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consistent-self-destruction · 2 years

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rahhh i am so excited for college i could seriously burst at the seams but i am also so NERVOUS

there's just so much swirling around in my mind and sometimes i'll get so wrapped up in one corner of the swirl that i forget about the rest of it until i realize "holy shit oh yeah there's more to be mindful of." like im constantly forgetting and remembering how much is going on and how much is coming

there's the anticipation of getting ready to dorm. figuring out what i'll need and what i want. and im worried because i havent seen what my dorm will really look like in person other than pictures online. but i'm a really visual person so seeing the dorm in person would help give a visual perspective of how much space i have, which will inform me of what i should buy for the space i have. it'll give me ideas on how to decorate, and just things like that. so it's nerve wracking. thinking about what i can buy for as cheap but effective as possible and how i plan to store my belongings. it's a little fun because i can picture how i WANT the room to be when i get lost in wormholes, looking at dorm essentials and decors on amazon and all. i love daydreaming so that part is fun. but then i remember that im still pretty clueless to if what im envisioning will actually work and it just makes me feel uncertain about when move in day actually comes. and i want move in day to go as smoothly as possible because i know i have a bunch of other stuff to be worried about, so i want to feel settled and comfortable in at least one area of this college process yk? and there are other dorm-related worries like, i havent gotten in contact with all my roommates yet but i need to find out if any of them are renting a microfridge so that we all dont bring one each and end up with 4 fridges in the same small space. i also havent really figured out what aesthetic i want for my space so that's something. i love my space to have personality - a lot of me in it. personal references to my experiences and things i like. i dont have much decorative freedom in my own room right now at home - but i say ive managed to make it as personable as i can with little knickknacks and things. i'd define my room as very very tame clutter core. and i like clutter core, but i also know that my clutter is because i cant buy the cute aesthetic pretty things i want. now that i kinda maybe ?? have the freedom to buy those things - will that cancel out my tendency to design in a clutter core way ?? idk, im still figuring out my aesthetic but i just hope it goes okay. i also have to figure out where to buy things. a lot i can get from the basic dollar tree or five below. other stuff - big stuff, i still have to figure out. like a 3-tier cart thing, a desk hutch - but a cute one :/, little fake plants cause god knows i cant take care of real ones for the life of me. but yeah that's one area of my mind right now.

another area of my college-infested brain right now is welcome week and settling in once school actually starts. getting adjusted to my classes and schedule without burning out you know? but still making time to meet people so i'm not too alone and confused. but also making time to give myself a breather from the college stress and just take care of myself. i'll have to find a balance. so that's something i'm a little worried about. i tend to burn out really easily.

i'm thinking about seeing my bestfriend as soon as i can because i really miss them. they said they'd visit and help me decorate and they'd bring me a "dorm-warming" gift which they made up LMAO. so sweet. i love them with my whole heart. the dorm stuff wil be fun, but i also wanna get away from college and just spend time with them so that's something im thinking about - cause i'll have to balance that with getting adjusted to school and still taking care of myself too.

i'm thinking about financial and health things !!! loose ends for school before it starts. my school requires you to be covid vaxxed to attend so i just got my first shot this past week and my second dose is gonna be the exact day after move in day. i dont know if that's gonna mess with my ability to attend ?? but hopefully not because it'll be like 3 days before the official first day of classes. i also dont know if my dad sent in my required health forms or not, but i dont wanna ask because he's a cranky old man and doesn't like it when you ask him questions. he just wants you to trust that it's taken care of, but i still cant help but worry because how do i know it's taken care of if i dont SEE it being taken care of ? if you dont tell me or show me ? so i'm thinking about that and just hoping he's tying up the loose ends. and then financial stuff too. i know he applied for fafsa / financial aid and i just saw an email that my decision was made and all so i think that's all done. but i still have a student bill that's due to be fully payed on the 10th unless you get a payment plan. and i dont know if he filed for a payment plan or not. again, he expects that i just trust he'll do what he has to, but i still cant help but have it nagging my mind. if im not 100% certain that responsibilities are taken care of, they will bite at my brain worms like the most annoying mosquitos. as for other financial things that are more in my hands ?? im also thinking about the back to school expenses of dorm room shopping hhh. that's gonna be a hefty bill and i dont know when my parents are gonna let me start buying either. if i buy anything online, it has to be early so that it delivers in time. then im thinking about my future expenses DURING school - paying for little groceries like fruits and snacks and microwave foods for the dorm. buying food occassionally when i feel like it or going out with friends or traveling to the city or visiting home. the expenses of going shopping because i'll wanna make my wardrobe more personal now that i'll have the freedom too. i can already see myself spending so much money once school starts. AND I NEED TO TAKE A LOAN OUT ON A CAR TOO GAH. because i definitely need to learn to drive asap because driving around will cut my travel expenses by a gajillion please. the campus offers work and work-study programs and they have a site and program that i can look into that on, but i cant access it right now because mom is limiting me resourcefully. i need my phone to do that two-factor authentification thing to open my student email. through my student email i can register my account for the campus work search program. but i cant do any of that because i dont have my phone to do the two-factor thing. im worried about getting a job early in the school year anyways because i already know how overwhelmed im going to get - juggling a job for the first time ever, adjusting to school, adjusting to a new life with new freedom and meeting new people and still making time for myself. i really really really dont wanna burn out. but i dont wanna go broke EITHER. so i need a job. and i wanna start exploring right now but i cant because mom is on her b.s. so it's just frustrating. and i need my phone for the other reason of contacting my roommates too. hhh.

anyways. college on da brain asf.

- 8.2.22 | 9:24 AM -

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plaidbooks · 3 years

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Autumn Leaves

A/N: Autumn prompts are an excuse for me to write stupidly cute fluff, so that’s what I did. This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic that covers the Autumn square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

P.S. second-cousins are children of cousins

Tags: none, just fluff

Words: 1872

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

“My family is insane, especially the kids,” Sonny explained while he drove you to Staten Island. “They don’t know how to sit and eat food without screaming.”

You chuckled, "it's fine, Carisi, I promise; I'm kind of used to this type of stuff already."

“What? You are? You don’t even know what’s awaitin’ ya, yet,” he replied, scoffing.

While in the precinct, you overheard Sonny on the phone with his ma. He seemed upset and perpetually tired when he hung up. When you asked him what was wrong, he told you that his ma was basically guilt-tripping him into visiting on Saturday, to help with the Autumn Feast his family partook in. And when you asked why that was so bad, he complained that no matter what they cooked, the kids of the Carisi Clan would hardly sit still long enough to eat, and would scream and cry if it wasn’t something they wanted.

“It just…it’s a handful…and not my ideal day off, even if I do get to see my family,” Sonny finished

You had nodded in sympathy before offering to go with him; you had a pretty big family with a lot of kids, too. Plus, you could never turn down Sonny’s amazing cooking, and now, you were getting a chance to taste his mom’s.

He had picked you up that morning, and now, you were on your way to Staten Island, Sonny warning you the whole way. You laughed and shrugged it off, but he kept giving you a look like you’ll see what I mean.

********************

He pulled up to his childhood home, and your eyes sparkled at the state of the townhouse. Not only was the building itself quaint and adorable, but there were decorations everywhere. And not just Halloween, but general autumn décor, as well. There were wreaths made with leaves of reds and oranges and yellows, there were scarecrows against the walls, there were fake pumpkins on every step leading to the house. And looming over the house from out back were two enormous trees, their branches almost completely bare, the leaves scattered on the roof, the front yard, and the back.

Sonny led you up the stairs to the front door, opening it for you. The first thing to assault your senses was the cacophony of noise. Children screaming in delight as they ran through the house, chatter and laughter from the various rooms as people talked. There was a tv on somewhere, with what sounded like a sports or news reporter blathering on and on.

The second thing you noticed was the wonderful smells. Your mouth was almost instantly watering as you caught the smell of garlic, potatoes, some sort of roast cooking with assorted spices, as well as cinnamon, sugar, and apples. It was so much at once; it was hard to differentiate.

But the third thing you felt was a type of warmth that comes only from a loving home. It bloomed in your chest, and you found yourself smiling as you stepped over the threshold, Sonny following and closing the door. It reminded you of the holidays at your own family’s place, and a calm washed over you.

In all of the chaos, Mama Carisi must’ve heard the door open and close, because she stuck her head out of the kitchen. Once her eyes latched onto Sonny’s, her smile grew to blinding proportions.

“Sonny, my little bambino! Come see your ma,” she cooed, arms open as she came out of the kitchen fully.

Sonny scooted passed you and hurried to his mother, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. You smiled at the reunion, and Mama Carisi opened her eyes to find you.

“And who is this?” she asked, releasing her son and coming over to you.

Sonny followed, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him; getting a hug from your ma did that to a person. “Ah, this is my partner in the department,” he explained, introducing you.

You went to shake her hand, but Mama Carisi wrapped you up in a huge hug, kissing your cheek and whispering, “it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to my home,” into your ear.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied, easily melting into her embrace—okay, maybe it wasn’t just hugging your own mom that relaxed a person; maybe it was hugging Mama Carisi.

She pulled back to give you a look, a warm smile on her face. “Anyone who’s a friend of Sonny’s is welcome here.”

The next hour was a flurry of meeting family member after family member. Even with your detective skills, you quickly forgot most names, and your cheeks started to hurt from smiling. You and Sonny had started in the kitchen before he shuttled you through the house and out to the backyard.

“And these are all my cousins and second cousins; I’m not gonna bother introducing ya, since they won’t pay attention,” Sonny said, chuckling.

You didn’t blame him; there was a gaggle of children running and playing in the backyard. The oldest looked maybe ten, the youngest around four or five.

“Are these the ones that give you such problems?” you asked as a joke. It’s true that they were loud and crazy—as most kids are.

Sonny smirked, nodding. “Sure are. Watch; I bet ya twenty dollars that at least half of them will complain about dinner.”

“You got yourself a deal,” you replied, shaking his hand. Then, you scanned the expansive backyard. Leaves were covering the ground so completely that you could hardly see the lawn; kids were slipping on them all over the place. In the back, left corner stood an apple tree, bare of fruit—you assumed they’d already been harvested. And opposite the tree sat a little toolshed.

Grinning, you made your way through the throng of people and screaming children until you reached the shed. You opened the door and leaning just inside were two rakes: one huge one, and one medium sized. You grabbed the bigger of the two, then went to a small section of the backyard that somehow had no kids.

You glanced over and saw Sonny giving you a weird look, wondering what you were doing. Then, you started raking the leaves. You didn’t expect to get very far—the first pile rarely did. But there were so many leaves that you quickly had a pile up to your hip. As soon as one kid noticed, though, it was on.

The pile was quickly demolished as child after child flung themselves into it, screaming with laughter. But you had already moved on, starting another pile where they had just vacated. This one got a little bigger than the last, since they were distracted with the first pile. But once it was seen, it, too, became a new playground.

As you started on the third pile, another rake joined you. You glanced over and Sonny was there, smiling wide as he helped you rake. This pile got to be huge before little bodies flung themselves into it.

You quickly lost track of time, had no idea how many piles you had built only to be destroyed. But that was the point of the piles in the first place. Soon enough, the children started to become too tired, their little legs worn out. Your own arms were burning, but it was a good burn, and you continued until the piles started to outnumber the children.

By the time dinner was announced, there was not a single child running and playing anymore. They were scattered along the ground, panting, and smiling at each other with a job well done. Their parents all either ushered them to one of the various tables, or simply handed them a plate. Sonny, as well as the rest of his family, watched in stunned fascination as the children ate, too tired to complain or throw a fit about what they were given.

“How the hell did you do that?” Sonny asked in a hushed voice.

You chuckled. “I told you I had experience with this; you’re not the only one with a big family. And besides, no child has ever turned down the opportunity of crunching leaves.”

He gave you a look full of awe before he broke into a wide grin. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a $20. You huffed out a laugh as he handed it to you, and you tucked it away.

Mama Carisi walked up then, looking at everyone enjoying her hard work in the kitchen. “You’re a miracle worker, dear,” she said to you before looking at Sonny, “please tell me you’re keeping her?”

Sonny’s ears turned a bright pink. “Ma!”

“What? She’s helpful, knows how to play with children, and is a beautiful, young woman—”

“Ma! Stop talking, please!” Sonny whined. You felt a heat in your cheeks as Sonny avoided looking directly at you. It wasn’t like you never thought about dating Sonny; on the contrary, you found him incredibly attractive. But you were partners; there was a line there that you didn’t know if you could cross.

Mama Carisi scoffed before walking off, leaving you and Sonny to stand awkwardly next to each other. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before he turned and went into the now mostly empty house. You gave a sweeping look at the party guests before following him in.

You found him standing in his old living room, idly looking at childhood pictures on the wall. You watched him for a moment before you moved closer, within arm’s reach.

“I’m…sorry about ma,” he muttered, eyes still focused on the pictures. “She keeps trying to hook me up with any woman around my age and just…I’m sorry.”

You gave him a soft smile that he didn’t see. “It’s okay, Sonny, really. I don’t think anything less of you or anything. We’re partners, and damn good ones, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, but…what if I don’t want to be just partners?” he asked, voice soft.

You froze; what did he say? Sonny slowly turned to look at you, saw the shock on your face. Then he was shaking his head, quickly saying, “look, forget I said anything—”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss, your lips soft against his. He let out a little gasp of surprise before he was kissing you back. One hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek, while the other went to your hip. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You felt that line that defined you as partners only start to fade away as your mouths moved against each other.

Gently, you pulled away from him, just enough to look deeply into those blue eyes you loved so much. “Maybe I don’t want to be just partners, either,” you said softly.

Sonny grinned, his thumb rubbing your cheek tenderly. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow, then?”

“Sounds like a date,” you replied, smiling up at him. His grin broadened before he dipped his head, kissing away any fears or doubts you had about this.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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moon-stars01 · 3 years

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First Impressions

Mingyu x Reader

Author:Deko

Summary:In which Mingyu is a regular and your positive your into him.

Gene:fluff,Swearing,Romance

Rating:General Audiences

~First Impressions~

You'd developed a crush.

One, which you'd hoped was fleeting because you only ever saw him around once a week whenever he'd come into your shop.

He was peculiar in the way he carried himself, he'd nestle himself in a corner and play with a trinket he found interesting and made himself laugh on plenty of occasions.

To others, you guessed, he might look half insane laughing to himself like that – but to you, you found it rather sweet.

Sweet, because he indulged in the company of himself. So few are lucky to have enough confidence to carry themselves freely without reserve or judgement, so while he struck you as peculiar, you also found him irresistibly charming for this fact alone.

He came up to you one day and completely shocked you out of your daydream – and you shuffled to hide your book to make it look like you were actually working.

He met your eyes, "Do you make this stuff?"

He pointed around the shop, and you tried to focus on the question but your mind was more drawn to the fact that his voice did not match his pretty face. You'd always imagined him more soft spoken.

"Y-yeah. Well, no" You exhaled slowly, calming yourself down. "Some. My dad makes most of it."

Ahh, wonderfully spoken. Beautifully enunciated.

He hummed in wonder, and you saw a faint smile trace his lips for a moment, before it disappeared.

He said nothing more and began to walk out of the shop.

You gasped, not wanting him to leave. He'd finally talked to you and that's all he'd had to say? The shop was empty so now was your chance to... say something, anything!

You leaned over the wooden counter, "My name's Y/N!" you half shouted, grasping onto the edge.

Really? Your name? That was the best you could do?

He turned around, eyes wide in wonderment, before they softened at the sight of you. "I'm Mingyu. See ya."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking away. He used his shoulder to push open the door and left the shop without another word.

You slumped back in your chair and took your book back out from its hiding spot, and tried to focus on the words. You were sour upon him leaving, his presence alone had always made you feel giddy, and the shop suddenly felt colder without him there.

—0–0–0–0–

The next day, Mingyu came in.

This shocked you because he never came in more than once a week; you wondered what must have been so important.

Shock was evident on your face, and when your eyes locked as he walked in the door he wore an unreadable expression.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you were stacking wooden toys and trinkets onto the shelves, and noticed that he wasn't acting the way he usually did. He seemed off.

You bit your lip and approached him quietly; he didn't look at you though, as you spoke into the air – only able to admire his side profile.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" You treaded carefully, sounding a little too meek for your liking. You didn't like the effect he had on you.

He looked to be lost in thought for a moment, before turning to look at you. "What kind of gifts do girls like?"

Your heart sank into the floor.

As your eyes trailed his face, gaze sweeping over his perfectly symmetrical features from his soft brown eyes to his pretty pink mouth you realised the insanity of your previous sentiments.

Of course he had a girlfriend, look at him for gods' sake.

You masked your sadness aptly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he'd lead you on or anything, you'd just been living in your own delusions for far too long, allowing them to manifest into actual feelings.

"The things my father makes..." You walked ahead of him around the corner and through shelves, using your index finger to indicate you wanted to be followed, "Are good for tourists, and gifts for old people."

You lead him to a little corner of the shop, one that only stocked the things that you yourself had made. It was your father's idea.

"As for me, I like to make prettier things. Things other girls might enjoy." You used your hand to gesture up and down the shelf.

Mingyu looked at you for a moment with a quirked brow, and then set his gaze to the shelf.

You watched on as he reached out to touch the eclectic weeping willow you'd made. It had taken you forever to create, hence the maybe a little outrageous price tag. You'd had many customers grumpily try to haggle the price with you, but you were fond of it, maybe you didn't really want to let it go.

"You made this?" He questioned, gaze still on it. His long fingers were delicately tracing the decorative beading on it.

"Yes." You murmured shyly, clasping your hands behind your back.

"It must've taken you a long time." He noted.

"It did." You couldn't really think of much else to say, so you continued to watch his form.

He finally leaned up, as if breaking away from his transfixed state. You'd be lying if you said you weren't flattered.

"I'll take it, then."

You blinked up at him, "Are you sure?"

He raised his eyebrow at you, small smile playing on his lips.

He picked up the tree and set off towards the direction of the counter without another word, prompting you to follow.

You rushed ahead, pushing the small wooden entryway to go behind the counter, before meeting his eyes again.

He placed the item down and you looked back up at him, searching his face for any uncertainty.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmured, avoiding his eyes.

He put his elbows on the counter and sat his head in his palms, watching you expectantly. "Sure."

Too close, he was too close!

You stepped back a fraction, hopefully to an unnoticeable degree. "Is the person this gift is for...special?"

The prying question left your mouth with little hesitation, and he too answered without it.

"Yes."

You watched as he pulled out his wallet and started fishing out notes, but you stopped him with your hand, lowering his gently.

"Then it's on me."

He looked at you, "Huh? No, I couldn't." He ignored you and set the money on the counter anyway.

"I made this a long time ago" You whispered gently, scanning the item to let the system know it was no longer in the store, "It's collecting dust here. You've also given us more business than I care to admit." Your tone was teasing when you looked up at him.

Again, his expression was unreadable.

"Would you like me to wrap it?" You asked, fighting down a sigh.

"Yes, please." His nice voice sent your heart into mini palpitations, and turned your stomach into a fluttering mess.

Stupid, traitorous body.

"Just a moment then." You took the item and walked into the back, exhaling deeply when you were out of ear shot.

You carefully wrapped the tree in bubble wrap, before setting it onto some pink wrapping paper and folding it all together nicely. You sealed it with tape before you heard the entry way doorbell ring.

You left the item in the back and wiped your dewy hands on your pinafore. Stepping out, you looked at the older woman who'd stepped into the store.

"Welcome!" You smiled at her, not familiar with her face. It was always customary to welcome newer customers, the regulars never cared quite so much.

She smiled back and set about the store, and you turned back around to go and retrieve the wrapped gift.

You brought it back out and noticed the money was still sitting on the counter, so while his attention was diverted in his zoned out state, you sneakily placed the money in the bottom of the paper bag, and put the wrapped gift on top of it – effectively hiding it.

"Here you go." You set the paper bag in front of him, and he took the handle and let it fall to his side.

"Thank you." He gave you a quick smile before heading out, and this time instead of using his hands like a normal person, or even his shoulder like he had the day before – he used his foot to push the door open and set out.

You watched his hair fly around in the wind as he stepped outside. The door shut and the bell jingled – leaving you to watch his figure through the glass doors.

His hair was so fluffy. You sighed, putting your elbow on the counter and resting your head in your palm. You wondered what it might be like to run your hands through it.

Sadly, though – that wouldn't happen any time soon. Any girl worth spending 89 dollars on an artisanal craft tree, must be special indeed. It seemed rather frivolous.

—0–0–0–0–

The next morning passed without any drama, and you found yourself during lunchtime nose deep in a book. This week had been slow, dreadfully slow – despite Mingyu and his more than occasional visits – to bring you out of the ordinary.

Your dreamlike state was shattered with a loud ringing of the entry bell, signifying the door had been opened with a little more force than necessary.

A gasp caught in your throat at the sight of Mingyu– and while you were overjoyed at his visit (3 days in a row was a new record) you couldn't help but notice the scowl on his face.

"Y/N."

He'd never said your name before, it sounded like heaven coming from him. But maybe a little bit of slipping from the clouds and plummeting down to earth kind of heaven because his tone was heated.

You watched as he rummaged through his pant pocket, before he pulled out a familiar wad of cash.

He unceremoniously dumped the notes onto the counter in front of you, and his eyes drew you to them, even though the first thing you wanted to do was look away.

"I said no. Why did you do that?" He sounded affronted, and he ran his pretty long fingers through his soft mop of hair to emphasize his frustration with you.

You wanted to say sorry, but you weren't. And if not for a faux apology, what were you supposed to say to that? So you kept quiet, hoping it would pass.

He narrowed his eyes at you sharply, and if gazes could kill...

"So, do you just go around giving away the things you make to anyone for free?" The angry set of his jaw was as frightening as it was handsome. You knew this boy – you'd been watching him for so long. His goofy, light-hearted demeanour could not be clouded with a foul mood.

And as if you were psychic, your silence seemed to stun him. He'd come in here hoping for a reaction and when he realised you weren't going to give him one it calmed him down. You watched as his tense stature relaxed, and his frown mellowed out.

"My sister loved the gift, by the way." His tone had gone soft, "She said it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. I thought so too."

Your heart rate quickened – his sister? You had a nasty habit for jumping to conclusions. It's not as if he'd come into a craft store to buy handcrafted wooden condoms.

Your heart had a pessimistic way of thinking, you'd liked him so much and for so long that your brain turned to non-functioning mush in his presence, clearly.

His sister. The tree was for his sister.

You chewed on your lower lip, trying to concentrate on evening out your breathing and heartbeat. To no avail, naturally.

His gaze was on you so strongly you could feel it. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I'm...sorry?" Wow it's like you didn't even try to be convincing.

"No you're not." He chuckled, low and quickly – and it built up into laughter much lighter "You're not sorry at all."

You looked away, caught.

From your peripheral vision you saw him slide the notes over to you, even closer than they were before. "Put the money in the register. Now."

His tone didn't leave much room for debate, it was low and persuasive and you found yourself trembling at the thought of saying no.

"I want to watch you do it."

You detected hints of flirtation in his tone but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself, so you reached out to grab the money and just get it over and done with, but he was quicker.

He snapped the money back up and held it between his middle and forefinger, just for the purpose of keeping your gaze. "And don't try this again, I live too far away to keep coming back like this."

You tilted your head in question, he lived far away?

You held your hand out and he gave you the money, allowing you to put it in the register underneath his watchful gaze.

You shut it, and looked up. "Satisfied?"

He grinned at you, "Very..." A pause,

"Don't sell yourself short, don't ever try to give some guy free things, especially when they're so beautifully and carefully crafted."

You felt mildly affronted by his accusations. "What do you mean by some guy?" your lips fell into a thin line, the previous mood shattered. You chose to ignore the latter half of the sentences flattery.

"I don't know. Maybe if some guy you like comes in with his friends and charms the pants off of you and I don't know... you just give away your things for free."

You gave him a look of complete confusion. Was he daft?

"I like you, jerk."

Your hands came up to your mouth, as if it would do any good. Why had you said something so rash?

His eyes went wide, and if you didn't know any better you might have seen his face flush.

"What, why? You don't even know me..." He scratched the back of his head, "For how long?"

How coherent of him?

"Why? Because I can. I might not know you but, that doesn't mean I don't want to! And, uh, a while..." You huffed indignantly at the end of your mild outburst.

"No, god I mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I wouldn't say I like you, it's more of a crush... I don't know how to explain it, how can you like someone you don't know? You know?"

He had a fair point, in all his jumbled musings, perhaps blurting out your affections so carelessly made him think you were someone who used those words often.

"Well..." you thought, deflecting, "how can you have a crush on me then? Or whatever it is you want to call it."

"I asked first."

You almost scoffed, folding your arms. "Because I see you looking around and you're always happy. This is my father's store, and it makes me happy seeing you happy inside of it."

How many times did you just use the word happy?

He looked pleased at your admission, a sweet sly smile playing at his lips.

You sighed, "Now you."

"Alright" he shifted his balance onto his other leg, looking far taller and more imposing than he should have for someone so pleasant. "You make me curious, that's why."

Huh?

He rolled his eyes at your blank stare of confusion, "You make me curious. Whenever I come in you scramble to hide the books you're reading, to pretend like you were working." There was laughter in his voice, "It's cute..." he leaned in closer over the counter, "and it makes me so curious, I always wanted to know what you were reading."You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment, "You could've just asked."

"No..." he hummed in reply "Because I spent my time in here day dreaming about what you might be reading. It entertained me."

You huffed, "Nice to know I'm a good source of entertainment."

"And whenever you look over at me..." He ignored you and carried on, "And I notice from the corner of my eye and look back, you always look away. Why do you do that?"

All of this time he'd never let on just how attentive he was to you. Knowing this embarrassed you to no end.

You didn't answer him.

"Why do you do that?" He tried again, his voice sounded closer than before. He looked so handsome with confusion lacing his features."I don't know." You bit back shyly

"You're a shit liar, do you know that?" he bit his lip and gave you a once over, "I'll ask you one more time, why do you look at me like that?"

You played with the frills on your sleeves out of nervousness and pat down your store pinafore one too many times than was necessary, desperately needing a distraction from your ever fluttering stomach.

"Y-you know you're nothing like I thought you'd be." You muttered

He smirked and gave you a look as if to say, 'no shit.'

"Wrong answer." Was what he whispered back instead.

The two of you just stood there staring at one another, and you couldn't discern whether or not the silence was comfortable, or unbearable.

You could've sworn his eyes darted to your lips for a moment, but the spell was broken when the bell sounded and a customer came in through the door.

"Welcome!" You got out, albeit breathlessly.

You met eyes with Mingyu again, and he looked as if he was on the brink of saying something. He sucked in an annoyed breath and looked away. But that façade didn't last long because a second later his attention was back on you.

"What time do you get off?"

Your eyes darted to the clock. 5.20. You had 10 minutes left but you'd rather clock out early than have to wait through the tension of, well, whatever the hell you'd call this.

You watched as your final customer left after looking around extremely briefly.

"Now." You whispered, taking off your pinafore gently and setting it beneath the counter.

You went out back for only a moment and switched the power off, coming back out to meet Mingyu.

Your nervousness was palpable, and you patted down your jean skirt that was beneath the pinafore, hoping that your blouse was presentable enough.

It felt like time was moving very slowly as the two of you walked out of the store together, his beautiful features were darkened in shadow – illuminated only by the soft cloudy light emanating from the glass doors.

The two of you slipped out wordlessly, but not before you flipped the sign at the door around to 'Sorry! We are CLOSED.'

—0–0–0–0–

Mingyu took you to a park that was close by, and while the sun wasn't out shining, there was a real charm to the dull grey – with little hints of blue dotted throughout the sky.

The two of you sat on a bench overlooking a field of grass and trees, with flowers scattered about, growing in sparse groups.

"You know, I'm sorry for teasing you." He murmured, looking forward.

You smiled, only a little.

You often day-dreamed about Mingyu taking you out, but back then he didn't have a name to his face. He was just the smiling boy who'd come in whenever he felt like it, with no routine.

But now that you knew the kind of flirtatiousness and deadly charm of which he was capable, it got you to thinking. Just what exactly was it that you liked about him? He had every right to tease you, and to question – because in his eyes you were just a silly girl with an even sillier, baseless crush.You turned to look at his side profile, marvelling at the perfect sculpture of it. "You are?"

"Yeah. Can I tell you the truth?" There was an odd sort of smile on his lips – that met somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

You nodded – hopefully he caught it in his peripheral vision.

"At first I was annoyed with you – for telling me you liked me so carelessly. I thought maybe you'd said it to lots of people before me, I got jealous I suppose." He leaned off to the side of the bench and sat back up with a daisy in his hand, and when he started picking at the petals you supposed it was to put his energy somewhere. "But seeing the way you act when I even... look at you. The way you look at me, it's..." he sighed softly, thoughts dribbling off into nothingness. You hadn't even realised he thought so deeply about you, you felt awful for making him uncomfortable – even without realising it."What I'm trying to say is that I understand you." He finalised "I'm drawn to you, too, more than I can understand why."

You smiled softly, suddenly feeling very warm.

"But, you don't know me, Y/N." He looked at you – looking far too beautiful in all his earnest composure. "Can you live with that?"

"For now." You whispered, "But I meant what I said before, is it so wrong to want to get to know you?"

"Which..." He inhaled and reclined into the bench, legs splayed out in a boyishly charming manner "Which me did you start to like, how was I?"

You thought about the confusing question for a moment, "You smiled a lot. Made a lot of weird, goofy faces at inanimate objects my father and I made. Ridiculously charming stuff." You giggled "And you'd always buy the silly things that my dad loves and I loathe. You know, the wooden sculptures with odd anatomy. I told him there was no market for it, but you became the market." You bit your lip to keep from laughing harder.You paused, "I'll only be a little upset if that isn't the real you."He pulled his lower lip through his teeth and turned to look at you, there was something indiscernible about his gaze, "Only a little?" he whispered.

A.Lie.

"Yeah..." You trailed off

"Do you make it a habit to lie?" he scoffed, turning away from you. "I already told you, you're a bad liar."

"'Shit', I believe was your adjective of choice."

You watched him grin, if you were brave enough to call it that. "I'm serious, Y/N. If you want my truths you have to give me yours, it's the only way we can figure out..." his index finger flicked between the two of you in an exaggerated gesture "Whatever this is."

He was right. He was probably always right.

"I'd be upset, but I'm sure I could get used to every part of you."

Satisfied, he seemed to drop it. "Good, because it is a part of me, before you that is."

You quirked your brow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You make me nervous." He concluded simply.

"I make you nervous? You never let that on, at all." You murmured, truthfully confused.

Mingyu seemed very well put together. He was a person who you'd always assumed never gave two shits about the thoughts of other people. But the more time you spent with him alone, the more you realised your awful habit of projecting personalities onto people was a dangerous game to play.

The Mingyu you had feelings for was only a small part of his personality, there was more depth to him than he let on.

"I'm a better liar than you." He was looking at you fully, now.

It was silent for a while before he spoke up again, "My mom took me to this area when I was a little younger during the holidays. You didn't work at the shop at that time but I vaguely remember seeing your face. I loved the eccentric toys your father made, so I always asked my mom to bring me back."

This was news to you, you didn't remember him at all. But listening to him recollect so fondly about your store made your heart swell with pride. That's all your father had ever wanted, a homelike store full of warmth and treasures people of all ages could enjoy.

The store was especially bustling during holiday season and irrevocably dead during off season, so it was understandable you didn't recognize his face.

"I always drive down here when I get the time. I feel at home here for some reason because I have good memories of the store – it was so magical and big when I was a kid, not so much now, naturally."

"Yeah, you're huge." You cut in.

He snickered before continuing on, "Since I felt at home in your store I always got a little comfortable, entertaining myself. But then I noticed you looking at me once, and I don't know what it was about it, but, something happened to my heart that day."

You blinked a few times, trying to absorb all of this information. He was a wonderful speaker – his voice was so calming and deep you found it hard not to fall in.

"Your heart?" You questioned delicately, just trying to make sense of the connection the two of you seemed to have – which until today had gone severely unnoticed.

"Yeah. And before I knew it I was nervous, I couldn't act the way I usually did because I was afraid it would scare you off or something. I felt like I couldn't be myself around you, you were too beautiful for that." He ran a hand through his hair after the statement, and you felt blessed to have seen him do it up so close.

"That's...shallow. You were willing to change who you are, for me? Because you thought I was pretty?" You laughed lightly at the notion

He raised his eyebrow at you and leaned in close, "Shallow?"

You swallowed at the close proximity.

"You never answered my question, and I've been so truthful I think I deserve an answer..." He ran his tongue along his lower lip, following the teasing lilt in his tone. He was teasing you, and he wasn't attempting to conceal it this time.

You knew exactly what question he wanted the answer to.

'Why do you look at me like that?'

He fucking well knew the answer to it too, and you wondered if he was 50% kindness and 50% mischief – maybe 60/40.

But you were certain, even after everything he'd divulged to you – you'd take all 50% of his teasing, of his bullying and smirks and eyebrow raises and every other bloody thing that came along with Mingyu's personality – if it meant you got to see him laugh with glee from time to time.You'd gotten caught up in your thoughts while watching him, and you shook your head to shake you out of the dazed reverie.

"You were doing it just now." He fell back dramatically into the bench, leaning his head back "Christ."

"Sorry."

"No you aren't!"

You giggled, then.

"No really. I am, I'm sorry. I didn't ever want to make you uncomfortable. That's the truth. It was the last thing I wanted." You felt a little ashamed of yourself, at not ever being able to hide your feelings well.

Your inability to do so had caused the person next to you a great deal of confusion.

"Whoever said I wanted an apology from you? I love the way you look at me. But I told you before, I'm curious." He shifted close to you, impossibly so. Close enough that your thighs were touching – but his were clothed.

"If you don't tell me, I'll kiss you."

You looked at his mouth and had to fight back laughter. That was a threat? Oh boohoo, that would be awful.

Perfectly annoyed by him, you grabbed gently at the collar of his shirt and brought his mouth to yours. He let out a low, pleased noise – melting into your touch.

His lips felt like heaven on yours, they were soft and warm – and the noises of pleasure he was making was doing little to stifle the rampant thumping of your heart. He kissed back with fervour, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him further.

When it had all gotten too much, he pulled away slowly and hesitantly, before putting his head into the crook of your neck and letting out a soft sigh. "That was unfair." He whispered, leaning back to look at you. "You're avoiding giving me an answer."

"Are you done being a brat or are you going to admit that you already know the answer?" You wound your arms around his neck and played with the back of his hair, admiring the feel. It was as soft as you'd imagined.

"Is it so wrong to want to hear it from you?" He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours again quickly.

You laughed softly into the little space between you, effectively ignoring him.

"I really am sorry about liking you so early. But I think it'll be very easy to like all of you,Mingyu." You hoped you sounded sure.

"You're not sorry." He bit his lip, smiling through the gesture.

"You're right." You whispered, leaning up and placing a delicate kiss to his forehead, and lingering far longer than necessary;

"I'm not."

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #stories #kpop #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #mingyu fic #seventeen kim mingyu

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thewickedkings · 3 years

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Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 10

Masterlist || AO3 || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: Mild cursing. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

A/N: This chapter is even longer than the last one, at 4k words. Also, you’re welcome in advance.

That Sunday was one of the busiest at the café. Students were streaming in to work on all their assignments before Thanksgiving break, and by the time they caught a break, Jude was out of breath.

“Damn, I don’t think it’s ever been this busy,” Lili said, wiping her forehead.

“No wonder no one else wanted this shift.”

Lili groaned. “I have to go home and write not two, but three essays. I know I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but it was my birthday week.”

“I’ll help you edit them if you want,” Jude offered. For some reason, she actually enjoyed editing essays, and Lili had definitely taken advantage of that in the past. “And you know it’s called birthday, not birth week,” Jude snarked.

“Shut up, Ms. I-made-googly-eyes-with-Cardan-all-night.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did. Now please tell me what happened, because I know something did. The sexual tension when you guys came back down was disgusting.”

Thankfully, Jude was saved by a customer who had walked in. But Lili was stubborn, and after Jude took her order, she pressed, “Nope. Spill.”

Jude grimaced before recounting the incident, which she now referred to in her head as ‘the bathroom incident.’

Lili gasped comically. “Oh my God. Cardan has more game than I expected. Kissing your thumb after band aiding it? Hold on.” She called out the customer’s name, leaving the drink on the counter, before returning. “Damn, that’s smooth.”

Jude groaned. “I know.”

“Wait, did anything happen when he drove you home?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Jude blushed even more as she remembered the drive. They had been bickering as usual, as if that could stop them both from thinking about the increasing tension between them.

And then the silence they’d both been avoiding like cowards descended. The painful, awkward as hell silence.

By the time they got to her house, Jude was anxious to get out of the car. She reached for the door handle right as Cardan spoke, staring straight ahead. “So we’re really not going to talk about it?”

She froze, not expecting them to address it. “Talk about what?”

“Jude.”

“Cardan,” she mimicked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine then.” He pushed his door open at the same time as Jude.

“What are you doing?” “Walking you to your door.”

“I can walk to my door by myself.” Her foot caught on the edge of the sidewalk, and she’d stumbled before righting herself.

“Righttt,” Cardan drawled and followed her up the sidewalk.

She ignored him, pulling out her keys and unlocking the front door. “Okay, you can go now, loser.”

“Weirdo,” Cardan said.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Cardan snickered. “Nice comeback.”

“Shut up.” She felt his gaze on her back and was thankful for the dark, because she was blushing for no reason.

“You shut up.”

They both snickered like the immature idiots they were, and Jude knew she had steered clear of the conversation for now.

When Cardan reached his car, he hollered. “We’re going to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she hollered right back.

Cardan just grinned. “See you tomorrow, Duarte.”

Her expression must have been doing something weird at the memory, because Lili snorted. “You’re in deep shit.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Um, maybe first off, actually admit you like him?”

“I do not.”

The Bomb raised her eyebrows.

Jude groaned. “I can’t like him. Not him of all people.”

“But you doooo,” the Bomb sing songed. “You and Cardan are in-”

“Lili, I will not help you edit your essay if you don’t shut up right now.”

She went silent immediately. “That’s just cruel.”

Jude grinned. “So… how’s Van?”

Lili glared. “You’re not subtle at all.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

She wiped down the counter, silent for a beat before she sighed. “Fine. He’s just- I think I need to move on.” Jude opened her mouth to interrupt, but the Bomb continued. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, I think he likes me like that, but I don’t know… he’s always so skittish when I try to take things further. And I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

Jude knew there was more to the story, but before she could say anything, a group of girls entered the café, and Jude had to take their orders. She dismissed it, figuring she’d bring it up later.

~~~

Jude didn’t see Cardan at school the next two days. Meeting her college application deadlines took up most of her time, and before she knew it, it was Thanksgiving Break. Vivi came home from college, and suddenly their house was much more lively than usual.

Before Thanksgiving dinner, Vivi stomped into Jude’s room and shut the door behind her. “I know I haven’t visited much, but what’s going on between you and Taryn?”

Jude pulled out her headphones from her ears. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s what she said too!”

“Viv, just leave it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, because even Oak’s annoyed at this point.”

“He is?”

“You are all idiots,” Vivi mumbled on her way out of the room, before popping back in. “Oh, by the way, I think your mac n cheese is burning.”

“Shit! Why didn’t you say that first?”

Throughout dinner, Vivi proceeded to force Jude and Taryn into conversation. The ease at which Vivi slipped back into their dynamic was uncanny after so many months away, but Jude supposed that was the way with family.

Madoc and Oriana carried the turkey to the table while Jude prepared for the grand reveal. Oak bounced in his seat in anticipation of what had becomes Jude Thanksgiving tradition. When Jude pulled back the foil to reveal her mac n cheese, it looked perfectly fine. Except for unmistakably charred edges

Taryn snorted. “It’s definitely better than last year’s.”

Jude cracked a grin. Maybe there was something to say about Thanksgiving in bringing the family together.

~~~

Jude spent the end of the break hanging out with Lili, Van, and Garrett. The weird energy between Lili and Van was palpable, and Jude instinctively looked for Cardan to raise her eyebrows at before realizing he wasn’t there. Cardan had texted that he was busy with family stuff on the group chat, and Jude couldn’t help but wonder if he was avoiding her. Logically, she knew she was being self-centered and he probably was busy, but the thought stung more than it should have.

Monday came far too quickly, and Jude rubbed her eyes as she walked to her first class, bumping into the last person she expected to see: Locke. For the past few weeks, she’d been messing with him, but not too obviously that he would suspect she knew about what he did. Her revenge plan was still brewing, but until then, she could have some fun.

She and Lili made a game out of replying to his texts with the weirdest responses, just to see how much he could take. Her favorite was when she had ‘accidentally’ sent him a picture of two tampon boxes, asking which one she should get. When he had responded with a ‘whichever one fits??’ Jude had exploded with laughter before clarifying that it wasn’t meant for him, except that it definitely was.

When she’d asked him if he wanted to come to dinner to meet her sister and her parents, with an emphasis on her dad, he had avoided her for the next two weeks.

Which made it even harder to control her laugh when his face paled when he saw her. “Sorry, I’d better get going. I’m going to be late.”

“Right. Let me know if you can make it to dinner. My dad really wants to meet you.”

Locke practically tripped as he ran away from her.

“Damn, Duarte, what did you say to scare him?” Cardan’s familiar voice drawled out from behind her, and a grin escaped her lips, a small part of her relieved that he sought her out. She hadn’t realized how ingrained he was into her routine until she hadn’t seen him for a week.

His pace matched with hers until they were walking side by side, falling into their familiar groove.

“Just mentioned how much my dad wanted to meet him for dinner.”

Cardan grinned and handed her a cup full of coffee.

“What’s this for?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s black. I don’t know why you would willingly drink that, but you do you.”

“Yes, okay, but why’d you get me coffee?”

“Consider it me paying you back for accidentally spilling your coffee that one time.”

“Accidentally, my ass.” She frowned at her cup. “It’s not poisoned is it?”

“Fine. If you don’t want it, I’ll find some other psychopath who likes black coffee.”

Jude hugged her coffee protectively to her chest. “No. Mine.”

“I figured. Also, we need to finish our project. It’s due…“

“Next week, I know,” Jude cut off. “We still haven’t bought a poster.”

Cardan groaned. “We should have gotten one from Dollar Tree.”

“Well maybe you could’ve gotten that instead of a tiara,” she said, grinning up at him as they stopped in front of her class.

Cardan rolled his eyes. “So are you free Thursday night?”

“Yeah. Text me when later.”

“Good. We’ll talk then,” he said, with an extra emphasis on the word talk. His eyes dropped shamelessly to her lips, long enough that it was anything but unintentional, before he smirked and strode away.

Jude called after him, unwilling to let him get the last word. “About the project!”

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?” He disappeared before she could respond.

Kissing. She was thinking about kissing him. Ugh.

She grumbled angrily to herself as she placed her bag next to her desk. When she caught Taryn staring at her, she snapped, “What?”

Taryn opened her mouth to speak, but the bell interrupted her. “Nothing.”

~~~

After soccer practice on Thursday, Jude went home to take a shower. While blow drying her hair she texted Cardan to figure out when they were meeting up. He immediately responded with ‘can’t do my place,” and Jude frowned. After a couple messages, they ended up deciding to go to the library at Cardan’s suggestion.

Oak was throwing a fit over something or another as she headed out the door, and Oriana paused their argument to place a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “Heading out?” It wasn’t in an overbearing tone, just gentle.

“Yeah. To the library.” Jude hesitated, battling the urge to say something more. Oriana might not have been her real mother, but Jude realized what a blessing it was to have someone that checked up on her and cared the way Oriana did. She swallowed and said, “I’ll be back soon,” and headed out.

By the time she got to the library, Cardan had already texted that he was there. Seconds after she turned off her car, a knock sounded on her window, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Cardan grinned sheepishly when she opened her door. “Sorry.”

She shrugged it off and handed him the poster she from the passenger seat. She glanced around the parking lot for his car. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked.” At the shock on her face, Cardan added, “Don’t look at me like that. Just because we live in a suburb doesn’t mean I have to drive everywhere. Plus, it’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

“Okay, but… car. Fast. Walk. Slow.”

Cardan rolled his eyes and tugged her wrist impatiently. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

They walked through the archway that opened up into the entry area of the library, ‘welcome’ inscribed into the stone. The wall behind the front desk was patterned with hexagons of different pastel colors, and the librarian behind the desk gave them a friendly smile. Her dark brown hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of gray beginning to appear.

“Cardan, nice to see you. I see you’ve brought a friend,” she said to Cardan. Her honey-colored eyes glanced at Jude with curiosity.

“Um, yeah. Mel, this is Jude. We’re doing a project together.”

Jude introduced herself, trying to hide her own curiosity.

Mel smiled at Jude warmly. “It’s nice to meet one of Cardan’s friends.” Turning to Cardan, she added, “The back room is empty, if you two want to head there.”

Cardan thanked her and gestured Jude to follow him. They passed the kid’s section, which was littered with bright signs and seating, and when they were out of hearing distance, Jude asked. “So… you come here a lot?”

“Um, I guess. I came a lot when I was a kid, so sometimes I stop by.” The tips of his ears turned pink, and damn, Jude felt something squeeze in her chest at the sight.

“Cool.”

His head jerked up at her response, and whatever he saw in her expression had him reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together. He tugged her hand, and she followed him through the stacks, the only sound their footsteps and the comforting hum of the library.

She grinned at the floor. This boy never ceased to surprise her.

They stopped in front of a room divided from the rest of the library by a wall of glass, and Cardan pushed open the door. The opposite end of the room was also completely glass, and the window looked out over the lake behind the library. A table with four chairs was on the left, and a cozy armchair sat on the right.

Cardan let go of her hand, and she ached to pull it back to hers, feel the warm callouses of his palm against hers. Instead she put the poster on the table and pulled out her laptop. “This is nice. I’m surprised no one else took it.”

“Mel saves it for me sometimes.”

Jude snorted. “You really do charm everyone, don’t you?”

Cardan sat down across her, humming in agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I charm you too.”

“Keep waiting.”

Cardan kicked her leg under the table, and she bit back a smile. If his leg stayed there, pressed against the side of hers while they worked, neither of them mentioned it.

~~~

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Jude said, as she looked down at their poster. Yes, it did feel like a fifth grade science fair project, but Jude was still proud of it. Something about cutting and gluing things together made it seem so much more satisfying.

“Not bad? This is fucking gorgeous.” Cardan pushed his curls off his forehead, his silver rings catching the light. Jude’s brain automatically snagged on how unfair it was that guys could have such attractive hands. Like how did that even make sense?

Her gaze caught on them now, eyes tracing the veins and the flex of his fingers where they tapped against the edge of the table. She’d noticed that Cardan always seemed to fidget with his hands, unable to keep them unoccupied.

“Jude?”

“Hm?” She pushed her thoughts away and tried to focus. “Yes, gorgeous,” she agreed.

He gave her a strange look, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. She started hastily picking up the scraps of paper and tidying up the table. When she dared to meet his gaze, he looked like he was battling himself with something.

“What’s up with you and Locke?” Cardan blurted a few seconds later.

“What do you mean?”

This time, his words were a little more deliberate. “I know you’re messing with him, but does he think you’re… dating?”

“I don’t know. We only went on one date, and I pretty much scared him off when I mentioned my dad.” She shrugged, confused as to why he was bringing up Locke. “Does it matter?”

His hand stilled. “I guess not.”

Silently, the two of them worked until they had finished gluing on all the information. They cleared up the excess papers and started cleaning up.

“So when are you going to break it off with him?”

“Well, I was planning to do a whole revenge prank thing, but I haven’t fully planned it out yet,” she said contemplatively, scraping off the dried glue from her fingers.

When she looked up, Cardan was looking at her with a devious smile. “What?”

“I have an idea.”

~~~

The sky was dark when they arrived at the grocery store. As they placed their items on the counter to check out, the cashier gave them a strange look. Jude simply smiled and said, “Isn’t it such a wonderful night?”

At Cardan’s direction, Jude drove to a neighborhood a few minutes from Cardan’s, and they parked in a darkened spot on the side of the street.

Jude’s nerves thrummed in anticipation. She hadn’t been this excited in so long, probably since the last time she had pranked Cardan. She had to admit that scheming with someone made it all the more fun.

Cardan pulled on a black sweatshirt, and his eyes met hers as he pulled up the hood to cover his curls. The wicked grin he sent her made her stomach squeeze.

“You take the right, and I’ll cover the left?”

She nodded, and silently opened the door and stepped out as Cardan did the same.

They crouched on the sidewalk next to some trees and silently made their way towards the lone house at the end of the street. Thankfully, Locke’s car was parked out front. They hadn’t exactly planned for it if his car had been in the garage.

A car door slammed across the street and Jude looked at Cardan. “Where-”

He clapped his hand over her mouth before she could finish, and he pointed across the street. A car was reversing out of the house next to Locke’s, its headlights nearly passing over them. Her heart beat furiously against her chest.

The car drove away, and Cardan suddenly dropped his hand from her mouth. Her lips burned from the ghost of his hand, and her heart sped up for a completely different reason.

“That was close,” she whispered breathlessly, and Cardan nodded, his eyes darting away from hers.

They crept up his driveway, and Cardan passed her three rolls of plastic wrap from his backpack. Slowly, Jude unfurled the plastic wrap, and pushed it over the top of his car until Cardan caught it. He wrapped it over his side before rolling it under the car back to Jude. She hadn’t realized how painstaking the process would be, but they kept at it. The sound of the unfurling wrap seemed too loud against the silent night.

Twenty long minutes later, Jude passed the last of the last of the final roll of wrap to Cardan. She waited for Cardan to secure it into place, shifting impatiently on the balls of her feet.

A gentle whirring sound cut through the night, and Jude’s eyes flew to Cardan, who was tip-toeing back towards her from around the car.

“Run,” he whispered urgently.

She grabbed Cardan’s backpack from the ground right as a spray of water hit her arm, drenching her and the side of the car. She glanced behind her and almost laughed, realizing the sprinklers had turned on, not some sort of security device like she had thought in her panic.

Cardan looked at her, his eyes glinting with laughter. “Come on, let’s go.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

They ran across the sidewalk like criminals fleeing from a crime scene, narrowly avoiding the sprinklers, and Jude felt giggles breaking out of her chest. Her heart pounded against her chest, her breath coming out in pants. The cold water pressed into the skin of her arm, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Cardan’s hand in hers.

They ran all the way back to her car, and they finally stopped to catch their breath. Jude leaned back into the car, panting, her hands braced on her chest to hold her heart in.

Her eyes met Cardan’s, who was panting as if he had just been in a police chase, and a giggle escaped her mouth. And then another. And then both of them were laughing like maniacs.

“Who the fuck-” she laughed, “turns on their sprinklers-” another fit of giggles overtook her. “-at midnight?”

Cardan laughed harder, leaning into her, a palm bracing himself on the car behind her. “Your face,” he wheezed, “when the sprinklers turned on-”

She could barely breathe in. “The way you said run, oh my god.” She broke into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach. Cardan wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

Eventually, Jude’s laughter slowed. The sound of crickets chirping and cars whizzing by on the street behind the neighborhood settled into the air as they caught their breaths. Jude leaned back against the car, tipping her head back up to the night sky.

Cardan was still leaning into her, the moonlight casting a faint glow over his face. When she met his eyes, his lips tipped up in a little smile that sent warmth to her stomach.

With a will of its own, her hand reached up to push back his hoodie, cradling his jaw, and he swallowed, his expression sobering.

A breeze blew over them, lifted a strand of her hair from her face. Her heartbeat thudded against her chest, a different type of adrenaline shooting through her body as his eyes darted to her lips.

In an unspoken agreement, Jude leaned up, and Cardan’s head bent down to reach hers.

Their lips brushed hesitantly, a barely-there kiss, before Cardan pulled back slightly.

Oh. Oh.

“Jude.” His voice was hoarse, a question, a plea exhaled across her lips, and she silenced it with her mouth.

Their resolve snapped, and Cardan’s hand slipped to cradle the back of her head as his head dipped and his lips pressed into hers, again and again and again, warm and soft and desperate. Jude buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, until she was pressed against the car, his forearms caging her in.

She had never been kissed like this.

It felt as though they were running past the sprinklers again, a rush of adrenaline running through her body. Her lips parted under his, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that set her blood on fire. Her thoughts fizzled into nothing, everything except the two of them fading away.

When they pulled back for air, Cardan’s lips were swollen, and both of them were panting. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand still tangled in her hair, and Jude‘s eyes finally fluttered open.

“That,” Cardan rasped, “was worth waiting for.”

“Shut up.” Her voice was a little too breathless for her liking.

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” he murmured as he nuzzled the side of her face, and she felt goosebumps erupt on her arm. “Now you know exactly how to make me shut up.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head, barely close enough for another kiss, before shoving him back, hoping distance would help her regain her composure. “You wish. There are other ways to shut you up.”

He stumbled back with a breathless laugh. “I do wish.” He glanced around at the street, as if just remembering where they were. “We should probably go.”

“We should. Wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Okay, right.” His hands spazzed at his side for a moment before he spurred into motion, opening her door for her with a roguish grin.

Jude didn’t exactly know what she was getting herself into, but she couldn’t bring herself to put an end to it.

~~~

A/N: And there you have it, the scene that inspired this whole thing. It’s the first scene I even wrote, and everything else was just fun to write to lead up to it. I was about to cut this chapter off before the last scene, but I decided to keep it in because it takes me forever to update. Like I said at the beginning, you’re welcome 😌 I hope it’s as good as it was in my head 😭

Okay, but the fact that this is the tenth chapter and people are still reading?!! Thank you all so much for reading this and supporting this!! I probably would have abandoned this if not for you <3

As usual, let me know what you think in the comments!! Reblogs are appreciated :)

Check out my masterlist for more of my writing!

Tagging: let me know if they work or not

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@goddess-of-writing @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @charrise @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9 @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife @aknymph @thefolkofthefic @snorting-up-pizza @fandomfanatic987 @fandom-will-be-the-death-of-me @cardanslittletail @curlyredqueen06 @losssssstttttt @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @omfglucayababies @judiecardan @woodsbeyond1 @yourroyalbooknerd @ireallyshouldsleeprn @st00pid231 @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @herladyshipxx @emmabookworm08 @ducksmurf135 @jurdanhell @booksandothersecrets @fangirlprincess09 @ysitsohardtofindaname @dressedindustandshadows @mickeymouse-house @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @courtofjurdan @blackjacks-donuts @pig-on-acid @krispytalerebel @misskillerdarkness @sanctalina@dirigibledinosaur @foreverscreaming

#between the two of us #chapter 10 #my writing #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #tfota fanfic #tfota fanfiction #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #literally one of my favorite tfota fics #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan fanfiction

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achliegh · 3 years

Text

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 7:

Fast!

Bar Playlist: Youtube, Spotify

Fishing In the Dark

“Okay Logan, we are going to be on Peanut together. Sound good?” Leo held a kiss dazed Logan’s face in his hands as they spent the last hour convincing Logan to go on the trail ride with them. Kissing him until he couldn’t focus on his fear was seeming to work the best. Finn got in on it too before he had gotten on his own horse, along with most of the team. Celeste and Dumo decided to stay behind and help Judy clean up.

Leading a still dazed Logan over to Peanut he helps him up, Leo following soon after. Hands under Logan's arms holding the reins. Lo was leaning back into Leo’s chest and only noticed they were on a living vehicle when said vehicle started moving to join the others.

Leo rubbed a soothing hand over his side to let him know he was okay. Finn and Clay trotted over to Leo and Logan with a smile on their faces. There was a brown Burmese cat that was lazily stretched across Leroy’s rear behind Clay.

“It’s about time! From what I’ve heard Logan is pretty good at riding, should transfer over to equine.” Clay winks and Logan smacks Leo’s arm as he tries to hide his laugh. “Just know that Leo tells me everything… even stuff I don’t want to know. But I do the same with him.” Clay shrugs and turns around going over to Thomas, Noelle and Reg, the cat just fully relaxed as Leroy bumped it around.

“How long have you had him?” Thomas vaguely gestures to Clay and his posse.

“About 4 years, found him in the woods eating a rabbit.” Clay smiles at him as they ride side by side down the trail Leo and Logan were leading. Jerry, a little song bird that loves to ride with Leo anytime he goes down the trail perching himself on the rim of Leo’s hat.

“Wha- I thought horses were herbivores!” Clay looks up at a confused Thomas and raises an eyebrow, then it clicks.

“Oooohhhh, you think Leroy is a HE! Nope, she’s a mare! Had her since I was 9 years old. Tina is a man though, fathers all the kitties around the farm.” Smiling his million dollar smile at him. “I also have a sand boa named William-”

“Snakespear?” Clay blinks a few times and laughs nodding.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe to some of us who… maybe still browse Tumblr on occasion.” Thomas winks at him causing Clay's face to heat up, swallowing the happy feelings that he knows he can’t have. He smiles back and trots ahead to be next to Logan and Leo.

Logan was gripping Leo’s wrist the entire trail ride, Finn was so distracted at one point Kuny let go of a tree branch and it smacked him across the face because he didn’t listen when he was told to duck.

It was a nice relaxing ride through the countryside, nothing fancy, just an easy going adventure. Everyone made it back to the pasture in one piece, thank god, everyone was hopping off and unsaddling the horses.

Leo got off Peanut first just for a moment, in that moment he watched Logan completely freak out when Peanut took three steps to the left to graze. Hiding his smiling by sucking his lips in between his teeth, walking over to Lo he helped him off of the horse. Logan was clinging to Leo like a koala, and tight enough it was hard for Leo to breath.

“You okay?” Leo put a hand under Logan’s booty to support him and ran his other hand through his soft curls. Hoping he felt safe now.

“I am now.” Logan looks up at him and smiles before lightly nipping at his jaw. Leo laughs a little and nods a thank you to Reg who is un saddling Peanut. Leading everyone inside to relax until they go out later tonight. Walking into the entrance hall and kicking off his boots all while holding Logan still.

“I thought these were school pictures!” Jackson, or Nado as the team calls him, points to the bunches of framed photos of Leo. “Are these… mugshots!?” He laughs in disbelief. The rest of the team starts to examine the pictures more closely. Some pictures had Leo with bruises or blood, some had him smiling with a middle finger up or peace signs, others had him looking annoyed. His younger one from when he was like 12 -13 years old were of him looking scared or crying.

“Yeah, they are all my mugshots from when I was, I think, 12 to this year. The Sheriff doesn't like us at all, arrests Clay and I for random reasons and even if, like when we were younger we would call the cops because someone vandalized the gate to the ranch and tried to break in. I got arrested for a false call. I was 14 I think. The cops are definitely not afraid to use force with us either… I hope he fucking leaves us alone while y’all are down visiting.” Leo is looking at his first mugshot ever of him sobbing at 12 years old. The week of his birthday, someone threw a rock through a window at a shop and blamed him.

“Is this your sister?” Timmy points to a mugshot of Eloise from last year and Reg bursts out laughing, Clay snorts and Leo looks confused.

“That’s my mom…”

Hours later, the drunk trio had already left for the bar to get a table and to talk to some of their friends they haven’t seen since the beginning of summer. The team was in their little ranch hand house getting ready, the speakers in the house all blaring Fast! By Sueco the Child because they know… they know there will be nothing but yeehaw music to assault and molest their ears tonight.

Thomas was pulling his grey shirt over his head, smoothing the fabric down as Noelle chills in her sweatpants and his t-shirt. People who didn’t want to go out are going over to Clay’s house to learn a bunch of mixed drink recipes and to talk shit. It was mostly the girls who didn’t feel comfortable getting harassed by middle aged men with beer guts, Dumo and Celeste who have become close friends with Judy overnight, and people who didn’t like going out in general. Like Olli, Adam, Timmy, and Sergei.

“We should talk to him.” Thomas sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. Looking at the ceiling all he can think about is how easy they got along with Clay. How his smile and Noelle together made his heart speed up. When they both turned to look at him earlier he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

“I think you need to talk to him first, this is something new for you. To like a man. I- I’m not going to lie the thought of Clay and you separately give me the same feelings, but you two together. It makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever felt. Do you maybe want to talk to Lo or Finn before we talk to Clay? To make sure this isn’t just us… I don’t know, using Clay in a way we don’t mean to?”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea. But when can we get them away from Leo long enough to talk to them?” Looking at his watch and hearing all the thumping down the stairs he gives her one last kiss before standing up and stretching.

“You could try to corner one of them tonight?” She smiles at him and winks at him as he shakes his head. “Have a good time tonight, Babe.”

“You too.” He heads out the bedroom down and down the stairs. He was riding with James and Coops to the Bar but maybe he would try to switch and ride with Finn and Logan.

“Red-ay!” James slings his arm around his shoulders and ruffles his hair. He thinks for a moment, then sees Finn swinging the keys to his rental car on his finger as Logan is on the ground struggling to yank his boots on. He was wearing heavy combat boots to dance around at a ‘Honkey-Tonk’ as Leo calls it. Seems like a bad idea.

“Actually I think I’m gonna tag along with Finn and Logan.” He smiles at James who shrugs and slaps his back before running off. Walking over to Finn, he looks down at Logan and gives Finn an ‘is he serious?’ look.

“He doesn’t want to be called short by all the hot cowboys and these are the tallest shoes he owns.” Sighing he looks back at Logan who is laying flat on the ground out of breath from fighting with his shoes. Reaching out he helps him up. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna ride with you if that's fine.”

“Sounds good, let's go.” Finn skips to the car while Thomas and Logan walk side by side. Getting in the car, Thomas was squished into the backseat. As soon as the doors close he is asking questions.

“How did you guys know?”

“Know what?” Logan looks back at him as Finn starts the car. Thomas looks out his window watching the other cars pull out and start driving towards the gate.

“Know that three was the perfect number for you…” He looks back at them and sees them share a look for a moment, having a silent conversation before Logan climbs into the back with Thomas.

“It took us a long time to figure out, but we knew that Leo was for us because we could barely function as a couple without him. Like we could do it but, it just wouldn’t be the same. There was always something missing after we both started getting feelings for him.” Logan sighs a little. “It's hard to explain but it was like there was always a perfect Leo sized gap wherever we went. Once we both realized we wanted him, and he wanted us… it was a no brainer to ask him to be with us.”

“It’s definitely a feeling of loss when they leave and it's just you two together. So maybe it will cement your feelings when you get away from that person for a while. If they are the main topic of conversation when it's just you and Noelle… maybe three is the perfect number for you as well.” Finn smiles at him as he drives past the gate and follows the google map to the bar.

“What if we have already had time without them and.. We- I don’t know, we want to talk to them but I’m scared because.” He gulps and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Because I’ve never felt this way towards a guy before.” Finn blinks a couple of times and Logan nods, making a noise of understanding.

“ It’s a scary feeling at first, I freaked out for a long time until I finally met Finn. Then I freaked out even more and actually tried to leave the Frat. Then I finally let myself fall and I fell fast and in the stupidest way.” He laughs a little remembering when he realized he was in love with Finn. “Basically Finn had this mini basketball hoop in our dorm room the first year we had to share a room. Second semester I finally gave in to my desire for him. We had sex, honestly it was terrible because neither of us had any fucking clue what we were doing. But after, this bitch!” He starts laughing as Finn starts getting red on the tips of his ears from embarrassment. “He got up after like two minutes of cuddling because he had so much energy and started playing basketball! I was curled up in my duvet watching him with a sore ass, and a stupid smile… That's when I knew he was for me.” Smiling at Finn, just absolutely in love he turns to look at Thomas who is still laughing a little.

“I think I realized I liked… This person after they sent me a video of them playing a harmonica really annoyingly and another person in the car threw it out the window and he pulled another one out of his pocket.” Snickering, he smiles at them. “Thanks for not freaking out on me, Noelle told me to talk to you guys because she also really really likes Clay.” He realizes he just said the name he was trying to avoid and looks at them a little worried.

“It was pretty obvious how she was flirting with him all afternoon, and you just kind of watched and looked like a little puppy following them around.” Logan moves out of the way as Thomas tries to smack his arm and puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry! Sorry! I meant like the big strong manly man you are.” Laughing, Finn pulls into a parking spot in front of the bar and shuts the car off.

Walking into the bar the smell of sweat and beer washed over them, making them scowl for a moment. They spot Reg talking to a blonde girl with a red cowgirl hat on. Leo and Clay are already hustling a game of pool with some people who look about the same age as them. The team made their way to the tab Reg was at and got comfortable. Ordering drinks and listening to music. Leo and Clay stopped by after losing $100 on the pool game. Chatting for a few moments when suddenly a sound like bagpipes came over the speakers.

Thomas watched as Clay's face completely lit up, dragging Leo out onto the dance floor. Everyone got into orderly lines and started stepping and dancing to the song all the same. It was mesmerizing. Thomas would be lying if he said he didn’t watch Clay completely lose himself in the music and didn’t have to take a drink to cure his cottonmouth. Especially when those goldish lights would land on them.

Making them even brighter than before, the lights giving Clay’s skin a bronze glow. When Clay pulled his tank top out of the waistband of his jeans, he choked on his beer. Patting his back Finn was chuckling as he watched Leo dance.

He moved so easily, like it was second nature, the dance didn’t look hard but Finn was known to have two left feet off the ice. The lights were amazing, making Leo’s hair poking out from under his hat look like gold leaf.

He was beautiful.

It was obvious that Leo and Clay were platonic soulmates, they mirrored every move perfectly. They had fun and acted like they were the only ones on the floor and whipping their heads back and forth to the beat of the music made Clay kick Leo by accident and he would just laugh.

Once the song was over Logan, Leo, Sirius, Thomas and Clay all went to smoke outside. Sirius and Thomas were out there to get some fresh air while Logan and Leo traded a cig back and forth. Clay puffed on his own and closed his eyes looking up to the sky. Hearing Footloose come on over the speakers Logan and Leo rushed inside because that was one song Logan actually knew how to dance to.

Leo joined him on the floor and would laugh but catch him anytime he would stumble with his boots. He would end up spinning Logan back into place and singing off key from behind him.

Reg was watching his friends as he spoke with Kuny about the wildly different styles of boots and hats people were wearing when a panicked looking Clayton came up to him. Grabbing his arm and walking towards the one dark lit corner of the bar and kicking a couple who was making out, out of the corner. He turns to Reg. Watching someone behind Reg walk towards the door and leave.

“You alright?”

“Thomas just kissed me…” Looking at him with wide eyes looking so lost, Reg grabs his arm to make sure he doesn’t bolt. “He kissed me and he has a girlfriend Reg! I- I’m not a homewrecker I swear!”

“Whoa whoa, hey Clay. Look at me.” Clay makes eye contact with him and starts to relax. “Thomas isn’t the type of person to just kiss someone out of nowhere, and I bet he is going to tell Noelle right away. It’s okay.”

“But Reg, I really like them… like in the way Leo likes both Logan AND Finn. I don’t want to lose them. I just figured it out the other night. I was never going to act on it because, its pretty fucking rare, but now Thomas did and- and what do I do!”

“How about we go and sit down for a couple of songs? Maybe dancing might help you out because it always seems to relax you. Okay?” Clay nods and follows Reg back to the table, after a few fidgeting moments he goes to the bar and orders a couple of shots and takes them all in a matter of seconds. Taking a deep breath he starts to relax. He feels a familiar hand run from his shoulder to his hip.

Ashley.

“Long time no see, huh.” She smiles a sly smile at him and leans her back on the bar. She was wearing a low spaghetti strap tank top and painted on blue jeans with red boots that look like Clay’s. He swallows a little. She did look good, and he was getting to be just drunk enough to be horny.

“What do you want?” She catches him looking at her boobs and smirks; he flushes red and turns around to also lean his back on the bar, looking out to the dance floor where some of the team has joined Leo in dancing to Hillbilly Bone by Trace Adkins. He looked at the table and noticed Reg staring directly at him.

“I just wanted to say hi, looks like you’ve really been taking care of yourself.” She feels his arm that he unintentionally flexes and she squeezes his muscle. He looks at Reg one last time, making his decision, he looks back at her and nods towards the door.

He leaves with her.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Reg watches him leave. Absolutely shocked. He gets up from the table and walks onto the floor, walking over to Leo he taps his shoulder. Leaning down so Reg can talk into his ear, Reg tells Leo exactly what happened.

Looking up and around the bar he can’t spot Clay anywhere, he excuses himself from the group and walks outside with Reg. Seeing Clay’s truck is still there they walk over to it and knock on the window before looking in. Empty. They left.

“Fuck. I’m texting Judy.” Leo does exactly that.

Leo, having taken a few drinks to calm down, lets himself relax. He was at a bar with his friends and boyfriends, he could have a little bit of fun. They all decided they were leaving in an hour anyway.

So when Fishing in the dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band starts he grabs Finn and pulls him close swaying to the beat of the music as he mumbles the words into his neck, still stressing about Clay leaving like that. Holding Finn as close to him as he could he let himself just forget about anything but the man in direct contact with his body.

Once the song had finished he stood there still holding Finn for an extra couple of moments, letting Finn kiss the top of his head, his hat being on Logan’s head who was sitting at the table because his feet hurt. They eventually pull apart and start back towards the table.

“Oh fucking Christ!” Leo sighs as he notices who has taken his chair at the table. Ashley’s brother and the Sheriff’s son. David. He walks over and stands next to the chair. “What the hell are you doing over here?”

“I’m socializing with some new people, you didn’t bring them. Why would they want anything to do with you?” He laughs and his lackeys on the other side of the chair also laugh and slap his shoulder.

“Actually they did come here with me.” He crosses his arms and the rest of the team is looking a little uncomfortable and confused. “So if you and your shithead friends would oh so kindly leave. I would appreciate it.” Narrowing his eyes David stands up in a way that is sizing Leo up. Leo raises an unimpressed brow because David is a good five inches shorter than him and a scrawny man.

“Do they know you’re a fucking faggot? That you’re a cockslut? A fairy?”

“Why do you think we are here?” James pipes up and the three idiots across the table look at him in shock.

“You’re a whore, I could never!” David looking back at Leo and jabbing a finger in his chest. Looking David up and down slowly with a cringed face he nods.

“Yeah, you couldn’t. Now, I believe I asked y'all to leave.” Leo points with his thumb behind him.

“You’re dad would be so proud.” Leo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and aggressively pulls him closer to him with a look of pure fury on his face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said. you’re disgusting dad-” Leo is pulled away from David by Sirius.

“At least my dad wasn’t a murder!”

“AT LEAST MY DAD DIDN’T KILL HIMSELF!” Leo stops fighting against Sirius’ grip and calmly gets away from him, storming out the doors, kicking them open and walking towards his truck. Kicking rocks up and trying his best to hold himself together. Getting into his truck he slams the door and grips the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against the hot plastic and squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can.

Minutes later Finn and Logan crawl into the truck in silence. Leo goes to apologize but they hush him and just give him understanding smiles and both of them cup one of his cheeks. He was so close to crying but he just couldn’t. Not in front of them, the people who are supposed to see him at his best.

Once they get home everyone goes to their rooms and Leo walks down behind the barn to the pond.

He spends the night by himself under his dad’s tree.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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inncubus-honey · 3 years

Text

General Ennoshita dating HC

Sorry it’s been a while, school work is kicking my ass and atm I’m out of town visiting family. but I’m working on something with yams and I have other ideas; anyway I hope y’all enjoy Ennoshita cause I love my underrated boi. also sorry about this being all over the place

Word Count: 1174

Ennoshita x gn!reader

yall meet as first years when Noya and Tanaka accidently knocked you over in the hallway as they ran to vbc

Ennoshita was close behind them as he helped you up and made the boys apologize for knocking you over

y'all talked for about 6 months, going on small dates, going to his volleyball games, hanging out with Noya, Tanaka, Kinoshita and Nartia and all that cute stuff

he officially asked you after practice one afternoon. Ennoshita offered to walk you home as you just got done with your own club activities and he saw you waiting by the gate.

yall were coming up on your block as the sun was setting. He turned to look at you as you were painted in the warm colors of the sunset with a content look on your face as you guys shared a look.

Ennoshita just felt fuzzy in his heart as the words left his mouth before he could think.

"I like you...do you wanna be together?"

*cue Ennoshita wanting to get hit with a volleyball in the face for fucking up*

"yeah, i've actually liked you for a long time too."

"IM SO SORRY FOR-" *cue surprised pikachu face*

he was this | | close to running away from embarrassment but once it registered that you said yes, he was like (0 \\\\ 0) oh shit

"really? Im so...happy" he picks you up in a warm hug, spinning you guys around until yall fell on the grass.

Laughing surrounded yall as you laid in the grass, Ennoshita hovered over you as he watched giggle with all your soul in it.

Your eyes sparkling with pure glee, hair surrounding your face like a halo. For once, Ennoshita was glad he didn't run away.

Anyway, fast forward to 2nd year and yall have been dating for 2 1/2 years. now let's get onto the general hcs ٩( ᐛ )و

You try to show up to every practice, but you have your own club activities to worry about which Ennoshita understands and supports you all the way.

Over the course of dating, you've gotten to know how chaotic the often forgotten second years were along with Noya and Tanaka.

but no one really knows the level they can get to when alone, but you, Noya, and Tanaka do.

Everyone thinks those three are really responsible and mature. WRONG.

Ennoshita one time accidentally drank Saeko's four loko, thinking it just some kind of energy drink, at Tanaka's house and y'all had to deal with Ennoshita rambling about the downfall of star wars by not including jar jar binks more at 3am as the rest of y'all lost your shit.

Noya and you recorded the whole thing and love to tease him about.

while Kinoshita once took y'all to do some graffiti on some random building at midnight and Nartia loves rage rooms.

anyway, Ennoshita loves to tease the shit out of you when alone. He loves to run his hands over your hips and the dip of your back

then he'll nibble on your neck and other stuff like that then when he'll stop and just give you a shit eating grin

while your sitting now, annoyed and horny

His favorite places to take you on dates are picnics, 12am trips to random stores like the dollar tree or going to the fox, bunny and cat island near Japan.

for y'alls first year anniversary he woke you up at 12am on the date, drove to an open restaurant and got food then drove about 5 hours to the closest beach where y'all ate and waited for sunrise where Ennoshita pulled out a photo album of all your memories.

He used cute stickers, colorful papers and wrote down the dates and his favorite thing from that date. you did cry happy tears from his wonderful gift.

you got him a custom gear shift for his cool jdm car that he spent 6 months working on. it was a clear hard plastic one with the dried up flowers from he got you on your first date.

Ennoshita would have a jdm car and you can't tell me otherwise. He loves to see peoples shocked faces from seeing how 'plain' and 'boring' he seems to the badass car he drives.

the interior of his car would be red and black leather OR like a 1950s car with tan and white leather with a slick thin steering wheel and leds on the roof of his car.

anyway, more about dating. sorry i got carried away ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

He loves to show you off in public when on dates, sometimes he'll catch the eyes of random guys and just bring you into a kiss or pull you into his hold by the waist to show that youre his.

when you do have a chance to go to a game, you'll cheer for the boys, but also the second years on the sidelines. You do wear his extra jersey at the games and Ennoshita blushes every time he sees you cheering for him even tho he doesnt play.

he also loves railing you in said jersey

he loves to take secret photos of you like you doing stuff from the bathroom, looking at something lost in thought, taking sip or a bit of food and other times like that. he has a folder on his phone for those photos

occasionally he'll send one to the seconds group chat and unknowingly hype the SHIT out of you in said group chat all the guys are just 'fuck yeah!! get it ennoshita!!' and 'i'm looking respectively', especially Noya and Tanaka, they love hyping you up for their home boy

uponing leaving high school, Ennoshita got y'all promise rings. you each had simple thin bands as they weren't too expensive and flashy.

yours had a quote on the inside, 'the moon and I are proud of you'. this is because whenever you felt insecure, depressed, or just not good enough, Ennoshita would take you outside under the blanket of night. Underneath the gleaming stars and moon, he would cup your magnificent face, kiss your nose, cheeks and finally lips.

he would point towards the moon and say, 'the moon and I are proud of you for doing your hardest job at this moment.' but he couldn't fit the whole thing on a tiny ring, so he went with the simple, 'the moon and I are proud of you'

overall; Ennoshita would learn about himself and how to care for someone else as much as you would. He would love to simple moments as much as the stupid and crazy ones; he would grow to hate the silence without you there doing your own thing with him.

he'll hug for no reason, kiss randomly on any part he can reach in the moment. but also throw you onto his bed then tackle you and get a tickle session out of it.

Ennoshita would be everything for you and you to him.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #hq ennoshita #ennoshita x reader #ennoshita hcs #honey_writings

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Absolute Penn

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: T Word Count: 1429

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Beth remembers her mother's words about holiday travel and spontaneously departs for New York City.

She hasn’t experienced a crush of human bodies like this since she was mobbed by elderly Russian men at a chess park. Thankfully, here, everyone is just passing through and their determination to navigate the crowd secures her anonymity. Nobody wants to shake her hand—they don’t even notice her. So many people are coughing and sniffling. Although it’s hot and she’s been regretting putting her heavy coat back on since the instant she stepped off the train, Beth tucks her face into the woolen collar to breathe more private, hopefully less germ-laden, air.

The suitcase in her hand collides with her own knees and those of what feels like hundreds of others as she weaves with the masses to escape the platform and stride down the comparative spaciousness of the concourse. She could’ve flown. She should’ve flown. Why didn’t she fly? Beth tries to recall her reasoning as she cranes her neck to hunt for signs, something to tell her how to get out of here. Which way to the damn fresh air?

Right, right, right, because New York to Moscow (and the reverse) was a hellishly long trip and she hasn’t wanted to board a plane since. Planes are lonely things, without her mother sipping a Gibson and drawing her out of her thoughts every once in a while. Beth didn’t seek out a travel companion on the train that brought her to Penn Station either, but she had the landscape to watch as her passenger car shuddered northeast, not just sky. She’s seen an awful lot of sky in her life. Clouds are ghoulishly repetitive. Déjà fucking vu for the entire duration of an overcast flight.

Unfortunately, the train journey isn’t paying off in all the ways she anticipated. Alma’s assertion some years prior about the ease of traveling on Christmas is being disproven. Viciously. It’s either because Beth took the train on Christmas Eve, thereby missing the golden travel window by a day, or this station doesn’t ever take a break from… this. She has nothing to compare it to; the last time she was in New York (the only time), she arrived by car. Benny’s car. And she has a good memory of inquiringly ruffling the parking tickets accumulated on his windshield as he shrugged it off—that’s what stopped her from driving.

Beth finds a bathroom and traps her suitcase between her feet as she splashes cold water on her face and the back of her neck. She’ll recommit herself to the task of finding an escape in a minute, but now that she’s here, well, her competence is withdrawing inside herself and her nerves about the next part are rising. Where the competence was a hard shell—the ability to ask clearly and firmly for directions while wearing an invulnerable expression—the nerves are sweat and vapour. They rise and pass through her skin, leaving her damp, insubstantial. She didn’t tell Benny she’d be coming.

They’ve spoken. They’ve called and even narrowly missed one another in person when they both decided to drop in on the same tournament (to see friends, not to play) hours apart. After Moscow last winter, coming to New York to visit him felt like too grand a gesture. Of course, now she’s come anyway, and on Christmas Eve, which really can’t be categorized as less subtle. She obviously should’ve just done it right away. Waiting has led to something dramatic and undisguisably meaningful. Fuck. Beth snatches her suitcase off the floor and pushes back out into the swarm of travelers.

Even the oxygen seems harried. People jog and dodge and she can’t tell who’s trying to catch their train versus who’s just arrived in the city. At first glance, there’s an equal panic over everyone. But she starts to notice others: couples in love with the hands not holding luggage clasping each other’s; a group of young women, a little younger than her, maybe, wearing nice shoes and satiny skirts beneath their coats, red-cheeked and probably on their way to a Christmas party; children, too dizzied by the flurry to be cranky with the parents dragging them along by their mittened hands. Beth remembers her mother, Alice. She remembers her own sullen face in the bathroom mirror at Methuen, wishes she could take that girl’s hand and tug, bringing her into this moment, the two of them gliding amongst the trundling hoard, out into the snow she saw from the train window. The sun set on the way and the stuff sprinkled down throughout. She’s going to step outside into a city that looks like a postcard, and that’s what propels Beth up and out. Almost out.

He’s standing at the ticket counter.

“That much? Did I walk into Penn Station or NASA? I said Kentucky, not the Moon. You can’t tell me Kentucky’s a popular destination. Who the hell wants to go to Kentucky for Christmas? Until Irving Berlin writes a song about it, nobody, that’s who. Nobody but me. Bullshit, fifty-three dollars. How ‘bout… twenty?”

Benny’s attempting to negotiate on his train fare. This is so funny that Beth can temporarily compartmentalize that he’s buying a ticket. A ticket to Kentucky, from what she’s overheard. Smirking, she strolls over.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she says lightly, eyeing the way he’s shaking a twenty-dollar bill at the impassive ticket seller. His hand slaps to the counter as he twists to stare at her in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

She laughs and feels her cheeks flush from the naked longing on his face.

“I live alone, it’s Christmas Eve, I thought New York would be pretty, and, oh yeah, you’re here. Don’t tell me you’ve already promised the air mattress to someone else.”

Really, she’s impressed that he takes the time to shake his head as he reaches for her after slipping the money away, framing her face in his hands. Cold hands—a relief against her skin. He holds the pose and someone turns the volume down on the rest of the world. The noise of the station dims around them. Beth has time to lift her eyes to the snowflakes glittering as they melt on the brim of Benny’s hat. Then, she’s letting her lids fall as he slants his head and presses his mouth to hers with an intense finality. She’s convinced that she was always meeting him at the station, that the trip was agreed upon and not a snap decision she made after decorating her small tree with the glass ornaments she resurrected from the attic storage, neatly packed away by Alma each January, and realizing she didn’t have to miss him.

Maybe they’re unalike, or were; he was willing to miss her and she tossed god-knows-what into her suitcase and caught the next train that would bring her here. It could be temperament, or strategy, something in him that says wait while her internal voice says act. What she knows it’s not is a gaping disparity in feeling because they kiss with equal fervour. Benny’s face grows warm against hers and she shivers when his chilly fingertips curl around to the back of her neck.

Slowly, she recognizes that the ticket seller is asking them to move aside; their display is blocking the counter. She’s smiling when her lips part and her eyes open. He looks smug as he pries the suitcase from her hand and they shuffle out of line.

“Why, hello, Benny,” she says.

“Why, hello, Beth. Left it a little late, didn’t you?”

“Me? At least I’m not just now getting in line to buy a ticket. Why didn’t you drive?”

“My car’s not the best in the snow. Or the ice. Or even the slush, really.”

“Sounds unsafe.”

“Oh, it is,” Benny agrees. His mouth hangs open for a second before his next words fill it in a rush, “Like the air mattress.”

Beth frowns.

“What’s wrong with the air mattress?”

“Very hazardous. Yeah, it’s, uh, made of some kind of toxic plastic. Any air that leaks out carries harmful gases.”

Playing along, she says, “Don’t worry. I don’t remember it ever deflating on me before.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, “but it’s been folded up awhile now. I don’t trust the seams. I think you’d better not sleep on it, just to be safe.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

Benny grins.

“I’d never let you wake up Christmas morning on the floor, Harmon. Think better of me.”

He squeezes her shoulder and steers her out into the frosty New York night.

#in honour of the first time I've had to shovel snow this season: a Warmon holiday fic #my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Month of Miracles Day 5 - Decoration

Find the prompt list here!

I have meddled with powers I did not fully understand and now the Hallmark AU has gripped me. I think you can expect to see more of this sprinkled throughout the month. Oh, well. Multiparters in prompt months are like a tradition for me now, right?

Hallmark Movie AU

Imagine, Marinette thought as she helped Rose unpack the decorations and ornaments to go on the tree, Luke Stone in a town like this.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard of him releasing anything new recently. So he was from this town, then? He must be on vacation, visiting his family and helping out at the farm. Taking a break, maybe writing some new songs. Funny, to think of the glammed up, heavily bedazzled rock star wearing flannel and working on a Christmas tree farm.

Marinette had winced the day before, watching him tear up his palms hauling the tree she’d picked out yesterday and tie it down deftly with fingers that had to be worth millions of dollars. It pained her to think of the hands that had created such beautiful music being abused in such a way. Surely he should have been wearing gloves, at least. He’d been so cold to her, though, that Marinette hadn’t dared suggest it or question him.

She’d been skeptical when Jagged Stone’s son had made his debut on tour alongside his father. She’d been a longtime fan of the older Stone and didn’t think even his own flesh and blood would be able to match him—but the younger Stone hadn’t tried. Luke’s music was clearly influenced by his father, but was also entirely his own, but so evocative, so emotional, she had been pulled in despite her reservations. She owned every one of Luke Stone’s albums, including the special edition greatest hits album, which she had bought even as she complained to Alya that he was too young in his career to be releasing a greatest hits album.

Marinette hadn’t said much to Rose about the encounter, not sure whether it was common knowledge amongst the town that he was here, and not wanting to infringe on his privacy if it wasn’t. Rose had given her a funny (disappointed?) look when she mentioned the grumpy young man that had helped her, but hadn’t said anything about it, just asked Marinette to come back today and give her a hand decorating the tree after the maintenance staff got it set up.

It wasn’t as if Marinette had much else to do, and Gina’s house felt huge and empty with just her in it, so she’d agreed, and here she was unpacking dusty boxes that had been hauled out of storage. She sighed as she surveyed the contents. The boxes looked like they’d been packed up by unsupervised five-year-olds last year.

She was sorting the decorations into piles, still absently pondering the mystery of Luke Stone, when the library doors slid open, and the man himself walked in. He was dressed much the same as he had been yesterday, in layers that hid the muscular shoulders and arms he displayed on stage. Before Marinette could react, Rose flitted past her.

“Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing herself at him. “You’re here!” Luka staggered slightly but wrapped one arm around her waist to catch her, holding her with her feet dangling off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks, her arms wrapped around his neck. Marinette stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

“That was enthusiastic,” Luka laughed, looking down at the petite blond hanging off of his tall frame.

“I’m happy to see you!” Rose smiled brightly.

“You just saw me at dinner last night.” Luka bent his knees and set her on the ground. Rose took the hint and let him go, but bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I told you I’d come, he added.”

“And now you’re here!” Rose threw out her arms. “I’m so glad! I have so much to do to get the childrens’ program ready and the decorations are so much for poor Marinette to manage by herself! Have you met Marinette?” she inquired, turning and holding out her arms to present her friend. Marinette closed her mouth and tried to smile as she gave a little wave. “I think you did,” Rose continued, turning to give him a warning look. “I think she said she ran into you at the farm.”

Luka felt embarrassment creeping up his neck at Rose’s clearly scolding look. He nodded at Marinette. “Briefly, yeah. Nice to see you, Marinette.” He pronounced her name carefully, feeling bad about teasing her yesterday. She smiled a little more, and then looked down, her hands fluttering around the decorations she’d been separating.

“You can get the lights on the tree while Marinette finishes working out that stuff,” Rose suggested, pointing to a pile of lights sitting near Marinette. “You’re nice and tall, so that should make things easy. There’s step stools in the kids’ area if you need them. Come here and I’ll show you what I want.” She hooked his arm and pulled him around to the far side of the tree. “The plug’s over here, so you’ll need to start on this side.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Rose slapped his arm. “Dummy!” she scolded in a whisper. “I didn’t send her to the farm so you could be mean.”

“I wasn’t mean,” Luka protested weakly, and then frowned. “What do you mean, you sent her?” He gave his not-quite-sister a suspicious look, and then leaned slightly to look around the tree and make sure they were out of earshot.

He paused. Marinette had been cute yesterday in her puffy pink coat and earmuffs, but he hadn’t really had time to notice her. Now she looked trendy but comfortable in pigtails and a soft pink sweater over skinny jeans, her profile turned to him. She was an authentic kind of pretty, he reflected, but then Luka had found himself thinking that about a lot of people since he’d left the rock star world, where everybody wore layers of stage makeup, styled and coiffed and dressed so that every detail about them enhanced the image they wanted to project.

Still, her full lips made a pretty bow, especially when she pouted them slightly in concentration, and her hair had a shine that came from health rather than product, and her eyes were—

Rose’s elbow in his ribs jolted him out of what must have been a pretty intense stare, and he flushed, leaning back slightly so he couldn’t see Marinette on the other side of the tree.

“She already thinks you’re mean,” Rose hissed. “Don’t be a creep on top of it.”

Luka winced. He didn’t need Rose’s reminder to feel guilty for behaving so abruptly yesterday. Already prickly from a morning of needling by his mother, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to recognize him. No one had up until this point, and he’d thought he was safe. It was an unpleasant shock to have a stranger recognize him, especially someone from the city who might carry word of his presence here back to the press. His mother’s call had sounded like his guardian angel’s trumpet in that moment. When Juleka had called him to help tie her chosen tree on top of her car, he’d done the work quickly and silently, and avoided her gaze as much as possible.

He’d felt bad about it later, when he’d had time to relax and reflect, but he hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly hadn’t expected to have Rose practically throwing her at him. He gave her a warning look.

Rose opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Marinette popped around the side of the tree. “Rose, do you have some scissors anywhere?”

“Yes, in the cabinet behind the desk,” Rose said, pointing. “Probably on the top three shelves, there’s a box of craft supplies there. You might as well bring over the whole thing in case you need anything else. Let me know if it’s too high up and I’ll send Luka to grab them instead.”

“Got it,” Marinette smiled, and turned to follow Rose’s directions.

Luka shot Rose a glare. “Quit it,” he warned.

“Quit what?” Rose inquired, with a blink and head tilt that made her look like she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together.

Luka knew better.

“I don’t need any help, Rose,” Luka muttered, folding his arms. “I could find a relationship on my own if I wanted to.”

“Mmhm,” Rose hummed in a disbelieving tone. “Because there’s so many to choose from here in this little town.”

Luka rolled his eyes and didn’t reply.

“I do like Marinette though,” Rose said, and smiled innocently when Luka gave her a look. “She’s really sweet. We only met a couple of days ago and here she is, bending over backward to get me a real tree and spending her time decorating it.”

“You set her up,” Luka accused, peeking around the tree briefly to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet. “You’re trying to set me up.”

“She’s so creative,” Rose sighed. “She showed me some of her portfolio the other day, and it’s fantastic. She’s a fashion designer, you see.”

Luka snorted. “Oh, yeah, she’ll totally fall for me. Without my stylist I’m a fashion disaster and you know it Rose.”

“That just makes you a challenge,” Rose chirped, and then softened a little as she looked at him. “Look, I know you’re not looking right now, but that’s a stupid attitude to have when an amazing person just drops into your lap.” She tossed her head in a move he was sure she’d picked up from Juleka, though it was less effective without Juleka’s mane to accent it. “I should know. Anyway, do what you want, I just think she’s neat and I wanted you to meet her. I’ve got a good feeling about her. If I’d met her two years ago I’d totally steal her from you. If you’re smart, you’ll keep an open mind.”

Luka sighed, but he saw a flicker of pink and when he glanced around the tree again, Marinette was back, the box of supplies at her side. She was lifting a large tinsel garland from the box she’d just opened, only to find it was all a tangled mass. There was a sort of mournful look on her face, a little droop of sadness, maybe even loneliness, to her shoulders. He remembered the tightness in her eyes and around her mouth yesterday, and the way she’d spilled out her reason for being here at the slightest nudge. A fashion designer—that was a cutthroat business, especially in the city. Poor thing was probably as tired and strung out as he’d been when he came home.

He wasn’t even aware he’d sighed until Rose giggled at his elbow. “I think you can figure the lights out on your own,” she said with a little pat to his arm. “I’m going to get back to getting ready for the children’s program. You two just...have fun, okay? Make it festive!” She fluttered her hands at the tree, then waved at Marinette and abandoned him to the awkwardness.

It didn’t take long to get the lights on the tree—Luka had plenty of practice after getting the farm set up for the season. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He glanced at Marinette. She had finished the sorting and was back to struggling with the tangled garland, and the look of utter defeat on her face...hurt, somehow.

“Can I give you a hand?” Luka found himself offering.

Marinette started slightly, and in an instant her shoulders went back and her smile flashed back into being. Luka was surprised to realize that it didn’t feel fake, despite the fact that he had seen her feelings on her face just a moment before. She was hiding those feelings now, but the smile she offered him was as sincere as the sadness.

“Um, sure, if you want to,” she said, holding up the garland in two hands. “It’s pretty twisted up. We could just leave it, but...might as well give it a shot, right?”

Luka took a handful of garland, and Marinette took another one farther down. They moved apart, spreading it out as far as it could go between them to try and see where it twisted back on itself.

“This looks like the end,” Marinette muttered, plucking at a piece. “Can you just hold it up for a minute?”

Luka did, watching Marinette as she looped the end she’d found back over and under and through the glittering mass. The silence was awkward, and the more Luka tried to think of something to say, the more he felt like there was only one thing he could say.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize—” he began as Marinette said, “Luka, I’m really sorry—”

They both stopped, and laughed, and Luka gestured for her to go ahead.

“I just,” Marinette pushed her hair back and glanced at him, then looked away. “I wanted to apologize for blurting that out about—you know—I should have thought, I should have realized you wouldn’t want to be approached like that, while you’re clearly not working—well, you were working, but not, not like that and I should have—well. I’m really sorry. You’re at home and you probably don’t want people gushing all over you while you’re trying to spend time with your family.”

Luka took a breath, looking at the floor for a moment. “I wanted to apologize too, for being so abrupt with you. I...hadn’t had the best morning, and you did startle me. I’m...well, I guess you could maybe say I’m retired, and I’d rather not be...known, here. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Retired?” Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “But your music was so good! I mean—” She flushed, and grabbed the garland, moving to start draping it around the tree. “I really liked it, anyway. Sorry, I know it’s not my business...Anyway, I understand, and I won’t tell anyone I met you here.” The garland she was trying to place slipped off, and she sighed in frustration. “I swear Christmas hates me,” she muttered to herself.

Luka picked up the trailing end and held it so that the weight was no longer dragging. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and then she said, “How long have you and Rose been together?” This time the garland stayed where she placed it, with Luka feeding her more as she circled around the tree.

“Together?” Luka repeated, startled. “We’re not together. She’s dating my sister, actually. In fact if they’re not engaged by New Years I’ll be shocked.”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at him. “O-oh. Oh! Oh, I understand now.” She flushed. “Just, before—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Luka grinned. “I can see how that would look if you didn’t know.”

“Wow, how off base was I, though,” Marinette giggled. “So your family’s from around here? I—oh, that sounded nosy didn’t it, I’m sorry, I swear I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Luka chuckled. “Actually my family just moved here a few years ago. When my mom bought the tree farm I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims and she’d move on to something else before long, but she seems really happy here. What about your grandma? Gina doesn’t seem like the small town type, either.”

The conversation flowed comfortably from there, as they finished the garland and moved on to the other decorations. Marinette didn’t ask him any more questions about his music, and he carefully steered clear of asking her any questions about why she’d come—or been sent—down to their little town, and faster than Luka could have expected, they were closing up the empty boxes and stacking them to the side to be returned to storage. Marinette had a good eye, Luka had to admit as he looked at the tree. Not surprising, he supposed, but it did look a lot nicer than the previous year’s tree. Not only that, Marinette had arranged the extra decorations on the library desk in a pretty little display, and with his help, had even trimmed the windows with some icicle lights they found at the bottom of one of the boxes. Luka knelt to plug in the last set of lights, and when they were on, the whole library screamed holiday cheer to an almost obnoxious degree.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Rose appeared behind him.

“Wow, look at this place, it’s awesome! Everything looks great! You two make a fantastic team!” She grinned at Luka, and he raised his eyebrows at her in warning. “Everything is so festive,” Rose went on, clearly ignoring him, as she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips and examined them, “except for you two. You’re ruining the mood.”

Faster than Luka could track she whipped something out and stuck it to his forehead, then turned and did the same to Marinette. Only when he saw the bright blue gift bow stuck to Marinette’s forehead did he realize what Rose had just done to them, and he rolled his eyes as he reached up to touch the bow on his own forehead. Rose swatted his hand away and then grabbed his arm, hauling at him until he had no choice but to stand up or fall over.

“There, now you’re properly decorated too,” Rose beamed. “All right, you two have spent all morning helping me, so get out of here and go do something fun! It’s such a pretty day!”

“Rose, it’s freezing,” Luka tried to say, but Rose was already pushing them towards the door, and he gave into the inevitability of it all with a sigh.

“Go down to the café, have lunch on my tab, both of you,” she ordered, dumping their coats in Luka’s arms before shoving them out of the door. “Thanks for all your help!” she called, waving at them as the doors slid closed.

“Real subtle,” Luka grumbled, reaching up to peel the bow off his forehead as he turned to face Marinette. That was a mistake, because the way her mouth was pursed in a little moue as she worked to remove her own bow was kind of adorable.

Damnit, Rose.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #hallmark au #is that even a thing lol #it is now #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #quickfic #promptfic

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

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Home Sweet Home

Prompt: house hunting

“Bits, did you have anything special planned for today?”

Jack sat at the island, the remains of his peanut butter toast and protein shake pushed to the side while he tapped at his laptop keyboard.

“Special? No,” Bitty said, staring at the coffee maker like he was willing it to brew faster. “I wanted to go to the market, and there’s a couple of new recipes I want to try out for my vlog. But nothing important. Why?”

Bitty arched an eyebrow at Jack.

“Now that you’re all sweaty from your run, did you want to go back to bed?”

“Tempting,” Jack said, “but --”

“But if you want to do that, you’re in charge of changing the sheets later,” Bitty said.

“Fine,” Jack said. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Okay?”

“You know my birthday’s next week,” Jack said.

“Of course,” Bitty said. “We’re having a party, remember? You’re going to grill, I’m doing desserts and sides, your parents are coming down … ”

“I know,” Jack said. “Remember when you were asking what I wanted for a gift?”

“DId you come up with something?” Bitty said. “Because I have been thinking on it, and I’m drawing a blank. When you want something, you usually buy it, and that makes gift-giving a little difficult.”

“I want a house.”

“What?”

“I want a house. We’ve had this condo for four years, and it’s nice, but I have four more years on my contract,” Jack said. “We’ll be here a while. And I think this is going to be home for us. Providence, I mean. So, yeah, I want a house.”

“Jack,” Bitty said, finally turning completely away from the coffee maker, “I can’t buy you a house. I mean, things are going pretty well for me, and the new book is out in a couple of months, but …”

“Of course you can,” Jack said. “We can afford a house.”

“You can afford a house,” Bitty said.

“We can,” Jack said. “Community property, remember? We share a bank account.”

“But that’s just the checking account,” Bitty said. “For like, groceries and utility bills. And sure, maybe I spend a little too much on clothes and baking supplies. And I know you can afford a house, but how is that a present from me to you?”

“Because I want you to do it with me?” Jack said. ”I want to pick a place out together, and to decorate it -- well, mostly for you to decorate it -- and I want it to be our home. I want there to be space for us to have guests, and for us maybe to have kids one day. I’m going to be thirty years old, Bits. I want to live like a grownup.”

Bitty looked pointedly around the condo, from the kitchen with its matching dish towels and oven mitts to the painting over the sofa and the plants in the corner.

“This … is not living like a grown-up?” Bitty said. “Going to bed at eleven and up by seven for a run, even on Sunday?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack said. “I just thought that, maybe it’s time for some more space? We can get you a bigger kitchen.”

“Fine,” Bitty said. “But because it’s something you want. You are not buying me a house for your birthday. What did you want to do about it today? Because don’t we need to, like, find an agent and everything?”

“I guess,” Jack said. “Maybe once we know what we want? I found a few open houses we can check out. Look.”

Bitty pulled a stool closer and turned the laptop towards him. Jack watched his eyes as he read, looked at pictures, scrolled down and read and looked again.

“Jack, those houses are all over a million dollars,” Bitty finally said, looking a little pale.

“I know,” Jack said. “But they’re nice. And did you see the kitchen in the one on the water in Cranston?”

“The one that’s over $2 million?” Bitty said. “We could build a big house that’s half kitchen for half that much.”

Jack shrugged.

“Probably not in that location. It’s a quick commute to the arena and the training facility. But if you want to buy property to build something, we might have to go further out,” Jack said. “Would you rather do that?”

“Build a house?” Bitty said. “Jack, I don’t know the first thing about building a house, and neither do you.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking we’d build it ourselves,” Jack said. “We’d hire someone. Unless you want to bake a house.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, we are not living in a gingerbread house.”

“But do you want to go to these open houses?” Jack said. “Get an idea of what we want and what’s available? For my birthday?”

Jack tried to do that thing Bitty did to him, where he looked up with huge, pleading eyes, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a demented seal instead of a cute puppy.

Bitty probably thought so too, but he laughed and said, “Fine. The farmer’s market opens in fifteen minutes. Let me go before all the good stuff is gone and then we can go look at houses.”

There must have been a lot of good stuff, because it was nearly noon by the time Bitty was back and had the shopping stowed. Then he had to shower and change. (“I need to look like a potential homebuyer, Jack, not a grocery shopper!” “What’s the difference?” Apparently, in Bitty’s mind, homebuyers dressed like they were going to casual office jobs. Except with khaki shorts instead of trousers because it was nearly 34 degrees outside.)

“Come on, Bits, I don’t want to be late!” Jack said.

“What, you’re afraid all the good houses will be gone?” Bitty asked. “I mean, is there seriously one house you have your heart set on? Because otherwise, I don’t think we have to worry. We’re just going to get an idea of what’s out there today, right?”

“Right,” Jack said.

As soon as they were in the car, he headed for Cranston. There were several places in that area that had open houses, including the place on the river. Two and a quarter million -- more than that even -- was a lot, more than Jack had ever spent on anything in his life, but he had the money. They had the money.

All it would take would be a call to his people. Well, to his lawyer, the one he counted on for everything except contract negotiations. Shelby would call his financial people and take care of everything.

The house was … a lot. Bitty did like the kitchen, especially the double oven and what looked like acres of counter space. There was an island with a breakfast bar where they could eat and where Jack could sit to watch Bitty bake, and look out the windows and over the deck to the water.

“My husband does video segments about baking and writes cookbooks,” Jack told Aila, the listing agent. “So the kitchen is really important.”

The master bedroom wasn’t huge, but neither he nor Bitty were the type to loll in bed all day. And there was a guest house where the parents could stay when they visited.

“The property can be sold without the guesthouse,” Aila said as she not-so-helpfully followed them from room to room. There were no other lookers at the moment, so it made sense, but Jack would have preferred a bit more privacy. That would have helped him sell Bitty on the place himself.

“No, if we bought it we’d want the guesthouse,” Jack assured her.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too … I dunno, grand? For us,” Bitty said, looking down from the second floor landing.

“My parents’ place is bigger,” Jack said. “You seem comfortable enough there.”

“Now we’re competing with a movie star and a hockey legend?” Bitty said. “We’ve never owned a house before.”

“Can we walk around outside?” Jack said, steering Bitty toward the French doors that led off the dining room.

“Of course,” Aila said. “You’ll notice the sophisticated multi-level outdoor living space!”

“What does that even mean?” Bitty muttered, before trudging across the deck and into the grass to look back at the house.

He came back to Jack and said, “Let’s go. This isn’t the place for us.”

“What?”

“Unless you were sure you wanted this house specifically?”

“No. But --”

“Then let’s keep looking,” Bitty said.

“It’s like you saw a ghost,” Jack said. “Is it haunted?”

“Might as well be,” Bitty said.

“What?”

“We can’t move here,” Bitty said. “It’s not big enough.”

“A four-bedroom five-bathroom house with an in-ground pool and separate coach house isn’t big enough?”

Jack knew he sounded incredulous. He was incredulous. The house Bitty’s parents lived in -- the house Bitty had lived in as a high school student -- had four bedrooms, sure, but it was about half the size of this place. Without the coach house. And it only had two bathrooms.

Besides, Bitty usually opted for practicality over ostentation. The only really expensive things he seemed to covet were kitchen appliances.

“All that building?” Bitty said. “On a lot that’s just over a half-acre? Where would we put the rink?”

“What rink?”

“The outdoor rink that you want to build in the backyard for little Johnny or Sally to learn to skate on,” Bitty said. “So they can skate and come in for lunch and go right back outside.”

“We don’t have to have a rink,” Jack said.

“No, we don’t have to,” Bitty said. “But when you talk about when you were little, you talk about skating with your dad all the time. And you get this little smile, like just thinking about it makes you happy.”

“Maybe our kids won’t even like skating,” Jack said.

“But you still will,” Bitty said. “So if you don’t absolutely love this place already, let’s move on.”

“But the kitchen is so great,” Jack said. “Did you see the breakfast bar?”

“We can remodel the kitchen in another house if we want to,” Bitty said. “But we can’t magically make more property here. Do you have other places to visit?”

“There’s a list,” Jack said.

From Cranston they headed south to Barrington, where Jack had seen a few open houses advertised. One house was too small (despite four bedrooms and three bathrooms) and one Bitty ruled out immediately (“I know it’s on the water and it’s beautiful, but $1.35 million for a place with no air conditioning?”). Bitty made the same complaint about an 1894 six-bedroom house on the market for just under a million, but turned down a house a hundred years newer (with central air) because it was part of a suburban development and didn’t have a big enough yard oir mature trees.

When they got home, Bitty started pulling out ingredients for a strawberry rhubarb pie.

“I thought you had some new recipes to try,” Jack said.

“I do,” Bitty said. “But right now seems like a good time for comfort food.”

“Can we make a list of what we want in a house?” Jack said. “What’s important and what’s negotiable?”

“We need space,” Bitty said. “A big yard for a rink. Even a smallish rink will take a lot of space.”

Jack wrote that down.

“It might be better to look further out, then,” he said.

“I’d also like to be close to the city,” Bitty said. “But maybe that’s not as important. I don’t want to build new, though. Not for a first house. My Aunt Judy and Uncle Bob built themselves a brand new home on a lake in Georgia, put in a home theater sound system to watch movies in the great room, and it turned out you could hear it better in the bedrooms upstairs than sitting in front of the TV. I don’t want to make mistakes like that.”

They could probably find and hire a better architect -- and a sound engineer, if it came to designing a home theater -- than Bitty’s Aunt Judy, but Jack kept that thought to himself. If Bitty didn’t want to supervise the construction of a house, Jack wasn’t about to make him, and there was no way Jack could do it during the season.

“It needs to have a good kitchen,” Jack said instead. “I mean, we can get new appliances and do some remodeling, but there has to be enough space for you to work and for us to eat.”

“For you to distract me, you mean,” Bitty said, but he looked fond, and didn’t object, so Jack added it to the list.

“Good schools,” Jack said. “A patio or deck, or at least room for one, and space for a decent gym. And mature trees.”

Bitty nodded at all of that, then said, “I think maybe we should set a budget, then you can talk to Shelby about how we pay for it? And who to work with as a buyer’s agent?”

“You thought two and a half million was too much,” Jack said.

“Unless the house cleans itself and shovels its own snow in the winter,” Bitty said.

“A million and a half?” Jack said. “As a target?”

Bitty shook his head like he was exasperated, but then he grinned.

“It’s your money,” he said.

“No, it’s our money,” Jack said.

The next day, while Bitty was on calls about the next cookbook, Jack called Shelby.

“Bitty and I want to buy a house,” he said. “But we need help.”

“Okay,” Shelby said. “Help how?”

“Help with finding an agent, knowing what questions to ask, how to do the money part of it,” Jack said. “I mean, I think we can afford most places, but I don’t know the mechanics of it.”

“We can help with that,” Shelby said. “Let me make some calls and set you up with a buyer’s agent. They can help with the search, and getting a home inspection and all that. And I’ll get the financial team together to run some numbers. It might make more sense, tax-wise, to get a mortgage, or you might find a seller who will give you a discount for cash. Do you have an idea about the budget you’re looking at?”

��Well, Bits and I went out to a few open houses yesterday,” Jack said.

“You did?” Shelby said. “Oh, my gosh. The agents must have been falling all over themselves. If they recognized you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugged. Maybe that was why the agents followed them around so much.

“The most expensive place was listed at $2.35 mil,” Jack said. “I thought it was pretty nice, but Bitty thought it was too much.”

“Too much money? Too much house?” Shelby asked. “Do you remember the address?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, and read the address off his phone. “Too much money, yes, and he said it was a bit too grand. But he also thought the property was too small. He seems to think we need room to put in an outdoor rink in the winter.”

“He wants a rink?”

“He thinks I want a rink.”

“Do you?” Shelby asked.

“It would be nice,” Jack said. “I guess. Especially if we ever have kids. But it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”

“What is it that you want?”

“I want Bits to have a great kitchen,” Jack said. “But Bitty pointed out that we can remodel the kitchen, as long as there’s room.”

“Sounds like you two spent some time talking about this,” Shelby said.

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“Okay, let me look for a buyer’s agent,” she said. “I can have some names to you tomorrow. And Jack, congratulations. I know this is a big step.”

Things moved quickly after that. Shelby provided a list of possible agents, along with her recommendation, whom Bitty and Jack agreed to hire. By the Thursday of that week, they had a meeting with the agent, Melissa Field.

“It was so nice of you to come to us,” Bitty said, seating Melissa in the dining room. “Can I get you coffee? Tea? Pie?”

“Shelby said your pie is not to be missed,” Melissa said. “So yes, please. Coffee, too, if it’s not any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Bitty said. “I have a traditional cherry pie and a ginger peach.”

“Ooh, ginger peach,” Melissa said.

“Good choice.”

Jack took a seat as Bitty disappeared into the kitchen.

“Did I pick right?” Melissa asked.

“They’re both great,” Jack said. “Though I think I prefer the cherry, so yeah, perfect choice. More cherry for me.”

“Can you tell me about why you decided now was the time to buy a house?” Melissa asked.

“It’s not just my decision,” Jack said. “It’s Bitty’s too. But I am turning 30 next week, and my contract will keep us here for at least the next few years, and it seemed like time to put down some roots.”

Melissa nodded.

“Do you want to wait for Eric to talk about what you’re looking for?” she asked.

“That would be best,” Jack said.

Bitty bustled in and out, first bringing coffee with cream and sugar, then tea for Jack, then three slices of pie: two ginger peach and a sliver of cherry for Jack.

Melissa took them through a very long checklist of what they wanted, what they didn’t want and what they just didn’t care about. Baseboard heat? Built in shelves? Gas fireplaces?

“But air conditioning is important,” Bitty said.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s a buyer’s market, especially just now with school about to start, and there are several properties for sale that might fit the bill. Let me send you information tomorrow and we can make maybe two or three appointments for the weekend. If we have to, we can do the same thing next week, and the week after, until you’re comfortable making a choice.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said.

On Saturday, Melissa had three appointments set up. The first was an 1890 Victorian in Warwick, with five bedrooms and three and half bathrooms and more than two acres of property.

It had been updated inside, Melissa said as she led the way inside, with central air and new plumbing and electrical systems.

Bitty let out a bark of laughter as soon as they entered the living room.

“Dog people, I guess?” he said, nodding at the oil portrait of the German shepherd over the fireplace.

But he wasn’t laughing at the open kitchen, or the laundry room/mud room/butler’s pantry, which had an extra fridge and stove. It was also well within the budget at $1.2 million.

Next was a house in North Smithfield with four bedrooms and six bathrooms, which seemed disproportionate to Jack. But the kitchen was spacious, as was the yard, and it already had a play set, which made Jack imagine what it would be like with kids. Listed at just over a million dollars, the price was no obstacle,but it didn’t have as much character as the first one.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Melissa said, driving them toward Lincoln. “This is the biggest of the three, with two separate in-law units, an adjoining workshop or studio that you can use for a gym, an in-ground pool, six-car garage and more than four acres.”

The main house, whose oldest parts dated to 1812, was gorgeous, with a stone exterior and clean lines. But the adjoining garage and workshop didn’t seem to match the aesthetic. Then again, what did Jack know about aesthetics?

Bitty was taken with the open land, Jack could see.

The inside of the house was also good, until Jack saw the kitchen. How could a six-bedroom house have a galley-style kitchen?

Jack knew Bitty was disappointed in the kitchen as well, but he didn’t say so in front of Melissa.

“Any thoughts?” Melissa asked.

“Let us talk for a while,” Jack said. “Can I call you this evening? Or tomorrow. I know it’s Sunday.”

“Either is fine,” Melissa said, dropping them at the condo building.

“Come on, bud,” Jack said, heading for Bitty’s favorite diner instead of going upstairs. “Let’s talk about it over food.”

They settled into the booth, ordered and waited for their meals before getting down to business.

“It has to be the last one,” Bitty said, after inhaling half of his grilled cheese. “It’s the biggest, and has the most property, and it has plenty of room for people to stay, and for a gym, too. And it wasn’t any more expensive. Less than the one in Warwick.”

“But the kitchen is small,” Jack said, pulling the toothpick out of his turkey club.

“Maybe we could add on?” Bitty said. “Or not. The appliances are good. I liked the double oven.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “It’s in the old part of the house, so I’m not sure an addition would work. What about the one in Smithfield?”

“It ticked all the boxes” Bitty acknowledged. “But didn’t love it. I can’t really say why. Too boxy, maybe?

Jack nodded in acknowledgement, chewed and swallowed. “That leaves the one in Warwick.”

“With Rin Tin Tin?” Bitty said.

“We don’t have to keep the portrait,” Jack said.

“It only had a one-car, detached garage,” Bitty said.

“That would probably be easier to expand than the kitchen,” Jack said.

“Or not,” Bitty said. “You don’t know that.”

“I didn’t really like that whole six-car garage thing in Lincoln,” Jack said. “It’s basically attached to the house, but it’s like a big shed. We could do so much better expanding the garage on the one in Warwick. And it has a view of the water.”

“From the third floor,” Bitty said. “How’re those knees holding up, Mr. NHL Player?”

“Fine,” Jack said, a little stiffly. “What do you have against the house in Warwick? You liked it when we saw it, especially the butler’s pantry and laundry room.”

“Nothing,” Bitty said. “Well, besides the dog picture. Could you imagine that room with Lardo’s painting? But we would need a bigger garage, at the very least.”

“I really don’t think that would be a problem,” Jack said. “It’s old, but it’s not landmarked or anything and there’s plenty of room. And it’s not far from Marty and his family. Why are you so set on the one in Lincoln?”

“It seems like a better deal,” Bitty said. “More space -- bigger lot, bigger house, more bedrooms -- for less money. You shouldn’t turn that down just so I have a bigger kitchen to mess up.”

Jack dragged the last of Bitty’s fries through a dollop of mayonnaise.

“I still don’t understand how you like that,” Bitty said.

“It reminds me of home,” Jack said. “And that’s what it is about the kitchen. For me, home is the place where I sit and watch you bake, and eat what you cook, and listen to you go on about butter and shortening and a thousand other things. If I can’t do that, the house won’t be home, no matter how many cars will fit in the garage.

“I want that, and if we do end up with kids, I want there to be room for them to sit in the kitchen and have a snack after school, and do their homework, and talk to us. Remember the way everyone gravitated to the kitchen in the Haus? It wasn’t like that before you got there, but I want it to be like that.”

“So you like the million-dollar house in Warwick because it has the potential to be more like the falling-down frat house we lived in in college?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Then let’s buy that one,” Bitty said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see more?” Jack said.

“Do you?” Bitty said. “I do like that house, and I loved the view from the kitchen. As long as it passes the inspection and all that.”

“Then let’s do it,” Jack said. “I’ll call Melissa when we get home.”

On Monday, Jack woke up to a bouncy Bitty who was already tying his running shoes.

“Coming with, bud?”

“Yep,” Bitty said. “It’s your birthday. And I intend to follow you into the shower when we get back. Fair warning.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Bitty laughed, then said, “You have to pick up your parents after lunch, so we have to take advantage of our opportunities.”

The run was fine, the shower was better, and the post-shower romp in the bed was best of all.

“Is it weird that I’m thinking about how this is the last birthday we’ll celebrate here?” Bitty said, snuggling up to Jack afterwards. “We’ve had some good ones.”

“This is already a good one,” Jack said. “At least from my point of view.”

“Hush. I have to get up to start getting things ready. Your parents land in two hours, so you don’t have that much time either, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack had groaned and stood up, ready for another shower, when his phone rang.

“Jack? This is Melissa. I have good news,” she said. “The owners accepted your offer, at least verbally. Well, of course they did. You offered what they were asking. But I’m going to work with Shelby to draw up a contract and we should be looking at closing before your season starts.”

“Wow,” Jack said. “That’s great.”

He looked around the bedroom with a sudden rush of nostalgia. The new bedroom in the new house would be good too, he told himself.

“What is it?” Bitty said, rubbing at his hair with a towel as he came out of the bathroom. “Everything okay?”

“They accepted our offer,” Jack said. “They’ll draw up the contract and we can close in a few weeks.”

“That is great,” Bitty said. “Even if the change is … a little disconcerting?”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack said. “We’ll do it together.”

That evening, after steaks and portobello mushrooms were grilled, and the guests stuffed themselves with salads and homemade bread and three kinds of pie, Jack stood and tapped his wine glass.

“Everyone, I have an announcement,” he said.

“But he already married Bitty,” Tater whispered to Shitty. “You think they have a baby coming?”

Shitty shrugged. “I dunno,” he said.

Jack could hear every word because Tater’s whisper … wasn’t.

“Not a baby,” he said. “But we are putting down roots. Bits and I are buying a house. Our offer was accepted today.”

His parents hugged him, and Bitty pulled out his phone to show off pictures.

“Look at that portrait of the dog, Lardo,” Bitty said. “Can we commission something else to go there?”

@jackzimmermannturns30

#jack zimmermann turns 30 #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #my fic

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, LET THEM GO: PART 9

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

A/N: Ayyy, they’re in New Orleans, a place I know well enough to write about.

November 2015

“Tor, where are you draggin’ me?” Sonny laughed, hand in Victoria’s as they made their way through Jackson Square. It was almost eerie past midnight.

“You said you were hungry! We’re a block away from something I think you’ll like.”

“Doll, we’re in New Orleans. We’re always a block from something I’ll like.” What he liked was seeing her so in her element. The city had a soul more like hers, and seeing her pull him through the streets made him feel like he was a teenager with a crush again instead of a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday with his wife. They’d just dropped their bags in the hotel after their flight. She’d found them a place steps from Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, and in the night, her cheeks were flushed pink from the wind coming off of the Mississippi River and excitement.

“There’s no line at Cafe du Monde at one in the morning,” she grinned, giving an exaggerated flourish. “Louisiana zeppoli sound good? Beignets.”

“You get me.” They sat at the little metal table, and he looked out at the empty square. When they’d come so long ago, her mother had gotten a friend to lend her their apartment, and the pair had taken the trolley to the zoo or aquarium or museum during the day. This trip, he was excited to go to bars and hear live music and have cocktails. Come back to a hotel where they could order room service. He was determined to make another trip to the zoo as well. The pictures from before showed two lanky teenagers pretending they didn’t like each other. Now they’d been together a decade plus.

“You got a little messy,” she grinned, Sonny having exhaled at the wrong time. Powdered sugar was everywhere, but the broad smile as he ate was perfect. Victoria took a picture of Sonny with his crinkled eyes and dimpled grin, covered in powdered sugar with a beignet in front of him. He polished it off, paying before he leaned to kiss her as she laughed. He tasted like airport coffee, pastry, and sugar as he pulled her close on the street outside.

“You know, it’s officially the second now. You’re thirty!”

“I guess I am,” he chuckled, kissing her again.

“Happy birthday, cher. I guess you oughta get me back to the hotel so we can celebrate…” His goofy grin turned wicked as he pulled her down St. Ann’s Street to the hotel, scooping her up bridal style when they got to their hallway. Victoria squealed, slipping the key from her bag to unlock the door for him and he kicked it closed behind them. He woke with her wrapped around him and sun from the courtyard filtering in. Thirty was going to be much better, he could already tell. When she woke, she felt his fingers tracing her spine, and she curled closer into him.

“Mornin’ handsome.” She always developed an accent when she was around southerners. Her mom had given her a little twang, but the Louisiana accent was thick now, and he loved it.

“Mornin’ doll. You sleep okay?”

“You tired me out.” He was rewarded with a crooked grin, and Sonny kissed her softly and pulled her close again. “Happy birthday. What do you want to do today?”

“Order breakfast in? Maybe go to the zoo?”

“You want to go to the zoo?”

“Yeah. It was what we did last time when I realized I had a crush on you. Could be good before we go to dinner and that burlesque show.”

“It’s going to be perfect,” she grinned. “Anything you wanna do. All day.”

“Anything?” The impish smile was back, and they didn’t have breakfast for another couple of hours. Watching Sonny as they made their way to the zoo, she grinned, arms wrapping around his waist.

“You’re cute.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I like how excited you get about things.”

“Is that why you call me a puppy so often?”

“A little,” she chuckled, buying their tickets and leading him in.

“Better than a lanky noodle,” he grinned, arms around her waist as they watched the flamingos near the entrance. Whenever they planned to take this vacation, he hadn’t really anticipated how nice it would be to have a whole swath of the country between him and all the dark things he dealt with at work. In the city, he would pass places that brought a case to mind easily, even if he wasn’t really thinking about it. They’d walk by a bar and some part of his brain noted that was where the vic in the case last year was assaulted. In New Orleans, he knew there was still crime. He could even guess dangerous spots. But, he didn’t have names and faces and stories. Instead, he had the old independent bookstore with no air conditioning he’d followed Victoria through, the humidity and heat making him sweat straight through his t-shirt. Here, there was the little area he’d sat and stared as Victoria watched the orangutans with a broad grin. They’d definitely be stopping there. And he was excited for the Louisiana Swamp portion. Those were the two he had the strongest memory of. As if she knew, Victoria took his hand, tugging him towards the fountain and to the roman candy wagon just before the path to the monkeys.

“I almost forgot about this,” he chuckled, fishing a dollar from his pocket. “We goin’ chocolate and vanilla?”

“Duh.” She took the long sticks of what was basically taffy wrapped in wax paper gladly. It was as stretchy and messy as he remembered, and they walked happily, pinching off pieces and passing it back and forth. Between the orangutans and gorillas was the same wooden seating area, and they sat.

“Y’know, I think this is where I realized I was in love with you,” he said, leaning back against the tree trunk that grew in the middle. “You were watching the baby orangutan. Got so excited when they told you his name and stuff. And then you were telling everybody that came after the zookeeper left everything like you were the new tour guide. I remember looking at ya in the sun in that flowery spaghetti strap dress and all your hair up and this big smile and knowing it was gonna be you.”

“Really?” she asked, head tilted as he nodded. Now she was in one of his pullovers tucked into jeans, bundled up from the breeze. It was twelve years later, and she was just as perfect in the sun. She leaned to kiss him sweetly, staying close. “Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I realized I loved you in the swamp part. You were so excited, and I remember already realizing I liked you. Then there’s that statue of the swamp monster? The rugaru when you turn the corner? We were there and a kid ran the corner ahead of his mom and got scared. He started crying and got embarrassed and you just sat down and told him the rugaru scared you too and hung out the minute for his mom to catch up. Knew it then I wanted you forever.”

“We’re real disgusting, aren’t we?”

“Just a little,” she smiled, kissing him again. It was nice to sit in the sun beside him, taking turns pointing out when there was activity in each enclosure. Sonny still smiled just like he did when they were teenagers, but he was more relaxed now that she had him this far from the city. His shoulders carried less tension and his smile always reached his eyes. They’d be taking a yearly vacation from here on out. They needed the time away from the city.

“If your mom had raised you here, our lives would be so different,” he mused as they leaned against the railing in the swamp portion. They took turns looking into the green of the swamp water to point out alligators floating along.

“I’d be a swamp witch.” Her voice was serious enough Sonny couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him.

“And I’d probably have ended up a priest.”

“Good and evil. Are we an unholy union then?”

“Nah. Told ya before, doll. Preordained by the big guy. Might not have found you when I was five. But you’d have ended up stuck with me any way.”

“It means the world to me how strongly you believe that. I ever told you? Even when we were separated, I knew we wouldn’t get divorced, but I’d get scared we couldn’t fix it.”

“Me too. But we’re here. I get to start my thirties with ya. And we’ll have babies and grandbabies and great grandbabies.”

“We will. And short term? We’ll have a lot more trips. Get more breaks.”

“I’d like that a lot. It’s nice being way out here. Wanna do it more.”

They made their way to the hotel in time to shower before dinner and to make it to the bar putting on the burlesque show in time for drinks. Early on, Victoria had figured out Sonny was a sucker for old school burlesque. She’d done a boudoir shoot for him done up with all the vintage trimmings, and one night, she’d convinced him to attend a burlesque show at home, one with a live band. That, he’d liked. There was a bar on Canal Street, Burgundy, that had a local burlesque troupe perform on the weekends. The place was sultry when they walked in, all deep velvets and a glittering chandelier. She’d kissed his cheek, going to powder her nose before she ordered. They’d dressed up, and Sonny leaned against the counter waiting to order.

“This seat taken?” asked a petite brunette, and he didn’t think anything of it.

“Nah. I’m going to a table.”

“You’re not from around here, are ya?”

“Visiting from New York,” he shrugged, still watching the bartender.

“And here I was hoping you’d be a local. It’s a shame I’ll only see you tonight.”

“Yeah. It’s the only night they got the show. Came for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday.” The bartender stopped, and he ordered two drinks, the champagne one with rose water he knew Victoria would like and whatever the specialty was with whiskey for himself.

“That for me?” she asked, and the way she tilted her head told him he was an idiot. He suddenly took in the way she was leaning towards him, eyes going wide. Luckily, he could see Victoria in the background, and she chuckled as he caught her eye. One thing he was grateful for was the fact she knew he could be dumb. He looked at women, sure. Victoria looked at men sometimes. That didn’t matter because they had no interest in doing anything with anybody else. He didn’t, however, tend to realize the eyes a woman was giving him.

“It’s for me,” Victoria smiled, wrapping an arm around Sonny’s waist easily and resting the hand with her wedding ring on his chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize…” Victoria just gave her a smile and a nod, taking her drink gratefully and following Sonny to their table. His cheeks were pink and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh as she slid beside him on the booth side of the table facing the stage.

“Tor, I had no clue,” he said like she was terribly upset. She cared just enough to wrap the territorial arm around him, but not enough to scold him. Hell, it was endearing. “I wouldn’t ever wanna flirt with anybody but you so sometimes I miss it.”

“Dom, I’m not mad. You’re hot as hell, and it’s really sweet how clueless you are. Not your fault other women notice the hot part.”

“Shuddup,” he muttered, ears turning red now. “You don’t notice when guys flirt with you either.”

“I do too!”

“Nah. The guy at the zoo? The one that was friendly until I showed up? Doll, he had been checkin’ you out.”

“What? No. He just wanted to know where the food was.”

“Oh? That’s why he was standing outside the ordering window when he asked you that?”

“Shit.” Sonny laughed, slipping an arm around her.

“It’s okay. I kind of like showing up like ‘Yeah, she’s hot. And she’s my wife.’”

“I like doing the same to you.”

“Love you, Tor.”

“And I love you, Dom. Happy birthday.”

Tags: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x oc #sonny carisi x reader #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #463

“the siren sings a lonely song of all the wants & hungers / the lust of love, a brute desire”

Describe the person that you would like to be in three years. I want my mental health to be in great condition, I really want to be in much better physical shape, ideally be living with somebody in our own place, have a job I'm happy with, have an improved social life, my own license and car... Think back to when you first met your significant other (or ex). Was your first impression of them accurate? It's funny, I honestly don't remember what my first impression of Girt was. I don't even recall our first interaction. I'm sure it was most likely that he was friendly, because he is and always has been. What is your most noticeable personality trait? Probably that I'm really, really shy. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Which of your family members do you resemble the most? I guess one of my immediate sisters? People tend to say stuff like they can definitely tell we're related. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Who knows you better than anyone else? Hell, probably whoever reads these. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? I guess you could call dating Girt a "new chapter." I have a much, much stronger feeling of this attempt being more successful than the last now that I've been able to change my angle on how I see him. What’s the most expensive thing your car needed to get done? I don't have my own vehicle and never have. If you had a thousand dollars to spend on a pricey brand you like but can’t really afford (until now of course), which ONE brand would you choose? *shrug* Most products of highly expensive brands I find hideous anyway. Do you still talk to any of your old teachers? Yeah. One is a close family friend and actually our landlord. Does your family still use the home phone or are you all on cell phones now? We haven't had a landline is yeeeeaaarrrrsssss. Ever go to another school’s prom? No; my boyfriend went to the same school as me. Do you ever venture into the woods? What do you normally do there? No; we live in the city now. :/ When I DID live in the woods, I absolutely loved wandering around with my camera for stuff to take pics of. Does your significant other ever make you mix CDs? None ever have but omg I wish that would be adorable. How did you dress your freshman year of high school? I was one of them emo kids. Would you ever date your best friend of the opposite sex? WELP that's what I'm doing lol. Would you say you have a high sex drive or not so much? I'd call it normal? Higher sometimes, lower other times, but not to either extreme. Come with an unpopular opinion. Silent Hill: Homecoming is a great game and while there's a lot of fan service from the movie, it belongs in the series. It's actually my second (or third)-favorite installment. Most of the SH community absolutely hate that game. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? A lot of shit Colleen would say if we got into arguments. She'd ridicule effects of my depression, said I'd never know what it's like to pay my own bills, stuff like that. She's hateful as fuck and everything cut deep. What’s fake about you? Like extensions, fake nails, botox etc. Nothing physical. If you got the chance, would you audition for a reality show? No. Have you ever gotten into a Facebook fight? More than once. What’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever experienced irl? Hm, I'm unsure. Favorite flavor of jelly bean? Probably watermelon. Do you use Tinder? If yes, have you ever met up with someone you matched? No. You do you, but if I understand Tinder correctly, it just seems... really shallow to me. Like don't you JUST see their picture to decide if you're interested or not? It just enforces the false belief that appearance really matters in love. You just poured your heart out to your crush and all he/she does is respond “k”. What do you respond/do? Well, I don't have a crush anymore; my boyfriend and I literally exchanged "I love you"s last night. That's not a crush. But for the sake of the question, I'll imagine I was single and this happened, in which case I would be both hurt and annoyed. Like, either tell me you return the feelings or not. It's not hard. What's your favorite thing to order from McDonald’s? I usually get a quarter pounder w/ cheese or a McDouble, occasionally with a small or medium fry, depending on how hungry I am. When do you feel your sexiest? Never, hunny. What's your favorite emoji? I don't really have one? It just depends on what the situation calls for. What’s your skincare routine? I don't really have one... I just use a washcloth to clean my face. Who all out of your immediate family smokes? My dad and stepmom. Do you like incense or candles better? Incense, totally. Do you respect your parents? Yeah. What’s your bf/gf’s name? It's technically Donald Jr., but since high school, I've known him as Girt, a nickname I won't explain for his privacy. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. Do you like The Beatles? I honestly don't. Except "Hey, Jude." What was the last reason you got excited? Last night. When we were saying goodbye, I was scared to, but I told Girt I loved him, and he immediately said it back confidently. My heart did like five flips. I'm still over the moon about it. Yes, we just got back together, but we've been in each other's lives as a constant since HS, and after changing my angle of how I looked at him, it's not at all platonic anymore. Do you know anyone who drinks the pickle juice from the jar? Sara does alskdjfklwejrl;er Name something crazy that’s happened recently? Uhhhh... I dunno. My life is very uneventful to have something really "crazy" happen. Can you say for a fact that you’re happy right now? I'm happy about some things, but also nervous and self-doubtful. Have you ever zip lined? No, but they look fun. I'd just be really scared of losing my grip. If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it on your own? Ha, no. Have you ever been on a boat and got sick? No, but the one time I was at the beach and on a boat riding to an island, I was TERRIFIED I was going to get sick because of the waves. I didn't, thankfully. Did you sleep well last night? For the most part. My new mask might just be working. Do your parents try and plan your life for you? Not at all. Do you have any pictures of you kissing someone? Yes. List two things about yourself that you find embarrassing. My weight and how dark my leg hair is. Do you like to cuddle with your pet when you are sad? Yes. Do you find piercing attractive or unattractive? h o t Do you have any secret hiding spots in your room? To put money, yes. Do you like parmesan cheese on your spaghetti? Ew, no. I don't like parmesan. Does your best girl friend have any talents that you don’t? Yeah. She can animate well, for one. And sing like a fucking champ. Do you have any video game systems in your room? Which one(s)? My Nintendo DS Lite is in here. Well, and my laptop is a gaming one. What color eyes does the last person you kissed have? ... Oh WOW I've known this man for a fuckin decade and somehow I'm not sure??? But I want to say light blue? Have you ever taken a ride in a helicopter? No. Have you ever visited hot springs? No. How slowly or quickly would you say you eat? I'm aware I eat too fast, because my mom will point it out almost without fail if we eat in sight of each other. I'm not a messy eater at all, just... fast. Chewing your food and swallowing isn't a complex task. I've made active efforts to slow down, I just haven't been able to succeed. It doesn't feel normal. That and I've come to discover that when I chew food TOO much, I don't like the mushy texture of it in my mouth. What did you do the last time you were with friends? Yesterday Girt and I planned to watch shitty Netflix anime for some laughs, but we wound up starting Attack on Titan, which I am officially pretty into. What kind of cologne/perfume do you like the opposite sex to wear? I don't care if they wear any or not, so long as they know how to clean themselves and therefore not actually smell bad. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? We always use a fake one. Is there someone who means a lot to you but they don’t know that? My sisters probably don't, really... Is money important to you? Live your whole life poor and I want to see you answer "no" to this. Have you ever watched a meteor shower? No. Do you like Slim Jims? LOOOOOOOVE them. Would you rather write a mystery or love story? Love story. Are you muscular? No. Working for it. Do you have one of those removable hand-held shower heads? Yes. Originally, this house didn't, but I hated it so much that Mom bought one. How many burners does your stove have? Four. Has your car ever been broken into? Mom's hasn't.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''blood milk and sky'' by white zombie

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

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BTS Reacts: Visiting the Pumpkin Patch/Apple Orchard-Hyung Line

It’s Fall AF where I live. I don’t know if these are a thing in the rest of the world, but here in Midwest USA I’ve already been to two apple orchards and a pumpkin patch. Happy Fluffy Friday ^_^

-Jin- You were so excited. Chuseok had just ended and Jin still had 2 days off. You decided it was time to usher in the new season with a trip to the Apple Orchard. “Why don’t we just go to the grocery store and buy apples?” your boyfriend jokingly complained as the two of you drove out into the country. “It’s not the same! It’s about the experience.” you adjust your sunglasses as the car winds down a curvy road. “The experience of picking apples? Isn’t this just them getting free labor?” You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This place also has a concession stand, animals, and a giant slide and zipline.” Suddenly you have his interest. “Oh? Really?” “Yep. So much more than just picking apples.” you say as the car turns down the first dirt road to the orchard. It’s a weekday so it isn't too busy. You mask up and pay the nominal admission fee. “Oh my God, Jin LOOK THEY HAVE ALPACAS” you squeal as you rush over to the petting zoo area. Jin jogs over behind you, “Just like RJ. These must be his brothers, AJ and MJ.” You laugh as you dig through your bag for a coin. “And look,” you gesture to the machine with food in it, “We can feed them!!!!!” You twist your coin in and little pellets fall out the bottom. You walk over to the fence and place your palm flat for the animals to come over and eat. “So cool. I’ve never seen a real alpaca up close.” you marvel at their size as they head over. Jin snaps a picture of you feeding them and then has you take a picture of him with them to post on Weverse later. “I can’t believe there’s not an RJ in the car,” Jin laments his missed photo opportunity while posing with AJ and MJ. “Perfect. Triplets.” you joke and hand him his phone back. “Alright, let’s wash our hands and pick some apples!” Jin groans, “They have bags of apples in the gift shop that someone else already picked.” “Oh my God are you still whining about apple picking?” you playfully shove him. “Fine. Let’s wash our hands and then do the zipline and then pick apples.” you amend your statement. He kisses your forehead. “Much better.” The two of you scrub the alpaca saliva off and head up the hay stairs to the zipline. “Look how big the orchard is!” you exclaim from the top of the hay bales. Jin slowly walks up behind you. “Yeah and think. People already probably picked all the apples up front, we’d have to walk all the way over there,” he gestures unnecessarily with his long arms towards the back of the orchard, “just to find them.” “We CAME here to PICK APPLES,” you grit your teeth and try to look annoyed since at this point you knew he was just teasing you. He gets strapped into the zipline. “I’m just saying, it seems like a lot of work.” You roll your eyes at him, “Hey Jin, baby?” “What?” he turns back from getting ready to slide down the cable and smiles at you. “I just think you look cute.” you answer and lean over to kiss him. And then shove him down the zipline. “Byyeeeeeeee!” you yell and wave as you hear him shrieking. The attendant looks at you quizzically. “He’s fine. He’s fine.” you assure them as they get you strapped in. You jump off the platform and through the air. When you arrive at the other side you see Jin pouting which makes you start to laugh. You turn in your zipline gear and walk over to him. “What’s the matter, pretty pouty man?” you put your arms around him. “You shoved me down a zipline.” he whines. “Ahahaha I did.” You lean back to look at him, amused that he’s trying really hard to keep pouting. “It was so mean.” “It was. I am terrible. Can you ever forgive me?” you place your hands on his chest and look up at him. “Only if you don’t make me pick apples.” he says with a straight face. You scowl at him and pull away. You hear his trademark laugh following you down the hill.

-RM/Namjoon- “Pumpkin patch. Pumpkin patch. Pumpkin patch!” you start chanting as you walk over to your husband on the couch. “Is that what today is?” he pulls you down next to him and you snuggle into his side. “Joonie,” you whine, “you said if the weather was nice we would go.” “I’m just teasing baby, here,” he shows you on his phone where he’s been researching the ratings of the pumpkin patches in town. You loved how much research he always put into everything. “I’m so excited. I haven’t been to one in years.” you smile. “Did you pick one?” “Yep, and I charged the fancy camera so we can get some nice pictures today as well.” “You are the best!” you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Let me grab some boots out of the closet and then I’ll be ready to go.” You are surprised that one of the highest rated ones is only a few minutes outside the city. You drive the short distance and arrive at a beautiful farm sprinkled in red, yellow, and orange leaves. “Oh my God, this is beautiful.” you say as you exit the driver’s side. Namjoon already has the camera out and shoots some photos of the barn and trees. “I’m so glad you brought the camera,” you say as you nervously watch him handle the thousands-of-dollars camera. “But make sure you use the wrist or neck strap.” “Are you saying you don’t trust me to hold an expensive item without breaking it?” he pretends to act shocked. You smile and walk over. “I would never say that,” you place the strap around his wrist and laugh as you look up at him. “Never.” He laughs. “I totally would have. Or left it sitting somewhere. Thanks for talking me into taking today off.” He takes you by the hand as the two of you head down to the farmhouse. e There is a small general store full of breads, james, hay bales, and scarecrows. Much fall. So knickknack. You walk over to the counter where a farmer is sorting produce, “Excuse me sir, which way to the pumpkin patch?” “Head out the back of the barn. You can either ride the wagon back there or walk.” The two of you exit the barn and find yourself in the middle of a group of about fifty small children and their chaperones. “Oh.” Namjoon says, his eyes involuntarily going wide. “It must be a school trip. That’s ok. We can walk back there, I think they’re waiting for the wagon.” The two of you ease your way through the tiny mob and start walking down the gravel. “Alright. We have to beat that wagon before the field has 50 fewer pumpkins,” you say as you pump your arms and channel your inner speed walker. “And get some pictures without random children in them,” he adds. By the time the two of you walk the Kilometer to the patch you two are slightly out of breath. “Alright. Let’s find the perfect pumpkin.” you say as you survey the patch. The two of you wander the fields scouting out the perfect size and color pumpkin. Namjoon takes some photos of the field and you. “Ok, time to trade,” you say, gesturing to the camera. “I don’t know.” he suddenly acts shy. “Oh come on, you have to. You’re wearing your plaid shirt, it’s like you purposefully dressed to be a pumpkin patch model.” you grin as you take the camera from him. You snap some photos of him and the rural landscape. You hear the throttle of the tractor and a bunch of kid voices getting closer so the two of you each grab a pumpkin and start walking back to the farmhouse. The wagon of children all wave excitedly and point at the two of you and your pumpkins. Namjoon laughs and waves back with his free hand. “Did you have a good time?” he asks as the two of you enter the general store. “I did. I felt a little rushed because of the kids but that’s ok. It looks like they’re having fun.” You smile. “You’ll be such a great parent someday,” he smiles as he leans over to kiss you.

-Suga/Yoongi- “More coffee.” Yoongi’s gravely morning voice requests after you remind him it’s apple orchard day. He had gotten out of bed and was now doing a great impression of a rock as he sat at the kitchen table with his face in his hands. “Honey, they have cider at the orchard.” “Cider doesn’t have caffeine,” he responds. “Coffee.” You run your fingers through his hair and smile “Fine, fine.” you walk over to the Nespresso and make a cup of coffee for him. You take the mug over and slide onto his lap. “I’d be careful if you want to make it to the apple orchard.” he growls into your ear and squeezes your waist. “Yoongi,” you giggle and stand up. “There’s time for that after the apple orchard.” you wink and walk over to your purse. “We need to leave here in 45 minutes.” “Why? Are we on a schedule?” “A little bit. We’re meeting up with Tae and Jimin.” “Oh yeah? Cool.” he monotonously responds as he continues to wake up more and more with each sip. -- It’s a beautiful fall day with a light breeze blowing and the sun shining. It’s perfect for what you have planned. The ride up was nice but quiet. You were super nervous about how the afternoon was going to go. "Are Tae and Jimin here yet?" Yoongi asks as he pulls into the parking lot. You check your messages. "Yep. They're already out in the orchard and say we should head out to meet them." you exit the car and wait for yoongi. The two of you hold hands as you look for the best way to get into the orchard. You weave in and out of the apple trees looking for your friends. “It’s so beautiful today.” he says quietly. “It really is. Do you remember the last time we came here?” He smiles, “Oh yep. I remember. Speaking of, do you have your epi-pen with you?” “Of course,” you pat your purse. Eventually you find where Tae and Jimin had set up. “What’s all this?” Yoongi gestured to the blanket and basket sitting in the clearing. “Tae and Jimin set this up, they went to the car and said to have a seat and wait for them.” “Are you sure this is their stuff?” he mumbles. “Yep. They sent me a picture,” you flash it to him. “Let’s go find them.” he starts to pull you the other direction. “No. We should really stay and wait for them. I don’t want to get lost.” you say as you head over to the large hounds tooth blanket and have a seat. “Since when are you worried about being lost? We wandered the streets of Dublin for hours.” “I just want to make sure we don’t miss our friends. Come sit with me,” you pat the spot on the blanket carefully. Yoongi looks toward the entrance one more time and then gives in, coming over to sit next to you. You check your phone one more time. Satisfied, you slip it into your purse. You stiffen as a bee flies over to the blanket. “Aish, I got it.” He pulls his sleeve over his hand and swats it away. “If I see another one, we’re getting up and moving. Actually, an apple orchard was a terrible idea to come to with your allergy.” “I know, I know. I thought about that too but I wanted to come here today. I remember the last time we were here.” “Yeah, I thought you were going to die.” Yoongi says, trying to sound casual, but you can detect the slight shake in his voice. You shrug and take him by the hand, “But I didn’t. And that’s the day I knew that you were the one for me.” You lean over and kiss him gently on the lips. “You stayed calm and helped me inject myself and then took me to the hospital and stayed even though I kept begging you to just leave while delirious and crying.” He smiles shyly, “Yeah, it was what, like our second or third date? I called Namjoon to cancel going to practice and he yelled at me for even being out on a date and then I hung up on him.” “What? You never told me that before,” you exclaim. You had no idea you’d caused any drama. “I didn’t want to worry you.” he replies, gently pushing your hair behind your ear. “Well, that’s why I wanted to come back here today,” you begin as you grab a small box out of your purse. “I knew on that day that you would do anything to protect me and just how much you care about me even though it was so early in our relationship. I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to make forever official with you,” you open the box and present him with a small black band. “Are you proposing to me?” he asks quietly. “I’m trying to. Am I doing a bad job?” you ask nervously, suddenly worried he’s going to say ‘no.’ He smiles and takes the band out and looks at it. “No. I’m just surprised. And happy.” he puts it on. “So….is that a yes?” you ask nervously. He looks up at you with wet eyes. “Of course.” he leans over and the two of you kiss, it slowly turns into a make-out session until you hear someone clear their throat. You pull away smiling and look over at Taehyung and Jimin. “They’re actually here?” he says surprised. “Congratulations!” Jimin yells and attacks Yoongi with a hug. “Did you get any pictures?” you ask Tae. “Oh yeah. Lots of them,” he smiles at you. “You did a great job planning this.” “You were all in on this!?” Yoongi exclaims, throwing Jimin off of him. “Yep! I wanted Taehyung to take pictures and Jimin wanted to join as well.” “Aish, I’m lucky to have such great friends,” he leans over and quietly in your ear, “and such a wonderful fiance.”

-JHope/Hoseok- Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch dragging his feet about going out today, "It's not a haunted corn maze, right?" Hoseok asks you for the 50th time with a disgusted look on his face. You let out a sigh and put your hands on his shoulders. "No babe it's just a normal corn maze where we wander around and try to get to the other side." "... I don't know." "I think you are emotionally scarred from Run BTS," you say as you press a kiss to the top of his head and move to sit next to him. "We don't have to do the corn maze if you don't want to.” You take his hand in yours. “Let's just go and pet the pumpkins. If we decide to do something else while we're there that's fine too." "OK sounds good. I saved some cool carvings on my phone," he pulls it out to show you a few intricate designs he's saved. "ooo very cool. We'll need at least 2 big pumpkins and a few medium. Are you ready?" you ask as you put your bag over your shoulder. He grabs a cap and follows you out the door. ------ The pumpkin patch is just outside the city and is famous for its corn maze. This year it is in the shape of an underwater scene with fish, whales, and dolphins. You point out the picture at the entrance to Hobi emphasizing the “family friendly” parts of the poster. “I’m not saying we have to. I’m just showing you what it looks like.” you emphasize as the two of you walk over to the barn area. There are chickens and horses lazily wandering around the yard. “Have you ever been to a farm before?” he asks you as you take photos of the animals. “No. Is it obvious?” you laugh. “I’ve seen horses before but not just like wandering around with chickens and stuff.” “You’re cold,” he states rather than asks. “Here,” he takes off his sweatshirt and hands it to you. “Now you’ll be cold.” you say as you put on the still-warm sweatshirt. You not-so-secretly loved taking your boyfriend’s hoodies. “I’m fine. Besides, if we walk through that giant maze I’m sure we’ll work up a sweat. And the sun is coming out.” he smiles at you. He just radiates happiness, it’s one of the things you love about him. “You’ll try the corn maze? Really?” you turn and face him, wrapping your now-warm body around him. “Yes, I’ll try it.” he kisses you on the tip of your nose. “I read and it says they have emergency exits if we need to leave.” You laugh, “Well hopefully we won’t have to use them, but it’s nice to have the option.” The two of you wander over to the sign marked “Entrance” and take a few pictures for posterity and then begin wandering around. You hit several dead ends and Hoseok flinches a few times turing around corners. “Babe are you still worried there are zombies in here?” you ask, trying not to laugh because you know even though it’s silly, he’s scared. “..No. Just making sure we don’t run into people. Alive or otherwise.” You laugh. “Hey, here’s one of the emergency exits, “you gesture to a sign above the dead end the two of you have just walked into. “No. Not yet. We’re not giving up.” his voice sounds determined. “We’re going to conquer this corn maze. Or at least try for another 30 minutes, I’m getting hungry.” he grins as you two double back. You set a timer on your phone but when it goes off the two of you have a feeling you are getting close to the exit because you have moved pretty far along the treeline. You had the wherewithal to take a photo of the maze back at the Pumpkin Patch entrance so you know the exit is on the North side of the maze. “I think this is it!” he yells excitedly, pulling you by the hand and breaking out into a run. You turn one last corner and the two of you emerge victorious. He takes your hands and raises them above your head in true champion fashion. You take a picture of your sweaty happy smiles in front of the exit sign. “I knew we could do it!” you exclaim and lean over to kiss him. “Hey Hobi,” you say, catching your breath still. “Yeah?” “Let’s just eat food and get pumpkins from the farm store. I don’t want to hike to the back of the farm to the pumpkin patch.” “Oh thank God,” he says, “I thought I was going to have to beg you not to.” he laughs. “Seriously. I want one of everything from the concession stand.” you say as the two of you walk back towards the farmhouse. “Ahaha me too. I love you.” “I love you too.”

#bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts rm x you #bts jin x you #bts hoseok x reader #bts suga x you #bts yoongi x reader #bts namjoon x reader #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fluff

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x-exo · 3 years

Note

*slides into your asks with a rose in my mouth* why hello, tis me!

Apologies for the long wait but your favorite long asks anon is here and OOF so much has happened. Let us break it down one by one lol

Monsta x our beans, welp we can officially say we are army wives for them because shownu is now at the military and just welp this feels weird lol. I lowkey forgot he was meant to enlist so when the news came out I went through so many emotions. Its why the latest comeback feels a bit bittersweet to me. It is their BEST for sure and for this year, I agree so to not see him perform right before he left is a bit sad. I don't blame him of course (if anyone does i am fish slapping you) but just a shame. I'm happy we do get content with him still? Seems pre-planned so that is nice!

Onto legends exo, fantastic comeback. I cannot stop listening to the album, its just bops full of bops to me. They broke so many records and I'm over here sipping my tea because fudge yes. It isn't a full member comeback, 2 of the members featured in the comeback are off playing call of duty and they still did THAT. While having lay properly in the comeback!? (Or at least some form, better than tempo era!) Kyungsoo my beloved, the man that can swoon you off your feet, his proper solo album. Omg I am just in love? The album feels like a Playlist that you hear while taking a walk or on a raodtrip? I love it, I just love everything about this with how much thought was given. It makes me feel warm and I'm so proud of him (I think he even got a first win) but sadly xiumin got the it shall not be named virus D: I feel so bad and I can only hope he gets better! It makes me worried because I keep seeing more and more idols getting sick and I can't help but wonder why don't the kpop entertainment just put a pause with stuff? Of course that is VERY unrealistic, I am aware that is naive for me to think but its just so idk how to word it properly (my English brain is not working I am sorry) I cannot help the feeling of while I get people are being safe and yes we need to still live like normal beings, is it worth risking idols health just for some entertainment? Idk how to explain my thoughts properly but maybe I hope I made sense!!

Onto svt! That is perfectly fine to not vibe with a comeback! I will admit, I didn't fully vibe with this comeback and it shocked me because every comeback was a hit to me. Even fear, left and right or homerun where I know many fans were split on, I liked but RTL was a grower. For me, listening to it without watching the mv, helped it alot and it is a song I like. Is it their best? No I don't think so but it is alright to say "hey I didn't bop to this, not my cup of tea" (imo I blame the mv? The mv REALLY didn't do the song justice at all, I am sorry if I sound like a fake fan but this mv Just is bad in all aspects. Sure we have some pretty shots but like it just doesn't fit at all?) So if anything listening to the song or wishing the live performances does it better. Seeing the choreography amps the song up more, cannot go wrong with their dancing. As for the rest of the songs, I admit game boy is my top favorite? Idk if it is because I am a gaming nerd and found all the production of the song so creative but yeah. We can wait for the next comeback! Svt always have something up their sleeves, plus we do have their music projects to look forward too (I wonder when we will get one? Seeing as RTL promotions stopped) some positive news with the boys is they resigned like a year before their contract ends and I'm a bit emotional :') I'm excited to see the boys future projects. We did have caratland recently! Did you watch it if I may ask? We did get in the soop confirmation so I'm excited to watch that, the boys deserve that nice break (even if it was filmed for a show fjsbsns)

Ok I think that is it for kpop updates? XD I do hope life has been treating you kindly! Life has been a bit all over the place sadly so I hope it wasn't like that for you as well! Until next time my bean!

hii!!!! omg sorry for the late reply i've been pretty busy these days 🙈

indeed so much has happened! and much more since you sent this ask omg!!

our shownu is at war *looks into the distance* *wipes away tear* *sighs* by now I got used to enlistment news (see what happens when you stan 2nd and 3rd gen groups) but STILL [[IT HURT]] when they uploaded the monchannel videos of his goodbye day like ????? what kind of twisted mind diuhdfuihdifuhs but the boys were all so cute and soft but they seemed so sad they didn't want to let go of their super leader :(( I hope he's learning lots and making new friends (and also we've got our international super spy yoo kihyun giving us small updates on him every now and then so everything's fine!). Yeah I totally get you it felt empty without him this comeback and at first it didn't really clicked with me but when the enlistment news came out i understood he had to take care of his health and thoroughly check on his eye sight in order to be 100% ready for the military so it made sense he had to be absent :( everything was so close (the comeback and enlistment) that I'm sure there was no other way for doing it I'm pretty sure he couldn't maybe postpone the enlistment day any further

onto exo! my ksoo my soft boi my romantic boi 🥺 his album is so him SO HIM i can't explain it bur it's just HIM you know it's the type of album you'd play on loop on a summer afternoon when you've taken your papers and paints outside in the garden to paint a bit with the warm soft breeze moving the trees lightly 🤧 and he signs in English and SPANISH (he did it for me) my multilingual king he's a native. Also I've been watching Honeymoon Tavern with Jongin these days and OMG i could d word for him really (if you haven's watched it go do it when you have time) he's SO SOFT and SO CUTE and he works as a waiter and a wedding planner and helps with the room preparations and is also a tour guide and he's just so cute so happy al the time the way he interacts with everyone is so 🥺🤧😭 onto more serious stuff now: yeah i was so worried about minseok catching covid omg but i'm glad he went through it with our any major complication and the rest of the boys are safe too! I guess the industry doesn't stop bc that would mean a huge loss of thousands and thousands of dollars/won/etc so as long as the gov doesn't prohibit going out or gathering like at the beginning of the pandemic, they'll keep on going with the idols' schedules otherwise the industry would just shut down having no way of earning money to sustain all the companies and idols.

as for seventeen! yeah i like the songs too! the mv sure ruined rtl and listening to it without watching it has really helped it grow on me more but still it feels kind of meh to me idk i really like anyone i think it's my favourite from the album. AND NOW WE'VE GOT A COMEBACK IN OCTOBER!!!! yayyyyy i can't wait they seem to be preparing very diligently (i hope they release a sexy bop) it's a shame junhao aren't gonna be present for this comeback but i'm soooooo happy they have the opportunity to visit their families again omg they have spent 2 whole years without seeing them in the flesh they must be so happy to get back to them again!!! it's so funny seeing them be bored at the quarantine hotel and doing lives every day duhdfiudhfiuh i hope it passes quickly and they can see their loved ones finally! and I did watch Caratland!! omg the unit switch song was the best thing ever hhu doing lilili yabbay and not being able to stop laughing idfuhdifuhs perf team doing chocolate and owning it????? hello??? performance team more like main vocal team wow! and the vocal team being a complete mess during check in lmaooo i loved it! In The Soop has finally started!!! I love these kind of "normal life" concepts I love seeing the boys being themselves cooking and relaxing I've watched the first and second eps as of today and also few clips from the third and omg mingyu and jeonghan drowning in the pond dfuhidfhidfs lmao they're so dumb i love them 🤣 i'm glad they could go away for a few days and spend time together away from their hectic schedules!

I hope you're well now and if not hang in there it'll all pass soon enough! 🥰💕 bye bye!!

p.s.: I got your request for the svt this or that gifset and i promise i’ll do it one day i just don’t feel like giffing these days dhbduusi i’m out of energy

#ask #my super nice lovely anon

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lisarichardsonbylines · 3 years

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How to Tell Your Husband You’re a Witch

Witches we need you. Now more than ever. In the time of COVID-19 we can find respite in place-based reverence, plant magic and the divine feminine. So writes Lisa Richardson, who came to witchiness with nothing but white hetero straight-lacedness and a crush on a yoga teacher.

Lisa Richardson | Longreads | April 2020 | 15 minutes (4,084 words)

On a Friday afternoon, pre-COVID-19, my husband dropped some ice-cubes into glasses, ready to make us screwdrivers and cheers to surviving another week of working/parenting/wondering where the hell the years were going, only, the vodka bottle was empty.

“Oh yeah,” I said, my eyes sliding sideways, trying to not cause a fuss, “I used it for medicine.” The previous week, the kitchen counter had been cluttered with a giant mason jar full of oily plant matter. “Balm of Gilead!” I explained, brightly, as he wiped away the breakfast crumbs around it.

“But what is it?”

“Cottonwood tips in oil.”

His eyes had flicked, then, over to the brand-new bottle of extra virgin olive oil that was now nearly empty, as I enumerated the medicinal benefits of this old herbal remedy (and all this from a tree in our backyard!). Twenty-four years together means I could hear the abacus in his brain clicking, as he wordlessly calculated the cost per milliliter of a gallon jar of plant matter masticating in top-shelf olive oil, against the cost per unit of a bottle of generic aspirin tables, overlaid with the probability of me losing interest in this project.

First the olive oil. Now the vodka for dozens of little jars of tinctures — garden herbs and weeds soaking in now-undrinkable booze. My midlife quest to attune more deeply to the rhythms of the natural world was starting to incur unexpected, but real, costs.

He was quiet, as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer instead.

* * *

In my defense, I could have pointed my finger at Natalie Rousseau, a yoga teacher living in my 5,000 person village, who I’d first encountered leading a solstice yoga class billed as a way to survive the madness of the holidays (in slightly more gracious language). Thanks to her offerings of insight I did survive the commercial horror of the “festive” season, and a few months later, as the new moon entered Aries (whatever that actually means), I plonked down $200 to subscribe to her online 13 Moons course — my foray into “slowing down and being more present,” as I pitched it to my husband when he inquired about the strange entry on the credit card statement.

But I did not deflect the simmering tension between us by naming Natalie as the instigator of these “kitchen witch” experiments. Even though I am not a member of any kind of coven or cult, (I don’t think book club counts), I know deep in my bones to never throw another woman onto the fire for helping you. That has been done too many times.

But there it is. The word. Witch. The wound.

* * *

Every day, after COVID-19 entered our world, Natalie Rousseau has responded with an offering, a teaching — a meditation, an ancient mantra of protection, a yoga practice for managing anxiety, a how-to video on harvesting poplar medicine. It’s as if she’s been resourcing herself for this moment to develop the richest arsenal imaginable, to navigate, not the public health crisis, but the billion personal crises each of us is forced to confront as life as we know it slams into pandemic mode. It’s not what I thought a witch would do, if I ever thought about them at all.

Natalie doesn’t look like a witch either — not in the way I conceived it for last year’s Halloween costume, with my long black skirt, dollar-store pointy hat, and heavy black eyeliner, walking alongside my 6-year-old vampire-werewolf. Natalie is petite, just a few inches over five feet, her long blond hair still evoking the decade she spent living in a west coast surf town, her chest and lean muscled arms bright with full sleeve flowery tattoos and Mary Oliver quotes. She moves like a dancer, demonstrating yoga poses as if she’s transcending gravity. As a teacher, she speaks exactly, even in Sanskrit, and guides movement precisely, padding gently and soundlessly through the room, making an adjustment here, offering an instruction there.

So, I was surprised when she used the word “witch” to launch her new online offering, The Witches Wheel. The lure was irresistible. Natalie was claiming the word “witch” without flinching, without anger, without provocation, not as a way to reclaim feminine power and stick it to the men, warranted as that may be: It was essentially an invitation to observe the cycle of the seasons.

A threshold beckoned.

* * *

Natalie, a recent empty-nester, lives with her husband Paul and two dogs in a modest townhome, with a creek and a dozen rogue gardens installed by various residents running behind it. The garage is full of motorbikes. The porch is swept clean on the day I visit, six months into the 13 Moons program, wanting to talk with her about this radical word and why, in a world still unsure what to do with powerful women, she’s not afraid that she’s exposing herself to pitchforks and fires, haters, and trolls.

Even though I am not a member of any kind of coven or cult, (I don’t think book club counts), I know deep in my bones to never throw another woman onto the fire for helping you. That has been done too many times.

A tea blend of her own mixing — vanilla chaga chai — is brewing on the stove in an open saucepan. She tends to it, as I settle in, sneaking glimpses around the room, looking for evidence of witchcraft — pentagrams, cloaks, bottled frogs. Nothing. The space is uncluttered, a throw-rug on the armchair, a couple of stark white deer skulls are mounted, European-style, on a wall against a reclaimed barn board — definitely more Soho chic than occult-goth. Her husband returns from town, where he has picked up fresh croissants for us. He’s tall and strong, with a tightly cropped red beard — he looks like a guy you’d run into at the gym, at the surf break, at the hardware store.

“So, what’s it like living with a witch?” I ask him as Natalie attends to our tea, a light-hearted question sprouting out of the great compost of fears I am thinking. Is it impossibly hard to be with a woman who comfortably claims her own power, magic, cycles, voice? What kind of a man can love and honor a witch? And lurking deep beneath it all: Will my husband be one of them?

Paul rolls his eyes, overly-dramatically, pointing up to the light fixture in the kitchen — light bulbs housed in mason jars of all sizes, evoking summer cabins and fireflies and Kinfolk magazine dinner party lanterns. “I made this for her because everything ends up in jars. Have you seen inside these cupboards?” He walks around the house, in faux-exasperation, opening doors to reveal neat stacks of jars, full of dried petals, leaves, syrups, tonics, salves, salts. “And there’s more upstairs!” If it hadn’t been for the dinner party they’d hosted the previous night, most of their apartment’s horizontal surfaces would be covered in jars, he tells me, and the front porch would have housed a dead raven and a dead Cooper’s hawk.

“She’s always sending me out in search of dead things,” he jokes. He picks up roadkill in case she can salvage feathers or skulls.

“When he first met me, I was already a skull collector, and now he goes and finds them for me and brings them back,” says Natalie. “He’s gotten really good at living with witchy stuff.”

The two of them are remarkably self-sufficient — an animal lover (“he loves animals more than people”), Paul realized veganism left him tired and undernourished, so took up hunting to procure his own meat humanely; one of the deer skulls mounted on the wall was harvested this fall, its meat now fills their freezer. They grow a garden, wildcraft, eat well. There is an ease between them — a tidal push and pull as they navigate their modest shared space and the morning routine, without evidence of fake niceness, of power trips or struggles.

Witchcraft, in Natalie Rousseau’s mind, is too non-dogmatic and non-hierarchical to submit to a single all-encompassing definition. “As a practice, it’s so highly individual,” she says, “but across the board, it is very place-based, land-based and body-based. For me, it’s about cultivating a relationship with your own body, your own mind, your emotions, and subtle sensing faculties. It’s learning how to trust your intuition. It’s about reclaiming your own instincts, but also being able to feel: this is what stress feels like in my body, this is what relaxation feels like, this is what it feels like to say yes to something out of a sense of obligation or pressure, this is what it feels like to have a boundary. This is what it feels like when I’m safe. These cues come to us from our bodies. It has to be, for it to work well, otherwise, you’re always reaching outside yourself for another authority.”

This is what she wants to help women, particularly, to reclaim: their sense that they are the first authority on themselves, that they can trust their bodies’ wisdom.

“The biggest thing I want to share with people,” says Natalie of her teaching and online courses, “is how to trust themselves. Everyone can very easily make the medicines that their household would need for common household complaints — colds and flus and chest colds and menstrual cramps — so many basic things that anyone can make very simply, quite affordably. I’m not anti-pharmaceutical. There are many medications people have to take daily to live. And if I have a serious infection, I’m going to take antibiotics; if I am seriously ill, I am going to go to the doctor; if I have any kind of trauma, I’m going to be so grateful for that form of medicine. But I believe the role kitchen medicine has is in the maintenance and prevention of illness.”

One of her biggest laments, though, as she makes videos and handouts and shares them with her online community, is that even people who have paid to do her course don’t feel that they have the time to take it into their kitchens. “Making a tincture is literally pouring vodka over plant materials and leaving it on your counter for four weeks!” she says. But it is easier for most people to just buy one online and have it delivered to their doorstep. “I am saddened by how easily women give their power over. This is the biggest thing I’ve noticed as a teacher in the past couple of years — how quickly women will say, ‘but how do you do this? I don’t know how to do this! I’m afraid to try this because I might not be good at it, I might be doing it wrong. I’m an imposter.’ I really struggle with this. Where is it coming from?”

But she knows. We have relinquished our power, over a thousand years or more, of wounding, of witch-burnings, of patriarchy either convincing us we have none or forcibly stripping it away, (hello Harvey Weinstein), until all we feel empowered to do, now, in 2020, is consume. And we’ve been doing that with all our might.

We override the listening, we ignore the nudges, we push through, like good soldiers. “Most people are running so hard,” observes Natalie. “Our culture is so focussed on productivity. We are so overly heroic — it’s all or nothing. I can’t do something unless I’m an expert. I don’t want to try. But this is a craft. It’s a path of education.”

Natalie’s invitation is gentle, and she’s crafted her online course to serve that: Start with one plant and learn its taste, its smell. Spend five minutes a day on meditation or in conscious ritual and begin to notice what’s going on in your nervous system, in your mind, in your body.

“When he first met me, I was already a skull collector, and now he goes and finds them for me and brings them back,” says Natalie. “He’s gotten really good at living with witchy stuff.”

Don’t get so distracted by the word witch, that you fail to notice that it is connected to craft. Witchcraft, for Natalie, is a path of learning “how to trust and problem solve, from within, knowing that we are in a system of power that, for better, for worse, will strip us of any ability to trust ourselves and to always feel empty so we have to keep buying more stuff.”

When she says this, a deep thrill of recognition hums in me, accompanied by a shiver of fear. Those are revolutionary things to say out loud, to cast into the open air. I recognize it viscerally as the kind of talk that gets people in trouble.

* * *

Last summer, before I met Natalie, I had stepped from my backyard patio stones onto freshly cut grass and spied the sinuous form of a wandering garter snake. I leaned in quickly, excitedly, about to call my 6-year-old over to glimpse the garden visitor before it shimmied away. But it was eerily still. Ugly slash wounds marked its body. It was dead. Innocent victim to the ride-on lawnmower. Obliterated by our oblivion.

“Oh no,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry!”

I had already begun to wake up to the natural world, it’s rhythms, it’s offerings of medicine, it’s otherness, but it had come with a shadow side, a growing despair at what we were doing to the world. Even without a malicious intention, I was causing death and destruction — just mowing the lawn, drinking my coffee, wiping my ass: My actions, all our human activity, had compounding impacts that were destroying the snakes, the ocean, the atmosphere, the forests, the icecaps — beyond repair.

I wanted my garden to be a habitat. I wanted the bees to waggle-dance directions to my sunflowers to their hive-mates, I wanted the wandering garter snakes to nest in their hibernacula through the winter and bask in the long grass in the summer, I wanted to lie on my back and watch butterflies dance through the flowers and the hummingbirds zoom in and out, I wanted to inhabit innocence again.

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. My penitence froze me in place, scared to make a move for fear of ruining something else. Then, regret overriding my squeamishness, I fetched the flat-bladed shovel and edged it under the dead snake. I carried her body over to the vegetable patch, and in a space between the beds, where the mower never goes, I laid her down. I picked marigolds and calendula from around the garden, where they’d been planted to keep the snails away, and lay the bright orange blossoms in a circle around her.

Grandmother snake, I whispered, hoping that some force that exists beyond the definitively dead snake at my feet, might spread the word among the entire species, “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean it. I will try to be more careful.”

It was a made-up ritual, the kind that a kid might perform deep in her dream world at the bottom of the garden, and it made my 44 year-old-self feel a little bit better. At least I’d made a gesture of repair, had expressed my desire to return into balance with the living world around me. If it had any effect, I’d never know. I went back inside, said nothing.

A few days later, out in the garden, my husband tripped over the skeleton of a decomposing snake, ringed by wilted flowers, half consumed by ants.

“That was spooky,” he confronted me. “What’s going on? Are you some kind of witch?”

* * *

Natalie has always been comfortable with the word. Now she’s having fun inviting people to consider the archetype, circle it, unpack it, stumble upon some kind of recognition: Wait a second! Maybe I am a witch!

“It’s cool how people in the western world can take a description that has been used mostly as a slur, and turn it around to use as something empowering,” she says.

For thousands of years, witch was a term used to incite violence against women. By the most conservative estimates, half a million people, mostly women, were executed in the European witch craze between 1300 and 1650. Accusations of witchcraft were used against women, says Rousseau, “in ways that were extremely dangerous and terrifying. It was really about getting power from them, and getting land back. So, to use a word like that in an empowered way, even today, you have to know you’re safe to do it. And it’s important to realize that in many places in the world, it’s still not safe for women to say that. But if we can, in safe places, take that word and turn it around, that, to me, is extremely powerful.”

I wanted the bees to waggle-dance directions to my sunflowers to their hive-mates, I wanted the wandering garter snakes to nest in their hibernacula through the winter and bask in the long grass in the summer, I wanted to lie on my back and watch butterflies dance through the flowers and the hummingbirds zoom in and out, I wanted to inhabit innocence again.

Natalie herself embodies empowerment. Not in the traditional way I have come to recognize power — as someone standing over, dominating someone else, her source of power comes from within.

She doesn’t need to take any from her partner.

“Do you find this relationship at all emasculating?” I joke to Natalie’s husband.

“I don’t. Not at all. No,” he replies.

“We’ve always given each other space to be ourselves.”

But that’s not always a guarantee of safety.

If it is dangerous to be an empowered woman in the world, then it’s dangerous, too, for the men who love them.

Lyla June Johnston is an author and activist of Diné and European heritage. Her inquiry into her disowned European heritage led to a realization: The millions of women burned alive, drowned alive, dismembered alive, beaten, raped and otherwise tortured as so-called, “witches,” were not witches at all. They were the medicine people of old Europe. Her lens, as a contemporary indigenous woman, and as a survivor of sexual violence, helped her identify that those were the women who understood the herbal medicines, the ones who prayed with stones, the ones who passed on sacred chants. And the all-out warfare of the witch burnings didn’t just harm the women. It had a profound effect on the men who loved them, their husbands, sons, brothers. She recognizes the echo of this in the story of her own time, of her own people. “Nothing makes a man go mad like watching the women of his family get burned alive. If the men respond to this hatred with hatred, the hatred is passed on. And who can blame them? While peace and love are the correct response to hatred, it is not an easy response by any means.”

How many men have kept their women down, tried to keep them at home, have become the handcuffs that the women fought against because they were answering to their own unarticulated primal instinct to keep them safe?

Natalie Rousseau speculates, “I am sure historically you had lots of husbands telling their wives to tone it down, not because they didn’t respect their power, but because they were genuinely afraid. I’d apply that to any women described as uppity — getting involved politically, or getting involved in local stuff that’s happening, fighting for the environment: Stop getting noticed so much. This could be dangerous.”

Some dangers are too great to be able to protect each other from. And so we turn the fight on each other — little domestic power-trips that distract us from the fact that we’ve relinquished all our power any way to the Great Machine.

* * *

My tentative inquiries into witchcraft, becoming fluent in my own moods and emotions, and paying attention to the seasons, barely prepared me for the abrupt slow-the-fuck-down order that came when COVID-19 landed in British Columbia, in my village, as school broke for spring break. The emergency handbrake was pulled. Everything came to a squealing stop — all my plans, canceled; all the stores, closing; the whole damn world, under house arrest and in a panic. The whiplash from the stunning speed of that shift has left my whole being hypersensitive to any sudden movement, to being jerked around. But the first things I have staked my trust in, in that space of uncertainty, were Natalie’s teachings: First, trust your body. Pause. Listen.

In self-imposed isolation with my husband and just-turned-7-year-old, I dance with anxiety and curiosity and disconnection and too-much-information. The well-trodden pathways we have all been racing along, flexing our power and exercising our entitlements as consumers, are suddenly bordered up with emergency tape. This invitation that Natalie has been dripping out, month after month, takes root. There is far more potency available to us, than shopping, driving, holidaying, consuming, endlessly moving around the planet.

There is potency in all the feelings that have been showing up at my door. Oh, good morning frustration. Ah grief, yes, I suppose you’d like a cup of tea. Hello there, existential terror, I wondered when you’d pop by. There is potency in sitting with my back against a huge cedar tree and listening, in slowing down so much that I can give my 7-year-old my full attention. There is potency even in my words, when I soothe him down from a tantrum by saying, “you know, this is a really hard time for everyone in the whole world right now because no one knows what’s going to happen and no one can play with their friends. I’m really proud of you.” And I can feel his body relax into this space of being acknowledged in his struggles and his efforts.

I don’t know if there are any medicinal properties in the tincture of St John’s Wort and valerian that I drop into water and hand my husband, to gentle his nervous system. Or in the jar of immune-boosting oxymel, that I brewed up with grated ginger and turmeric and orange peel, and shake every day. But even if it’s a placebo, there’s a relief for me in feeling I can do something, can offer my people some kind of healing intention in a little glass, that I can acknowledge that this is hard for my husband too, and that acknowledgment isn’t a concession that takes away from my own sense of struggle.

For decades, we’ve bought into the illusion that our power is as consumers. Now that stores are closing and the shelves are emptying and we have to stay home and not immediately indulge every whim that arises, we all feel powerless. But that was never our truest source of power. There’s another source that we can all plug back into, our deep relationship and interbeing with the life force. Maybe, this is our threshold moment. Maybe, this is a chance to craft a few little spells, to speak the words of the world we long to inhabit — a place where the currency of kindness and wonder flow, where humans return to a deep memory of belonging among the plants and creatures, and to brew up a cup of tea, light a candle, and dream it into existence. Maybe it’s an invitation to say, “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to, I will try and be more careful,” and to build a little altar, even if you feel kind of cray cray doing it. Let your nervous system settle as you invent some small ritual, (just ask your inner 5-year-old for guidance, she probably remembers exactly what to do), and make a gesture of repair.

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my Apocalypse team,” I tell my husband, the night the global virus countertops 400,000. He’s been chopping wood, auditing the pantry, getting our kid across the finish line of the LEGO project that has absorbed him for four days. My husband was a farm kid. He’s always been practical, my polar opposite. Even when we have battled each other, (am I giving up too much of my power to him? If I acknowledge his pain and his needs, will that cancel mine out?) I’ve always known he would do anything to keep me safe. “Not that I can request an upgrade now,” I joke. “But I bet you’re glad to be stuck with me. One always wants a daydreamer at your side in a pinch.”

“Oh yeah,” he spoofs me: “’ The stock market is collapsing, let me just go check my Tarot cards.’”

We laugh. And hold each other. We can’t buy our way out of this. None of us. Our entire species, our global community, is being vividly reminded that we are all in this together, inextricably connected, epidemiologically entwined, in our vulnerability and our sweet potential. We didn’t need Amazon and airlines and online shopping to know what the witches have been telling us all this time. All the power we need is right here — between us, around us, within us. We just have to remember it.

* * *

Lisa Richarson

is a senior contributor to Coast Mountain Culture magazine and a columnist for Pique newsmagazine and edits the hyperlocal websites,

TheWellnessAlmanac.com

and

TracedElements.com.

She’s deep into a decade-long mission to slow the fuck down, but still optimize life for happiness and productivity. Born and raised in Australia, she has lived as a guest on the unceded territory of the Líl̓wat Nation since a ski vacation went rogue 20-odd years ago.

Editor: Carolyn Wells

Posted by

Lisa Richardson

April 8, 2020

https://longreads.com/2020/04/08/how-to-tell-your-husband-youre-a-witch/

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