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animeomegas · 4 years ago

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Imagine that Sasuke is having problems with his 'future alpha', he doesn't understand some dating methods and ends up 'reluctantly' going to ask Itachi's alpha.He just blushed saying 'I can't believe I'm doing this but I need some advice'.Itachi's alpha comes home late looking happy and Itachi holding his dog asking where he's been.

Anon: I think Sasuke would only start liking Itachi's alpha after they help him stand up to a bigger, stronger, more trained betas and/or Alphas. Because I don't see him as someone who might ask for help from anyone, and his brother's alpha somehow saw them bully him and push him around, so they tell him how to one up those annoying people. (Maybe buy him ice cream or something after). This young Sasuke vs Itachi's alpha thing should be a show, because I'd sell everything I own to watch it.

(Anon 1: This is a big brain idea, anon, thank you for your service 🤭 I changed it a little, how that's okay!)

(Anon 2: I think you're absolutely right that Itachi's alpha does something big for Sasuke when he's at a low point, and it ends up changing their relationship for the better in a lot of ways. I decided not to go with bullying though, because Sasuke seemed to fit this scenario moreso. Also, ahhh, I'm so happy you're liking this mini series!!!!! I'm having so much fun writing it and it fills me with joy that other people are enjoying it just as much!!!)

...

Okay, so, Sasuke has never been the most intuitive when it comes to emotions. And he’s also never been great at acknowledging or learning about culture surround a/b/o dynamics because he’s always been adamant that he doesn’t care for it or need it.

But now Sasuke is starting to think that may have been a mistake. Because things are going wrong with this whole courting situation (that Sasuke still can’t believe is happening to him.)

Things were fine! But now the alpha courting him is getting colder and not wanting to train as much, and Sasuke doesn’t know what’s changed! He’s angry and upset about it.

He’s been brooding for about a week about the whole situation, but now he’s decided to ask someone for advice.

His friends are useless. His mother just laughed and told him it would work out if it was supposed to. Shisui is on a mission. He’d rather die than ask Kakashi sensei. So, unfortunately, he had to ask his brother, even though he was sure to get some embarrassing and invasive questioning from him. The sadist.

So, he goes to see his brother.

Who isn’t there.

His brother’s alpha tells him that Itachi is out with their pup all day running errands and taking him for his bi yearly check-ups. But Sasuke needs to know what’s going wrong and how to fix this now! He doesn't have time to wait for Itachi to be done with his stupid errands!

His brother’s alpha notices how tense he is and asks if he would like to stay for some tea, and Sasuke accepts before he thinks about what he's doing. Their relationship is much better nowadays but Sasuke can’t help but feel a little awkward around them still.

…

“Here,” they say, sliding two teacups onto the table. “You like green tea, right? It’s the only type we have in, you know what Itachi’s like with tea.”

“Green tea is fine,” Sasuke says politely if a little stiff.

His brother’s alpha sits down at the other side of the couch with their own tea, and the two sit in silence for a bit, each sipping their own tea

“Sasuke,” they say, shooting him a concerned look. “If you need me to go and get Itachi, I can. You don’t look well, he’ll come back in an instant if you ask him to.”

“No,” Sasuke answers quickly. “It’s fine… I…”

Here goes nothing.

“I’m just having a bit of trouble at the moments, is all, and…”

Itachi’s alpha nods, obviously listening intently with a look of concern on his face that is making this both harder and easier for Sasuke at the same time.

“Go on, Sasuke, I’m listening.”

“I’m sure Itachi told you about my… my er situation,” Sasuke starts, wishing he could punch himself in the face for phrasing it like that.

“That someone’s courting you?” they ask gently.

Sasuke only nods, face burning. He can’t count the number of times he’s told Itachi’s alpha to their face that he’d rather die than enter a courtship. This is so awkward, why is he doing this?

“Did they do something to make you uncomfortable, Sasuke?” they ask immediately after seeing his hesitance. “Because if they did, we can sort it out together okay? It’s not your fault.”

“No!” Sasuke immediately protests far louder than he intended too. “They didn’t… They didn’t do anything, I just… I think I did something wrong…”

Sasuke pretends to drink his tea to avoid having to elaborate any more, despite the fact that it’s still too hot.

“What did you do that was wrong?” they ask, voice still quiet and soothing and Sasuke hates how comforting he finds it. Like it or not, his instincts had branded Itachi’s alpha as ‘safe’ many years ago.

“I don’t know,” Sasuke admits, fiddling with the rim of his cup. “They seemed sad one day and I just thought they had a bad day or something, but now they’re… cold.”

“They aren’t behaving how they were behaving before?”

Sasuke shakes his head.

“Is it possible they have an issue at home or with some of their friends? It might be something in their personal life that's upsetting them.”

Sasuke shakes his head again.

“They seem fine when they’re with everyone else…” he admits. “It’s just me.”

Sasuke forces back the burn of tears he can feel behind his eyes. He will not cry. He won’t do it.

His brother’s alpha hums sadly.

“And you want to figure out what happened?” Sasuke nods. “Okay, why don’t you walk me through what happened on the days leading up to the mood change.”

And so Sasuke does.

He tells them all about how they would meet for training every day and Sasuke would bring two bento boxes for lunch, and then they would sometimes go shopping or go out to eat. Things he hasn’t told anyone about yet. And as he's talking, he really can't see what the problem is, everything seems fine! But maybe Itachi’s alpha might know some alpha thing that he doesn't. Sasuke can easily admit that it’s not his forte.

“I see,” Itachi’s alpha says after Sasuke had finished his story. Sasuke’s tea sits cold on the table next to his brother’s mate’s empty cup. “I think I know what happened.”

Sasuke looks up immediately. No way they’ve already figured it out that easily!

“They thought you were rejecting them,” Itachi’s alpha says simply.

“Wha- But…we spent everyday together! How could that be a rejection?!”

“When an alpha is courting an omega,” they start to explain. “They’re trying as hard as they can to prove to that omega that they can be a good mate.”

“I know that,” Sasuke snaps.

“Listen to me for a second, Sasuke," they softly reprimand. "So, when an alpha, particularly a younger one, is courting an omega, they are very sensitive to rejection, they look for it everywhere.”

“Why?” Sasuke asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, when I was courting your brother, we weren’t that much older than you are now, and I remember thinking that he was the most perfect person in the whole world,” their eyes take on a faraway look as they reminisce. “I was so sure that he must have had hundreds of alphas clawing for his attention every day, and so I was desperate to prove to him that I could be a good mate.

“With every gift, on every date, I would watch his reaction to everything, overanalysing every laugh and smile and frown. I loved him so much, but I couldn’t help but think that he would reject me at any moment. He was too good for me, and I knew that. It always felt like he was humouring me, especially at first.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” they laugh, unoffended by Sasuke’s harsh tone. “Looking back, I guess it was, but what I’m trying to tell you, is that I can see how some of your actions could have been taken as rejection by a young alpha who was expecting to be rejected.”

“But…” Sasuke says, looking lost. “I didn’t want to reject them, I don’t understand.”

“Here,” they continue patiently. “Let me explain it to you like this. When you went out to eat, you paid for yourself even though they offered, right? Because you didn't want to burden them?"

“Yeah,” Sasuke trails off, unsure what that has to do with anything.

“But to a young, hormonal alpha, you’re basically telling them that you don’t trust them to provide for you, the one thing they are trying most to convince you."

“But I wasn’t-“ Sasuke protests.

“I know you weren’t,” they reassure him. “But that’s the sort of thing that will run through an alpha’s head at that age when courting. Also, you told them you wanted to train with them because you thought they were strong because you wanted to compliment them, right?”

Sasuke blushes but nods.

“And that’s great to start with, but eventually they would probably start to wonder why you wouldn’t want to train just to spend time with them. And you also told them that you had plenty of leftovers to make their lunch with so that they wouldn’t feel like they were burdening you, right? But that just made them feel like you weren’t going out of your way to do something special for them, even though you were. Do you see what I mean now?”

Sasuke blinks, rapidly trying to wrap his head around all this new information.

“And I also have a guess as to what pushed them over the edge into thinking you were rejecting them.”

“What is it?” Sasuke demands. “Tell me.”

“Did they make that scarf for you by hand, Sasuke?”

“Yes,” says Sasuke hesitantly.

“And they scented it?”

Sasuke nods affirmative.

“Did you give anything back?”

“I… Just said thank you… is that not right?”

Itachi’s alpha shakes their head with a patient smile.

“A handmade and scented gift is the most important and meaningful courting gift that there is, Sasuke,” they explain. “It’s what you give to someone to ask them if they want to move from courting to something more serious, to intended mates.”

Sasuke blushes and feels some panic rising in his chest.

“I didn’t know!” he blurts, feeling the need to explain himself.

“I know,” they rush to reassure him. “But the etiquette dictates that the omega, if they wish to move onto that stage, gives the alpha a handmade and scented gift in return, no later than a week after the original gift was given. They must have been very nervous waiting for you, and very upset when you didn’t even let them down softly.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Sasuke whispers, mortified that he had missed something he should have known. This makes so much sense. The sudden depression, the awkwardness at training, the nerves after they had given him the scarf. He’s such an idiot. Against his will, Sasuke starts to feel tears burning at his eyes again. He messed everything up!

“Oh, Sasuke,” they say, scooting closer to him. They hesitantly lay a hand on his leg, and Sasuke makes no move to push them off. “It’s alright, you can fix it.”

“How?” he sniffs, furiously wiping away any tears that manage to escape. “They probably hate me now.”

“Come here,” they say, pulling him into a hug. And for the first time ever, Sasuke accepts a hug from his brother’s alpha.

“It’s alright,” they soothe. “We can fix this, I’ll help you.”

“What can I do?” he questions, feeling miserable.

“You need to make them something and scent it. Then you can explain what happened afterwards, but the gift should go a long way in smoothing over any ruffled feathers. I can help you make something, what do you want to make?”

Sasuke shrugs, still resting his head on his brother’s alpha’s shoulder.

“How about some cupcakes? Itachi and I were planning on doing some baking with the pup tomorrow, so I have all the supplies. And I’m sure we have some ribbon lying around, you can scent the ribbon and use it to tie up the box, how does that sound?”

“But what will you use tomorrow?” Sasuke asks, feeling a little better, but still red in the face.

“I can buy more, Sasuke, don’t worry, but this is a courting emergency, so we have to do it now, okay?”

“Okay.”

…

Itachi comes back from his errands just in time to watch his mate helping his little brother tie a ribbon around a box of cupcakes. The kitchen is covered in baking supplies and empty bowls of batter.

Did they bake cupcakes together?

Itachi can’t believe it. He had been trying to get them to get along better for years.

When Sasuke sees him standing in the door, he blushes and, holding the box of cupcakes to his chest, pushes past him and out the door with a quick nothing more than a quick and murmured greeting.

His pup wiggles in his arms and demands to be put down. He obliges and they immediately run to his alpha for a hug.

“Hey there, buddy, have a good day?”

“It was boring,” they complain. “And the mednin had cold fingers.”

Itachi’s alpha laughs.

“Well, I know something that might make you feel better,” they tease.

“What?! What?!”

“Uncle Sasuke made you something very special,” they say, bringing down a spare cupcake from on top of the counter, iced in his pup's favourite colour. The way his pup’s eyes widen at the sight of it, makes Itachi smile. “You can have it after dinner, okay, and next time we see uncle Sasuke we have to remember to say thank you.”

Itachi watches in amusement as his pup nods furiously and immediately runs off to go wash up for dinner, despite the fact that Itachi hasn’t even started cooking it yet.

“Did you and Sasuke bake together?” Itachi asks, still unbelieving of what he had seen.

You smile, understanding how crazy that must have been for Itachi to walk in on.

“Yes, we… had a little bonding session,” they say. “I’ll tell you about it later, I promise.”

Itachi accepts the answer despite his curiosity and joins his alpha is cleaning the kitchen so that he can start cooking dinner.

And if both of them were smiling too much, well, neither of them brought it up.

#young!sasuke #itachi #uchiha #sasuke #itachi x reader #reader insert #a/b/o #omegaverse #naruto #omega!itachi #alpha!reader #headcanons #gn reader #gender neutral reader #alpha x omega #omega!sasuke

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years ago

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you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame.

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him.

So he settled instead.

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again.

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game.

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then.

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat.

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited.

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time.

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment.

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped.

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest.

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #IT'S MY WIFE'S BDAY ALL THE EDDIE EMOTIONS FOR HER #ficcery

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gaylaughingdoves · 4 years ago

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I really love how you draw Dottore! he's my favorite character in genshin- do you have any hcs/ideas for how he interacts with the other harbingers? I find other people's readings of him really interesting!

take care, have a good day whenever you read this!

Aaa!! Thank you!! <3 :D And yes I absolutely have hcs about him and the other harbingers!!

(I'm gonna toss them under a cut because I have a tendency to ramble on and use a whole lotta Words-)

Alright, so Signora and Dottore:

Extraordinarily chaotic and evil sibling dynamic

They gossip, like, A Lot, it's mainly Signora talking while Dottore fidgets and works with whatever he's working on, but he gets invested in it pretty easily

Now they also can and will rat each other out when they want, absolute snitches the both of them, they find immense joy in it, however. They also know a decent number of each other's secrets and they aren't going to tell those unless given a proper bribe (which neither have received just yet)

Signora and Dottore also both do Not like Childe

They have bonded over this

Childe is gaslight girlboss gatekept from everything when Signora and Dottore are involved

Also, Signora usually isn't phased by whatever Dottore keeps in his labs, because, yk, she might be 500+ years old, which Dottore appreciates because usually people are constantly on edge in his labs

It's a pain for him to actually keep staff (alive and employed), but having another Harbinger there (even one with a reputation like Signora's) grants the people working for him an, admittedly false, sense of security. Nothing could go bad when two Harbingers are here, right?

So Actually many many things can go wrong with these two in a room with Dottore's experiments

Like don't trust them around fire? Ever? Signora knows her way around it a little bit too well to be safe, and Dottore just likes watching how things burn under different conditions soo a recipe for Arson, that's what that is

Signora also thinks Dottore is hilarious when he's angry, and Dottore just likes being antagonistic, which leads to a whole lotta bickering. It's usually lighthearted but it can get serious and it can get serious fast

But overall Dottore just sorta sees her as an older sibling-ish person? He knows if he lets something slip she's not going to go straight to the other Harbingers to gossip. Which he likes because he can just go off and rant about how stupid something is and she'll just use it as blackmail material, which he thinks is better than like. Having everyone know how much he hates a certain piece of old machinery or something-

However, he doesn't trust her too much, because?? Who in the Harbingers actually trusts each other???

Also he and Signora have Transmasc/Transfem solidarity I will not be elaborating

Dottore and Childe on the other hand:

Pure hatred from Childe's side, he straight-up despises Dottore.

After all, this is a guy whose family is one of the most important things to him, his siblings are children, children who do not know the weight of the world just yet.

And Dottore is the guy who is... well. He's known to treat kids like nothing but a base to experiment on

Now Dottore on the other hand literally just wants to dissect Childe, he's gone absolutely crazy trying to get permission to at least run tests.

I mean, What else was he going to do when the kid Pulcinella found on the side of the road started turning into an entire 10ft abyss creature??? That's part of his whole line of work!! This is literally something he studies!!!

Needless to say, he was not allowed to study Childe's Foul Legacy in any regard and it ticked him off

So yeah, just overall they Hate each other, they argue a lot, like, if the Tsarita wasn't there at meetings they would turn into fistfights

However, they both drink whatever the Genshin equivalent of Monster is

This is not a bonding point, they fight over flavors

Sounds like a dumb thing to fight over but Dottore can't stand Childe's and Childe can't stand Dottore's

This has lead to other Harbingers swapping their flavors around because they think it's entertaining to watch them fight

It actually got to the point where the Tsaritsa herself had to order them to stop switching the flavors around because Dottore and Childe are already prepped to murder each other at any moment, they don't need to make it worse

So Dottore just reserves himself to snapping at Childe with the annoyance of someone who is being blocked from something that could very easily be a big break that's being dangled over his head

For real though, Childe has so much potential for Dottore's experiments but Dottore isn't allowed to do so much as study what effect that the transformation has on Childe afterward, and he hates it

But he can't lose his funding from the Tsaritsa so he stays quiet and angrily compiles whatever information he can

Anyway, Dottore and Scaramouche:

Overall neutral actually?

Like they don't see each other much, with Dottore usually knee and elbow deep in some messed up science stuff, and Scara's work taking him out and about a lot of the time

They bicker and stuff, but overall?? They kinda just avoid talking to each other?

Sometimes, rarely, they do get put on a mission with each other, but when they happens they usually get along pretty well!

They actually have a good time snooping around places, what with Dottore's practically uncontrollable curiosity being easily triggered if there's... oh idk, dragon bones, or old machines, or abyss-related ruins, or anything in the typical Vindagyeran Architecture Style, and Scaramouche just likes to snoop and sneak around for fun, for funsies

There's been a few times when the both of them have bonded over chaotically messing something up (didn't impact them, but sure did impact whoever was living in those houses) and laughed over it, grabbed some drinks, and just hung out

They're sorta like buddies who don't see each other much so they're overall estranged but still have a good time, yk?

Scaramouche has hung out in Dottore's labs before, doesn't particularly enjoy them, what with all the machinery and people crying and whatever, thinks it's boring, but if he has to hang out there he'll find his way to Dottore's office and read his files

This gets on Dottore's nerves, but he knows a little better than to cross the minor god that is Scaramouche

And he would very much like to study Scaramouche, considering, yk, divinity abandoned by the divine?

What an odd predicament!!

What effects would that have!!

How does he still have any power!!!

The questions Dottore could have are endless!!

But Scaramouche is away enough to be sure that Dottore's interest is solidly in other things (mainly Abyssal, and Dragons, because there's always some Fatui around the dragon skeletons (Durin and Orobashi) and I have a feeling it's Dottore's doing)

And that's it so far I think? They'll probably change as more Harbingers/info on the ones we have already come out and such but that's what I have rn!! Just Dottore being a funny feral little angry science man with at least three sensible braincells, and yk what I love him for it :)

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dirtyrottenraskel · 4 years ago

Text

my take on yueki's personalities

yue

notes / personality

cocky (but also like understated confidence - r e g a l af)

kind of a nerd

maybe a little entitled, and a little bratty and suki loves to indulge her or to rile her up depending on her mood

books

seems soft but made of steel

strong sense of duty

socially intelligent - can be manipulative and suki (the dork) thinks it is so hot

aloof queen bee typa beat

supportive, both in ur day to day and in going after your big moral life goals

deep water - steady and powerful, often underestimated

untold depths, private yet surprisingly nurturing - master of deflecting away from herself

political nerd - well read, and when she has someone she trusts not to take advantage of her, she goes OFF

distrusting of most people, has been used and ignored and underestimated her whole life

patient - homegirl knows how to play the long game

excellent at pai sho / chess

she and suki have epic battles of wits - dif types of strategy but both are really into it and get a little too competitive (multiple board games have had to be replaced over the years)

loves travel bc wasn’t allowed to much, esp when she was sick

was super repressed growing up - never let her be herself or really have any sort of independence

used to sneak out and wander around in rebellion and casually sabotage plans and decisions she didn’t agree with

introverted, many opinions but keeps them to herself, discreet but well spoken

weaponizes secrets and information - doesn’t often use it but...she could

definitlyyyyy worries and overthinks and re-evaluates - worries ab social politics a lot

obsessive about picking things - wants it to be perfect

shes growing into her confidence as a leader

prefers quite intimate places

incredibly romantic

classic lit

planner for the future - visionary

kind / sweet / gentle - yes, but that’s also her “front” to a degree (seriously, i feel like she gets painted as so sweet and submissive and one dimensional by the fandom a lot of times and it freakin kills me)

INFJ-T (The Advocate) ((yes this is from 16p which i know is not super accurate but u can still catch her overall vibes from it ya know)

Creative/insightful/principled/compassionate/altruistic

sensitive/reluctant to open up/perfectionist/prone to burnout/not a fan of the ordinary

friendships / relationships

(<> indicates that they’re one of her best friends)

sokka - puppy love crushes, laugh ab it now, get into deep late night talks about responsibilities and leading, water tribe culture, prank wars (no one believes sokka when he says yue is a mean prank master (expect suki comes to see it in action lol))

katara - <> badass women friendship, totally would go to matches and protests together, tough girl shit, waterbending practice/duels - start of cautious, but then get rough in a good way bc they trust each other, they do water tribe food adventures together

toph - indulges her chaos, bonding over stupid royal upbringings, odd yet weirdly endearing pair

zuko - both sort of standoffish gay royals, but once they come to see that they are friends - take up similar spaces though, so only hang out in a group or rarely by themselves, they do hang out at like political parties and stuff when they get more comfortable together

aang - <> he has an impressive world view, yue is super studied and well read, so she and aang nerd out over past cultures together, and also their peace keeping nature, they have tea together often - usually after she and katara wipe the floor w/ each other

clothing / aesthetic:

blues and pale colors

classy and understated wealth

like those cute feminine button down shirts

dresses

like cold weather classy

complicated braids

sort of soft girl aesthetic?

pleated skirts !!!

i feel like she would wear ethically sourced fur (i don’t wear fur but idk how to get it in an ethical way - maybe it’s just fake??)

knit sweaters and skinny jeans and heeled ankle boots

light academia !!!

hella funky earrings - to mark her native pride and also cuz gay

from my readings, tattoos have a lot of cultural significance for Inuit women, and so i feel like yue would totally have some (when she comes of age ofc)

suki

notes / personality

extroverted

also very strategic

more spontaneous tho - will totally calculate the odds in a spilt second in her head and then just go for it

like still a careful planner, but willing to say fuck it, yolo if it seems right

reflects on her mistakes, but more in like a healthy way - unless it was a leadership mistake, then it eats her up inside - worries more ab keeping her girls safe and making the right call

likes lively places

total bashful romantic

manages the present and the short term - realist

loves to do lists

a little punch happy - loves to make violent threats, but also does it out of excitement and she’s just a really physical person tbh

steady, can come off as stubborn and abrasive but she really just wants what’s best for everyone she loves

harsh on herself and worries about her girls a lot

always ends up in the oddest situations

totally would kick someone’s ass for being racist/sexist/homophobic/etc

dedicated to her training and her regime

not a great cook, but she can manage

would drink monsters

has a weird relationship with femininity - took her awhile to reconcile strength and toughness and being assertive and aggressive with also wanting to feel pretty and feminine and embracing being a girl and how those things can coincide and amplify each other

abandonment issues - parents absent/dead

was imprisoned - obvi she had several almost successful escape attempts, but she got really close to breaking

was incredibly independent really early, grew up really fast and tries to make up for that now by sometimes being reckless

tough/assertive/woman of action

dry sense of humor/sarcastic - not good at nickname/pun humor tho

practical/dedicated/strong-willed/direct/honest/reliable/loyal/patient

stubborn/judgmental/difficult to relax/difficulty expressing emotions/too selfless

friendships / relationships

(<> indicates that they’re one of her best friends)

sokka - <> man they’re like platonic soulmates - she beat him up, and now they spar all the time, totally funny and crack jokes all the time, go skating together, they do shitty art together, and then show their lovers after zuko and yue come back from their high society mixers, broke her out of prison, m/f friendship !!!

katara - also sparring buddies (suki will throw down at any literally moment (and tbh so will katara)), not close but will hang in a group - go to each other for advice

toph - <> listen these two wreak havoc together, they help each other out a lot, i feel like they’re shopping buddies (similar enough style to frequent the same shops) toph knows suki won’t judge her for wanting to feel pretty and suki knows toph will be honest, they are both blunt sarcastic assholes and get along like a house on fire

zuko - <> shows zuko how to like,,,enjoy things (and how to let go of some of that pressure to be always right and the adult and in charge bc they were raised with so much responsibility on their shoulders even tho they were just kids)? she is also super protective of him (once she trusts him), one of the only ppl who can match suki fully in hand to hand combat, both do the Disappointed Parent Look when the group falls into chaos, but by themselves, the two of them end up in hijinks

aang- suki enjoys his optimism and they’re just chill bros, they love exploring abandoned placed together

clothing / aesthetic

sporty and skater mixed

ripped jeans, crewnecks, vans

green and yellow and dark red

gym clothes/athleisure - lifting style gym clothes - cut off t-shirts and bike shorts

skirts too, likes to play into femininity

she’s a gold jewelry kinda girl - but stuff that won’t hinder her movements

necklaces that end in the hollow of her throat & occasionally rings

definitely cuffs all of her jeans (it’s just bisexual culture ya know)

so many crop tops - some came like that, some were more of a diy project

yueki’s relationship!!!

nerd/jock solidarity

feel the burden of responsibility and the weight on their shoulders

they create a safe space between them, full of trust and warmth and vulnerability

yue will read suki sappy passages from poetry books while suki polishes her fans

they slow dance in the kitchen a lot

they get good at ordering takeout - and they have some weird decision making process that only they understand - bc neither of them are great cooks

yue would feel jealous of suki and sokka, if it weren’t for how stupid in love sokka was with zuko and yue can see that suki really only has eyes for her

yue is taller than suki and it amuses her to no end to pick suki up and carry her away from a fight (we all know suki could get away if she wanted to, but when ur hot tall sexy gf throws u over her shoulder,,,,,,u don’t complain)

joke they’ve adopted kataang and zukka, bc they’re all dummies, but in reality every last one of them is stupid LMAO

they love to do each other’s hair and it’s like super intimate and really cute

sometimes it’s these epic elaborate hairstyles and then at other times, they try to see how many ponytails they can fit on suki’s head and how many little braid yue can do

they travel EVERYWHERE

since yue is royalty and suki is her body guard,,,, well i mean, they totally have to see these kingdoms they are doing trade deals with in person

it helps that they're friends with a lot of them

they stay over in everything from camping so they can stargaze to ritzy hotels with hot tubs in the bathroom

yue gives suki rocks she finds on all their travels and suki lines them up on their mantle around the pictures of them in increasingly weird locations

suki loves guarding yue’s meetings bc she gets to watch her absolutely rip a new one into misogynistic old men and it never fails to bring her joy

While yue doesn’t love getting attacked, the ruthless efficiency suki defends her with is like,,,,,stupid attractive

#wow this got long #this is a mix of modern au and canon verse headcanons #but yeah #let these girls have more dimension than just soft uwu gfs #esp yue #yueki #headcanon #atla #yue #suki #yue x suki #wlw #zukka #kataang #sapphic

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booksimp · 4 years ago

Text

Flame of Autumn - Part Two

A/N: Part two of Midnight at Rita’s is finally here, everyone! Sorry it took so long, I started a new job and I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. As you can tell, I’ve named this series something different. That’s because Midnight at Rita’s was supposed to be a smut one off, but it has a mind of it’s own and has become an actual fic. This will be part two of a series called “Flame of Autumn”. This fic is going to be quite long, and more elaborate than anything I’ve written here so far. I hope you enjoy!

“Oh, fucking hell.” I curse, clapping a hand over my mouth in shock.

Azriel chuckles sardonically, running a hand through his already sex mussed curls, puffing out a shocked breath. His cheeks are an adorable shade of pink, eyes wide.

“Well said.”

For a few moments, we just sit and feel the bond thrum between us, like the plucked string of a cello. We’re still flushed and dazed, our panting breaths the only sound in the room as we stare at each other.

A strange intermingling of emotion overwhelms me. Elation, joy, desire. A desire to take hold of Azriel and never, ever be parted from him. But all of it is entirely eclipsed by a sense of dread. It wraps itself around my throat, my heart, like a noose of ice.

A mate is just another person to lose, to endanger with my own existence.

The faces of all those that have suffered to protect me, that I ultimately lost, flash across my vision. A macabre version of a scrapbook. Just as easily as he perceived my earlier insecurities, Azriel notices the rising emotions in me. With the mate bond newly revealed, I wonder if the connection we’d felt all night had been the first clue. That, and his uncanny ability to read me like an open book.

“Sabine, I don’t expect anything from you. But I- I’d like to explore this. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

His face shines with hope as he takes my hand in his, squeezing gently. A hesitant reach down the bond caresses against me. His eyes are open and earnest, a shy smile on his face. The epitome of honest and trustworthy.

I wonder what he would think if he knew Sabine isn’t my real name.

A pang of guilt shoots through me, at the dishonesty of it, and it's suddenly hard to breathe. Lying to others has become disturbingly easy over the years I’ve been in hiding. I’m skilled at it now, diversion and distraction like second nature. But the thought of keeping up the ruse with my mate is unbearable. Having to lie every day, and to the person who should know the absolute truth of myself? I can’t do it. I won’t do it.

I’m opening my mouth to admit things I haven’t in years, when my mothers face flashes through my mind. She was the first to implore me to hide my abilities, and the first to die because of them.

“You threaten his crown. He will destroy everything you love to keep you quiet, my girl. You cannot give him more ammunition. You get close to no one. You keep moving. Don’t ever come back here.”

Her words ring in my ears like I’m hearing them for the first time. I shut my mouth with a snap. I can’t tell Azriel anything, for fear of bringing the wrath of my father down on him. Can I even stay in Velaris?

When I first heard of the hidden city of the Night Court, heavily guarded by the most powerful High Lord, I rejoiced. Isolated and with a varied population, it made the perfect hiding place. Not to mention that Velaris is far outside the reach of my fathers court. I’ve felt almost safe here, and the thought of leaving this city, of leaving Azriel, has my heart sinking into my stomach. Azriel slowly places a hand on my cheek, breaking me free of my internal struggle. Concern shapes his features, hazel eyes heartbreakingly gentle. He is too perceptive to not see the indecision and fear in me, bond or not. Without meaning to, I speak.

“Okay.”

A relieved grin graces his lips. I feel the apprehension fading from him, being replaced with soft joy. It makes my decision for me. Azriel is an Illyrian, not exactly an easy target. We’re in the safest place there is for me. If I guard my secret well enough, I can stay. Stay, and see where this newfound bond leads us. I pray to the Cauldron that I’m not making a stupid, selfish mistake.

“Are you sure?” His brow furrows, intent on my response.

In that moment, I know that no matter how strongly he feels, Azriel will let me walk away. If I decide he’s not what I want, he would honor my choice no questions asked. It only makes me more certain of my decision. I’ve never been one to tolerate a controlling male.

“Absolutely. Are you?” I ask, inching closer to him, still clutching the sheets against myself.

His eyes flicker down to my chest, and back to my eyes. When a faint blush paints his cheeks, I nearly drop the bedding in shock. So the confident male can get flustered. I file the information away for later, barely containing a smirk.

“Of course I am, I’ve waited almost six hundred years for you.” His voice is low, each syllable more sure than the last.

My heart soars inside my chest at his words. Depthless hazel eyes bore into mine, and his shadows brush against my bare skin. They send shivers all along my body, and I edge even closer to him. He meets me in the middle of the bed, his forehead touching mine as his gaze roves over me like I’m a precious, once lost jewel. I do the same, drinking in the sight of the magnificent shadowsinger before me. My mate.

Long ago, some inexplicable force decided that he belonged to me, and I him. I wonder what makes us so compatible, and I find I’m excited to discover every reason for myself. I want to know all the simple, small details of him like the back of my hand. I want to memorize the planes of his face, every color in his eyes.

If my mother could meet him, I imagine she’d remark on the beautiful grandchildren we’d make her. It's that thought, and the sudden realization that we are both very naked, that has a fierce blush coloring my face.

“Maybe we should get dressed.” I whisper, only slightly breathless.

Azriel’s eyes run along my sheet-clad form once more, before he pins me with that now familiar alluring smile.

“As you wish.”

He says again, only making me more flushed at the memory. Without an ounce of shame, the Illyrian rises to his feet and walks to the dresser at the other end of the room. He begins digging through the drawers, before selecting some grey sweatpants and a long sleeve black shirt for himself. I’m still wrapped in his sheets, attempting to not gawk at the unobstructed view of his ass, when Azriel looks over his shoulder at me. He smirks at my obvious observation of his body.

“Do you want something other than your dress? Something more comfortable?”

I look down at the rumpled silk garment on the floor and grimace. He’s right, the thought of shimmying myself into it right now is about as appealing as a cold bath in the middle of winter.

“Yes please. Preferably something a bit warmer.”

He nods, and picks a few items from his dresser. He places them on the bed before me and fixes me with a sweet, slightly shy grin.

“Are you hungry? I have pastries from the bakery down the street. I could make coffee?”

My ears perk at the mention of food, and my stomach grumbles in agreement. I like that instead of pushing me to continue our conversation about our future, he’s making sure I’m fed and comfortable. That warm, light sensation flutters in my belly again.

“I never turn down coffee or carbs.” I manage to get out, smiling coyly.

“Noted.” Azriel smiles again, a quiet amusement in his eyes.

He leaves me to change, heading towards the kitchen to start the coffee. I put on the sweatshirt and black briefs left for me. Both are too big, but they’re warm and soft against my skin. Worlds better than the dress. I pull the collar of the sweatshirt up to my nose and inhale his scent of cedar and moonlight and rain. Gods, what does he bathe in that makes him smell so good?

For the first time all night, I’m able to observe Azriel’s bedroom. My eyes widen as I take in the beautiful A frame ceiling with exposed wooden beams. The soft patter of rain on glass draws my eyes to the east wall, which is made entirely of paneled windows. Silver rivulets of water run down their surface, reflecting flickering beams of moonlight into the room. The floors are a dark oak, the walls a calming sage.

Candles burn on Azriel’s overflowing bookcase, and the fireplace crackles merrily on the opposite wall. I reach out hesitantly with my ability, and feel the heat of each flame flicker inside my awareness. For a moment, I watch the candle flames dance and twist under my will. It's rare that I ever have the chance to explore my gift, the small flames too often exploding into an uncontrolled inferno that attracts attention. But I can’t help playing just a little.

The sound of a kettle whistling startles me from my reverie, and a few tea lights extinguish entirely. I wince, and quickly light them again before following Azriel into the kitchen.

He’s at the counter, adding hot water to a french press. The earthy scent of coffee tickles my nose as he presses the grounds down, the muscles of his arm flexing deliciously.

“How do you take your coffee?” He asks, gesturing towards a pale box of pastries for me to choose from.

“Cream and sugar. Lots of cream.”

“You like your coffee sweet.” He smiles to himself as he pours extra cream and sugar into my cup, as if adding the observance to a mental list.

I pad closer and peer at the box of pastries over his broad shoulder. On the front it reads ‘Diana’s Bakery and Coffeehouse’ in elegant script. I bite my lip to keep from laughing as I open the familiar box, and take a bagel from inside.

He notices me smiling at the pastries and raises a thick eyebrow at me, the corner of his lip quirking up.

“What is it?”

“Nothing it's just - well I work at Diana’s.” I laugh, taking a bite of the magically warmed bagel after liberally smearing it with cream cheese.

“You do? But I’ve been in there everyday this week, I haven’t seen you.”

He passes my mug to me, filled to the brim with creamy coffee, and I take a careful sip. He leans against the marble counter, hazel eyes looking me up and down, that small smirk making an appearance once again. What is it about males liking us in their clothes? Not that I’m complaining.

“Well, you wouldn’t. I work in the back with Diana as her baking apprentice. I even baked those cinnamon rolls.”

I know they’re mine by the slightly imperfect glazing. Diana is meticulous and every single treat she bakes is always flawless.

He points to the icing covered cinnamon rolls inside the box, mouth gaping in shock.

“These cinnamon rolls? They’re the best I’ve ever had. I’ve been buying you guys out everyday.” Azriel exclaims, eyes wide and alight with surprise.

“Oh, so you’re the reason I’ve had to make twice as many recently?” I chuckle, pink staining my cheeks. The fact that Azriel loves my baking brings me way too much delight to be proper.

“I’m sorry, but Cassian and I can’t get enough of them. What do you do to them? They’re like biting into a cloud!”

“I can’t tell you that! It's a secret recipe!” I wink, a goofy grin on my face.

Azriel rolls his eyes and smiles, grumbling about how secretive bakers are as he deposits a large mound of cinnamon rolls onto a plate. A truly genuine smile breaks across my face at the sight. He collects his own mug and leads me to a comfy couch, where we both plop down and tuck into our midnight snacks.

I can’t help but watch him, completely mystified. This sexy, adorable male is my mate? I’ve never felt lucky a day in my life, but as Azriel finishes his third cinnamon roll, I can’t help but feel like the fates smiled on this one aspect of my life. Having finished my bagel, I sip on my coffee and relax into the couch. I’ve been running for a long time, keeping everyone at arm's length, never staying in one place for more than a few years. But maybe I can stay hidden in Velaris and keep Azriel a lot closer. Maybe I don’t have to be alone. I want that future so badly it becomes hard to breath.

“So you bake. You dance at Rita’s. What else?”

Azriel’s voice brings me back to the present, and I glance up from my coffee cup. Silent laughter dances in the hazel depths of his eyes, his plate of pastries discarded on the coffee table. Suddenly self conscious under his intent gaze, I reach a hand up to feel the tangled masses of my dark hair. I grimace when I realize what a mess it’s become. It will probably need to be dyed again as well.

“I play music. Mostly the piano. I write sometimes. And you?”

The admissions, however small, make my throat tight with anxiety. I haven’t told anyone anything true about myself in years, and I haven’t touched a piano in just as long. The feeling is nerve wracking, and I can’t help but feel exposed. My eyes follow the upward curve of his lips as he smiles at me, one arm draped over the back of the couch.

“I can see you playing piano. You have the hands for it.”

I blush at his statement, my gaze falling to my entirely ordinary hands. What does that even mean?

“I’m something of a homebody. If I’m not with my brothers, I’m probably here with a book. I train, I work, I come home."

That explains the mountains of novels all over his room. And the incredible body. He reaches over and runs a hand through my slightly curling hair, the hours I’d spent straightening it made useless. He curls one of the ringlets around his finger, giving it a slight tug, before he tucks it behind my ear. Every single nervous thought evaporates at his touch.

“I like your hair like this, especially since I’m the one who made it this messy.”

He murmurs, a sudden heat in his eyes. I feel my body warm in response to that look, and I have to divert my gaze down at my lap to keep from jumping him right there. Again.

“You’re a shameless flirt, shadowsinger.” I mutter, playing with the silver ring of leaves on my finger, noticing that his thigh is now pressed against mine. When had he moved so close?

“Not usually, trust me. My brothers would be astonished.” He laughs, running a hand through his own messy hair.

“Not usually?” I trace a finger along the back of his hand, fascinated by the combination of scarring and complex veins.

He shivers slightly, and I smile in satisfaction. He’s not the only one who can play that game.

“I make exceptions for my mate.” He whispers, taking my hand from his and pressing a kiss to my palm, lips soft and warm.

“I was supposed to have drinks with my brothers. They must think I decided to stay in.” He laughs against my skin, kissing his way to the pulse point of my wrist.

“Little do they know, huh?” I gasp, made breathless by his ministrations and the thought of exactly why he’d ditched his brothers tonight.

“Little do they know. When you’re ready, I - uh. I know they’d love to meet you.” He looks up at me, cheeks filling with color as he straightens.

My stomach drops, and a bit of reality comes crashing down. A mate is one thing, but letting his family into my life? They’d be two more people to lie to, two more people in danger because of me. I avoid any straight answers, and decide to divert his attention elsewhere.

“Tell me about them?” I drink from my mug, using it as an excuse to break eye contact. I can’t shake the feeling that he can see down to the very truth of me when our gazes meet.

“Their names are Cassian and Rhys. Complete idiots. But those two have saved my life in so many ways.” His eyes glow with a warm, far away look, a goofy smile on his face.

“It sounds like you love them very much.” I speak softly, not wanting that radiant look to ever leave his face.

“I do. Do you have any siblings?” His eyes flicker back to me, the distance clearing from them.

“An older brother. Micah.” I try not to let my voice break on his name, the longing slamming into my chest like a horse at a full sprint.

I curse myself for using my brother's real name, a slip up I wouldn’t have made with anyone else. Azriel’s mere presence is enough to disarm me, and it's a struggle to focus with him this close. I haven’t seen Micah since the day our mother was murdered by my fathers sentries, and we both fled for our lives. In opposite directions. The day that started my life on the run.

“Are you two close?” Azriel’s shadows curl around me as he squeezes my hand in silent support, like he already knows the answer.

“We used to be, when we were young. Not so much anymore.”

I tense, hoping that he doesn’t push the subject. I can’t exactly tell him the truth of our forced estrangement. At least not yet.

“Where are you from?”

His tone is light, and I am endlessly grateful for the change in conversation. He doesn’t seem to miss a thing when it comes to me. The thought is a constant inkling of worry in the back of my head.

“Not Velaris.” I reply quickly.

It technically isn’t a lie, but the evasion feels even worse.

“I could’ve guessed that, love. I’ve lived here for hundreds of years, if you lived in Velaris I would’ve found you sooner. Are you from the Night Court?”

He chuckles, taking up another strand of my hair to play with. For a moment, I forget that he’s waiting on a response.

“No, Summer Court. Adriata. Did you grow up in Illyria?”

I attempt to change the subject, the subterfuge like spoiled milk in my stomach. I wish I could tell him all about my little cottage on the outskirts of the Autumn Court, about my mothers smile, and Micah’s penchant for getting me into trouble. Instead, I have to wriggle my way out of letting him get to know me. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Unfortunately, I did.” Shadows rise from deep within his eyes, blotting out almost all the light in them.

I’ve heard many stories about the brutality of Illyria. Their perilous winters and sprawling mountains, the discipline that they ingrain into their children, how they throw themselves into the path of war. I wonder who put the scars on his hands, his wings, and I feel sick for an entirely different reason.

I search his eyes for answers, glimpsing an age old sadness there. I feel him trying to shove it down deep, but he can’t hide from me anymore than I can from him. A burning rage seethes in my chest at that sadness. It makes me want to grow claws and rip and tear, scorch those responsible with my flames.

He closes his eyes and rests his head where my shoulder and collarbone meet, a deep sigh leaving him. From the tension in his body, I know he wants me to let the topic drop. So instead of asking the questions on the tip of my tongue, I kiss the top of his head and stroke his back softly. He practically purrs, pressing closer, telling me to continue. I smile softly, trailing my fingers down his spine in slow circles. His back is deliciously firm, and rippling with muscles from his often used wings. Heat scorches across my face as I remember how I brought him over the edge just by kissing them, the absolute unleashing of it.

“I- I didn’t realize. That, well um- your wings. That they were so-“ I stutter pitifully, the blush spreading down my neck.

Azriel leans back to meet my eyes, a slight smile beginning on his face, previous troubles forgotten.

“You didn’t know?” He asks, disbelief in his tone and a glint of amusement in his eye.

“No, they just looked very kissable.”

He throws his head back and gives a loud, full belly laugh. I beam at the musical sound, satisfaction flowing through me. I want to make him laugh like that again and again.

“An Illyrian males wings are the most sensitive part of their body. If touched in the perfect spot, we can finish from that alone. As you saw. But they are also our greatest weapon, and we protect them accordingly. For that reason, I usually keep them far away from any - partners.” He explains after sobering from his laughter, voice soft and a slight blush painting his elegant cheekbones.

“But you make exceptions for your mate?” I ask, eyes downcast as I play with the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

“I do. Only for you.” He takes my hands from his sleeve, and presses them to his lips once again.

I glance up at him, to find his eyes already on me. The warmth and tenderness I find there has my heart flying in my chest, and tears pricking my eyes. I blink them away hurriedly, looking to his wings instead of the intense emotion he’s showing me. For some reason, the adoration I see there has a small burst of fear running through me.

“I’m glad you let me touch them. They’re beautiful.” I whisper reverently as l behold the incredible expanse of his wings.

Vibrant plum and lavender, veined with maroon and the silver of scar tissue. I can’t even think of these beautiful, majestic wings being mutilated like that. My hands ache to touch them again, feel their silky warmth.

“You definitely showed your appreciation for them.” He leans closer, his breath fanning across my cheek as he whispers in my ear.

It sends shivers deep into my core, and I have to squeeze my thighs together and hope he doesn’t catch my scent. The confident, seductive Azriel of earlier tonight is back.

“Not yet I haven’t.” I murmur, emboldened by my renewed need for him.

The need comes quickly, overwhelmingly. Especially now that I know what being with him is like. Entirely world shattering. He may have ruined every other male for me. Again, not that I’m complaining. A low rumble comes from deep in his chest, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me onto his lap with ease.

“Is that so?” There’s a sultry promise in his voice, and I feel him stir against my thigh.

The room is filled with our mingled arousal as he inhales against my neck.

“I still can’t believe I found you.” He groans, pressing kisses against my throat.

I let my eyes fall closed, shocked anew at how easily he reduces me to a gasping mess. His hands begin to roam over my hips and waist, his touch worshipping and disbelieving. When I begin to slowly move myself over his growing arousal, I feel a shift in him. His hands halt their exploration, and he tenses beneath me. I open my eyes to find his face veiled with worry, his brow creasing.

“You don’t have to, Sabine.” He cups my face in his hands, dark eyes gleaming with concern.

I try not to flinch at the false name, and I wonder what his voice would sound like saying the name my mother gave me.

Shoving those thoughts away, I shake my head, a small grin forming on my lips. Does he not see how infatuated I am already? Of course I don’t have to, but I want to.

“Az, you idiot.”

And with that, I plant my lips on his. He doesn’t need further convincing. His body responds to mine eagerly, a low growl building in his chest. My back meets the leather couch as Azriel maneuvers himself above me, his hands sliding under the hem of my sweatshirt. He is somehow gentle and commanding all at once, his skin burning hot against mine. I sigh into the kiss as I give myself to him, entirely content to do so this time.

“You are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”

He whispers against my lips, that reverent tone back in full force. My eyes prick as my chest fills with equal parts warmth and fear. I can see how easy it would be to love my mate. To fall fast and completely. And the part of me that’s been running scared from those I once loved is terrified.

“I’m scared.” I murmur back, surprised at my own honesty.

I feel his frown against my lips, and he only holds me tighter.

“I’m scared too, love. But I won’t ever hurt you. You’re - You are everything.” His eyes, soft and dark and endlessly kind, convince me.

I smile sheepishly at him, holding out my left pinky.

“Promise?”

Without hesitation, he wraps his finger around mine.

“I promise.”

The next morning, sunlight streaming in through the expansive windows wakes me. A sleepy contentment keeps me drowsy and warm, and I stretch like a cat after a particularly restful nap.

“Good morning.”

Cauldron, his morning voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I blink my eyes open, the blurry image of a very amused Azriel coming into focus. His black hair is tousled and falling onto his forehead, and pillow marks color his cheeks.

Delicious.

I cuddle closer to him instead of replying, not ready to start the day yet. He wraps both arms around me as I bury my head in his very bare chest. Memories of last night rise to the surface, and I feel my cheeks warm. After his pinky promise, Azriel made love to me. That's the only way to describe the beautiful, tender way he touched me. He made sure every ounce of doubt was replaced with complete trust. It was the most intimate I had ever been with anyone in my entire life.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” He asks, a teasing grin curling his full lips.

I can’t help but remember those lips on my body in the living room. And the bedroom. And the bathtub. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep until dawn.

“W-What did I say?” I can only imagine the mortifying things my sleep self has to say to this male.

“Just my name. Over and over again.” His voice deepens, eyes darkening.

“Shut up! I did not!” I hiss, giving his shoulder a shove.

He only chuckles and waggles a brow at me, before placing a kiss to my forehead. He smells even better in the morning, his cedar scent more potent. How is that even possible?

“How did you sleep?”

He brushes my hair over my shoulder, peppering even more kisses across my collarbone. I shiver under his attention, my eyes falling closed again.

“Better than I have in a long time.” I admit, my voice still raspy with sleep.

“So did I.”

He runs gentle hands through my hair, our legs still entwined intimately. I haven’t felt this safe and content in someone’s arms since I was a girl, when my mom would hold me after I woke from nightmares about monsters under my bed. Azriel already feels like home, and the thought doesn’t scare me as badly as it did last night. Thoughts of my father seem distant and insignificant now, chased away by the bright morning light and warmth of my mate’s presence.

“I wish I could stay here with you all day, baby.” He groans, a deep sigh leaving him. I can feel his reluctance in how firmly he presses me to him, strong arms locking me against his chest.

“Then stay.” I grumble moodily, a frown curling my lips downwards. I know we can’t stay sequestered in his apartment forever, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.

“I have to do some work for my brother today, but you’re more than welcome to stay in my bed. In fact, I hope you do.” Azriel chuckles, untangling his limbs from mine and kneeling before me. He drops a tender, lingering kiss on my lips before standing.

My cheeks warm as my blood sings in my veins, and my breath catches in my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way his touch affects me. I hope I never do.

“Oh? What kind of work do you do for him? Does he have his own shop or something?” I yawn my way through the question, cuddling myself into his vacated warm spot.

Azriel smiles over his shoulder at me, while sliding into Illyrian fighting leathers. My mouth goes dry at how the skin tight garment outlines his muscular thighs and powerful chest, accentuating the golden tones of his skin. Hubba Hubba.

“Actually, Rhysand is High Lord of the Night Court. I’m his Spymaster. I have spying to do.” His lips twitch as if he’s trying to not let the easy smile fall from his face as he continues dressing. He watches for my reaction intently.

The blood in my veins turns to ice, freezing my heart in place as my eyes shoot open in shock.

Azriel’s brother Rhys is... Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. All sleep leaves my body, and I have to fight to stay still. Every instinct is screaming at me to run, run far and fast.

Because Rhysand knows my father, seeing as he’s High Lord of the Autumn Court.

In fact, I know Beron has met Rhysand many times. He often spoke about the half breed bastard who challenged his authority at meetings.

I met Rhysand at Beron’s court once, when I was barely fifteen. It's been decades, but he could easily recognize me as Beron’s bastard daughter. And he could tell my father where I am, maybe even deliver me to him.

Even if he doesn’t recognize me, grown and changed as I am, Rhysand is a Daemati. He could rip the truth from my own mind with hardly a thought. And the High Lord of the Night Court has a reputation for finding pleasure in that sort of thing. The thought has me shivering despite the warm blankets tucked around me.

“Oh. You didn’t mention that last night.” I rasp, trying not to look like I’m about to throw up. My stomach roils, and my palms dampen with cold sweat.

“I forget that he's High Lord sometimes. He’s just Rhys to me.” Azriel shrugs, with his back now turned to me as he readies himself for the day. I thank the Cauldron for it.

I can only imagine the stark horror in my expression, and I take a few extra moments to reign my emotions in. Gods, no wonder Azriel can read me so effortlessly. It's not only because of the bond, he’s a spymaster. Reading people is his job. A job he performs for a mind stealing, murdering monster of a High Lord. Bile rises in my throat, and I feel my heart crack in my chest.

Azriel is not who I thought he was. The trustworthy, gentle male I spent the night with could just be another mask he wears. A tremble begins deep within me.

“When will you be back?” I try to sound eager, like I can’t wait for his return.

In reality, I’m trying to find out how far away I can get before he even realizes I’m gone.

“Tonight. I just need to visit some - colleagues in another court.” He says, while lacing his sturdy looking boots into place.

What court is he ‘visiting’? Will he be spying on other High Lords for Rhysand? Despite the new revelations about his dangerous brother, I feel a stab of fear for my mate. Any High Lord would slaughter him in a moment if they caught him spying on the Daemati’s behalf.

“Will you be safe?” I hear the worry in my own voice, and Azriel either hears it as well or can feel it from me. Damn mate bond.

The male perches on the bed next to me, a reassuring smile on his striking face. The two versions of him that exist in my head clash terribly; the vulnerable, kind Azriel of last night and the formidable Spymaster I’ve heard grave stories about. My gaze falls to the dark dagger strapped to his leg. Truth Teller. I try not to shiver as the light glints lethally off its razored edge. I wonder how many truths he’s tortured out of his enemies using it.

“Of course. Always, but especially now.” Azriel strokes stray curls out of my face, his eyes brimming with unabashed tenderness. He kisses me soundly, a promise to return.

My stomach flips and suddenly my heart is no longer racing out of fear. For a moment, I almost forget the hidden lethalness and only see Az. But that’s foolish. I can’t shiver at the sight of his famed blade and crave his touch at the same time.

“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask, mentally calculating how long I have to leave Velaris. I go through the well rehearsed steps of my escape plan, focusing on mundane details to keep the fear and longing from rendering me completely useless.

“Of course.” Shadows of worry cloud his eyes, and I can almost see the sharp, spy's mind calculating behind them.

Azriel kisses me once more, his lips hesitant for the very first time.

His mouth tastes like sorrow, and I feel a flicker of something down the bond. It's gone too quickly for me to decipher it. I curse internally, hoping he only thinks I’m intimidated by his brother’s position. Between the bond and his spymaster abilities, who knows what he can decipher from my reaction alone.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He stands, tucking his wings in close and letting his shoulders droop slightly.

He searches my face, lips slightly turned down at the corners, brow furrowed.

“I’ll be here.” The lie burns my throat like acid, and I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

Instead, I pretend to settle deeper into the bed, closing my eyes as I bring the blankets up to my chin. I don’t want to see the confusion and worry in his gaze. And I can’t watch him leave, knowing that I may never see him again. Azriel squeezes my thigh softly, whispering another farewell as he leaves the room with a sigh.

I wait until I no longer feel the thrumming current that is Azriel’s presence, when I know he’s well and truly gone. Then I spring into action. I burst from the bed, and head straight for Azriel’s dresser. I yank a pair of sweats from the drawer and pull them on hurriedly, shaking so hard it takes me three tries to get my legs through the correct hole. I practically run through the living room, propelled forwards by thoughts of obliterated minds and the dank cells beneath the Autumn Court.

I glimpse the forgotten mugs and pastry box from last night on the coffee table. Tears prick my eyes at the memory of the hope I felt during that meal. I told Azriel, my mate, more than I’ve shared with anyone in years. He let me see some of the anguish he carries with him, buried so deep it's become a part of him. I gave my body to him. And he felt like home. Can I really run from that?

Yes, I can. I have to. I was a fool to think that I could ever be outside my father’s reach.

On impulse, I hunt down a pen from the kitchen cabinets and scrawl a quick, cowardly note on a scrap of paper. Shame coats my tongue so thoroughly I think I may choke on it.

I’m sorry. - S

With the note finished, I raise the hood to conceal my face and tear down the stairs, avoiding the elevator Azriel first kissed me in. Soon enough, my bare feet are slapping against the rain slick pavement, my heart cracking with every step. I don’t stop to notice the people that watch me fly by, or the sun shining over the Sidra. I let the fear cloud every guilty thought, until all I know is adrenaline.

Once I reach my apartment, I change into clothes more appropriate for an escape attempt, and collect my emergency bag from beneath some loose floorboards. Not the most creative hiding spot, but it’s better than my underwear drawer.

Less than an hour later, I’m standing on the rickety, wooden deck of a foreign boat, sailing away from Velaris. Tradesmen man their vessel, hardly paying attention to me as I stare out over the water from their starboard side. I can imagine the mystery I pose. A lone, cloaked female, begging to stow away on their watercraft.

The money I slipped to their captain keeps the curious glances to a minimum, and I hope it keeps their mouths shut in the future. Either way, I won’t be settling where I first disembark. I’m not entirely sure where I’ll go yet, but maybe that’s for the best. If I’m entirely impulsive, my actions will be harder to predict.

I’ve run scared so many times over the years that I’ve lost count, but I’ve never been so conflicted. Every mile I put between me and the shore of the Sidra is another knife shoved up under my ribs, and it becomes harder and harder to breath. Eventually, the vibrant colors of the Rainbow fade from view and the citrus scent of the river becomes the salty brine of the ocean. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall. The hood of my cloak covers my face anyway.

“Goodbye, Az.”

#Azriel #azrielfanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotarsmut #fanfiction #Feysand #nesta archeron #archeron sisters #nessian #fluff #Smut #angst #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #elriel #The Night Court #autumn court #velaris

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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years ago

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Stuttered Confessions and Soft Kisses

Fandom: Sense8

Pairing: Amanita Caplan x Nomi Marks

Read on AO3

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Nomi was walking on clouds. Well, not literally obviously, but she was pretty sure this weight-less sensation would be what it would feel like. Her heart felt like it was racing and also just the most full it had ever been. She didn’t even mind that the rain had left them stranded in under this bus stop, hell, she was ready to thank it and hope it continued for a while longer.

Here she was, nearly at the end of her fifth (fifth!) date with the single most incredible person she had ever met, and Nomi felt like she was in a dream. How was this her life?

She was not the type of girl things like this happened to. Like come on, meeting who was surely going to be the love of her life in a bookshop? Her saying yes to a date? And then again to a second one?

And yet. Here she was. As happy as all those sappy love songs always made puppy love out to be. She had always assumed that to be a load of crap. Maybe she owed them an apology for doubting the sentiment, but the music was still too sweet for her.

She did not want to burst the bubble, afraid of ruining the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had not told Amanita about …her. Not yet. About her past. Did it matter? Like, was it important Amanita know right now? What did it matter? The risks of telling the truth were far too great, and Nomi had never considered herself to be gambler.

Still. They had been on five dates. Nomi had come home from the first date of her most secret dreams, and she had known she needed to tell her. Even back then, it was obvious that Amanita was not just another person she would get to know and then move on from. Something about her was magnetic. Addictive. And also because she did not know what falling in love felt like, but she thought it was the endless butterflies in her stomach at the sight of Amanita’s smile, or the warmth that had spread and lingered through the night from her simple hug at the end of the night. Or maybe it was the perfect impression of her captivating eyes that had tattooed themselves into Nomi’s brain. Or maybe it was all of the above.

The risk though. The inevitable pain. Nomi was no stranger to pain, hell, she was more intimately familiar with pain than with this strange joy, which is why she needed to tell Amanita the truth. Because as much as it would hurt if Amanita decided to walk away, Nomi would always remember her for being the first partner she had had who had seen her. Truly seen her, and liked what she had seen.

So today.

She would tell her today.

At the end of their date.

She would tell Amanita.

Shit.

She did not want this rain to stop. The rain stopping meant they could walk to Nomi’s apartment. Meant it would be time for Nomi to confess. That Amanita would walk away.

She did not want to leave this little cocoon they were in, where Amanita was huddling close to Nomi, an arm slung across her waist, shivering slightly in the face of the rain’s chill. She did not want to walk towards her heartbreak.

Because this was her, right? In what world could she hope for a story that didn’t end with her heart broken? What frame of reference did she have for unfettered happiness?

“Bloody rains never rain when one is inside, always insist on ruining lovely days.” Amanita gritted through her teeth as she tried to wind her shawl tighter around herself.

Nomi hummed, mind still worrying over the coming confession. She glanced outside the glass of the bus stop they were standing in. “I don’t know. I always found rain to be cathartic. A way for the world to relieve itself of whatever burdens it had. I could stay comfortable in my room, inside my blankets, I slept easiest when it rained.”

Remembering herself, a faint blush painted her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “I mean , that is-”

Only to stop in the face of Amanita’s wide eyes and slightly open mouth.

Nomi ducked her head. “Sorry.”

Amanita shook her head vigorously. “Don’t apologize. That was beautiful. I had never thought of it like that.”

Nomi shrugged again, still keeping her eyes to the ground. Until she felt a soft touch to her temple, Amanita’s hand clammy where it was lightly cupping the side of her head. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I love to hear about how you see the world.”

The blush returned stronger than ever to Nomi’s cheeks.

Amanita’s lips quirked, and she leaned closer, making Nomi’s breath hitch. Just as Amanita was about to kiss her (their first kiss! Nomi’s brain was blue screening at the most inconvenient of times!) though, a car came roaring out of nowhere. Speeding down the road so fast it sprayed them with the puddle water, making them jump apart.

Nomi reached to grab Amanita’s wrist as the other woman shouted curses at the long gone car. When Amanita turned to face her, Nomi knew she must be in love. Even with dirty water dripping down her face, and eyes fuming with outrage, Amanita was the most magnificent sight she had seen.

Unable to help herself, she started laughing. Amanita scowled at her for another moment before cracking, and soon they were both leaning on each other as they laughed. When she finally caught her breath, Nomi straightened up and reached into her bag, pulling out some wipes. Passing a couple to Amanita, she wiped off her glasses, and then her face.

“And here I was thinking this date was like something out of a dream.” Amanita muttered as she threw their wipes into the nearby trash can.

Nomi just grinned, “I like this better. Because it makes it more real.”

Amanita’s shoulders dropped as she seemed to soften. “Yeah, I suppose there is that.”

Feeling brave, Nomi approached Amanita, one hand tentatively cupping the shorter woman’s cheek. Amanita leaned into her hand, eyes lighting up in anticipation.

Swallowing down the fear, Nomi leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t a “fireworks” or “angels singing” kind of kiss. It was soft lips on chapped lips, gentle hands cradling one another, two people sharing a connection with the potential to grow into so much more.

It was real, and it was perfect.

When they parted, they stayed close, leaning their foreheads against each other.

Nomi was afraid to open her eyes, afraid that this would all have actually been an elaborate fantasy her mind had made up. Her breath shook, and only Amanita’s wounded noise and finger brushing away a tear made her realize she was crying.

“Nomi? What’s wrong?” Amanita whispered.

Nomi just shook her head, body trembling as the words lodged themselves in their throat.

“Oh honey.” Amanita said, so gently, and folded her into her arms, Nomi clutching at her sides, trying to calm down and push down the sobs that kept rising up.

Amanita held her through it, calmly rubbing at her back, her other hand curved around the back of her head. When Nomi was able to see past the tears, she stepped away, arms wrapping themselves tightly against her chest in a gesture she had become familiar to over many years of missing touches. Amanita recognized she needed space and gave it to her, leaving another immense wave of gratitude to flow through Nomi. She did not think she could do this if Amanita was touching her. Wasn’t sure she could do it otherwise either, but if not now, then. Then, she might not survive whenever Amanita left.

“You need to know something.” Nomi said.

Amanita blinked, then nodded hesitantly.

“I-um. It’s important. It’s a part of me. And I can’t. If this can be more. And I want it to be. You need to know. Now.” Nomi stuttered.

Amanita released a breath. “Okay. What do I need to know?”

Here it was.

The moment of truth.

The moment of heartbreak.

The moment where all the love and concern in Amanita’s eyes would leave. Nomi knew her enough to not disrespect her by thinking she’d be disgusted.

“I.” Nomi straightened her spine, taking in a deep breath and exhaling. “I’m trans. I wasn’t born… I am a woman.” she finished. She was a woman. Had been one from birth. No matter whatever anyone else had to say about it.

“Oh.” Amanita said.

Nomi’s eyes focused beyond her shoulder, heart racing with fear. She couldn’t meet the other woman’s eyes. Not until she came close enough for Nomi to feel her body heat.

Nomi fought to keep the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from falling.

“Would you please look at me?” Amanita asked, voice gentle.

Clenching her jaw, Nomi inhaled once, eyes closing. When she exhaled, she opened her eyes. Amanita’s dark eyes were sparkling in the streetlight.

She let out a sob when she saw the same love and concern there, along with something that almost looked like pride.

“Can I hug you?” Amanita asked. Through blurry vision, Nomi nodded, letting Amanita embrace her again.

Where the last hug had felt like a desperate grasp to the last bit of comfort and affection she would receive, this one was so much more. This one felt like home.

“Thank you so much for sharing that with me Nomi. And I am so sorry that you have been caused so much pain because of that. The world is so stupid and it sucks. But I promise you. It is not a deal breaker for me.”

Nomi’s shoulders kept trembling.

“You are perfect just as you are. And anyone who has ever made you think otherwise can go fuck off. Do you hear me?”

Nomi let out a watery chuckle, and felt Amanita press a smile to the side of her temple.

“I would really like to go on another date with you. How does that sound?” Amanita whispered in her ear.

Nomi clutched her tighter. “Like a dream come true.”

Amanita laughed and nudged her upright, grinning so brightly, Nomi felt blinded. “Let’s get you home. Sooner I drop you off, sooner I can pick you up for our next date.”

This time, Amanita was the one who kissed her.

Nomi opened her eyes as soon as it was over. She did not want to miss a single moment with Amanita. Because this wasn’t a dream, and that made it so much better.

#my fic #my writing #sense8 #amanita caplan #nomi marks #nomanita #sense8 fic #let me know what you think!

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

_______________

A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

______________________________

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anywhozits · 5 years ago

Text

A Christmas Announcement

Rating: T Words: 5172

Verse: Canonverse Pairing: Kristanna

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

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

READ ON AO3 HERE

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

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

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

But two people were thus far missing from the party.

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

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

But still so beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I remember,” he said.

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

Kristoff shook his head. “Probably not—”

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

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

Anna rolled her eyes. “Very helpful.”

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

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

“You know you’re the Queen, right?”

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

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

“Yes, I know. What’s your point?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh—I don’t know. Maybe … four?”

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

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

“Always, my sweet love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aww, Kris. You’re so cute.”

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

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

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

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

Come on, little one. Move.

But still nothing.

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

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

Her fabulous sister, first.

“Elsa, I’m so glad you came!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hungry?”

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

“Uh—herring?”

“Lutefisk.”

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

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

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

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

“I think your King already has you covered.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or…

OR…

OR!

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

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

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

They continued to look at her, confused as ever.

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

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

Still bouncing, Anna giggled. “Oooh tickly!”

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

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

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

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

“Someday.” He kissed her again.

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

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

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

“How about right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “Let’s dance.”

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

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

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

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argylemikewheeler · 5 years ago

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the young and the clueless

|| prompt: Mike and Will are pining and Steve's like "oh I get it" and then he tries to inadvertently get them together || ao3

“Steve! Did you see Will’s new project? He’s so talented oh my god, Steve– how is he this good? I don’t understand. I’m genuinely curious– Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“Steve, hey, Steve… do you think Mike could… I don’t know… Like me? Maybe? I don’t know like, we were talking last week and–”

Steve hears something about either Mike or Will from Will or Mike every time he picks one of them up from school. He isn’t sure when he becomes the equivalent of a crush confession-riddled diary, but he honestly doesn’t mind listening. Eventually though, he realizes that both boys are so embarrassingly infatuated with the other– but doing nothing about it.

They both tell Steve they’re so excited for AV Club after school– it’s extra time to see him without having to be at my house, near my parents– and they both say, after the meeting, that they couldn’t muster up the courage to do anything other than Shop Talk. Which Steve wants to know what exactly AV “shop talk” is that isn’t just like… discussing the finer points of binary code. Which he thinks is kind of gay but like– he isn’t going to say anything. They’re young, not stupid.

Steve wants to scream nearly every time Mike shuffles into the video store with his hair ruffled and every breath coming out in a long groan, or when Will shuffles in wringing his hands and head hanging low.

“I couldn’t do it.” They always say. “I couldn’t tell him.”

Eventually, Steve has to do something. He can’t just keep standing there, week after week, seeing these boys think the other one will turn them down. Not when he knows, explicitly, in fact, that the other boy would JUMP at the chance to say anything on their mind. He starts talking to Robin, trying to get her to “accidentally” have Will helping her rewind VHS tapes in the back when Steve catches Mike on his weekly Horror Movie run. She doesn’t need convincing; she’s in the moment Steve mentions Byers. “I just really like the kid. He’s the sweetest of the bunch”, she says.

So then the plan begins. Will comes in first– having been dropped off after school by his mom as she went into work. Steve promised he’d drive Will home after his own shift– and after they hang out at the arcade for a bit. At least that’s what Will thinks. Steve pretends he’s busy organizing a shelf of new arrivals and lets Robin corral him into her work. She makes up a wonderfully elaborate story about this guy who just dropped off a stack of videos without rewinding a single one. Of course, Will won’t say no and puts his backpack under the counter before rushing to help her.

Mike arrives second, having biked over after school. He took longer than Steve was used to, moping in the front door with his hands in his pockets. He looks more dejected than usual– maybe he’d actually gotten some courage and…

No. No that definitely didn’t happen. Because 1. Steve would’ve heard about it.and 2. if he’d told Will how he felt, he would not be so damn sad. Mike was just… running out of patience with his own fear. Steve understands before Mike even looks at him.

“It’s alright, Wheeler.” Steve steps around the counter and holds an arm out for him, waving him into a sideways, half-committed (so half-embarrassing) hug. “What happened today?”

Mike sighs and lets his head rest on Steve’s shoulder. “I almost told him. I almost did… I came so close. He was talking about going to the arcade after school and I was almost like ‘Hey! Do you mind if I go with you? I’d love to hang out’ and then I thought that’s not clear enough. That’s how I talk to Lucas– how I talk to Max for fuck’s sake!”

“Watch it, Wheeler.”

“So then I was trying to figure out how to like, ask him out but to his own afternoon plans. Which is just fucking stupid!”

“Wheeler, watch the language, come on. I work here.” Steve says sternly. He keeps his arm around Mike’s shoulders though, squeezing his arm.

“I just couldn’t do it. So now I’m here with you like, two stores down from him but I can’t just go over there without it being weird and like I followed him.” Mike throws his hands up in exasperation, nearly knocking Steve over. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Steve. I think I’m going to die if I don’t tell him. I think I’m going to literally die if I can’t tell Will that I like him.”

“Okay, well, you aren’t going to do that.” Steve says, pushing his arms down. “You aren’t going to die. Promise.”

Mike sighs and seems suspicious, but he stays silent, giving Steve his attention.

“Why can’t you just join Will at the arcade? Bring some extra quarters and go cheer him on while he plays uh, Burger Time or whatever.” Steve says. Mike groans and covers his eyes with the palms of his hands. “What did I get the freaking name wrong again?”

“No. I can’t do that because…” Mike lets his hands drop. “I already bring him extra quarters. That won’t say anything different. That’s just us being friends.”

“Oh dear God.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Oh, they were worse off than he thought. The gesture of extra coins for Will’s current attempt at high score is supposed to be a moment. A brief double-take where Will is both happy and flattered and swept up in the excitement of playing that his vision just shifts into rose-colored joy. That was the Whole Plan.

But it’s useless if ALL of that is just… how Mike and Will are all the time.

“Okay so you might die.” Steve mutters, running his hands down his face. “Because I think I might kill you.”

“Hey! I’m in mourning right now!” Mike snaps, poking Steve’s chest. “I’m in love and I’m–”

“You’re what?” Steve grabs Mike’s hand, pushing his finger away. “Did you just say in love?”

“Yeah, I did.” Mike catches up to the weight of his own sentence then, too. “I did.”

“Well that changes things.” It didn’t change any bit of Mike, but it changes Steve’s plan. This kid was in over his head, just a little bit. To figure out you’re in love when you’re lost to it already was a tough situation– Steve knows that much. At least Will likes him back.

“Hey dingus, what’s all the yelling for out– Oh, hey Mike.” Robin stands in the archway of the backroom, leaning to the side. Will emerges beside her, stopping short as he sees Mike– and hears Robin draw attention to him.

Steve has never seen the two boys look at each other before. At least not from this angle. He can feel himself fade away in their world, any of his words becoming muffled horn noises to their foggy young brains. Mike shuts his jaw tightly, as if he can remove his previous words from ever being heard. Will’s lips are parted– as if he’s winded, or in shock rather. Steve doesn’t need to hear Will and Robin’s conversation to hear an echo of Mike’s words.

“What are you two idiots doing out here?” Robin steps toward the counter, her slow dragging posture bringing Will with her. Steve feels like there is a stand off forming.

“Talking about–”

“The arcade. We were talking about the arcade.” Steve says quickly. He brings his arm around Mike’s shoulders, slapping his chest with less subtlety than he hoped.

“You were?” Will says. “You’re coming with me, right Steve?”

“See, that’s just it. I don’t think I can– just got off the phone with the boss. Said I have to clean up the back room for a bit and–”

“I’ll go with you.” Mike says quickly. “I can go with you if you want some company–”

“I’d love some.” Will sounds way too eager, but neither of them seem to notice, and Robin and Steve aren’t about to mention it.

“I can… make Robin do the work if you don’t want to go Mike.” Steve is testing the waters, ignoring Robin’s glare.

“No, no I’ll go. The arcade sounds… really fun.” Mike’s caught in his own breath, his smile small but reaching all the way up to his hairline. “I’ve been meaning to go, but I really hate going by myself.”

“You should’ve said something today when I mentioned it.” Will laughs, walking around the counter. Steve tries not to look between the two of them like he’s waiting for an explosion, for something volatile to react. “You’re always invited. Anywhere I go.”

“Will, I–” Mike speaks quickly, shaking his head in his own quiet disbelief. Steve nearly jumps into the conversation, begging Mike not to pick now to be his moment– but he waits, eyeing Mike’s slow blinking. His decision (or lack thereof) crosses his face, easing the tension coiling in his brow. Mike was compelled to be honest, but Mike isn’t going to be irrational. Steve could respect the impulse-- and the control. “I’d really love to go– Do you think you could show me how to be so good at Dig Dug? I-I can’t have Max show us all up.”

Will starts walking, rolling his eyes. “You’re so distracted whenever I try to help.”

“Y-Yeah.” Mike mutters, turning away from Steve pointedly. “It’s always so... loud in there.”

Robin looks over from the counter at Steve, her eyebrows trying to reach her hairline. Steve is thinking the same thing, he’s sure. How far gone are these too?

“Have fun!” Steve says to them, rolling his eyes at Robin. She throws her head into her hands and tries to smother his laughter. “When you need a ride just let me--” The store door closes on the last end of Steve’s sentence. Both boys are walking past the windows, smiling and looking to be saying very little. “know... Did you see that?”

“Oh, I saw it. You didn’t see Will though. Wow, just wow. That kid is--”

“In love?” Steve says, propping one elbow up on a shelf. It was a pointless question. Of course he is. Literally anyone could see that-- except maybe them.

“Don’t tell me Mike said it too.” Robin sighs. “God, when do you think they’re going to get it together?”

"If they’re anything like us,” Steve pauses for every year of personal silence held between the two of them. He keeps himself from mourning, from feel like those kids were doomed to any one future. They’re young, not lost. “when they’re ready.”

#byeler #byler #will byers x mike wheeler #st writing #babysitter steve #also great babysitter robin #prompts

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mexicancat-girl · 5 years ago

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Quiet (with you)

Another MarcNath fic written for #MLPrideFest2020 and Pride month in general

AO3: Link, 3600 words

...

Even after making friends, Marc still likes to write under the stairs.

Maybe it was just an ingrained habit at this point.

Marc didn’t do well with crowds, or loud places. It was all too chaotic. Ironic, considering he loved loud music; but dealing with people in real life was different than listening to his favorite albums.

Either way, Marc started his habit of siting and writing under the stairs since the start of the school year, too anxious to deal with both the cafeteria and his crippling loneliness of not having any friends to sit with. He has friends to sit with now, but his anxiety was a fickle thing. Sometimes he just didn’t want to seem like a bother.

The stairs were a place he enjoyed, though. They were quiet. Out of the way. And no one looked under the stairs, so it provided a nice little hidey hole. He could be isolated, while not being wholly alone.

After all, if he stayed under the stairs in the courtyard, he could hear and see when lunch let out and he had to go back to class. He couldn’t do that if he wrote in, say, the Library. The Library was too quiet, too out of the way. Marc would forget altogether about needing to leave, entranced in his writing, making him accidentally skip classes like some sort of delinquent.

And he wasn’t a delinquent! He just got lost in his head when he wrote…

Marc fiddles with his pen. Someone takes that moment to step close to him on his left.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says in a yawn. Marc snaps up his attention to Nathaniel, who hovers over him for a few seconds, before unceremoniously dropping to the ground to sit next to him.

Or, well. It looks more like he collapsed to the ground.

“Are you okay?!” Marc yelps, nearly chucking his pen and notebook aside in his haste.

Nathaniel just blinks back at him blearily, posture horribly slouched. He has dark circles under his uncovered eye, as if stamped on the pale skin there. His vibrant red hair is mussed, like he’d just been sleeping.

“M’fine,” the redhead sighs out, giving another jaw-cracking yawn right after. “Just tired.”

Marc frowns over at the other boy in concern. “Nathaniel…”

“Mmm?” he hums listlessly in reply.

“Did…did you get any sleep at all, last night?” Marc hedges, staring at the exhausted-looking artist.

“…Maybe.”

“How many hours?” he presses carefully, concern welling up even stronger as he watches Nathaniel duck his head and slump down even further.

“…A few.”

“How many exactly?”

“Like…Four?” is the weak response.

“Nathaniel!” Marc gasps, scandalized and concerned.

Nathaniel just groans, burying his face in his hand. “M’fiiiine.”

“You’re sleep deprived! That’s not fine!” he retorts, setting aside his notebook and pen to turn in place and put his full attention to his friend-slash-crush.

“Well, I’m still alive. So I think—” a yawn disrupts Nathaniel’s drawl “—I’m good.”

“You have to sleep,” Marc decides, quite logically. “You’ll pass out any second if you don’t. And you’ll end up missing class.”

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t already,” the redhead laughs dryly.

“You what?!”

Nathaniel just shrugs, looking vaguely sheepish as he says, “I fell asleep in class again. No big deal.”

“Is this a common occurrence?” Marc asks, brows flying up in shock. “Does this happen all the time?”

“Well, not all the time…” Nathaniel hedges, pink dusting his cheeks and uncovered eye darting away. “Just…Every once in a while.”

Marc sighs, shaking his head. His crush doesn’t seem like he’s jumping to elaborate, and Marc knows how stubborn the boy could be.

One more thing the two have in common to add to the pile: they both had a shit time asking others for help.

“Why did you only get four hours of sleep anyways?” Marc can’t help but ask, curious.

“…I forgot to?” the redhead cringes.

“You forgot to sleep?!” Marc yelps, leaning forwards to gawk in horror. All he gets in reply is a sheepish, tired laugh. “Nathaniel! How can you just forget?”

“Marc, when you have ADHD, it’s easy to forget a lot of things,” Nathaniel deadpans, looking a bit more dead inside as he does so.

“That’s not an excuse, and you know it.” Marc chides, giving a pointed look. “You have a phone. Set an alarm to remind yourself to go to bed.”

“…I do that. It doesn’t work.”

“Set multiple alarms, then?”

“If I do that, I just get pissed that my phone keeps interrupting me. And then I keep drawing anyways.”

Marc sighs, tapping a finger against his cheek. “There has to be a solution…”

“Prob’ly,” Nathaniel shrugs, another jaw-cracking yawn spilling from his mouth. “Look, I just… really wanna take a nap right now.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you up when we need to go back to class,” Marc tells him automatically, freezing slightly when he realizes what he’d just offered.

Oh God, was that weird? Who the hell would want to take a nap under the stairs? Not only is it creepy, it’s all solid concrete down here, hardly a comfortable place to sleep for any amount of time—

Nathaniel, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the offer. In fact, he smiles back at Marc, bright and genuine even through his apparent exhaustion.

“Really?” the redhead asks, as Marc awkwardly sputters and nods. “Thanks, Marc, you’re the best…!”

With a concerning amount of cheeriness and enthusiasm, Nathaniel flops right onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes, apparently settling in for a nap then and there.

“Y-Y-You’re welcome…?” Marc tells him weakly.

The redhead hums, but doesn’t do anything else in reply. He just shifts to his side, facing Marc, and…completely zones out.

Marc watches in fascination as the other boy instantly falls asleep. Just like that.

For someone that apparently had trouble going to bed, Nathaniel didn’t waste time actually falling asleep, it seems.

Marc slowly and carefully picks his notebook and pen back up, making sure he’s quiet and doesn’t startle the other boy awake.

And then he writes.

-----

Every once in a while, Marc looks up to check up on Nathaniel.

The redhead keeps on sleeping, dead to the world.

It’s probably creepy to do, but after more and more time passes, Marc’s gaze is drawn to watching Nathaniel’s sleeping form. Like a magnet. And eventually, he just sort of. Watches him sleep.

After all, there’s not exactly many opportunities for him to stare unabashedly at his crush without possibly getting caught by said crush. There’s also the factor in play that sleeping is a private and intimate thing, and Nathaniel had no problems just…hunkering down and taking a nap by Marc’s side.

Either Nathaniel really trusts him and isn’t bothered by the possibility of Marc judging him, or he’s so exhausted he genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion.

Both options make Marc’s stupid gay heart flutter, just a bit, in his chest.

Nathaniel looks so… peaceful while he sleeps. His face is slack, lips parted slightly as he breathes slowly and deeply. The exhaustion and stress melts from his features. His lashes are delicate as they fan out across his cheekbones, kissing the small smattering of freckles there. His bangs are mussed and out of his face completely for once, hair feathered out, fire spilling against the concrete.

The other boy doesn’t snore, either. But he does drool, just a bit.

The sight makes Marc smile. It’s probably achingly lovestruck and fond. He doesn’t fight it.

Marc shifts—slowly, carefully—until he’s sitting level with the sleeping redhead. He pauses, heart in his throat, when Nathaniel mumbles and shifts a bit. And then tenses when the boy butts his head against Marc’s thigh.

Marc watches with bated breath as Nathaniel snuggles against his leg like a cat, apparently drawn to Marc’s body heat. He even curls up a bit and throws his leg over Marc’s extended one, knee hiked up, the weight trapping Marc’s right leg in place.

Marc’s face feels like it’s on fire. He tries very, very hard not to squeal. And also tries to ignore the fact that if Nathaniel migrates further, he’ll end up in Marc’s lap.

Though Marc honestly can’t complain about that, even if the prospect makes him want to go into cardiac arrest from mingled embarrassment and joy.

Fumblingly, Marc brings up his unoccupied leg, balancing his notebook precariously onto his raised knee. He doesn’t even know what he writes—if its cohesive at all, or just the ramblings of a madman desperately in love—but he has to at least occupy himself. If he doesn’t, he’ll die on the spot, or his mind will overthink everything.

If he doodles a few too many hearts on the page than is considered normal, well. No one’s around to see him.

-----

“Damn it, Nath…! Where are you?!” Alix seethes under her breath, stomping across the cafeteria.

She was a woman on a mission.

Somehow, in the five seconds Alix took her eyes off Nathiel in Miss Bustier’s class, he managed to slip past her. He was a slippery one, and too quiet for his own good.

Alix was pissed. Mostly concerned for Nath’s health and continued wellbeing, but pissed all the same.

That dumb tomato-boy was probably off somewhere, passed out in a corner of the school like a homeless person. Vulnerable and ready for any old bully to waltz by him. All because he was avoiding Alix, since she tended to strongarm him to stay awake and eat a proper lunch and wallow in his mistakes of staying up til nearly four in the fucking morning. Again.

Either way, Alix was going to find his stupid ass, and drag him to eat lunch so he could have enough energy to not pass right the fuck out and end up in the nurse’s office.

She’s checked his favorite hidey-holes in the Art Club Room and the Library. With those options eliminated, she has no reason to really stay on the top floors. So she ends up stomping all the way back down to the main floor.

And then realizes that she may have forgotten one last spot.

Quietly, she moves away from the stairs. And when she’s got enough distance, carefully hiding behind a column, she crouches and looks under the stairs.

Marc is there, as she expected. His bright-red hoodie and messy hair are fairly recognizable.

Passed out next to Marc is a very familiar form that Alix instantly recognizes as her dumbass best friend, one Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

Alix would normally stomp on over and wake Nath up. But the actual sight before her makes her pause, and consider.

Marc is sitting down, one knee propped up and seemingly trying to write in his notebook, and looking to be struggling at it. Probably because Nathaniel is half-using him as a pillow, his head all but in Marc’s lap, a leg thrown over Marc’s extended one.

Marc’s sort of trapped under Nathaniel. Though he looks so enraptured and awed at the fact that he’s being used as a pillow, he probably wouldn’t move from his spot in a thousand years.

It’s…an incredibly cute sight.

And it’s also a bit surprising, too.

Not the fact that Marc’s looking down at Nathaniel with a look so gooey and lovestruck, he pretty much has hearts for eyes. Alix’s picked up near-instantly that Marc has a bit of a hopeless crush on her best friend.

No, the more surprising part is Nathaniel taking a nap on Marc.

Nathaniel never feels bothered about taking naps at school, just plonking his head on his desk and diving straight into dreamland. But sleeping around other people is a bit different.

Nath likes to cuddle when he sleeps. But he only does it to people he really, truly trusts. He won’t just sleep on any person.

So far, the phenomena only extends to family. Which includes Alix and Jalil, because Nath all but considers them his siblings. But he doesn’t sleep on any of his other friends.

The fact that he’s sleeping on Marc shows that he trusts him. A lot, at that.

It shows that he even considers Marc family.

“Interesting…” Alix mutters quietly under her breath, her mouth breaking into a shit-eating grin.

Feeling devious, she carefully fishes her phone from her pocket, and clicks it on. A few swipes later, and she’s zooming in on her camera to take a dozen photos of Marc and Nathaniel in their current position.

She’s so going to tease the shit out of Nath later over this.

Hell, she might as well start a new album for them, at the rate that this is going. She hadn’t even realized Nath was crushing back on Marc.

Hell, Nath might not even know he has a crush on Marc.

This is ironically hilarious.

And hey! They’ll all make great photos for the wedding, she’s sure. She should know; she’s going to be Nath’s best man. They pretty much made a blood pact on it when they were younger. She’d be his best man, and he’d be hers, if they ever got married.

With a smirk and a cheery hum under her breath, Alix carefully and quietly backs away, so she won’t be seen and ruin their cute little moment.

She could let it slide. She’ll let Nath sleep, this time.

-----

It feels both like an eternity, and no time at all, before the sounds of students migrating out of the lunchroom get louder and louder.

With a pang of regret and longing, Marc realizes he has to wake Nathaniel back up.

Well. It’d been good while it lasted.

At the very least, Marc can make some corrections about his daydreams of a blissful domestic life with his crush. Including the newly revealed fact that Nathaniel’s a cuddler.

“Nathaniel…Wake up,” Marc says, ducking down and gently shaking his shoulder. “We have to get back to class.”

“Five more minutes,” the redhead half-groans half-whines, raising his head slightly just to plop it straight on Marc’s thigh, burying his face there.

Marc all but jumps out of his skin. He’s so startled, he yanks his leg away, watching in horrified mortification as Nathaniel smacks his face slightly on the concrete.

“I’m up, I’m up!” the redhead yelps, jolting up, blue eyes wide and staring around himself wildly as he shifts himself into a sitting position.

“I-I-I’m so sorry,” Marc gasps, instantly hovering over his friend. “OhmyGodNath—”

“S’fine! S’fine,” Nathaniel says, shaking his head wildly, before bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his face. “My fault for smacking myself anyways.”

“A-Are y-you okay?” Marc worries, hands fluttering to and fro.

“I think so…?” the redhead blinks, cheeks dusted pink. “Ummm…Sorry, c-can you see if I have a bruise, or—”

“Y-Yes, of course.” Marc quickly leans his face in, scrutinizing the other for injuries. Other than the growing blush (no doubt of embarrassment) on Nathaniel’s face, there’s no major change in color that’s a warning sign for an injury. “N-No, you’re fine. Your nose looks a little red, but that’s it.”

“Thanks, man,” Nathaniel sighs, leaning back and rubbing at his nose, eyes averted. “I mean, I’ve had worse on my face after waking up, but still. It’s nice to have someone to check.”

“I’ve fallen asleep on my notebooks before…” Marc offers, wincing sympathetically. This earns him a small smile in return, which is worth the slight embarrassment of his admission.

“Oh, same. I’ve conked out right on my notebooks and sketchbooks before. Woken up with writing from my notes or smeared marker on my face,” the other says, laughing awkwardly, obviously self-conscious even if he jokes about it.

“I-If you need to, you probably have enough time to double-check in the bathroom…But I think your face looks great,” Marc starts, before his too-authentic words catch up to him. “Um! I-I mean, fine. Your face. Is fine. You’re fine.” Marc nearly closes his eyes and drops into a prayer for God to smite him where he sits. “S’fine.”

“Uhhh…Right,” Nathaniel coughs, smiling, blue eye glimmering with mirth. “Anyways. Sorry for making things, like…awkward? But I appreciate you letting me nap with you. Really. I felt like dying.”

“N-No problem! It’s no problem at all!” Marc is quick to wave his hands in front of himself to wave away the other’s concern. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah, Alix doesn’t let me get away with sleeping during lunch anymore,” Nathaniel sighs, smile turning crooked and abashed. “She says I’m scrawny enough that I can’t afford to be skipping meals.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny,” Marc answers automatically and loyally. Apparently, his brain-to-mouth filter has gone and died on him in the past hour. He would blame Nathaniel for being so cute, but honestly, this is more of a him problem than anything. He’s too big of a gay disaster for his own good.

Nathaniel just smiles and laughs. Not in a mocking way, but in a way like he’s thought Marc made a funny joke.

“Alix would say otherwise, but thanks,” he says warmly, tugging his bangs behind his ear. Marc is hit with both of Nathaniel’s blue eyes crinkled in fondness. It all but punches the breath straight out of him. “Did I bother you at all, by the way?”

“N-Not at all!” Marc is quick to assure, even as he averts his gaze in a way that’s no doubt guilty. “I-I still got a b-bit of writing done…”

“Good. I didn’t want to mess up your flow or anything…Y’know, since this is your spot to write and all,” the redhead says, self-deprecating, averting his gaze. “And…Thanks again for letting me chill here. It’s actually really peaceful.”

“W-well, this isn’t my spot, per se…I-It’s not like I own it?” Marc starts, a bit mystified, but backpedals a bit so he doesn’t seem rude. “B-But you’re welcome! You can come by anytime. It’s not like I’d ever turn you away.”

Wait. Why did he say that?

Marc freezes, trying not to panic. Did he just admit he’d never turn Nathaniel away? What if that blows his cover? What if Nathaniel realizes he means it genuinely, but like, in a very non-platonic and incredibly gay way?

“Ooh, permission to sit here in your secret spot…? I’m honored,” Nathaniel grins back at him toothily, before finally moving to stand. “I’ll come by more often if you come sit with me at lunch more. Deal?”

Nathaniel holds his hand out to Marc, smiling expectantly back at him. Face warm and heart aflutter, Marc reaches out. Nathaniel clasps his hand and heaves him up off the ground, nearly over-balancing in the process.

“Woah! You’re heavier than you look,” the redhead laughs, obviously teasing as he makes a show of wiping his forehead.

Marc huffs, bending down to snag his pen and notebook. “Or maybe I have a solid three inches on you, so I have more body mass.”

“Well gee, thanks for reminding me that I’m short,” Nathaniel drawls back.

The two eye each other with mock annoyance, before they burst into laughter.

Marc feels a potent mix of fondness and joy settle in his chest, nestled with the swarm of butterflies there.

It’s always…freeing…to laugh with Nathaniel. It reminds Marc that they really are friends. That Nathaniel doesn’t just tolerate him. That he maybe even enjoys Marc’s company.

“Get back to class, sleepyhead,” Marc teases, using his unoccupied hand to wave as he starts to step back.

“You get back to class!” Nathaniel retorts, grinning wide, raising a hand in goodbye.

Marc’s already a few meters away, when a thought strikes and a surge of confidence fills him. He has one more thing to say.

He turns around and walks backwards to look at Nathaniel, who’s still standing in the same place as before, yawning and rubbing at his eye. Marc makes an exaggerated and over-the-top pantomime of smoothing his hair down, as he calls, “You should probably fix your hair, while you’re at it!”

Nathaniel startles, staring back at him. Marc can’t help but smirk back, amusement growing as the other boy blushes and instantly starts to comb his fingers through his hair, flattening it back in place and re-arranging it so he doesn’t look like he’d just tripped out of bed.

Even with his efforts, his red hair looks tousled, full of flyaway strands that just won’t sit still.

And coupled with his blushing face, well. Nathaniel looks like he’s done more than just take a cat nap.

Marc turns right around and speed-walks away before Nathaniel can say anything else, or his own mind can fall deeper into the gutter.

-----

As Marc makes his way to class, he clutches his notebook to his chest and bites his lip, but the smile spreads wide and crooked in his mouth anyways.

He just…He just made Nathaniel blush.

He giggles a bit under his breath, pressing his knuckles against his lips, no doubt smearing his lip gloss. But he can’t even bring himself to care. He’s too giddy. The butterflies buzz and flutter in his chest, alongside his heart.

He can’t wait for Nathaniel to join him under the stairs again.

Marc may like the quiet and solitude, but…He thinks he likes being quiet with Nathaniel even more.

#MLPrideFest2020 #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #Marc Anciel #Alix Kubdel #MarcNath #NathMarc #Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #pride month #mexicat writes

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misssunflowersandsangria · 5 years ago

Text

The Arrangement

Chapter 6: The Performance

Welcome back, my wonderful readers! We’re racing towards the end of this story! Thank you for stopping by! I'll be happy if this helps take your mind off of the world for a little bit. Enjoy the chapter :D

Summary: They've danced around their feelings for long enough now.

“Step 2, ugh this is the worst one yet.” Shikamaru waited with bated breath worried.

“It’s a dinner followed by a dance.”

He just stared for a moment waiting for more information.“Oh, that’s it?”

“Yup. This is where we need your mom and some Naras. The dinner is supposed to consist of food half from Suna and half traditional Konoha dishes.” He nodded knowing that his mom would love to have a whole kitchen staff to boss around.

He just shrugged. “Doesn’t seem too bad.”

“I have to perform a dance.”

Never in his life did he expect the cruelest kunoichi of their generation to make such a statement. Thus he couldn’t help the bubble of laughter.

“Shut up! It’s not that funny!”

“Yes, actually it is.” He couldn’t imagine his murderous warrior prancing around on a stage.

Temari just rolled her eyes annoyed, but her lips quirked into a smile at his laugh. He didn’t laugh often and she wished that he could do so much more.

“Anyways, it’s a traditional dance girls are taught from a young age. It’s a way for Suna to share part of its culture with my suitor and his family.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

“No, you just get to sit there and watch it like it’s the most incredible thing that you’ve ever seen.”

“I'm sure it will be.” He teased her and he should have expected her tackling him to the floor.

Despite her best efforts, he continued to laugh amused while she half-heartedly pounded at his chest. That is until she fell into a fit of laughter herself. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy, tired or overwhelmed but it felt good. If Shikamaru never laughed she sure as hell didn’t but like so many other things he brought that joy out of her.

Once the laughing spell had passed they laid there on the floor in warm familiarity her head tucked into his neck.

“You think I can do this?” She asked, feeling a little insecure. War, battles, missions were easy, but there was a kind of vulnerability inherent in all these rituals. This wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted.

He kissed her forehead affectionately, his arm tightening around her. “I know you can.”

Shikamaru’s arm was wrapped casually around Temari while they laughed and joked along with their friends and clansmen. It felt similar to some of the time that she’d spend in Konoha, carefree nights that would turn into mornings.

All-day long Shikamaru had been affectionate, holding hands, kisses lingering on her head. At first, she assumed that it was just to perpetuate the lie, but it seemed all the more sincere and he was seeking out those moments. Whatever his reasoning she fell into it the comfort and warmth the safety of his arms gave her. Even now she leaned into his chest as they enjoyed the company of friends and family.

The dinner was more enjoyable than she expected. She loved the food from Suna and enjoyed it being paired with the food from Konoha. She’d spent many family dinners with the Naras and when she was home she’d often crave Yoshino’s home-cooked meals. She could tell that her brothers and everyone else that had been invited were enjoying it as well. Yoshino had worked the kitchen to the bone wanting to make sure it was all perfect and their hard work paid off. The food was delicious and there were few things that she enjoyed more than feeding the people she cared about.

Temari didn’t take for granted that they were able to eat a meal together like this. People from different villages, clans, and places breaking bread together. Years ago this would not have been possible. Years ago Shikamaru had been her enemy. How times had changed.

Shikamaru’s hand was curved tightly around Temari’s waist. His fingers lightly brushed over patches of exposed skin and he could feel goosebumps where their skin touched. He knew that he needed to talk to her about the feelings that he’d finally begun to accept, but his heart had been broken in so many ways. If she was to reject his feelings this was one heartbreak he wouldn’t survive.

“Do you have to get ready soon?” He whispered over to her his fingers easily threading through her hair. Temari nodded solemnly knowing that her performance would be up soon.

Shikamaru tapped the pendant of her necklace with a soft grin. A wordless and sweet reminder.

“I’m excited to see it.”

“Why? Do you want to see me embarrass myself?”

He sighed, she was still so stubborn. “Of course not. I know it’s out of your comfort zone but I’m proud of you and I know it will go well. Tem, it means a lot to me that you’d do this. I’ve enjoyed being here and learning about Suna and your traditions.” He was so damn sincere and it was making her hesitancy wane.

Her hand went to cup his cheek warmth and affection in her eyes. “Okay, this is for you.”

Temari paced back and forth behind the curtain trying to calm herself down.

“Stop it! You’re making me nervous!” Ino scolded her pausing her movements.

“Sorry, I just can't believe that I’m being forced to do this.”

Ino just stared at her confused. “For as long as I’ve known you no one has ever been able to make you do anything you didn’t want to. It’s okay to enjoy it. I know that the rituals might seem a little outdated but you’re an actual princess living out a fairy tale.”

“You don’t think that it’s stupid?”

“No, I don’t think so, it’s kind of nice actually.”

“Why?”

“You’re welcoming Shikamaru into your village and culture. There’s something sweet and timeless about it. When Sai and I get married and he becomes a Yamanaka there are certain steps to it. It’s not as elaborate but I’m excited about it. When my mom married my dad she had to go through it so in a lot of ways going through these rituals honors his memory and everyone else that has come before us.” Temari had never thought about it that way.

“As Kunoichi, we have a lot of different expectations placed on us. We’re expected to be strong warriors, but also to carry on bloodlines by bringing new life to the village and caring for our families. There’s so much to live up to but in some ways, I think that we’re lucky because we found partners that would never force us to be just one thing. I know in some ways it might feel like you’re losing your freedom but maybe in this case you’re actually gaining something. Shikamaru can be a lot of things but he’s always been your biggest supporter. He’d never force you to do anything or be anything you didn’t want.”

Temari couldn’t help but smile. She was right. She was lucky to find someone that supported her goals in life, that never tried to change her. “Thank you Ino, and thank you for doing this for me.” While she remained in Konoha she had enlisted Ino to help her. She needed a few women to dance along with her and the blonde jumped at the opportunity. Temari thought that it would be a nice way to integrate his life into their traditions.

Ino just waved off her appreciation, throwing an arm around her. “Shikamaru is my brother so that makes you my sister. We’re family now. We’ve gotta stick together.”

A sister, it was a concept that she’d never considered but she couldn't help but like the idea. Over the years she’d grown to appreciate and respect the blonde. She was a strong, fearless and capable kunoichi that cared greatly for the people in her life. Temari was thankful that she was counted amongst them. This would only make it all the more difficult when they revealed the truth about their “relationship.” Everyone in his life had welcomed her with open arms and she was terrified of disappointing them all.

Ino began preparing the other girls while Temari peered from behind the curtain to where Shikamaru was sitting with her brothers, his mom and Choji. That was her family out there. The stability, sense of home and belonging she’d always wanted was there with them. She was fearless, a storm and she was tired of being some kind of pawn. The council may have forced her hand, but she had still chosen Shikamaru and she knew that in all situations, times and places she’d always choose him. In a twisted way, she was thankful for what they had done and caused her to realize.

Why couldn’t they be together? What was the harm in making this relationship real? Was it so far-fetched for them to be a couple when everyone around them seemed to believe that they belonged together? She was tired of hiding behind duty, and tradition. For blaming everyone else for what was happening. She needed to be honest with him because she finally felt like she was being honest with herself. He was only going to be in Suna for a few more days. She was working with borrowed time.

For now, she tried to put those thoughts aside playing in her head the dance steps when Gaara and Kankuro appeared. Garra was set to introduce her but they both looked like there was something more to be said.

“Come on Temari, let's have a moment before you go out there.” They walked out of the large room into a private study.

They both stared at her for a moment. She’d been dressed in traditional Suna fashion, bright embroidered fabric, make-up done and adorned in priceless jewels. Even now her costume was elaborately made with brilliant colored cloths. She very much looked like a princess.

“Temari, are you sure about this. You can still back out. We will deal with the Council. We know that you don’t like this kind of attention.” They wanted one last chance to intervene before she made a spectacle of herself unnecessarily.

Temari knew that her brothers were still worried about her but as she reflected on the last few days and really the last few years she knew what she wanted. Why she just “let” this happen the way that it did.

She just shook her head. “No, I’m okay. To be honest, I want this. I want Shikamaru as my suitor, to really have him become part of our family one day. It’s real to me now, all of it, as silly as it might be. If these rituals are what it takes then I’m all for it. ” They both just smiled at her neither one surprised by the revelation. It was nice to see her look determined and ready to take her life back in her hands.

“Does he know this?”

“No, I wanted to get through this first. I won’t ask for permission but I’d like your support?” It had just been the three of them for so long now she was bringing someone else into the fold.

Garra placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are our sister. We will always support you. If Shikamaru is who you want then he's good enough for us.”

“Hey if he’s crazy enough to take you on for the rest of his life and become a part of this family he’s pretty damn brave.” Kankuro teased her trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. Temari was his big sister and best friend, he was happy that she’d found someone worthy of her that would love and take care of her the way that she deserved.

She just hugged them both thankful that despite it all, through life, tragedy, and war she still had her baby brothers.

The room fell silent as Gaara stood at the center to address the guests.

“Shikamaru, it has been a great honor for us to have you and your family here in Suna. Now more than ever it’s important to show not only our familiar bonds but to strengthen the ones that we share with those miles away from us. You have shown us that love can cross the driest deserts to the deepest forests. My people, the time for mourning and sadness has passed. We must look towards the desert sunrise to a new day. One filled with joy and laughter, of singing and dancing. And so it is an honor for me to present to you the crowned jewel of Suna, our Princess Temari.”

The crowd watched enthralled as the women appeared on stage in gorgeous and elaborate costumes with fans in their hands. Shikamaru’s eyes were glued on Temari’s form as she moved gracefully with the music. She was incredible and he couldn’t understand her hesitance. She was a natural as her body moved fluidly through each step her hands waving the fans in elaborate gestures. He watched in a daze as each long and lean limb moved with intention through the air, his eyes following each line and curve. Her face was set in that familiar look of pure determination. She was there to prove herself capable and better than anyone could have ever expected. He didn’t doubt that the room was stunned by the level of precision and grace present.

“She’s beautiful.” He vaguely heard his mom remarked. Her eyes opened in wonder and pride.

Temari while she complained and resisted this whole process had demonstrated the dignity and strength of her bloodline. She was truly Suna’s princess and he hoped she'd be his queen.

Once the performance concluded the crowd erupted in loud cheers. Shikamaru made his way towards Temari, pulling her into his arms. Overwhelmed by love and emotion he couldn’t help but place a sweet, warm kiss against her lips. He was not the least bit ashamed of being affectionate towards her in front of all these people.

“You were amazing Tem.” She just blushed embarrassed by the attention and impromptu kiss.

Once the cheers had died down they faced their guests hand in hand. As part of this event, he was supposed to make a statement to Suna. Initially, he’d been nervous never being one for public speeches, preferring his work to be behind the scenes. After what he’d seen Temari do he no longer had that hesitation.

“Thank you, Lord Gaara, the wonderful citizens of Suna and my Princess Temari for welcoming us to your village and home. Sunagakure is a strong, proud and wonderful country that we have been fortunate to learn more about. I am humbled by the kindness and friendship that we have been shown.” Shikamaru looked down at the girl holding onto him so tightly. “Temari, my love. Thank you for choosing me. I will spend the rest of our days together proving that I’m worthy of you.”

Everyone was completely floored by the sincere love present between them. Their relationship represented a new chapter in Suna’s story, one that proved that the world had changed.

The rest of the evening's festivities consisted of more food, drinks, and celebration. The Konohagakure delegation would be leaving soon so it was an opportunity to enjoy each other’s company for a little while more.

Shikamaru remained by Temari’s side for the rest of the night, not wanting to be more than a few feet away at any given moment. Ever so often she’d reach up to place a chaste kiss against his lips and it made them both breathless with anticipation for when they could finally be alone.

They were finally going to have this conversation that was years in the making.

The Arrangement:

Chapter 1: The Set-Up

Chapter 2: The Proposition

Chapter 3: The Participants

Chapter 4: The Declaration

Chapter 5: The Fear

Chapter 6: The Performance

Important Notes:

Temari’s dance was inspired by traditional Japanese dances. They are really pretty so look them up!

There are maybe 3 more chapters to this story then it will be all done.

Ino and Temari would totally get along and be good friends!

The world is a crazy place right now. Please be good to yourself and others. Do what you need to keep yourself happy, healthy and safe. Good hygiene and good self-care right now! I don’t know when, or how but it will all be okay, I’m here and I love you!

#shikatema #shikatem #shikamaru x temari #princesstemari #fake dating #sand siblings #naraclan #fanfic

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giurochedadomani · 5 years ago

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Three days on a drunken sin

Anthony Crowley went to a party. He doesn’t remember much of it, but waking up in a hospital bed to Ezra’s pitiful eyes is etched on his mind. After a long summer of avoidance, he saves the day and Ezra’s new job at the old Tadfield library.

TAGS: Pre-Slash, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Human!AU: University, TW: drug use, TW: overdose, TW: suicide attempt, TW: characters having an homophobic family

The blue from the police lights reflects over the Central Tadfield Library sign, old and a tad cracked, making it look as if it were about to fall down on the rests of the storefront. A couple of agents dock down on their way out, as do the handcuffed wannabe robbers they’re pushing.

Crowley kneels, picks up the book, sees again the title —bloody Hamlet— and snorts. He offers it to Ezra.

Their hands touch when the other grabs it. Crowley’s just a tad too glad that he doesn’t drop it.

“That was awfully nice of you”.

Crowley feels a bit hot around the collar and suspects it might not have everything to do with the pulsing pain of the bruise on his left cheek. He deflects by glaring for good measure at the big, burly detective taking Mrs. Tracy’s statement, but he seems so enthralled as to pay them any attention.

“Very. Very cool”.

“Oh, shut it”, he murmures back.

He gives Ezra a side glance. It’s aiming for a glare and falls miserably short. His stomach does a weird thing when he sees the other’s soft smile as he flips the pages of the book. He feels a little bit dumb and a whole lot ridiculous at how, ugh, mushy ‘very. Very cool’ makes him. He misses his glasses, broken in the scuffle Ezra and him had gone into with the robbers.

Continue reading in AO3 or here.

He wills his left knee to stop moving. He ends up getting up from the sofa just to stop the nervous taps on the floor. Ezra asks: “How did you know that I was working here?”

Anathema had told him. She had done so subtly at first and with increasingly elaborate threats then to coax him to make amends with Ezra through the whole summer.

(Crowley can’t remember anything but the blinding lights of the ambulance, a cacophony of shouts from his parents and Ezra’s pitiful eyes before waking up on the hospital bed.

“Well, you really shouldn’t be here. I mean, given how many other people you have to fraternize with—”)

“I didn’t. I happened to be in the neighbourhood”. It has happened a couple of times before. That is, Crowley going so far as to reach the neighbouring park before bolting on the whole idea. Showing up just as the gang decided to strike the library hasn’t been about pure chance, though.

“My spidey senses just tingled”.

“Ah”. Ezra’s soft smile fades down a bit. Crowley feels an inexplicable pang of guilt. “Well. I’m glad about your spider senses. I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t show up, my dear. I suppose that I got myself into a very tight spot”.

Mrs. Tracy laughs. She then shoves a hand over her mouth, appalled. She looks apologetically at the detective, who very chivariously tells her that there’s nothing to apologize for.

Crowley fixates on how much that makes him gag so he won’t pay attention at how his mind won’t stop echoing ‘my dear’.

“It’s spidey, not spider. You know it’s spidey”, he chides him. It doesn’t have any real bite to it, though. He glances again at Ezra and spots that little self satisfied smile that he sports after being annoying on purpose. His heart clenches suddenly at the immensity of the feeling of how much he has missed it.

“Does pretending to be from two centuries ago still help you around here?”, he asks, as nonchalant as he can manage. He rests his back on the counter.

“I’ll have you know that Mrs. Tracy appreciates my tastes, as démodé as you may find them”. Ezra replies, petulantly. He purses his lips and adds: “And modernizing doesn’t necessary have to equal obscure comic book knowledge, you know?”

Crowley scoffs. Thinks I’ll give you obscure.

Ezra ignores him: “I’ve been keeping myself up to date as of late, if you must know. I—”, he hesitates. Crowley takes on his set shoulders, that proud grin. He thinks about how utterly adorable he looks as he doubles down on his resolve and—

A phone rings. An 8 bit version of something classical. That’s— Beethoven?

Crowley fishes the thing out of the floor, vibrating half hidden among books. It looks like an old Blackberry or something equally egregious. He flips it in his hand, spots the cracked screen and… he sees the screen saver, a bad selfie of Ezra kissing some guy’s cheek.

(“Someone like me? How exactly is someone like me? No, describe it. Do you honestly think that I deserve to get treated—”.

“I worry about you”.

“And now you sound like them. I only asked— At the very least have the guts to tell me that you think that this is a punishment—”.

“You’re putting words in my mouth that I haven’t said”.

“That’s the problem! You never say anything. So long for that being on your side shit when you won’t stand up when I need someone to do it”)

Crowley doesn’t even move when Ezra, beet red, grabs the phone out of his hand and answers.

“Hi, I— Yes. Yes. Both of us. I was about to call you to tell you about it, in fact”, he nods to nothing. “Well, Police has been interrogating us up until now. How have you heard about it, anyway? In the—?”, a whisper of something and then: “The what!? Yes, yes, I swear to— Look, given the circumstances it’s something that I’m able to promise, yes”.

Crowley just— stays there. With the image of the screen saver seared into his mind. The guy’s tall, dark haired, good looking, all draped in finery. Ezra’s honest to Someone giggling. Crowley feels as if someone has just dropped a bucket of cold water over his shoulders. As if someone has just punched all air out of his lungs.

“I— yes, the moment I get home”, continues Ezra. He lowers his voice: “Yes, me too”.

He ends the call.

One of the agents asks something to Mrs. Tracy and then helps her to close the storefront, hiding the broken glass under the metal sheet. After the creaks stop, Ezra tries a joke, pinpointing the phone: “I figured at some point of another I would have to let go of telegrams”.

The guy is probably refined and shit. He can picture him, a veritable dandy, dressed like a sir and philosophizing about morality while analyzing literary classics. Most likely, his vices limit themselves to cigarettes and the occasional brandy glass at parties. Surely, his police records are stainless.

He’s truly glad for Ezra.

Brimming with joy.

He pinpoints the old mobile: “You’ve nailed down the century, angel. Now all that is left to nail down is the decade”. He puts so much effort into not sounding as hollow as he feels, that he expends a few seconds without realizing exactly what has he called the other and only does so when Ezra looks away.

Crowley’s stomach sinks to the floor and then lower, a truly stupid, over sensitive move on his part—

“He’s a— well, a friend”.

(“You haven’t been able to admit that we’re friends. Not once”

Ezra looks away. He ducks his head. His voice wavers when he says—)

Crowley buries the memory quickly and mercilessly. He was a manipulative asshole that day. Ezra’s not the one to blame for Crowley’s devotion, nor his very private daydreams —so obviously out of touch with reality, given what he is, what tears them apart— about what a friendship might develop into.

“You don’t owe me any explanation”.

He tries to swallow the bile down his throat.

“Crowley, I—”.

The point is— he didn’t even know that Ezra might, in this world and life, be interested. That there was any potential to explore. That Ezra, well, is interested in guys. A part of him cannot stop ruminating about how it’s his fault. That he’s somehow lacking— he’s always lacking. That he was, well, truly pathetic to even secretly entertain the possibility.

He stands up and recollocates his jeans, trying not to wince when his bruised hands grab the rough fabric. “I’m going home”.

Ezra’s face falls. He looks away, frowning a little, pouting, his lower lip trembling slightly. Crowley’s convinced that if Ezra were looking up, his eyes would beautifully shine with unshed tears. He feels as if he has just committed genocide, or kicked an overgrown, blonde puppy with eyes as blue as the sky. He gives in, refrains the urge to sigh and asks: “Do you want a lift?”

Ezra does a double take. Then, he smiles. And it’s like grabbing a soft blanket and getting near the fireplace on a rainy day and corny shit like that.

Crowley feels a frustration almost as deep as the warmth in his chest.

Soon they find themselves in Crowley’s car, with him following Ezra’s directions across town and being just a tad too glad that he doesn’t have to explain why does he know where they are going.

Wait, no. Come back! He just means— Anathema’s new flame lives next door, okay? He’s not a creep.

“So you basically stole a bunch of books”.

“I didn’t steal anything. I acquired them. With hard work”.

“You’ve just told me that you went into a— well, a sort of manhunt of prophecy books, coercing their previous owners into giving them to you almost for free”.

“Coerce, now that’s a strong word. Suggest, if anything. Let it slide— Could you please go slower, my dear!”.

“Manipulated, more likely. Deceived”.

Ezra shots him a glare, baffled.

“It’s hardly my fault if they didn’t do the proper research before our negotiations!”

“I don’t know if that would stand in a courtroom”.

“Well, if you’re just going to ponder the legal ramifications of my job I might just ask you to drop me here and go the rest of the way back on foot”.

“Now, there’s no need for rush decisions”.

“Well, you’re the one rushing!”

Crowley smirks, takes a turn left a little to quickly to make it perfectly legal and tries hard not to laugh at how Ezra squirms. “I’m just— admiring the skill where it’s due”, he says, after a moment of silence. “It must have been very difficult to get the opportunity to negotiate with those antique dealers. To prepare a convincing speech that fit every occasion”.

“If that’s sarcasm, I swear, my dear—”

“Oh, gosh, no. I’ve seen you in action. I don’t doubt for a moment that you can be pretty persuasive”.

(“So, what am I supposed to tell them? ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry, but I won’t make it, you guys, I’ve plans of spending all night long curing the boredom of this blondie, you see’. Wait a minute, I’m so definitely texting them that”.

“Crowley! You’re making me look like a wanton thing”.

“Are you blond? Check. Did you convince me that spending the night here was way more interesting than putting up with Bee and their friends? Also check. Did you do so because you’re bored as hell? Ladies and gentlemen, we have a triple check! I fail to see how am I misrepresenting the truth here”.

“You know that they won’t think that! If you send them that they will assume that— They will think that we—”

Crowley has the smartphone in a hand, a glass of wine in the other. That, next to Ezra’s white jumper, will prove itself to be an accident in the making in mere seconds. An accident that Ezra will have only to vaguely battle his eyelashes to to get Crowley try his hardest to solve.

“Now, what will they exactly think?”

“Give me the mobile, Crowley!”)

Crowley smile falters. He drops the banter: “Doing something quite as reckless as inviting potential robbers of those books into your bookshop, now, I wouldn’t have pinpointed you as someone who’d do that”.

He sees out of the corner of his eye how Ezra ducks his head and looks out of the window. “I was supposed to get help”.

Ah, yes. Crowley remembers the girl of the library, the one who has played Ezra’s partner in crime before snitching on him to the gang. The one Ezra hadn't imagined betraying him because he wouldn’t be capable of doing something like that to someone else, so why would her do it to him. He changes gears, keeps his eyes on the road and answers, as if in an afterthought: “Next time you plan on turning yourself and your books into bait, maybe— well, if you need a backup, a proper backup, just ask me”.

He feels more than sees Ezra’s eyes snapping back at him, and that’s more than anything out of the flush that creeps over his neck. He feels his palms sweaty, his heart beating wildly. He preemptively puts up his shields, thinks a myriad of variants of ‘I only say it so you don’t make a fool out of yourself’ and is only halfway dissapointed when Ezra changes tracks to ask: “How did you find out about the strike?”

Crowley opens his mouth, thinks about explaining how Lucius had told him in no uncertain terms to follow the gang if he wanted to keep the job. He thinks about what Ezra would tell him if he mentioned the Inferno gardening shop and its shady backroom deals altogether. He shuts his mouth.

Ezra, who can read him back to back, doesn’t even need him to put it into words. He jumps to the worse conclusion, though: “Did he... order it?”

Wait, what?

“No. He— I heard them talk about you, okay? He—”, Crowley sighs, “Okay, he told me to follow them. That’s when I heard them talking about this library, this old and weird ass librarian, and the blondie, fussy young man who helped her and, well. I pieced things together and then...”

“And you decided to come to my rescue”.

Crowley risks a quick look over. Ezra looks… kind of amused. He doesn’t know what to make out of it. His gut reaction is to tone down the statement: it’s not as if he suddenly has turned into some sort of knight in shining armour. Or that he deserves to be praised like one.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything, mainly because a hand chooses that exact momento to gently squeeze his arm, and that stops altogether his train of thought.

“You can stop wherever you can. It’s over there”, Ezra explains, pinpointing the same large block of buildings in front of which he dropped Anathema a couple of weeks before. Crowley parks, not too far away. He hopes that Ezra will invite him over. Maybe make a big show of how irresponsible is to let a drive drive that late, perhaps chide at his reckless ignorance of road manners. Something that lets him a teeny, tiny opportunity not to have to say goodbye.

“Well, thank you for—”

He rolls his eyes.

“Ezra”.

“But I’m grateful for what you’ve done! It was... nice seeing you again”.

It’s the wild, blind hope in his chest what makes him take a deep breath, braze himself for the impact and say: “You know, Hamlet. There’s ah— They’re doing Hamlet. The guys in— Shit, well, I mean”, he backpedals. Starts again, trying to say it so it makes sense. Subject, verb, complements. Come on, you can do it! “The new community theatre downtown? Some friends of mine are doing Hamlet there. They’re not— Oscar worthy, or anything, but they’re also not rubbish. And there’s a bar near, they make some pretty mean pizzas. Italian authentic recipe, all artsy. We could—”.

“I can’t”.

Crowley clasps his mouth shut.

“Right”.

He blinks a few times, keeps his eyes away, tries to will the sharp sting away.

“Crowley, I’m not ashamed of you. I just— I can’t, okay?”

Ezra squeezes his hand for a moment.

Crowley won’t cry.

“Okay, angel”, he manages.

Ezra grabs his bag and gets out of the car. He doesn’t manage to move until he sees him disappear through the entrance hall.

It doesn’t happen that night. Nor the morning after. He’s got to wait up until the afternoon shift at the Inferno for Bee to call him to the back room and hand him the shop’s phone. It’s humid in the backroom, it clings to his clothes. It almost chokes him when he hears a sweet, deep voice tell him: “You’ve got guts to show up, that I have to admit it. I’ve seen you worse for wear, though. Is that how you pay your shots now, scuffles?”

(“My brother is—”

“An idiot? A petty bastard who didn’t outgrow the bully phase?”)

“I wouldn’t stick around if I were you, our parents don’t take to too gently to your kind. Neither do I, if we’re being honest. If you want to ruin your life, that’s your problem. But the last thing we need is you dragging Ezra down with you. Specially, after what he did to get you back to school”.

Ba-dum-thud. His heart skips a beat.

“I’m going to take your little chat from last night as an aberration to the rule, but needless to say, I don’t want you to go near him ever again. Or else, there will be consequences. And you know for experience that I do follow up my words”. A pause. “Do we have an arrangement?”

Ire cloughs his throat. He’s got the phone in a death grip.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Have a nice day, Crawley”.

He hangs up.

Crowley waits one tone, two tones, before his body reacts and he stomps the phone on the receiver wishing that it was not a phone, but a certain someone’s face. Bee refrains mid-sentence to tell him how he’s going to have to pay it if he breaks.

He paces back to the front of the shop, feeling disgusted with himself, and only partially because after being at the back room he’s pooling in sweat. His mind is lost to the present, racing through images of him burning with rage at the hospital, screaming at Ezra to fuck off, to images of him burning with rage at the police station, being questioned, to images of him burning with rage at the director’s office, being told with a stern voice and pitiful eyes that even if Crowley will not be expelled for the incident, if he continued down this road, it’d probably cost him way more than his academic possibilities and he knows that . He knows there’s a missing piece in there, somewhere, though he cannot for the love of Someone pinpoint where is it. There’s the familiar weight of guilt in his stomach and a question which echoes through his brain.

What the fuck did he do?

#good omens #ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphael #myfics

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johnny-and-dora · 6 years ago

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keep you warm (wanna keep you all)

for @sandylovesfandoms, who asked for “jake pining over amy looking so cute all wrapped up in scarves” as part of the @b99fandomevents fall 2019 fic exchange! i really hope you like it!

“Thermodynamic equilibrium.” She’d grinned as he’d offered to warm up her hands on a coffee date a million years ago. He’d never found a use for his hidden talent as a walking space heater before they started dating. Now, here, everything’s always too warm and completely off balance.

or, florida man really misses his girlfriend. (prequel to 4x01)

read on ao3 -

Today, Jake thinks as he buries himself in Larry’s stupid uncomfortably warm bed wearing Larry’s stupid clothes and Larry’s stupid heartbreak, officially sucks.

Considering he’s spent the past few months living in the sunshine state, his average disposition has been anything but sunny; the tepid, swamp-like purgatory of his seemingly everlasting stint of witness protection makes it hard to feel anything other than sweaty and heartbroken. And he’s been trying to stay positive, he really has – he’s chasing leads locked away in his secret storage locker whenever he can and he’s got a contraband grainy photo of her for when he really needs it and he lies awake reassuring himself that the squad are doing everything they can to get them home.

But today especially, royally sucks; today is a hot tub burrito kind of day, a day that can’t even be improved by getting drunk and renting Die Hard or building up his case on Figgis or doing something intensely ridiculous with his hair. Today is one of those days where he knows Holt will invent an issue with their shared fence later just to check up on him, which is guaranteed to cause a whole maelstrom of guilt and awkwardness that he really isn’t equipped to deal with right now.

Because today, as the little Google doodle so obnoxiously cheerfully reminded him earlier this morning before he threw his phone across the room, is the first day of fall.

He promised Amy he’d be back before the end of summer.

He thought he knew what it was like to miss home. Six months undercover wasn’t exactly a walk in the park (especially as it had the opposite intended effect and only made his slightly debilitating crush on a certain co-worker even stronger), but now he thinks he’d take being tech support for the mafia in a heartbeat over this totally new kind of personal hell.

In the first few weeks, the list of things he missed was simple; Amy, working cases, his mom, New York pizza, the rest of the squad and Amy again.

But now, five months in, Jake has become a seasoned professional in making elaborately and ridiculously long lists of all the things he misses. He lies on top of a bed that feels too big and stares at the damp creeping in from the corners of Larry’s bedroom and watches the slow wistful spin of the ceiling fan and makes himself sick making lists.

Lists of witty lines he loves to say when he finally catches a perp. Lists of the weird foods Charles is always gushing about in his daily email blasts. Lists of things he wants to do to Figgis if he – when he finally escapes this hell hole. It helps, sometimes. Sometimes he thinks it hurts more than anything else.

It’s this terrible wonderful oxymoron, a word he only learnt because his girlfriend, among the billion million other amazing tiny things he loves about her, is a walking dictionary. It’s agony and it’s relief and it fills all the emptiness for a little while but in the end, it always makes it worse. And yet he can’t stop himself. What else is there to do?

(“Get a job.” The voice of reason in his head that always sounds a bit like Holt chimes in. He ignores it.)

Five months in, everything he misses about Amy can’t even fit on one list anymore – she has her own entire mental subcategory. In different circumstances, he likes to think that she’d be proud of his organisation skills – that helps, a little bit. The idea that when they’re finally reunited at the airport or in an epic shootout he’ll tell her that he finally understands the power of list-making in-between kisses and she’ll find it stupid hot.

Five months in, trying to stay positive means a moment of content in getting to start a new list - fall themed things he misses about his girlfriend. The luxury hot cocoa that she gets out on special occasions and the way she’s taken to always having a packet of mini marshmallows lying around especially for him. The way she always gets excited when September arrives because of all the stationary sales and the chance to add to her binder collection. The piles and piles of thick winter coats and comforters and scarves she gets out of storage practically the second the first leaf drops to the ground.

He’s struck by a vivid memory of her looking unfairly adorable all wrapped up in her hat and scarf and his leather jacket while it was barely less than 50 degrees outside. Another one of her lecturing him on how toffee apples didn’t count as part of a healthy and balanced diet. He’s overwhelmed with Amy, the way she holds his hand on walks and laughs at his dumb jokes and makes him want to see the best in people, even be a better person just so he can come closer to deserving her.

(“Thermodynamic equilibrium.” She’d grinned as he’d offered to warm up her hands on a coffee date a million years ago. He’d never found a use for his hidden talent as a walking space heater before they started dating. Now, here, everything’s always too warm and completely off balance.)

It’s not like he expected Figgis to automatically drop into the FBI’s lap as soon as fall hit, but it stings anyway; another broken promise. Sure, he had no authority to make that promise in the first place, but now they’ve spent over a full summer apart and the self-doubt and dread twist him in knots, whispers that it’s his fault. It’s all too easy to believe that.

It doesn’t help that it’s Florida - birds still scream outside his window at ungodly hours and crazy thunder and lightning crash with an intensity that makes him think of cowering under a blanket as a kid until his Nana soothed him back to sleep. It does help that they’re still in the same time zone, that sometimes he can whisper good morning or goodnight knowing that her alarm just went off or that she just settled in to do the latest NYT crossword.

He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, which only makes him feel guilty whenever he wishes she was with him.

(“You have to stay.” He’d said while his life was in the process of being unravelled and he was numbly aware of a damp patch on his shirt from where she’d been crying and the entire world was falling apart. She’d nodded, and there was the silent promise – I trust you.)

She’s going to get them back home. It’s an unshakeable fact in his mind; Amy’s still waiting for him and she’s doing everything she can to get them back home. He can’t bear to imagine any alternative.

But for now, it’s the first day of fall. Another lost day there’s no convincing positive spin for and it feels like all he can do is lie here completely helpless and worry that he’s forgotten exactly what her laugh sounds like.

***

The romanticised ideals of New York in the fall he spent all that time building up in his head don’t even remotely compare to the real thing.

Today is a good day. Sure, it might be slightly more enjoyable if he wasn’t recovering from a bullet wound and they weren’t both exhausted from the night shift - but he has a dope cane now and he no longer looks like Vanilla Ice and Amy’s holding his hand and it’s so, unbelievably good to be back home.

(He can’t stop saying it – whenever friends ask him how he’s doing or the sweet old lady that runs the bodega next to his apartment says she hasn’t seen him in a while or one of the Santiago brothers sends him a text. It’s good to be home.)

With every step, it gets a little easier; with every step, he feels a little lighter, feels a little more comfort that both Larry Sherbet and the all the totally consuming bitter loneliness that came with him is dead and buried. The auburns and the yellows and the oranges that dot the trees are so welcoming and he can’t even begin to describe how great it feels to wear his leather jacket again.

And if that wasn’t good enough, Amy’s here. Ever consistent, always grounding, the constant that his entire universe gravitates around. Amy’s here and she’s wrapped up in a coat and scarf that almost completely dwarves her and she’s smiling and Jake thinks that means balance has been restored to the universe again, maybe just a little bit. He can’t stop himself from holding her tighter and pressing an almost possessive kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the way she flushes pink and her eyes crinkle with a quiet kind of joy.

“You wanna take a break?” She asks gently, squeezing his hand – they sit on a nearby park bench, all honeyed smiles and heart eyes and generally being one of those couples that are disgustingly in love but he no longer cares – given the circumstances, they’ve more than earned a free pass to be sickening.

“Okay, so we’ve done hot cocoa and stationary shopping and autumnal park walk. What else was on the list?”

“I think that was everything. I mean, the main thing was getting to do all that stuff with you.”

“Want to go home and watch Die Hard and make out on the couch, then?”

“I love you.” He says reverently as she grins – he can’t stop saying that either. It somehow feels like he needs to make up for all the lost ones in-between.

"Love you too.” She hums dreamily, lightly muffled by all the layers she’s wrapped up in yet not an ounce of the deliberate weight behind it is lost on him. It's magic, how easily she washes all the fear and self-doubt away. He squeezes her ice-cold hands, doing his best to warm them up - when her molten gaze meets his he grins and thinks thermodynamic equilibrium and I trust you and it’s good to be home.

The list of things he misses about Amy gets left behind in a storage locker in Coral Palms – but the list of things he loves about her only grows and grows.

#b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #b99 fandom events #b99 #b99 fic #jake x amy #peraltiago #my writing #did i fill the prompt exactly? maybe not #but i hope you enjoy it anyway fhsjkss #shut up sian

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