference, and there was plenty of living proof.

She realized how lost she had gotten. What was important to her was helping people - and heroes - in pain, people who needed you. She had done that thousands of times. That mattered. It was enough.

"I wanted to be here for this," Izuku suddenly called out, snapping her from her thoughts. He surged forward quickly, a few steps ahead of her. "The place where we-EEEEEEEEEE!"

Ochako reacted on instinct, sprinting ahead and tapping her hand onto the backpack of her descending husband. She did not see exactly how he had managed to trip, but even he would suffer from a faceplant into the hard ground.

Her reflexes were still quick enough, though he came pretty close to tasting brick. He stopped awkwardly in the air, body hanging horizontally without its gravity.

A rush of nostalgia hit Ochako with full force. Her mind went back more than 40 years, when she reached out to save the boy who would come to save the country - and her. She had acted on instinct back then too, not wanting to let people get hurt when she could make a difference, even if preventing a fall was trivial.

Silence hung in the air between them, the realization hitting them both at the same time.

She started snickering at him. Uproarious laughter followed quickly.

"I...can...not..believe!" Ochako paused between words, struggling to breathe, keeling over slightly. "That you would fall here again!"

After forty years of heroics, standing at the pinnacle, the world's greatest hero was still felled by his own two feet. Some things never changed.

"I swear...I swear I didn't mean to!" he responded, legs kicking in the air slightly as the laughter wracked through him. She noticed a blush starting to come to his cheeks, a little embarrassment peeking through the mirth. "Gosh, I planned to be more...together this time. I couldn't say a word to you when we..."

His face scrunched up suddenly. Just as she prepared to release him, he turned in mid-air, reaching his hand out to pause her.

"Wait! Uh, can you just hold me here for a bit?" he asked, reaching around himself to take his backpack off his shoulders.

Confused but curious, she nodded, staring intently at her partner as she tried to make out what he was up to.

With a shaky hand, he pulled out a small envelope from the bag, reaching out to hand it to her, still hanging awkwardly in midair.

"One...one last letter," he muttered, tripping over the words as he had with his feet. His nerves were evident, but she could not understand what he had to be nervous about. "From your biggest fan of all."

She had a hard time processing the image before her. Izuku, reaching up, letter in hand, hanging awkwardly, his gravity stolen by her hands. Blushing like a schoolboy, a nervous little grin on his face. She did as he asked, taking the envelope and regarding it carefully, curious as to its contents.

Izuku took a deep breath as she opened it up. "I just wanted to bring you here to remind you. About the very first time you saved me...and I guess the latest time, too."

He held up his yellow backpack, a toothy grin coming upon his face. "I even tried to look the part best I could!"

"Izuku…" she was astonished at just how far he had gone to make her feel better. She felt a surge of affection toward him, even before she read whatever was in this letter.

It was strange, thinking of this place as the first time she had saved someone. It had hardly seemed like anything at the time. Little did she know how that simple gesture would intertwine their destinies forevermore.

He finally flipped himself back upright, well accustomed to moving without gravity. She quickly tapped her fingers together, releasing him. He was suddenly right in front of her, eagerly gauging her reactions.

"Well...whenever you want to," Izuku said, inclining his head ever-so-slightly towards the message she held in her hand.

The envelope contained two pieces of paper, folded carefully together. She opened up the pages, her eyes met with his untidy scrawl. It could be difficult to read - he had developed his handwriting more for speed than legibility - but she had long since grown accustomed to it.

"To the world's greatest hero,

Hello! My name is Izuku Midoriya, and I have been a fan of yours since I was 16 - about 40 years. I might actually be your oldest fan!"

She let out a chuckle at that, Izuku joining in. I was always struck by just how determined you were - and how brightly you smiled. Even when you faced setbacks, you kept maintaining this incredible aura. It must have been hard on you. I wanted to help you, but I also knew it was something a hero had to do; reassure others even in the darkest of moments.

Being back here, Ochako could remember her first Sports Festival, and how brutal that setback had been. It was tough putting on a brave face. She put on a false smile too often back then, but it was a skill that could come in handy.

I've watched you every step of the way, and it was incredible seeing how fast you grew. How strong, how kind, how heroic you were. It drove me to want to be better. I know I would not have been the hero I am today without you.

You may not realize it, but I owe so much to you. At that entrance exam at U.A., there is no chance I would have made it without you. You saved me that day, and you've had a knack for doing that ever since.

She smiled at the memory of their exam together, even if it was fraught. From day one, they had managed to pull each other out of the fire often.

When I've fallen, you've lifted me up. When I doubted whether I could do it, you gave me a name that always meant I could. I've watched you blossom into an absolutely incredible professional. You inspire and help so many people. You are ridiculously kickass.

She snorted at that one.

My favourite moment of yours was your fight against the Renegades. The way you alternated your Quirk so smoothly and took out so many of them at once is - well, you know the rest.

"Nerd," she teased, garnering another chuckle from him.

You are the world to me. Everything we've built together, accomplished together - I'll make sure no one ever forgets it. You helped me tell my story - you helped make sure my story even exists. I will make sure they know yours.

I've left something to remind you of just how far you've come. The world may not recognize it, but I know we stand at the summit together. And I never would have made it here without you.

Thank you for always saving me!

Your number one fan, Izuku Midoriya

"Izuku...I…" her throat clogged up, rendering her speechless. Standing here, she could fully remember the incredible story she had helped create. How could she have doubted she had not left her mark, when the truth stood there before her, his eyes bright, standing at the top of the world, her right by his side?

Her story would be told. Their story. Together, in everything. She could see it now.

"Hang on. You should see the fan art first." Izuku looked sideways, blushing, adjusting himself away ever so slightly. "...Maybe even the first one?"

Startled, Ochako turned the page over, gasping at the sketch of herself. It was a little worn, clearly done with a basic pencil on an aged piece of paper. But it was surprisingly detailed around her face - far more than some of his older sketches. The descriptions highlighted her various costume features and abilities. She noticed a few crossed words like "cute" and "incredible," the page bearing the first signs of his love for her.

"It's the first sketch I ever drew of you. I usually cycle through these pretty fast, updating things. But I wanted to keep that one, even back then. When I first drew it, I realized I went too far and put it away. But I never wanted to get rid of it. Eventually, I realized it might make a nice retirement gift."

She reflected on the old sketch of herself - young, naive, courageous, simple. She drew a hand across the worn page, a gateway to the past, thinking upon how the image of her had changed, how much more she had done since then.

"Thank you, Izuku. It means so much to me." She stared up at him, his green irises shining down at her, the same passionate flame still there within them, even if they were now surrounded by more wrinkled flesh. "And thank you for saving me. Now, and always."

He grabbed onto her shoulders; she could feel the strength still so present in his arms despite how worn they had become. They beamed at one another, as best friends, partners, and everything to one another.

"This is where our journey together began," he stated simply. "Where our story began. And this is where the rest of our lives will, too."

She placed a hand over the top of his, holding it to her, staring fiercely back at him. "We got some adventures left in us after all, right?"

"The best is yet to come."

She acted then, grabbing onto the neck of his sweater and pulling him in for a deep kiss, her heart igniting at the contact, as surely as always.

They pulled away, the passion of the fleeting moment staining both their cheeks, suddenly sheepish about such a brazen public display of affection. Fortunately, nobody was around to witness it.

Ochako carefully put the letter and drawing back in the envelope and tucked it away in a pocket, turning back to the path where she had begun her journey, leading toward the gate out to the rest of the world.

She held out her hand for him, and he took it, intertwining their scarred flesh together.

They walked out towards the sunlight, the rest of their story left to tell.

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

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Temple Discord Server Big Bang Event. Prompt: "Thank you for always saving me!" Thank you very much to Mal for editing this and for Xylveon for the incredible artwork provided for the fic. You can also find it at https://twitter.com/Xylveon700/status/1294469669361840129. Please show Xylveon some appreciation! Thank you to the organizers for putting this on, it was truly wonderful to be part of. Please leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed it ! ^_^

#IzuOcha #my hero academia #fanfiction #Midoriya Izuku #Ochako Uraraka #shipping #IzuOcha Temple 3rd Anniversary Big Bang #Angst #fluff #romance #this is really dang fluffy

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elopez7228 · 5 years ago

Text

Scenic Route 32/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Leia was slow to respond to the incoming phone call. She had spent many restless nights as the day of the hearing drew closer, and tonight had been no exception. She had only recently been able to slip into a dark and troubled sleep.

She knew she had to be strong for her people, keep her head held high. She had no right to back out now. It was her job to keep morale high and to assure the others that it would all work out—though that also meant that the number of people she could confide in had dwindled. She had spent many nights consumed by her own thoughts and fears.

Her phone rang five times before going silent.

This was her personal device, no one—well, practically no one—had access to that number. It happened infrequently enough that it was enough to rouse her despite her tiredness.

The clock on the screen read 5 AM. She had barely managed two hours of sleep. But the fact that someone had called her at such an ungodly hour using this number meant that it was important. She took a moment to collect herself and rub the sleep out of her eyes before calling back.

“Skywalker.”

“Leia, it’s Kaydel, I’m sorry for calling you so early but there was an email sent to the organization’s public address and I think you really need to see it, now.”

“An email?” Leia repeated somewhat incredulously.

“Yes, I’ll stay on the line while you read it. I’m ready for any follow-up orders.” Kaydel responded shakily.

Leia frowned. If there was something wrong with the trial documents, they knew to call Amilyn and the legal team. If something had happened to Luke, he had this number himself. What the hell was it about an email of all things that had the girl scared to death?

Putting Kaydel on speaker phone, she opened up her inbox and scrolled through the most recent messages. The public account usually only received spam and donation-related emails. What on earth was going on?

from : [email protected]

To : [email protected]

07/08/2018 : 4:46 AM

Subject : BB8

Hi Leia,

Looks like you left me a wrong number, I’m sure it was an accident! I didn’t know how else to reach you so I hope you see this...

It’s going well so far, Wyoming is magnificent.

I ran into your son Ben, he was performing at a local concert. What a small world! He offered to take BB8 to his uncle by himself.

I’m thinking it would be a great idea for BB8 to stay in the family. Would you have a problem with that? Let me know,

Cheers!

Rey

0044 (0) 7881 235 562

Leia’s gasp turned into a coughing fit so violent that she had to put the phone down. Leaning over her nightstand, she groped for the water bottle that she kept there.

“Leia? Are you okay?” Though muffled, Kaydel’s voice sounded worried.

Leia took a long sip of water, trying to calm her breathing as she wiped away a few tears that had been brought on by her sudden reaction. The phone was back in hand immediately.

“Thank you for the warning, Kay. No new orders. I’m going to handle this one myself. I’ve deleted the message, and not a word to anyone about this for now, am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

Once the conversation was over, Leia allowed her legs to give in. She slumped onto the bed, hands trembling.

She hadn’t seen it coming.

Posing as her son Ben Solo to get Rey to hand over the dog? It was, ironically, a perfect ruse.

The boy never ceased to amaze her. She underestimated him at every turn. Every time she took him for a fumbling idiot, he thoroughly managed to turn the tables on her. Well, he was her son after all. She supposed she should be proud.

Time was running out. She had to reach Rey before it was too late.

But there was no room for error here, the stakes were too high. She could ruin it all with the wrong words, with the wrong reaction.

Leia jotted down Rey’s number before deleting the email. She also made sure to delete it from her “trash” folder. Next, she went to the bathroom, taking longer than usual to braid and pin her long grey hair. It gave her time to collect her thoughts again. She took the time to dress carefully, make herself a cup of coffee, and sit down at the kitchen table in front of the telephone.

Rey couldn’t sleep after the events of that morning. She decided instead to get dressed for the day and busy herself with taking down the tent and gathering the rest of her scattered possessions. She felt a pang of longing mixed with desire as she picked up the clothes that had been strewn on the ground. She couldn’t help but remember the way that Ben had made love to her, right on top of the Falcon. It wasn’t that long ago but it felt like a world away.

She replayed the scene of his betrayal over and over in her head as she folded her clothes and packed up the car. She fumed at the thought that he had still sought to manipulate her.

Rey wondered what to do next. Go sightseeing again? Somehow she didn’t feel up to it anymore. Drive straight to California? That would mean saying goodbye to her itinerary.

Curse Leia Skywalker for dragging her into a conflict that was none of her business...Now she had come within an inch of her life multiple times—she would absolutely love to nominate Syed Ren for a Nobel Peace Prize—and now her holiday plans were ruined.

Turning on her phone for the first time since last night (battery conservation 101), she saw the voicemail icon flashing with a new message notification.

Her heart constricted in her chest because she knew exactly who it would be. Her thumb slid over the icon to open the application anyway. Ben Solo. Should she erase it? Should she bother to listen to it at all, did he even deserve that?

The temptation to hit “delete” was undeniable, but her curiosity won out. Her heart hammered as she pressed ��play”.

She could feel her features crumbling as she listened to his words. It took her a second to process the new information.

His attempt at an apology was dramatic self-flagellation as usual. Blah-blah-nail-me-to-a-cross-my-love and all that. She really didn’t have time for this nonsense, he shouldn’t be the one whining here.

But the part about running to the police because “two killers were on her trail” was enough to justify not deleting the message.

Ben fucking Solo had some explaining to do, considering that literally all of his Saturday night bar mates were some kind of new wave punk assassins.

She was in the middle of feeding BB8 when an epiphany occurred. Scrambling for her phone, she typed out a very important email. By the time she hit “send” it was 6 AM (or 5 AM in California, she supposed).

She was hardly surprised when she received a response within fifteen minutes. When her phone buzzed the caller ID was unknown, but she knew it was Leia Skywalker. Rey took a deep breath. She knew that by sending that email she had turned the tables on them. Now, it was her turn.

“Yes, hello?”

“Hello, Rey? It’s Leia Skywalker. I’m sorry for calling you so early in the day but I figured since you emailed me you must be awake.”

Rey feigned surprise.

“Oh, hello Leia! I didn’t even recognize your number...lovely weather in Denver I hope?”

“In Den—oh yes, the weather here is fine,” Leia responded, seemingly shaken by the unexpected question. “Rey, how is BB8 doing, is she okay?”

“BB8? Of course! She’s been such a great road trip companion, she’s so cute and we’ve gotten so used to each other.”

“Is she...with you?”

Rey blinked. When was Leia going to stop pretending?

“Yeah, for now. I’m dropping her off with Ben this afternoon, actually. He said he was going to San Francisco to visit his uncle anyway and I guess I couldn’t possibly refuse him,” she replied as innocently as she could.

On the other side, Leia sounded like she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Rey, no, I think this isn’t a good idea...I would rather have her stay with you.”

“Why.”

It came out harsher than anticipated. Rey found herself unable to smile any longer.

Leia was silent for a moment, sensing the change of tone. She must have known she was missing something because she sighed ruefully.

“Rey, tell me the truth, where is BB8?”

“No Leia, you’re the one who has to tell me the truth. Why did you suddenly change your number?”

Straight to the point. Leia hesitated.

“To protect you.”

“Protect me from what, your own deceptions?”

“It’s a long story, Rey. But you have to keep BB8 with you, every step of the way. Don’t let Ben near her.”

“Oh believe me, Madam Skywalker, I have all the time in the world. In fact, I think I could really use a long story, given that my normal life has been upended by the godforsaken, murderous “Knights of Ren”. Thank you for that, by the way. This is not how I wanted to spend my time, so I really think you owe me an explanation.”

The older woman sighed again. Rey was right. In her blind panic to strike FORCE as quickly as possible, she had forgotten the human factors involved. She had put this innocent girl in danger.

She was clearly resourceful and capable, but she was innocent all the same. She deserved the truth.

Ever so carefully, Leia began her story. Starting with her parents’ company, the betrayal of her mother by her father, his fall from corporate grace, and then the massive culture shift under Snoke’s leadership. As the new director, Snoke had sold shares of the family business to their competitors through fraudulent financial schemes, gaining enough political influence to become the president of the board. Then he came for Luke and Leia, who had been attempting to independently audit his financial gains.

Finally, he was able to turn Leia’s own son, Ben, against her. He offered him everything she never could: money, power, and a prestigious title.

Rey paid close attention. The backstory gave her a lot of context for what she had already known from her web searches. But it still didn’t answer her biggest question.

“Leia, where do I fit into all of this?”

Rey, Leia admitted, was a Golden Opportunity (trademark pending)...truly one in a million, too good to pass up, really. In the Leia’s line of work, one had to make decisions rapidly—often in high-stakes strategic situations with difficult choices and volatile conditions. The situation could devolve at any given moment.

How could Earth Soldiers get the micro-SD, that contained all of the evidence of FORCE’s illegal insider trading under Snoke and Hux, to San Francisco without triggering a defensive strike? Leia’s solution was to use a clean hand. Who better than someone who was going on a haphazard road trip across the country with no agenda and no political motives or alliances whatsoever? Rey was the perfect messenger.

What Leia hadn’t counted on was Ben’s intervention. He crashed through the plan like a bull in a china shop. Brash, but incredibly effective. Underestimating her son always had proven to be her fatal flaw.

Rey took the time to absorb it all. On it’s face, Leia’s strategy was questionable, but not impossible.

“You should have told me all this at the very beginning.”

“If I had, would you have taken the job?”

“Probably not. But that’s not the point! You had no right to put my life in danger over a personal conflict. Especially without my knowledge. What am I to you? Just collateral damage?”

On the other side, Leia’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t respond. She had made some questionable decisions in her lifelong conflict against FORCE, and it wore her down on some days. Sometimes she was too quick, too rash for her own good. She thought back to her days in the army, how she had always been surrounded by comrades-in-arms who strived for the same mission. But real life wasn’t like that.

Rey didn’t need to hear that, probably didn’t want to hear it either.

“You’re my only hope,” Leia said simply. “And if the Knights of Ren are after you I can send someone to escort you.”

This would alert all of FORCE’s allies, they would all target the Millenium Falcon at once. But Rey didn’t deserve to be sacrificed for a cause that wasn’t her own.

“Luckily, I’m not done here. I think I still have a card to play. Can I call you at this number—or are you going to disappear again?”

“You can keep it, as long as you memorize it. Please, I don’t want to be traced.”

“Understood. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Rey hung up. The very next person she called was Ben Solo.

#reylo #fanfiction #Scenic Route #Modern AU

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underthemoon-and-stars · 6 years ago

Note

Are you willing to write a Stucky with a child that has Cystic Fibrosis? If so, can it be a domestic fluff? Like Bucky finds the kid and they remind him of Pre-serum Steve so he and Bucky take them in. Thank you if you can. (I'm sorry just want to see a CF character in a fandom I love)

Hi dear!! I was very nervous to write this as I wasn't very aware of the symptoms of CF. I went on a lot of medical sites and I think I have the information right? If not I am so so sorry and I will redo it!! Also I'm going to make their child a daughter but feel free to switch up the pronouns! -Selenophile

Cystic fibrosis is a genetic condition, which means that it is something you are born with. Cystic fibrosis is known to cause your lungs to produce extra-thick, sticky mucus. This mucus builds up and clogs your airways. Side effects include persistent cough with phlegm, postnasal drip, wheezing, shortness of breath, inability to exercise, as well as poor growth and low body weight despite a good appetite.

Y/N reads the doctors note every day. When she was younger, she didn't understand one word of it. At two years of age she would hand over the card to the family that had high hopes of adopting a little girl. They would usually leave without her. Her housemother, Mrs. Hamilton, always played it off as a different type of superhero form the comic books. Not a lot of adults want superhero babies. It was so easy to believe that. Now she’s 18. She getting released into the real world Luckily, her friend offered her house just till she can find a college to stay at. Y/N had to learn the hard way that adults don't want a sick kid.

“Hey kiddo” Mrs. Hamilton said, her tone soft like silk. “You read that dumb note everyday. It means nothing.”

“It apparently does. No adult wanted me in my 18 years of being here.” Y/N retaliated.

“Don't think about that. They didn't deserve you anyway.”

Y/N sighed and picked up her tote bags. “I’ll miss your kindness, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“You have my number if you need me.”

“I know”

They shared a long tender hug. Y/N pulled away once she felt a little tickle in her throat. The tickle sadly turned into a whole fit.

“Hey, if you ever need me to pay for your Bronchodilators, please text me. I don't mind.”

“Of course Mrs. Hamilton. Ill see you around.”

And with that, Y/N made her way down the stairs. This place, so familiar, was now going to be apart of her past. She remembers running all around with her “brothers”. Patiently eating dinner with her “sisters” was the best. Even exploring the world with their gender-fluid and non-binary siblings was so exciting. Mrs. Hamilton and her always had the best talks. Mr. Hamilton helped with her homework. So, so many memories from this place. She’ll miss it.

The outside world was so much different now that Y/N was out on her own. She took her meds this morning, so that once gross, pollen-infested air didn't even bother her anymore. Her brave feet carried her away from the place she used to call home. The first order of business before heading to her house of 2 months though, get some lunch. Wendy’s has a pretty amazing salad and it was only 2 blocks down. Lucky for her, 2 blocks was her walking limit. Off she went.

That's where Bucky and Steve were enjoying a lovely lunch as well. Steve had a hamburger, and Bucky had some chicken nuggets.

“Alright dear” Steve said “Check Wendy's off your list”

“Already did. I think its pretty good! Not my favorite though.” Bucky replied happily.

The newly-founded couple have been going to one fast food place a week to introduce Bucky to different types. Any fast food restaurant one could think of, they're going. It was a mix of a date and bringing Bucky up to modern times. It was good for them.

“Bucky, all you get is chicken nuggets you should branch out.”

“Leave me aloneeee I love my chicken nuggets”

They giggled together, and returned to eating. That's when Y/N walked through the door. She was already panting. Not even realizing, she passed the two men who would change her life.

Y/N stood patiently, waiting to order. Bucky watched her. Her small, skinny stature reminded him so much of young Steve. Even the way she panted after walking in. Steve would do the same.

“Who are you looking at my love?” Steve questioned.

“Oh, the girl on line. She reminds me so much of you. Skinny, Small, I heard her panting. Look she's coughing now too. What was it called?”

Steve turns around and smiles “Bucky she's cute but what's your point?”

Bucky jumped up “I'm gonna talk to her!”

“That's cute love but please come back id like to enjoy our date before our next mission”

The long-haired man nodded, skipping happily over to Y/N. Just as he was approaching though, an older man came behind her and snatched her wallet. Bucky was ready to pounce, but Y/N was first to it. She was so weak, so she flung right off with a simple push of the man.

“Hey doll, you alright?” He asked softly.

She nodded weakly, already shaking. Steve rushed out the door to follow the man.

“That's my boyfriend, he’ll get your wallet. Why don't you sit with us? I’ll get your lunch! What would you like?”

Y/N looked up at him. “I-I” she took a minute to wheeze out a cough “T-that's too kind of y-you.”

“Please its my pleasure! what would you like?”

Y/N tells him a simple Caesar Salad. He happily picks her up, along with her stuff. Bucky told her where she was sitting, and she made her way.

This is so weird. Y/N thinks to herself. She takes a seat regardless through, watching the tall blonde walk towards the shorter brunette. She sees her wallet and feels at ease.

“She’s either a runaway or an orphan whos turned 18. We need to take her in” Bucky whispered into his ear.

“Or she's just heading off to college? I cant put a girl a risk” Steve whispered back.

“Please Steve. She reminds me so much of you. She cant survive out here one her medication runs out. And to be honest? She seems like she has a low dosage the way she's still wheezing and coughing like that.”

“One day James. If she changes my mind in one day, we can keep her”

Bucky happily kissed Steve's cheek. He carefully grabbed the salad and took it to the girl.

They ate together rather happily. The couple learned her name was Y/N. She’s and 18 year old girl who just came out of the system, just like Bucky hypothesized. To sum up her condition , she showed them the note - which was only kept for nostalgic purposes - which made Steve feel connected to her more.

“So no one adopted you because you have Cystic Fibrosis?” Bucky asked

“No one wants a sick kid”

Steve sympathized. “I used to have CF too. Once I got the super solider serum I never had to deal with it again. I understand where you come from though. Being constantly underweight and small, also no matter how hard you try you cant become better at exercise. I get it.”

Bucky took Steve’s hand and kissed his cheek. Y/N smiled, continuing to eat her salad. She didn't even question the fact that he was Captain America, she understands how it feels to be bombarded with questions.

They managed to convince Y/N to stay for the night. She fought them on it, telling them they were being way too nice for a girl who was about to ruin their night. Bucky continued to tell her to shush it, while Steve was having a change of heart.

It was a good night. They watched TV together, enjoyed a lovely home cooked dinner, talked some more about each other and even played some old timey board games. Y/N had the time of her life. No way on Earth would she do this with any other adult who offered her help. Since Steve had a similar experience and Bucky helping him through said experience, it gave Y?N the confidence to take the offer. She never regretted it

That one day became one week. That one week became one month. The one month became a year. Steve and Bucky were there every step of the way. Convincing to ask the little web slinger Peter Parker out to prom, taking said prom pictures, helping Y/N with homework, taking her on cool adventures. The day of her high school graduation they gave her the gift of a car. She gave them the official title of Dad. When the papers for official guardianship were clear, it was the happiest day of the trio’s life.

Now, its the night before Y/N goes to college. Her bags were packed. Her small, cozy bedroom looked so vacant now. Her dads were cuddled up on the couch.

“Got any room for a jellybean?” She asked softly.

“Yes we do! Always!” Bucky cheered happily,splitting apart from Steve. The small girl jumped in, which was a big mistake since she was already taking deeper breaths.

“Did your school accommodate for your CF?” Steve asked, giving her a big fat kiss on her cheek.

With a giggle, she replied “Yeah dad, They put me in the closest dorm to the classroom. They also put me on the lower floor on the dorm building. AND Peter said he was gonna help me out.”

“You and Peter are too cute, I'm happy he takes interest in you”

“Thanks Dad 2″

Y/N leaned right into her dad 2 where she was scooped under the chilly metal. Steve got up, moving to the fleshier side of his husband. Yes, in the year Y/N lived with them, they finally got themselves together and got married. Y/N was Bucky’s maid of honor, and she joined in on the couples first dance.

They watched the stupid soap opera that was on late at night. all three of them couldn't even keep up with what was happening.

“Dads, I love you” Y/N blurted out.

“Woah kid, you better catch your breath, because we love you too.” Bucky responded as Steve reached over, playing with the girls hair. Her happy giggled gave Steve and Bucky the message: they changed this girls world.

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