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kenbunshokus · 3 years

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eggnemies to lovers

nami/vivi, zoro/sanji | 7k words (best viewed on: ao3)

My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie. submitted 6 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

(Or, the one where Sanji is a diner cook, Vivi is their waitress, and Zoro and Nami accidentally became each other’s wingman.)

Zoro glares at his plate as if his omelette has just challenged him to a duel. Nami tries her best to focus on the map she’s working on—this one’s a particularly difficult homework from her Intro to Coastal Navigation class—and pointedly does not look up.

“Holy shit,” Zoro mutters under his breath, poking at the offending egg, “Nami, I swear—”

“We are not having this conversation again—”

“I told you,” Zoro plows on, “that fucking cook is doing this on purpose.”

Nami takes a deep breath. Cartography is a delicate art, and Nami aims to be a professional. She takes her favorite pencil and elegantly traces over the coastline of Cocoyashi Village, poised and collected and calm. She’s not going to take the bait and ruin her map, no matter how much Zoro is sulking over an egg—

She sighs. “Zoro, I’m pretty sure there’s just been some mix-up with the orders.”

Zoro huffs at that, clearly disbelieving. “For the third time this week?”

“This isn’t exactly a five-star establishment,” she points out, and adds, reasonably, calmly, in an attempt to find some semblance of peace, “I doubt the cook of some no-name diner even knows your name.”

The words seem to have brought about the opposite effect, because now there’s a dangerous glint in Zoro’s eyes as he mutters, “well, he’s about to find out,” before standing up and shamelessly yelling, “ OI! COOK! ”

Nami drives the pencil through her map.

r/relationship_advice

My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie. submitted 6 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

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My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie.

submitted 6 months ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

I know this sounds really weird, but here it is:

This guy and I have been on a couple of dates. We’d been friends long before we started trying this going out thing, so he isn’t a total stranger to me, and I’ve long known him as a pretty calm guy. Chimes in once a week in the group chat, grunts a lot during conversations, you know — one of those quiet, meditating types. He’s only competitive when it comes to his favorite sport (he’s a professional kendo athlete), but other than that he tends not to care about what other people think about him. I’ve never seen him respond to anyone’s taunts or getting worked up by a stranger’s words.

Except at Baratie.

Any time we’re out he wants to go to this diner called Baratie down in Grand Line. I don’t really care about the food, but the tables there are big enough for me to do work (Maritime Science major here—lots of stationeries and large maps to work with). But that became impossible once he and this one cook started chirping at each other every time we went there. Date complained about his eggs one time, because he likes them a little runny and they were served hard. The cook responded by giving him scrambled eggs. When he brought it up again, the cook served him two hardboiled eggs. It was kind of funny to be honest, but my date wasn’t able to laugh it off. When we left, he was in a bad mood.

This is the crazy part: he keeps going back.

In fact, he keeps going back and ordering eggs and getting into fistfights with the same cook. It’s almost a ritual at this point. He orders runny eggs, the cook serves him some other version of eggs, and then they beat the shit out of each other. We never eat out at any other places now; it’s just Baratie every fucking week. Sometimes he even goes there without me.

I’ve tried to talk to him about it a few times, but he keeps saying it’s a matter of principle. I’ve told him to just talk to the manager, but he just waved me off. Apparently that cook hasn’t yet made him the correct runny eggs, but it’s like he spends the week learning new ways of preparing eggs to piss my date off.

My question is — this is weird, right? Like, I’m not really concerned about the fighting part — he’s never been physical with me and I never once felt threatened by him — but what’s with the obsession ? They’re just eggs, aren’t they?

Is this indicative of something deeper? Should I reconsider going exclusive with this guy?

When Nami looks up from her map this time, Zoro has already stalked off to the kitchen. This isn’t new or remarkable in any way, except the fact that he almost ran into one of the waitresses, who immediately clutched her tray against her chest and watched his retreating back warily.

Zoro didn’t even spare her a glance. What a brute. Nami’s going to add to his debt later for that.

“Hey,” Nami calls out towards the waitress, waving at her to come by her table, “I’m sorry, uh…”

“Vivi,” the waitress fills in with a polite smile.

“Right, Vivi—I’m Nami,” Nami replies, finding herself nervous all of a sudden, because up close like this, holy fuck is the waitress so pretty, with long blue hair and silver-sharp eyes. Nami clears her throat. “Uh, I just want to say sorry about his—his whole deal with your Cook. Zoro—that’s his name—he’s usually really chill, so I don’t know what’s happening here.”

Vivi thankfully chuckles at that, seemingly finding the situation more hilarious than threatening. Good. There’s also something about that laughter that makes Nami feel like she’s fourteen again, full of butterflies and all too small for everything, but she tries not to think too hard about that yet.

“In your friend’s defense,” Vivi says, “Sanji is usually really good with memorizing orders, so he’s totally messing with your friend on purpose.”

As if on cue, the cook’s voice—Sanji’s—rings out from the kitchen. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, MOSSHEAD, I TOLD YOU THE KITCHEN’S OFF LIMITS FOR CUSTOMERS —”

Nami finds herself laughing with Vivi. “You know, it’s actually impressive that Zoro doesn’t get lost on his way to the kitchen anymore.”

Vivi raises her eyebrow. “Nami, the kitchen door is right there.”

“It’s Zoro,” Nami presses, because it’s always fun to see strangers learn about Zoro’s disastrous relationship with directions and maps for the first time. “One time, during our junior high sports festival, he got lost on the running track. For a hundred-meter race .”

That earns her another laugh from Vivi as she takes a seat beside Nami, body leaning forward in curiosity, “really? Is he short-sighted or something? Can’t he just—I don’t know, literally see the finish line?”

“Here’s the thing you need to know about Zoro,” Nami begins, and watching the way Vivi’s soft hair falls over the slope of her shoulder, bright blue and blinding despite the dim lighting of the diner, Nami somehow can’t find it in herself to be mad at Zoro anymore.

u/salveshine • 492 points 6 months ago

This seems like an obvious question, but I have to ask: have you considered going somewhere else for your dates? Most people don’t go to a diner for dates in the first place.

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 23 points 6 months ago

Well, as I said on the original post, it’s downright an obsession at this point. Asking him to go somewhere else doesn’t solve the problem since he’d just go there on his own on a different day.

Also, the waitress there is nice. She’s been keeping me company throughout this whole thing. She’s a godsend.

Vivi appears by her table as soon as Zoro disappears into the kitchen.

“Again?” Vivi asks by way of greeting.

“Again,” Nami agrees, scooting to the side of her bench to give Vivi space to sit. “It’s eggs benedict this time. Perfectly poached. I went to this fancy restaurant a few weeks ago, and they didn’t even make it this good.”

Somewhere from what presumably is the kitchen, Zoro’s frustrated voice echoes throughout the whole diner. “Now you’re not even serving me eggs anymore!”

“What are you—“ there is a moment of stunned silence before Sanji‘s reply comes, equally loud, dripped with utter disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? You thought this wasn’t made of—you’ve never seen scotch eggs before?”

“SHUT UP,” Zoro yells back.

Nami cranes her neck out of instinct, wishing to catch a glimpse of the scene from the window behind the counter—she’s never heard Zoro sounding so flustered before—but Vivi’s voice, small and low and far from the confident tone Nami has started to get used to, pulls her attention back.

“I’m sorry.”

It takes another moment before the words fully register in her brain. “Wh—for what?”

“I mean,” Vivi says, twiddling with her fingers as she mumbles, “this is supposed to be your date.”

“My date?” The question already falls out of her mouth before she realizes, oh. Oh. This is supposed to be a date, because her and Zoro are…well. Sometimes she doesn’t even remember that part—they’re certainly not acting the part, considering they’re hanging out with other people during these ‘dates’. Nami understands, rationally, that she should be mad about this; and yet— “It’s fine. I’m not that bothered.”

Vivi blinks. “You’re not?”

“Nah,” Nami says, waving her hand dismissively, feeling as surprised as Vivi looks. “Well, when it comes down to it, it’s still free food, you know? Could’ve been better—no offense, but a family diner isn’t exactly date material—but considering the menu and ingredients you guys have to work with? Sanji’s practically been making feasts fit for royalty here.”

“Well, I still think you deserve to be treated better during a date,” Vivi crosses her arms and—is that a pout on her face? “Don’t you feel a bit lonely?”

“No?” Nami replies, taken aback. That’s literally the furthest thing on her mind, because— “I have you, don’t I?”

Nami feels her face heat up as soon as the words left her mouth, because that sounded way more presumptuous than she intended. She meant to say, I have you to keep me company , like a friend , in a totally friend platonic way. Except they were talking about dates in a decidedly very romantic way and she should totally take it back—

Vivi beams at that, the kind that makes her look like she’s glowing inside her skin, and never mind, Nami’s not taking it back. Nope. She’s never taking it back even if someone’s paying her a million berries to take it back.

Vivi takes Nami’s hand from the table and holds it in both of her own, and Nami’s heart trips in her chest.

“Yeah,” Vivi says, the words sending a low hum under Nami’s ribcage. “Yeah, you have me.”

/u/mettlemental • 301 points 5 months ago

This is their ritual. Do not interfere.

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 279 points 5 months ago

You know what, I think you have a point. This thing between me and the waitress is also a ritual now, so we’re even.

“Shishishi!” Luffy laughs, eyes practically sparkling. “Sanji is so cool!”

“No he’s not!” Zoro pinches Luffy by the cheek to try to drag him away from Sanji. “I brought you here to defend me!”

“But Sanji’s the one making me delicious meat right now,” Luffy pouts, seemingly unperturbed by the potential disfigurement of his own face, gaze still rooted on Sanji—or, more specifically, the food Sanji is carrying on a tray. “What can you make, Zoro?”

Sanji lights up his cigarette, expression hidden behind his hands, but his whole body visibly puffs up like a peacock. Nami notices how the tips of his ears have turned red. “Finally, someone with taste.”

Zoro tries to grab the tray away from Sanji’s hand, and Nami watches Vivi masterfully maneuver between the messy cacophony of the trio, placing a tall stack of waffles in front of Chopper.

“This doesn’t make me happy at all!” Chopper says, his words nowhere near convincing, considering he’s saying it with the largest grin Nami has ever seen on a fourteen-year-old. “Did Sanji make this one, too?”

“He did,” Vivi says as she takes a seat beside Nami, as she always does. The table settles into a comfortable silence as Chopper digs into his waffles and Vivi absentmindedly plays with the salt shaker, observing the idiot trio from a distance.

“They sure get along fast,” Nami says as she takes out her cartography tools, and Vivi’s gaze sweeps between Luffy, Chopper, and the maps on the table.

“You’re not even trying to have a date anymore, aren’t you,” she points out.

“Nope,” Nami agrees, gesturing to Chopper with her pencil. “Chopper here wanted to try the waffle for a long time ever since I told him all about Sanji.”

“Please tell Sanji I love it!” Chopper adds around a mouthful of sugar.

“And Luffy’s been really curious about you two anyways.”

One table away, Luffy took the last bite of whatever meal Sanji just served, and dramatically announces, “this one’s better than the last one!”

“You always say that after every plate,” Sanji mumbles, but shoves another plate towards the kid anyways, clearly preening from the praises.

“It wasn’t even that good,” Zoro adds desperately, and scowls when Sanji chooses to watch Luffy eat another serving with the same gusto like he did the first one. “Oi—don’t ignore me, Shit Cook!”

It’s...fascinating. Nami never had a habit of watching Zoro—those activities are reserved for those fangirls in their university who barely know him—but she finds herself unable to look away whenever they’re at the Baratie. Whenever he’s with Sanji, to be precise. The chef seems to have brought out so many different sides of Zoro she’s never seen before in all the years she’s known him, and that’s saying a lot, considering she’s known Zoro for a decade.

Zoro has always been a steady presence in her and Luffy’s life ever since he moved into their neighborhood when she was shy of turning ten; he is strong-willed and loyal and eternally dependable, like a safe place they can always come back to. He can be a little hard to read, quiet and reserved as he is, but these days Nami knows where to look, the telltales hidden in the way he straightens his back and carries himself.

But with Sanji, Zoro is—he’s all those things still, sure. But he’s also— so much more. There’s suddenly this— kid, lively and boyish and so, so easy to read. Open book, heart on his sleeve. He grins and yells and throws his punches, and Sanji would take them in stride and return them as easily. This Zoro pouts when Sanji doesn’t pay him attention, and scowls when he does; and when Sanji makes him laugh, it’s a loud, open thing.

Sometimes it feels as if the Zoro she knew was an impostor all along. As if there was a pale imitation of Roronoa Zoro with a ghost of a smile, and he’d only come alive in the middle of a fucking diner.

And the worst part of it all is—

“You two?” Vivi suddenly mumbles, seemingly to herself.

Nami tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“You were saying something about Luffy being curious about… us two ,” Vivi says. There’s an odd, pensive look on her face. “Are you talking about Sanji and…”

“You, of course!” Nami cuts in, perplexed.

“You told your friends about me?” Vivi wonders, and it’s baffling. Of course Nami told her friends about Vivi. Sometimes Nami thinks Vivi is all she could talk about. She’s hilarious and smart and a thousand times more interesting to talk about than Sanji and Zoro combined.

That’s a really weird thing to suddenly spring on someone though, so Nami instead says, “Vivi, you’re the best thing about these weekly visits, because that sure as hell isn’t.”

She’s pointing at the dumbass trio; somewhere along the way, Luffy has seemed to fall asleep, and Sanji is smiling at the boy’s sleeping form, looking very pleased with himself. Zoro is fuming behind him, arms crossed and chest puffed, like a child being forced to share his favorite toy.

Vivi laughs at the sight, shaking her head. “Well, boys will be boys.”

The words bury itself uncomfortably in the pit of Nami’s stomach.

Boys will be boys—which is why sometimes (oftentimes, many times, always) Nami thinks she’s much more easily enamored with girls. Nami supposes there is a certain charm in Zoro’s brutish ways, but she’s beginning to learn that it may not be for her—Nami appreciates people who can hold their own in a fistfight, but there is also strength in reigning yourself in despite the circumstances, the way she’s seen Vivi handle difficult customers with a firm tone, graceful and dangerous at the same time.

(What could this mean, then? For her, for them—)

Zoro and Sanji have started fighting animatedly again. Roronoa Zoro, his heart on his sleeve.

And the worst part is that Nami doesn’t even care.

/u/sorcatarius • 334 points 4 months ago

I usually appreciate it when OP updates their posts with recent developments because I’m one of those people who get easily invested in a stranger’s life story, but is it just me or do all of these updates seem irrelevant? Most of them are about the waitress. I feel like I’m learning nothing about the actual date here. Who’s dating who again?

/u/NeonRain15• 137 points 4 months ago

OP is clearly a troll lol.

They are sitting at a corner table in front of the door to the kitchen, because Franky and Robin aren’t even pretending they’re here for the food instead of a show. Usopp told them he would rather ‘see where the danger is coming from ’, but Nami suspects the real reason is something closer to morbid curiosity.

Nami doesn’t fault them. It certainly is hard to look away from what those two clowns are currently doing: Zoro is waving a spatula and a frying pan like he would his kendo swords, clearly breaking several kitchen-related OSHA rules in the process; Sanji puts out his cigarette against the counter—seriously, has nobody here heard of proper kitchen etiquette—and swings his leg in a drop kick.

There’s a loud CLANK as his shoe comes into contact with the pan.

Franky whistles. “That’s super awesome, bro!” He cheers, before turning back to the table with a lower voice, “Seriously, how have they not fired Sanji-bro already?”

“Other than the fact that he’s overqualified as hell?” Usopp asks in between spoonfuls of Sanji’s fried rice.

“Well, they do provide a wonderful source of entertainment for us customers,” Robin observes.

“Sure thing,” Franky replies, “but they’re totally destroying kitchen appliances right now, I mean, look at that roller. There’s no way any normal wood could withstand that —there it goes.”

“Let them be—what’s the worst that could happen?” Robin muses. “Other than a kitchen accident that leads to a gas explosion and the restaurant burning down to the ground, obliterating all of us in the process, of course.”

“Robin,” Usopp squeaks.

Inside the kitchen, the tables have turned—Sanji has somehow regained possession of his kitchen appliances, and he’s now teaching Zoro how to cook. They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent over the stove, and Sanji would occasionally wrap his hand around Zoro’s wrist to instruct him.

Zoro looks like he’s going to spontaneously combust. His eyes are darting between Sanji’s hands (still lightly gripping Zoro’s wrist), Sanji’s face (dangerously close to Zoro’s own), and Sanji’s lips (there’s something there, something he wants to do and Nami knows if she thinks hard enough she can put a name on it) —anywhere but the food they’re actually cooking. Zoro’s own face is now redder than the tomatoes lining up the kitchen counter.

Heart on his sleeve, Nami thinks. Open book, open book.

“I’m going to get some refills,” she announces, suddenly feeling like she’s intruding on something private and practically leaps towards the soda station. She could feel a pair of curious eyes on her back—Robin’s, no doubt—but she’s more distracted by another presence currently standing beside her.

“Hey,” Vivi says, voice light, teasing. She’s carrying a lot of cups on her, presumably the others’, and she bumps her shoulder against Nami’s playfully. Nami could feel the touch fizzle against her skin.

“Hey,” Nami replies, trying to pretend that the close proximity doesn’t bother her at all. “‘Sup?”

Vivi wordlessly helps her with the drinks, and they easily fall into comfortable silence, filling cups after cups, until Vivi nudges her again. “You know, Usopp was right about Sanji being overqualified.”

Nami fills Franky’s cup slower, wondering where the conversation is going. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, I have a secret,” Vivi says, tone playful, but when Nami looks up there’s something in her eyes. “Actually, I own this place.”

Nami stops filling the cup. “What?”

“I mean, it’s mostly on loan, and I’m not halfway done with the payments, but technically, yeah,” Vivi says, tucking her hair to the back of her ear in a nervous gesture. “I didn’t really want to tell anyone because it’s not like I wanted a special treatment from the patrons. And I am effectively a waitress here.”

Nami is suddenly reminded of all the instances when she called Baratie a no-name diner right to Vivi’s face, and feels her stomach sink. Holy shit, she called it a dumpster fire just last week.

Vivi must have noticed Nami’s mental breakdown, because she quickly waves her hand and laughs. “No, no, don’t worry about it—I know we’re still a work in progress. Especially ever since—”

Vivi trails off at that, suddenly looking unsure. She starts collecting all the cups, like she’s giving Nami a reason to back out of the conversation. “It’s kind of a boring life story, actually, I’m sorry for dumping that all to you out of the blue—”

“Vivi,” Nami says, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t usually do this; she knows, better than most, how heavy one’s past could be, and she hates it when people try to pry into hers. But Vivi is looking at her with sad eyes and unsteady hands, and suddenly Nami wants nothing other than to tell her, “I’ll drop this if you don’t want to talk about it, but remember this: I will always want to know more about you.”

She places her hand on Vivi's arm, for emphasis. “I will always want to support you.”

It takes a moment before her words sink in, and Nami could see the moment it does, Vivi’s eyes widening in surprise as her face breaks into a slow-starting smile. “Thank you, Nami,” she whispers, and it’s almost reverent.

Nami’s gaze falls onto Vivi’s lips, and suddenly it’s become very difficult to maintain a conversation.

She wonders how she’d look now, to an outsider. Flushed face and a stupid smile on her face, hands fidgeting with her own hair. Open book, open book . Could they hear, she wonders, the way her heart is hammering against her ribcage—would they find out—

Robin claps her hands together, snapping Nami out of her reverie. The whole group is already standing by the door, waiting for her, and god, how long have they been talking by the soda station again?

“Perhaps we can take the drinks another day. Time to go home, don’t you think?” Robin suggests. Her tone is light, but her gaze is heavy, and Nami has to resist the urge to curl into herself.

Zoro still stares at the kitchen, oblivious to the tension. “Yeah,” he says, almost in a daze. “ Shit — yeah.”

Shit, indeed.

/u/Lanzifer• 975 points 5 months ago

This is a love story.

/u/nashdezus • 307 points 3 months ago

I hate to break it to you but I think your boyfriend is in love with the cook. If this is fake you have written one of the greatest gay romances of this generation, if this isn’t fake I dunno what.

/u/ParkNight • 399 points 3 months ago

Your BF needs to cut to the chase and invite the cook over to your place for some eggs and rough sex.

/u/Cod3Man • 760 points 4 months ago

He has a crush on the cook & vice versa but they’re both living a lie so they fight because it’s the only way to release the sexual tension. Every different way of cooking an egg represents a different sex act.

/u/jakubada • 523 points 3 months ago

Girl, not to wish ill will on your relationship, but you should bang that waitress instead.

“Have you ever heard of Baroque Works?”

Nami pauses. She places her pencil away, knowing that Vivi deserves nothing less than her full attention.

It’s only been a couple of days since the conversation she had with Vivi, but Nami can’t get her mind off of it. She’s been coming to Baratie every single day now after college, and it’s just so convenient that Zoro suddenly refuses to go. It’s simply harder to have Vivi open up when someone else is around, and not because there are other reasons. Like wanting Vivi all to herself. No sire.

She shakes herself out of the dangerous train of thoughts. “Baroque Works? Isn’t that the new restaurant chain down the block? It’s the one that’s taken over that other chain, right? Uh, what was it called—”

“Alabasta,” Vivi supplies, before sighing. “That’s the chain my family used to own.”

Nami blinks. “Wait, you used to own Alabasta?”

Running a diner on her own at her age is already an impressive feat in and of itself, but Alabasta is a whole different beast. It’s a nation-wide chain with dozens of restaurants, and owning the chain is probably equivalent to owning a small empire.

“Oh, no, I mean, my family did,” Vivi quickly adds, ever humble. “It’s not exactly anything impressive. My grandfather ran the business before my father did, and his father was the one who started it—it was passed down the generations, and I was simply born into it.

“As you said, Alabasta went down a few years ago because my father struck a bad deal with a ruthless businessman. It is clear now, in hindsight, that Crocodile was tricking us, but we were naive and perhaps a little too eager to expand. Baroque Works took over, and we were left with the only branch they deemed the least profitable—here.”

“And you renamed it to Baratie?”

“That was Sanji’s idea,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips; it is clearly a much fonder memory than what that businessman—Crocodile—did to her and her family. “At the time, Sanji just moved to Grand Line. His father had a restaurant back in East Blue with the same name, and he told me he would help me build everything back from the ground up. We would borrow the name, acting like we’re a branch of Baratie, and I can rename it back to Alabasta once I can settle all the legalities with Baroque Works.”

Everything slowly falls into place now—the way Sanji is clearly trained to cook dishes much more sophisticated than waffles and scrambled eggs, the freedom he gets to be able to mess around with Zoro, and his close camaraderie with Vivi.

Nami feels a pang of—god, jealousy, if she dares to put a name on it—towards Sanji; for being able to stand by Vivi’s side when she needed it the most. It’s silly, because Sanji has always been kind to her, and it’s not like it was Sanji’s fault that Nami didn’t know Vivi until recently, but the feeling gripped her like a vice anyway, heavy and suffocating.

Vivi seems to have taken her silence wrongly, though, because she looks away, almost shamefully. “You must think this is all stupid.”

“Of course not,” Nami immediately retorts without missing a beat. She thinks of Bellemere, holding her head high despite the judgments from the neighbors. She was alone and penniless, countless doors slammed close in her face just because she was a single mother; but none of that stopped Bellemere from sending Nojiko and Nami to the best school in the neighborhood

So Nami tells Vivi what she has always wanted to tell Bellemere, and what she knows to be true of Vivi, of any women in her life who has never backed down from adversity— “You’re amazing.”

Vivi blinks, cheeks coloring at the words. It takes her a moment before she can reply with a shaky, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Vivi, you’re—” Nami turns her body to face Vivi fully, grabbing her by the arms, “—you’re the strongest, most hard-working person I’ve ever known. Most people in your shes would’ve turned tails and run.”

Vivi flushes further. It’s the first time Nami has seen her flustered, really cute, actually. And the fact that Nami is the one who put that expression on her face —

“Are we intruding on something?”

Nami almost jumps from her seat, suddenly feeling like she’s five again, getting caught with her hand halfway into the cookie jar. Vivi is scrambling to her feet from her side, cleaning imaginary dust from her uniform as she stammers, “no, of course not! I’m sorry, sir—sirs , can I take your order?”

Nami looks up to see Jinbe laugh and wave at her, signaling her to calm down. Brook is standing right behind him, giving Nami a small wave. “What do you serve?”

Nami tries to return to her map as Vivi starts rattling off the menu, but Brook—wise, old Brook, with his soft voice and observing eyes, goes, “No Zoro this time around, hm?”

Her pen stills. There’s nothing accusatory in Brook’s voice—he would never, none of their friends would never. But she waits for Vivi to be off with their orders still before replying, arms crossed across her chest almost defensively. “What is it to you, old man?”

She realizes a little too late that it’s an awfully rude response, but Jinbe simply laughs. “Old men, aren’t we, Brook?”

“Certainly older than most,” Brook agrees, eyes shining in mirth, not offended the least. “Hopefully wiser, too.”

“Well, sometimes,” Jinbe says, turning to Nami, “old men like us have the fortune—or the misfortune, some may say—to have loved and lost.”

Nami isn’t quite sure where the conversation is going, but there’s grief carried by Jinbe’s voice, and what comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all long past, miss,” Jinbe dismisses, not unkindly. “More importantly, what I’m trying to ay is, you and Zoro might have been looking at the wrong places. Love, that is. But there is time to rectify this—isn’t that what you young people have? Time”

Nami sits still, stupefied.

She has the suspicion that Robin knows, but Robin has always had her ways. For Jinbe to notice? Jinbe, who would rather talk about his fishing trips than to gossip? How obvious has she been?

(Open book, the thought resurfaces, unbidden. Heart on her sleeve—)

“Though, Nami?” Brook suddenly says, snapping Nami out of her own reverie.

She suddenly realizes that it’s just the two of them on the table, Jinbe already wandering around after imparting her with some advices. She clears her throat, trying to get her bearings. “Yeah?”

“I have to disagree with our dear Jinbe, I must say. We have loved and lost, but,” he takes her hand and guides it to rest on her heart.

“To love,” Brook says, voice steady, sure as a day. “Is never a misfortune.”

r/AmITheAsshole

Realizing I am a lesbian while dating a guy. AITA? submitted 2 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

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Realizing I am a lesbian while dating a guy. AITA?

submitted 2 months ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

I’m a girl who has gone through a couple of dates with a dude, but I’m falling in love with another girl. Like, I’m having a gay crisis right now. I’m not actually cheating since we haven’t decided to be exclusive yet, but he’s also a childhood friend, so it makes me wonder if this is a dick move?

To make matters more complicated: my date? Friend? Sort of boyfriend? He seems to have fallen in love with someone else too, and it’s another guy, so he might be gay, too.

Yes, I know bisexuality exists. Can’t exactly speak about him but I think I’m not that, so it’s not like I can suck it up and date him instead. AITA?

[deleted] • 725 points 2 months ago

Aren’t you the OP of that one viral post from r/relationship_advice about the Baratie cook?

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 2324 points 2 months ago

Yes, and that’s relevant, how?

/u/alohci • -20 points 2 months ago

LOL you’re clearly a troll. This isn’t r/CreativeWriting, go write your romance novel somewhere else. I’m reporting you to the mods.

/u/cheesus32 • 1739 points 2 months ago

This is better than most shit on Netflix right now

/u/veloace • 1641 points 2 months ago

Communication is key, OP. Sexualities aside—which is a topic for another day—isn’t this essentially a case of the two of you wanting different things from the relationship?

Nami takes a deep breath and checks her phone for the time.

She sees the 1:00 displayed on the screen. Her appointment with Zoro is supposed to be on twelve thirty, which means she’ll have another 30 minutes as Zoro gets lost on the way to Baratie as usual. One hour was his record.

She takes another deep breath and sighs.

This is it. She’s going to tell Zoro the truth.

It’s rare for her, to be so nervous around Zoro, but in her defense, it’s not like there’s an easy way to say, “hey, sorry, this may come out of nowhere but I’m breaking things off between us. Apparently I’m a lesbian and I’m also in love with the waitress at the place where we’re supposed to be going on dates in. It’s not you, it’s me.”

...Nami really needs to work on her delivery.

Her heart stutters in her chest as the automatic door slides open and Zoro walks in with the grim determination of a soldier going into battle. Perhaps Zoro is more perceptive than she’s giving him credit for. She hopes so—it surely will make this whole sort of-break up easier for the both of them.

She has run her line over and over again in her head, but nothing has prepared her to see Zoro sit down across the table, bow down, and says, “I’m sory, but I don’t think this is working out for us.”

She blinks. Wait. Wait—“ You're breaking up with me?”

“Luffy thinks we’re having a fight because we’ve been acting weird around each other ever since we tried out this whole dating thing, and hell, Nami, he’s right—I’ve seen you less now,” Zoro plows on, oblivious to her shock. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re my best friend, and you’re still my best friend, and I want us back. The us that’s, you know, normal. Alsoimightbeinlovewiththecook .”

Oh.

That’s—oh.

Nami is pretty sure her mouth is hanging open stupidly now, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Holy shit,” she breathes, perplexed. “Reddit was right.”

Zoro finally looks up at that. “What’s red—” he seems to take in her expression for the first time since the conversation started, eyebrows furrowing. ‘Wait. You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, Zoro, god—how could I be when you’re right?” She feels her body slumping into the chair, the weight she didn’t know she’d been carrying has suddenly been lifted. “We are terrible for each other. I have no idea what got us to agree to this.”

Zoro visibly relaxes. There’s amusement in his tone as he suggests, “the copious amount of alcohol?”

Right. They were in the middle of a drinking competition when the idea of a date came up. “You know what, in hindsight, it’s kind of crazy that we got this far with such a stupid idea.”

“I think I was running away,” Zoro admits, eyes unwittingly darting towards the kitchen. “I couldn’t—I had this thing, for the Cook, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. So I tried to make you an excuse for my cowardice.” He bows again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, dummy, don’t—” she kicks him on the shin, forcing him to stop bowing. “Stop being all bushido on me. I wasn’t any better. I’m—in love with Vivi.”

It’s Zoro’s turn to look at her in surprise. “What, really?”

It’s comforting, in a way, that at least she isn’t so obvious that Zoro would notice. “Yeah. You’re probably too preoccupied with your pretty blond to notice, but I’ve been pretty smitten myself. And I guess I have you and your little crush to thank for dragging me here in the first place.”

Zoro blushes at that, and it’s cute—not in a way that makes her want to kiss him, but definitely in a way that makes her want to tease him until the end days. God, how did it take her so long to realize she never loved him that way?

“‘Dragging” you, huh?” Zoro seems to decide to hone in on that, probably because he could burn himself alive from embarrassment if he keeps talking about Sanji. “This place is that bad for a date?”

Nami throws her head back and laughs. “You’re the worst date ever, Zoro,” she says, in between peals of laughter. “But you’re the best wingman I’ve ever had.”

“Going on a date again this time?” Vivi asks.

Nami looks at her—really takes her in, her smooth long hair and bright smile and long eyelashes. Holy shit, she’s staring at her eyelashes. She is so fucking gay.

She clears her throat. Focus, Nami. “No, actually, uh, can we talk? Like, super serious.”

Vivi immediately straightens up at that. “Of course. Give me a moment."

She rushes towards the kitchen, probably to tell Sanji that she’ll be occupied for a moment; something pulls inside Nami’s chest at the sight, knowing that Vivi would drop everything to be by Nami’s side.

When Vivi reemerges from the kitchen, she’s no longer carrying the tray and the menu. She takes a seat beside Nami and takes her hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, kind of, uh,” here goes nothing. “Zoro and I broke up.”

Vivi’s free hand shot up to cover her mouth in surprise. “Oh my god, Nami, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” she rushes to clarify, before Vivi gets the wrong idea, “I did say we broke up, but that isn’t exactly right—I mean, we were never exclusive, Vivi. And I don’t think we were ever dating for real. Like, we’re gay.”

There’s a beat. “What?”

Okay, so Nami could have broken the news much more smoothly than that.

“Zoro and I, uh—I’m gay. And Zoro never exactly put a label, but I’m pretty sure he never even dreamed of banging a chick, and—” she squeezes Vivi’s hand. She isn’t sure she’s doing it for Vivi or herself. “I know this is a lot, but I just—I think we were just very comfortable with each other, and since we are man and woman, we somehow thought we should date. Which is dumb, looking back at it, but we’d never fallen in love before.”

She thinks of Vivi—beautiful, fierce, kind Vivi, who carries the world on her shoulders. Vivi, whose smile lights up the whole room. “We didn’t know how different it was going to be, when it’s the real thing.”

Somewhere behind them, she can hear something heavy hit the floor in the kitchen, which means Zoro must have confessed right about now and Sanji must have dropped something from the shock.

Well, at least Vivi hasn’t dropped anything yet.

“What I’m trying to say is,” she continues, finding newfound courage from the way Vivi looks at her—is that hope in her eyes? “Vivi, you’re the most wonderful, amazing person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and pretty but I like you more than just that.” She takes Vivi’s hand in both of hers now. “Would you go out with me?”

There’s a moment as her words seem to sink in, and Nami feels her blood run cold—what if she read this whole thing wrongly? What if Vivi was straight? What if she was just trying to help out a friend, being the nice person she is?

But then Vivi’s face splits into a smile, soft and golden-warm, the white light of the overhead fluorescence illuminating her almost ethereal-like. “Yes, Nami,” she says, lacing their fingers together, “I would love to go out with you. But only on one condition.”

“Anything,” Nami says without thinking, because it’s true.

Vivi grins, and there’s a teasing edge on her voice as she says, “If you’re asking me on a date in a diner, count me out.”

“Oh my god,” Nami says, finally, finally pulling Vivi in for a kiss, “never again.”

UPDATE: My (20F) Date (21M) has left me for a Baratie cook (21M)

submitted 3 days ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

It’s fine though, I have a girlfriend (18F, beautiful, amazing, doesn’t get into fights with random cooks) now. Yes, it’s the waitress. Yes, you guys have told me so. I’d love to take the L, but I’m the one with a hot girlfriend here, so am I really losing in this scenario?

#namivivi #zosan #nami #roronoa zoro #sanji #nefertari vivi #one piece #my writing #//#vivi #zoro #op

186 notes · View notes

favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

ataraxia - ch. 3 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 3 - questionnaire pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of injuries, mentions of murder, mentions of familial passing. not beta read. words: ~2.7k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ]

chapter summary: your newest companion, diluc, fulfills his end of the bargain. you’re not quite sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. a/n: not sure how long this fic is going to be in its entirety. guess we’ll just see what happens! it’s starting to have a very different writing style from most of my stuff ;;; but that’s ok!

diluc rests within the spare bedroom of your cottage, across the hall from you. with the threat of infection eliminated, his wounds sutured, and his broken bones properly set into casts, his recovery is but a waiting game at this point. sure, he likely has several months to go, but your main priority is getting him walking once more. you would have to head into the city within the next few days to retrieve a pair of crutches for him, but until then, diluc would have to rest.

he’s finally, thank the archons, wearing a shirt. the redhead is also far less grumpy now than your previous encounters, albeit a bit drowsy when he speaks due to the influence of the far stronger pain medication that the healer prescribed him. while diluc mostly insists on managing himself, he is still unable to walk long distances, if at all, and likely wouldn’t be able to move around for the next few days.

which, of course, left diluc dependent on you.

the urge to ask him to cough up mora in exchange for your undying attention (aka, y’know, not letting him die in the midst of your daily activities) is awfully tempting, but the presence of your parents still lingers heavily in your house. while they’re not around to influence your actions anymore, the nostalgic décor of the spare bedroom diluc rests in serves the world’s worst purpose: it forces you to have good morals. therefore, out of the goodness of your heart and definitely not because you’re worried that you’ll unsettle the spirits of the dead, you ultimately decide not to ask diluc for repayment.

what you do ask him for, however, is to uphold his end of the verbal contract you two had made. sure, you’re not in liyue and under the jurisdiction of morax, but you still expect diluc to follow through. you have far too many questions for the redhead, but elect to let him rest for a bit. he had had the courtesy to thank you when you placed another glass of water, a book, and an apple with some cheese by his bedside, but had gone quiet for the rest of the day.

you now stand in your kitchen, making yourself dinner for two in silence. you have no idea if diluc will even have an appetite or if he’ll even like what you’re making, but you crack the eggs onto the skillet nonetheless. the dish in question is rather simple: toast, ham, poached eggs, and mayonnaise. within minutes, you’re serving up the plates of food and you decide to leave your own in the kitchen.

despite the door being cracked, you knock slightly on the door to diluc’s temporary room. you cringe internally as it swings open from the gesture, but diluc, who is surprisingly awake and in the middle of reading the book you had left him, doesn’t seem to mind the sudden intrusion. his head perks up upon seeing the food in your hands and you feel guilt swirl in your stomach. had he been hungry this entire time? oops.

“hi, i... uh... made food,” you awkwardly greet, holding out the plate to him. diluc takes it with his uninjured left hand and sets the plate in his lap.

“thank you,” diluc says and the words are strangely genuine. much to your behest, in the short encounters you’ve had with him since the healer departed this morning, he has been nothing but polite. it’s irksome. you want a reason to hold a grudge against him due to his crankiness yesterday. however, it’s proving to be hard.

“adventurer’s breakfast sandwich,” you explain, gesturing to the dish. “hopefully you don’t have any dietary restrictions.”

“i do not,” diluc confirms as he cuts into the poached egg with the side of his fork. you watch as the yellow yolk oozes out. “are you an adventurer?”

you shake your head. “nope. just grew up with some in the family.”

“ah.” diluc says and silence falls between the two of you. you shift awkwardly as he begins to eat and diluc makes no effort to engage you in conversation. great, you think. we’re both awkward.

“are you an adventurer?” you finally ask, unable to think of a better conversation starter. you know your food is getting cold, but it can wait. if you do this little chit-chat with diluc right, you’ll be able to get the answers you need.

“not quite,” diluc says after swallowing the bite of food he’s chewing. you await an elaboration. he does not provide you with one.

you quickly realize that talking to him is going to be the equivalent of prying teeth. you’ve never wanted to be a dentist. this isn’t going to be fun for either of you and he’s certainly not going to make it easy, even if the two of you did have an agreement. so, you decide. i’m not going to make it fun for him either.

“so, diluc,” you sing-song, sitting down in rocking chair in the corner of the room. you hastily shove the quilt that rests upon it to the side. “how’d you get your ass kicked?”

diluc sets the fork down on his plate, having finished his meal after scarfing it down. he narrows his eyes at you, unamused, but decides to indulge you with an answer anyways.

“i got in a fight. i did not get my ‘ass kicked’,” he explains. it’s a rather awful explanation.

“you got in a fight with your enemies.” you clarify dully, unimpressed with his answer.

“correct,” diluc says. silence falls between the two of you. it’s only interrupted by the rumbling of your stomach, which diluc can thankfully not hear. you stand from your chair, take his plate from him, and pad into the kitchen before returning with your own plate. you sit back down in the rocking chair and begin to eat as diluc stares at you warily.

“i have questions for you,” you say before he can bury his nose in the book you provided him once more.

“such as?”

“your ‘enemies’. do they know you’re here?” your safety is your first priority. while you don’t want diluc to die, you’re not about to sacrifice your own life for the man who brought trouble to your doorstep.

“no.” he responds after a brief moment of thinking. his tone is rather sullen, yet it reeks of honesty. yuck.

“how do you know that?” you ask, poking at the runny egg yolk that bleeds onto the bread underneath it.

“we would both be dead if they did.”

you have half a mind to kick him out for that response, but choose to swallow another bite of your sandwich once more. what a relaxing, polite answer from the stranger lying in your bed. for all you know, he could be a murde- holy shit. is he an enemy of the state? am i housing a fugitive?

“diluc,” you begin and he tilts his head inquisitively, surprised by the sudden desperation in your tone. “just who are you running from?”

the panic in your voice is evident and it causes diluc to actually consider your question. after all, you could have the fontaine government knocking at your door tomorrow morning and arresting you because of this weirdo. you weren’t too worried about his ability to stick a knife in your neck either. thanks to him somehow fracturing one of the strongest bones in his body, he likely wouldn’t be able to do that yet. yet.

“oh. i am not a fugitive or anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” diluc says. it provides you little relief.

“answer the question.” you demand and diluc parts his lips to speak, before closing them once more. his brows furrow slightly as he thinks of a response.

“i did agree to answer your questions. although i can’t necessarily say i trust you yet, i am indebted to you for your hospitality.” diluc’s answer still manages to evade the question, so you ignore his platitudes and instead stare at him pointedly. he seems to get the hint as the corner of his lips threaten to twitch upwards into a smile, but he quickly returns to his typical stoic expression.

“my enemies are the fatui.”

your fork clatters against your plate and you bite back a groan. so, diluc is an enemy of the state. just not your state. while you certainly wouldn’t get in any legal trouble for housing him, especially since fontaine’s relations with snezhnaya were tempestuous at best, it would inevitably bring trouble knocking to your door. but you knew enough of the fatui to know diluc is telling the truth. if they knew of his location here and he was a great enough enemy to have sustained such injuries from them, then the fatui would have arrived to kill him already. for now, only two other people besides diluc knew of his arrival to the farm: you and the healer.

as much as the healer loved mora, she hated the fatui more. you weren’t too concerned with her involvement in the situation. you, on the other hand, were the biggest concern. if the fatui came knocking at your door asking for diluc, you would hand him over with little to no hesitation. after all, they rewarded compliance with hefty amounts of mora and you were no fool. such an amount would truly be life changing.

“that sucks.” you finally respond before stuffing your mouth with another bite of food.

“for them.” diluc says. his tone lacks any haughtiness, leaving you perplexed. you swallow the food in your mouth before staring at him quizzically.

“they broke your femur.” you remind him and diluc seems nonplussed about the confession.

“i’ve maimed twenty of their agents. potentially killed, but i typically do not stick around to view the results.” diluc says. yup. there it is. the murder confession. of course. although, you had to hand it to him. despite how bad you wanted the fatui’s mora, if you were capable of kicking their asses, you would do the exact same thing. therefore, you bite back your judgment.

“why? i mean, apart from the fact that the fatui suck. everyone knows that,” you wave your fork lazily in the air. “but why specifically risk your own life to... aggravate them?”

diluc’s eyes break away from yours and it appears you’ve hit a sore subject. you brush it off. the man can confess he beats up fatui agents for fun but can’t easily say why? that wasn’t your fault. the redhead could sort out his problems on his own time. you were just curious, that’s all.

“they’re a nuisance where i’m from,” he explains, although his voice appears to be rather distant.

“mondstadt, right?” you ask and diluc looks up at you with wide eyes, startled by your accuracy. “i can recognize the accent. it’s not very discreet. gonna have to change that if you don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.” his expression settles into a slightly sheepish one at your words.

“you’re new to this, aren’t you? the whole espionage thing?” you ask, moving your now empty plate off your lap and setting it on the floor next to you.

“how could you tell?” diluc asks cautiously. you can almost see the walls around his personality reinforcing themselves with each spoken word.

“you didn’t have a game plan for what you did if you got injured. if so, you wouldn’t have showed up on my doorstep. you also asked for a healer long before you knew anything about me besides my name. you didn’t hide your accent. and, no offense, but your appearance sticks out like a sore thumb. red hair and such a distinctive black jacket don’t exactly help with keeping a low profile,” you explain and diluc just stares at you blankly, folding his hands in his lap.

“you are very thorough.” he says and you flash him a smirk.

“i’ve had all day to think. but, trust me and i’ll trust your words, even though i probably shouldn’t. this is just a farm and i’m just trying to make ends meet. i don’t really care to get involved in politics or any of that, but, unfortunately, i can’t just let you die,” you lean back in the rocking chair. the tips of your toes graze the ground lightly, preventing you from swinging back and forth.

“thank you for that,” diluc says and the two of you fall into silence. his eyes glance at his book, but it appears as if he’s trying to be respectful. the redhead seemed to be fairly awful at small talk, but you were going to force it anyways.

“what are your next plans?” you ask. “you’ll be walking in a few days. are you going to go challenge the tsaritsa herself?”

much to your surprise, diluc laughs quietly at your question. “no. i... still need to figure out what i’m going to do. despite how much i want to, i cannot simply throw myself back into the thick of things.”

ah, so the fatui vanquisher did have some basic preservation skills. what a surprise.

“well, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you need to,” you offer. you’re not quite sure why you do, but the words exit your lips before you can rescind them.

“in exchange for payment, i presume?” diluc asks as a formality, but you shake your head no.

“you’ll have to pay for your food. i’m no bed and breakfast, after all, but... hm. let’s just say i have some family that would want me to support those who made enemies of the fatui.” your words are intentionally vague, much like his earlier ones. diluc’s eyes soften in understanding found within the words not spoken between the two of you. you can relate to him on his fatui hatred, even if you would sell diluc to them for the price of a single corn chip.

“but overall,” you continue, burying your grave even deeper. “you can stay here free of charge. however, i do expect you to help out around the farm once you’re able to.”

“that is... quite generous. thank you.” diluc praises you and you shake your head, waving his words away with a flick of the wrist.

“i’m not doing it for you.” you stand up and walk to the doorframe, your back now turned to him. “the fatui killed my parents. you kill the fatui. it only feels correct.”

you turn to look at him over your shoulder and flash him a faux smile. it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. diluc stares at you expressionlessly, yet you can see the sympathy in his eyes. the same pity in his eyes is the one you see in most of the townsfolk. it’s why you keep to yourself. it makes you feel small and insignificant. but you don’t snap at the redhead because of it. instead, you just sigh, before glancing at the bedside table to make sure he had enough water.

“i’ll be in my room. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” your voice is softer than before, but you don’t await an answer from him. instead, you shut the door behind you, before letting out a sigh and running a hand over your face.

jeez, you really know how to overshare, don’t you? you chastise yourself, but before you can beat yourself up too much, your dog trots up to you and nudges you gently. the gesture pulls you out of your negative thoughts and you walk over to the back door, opening it up for him to go outside.

your dog pauses for a second, glancing up at you and wagging his tail for a brief moment, before bolting out the door. this time, the night is filled with clear skies and little to no threats.

“be quick.” you call after him. you hear a soft bark in response and, staring out into the vast expanse of green grasses before you, you feel a churning in your stomach. you’re unsure whether it’s trepidation or excitement for what’s to come.

you aren’t sure you want to know.

tag list (send in an ask to be added/removed!): @quixoticmirror @fishyfish-y

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact

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writertitan · 3 years

Text

Grandfather Clock (II)

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 4602

themes: adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

a/n: back with part 2! hope you enjoy!

Read Part 1 Here

Part 2

On the 17th morning of your new life as an engaged woman, you woke up to a knock on your door.

“Miss?” Greta’s voice came through from the other side. “I have breakfast for you. I understand you haven’t been feeling well.”

“Come in,” you croaked out, clearing your throat in embarrassment when you heard how raspy your voice sounded.

Greta came in moments after being given permission. She held a tray in her hands and she slowly padded towards your bed, leaving the tray on the side of the bed that was empty. Fleetingly, you thought of what it would be like to have Levi there. There was a flutter of something in your heart, and then you felt nothing.

He’d been continuing his efforts to be distant with you, instead of attempting to establish some sort of bond. A friendship, anything. You weren’t asking for much at this point. But was it really down to you not asking for anything at all? Was this what being a highborn woman entailed? Give everything, take nothing?

“Thank you, Greta,” you whispered. You looked up at her tiredly as you sat up in bed against your pillows, feigning a quick smile. “Is there enough left for everyone to eat?”

“Oh yes, miss,” she assured you with a small smile of her own. She was already backing out of the room, hands behind her back. “I’ll be back for the tray in an hour.”

You nodded and then she was gone, leaving you to your thoughts again.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you carefully placed the tray over your lap. It was a lovely breakfast for someone who was feeling ill. Poached eggs, steamed vegetables, and a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

You nibbled on the breakfast, but mostly focused on your tea to soothe your sore throat.

You were trying so hard to keep your mind blank, just enjoying the present, that you didn’t notice the letter on the tray until you accidentally spilled some tea on it while setting your teacup down.

“Damn,” you cursed quietly, blotting at it with your napkin before lifting it to examine it. Your name was scripted on the back in neat handwriting that you immediately recognized, and you swallowed thickly as you opened the envelope to reveal the letter inside.

I’ll be visiting this afternoon. I hope you’ll let me stay for supper.

Levi

The contents made your blood boil unexpectedly. Maybe it was due to your pity party, and your already low spirits, but Levi’s letter was crumpled up and thrown across the room before you could even register what you’d done.

How dare he just announce himself like that? So entitled, always. Never asking to pay a visit, only telling. Even as a soldier, he held more freedom than you did, simply because he was a man. If you had sent a letter like that to anybody, both of your parents would rain hellfire upon you.

Simply because you were a woman.

You hastily dragged the tray off of your lap and back to the empty side of your bed, glaring the whole time. It made you angry to know that one day, that side would hold an occupant. Maybe not this exact bed, in this exact room, but whatever bed you’d be forced to share with Levi.

When Greta came back for the tray, you waited until she left the room before you shifted to rest right in the middle of your bed. A silent rebellion.

-----

Levi,

I am afraid I’ve fallen ill and would not make good company today. Please do ask to come by once I’m feeling better.

You signed your name at the end before stuffing the parchment haphazardly into an envelope and writing Levi’s name on the back. Charlie took it quickly, ready to run it to the postman.

Your rebellion had seeped out into the real world now, not just your bed. Normally, you would have done anything to accommodate guests. This wasn’t the first time you would have hosted a guest while feeling under the weather, but you just couldn’t stomach it today, with Levi.

After all, he didn’t even want to see you. He was just doing this out of obligation. And, as much as you wanted to convince yourself that you were past feeling hurt about it, you knew that was a lie. It did hurt. It hurt knowing that Levi’s opinion of you was so low, especially when your opinion of him was so high, and there was nothing you could do about it. Even now, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. To be irritated by him, sure, but you couldn’t hate him.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t add a little snark to your letter.

Please do ask to come by. Not that he would.

Today, you just wanted time to yourself and you wanted to rest. You were too ill to pretend that Levi’s dismissal of you didn’t upset you. Who knows what you would have done if you’d let him stop by?

By now, you’d moved from your bedroom to the parlor, dressed and groomed but feeling like you’d been hit by bricks. You went back to reading your novel once you’d sent off Charlie with your letter in an attempt to immerse yourself in another world where you could be anything.

The grandfather clock chimed dutifully at the stroke of noon.

-----

Levi stared down at your letter, a frown on his features as he read the contents. Part of him felt lighter, a little happy that he had one less thing to do, but another part nagged at him.

Were you actually sick? Or did you not want to see him today?

Not that it mattered to him. Of course it didn’t matter to him. Why would it matter to him?

He sighed and looked to Erwin’s office, door closed as to not have as many interruptions. He was having a meeting with your father, actually, and Levi - despite being the groom himself - was not allowed to be present.

Erwin would be upset if Levi didn’t go to check up on you, knowing that you’ve fallen ill.

So, he discarded the letter, went to get his horse, and told Mike and Hange where he was headed before galloping off.

-----

“Miss?”

You looked up from your book to see Ura, one of the maids that worked closely with Greta, at the entry to the parlor.

“Yes, Ura? Is everything alright?” you asked.

Ura looked a little nervous then, and it made your heart leap in concern. Had something happened? Before you could press her for more information, she gulped and looked at you apologetically.

“Captain Levi from the Survey Corps is here to see you. I understand that you told him not to come and we tried to tell him you were feeling ill, but he’s insisting-”

“This has to be a joke,” you interrupted, and you felt your entire body heat up with anger. You tried to tone it down when Ura cowered back, and you gave her a small smile, but the fury behind your eyes was ever-present.

You set your book down a little too harshly on the table and stood up, straightening out your dress before looking to poor Ura.

“Send him in,” you said, nodding to her as a silent approval to go ahead, and she scampered off to bring back a stoic Captain Levi moments later.

Ura excused herself and you bid her a quiet goodbye and thanked her for bringing him, but then nothing but tense silence filled the room. Behind you, the grandfather clock ticked steadily.

“Captain Levi.” It was you who finally broke the silence. Your greeting was formal but obviously very stern - a preclude to what you were about to scold him with. You didn’t even care that your voice was so scratchy. “I believe I sent you a letter stating I wasn’t feeling very well today and wouldn’t be taking visitors. Did you not receive it?”

Goodness, you hated being this formal with people. You hated speaking so prim and proper. It didn't suit you. But you had to keep up appearances, especially in front of Levi, the man who had no genuine intentions of trying to connect with you.

“I got your letter,” he said. There was no shame in his eyes, no embarrassment at his confession. It caught you off guard; you were left speechless for a moment, while Levi stared you down.

Finally, you found your voice, but all of your bite and previous irritance evaporated as you spoke up.

“Then...why are you here?” you asked, voice much quieter now.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were okay and...resting,” he replied. His own words seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, but not in the way you were used to seeing Levi uncomfortable. He seemed almost confused, but his gaze never faltered.

“Oh. Well, thank you,” you murmured, unable to break eye contact with him.

When the gravity of the situation hit you, the heat crept up your neck to bloom on your face.

He was here to see you and make sure you were doing okay. He’d come to check in on you.

Levi had come to check on you, despite your insistence to not come.

Part of you was still annoyed he had blatantly disregarded your wishes, but the other part of you was thrilled. The hopeless romantic that refused to die away, refused to wither away for your own good, clung onto your heart and insisted that this was something to throw hope at.

Levi seemed to notice your bashful demeanor then, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, folding his arms over his chest as he gave you a onceover.

“I can leave if you want,” he offered, a frown on his face.

You shook your head quickly, and if you hadn’t been zeroed in on his every movement, you would have missed the way he seemed to ease up just a bit.

“Stay,” you assured him. Without thinking it through, you closed the distance between the two of you to gently grab him by the elbow, fingers nimbly curling around his arm to tug him to where you’d been sitting. You vaguely noted how the tough fabric of his uniform jacket felt to the touch. “Do you want some tea? Would you like anything to eat? I can have the cook make anything you want.”

To your surprise, Levi didn’t pull away from your hold. He let you lead him to the sofa and sat down next to you, albeit a little stiff. Still, it was an improvement; you obviously hadn’t expected him to melt into your touch, but it was nice that he hadn’t jerked away.

“Tea is fine,” Levi said, his eyes taking in the parlor room.

You left him there for a moment to go and find Greta or Ura or another maid for the tea. Ura had been close by, still looking anxious, but you gave her a gentle smile and asked her to bring some of your favorite tea, two cups for you and Captain Levi, and watched her hurry off to the kitchen.

Levi was a little more settled into the sofa when you returned, and you took your seat on the empty side, a little shy now that it was just the two of you, with no tension this time.

It was odd to be around Levi like this. He didn’t exactly look comfortable, but this was still the most relaxed you’d ever seen him. When there wasn’t an obvious wall around him, it was...different. It was nice.

You watched him, more curious than anything, as he took in his surroundings. You were quick to notice that his eyes found the bookshelf in the corner time and time again, and you smiled to yourself at the idea of Captain Levi being a bookworm.

“What are your favorite things to read? Do you have a favorite book?” you found yourself asking. It seemed that today, your mouth acted quicker than your mind. You’d just have to blame it on being sick.

Levi turned to you, looking a little flustered, and gave you a small shrug as he turned away from the bookshelf.

“I don’t have a lot of free time to read, so I don’t think I have a favorite book,” he replied, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You smiled sweetly at him and grabbed your book from the table, gingerly placing it just a few inches away from his lap.

“This one is mine,” you told him. “I’ll let you borrow it. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to just relax and read and drink some tea this afternoon, until it’s time for supper. I won’t be much of a conversationalist because of my throat. It’d be a great chance to start a new book. Is that alright with you?”

Levi had dropped his gaze to the book the moment you’d set it down for him, and while you could tell he was listening to you, he was also preoccupied in flipping through the worn pages and examining the book.

“I’d like that,” he said after a moment, and your heart swelled.

“Wonderful. I’ll grab my second favorite to read,” you beamed, and went to the bookshelf to pluck it out of its place.

As you sat back down, Ura came back with a tray topped with your tea and some cut up fruits; softer fruits, for your throat, you noted. What a kind thing to do. You’d barely eaten all day because it hurt too much to swallow.

Levi took a sip of his tea, which you paid no real mind to until a little hum sounded from him that made you look to him.

And it seemed Levi was full of surprises today. He looked genuinely impressed by the tea, another emotion you wouldn’t have imagined seeing from him, and you, again, couldn’t stop yourself from speaking to him.

“Do you like the tea? It’s my favorite. When I’m sick, Chef Erlo always makes sure to put some honey in it, even though he likes to save it for special occasions since it’s gotten so expensive. Then it tastes like heaven,” you rambled.

Levi stayed silent for a moment after you finished, and you were about to get embarrassed for how you just went on like that, but relief washed through you as Levi said, “This is my favorite tea too. I’ve never had it with honey before.”

You bit your lip to hide the enormous smile that threatened to beam out.

Neither of you said anything else. Instead, the two of you picked up your respective books and began your afternoon of reading and honeyed tea.

-----

Although you wouldn’t have expected it, a quiet afternoon of reading with Levi close by was actually really peaceful. After a while, you let your guard down to fully relax; instead of sitting up straight and being mindful of how you looked and if you looked okay, all of those thoughts, those “highborn thoughts”, dissipated to let you just be.

You curled into the sofa how you wanted to and even slurped at your cup of tea a little bit, without any worry on how it made you look.

That afternoon, you were just you. You weren’t Lady You.

And Levi didn’t even seem to care.

He didn’t care that you slouched. He didn’t care that you smacked your lips when you munched on the fruits.

The silence didn’t bother either of you. In fact, it was a contributing factor as to why you suddenly felt this at ease with him. Usually, you felt pressured to keep up pleasant conversation. Not just with him, but with any guest you were hosting. You were always trying to be a proper lady, out of pure habit, but today had seemingly broken some boundaries for both of you. Levi was actually acknowledging you, and you didn’t feel such a strong need to be perfect.

But all good things had to come to an end.

The soothing atmosphere you’d cultivated in the parlor room evaporated the moment your mother bustled in, home from her day of errands with friends.

And the moment she stepped in, you immediately saw everything that was wrong with the scene she was coming home to.

Unchaperoned meeting. Slouching daughter. Nothing but silence.

She wouldn’t understand.

You tried to salvage it by immediately sitting up straight, putting plenty of distance between you and Levi as she walked in to sit at one of the chairs opposite the sofa.

“Captain Levi, how lovely to see you again,” she greeted him after handing her hat and gloves to Greta. She turned to you, a disapproving look in her eye that only you would be able to catch, and you tried to remain straight-faced when she gave you her very practiced polite smile. “Darling, I hope you’ve made Captain Levi’s visit enjoyable. A little sore throat is no excuse to be so unwelcoming.”

Before you could answer, Levi cut in for you, his words holding their familiar curtness, but this time directed at your mother instead of you.

“I’ve had a great day. I was actually thinking of staying for dinner.”

“Oh, please do!” your mother chirped happily, that polite smile widening just the appropriate amount. “I’ll let the staff know to accommodate one more person tonight. I’ll let you both get back to it. One of the girls is right outside if you need anything.”

It was harmless to normal ears but you caught what your mother was telling you: there’s someone out there to keep an eye on you.

Once she was out, it took everything in you not to slump forward and sigh.

How could you have let yourself be so improper? There would likely be hell to pay for that.

And now you’d have to sit through a very painful dinner; you weren’t sure if you could eat what Chef Erlo was serving tonight with your throat being so sore.

Whatever tranquility that had been transpring with Levi was now gone. You peeked at your book in his hands, wanting so badly to ask how he was liking it, but refrained.

He was looking at you, and had been since your mother had left, a curious glint in his eye. “Have you eaten?”

There was clearly something else he wanted to ask, but he kept that to himself. You wouldn’t pry it out of him.

“I’ve been sticking to my tea today. Helps with my sore throat,” you explained. “Chef Erlo said he’d be serving some roasted duck tonight, and I think you’d really like it. I don’t know if I’ll be eating that tonight, since it sounds like it would be too hard on my throat, which is unfortunate because it’s one of his specialties. But you’ll have to eat enough for the both of us.” Then, catching yourself, you added a polite and ladylike, “I positively insist!”

You’d added those last three words to save yourself from being too forward and too uncouth, a habit from your parents constantly pressuring you and teaching you to be nothing short of a perfect highborn lady. But now, you regretted speaking the words with every fiber of your being.

This new Levi you’d seen disappeared in the blink of an eye, and the old one returned. Those three words seemed to completely sour his mood.

His gaze was so hard and unyielding that it made you freeze in place. So different from how he was looking at you just moments before. He took in your perfect posture, your doe-like eyes, and he actually liked genuinely dismayed.

“You don’t have to talk like that. You don’t have to act like that,” he said suddenly, jaw tight as he spoke. His words were curt, like how he usually spoke to you, and it made your heart sink.

“I was just...I was just trying to be polite,” you stammered out, face hot with embarrassment and some other emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

“It’s not real,” Levi countered, looking absolutely rigid as he spoke to you. “I hate how all of you speak. You think it’s so refined, you think you’re so refined. Because you have everything. So you think you’re above everyone else. And you speak that way to set yourself apart from people like me. It’s another way to show us how you’re better than us. You’re so much better than us that you even speak differently. Even when you’re sick, you try to be better. I bet if you were dying, you’d still try to act like an obnoxious highborn lady.”

You let him go on, each word cutting a little deeper than the last, until you finally had enough.

With tears brimming in your eyes, you stood from your place on the sofa with fists clenched into the skirt of your dress. Your body screamed to be far away from this man who was so cruel to you all the time, for things as simple as speaking a certain way.

“I’m trying really hard, Le- Captain Levi,” you whimpered, bottom lip trembling. “I try hard for you. I try hard for my parents. None of it is for me. This afternoon was the one time I thought something good was happening to me and I...”

You shook your head then as you trailed off, unable to even look at Levi. You looked down at your feet instead.

While it had felt like your fever had been slowly ebbing away, suddenly it was back full force, so much so that you felt dizzy on your feet. Your thoughts became jumbled, part of the reason you couldn’t finish what you’d been saying, and suddenly there was a ringing in your ears.

You wobbled a bit, and when you saw stars in your vision, you knew you were a goner.

You were unconscious before you hit the ground.

-----

The first thing you registered upon waking up was a pair of grey eyes gazing down at you, worry melting into relief when you opened your eyes.

Levi.

He said your name quietly, and it made your heart skip a beat, because he hardly ever said your name.

“Can you hear me? Are you alright?” he asked.

It was only then that you realized he had a hand cupping your cheek. You hoped he didn’t feel how blood pooled there and made your cheeks hot.

“What happened?” you asked, wincing as you tried to sit up.

Levi gently but firmly pushed you down. He used the hand cupping your cheek to press down on your shoulder, and it saddened you to feel his warmth go away.

“Whoa, don’t get up. You might faint again.”

So, you fainted.

You took in your surroundings, still in a daze while everything came back to you.

You were lying down on the sofa in the parlor room, with Levi kneeling beside you by your head. Greta was there, along with your mother, by your feet. They both looked so worried.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to assure them all, but Levi kept a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Give yourself a minute,” he demanded, a trace of worry coming back to his gaze. “We’ll get you back to your room after that.”

“It’s really fine-” you began to protest, but one look from Levi made you clamp your mouth shut.

He looked to Greta and your mother, voice full of authority as he spoke to them.

“I can take it from here. Tell the cook to make her something easy to swallow and take it up to her room. She needs to eat. I’ll carry her there in a minute.”

They both sprung into action after that, and you watched it all in a daze. You could see why he was a captain now. Even you found yourself wanting to obey his command.

Levi turned back to you, gaze softening a little, and he removed his hand from your shoulder to press the back of it against your forehead. He pursed his lips, sighing a little as he murmured, “You’re burning up. You should be in bed.”

“Okay,” you whispered with a nod.

Slowly, you tried to sit up, and Levi grunted a little as his hand landed on your shoulder again. This time, however, he didn’t make you lie back down.

“I can walk,” you assured him, giving a weak smile, but Levi shook his head, eyes determined as he looked down at you.

“Like hell I’m gonna let you walk,” he grunted.

And before you knew it, you were swept up in Levi’s arms and nestled against his chest.

You cautiously looped your arms around his neck as he carried you out of the parlor room, the heat back in your face full force. This was the closest you’d ever been to Levi - to any man - and your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.

You breathed in the scent of him, clean and also a little woodsy, and it soothed you a little, calmed you down from the slight embarrassment and exhaustion of fainting.

You murmured how to get to your room for Levi, which he followed dutifully, with neither of you saying anything else beyond that.

When he got to your room, door ajar, he kicked it open and carefully set you on your bed. With wide eyes, you watched him pull the covers back for you, and you crawled into bed, cheeks still burning hot and in competition with your fever at this point as Levi tucked you in.

He knelt down at your bedside, like he’d done in the parlor room, silence overtaking you once more.

The two of you stared at each other, eyes swimming with emotions, and this time Levi was the one to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and the look in his eyes told you that he was sincere. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

You had a feeling he was apologizing for more than just what happened in the parlor room.

“I forgive you,” you said, without missing a beat.

Even though he had hurt you, in truth, you’d been prepared to forgive him as soon as you were done giving him that little speech. This whole situation was hard for the both of you. And you were prepared to give Levi as many chances as he needed with you.

When you stared into his eyes, still filled with concern and a touch of guilt, you knew.

You knew that you’d let the hopeless romantic in you win. You knew you’d always try to forgive him.

“Get some rest,” Levi whispered, suddenly looking a little conflicted.

He stood from where he knelt, making to leave, but in a moment of boldness, you reached out a hand to grab his wrist.

He froze and turned back to look at you, that same conflicted expression adorning his face, but you couldn’t find the words you wanted to say.

Instead, you gave his hand a squeeze and then curled up in bed, flashing him a shy smile before nuzzling into your pillow. As you closed your eyes, you listened to Levi’s footsteps, slow to walk out of your room. After he closed the door behind him, you noticed that it took a few long moments before he actually walked away.

Read Part 3 Here

#levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi one shot #levi fanfiction #levi fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #aot oneshots #aot fanfiction #aot #snk fanfiction #snk

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onewithnomightypowers · 3 years

Text

Old Habits

pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

summary: Old habits come back when you meet an ex lover after a long time. Conversations feel like you never stopped talking to them. Sometimes you have to see them one last time to say goodbye like you mean it but most of the time it doesn’t go as planned.

warning: drinking

words: 2.1k

a/n: could be read as part 2 of last kiss but is a stand alone. got a bit poetic at the end. hope you guys like it. and as always, love reading your opinions/reactions. also asks are open. (gif not mine)

masterlist

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

She picked up her phone to open Instagram. Yes, Y/N still had notifications on for his account even after they were broken up for months. Classic Tom.

He posted two of the same picture on his story. No one understood how that would happen almost every time, not even the people working at Instagram to whom they contacted about the glitch.

Tom had his hair slicked back, standing in a white t-shirt next to Harry, his brother, giving a million-dollar smile. They were holding a clapperboard together. There was text on the picture too, 'day 1 let's go!!' She smiled to herself. Just because they weren't together doesn't mean that she wasn't allowed to feel happy for his achievements. Even though she wishes to know all these big things from Tom himself she is, unfortunately, left here, watching a small part of his life flash in front of her for less than thirty seconds.

"Are you listening?" Hope, Y/N's date said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?" Y/N placed the phone back where it was resting, next to the cold wine bottle.

"You seem distant," they said.

When she 'met' Hope (she only really met them 30 minutes ago), Y/N wasn't looking for love, just sex, and that is what online dating specializes in. She hoped Hope knew what they were signing up for, sexual intimacy and nothing else.

"It doesn't matter does, does it? We both know what we are here for. Why not just cut the chase," Y/N replied.

It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to shine in its full glory. Y/N could only think of the first time she stayed over at Tom's old apartment but then she turned her head only to find Hope's naked body next to her. Her heartbeat accelerated with the realization that he was not hers anymore. Being in a foreign environment didn't help her growing anxiety, twisting and turning her intestines.

It's been four months, her feelings for Tom refuse to quit on her because she knows she could never quit on them, on him, even if he has. He probably has already found someone else in Canada, she thought. She didn't want him anymore but she still needed him, one last time just to teach her stupid heart how to say goodbye.

Y/N wore her clothes and picked up her shoes, going on a trail to find Hope's door to get out before they wake up. Climbing down the stairs, she took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

'5 new messages from Sam' 7 hours ago

Sam: hey

Sam: ik it's late

Sam: I am going for a run tmr morning @6

Sam: do you wanna come?

Sam: will go to the new coffee house near my house after that

Y/N texted him back

Y/N: I'll meet you at the coffee place

Sam: come fast. already here

Sam and Y/N were standing in the queue to place their orders. “You look especially shitty today,” Sam said, running his right hand through his sweaty hair.

“I haven’t been home yet,” Y/N reasoned her appearance.

His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. The person in front of them left the queue, they moved towards the counter. “One hazelnut latte, double shot with skimmed milk,” Y/N gave her order.

“And you?” the cashier’s question directed to Sam.

“I’ll have a matcha latte with oat milk”

Sam turned to Y/N, “Harrison got me on matcha, and now I can’t go back to coffee”

They paid their dues and moved over to the barista counter to collect their order.

“So, what were you doing last night?” Sam inquired.

“I was on a date, it isn't a big deal though. Just had some needs to take care of”

“Oh, was it any good?”

“It was fine. I was distracted the whole time. Saw Tom’s story about halfway into the bottle of merlot. Couldn’t stop thinking about him”

“Seems…sad. But you know Tom is coming back for the Christmas weekend, I think. He might attend Harrison’s Christmas eve party”

“One hazelnut latte and one matcha latte,” someone behind the counter screamed.

“That’s us,” Sam raised his voice.

Harrison had a bucket inside his house, under a sign that said 'drop your tracking devices here' with an arrow pointing to the bucket. Y/N dropped her phone on a pile of roughly fourteen others. Debating whether to see Tom's face was something she wanted or not made her late and not very fashionably.

The house was decorated with empty liquor bottles along with red and green streamers from one wall to another. Everyone was drunk in their best dress. There were no signs of Tom yet. Y/N took a deep breath, walking towards the kitchen to get herself some liquid courage to help her socialize.

The kitchen was rather scarcely populated. Empty glasses were lined up next to the sink. Are they clean or used? Bending down, Y/N opened the refrigerator to see if Harrison had any chilled wine. No luck. "Hey," a familiar voice was heard.

She looked up at the familiar stranger.

"Hey Tom," she smiled. The refrigerator light falling on Y/N made her blush visible.

She grabbed a half-cut lemon placed in the egg tray.

“How have you been?" Tom asked leaning back on the kitchen counter, observing her movements.

Y/N walked towards the sink to grab herself a crystal glass hoping for it to be clean. "Just busy with work these days"

"I heard you got a job at Condé Nast, is that true?" he took a sip from his beer.

"Well, you heard right. You are looking at their new senior brand manager for digital", she said proudly.

Tom hugged her from the side she was holding a knife to cut the lemon for her gin and tonic. "That's great darling! You always wanted to work there"

Darling. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like the first time she met Tom.

"I saw your story the other day. You started filming your script, right?" she dropped the lemon in the glass.

"Yup, it was a long time coming," he grabbed the knife she was using and washed it without even knowing. He was so used to Y/N never washing utensils after using them and, he would always have to clean up after her.

"Congrats on that babe!" The word 'babe' just slipped out of practice.

Y/N grabbed a Bombay Sapphire standing still on the marble slab. The blue of the bottle shinning even in the dim-lit room.

"I missed you," Y/N made eye contact, screwing the cap back on. A long, silent pause.

I miss you too, so very much

She cleared her throat, "so, how long are you staying?"

"Going back Monday morning"

She opened a can of tonic water.

"Are you seeing someone?" Tom asked.

"Wouldn't you wanna know" a smirk on her face grew. "I've been out on few dates, nothing serious. What about you?"

"Met this girl online, dated for a bit but, she wanted something I couldn't give to her"

Y/N scoffed, "did she have a foot fetish or something?"

"No, Y/N. She wanted love, not my feet" they both laughed.

"On that topic..." Tom calmed himself, "...I was listening to this song a few weeks ago and, there was this line, 'the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet' and it made me think of you"

"I reckon," she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

"No, seriously, I really related to that line. No matter how many people I hook up with, it will be hard to find the type of intimacy I shared with you. I still relate to it"

"I hate going on walks alone and having faceless dreams," Y/N blurted, lacking a proper reaction.

"You're still the face of all my fantasies," Tom confessed.

None of them knew what to say next. Anything they thought of saying now included walking over the blurry line of exes to lovers.

"You look pretty"

"Classic me, had a glow up after getting my heartbroken"

"You always looked this pretty. You are beautiful," Tom assured her. The 'heartbroken part did not sit well with him. He already felt guilty for taking a job across the pond which was a great opportunity for him to grow but was only possible by severing his ties with Y/N.

It had just started snowing on Boxing Day. Tom was alone in his cold home, boiling a pot of ramen noodles. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the burning stove with the pot on top.

Tom: *attached photo*

Tom: I come back after months and my family leaves me alone with no food

Y/N: you should add a poached egg

Tom: Thanks. I shall.

Tom: I think I made too much ramen for me

Tom: do you wanna come over and share?

Her indecision was visible by the coming and going of the gray dots. Then finally, Tom could tame his anxiety by her simple reply.

Y/N: sure.

There was a loud knock on the door. Tom put two bowls of hot ramen on the dining table and went to open the door. Behind the door, Y/N was standing with her hands inside her brown checker coat. There was dust of snow sitting on her shoulders. Her braided hair was made by the most anxious hands in town.

The door opened and, Tom’s hands flew to take Y/N in his arms. They hugged like little kids hug their parents after being away from each other, for them, an eternity. It did feel like an eternity to them too but, they hadn’t forgotten each other’s touch.

“I parked my car at the church, couldn’t find any spot here ‘cause of the snow," she pulled out.

“The snow seems to be gaining momentum.”

Y/N hummed in agreement. She took off her coat and hung it in the Holland’s coat closet.

“Come on, the ramen is getting cold,” she followed tom into the kitchen.

They sat adjacent on the wooden table in comfortable silence. Tom used chopsticks and, Y/N used a fork. Only the occasional noodles falling in the broth were heard, along with the gushing of wind.

“It’s really spicy for me,” Tom said.

“Yeah, I can see your ears turning red.”

She still remembers

Y/N raised her hand to cover her mouth while yawning.

“Since you made the food, I’ll do the dishes,” she got up, grabbed their bowls, and walked over to the sink.

Wearing the gloves, she turned to Tom, “it was quite tasty”.

Tom gave her a smile.

She spread the soap on the dishes and turned the tap on. Tom pushed his chair back to get up.

“Have you made any friends at your new job,” he jumped and sat on the counter next to Y/N.

“Yeah, sort of. Kyara works there too so, I have just made her friends my friends,” she washed his chopsticks.

“That’s good. Have you talked to Emily after the wedding? She told me they are planning on adopting.”

“They invited me over for dinner when they got the approval from the agency. Kyara made this amazing Hyderabadi biryani, it was her mum’s recipe so, it was obviously better than the restaurant”

“God! You and your love for Indian food”

Y/N removed her gloves, “I should go. Thanks for the ramen, by the way”

“Are you sure you can go out in this weather?”

“Yeah I think," she started walking out of the kitchen.

Tom grabbed her hand. “Stay”, his voice was like cotton.

Y/N turned and made contact with his pleading eyes. She moved closer to him. “Please”, he said. They both were inching in to lock their desperate lips.

Y/N did not notice when she had fallen asleep talking to Tom. Their naked bodies were covered by the white comforter. Her eyes slowly opened to a boy with brown eyes and messy hair looking at her.

“I like it when you sleep. I love watching you sleep”

She chuckled. “That’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” She had a sleepy voice.

“You look so serene, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I could stare at you for eons”

“But love, I'm only here till the snow settles,” she caressed his cheeks.

“Then the cold shall frost our limbs," he leaned in to kiss her.

tags: @elios-timotea

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spiderman #marvel fanfiction #marvel #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man #spiderman x you

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mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

“Whipped Cream” - Part 3 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: nsfw, explicit content not suitable for minors, oral-giving and receiving, fingering

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Part 3 took forever because of a busy week, I really apologize for that! Part 4 will come out sooner, hopefully tomorrow if everything goes well haha. As always, please excuse any mistakes!

♡ ♡ ♡ previous parts: Part 1, Part 2

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.6k

Saturday at 5 PM, you stared at the message so many times it felt like it was imprinted in your retina. Just the day and the hour, because he must have thought that no other details were necessary.

You couldn’t concentrate the whole day and because of that you ended up messing your end of the week report. That translated in staying overtime and missing your Friday cooking class. When you sent Nanami a message telling him you probably couldn’t make it, he bluntly replied that you need to contact their secretary because she is the one who handles the schedule. Funny, he had no problem contacting you when it came to setting up a meeting for that lesson.

You were so tired when you reached your apartment that you didn’t even bother with dinner, you just took a shower and rolled into bed. Despite your hard day, you simply couldn’t fall asleep. What in God’s given name made you think you could pull this off? Starting an affair with your teacher, like some high school fantasy, except you weren’t a teen anymore and you knew the consequences. On the other hand, you were both adults and it’s not like a relationship between the two of you would be so scandalous. Except, this wasn’t a relationship, and you needed to remind yourself that.

Sleep finally took hold of you and you woke up on Saturday morning feeling like you had wrestled a bear. So much for a good night sleep to help with your complexion. You had cancelled all previous plans you had for the day, despite the whining of your best friend whom you were supposed to meet in the afternoon, and focused on getting ready for your lesson. You weren’t this nervous even on the day of your prom.

Bath, scrub, face mask, the whole deal and you hoped his dick was worth all this effort. When it came to clothes, obviously you chose a skirt this time around, because weren’t you such a nice girl, and a light coloured buttoned shirt. You wanted something simple, classy, that fitted your body well enough but wouldn’t scream ‘I want you to fuck me on your desk’, although that was the plan.

When it was nearly a quarter past 4, you grabbed your bag, coat and car keys and headed out the door. The car ride took longer than usual, due to the whole Saturday traffic, and you were starting to get impatient.

If you had any confidence that you could actually pull this off, it all disappeared the second you set foot in the elevator that would lead you to the lobby. Seeing your reflection in the metal doors made everything feel very real and you actually thought of turning back. Yet as the doors opened, you stepped out and took a deep breath. At the end of the day you were also here to learn what you had missed on the previous classes, thus you could just do that and refuse the extra lesson.

With that thought in mind, and new found confidence, you moved towards the reception desk, surprised that you didn’t find anyone there. Actually, the whole place looked empty, such a contrast from the busy week days.

You walked to your classrooms and when you reached the door you gave it a light knock.

“Come in.”

Nanami’s voice startled you, as though you were surprised that he was actually there. You opened the door slowly and peeked inside, finding him reading the newspaper with his glasses on. The image kind of shocked you, it seemed so domestic that your mind couldn’t help but wonder how he would look sitting like this at your kitchen table, early in the morning, with his blond hair slightly messy, a large cup of steaming coffee in front of him. You shook your head, pushing such silly thoughts aside. Daydreaming of something that will never happen wouldn’t do you any good.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Don’t be silly.” He took off his reading glasses and folded the newspaper neatly. “You are surprisingly on time for once.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment before stepping inside and closing the door.

“Place feels kind of empty.”

“That’s because I don’t have my employees work on weekends.” His what now? Seeing your surprised expression he continued. “I own this school.” Well that explained the expensive car.

“Now then, let’s not waste anymore time, we have two recipes we need to make.” With that said, you put your apron on and work began.

For almost an hour and a half you worked on your Paris Brest and then on the perfect poached eggs. It made quite a difference to have such a skilled cook by your side giving you instruction left and right. His attitude was different from your previous classes but maybe this was also because this time you were keen to listen and learn.

It was quite a nice atmosphere and you felt yourself relax while doing what you enjoyed most. Time seemed to pass by in an instant and now your dessert was in the fridge while the two eggs that you had made were eaten with toasted English muffins that Nanami had baked himself earlier that day.

After everything was done, you two began to clean the dishes. He explained that the cleaning lady that usually took care of them at the end of every class will only be back on Monday morning and he didn’t want to leave them in the sink.

“Seems everything is in order now.” He placed the very last bowl in the cabinet before turning to look at you. “I think it’s time we start our extra lesson.”

You stood there, almost petrified, as his hands reached for your apron and slowly took it off. A mix of emotions washed over you as he took you gently by the wrist and you followed him into the nearby office.

With a click, the door was locked and his lips were now hungrily devouring yours. You leaned back on the closed door as your arms wrapped around his shoulders for support. Your worries seemed to disappear as his hands began to trace every single curve of your body. When he pulled away from the kiss you were both out of breath, a glimpse of hunger reflecting in your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” He looked at you with just a hint of concern and you nodded shortly. You wanted this, no doubt about it, but would you be able to handle the consequences?

“Why me?” Your words took him by surprise and he pulled away just slightly.

“Why not you?”

“I’m not joking, I need to know-”

“If you can trust me?” He let out a small chuckle and his hand gently caressed your cheek. “You remind me of someone. I felt it the second I saw you in my class and if life taught me anything is that I shouldn’t ignore my instinct.” With that he pulled away and reached for the door knob.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, I’ve told you that last time. You can just walk out the door and-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, your hands grabbing the collar of his white shirt, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Every single part of you wanted him. You wanted to know how he felt like, how he tasted like, you wanted him to know what you tasted like. You didn’t bother asking him whom you reminded him of, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t going to be a relationship, no point in complicating things.

“Well, you sure answered my question.” He looked amused when you finally pulled away, yet that amusement was quickly replaced by a serious expression.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

“Did you already forget the rules?”

“I really want this...sir.”

With a quick movement he pulled you to the couch. He positioned your body so that your hands were gripping the back pillows while your knees were resting on the cushion. His hands came from behind to cup your breasts and he began to massage them gently through the fabric.

“I see you chose to wear a skirt today. Isn’t it a bit chilly outside?” He seemed amused as his right hand rested between your thighs while the left continued to knead your chest. His hands were quite skilful, just a few touches and you could already feel your panties sticking to your wet core.

“I’m giving you extra points for wearing something that would give me...easier access.” His hand ventured furthered up your thigh and brushed against the fabric of your panties, making you shudder from head to toe. God, he was moving so slow, it was almost torture.

Just as you were about to ask him to touch you more, he retrieved his hand and practically ripped your shirt opened. He harshly pulled on your bra, releasing your breasts before cupping them and twisting your nipples between his fingers. The movements were so sudden that you let out a shriek, a feeling of painful delight washing over you.

“Not so loud.” He whispered in your ear, voice low and filled with lust. You wondered if there were other people in the building. He said that the other employees didn’t work on weekends but you were sure there must have been security guards. You needed to keep your voice down no matter how much you wanted to scream his name.

His hands left your breasts, moving down to grip your waist before moving down further at the hem of your skirt. He pulled the material up to reveal your ass and you felt your face turning bright red. You turned to look at him and caught his hungry expression as his eyes were fixed on your clothed crotch.

“Pulled them down.” You blinked, your mind not being able to register his words. “Pull your panties down.” You sucked in a breath and with shaking hands you let go of the couch frame before moving to pull your panties down to your knees.

The cold air from the room made you shiver, or was it perhaps the way he was now inspecting you with his eyes. You never felt more exposed, sitting with your legs spread, pussy twitching hoping for any kind of attention from his part. As though he could read your mind, he parted your legs even further, burying his face between them.

When you felt his hot breath on you swollen lips you thought you were going to scream in frustration. He didn’t make you wait long, his mouth eating you out like you were his favourite desert. You let your forehead rest on your arm and bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. His tongue began to vigorously lap on your juices as one of his fingers pushed inside of you. He began to pump his finger in a slow rhythm, stretching you as much as possible before adding another digit.

“So close...please. Please, sensei.” You didn’t even know what you were saying, words and gasps were just escaping your lips uncontrollably. Feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, Nanami let his tongue push against your clit, causing you to whimper.

The hand that wasn’t working on your hole moved up your body, caressing your breast before twisting the nipple. By this time you were moving your hips back against his hand, furiously meeting his thrusts. He suddenly pushed his digits further, deep inside of you and sucked harshly on your clit, sending you over the edge.

Every single muscle in your body tensed and you knew that if you could scream, it would shatter you. Your climax came with hushed sobs, tearing through you like lighting. He retrieved his fingers from inside your hole as your eyes opened, still bleary with tears. You looked at the wall, trying to adjust your vision, before glancing back at his devilish smile. He must have felt damn proud to make you cum like this.

“That was good, you came beautifully for me.” He brushed the sweat away from your forehead before placing a gentle kiss. You watched him as he pulled back, his hand reaching for the zipper of his pants.

He didn’t have to say anything, your heart pounding in your chest as you moved your position. You were now on your knees on the soft carpet, waiting eagerly for him to release his cock. He held himself with one hand while the other reached for the back of your head, giving you a little push.

You took that as your sign and licked your lips before moving your face closer. You opened your mouth and he guided himself deep inside of you. Your pussy was dripping and you found yourself pumping your hips in time with his movements. You felt that he was close, his thrusts becoming almost frantic.

He pumped into you a few more times before letting out a groan and erupting into your mouth. You eagerly took all that he had to offer, and despite the gagging reflex, you managed to swallow everything. He looked down at you with the same devilish smile before pulling you off of him slowly.

“You did good, for most part.”

“I think I did perfect, sir.” You tried to stand up but your knees felt weak so he offered you his hand.

“Cheeky already? Although I suppose we’re finished for today.” You agreed, feeling satisfied for now.

After getting yourself cleaned and rearranging your wrinkled clothes, you both sat down on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder while his hand rubbed your back. You could have fallen asleep just like this, although you knew it was only a matter of minutes before you had to part.

“What do you think of your first lesson?”

“Didn’t learn much, did I?” His hand reached for one of your cheeks and he gave it a light pinch.

“Well then I apologize, I promise to be stricter for our next lessons.” His words might have sounded like a joke but the intensity of his gazed made your stomach do flips.

“You should go home.” You nodded and slowly got up from the couch.

He stood as well and went to unlock and open the door. As you stood in the door frame you gazed up at him and hoped for a kiss goodbye but he made no movement. Once the door was opened your relationship went back to a normal student-teacher one.

“I’ll be seeing you on Monday. No more excuses.” His face was stern this time, as to make you understand that skipping classes was no longer accepted.

“On Monday, and for the extra lesson-”

“I’ll text you.” That was all and you knew the conversation was over. You said your short farewells before you grabbed your coat and bag and left the classroom.

You reached your apartment and threw all your clothes in the laundry basket, feeling the need to take a shower but at the same time wanting this sticky feeling between your legs to last longer. After each meeting with Nanami you ended up craving more and more of his touch. You couldn’t wait for the next private lesson, but until then you had to play nice and attend the classes during the week.

As the hot water washed over your body your mind drifted to Nanami’s face, how concentrated he looked when he was giving you instructions, how relaxed he looked while reading the paper, how pleased he looked when you finished the desert. Your eyes suddenly popped open and you let out swear. You had forgotten the desert in the fridge-all that work and you didn’t even get to taste it.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 17

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 Hopefully you’ve guessed by now that is my “Billy Russo Deserves Real Love AU” as I totally refuse to accept what happened in S2! The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

“Are you sure about that, Billy?” He laughed nervously, but replied, “Very sure, sweetheart.”

You thought that was really brave of him, considering you were holding his favourite weapon in your hand. You shrugged, “I’ll get the information out of you one way or another, Russo.”

He laughed, “You’ll need to get past all the Marine training first, sweetheart!”

You rolled his cock between your palms then gave his balls a long firm squeeze, hearing a loud groan from him. “What was that you were you saying, sweetheart?” you snarked back at him. Laughing, he gasped, “Do your worst!”

You wrapped two fingers round his tip and squeezed quite hard, eliciting a low grunt from Billy. Then you really set to work on him, using a lethal combination of your mouth and hands. You could hear him whimpering above you, but thought you’d better not risk calling him a puppy again.

“What’s this surprise, hmm Russo?” you asked, before swirling your tongue right around his tip and down onto his slit, teasing it before dragging your teeth very gently down his length. Billy thrashed on the bed, crying out and grabbing a handful of your hair, “uhhh... unnhh!!!” You were now licking his cock very slowly and deliberately; all of a sudden Billy’s hips jerked forward like a pile driver, he shouted “Fuck!!!” and came, really hard.

You daintily wiped a finger across your lips once you’d finished swallowing Billy’s come and rested your chin on his chest, giving him your version of puppydog eyes. “Aww, c’mon Billy, tell me!” You tickled his lower stomach and smiled when you saw the muscles rippling and contracting under your touch. His head was lying right back on the pillows, chin upturned towards the ceiling and you gazed fondly at his beardy neck. He was huffing out breaths and finally tilted his head down towards you, gazing at you with wide eyes.

He merely shook his head, saying nothing and still gasping. “Cat got your tongue?” you teased, remembering how he’d ribbed you for being speechless after sex. His husky voice said, “No, an angel’s got it,” smiling down at you and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Whilst that little session just blew my goddamn fuckin’ mind as well as my balls, I’m not cavin’, sweetheart,” he smirked. “You’re just gonna have to be patient.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, you were gently shaken awake. You forced your eyes open, rubbing them while yawning, only to see Billy standing over you, bare naked and holding a tray. “Breakfast in bed, sweetheart,” he cooed, putting the tray down on the bedside table beside you. Trying to drag your eyes away from the view currently being presented to you, eventually you managed to stutter, “That.. uh, that’s uhh really sweet of you, Billy.”

Of course the Russo Smirk was in place, and his hands were now on his hips. He knew exactly what you were looking at, and why you were losing your words. He was putting himself on display for you like a peacock, you thought. Then your mind skipped to all those nature programmes you’d watched, where the female of the species sat on a branch and watched the males displaying themselves, before picking the best of the bunch and mating with them.

Hmmm, you thought, Mother Nature had something there - better than the humans did. Although you did take offence over the fact that the females were usually always small and dowdy and boring-looking. While they did get the pick of the males at the end of the day, you weren’t happy with that aspect of things. However, you suspected that underneath those unassuming exteriors, the females were actually done up like guest contestants on RuPaul’s Drag Race, and gave their chosen males a massive shock when they reached the bedroom (nest, hole in a tree, rainforest, whatever) and unveiled themselves in all their true splendour.

You tore your thoughts away from nature and its mysteries, and found yourself still staring at Billy’s lush body. Then you realised he was waving his hand in front of your face, “Hey! Hello! Hey, sweetheart!” You stared up at him, “Oh, uhhh, sorry - I was thinking about birds of paradise.” He burst out laughing, “Huh?” You shook your head, “I’ll explain it to you sometime. I’m not as crazy as I sound.”

He leapt full-length onto the bed beside you, bouncing you up slightly off the bed in the process. Reaching over and picking up the tray from the side, he placed it carefully on your lap. Your eyes widened in pleasure as you looked down at the plate... he’d made Eggs Benedict! “Oh my god, Billy - you didn’t!” He smiled, looking smug, “You told me it’s your favourite! Well, alongside scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. An’ I’ve already shown off my scrambled eggs to you, so here ya go... my Eggs Benedict but without the ham. Just like the lady ordered.”

You picked up the paper napkin and unfolded it, noticing that Billy had drawn a big heart on it with a little smiley face in the middle. Chuckling, you turned it towards him, “Really? Are you sure you were in the Marines, Billy Russo? A sniper? Trained in unarmed combat and still walking around with weapons concealed in every available part of your body??!!” He smiled, looking down at the tray and fiddling with the edge of it, face that cute shade of pink again.

His eyes came up and met yours again, “I know, I know!” Laughing, he carried on, “Look, angel... this is all still a bit unreal for me, okay? Spent my whole life bein’ a ‘never get involved’ kinda guy, to put it mildly - and politely.” His hand went to your face, and his thumb ran gently over your bottom lip. “Met you, an’... an’....boom! It’s like I’ve been hit by a fuckin’ grenade or sumthin’.” He laughed, “Knocked me clean out I reckon, yeah. Woke up and hey - I’m stoned in love with you. Still tryin’ to get my head round it, but it’s how I feel...” he shrugged, still stroking softly, “...maybe this is payback, y’know? Fate just thought, there’s that Billy Russo runnin’ all over town with lots of different women, let’s just teach him a lesson.”

His big dark eyes met yours, an apologetic look in them and a lock of hair falling cutely over one temple. He continued, “Let’s hit him so hard with a case of love at first sight it’ll knock him into next year, never mind next week.” His hand moved to your cheek, laying it gently against it, “And here I am. A lovesick Romeo, as a certain person put it. I’ve fallen so hard and so fast for you and it really, really scares me. I think if you left me, I... well, I think I’d die. I love you so damn much, angel.”

You were staring at him, mesmerised, as he spilled this to you. Couldn’t even get irritated at the passing mention of the Scorned Woman. Feeling your face blush, and sure you’d melted into a human puddle, you leant towards him and kissed him. With passion. He kissed you back, arm going round your neck and pulling you closer to him. You pulled away, putting your lips to his ear and whispering, “I love you, Russo.”

He reared back, a huge smile on his face, “You said it! You said ‘I love you’ to me!!!”

Still blushing, you nodded, “Uh-huh, I did.”

He grabbed you and pulled you up against his chest, and you heard a deep chuckle, “I knew pester power would work one-a these days!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d untangled yourself from him after that, saying that your eggs were getting cold. “Hey!” he said, “.... we’re talkin’ ’bout serious stuff here, sweetheart!”

You smiled, “Food is serious to me too, y’know!” He’d shaken his head, mock-sulking, “Okay then, here we go.” Your hand went to the cutlery, but he grabbed it before you could. Then he cut into one of the poached eggs and toasted sourdough base, and you watched entranced as the egg yolk slowly ran out of it like liquid gold and mixed in with the hollandaise sauce.

He made another couple of cuts with the knife and then stuck the fork into the bit of egg he’d cut off for you, swirling it around to pick up more sauce. “Open up, sweetheart,” he grinned, a suggestive look on his face. Rolling your eyes, you did as he said, and he placed the dripping forkload carefully into your mouth. Savouring it as you chewed, you mumbled round the mouthful, “This is really good! Did you make the sauce yourself? Or did it come out of a jar?”

Billy looked outraged, “A jar!! A jar??” he growled, “No, it did not! It was made from scratch by these fair hands,” and he held up his big hands in front of you, turning them back and forward. You looked lovingly at them; you adored Billy’s long slim fingers. “Okay, Chef - sorry I’m sure!” you laughed.

You’d let Billy feed you another forkful before grabbing the knife and fork off him, and then you started cutting up and shovelling the eggs into your mouth in a rather unladylike manner. Billy looked a bit offended, and you realised you’d spoiled his little romantic moment, so you ran your fingers through his hair, saying guiltily between mouthfuls, “Too slow, sweets. They’re getting cold, plus I’m really enjoying this so I needed to speed up my intake.” A small smile played over his lips, “Okay, then.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After breakfast and a nice soak in the bath together, where you absolutely didn’t give Billy a helping hand when he got a sudden and rampant hard-on (okay, yes - you did), the two of you threw on some casual clothes and went out for a walk to make the most of the sunny morning. He slid his hand into yours and interlinked fingers with you.

Billy’s place was on the Upper East Side in Lenox Hill, while you lived on the Upper West Side in the Lincoln Square neighbourhood, so you were on familiar territory as he steered you towards Central Park. Strolling through the park, no particular place to go, people-watching as you sat beside The Lake in the sun for a while. The two of you talked about a whole load of nothing before deciding to go for a late lunch in a diner Billy knew and liked back in his neighbourhood.

As you ate, you noticed that Billy was fidgeting quite a bit and kept looking at his watch. You poked him with the blunt end of your fork, “Billy!” He jumped slightly, and you carried on, “You’re fidgeting. Have you got somewhere to be or something? - you’re checking your watch every two seconds!” Not meeting your eyes, he cleared his throat while shaking his head, “Nah, angel - just keen to get back out for some sun and fresh air.” You laughed, “Well, Manhattan fresh air.” “Yeah, true,” he said, now looking at you, “...you nearly done?” “Not quite, Billy, got some beer left too.” He stroked your hand, “Oh, no rush!”

You continued to chew on your chicken wrap, watching Billy as you did so. He’d already finished his food and beer, and was still fidgety - pulling at the sleeves of his leather jacket, fiddling with his hair, moving the ketchup bottles around the table and back again.

What is wrong with that boy? you thought. He’s like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. Finally you finished your food and drained the last of your beer. Billy had already paid, bounding over to the counter to settle up without even waiting for the waitress to bring the check.

Once outside and heading back to the park for a further stroll, you tugged at his hand... you were being disgustingly ’coupley’ today, you thought, a bit annoyed at yourself, but what the hell... and asked, “Billy, what’s the surprise?” He just laughed, shaking his head. “Tell me!” Aware that you were sounding more than a bit brattish, you added, “...please, Billy, go on!”

“No, angel, cos then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” You managed to resist the need to stamp your foot, but your bottom lip was pouting of its own accord. He leant down and gave you a long, sexy kiss and you gave in, resigning yourself to the fact that the tall ex-Marine was not going to confess anything so you’d better stop sulking. You grabbed a handful of hair, and Billy laughed, taking his mouth off yours, “C’mon, sweetheart - let’s head back to my place. We’ll take the scenic route.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy took you on a very circuitous route back to his place, and it took well over an hour to make it back there. As you both walked along the hallway towards his apartment, he dug out his keys and then promptly dropped them before he could slot the key into the lock. You stared at him, what the hell was wrong with Russo? Whatever he might be, he was all about precision and attention to detail - he was not a klutz! Now you - yeah, you’d be the one to drop your keys but not Billy!

However, he’d quickly bent down and grabbed them off the floor, successfully unlocking and opening the door this time. You followed him inside, and then your mouth dropped open.

Soft music was playing on Billy’s state-of-the-art music system. There was an intimate little round table sitting in front of the big picture window in the lounge. A string of LED stars was strung across and down the sides of the window. The table was laid for two, looking like a restaurant place setting - gleaming champagne flutes, plates and cutlery, fancily folded linen napkins, a pearly pink peony in a slim vase in the middle, an ice bucket on a stand next to the table, a bottle of Krug champagne sitting up perkily in it. You swung round to Billy, “What....?”

But you looked up into empty space. Your eyes travelled downwards until they found Billy - down on one knee in front of you. A small velvet ring box was held - unopened as yet - in a vice-like grip in those long, slender fingers you loved so much, and Billy’s big dark eyes were gazing fearfully into yours.

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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jmeelee · 4 years

Text

Except at Waffle House

A Sterek AU inspired by that ridiculous Reddit post about the girl who’s BF keeps fighting the cook at Waffle House.

As far as boyfriend’s went, Braeden hit the jackpot when she met Derek Hale. She hadn’t been looking for a partner when she’d stepped into the first class of her Master’s program, but there he’d been, sitting dead-center of the third row in the cavernous lecture hall. Derek was… different. Intelligent, well-read, handsome, driven; he’d weathered tragedy and trauma with elegance, emerging on the other side with a soft-spoken grace. He made Braeden laugh with a wit so dry it kindled a fire in her belly. To other women, Derek’s obscene good looks—chiseled jawline, soft hair the color of midnight, ass you could bounce quarters off of—might have been his biggest draw, but for Braeden, it was Derek’s hard-won composure. When she decided to drop out of the Federal Marshall program and pursue her own independent career, Derek never batted an eye. When she came home from dangerous missions sporting cuts, scrapes and bruises, he didn’t rage over her playing fast and loose with her own welfare. He simply said, “I’m glad you’re home safe.” Derek never yelled, never lost his temper, never fought. He was a dream come true.

Except at Waffle House.

Truth be told, Braeden didn’t love Waffle House, but food was food and a girl’s gotta eat. Derek, however, had some deep-seated appreciation of the greasy chain that stretched back into his childhood, before his parents and older sister died. So while she preferred to eat elsewhere, Braeden found herself at Waffle House a few times a week, feeding Derek’s desire to reconnect with fond adolescent memories.

“Service might be a bit slower today,” said their usual waitress, who’s bright yellow name tag read Erica. She plopped an iced-tea in front of Braeden, and a steaming cup of black coffee before Derek. Erica snapped her bubblegum, pulled a tiny notepad from the pocket of her black apron, and snatched a stubby pencil out of her perky blonde ponytail. “Boyd’s training a new cook. What’re y’all having?”

Sure enough Boyd, the owner of the franchise, stood at the grill, patiently pointing at burners and griddles while the long-fingered hands of the tall, thin guy next to him flew around like drunk hummingbirds. Braeden figured the new cook was replacing Scott, who had quit the line to attend Veterinary school. When you spent several days a week eating there, the Waffle House family became your family.

Braeden was known to make her way through the various menu items. Some people had their tried and true staples, but she preferred to throw tradition to the wind. One day it was pecan waffles, the next, chili smothered hash browns. Today, a cheese steak omelet. Derek however was a creature of habit. “I’ll have the--”

“Steak and eggs,” Erica interrupted, graphite scratching over the paper. “Steak medium-rare and egg yolks slightly runny. Whole wheat toast, well done.”

“You got it,” Derek said agreeably, handing over his flimsy laminated menu. “Thanks, Erica.”

They filled the void between placing their order and receiving their food with anecdotes from work and a fast and furious game of hangman on the back of their paper placemats. Waffle House may be lacking in sophistication, but it’s service was always speedy.

“Here ya go.” Erica plunked plates in front of them and topped off Derek’s coffee. “Let me know if you need anything else.” But the call bell rang in the kitchen and she bustled away, already half-way down the aisle.

Three forkfuls of cheesy goodness passed her lips before Braeden realized Derek was poking at yellow lumps on his platter with a stiff triangle of toast, watching the yolks crumble like a house of sand. She finished chewing, swallowed. “Derek? Is something wrong?”

“It’s my eggs,” he lamented. “They’re super hard. Not runny at all.”

Had she known the repercussions of her next words, Braeden might have given them more thought. But unbeknownst to her, she was about to score red on the Waffle House Index of how prepared she was to weather the coming shit storm.

“Just call Erica back,” Braeden suggested, waving her fork in the air. “The kitchen can whip up another batch. No big deal.”

Famous last words.

Erica flounced over, ponytail swinging behind her. “Sorry about that, honey,” she chirped. “The new cook is still finding his groove. I’ll be right back with the correct order.”

Derek thanked her again but watched with hazel eagle eyes as she brought the plate back to the open kitchen, speaking to the mole-speckled guy at the grill whose bed head hair was barely contained under his dorky paper hat. Derek squirmed in his seat.

Braeden’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s a really complex call-in system these employees need to learn. And all that crazy code with the jelly and mayo packets? They’re bound to make mistakes sometimes.”

Derek grunted, watching Erica return with a heaping plate of eggs. This time they were scrambled. “These are scrambled,” he said stupidly, blinking at the fluffy little clouds.

Looking down, Erica seemed to see them for the first time. She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Ugh. Stiles.”

“Yeah, it’s a style of eggs, just not the one I ordered.”

“No,” Erica shook her head. “S-T-I-L-E-S. Stiles is our new cook. I promise I’ll be back with the correct eggs in a few.”

But ten minutes later a plate of thinly sliced hard-boiled eggs laid out in a flower pattern was placed in front of Derek. Braeden couldn’t help it, she threw back her head and laughed. “At this point, I think the cook’s fucking with you,” she told him.

But Derek wasn’t in on the joke. He pushed the plate away and threw money down on the table. “Hopefully both his cooking and his comedy routine improves,” Derek grumbled, pulling on his leather jacket.

Maybe now they could finally eat at some different restaurants.

----------

Three days later, they were back at Waffle House.

“There are over 1,500 other Waffle Houses in America,” Braeden said for the millionth time, waving her map app in Derek’s face. “Look, there’s one twelve miles away.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Derek scowled, sending his second plate of eggs back to the kitchen. First, they were poached, then they were part of a bacon egg and cheese sandwich.

The third time a single slice of toast sat on a wide white plate, a perfect circle cut from the center. Inside the circle was an egg. Cooked over-hard.

Braeden took a fortifying breath of humid maple-scented air.

“Okay I’ve had enough,” Derek yelled, standing up from the booth. “You,” he pointed at Stiles the cook, who stared back with a wide insolent mouth and tricky amber eyes. “Take this garbage back and cook my eggs the right way.”

Stiles slowly pulled a dirty apron over his neck, dislodging his ridiculous hat, and sauntered around the counter on long legs to stand in front of Derek, crowding into his personal space. Toe to toe, there was barely any difference in height between the two men, though their body types varied greatly. Derek was built like a brick shithouse, Stiles like a twink.

“Is there a problem, dude?” Stiles asked coolly, with the poker face of an Easter Island head. The only crack in his stone facade was the tiny quirk at the edge of his pert lips.

“Yeah,” Derek growled, pushing a finger into Stiles’ thin chest, “my problem is you and your shitty egg cooking skills.”

“Shitty?” The quirk blossomed into a fully grown smirk. “I’ve made you several plates of superb eggs, dude. It’s not my fault you won’t even try them.”

“Quit calling me dude.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Stiles winked and stared Derek down like a cowboy in a duel with nothing left to live for. Where had Boyd found this sadist cook?

“My name is Derek. Not buddy. Not dude. Derek.” The words leaked out between Derek’s clenched teeth. Braeden could slice American cheese off his jaw right now.

Stiles smiled like he’d won the lottery, angling his body slightly away from Derek, but never breaking eye contact. “Hey Waffle House, Derek here thinks my eggs suck. Do all of you fine, upstanding people think my eggs are good?” Stiles got several thumbs-up, two enthusiastic whistles, and one wrinkled middle finger from a white-haired man hunched over at the service counter. Stiles gave the guy a thumbs up. “Thanks for your honesty mister. It’s much appreciated.”

“What the hell was that? What are you trying to do?” Derek was snarling, and the look between both men was lethal. Eyes sparked. Lips wetted. Fingers twitched. Braeden held her breath, sure fists would start flying at any second. Derek made muted sounds of rage worthy of an aspiring ventriloquist. They were too close, puffed out chests a hair's-breadth apart.

Stiles shrugged. “My Waffle House, my rules. Rule number one, pull that stick out of your ass, Derek.”

Derek took Stiles by the surprisingly broad shoulders and backed him into the coat rack. “Next time I’m here, you’re gonna make me my food the way I order it.”

As quick as it started, the altercation was over. Derek backed out of the overcoats, and Stiles came stumbling after like two teenagers emerging from a closet after seven minutes in heaven. Derek made a beeline for the exit.

“Oh yeah?” Stiles yelled at Derek’s retreating back. “I'll show you sunny side up!”

The whole thing was made even more ridiculous by the merrily tinkling overhead bell as Derek slammed outside.

_______

“Feeling up for trying Schwarma tonight?” Braeden asked when they pulled into the lot and parked next to Stiles’ run down blue Jeep.

“Not a chance,” Derek replied, practically backflipping out of the Camaro.

----------

“Derek, NO!” she said.

DEREK, YES he heard, and Derek, her Derek, the pinnacle of poise, yeeted himself over the counter, grabbing the yellow crossover uniform tie around Stiles’ neck.

----------

“At least Stiles didn’t spike Derek’s drink with meth,” Erica shrugged. Today the two men were rolling around on the greasy tile floor.

“Are you being ironic?” Braeden asked, taken aback by the seriousness of Erica’s tone.

“Waffle House is an irony-free zone,” Boyd informed her with a straight face. “I’m just thankful there’s no AR-15s or nudity today.”

“Yet,” Erica leered.

What the hell happened at Waffle House?!

----------

“I’ll have an Angus patty melt, and a slice of Aunt Maggie’s Triple Chocolate pie, please,” Braeden ordered as chaos descended around her. “It’s like when I have food in front of me, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.”

“That’s the magic of Waffle House,” Erica said sagely.

“It’s something,” Braeden replied.

----------

She was scattered, smothered, covered in food debris, collateral damage from Stiles and Derek’s ongoing war.

“Don’t worry, Hunny,” a friendly woman in the adjacent booth told her. “Throw a tide pod in with that shirt and the stains will come right out! Just don’t eat it like those crazy kids are doing these days.”

“Who in their right mind would eat a tide pod?” Braeden asked.

The answer was a serious side-eye. “Who in their right mind would keep returning to a restaurant to tussle with the cook?”

Touche.

----------

Waffle House had a special Valentine’s Day candlelight dinner, which Braeden could have happily gone her whole life not knowing about or participating in.

Erica sat them right next to the fancy new digital touchscreen jukebox. Stiles came out, fed the machine twenty dollars, and set it to play “I Touch Myself” by Divinyls two-hundred and forty times on repeat.

Braeden wasn’t sure if Derek touched himself that night, but any guy who took her on a Valentine date to Waffle House and proceeded to fist-fight the cook certainly wasn’t going to be touching her.

__________

Braeden parked down the road and walked to Waffle House, unsurprised to find Derek’s car in the parking lot. She’d quit going with him two weeks ago. To so many hungry, lost, and seriously hammered people, Waffle House’s warm yellow glow was a beacon of salvation. For Braeden, who watched from the peaceful vantage point of the parking lot as her boyfriend grappled the skinny cook into a headlock and proceeded to give him a vicious noogie, it would forever be a reminder that Derek was the perfect guy for her, except when it came to Stiles. Once upon a time, Braeden appreciated the fact that women everywhere were always looking at her man. He turned heads, but none of them ever seemed to turn his. Except at Waffle House, and it wasn’t a woman.

Derek walked out of the restaurant twenty minutes later to find her sitting on the hood of his black Camaro. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” he asked, monotone. She wondered at Drek’s equanimity, which has always seemed so inviting to her before. Maybe Braeden just didn’t inspire passion in Derek, the way Stiles obviously did.

She nodded.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

She shook her head. “Not unless you can tell me what this is really about. Not unless you can tell me who you are. Because this person isn’t the Derek I thought I knew.”

Lately, she’d been thinking a lot about a proverb her mother used to recite when she was younger. Briseann an dúchais trí shúile an chait. The true nature of someone’s character is revealed through their eyes. Derek’s head swiveled between Braeden and the view through the glass window, where Erica was helping Stiles off the floor, and Boyd was mopping up spilled chocolate milk, and several patrons were still surreptitiously filming the whole ordeal on their cellphones. Derek’s eyes followed Stiles like a wolf stalking prey. “Shit, I—”

“Derek,” she said, sliding down the hood and coming to stand before him, “you were an amazing boyfriend and a great guy.” Braeden sighed. “Except at Waffle House.”

Derek shoved his fists into the front pockets of his too-tight jeans, scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the brick facade of the restaurant. “Yeah,” he relented. “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too, Derek.” She gently patted his stubbled cheek. “Good luck with-” she gestured toward the golden fluorescent lights, the black and yellow signage, at Stiles standing stock still and Bambi-eyed behind the counter, holding a chunk of frozen bacon to the top of his head- “whatever the hell this is. I’ll see you around.”

She waved good-bye to Stiles through the window, who raised a hesitant hand back to her, and walked out of the parking lot.

Roughly a year and a half later, Braeden thumbed through a used newspaper while she waited at her local coffee shop for the barista to call her name. She flipped from business to sports, passing the society section on her way, when a pithy headline caught her attention.

Waffle Brawls lead to Wedding Bells.

Huh. So that’s what all the fighting was really about.

Underneath the catchy title was a byline: “Groom learned sixteen new ways to cook eggs during fearsome flirtation.”

“Caramel Macchiato for Braeden!”

Braeden tossed the paper onto the tabletop, leaving it open to Stiles and Derek’s wedding announcement, and left the coffee shop with a laugh on her lips.

You couldn’t make this shit up. Except at Waffle House.

__________

As per usual tumblr won’t let me link to anything so the Reddit post that inspired this story so you can find that in the notes! Thanks for reading hope it made you laugh.

#sterek #eternalsterek #haleinski #sterek fic #please don't take this seriously it is crack #outsider pov #braeden pov #but trust me Sterek always get a happy ending

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #358

“i know the pieces fit, ‘cuz i watched them fall away”

Would you ever own a Great Dane as a pet? Oh Lord, my mom wants one so bad. She looooves big dogs. I wouldn't, though. I don't want another dog, period. What was or is your favorite quality about your recent ex? Her resilience, strength, creativity, loyalty, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. lol. Have you ever witnessed a human being giving birth in real life? No, and I NEVER fucking will. What about an animal? Yeah, cats. What kind of things do you enjoy reading about on sites like Wikipedia? I sometimes do that for straightening out game plots after watching a let's play if I have remaining questions. Wikipedia tends to do well with compressing it. Which country’s cuisine that you haven’t tried, would you be interested in sampling? (e.g. Moroccan, Thai etc.) I wouldn't know because I'm not educated enough on foreign cuisines. What’s the last movie you watched on your own? The Shining, I think, forever ago. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? Scrambled. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? I've never tried. Are you happy with your relationship with God, or do you want more from it? I don't have one. Do you struggle with boredom? Very, very severely. I have absolutely awful anhedonia; I'm pretty much constantly bored. Literally. I just... find things to pass the time, even if I'm not really enjoying myself. What famous person do you wish you could be friends with? I'm going to assume here you don't mean a significant other, because uh... y'all been known lmaooo. I would really love to be friends with Gab Smolders (I know that's not her real name, just using her YT name), because we have very similar interests. As well, Suzie Hanson is a fucking SWEETHEART. I miss her channel. :( At some point I want to purchase some stuff from her store to support the darling. Man, thinking of this question, there's really a lot. What would you do if you were famous? Hate it, haha. Do you wish you hair were shorter or longer? It's at a fine length right now. What photo editing website or software do you use? Lightroom and Photoshop. What hair color looks best on you and what’s your natural color? I think my hair looked best black. It's naturally brown. What is your favorite show to watch? Meerkat Manor. It is so, so comforting to me. Are your maternal/parental instincts strong? Not with kids, oddly enough. I've only ever really encountered strong protective instincts with significant others like when they're sick or something like that. In school, do you/did you work better by yourself or in a group? I absolutely worked better alone. I hated group work. Do you know anyone who has a collection of old records? My mom did, once upon a time. I feel like I know someone who does now... but idk. Do you go on any forums often? Just RP ones. Would you ever agree to an open relationship with someone? Nnnnope. Do people always say you’re too thin? Uh, I have the opposite problem. Could you design a whole web page yourself? Not from scratch, no. I've only done so on free sites that give you the bare bones and easy editing. Have you ever cooked an entire dinner for your family? Definitely not. Do you prefer piano music or violin music? Ohhhh, both are beautiful, but I have to say violin. Who do you tend to get in fights with the most? My mom, I guess, not that we fight a lot. Are you attracted to spooky and macabre things naturally? YEP. Have you ever bobbed for apples? Were you successful? No. It's disgusting if you're going after others, and besides, I HATE water up my nose and have never quite figured out how to block it out without plugging it. Hypothetically speaking, if you had a child [too young to make their own decisions], what would you dress him/her up as for Halloween? It would depend on what their interests were. Do you intend to take your children trick-or-treating, if ever you have any? I'm not having kids, but if I did, I definitely would if they wanted to go. What is the coolest jack-o-lantern you have ever seen? Now THAT'S hard, I really don't know. What was your favorite candy to get from trick-or-treating? What about your least favorite? Reese's was my favorite, and I never liked Tootsie Rolls. Did you ever receive anything that wasn’t candy? Maybe? I feel like I have... Have you ever carved a really extensive pumpkin, or were they always simple carvings? Yes; I once carved a pumpkin with a raven design with "and quoth the raven, 'nevermore'" written into the back. The raven wasn't just a flat cut-out, but rather carved in layers so the light came through differently at certain depths. Are you more interested in cute, funny, “sexy”, or scary costumes? For myself, absolutely the scary ones. In general though, I'm not gonna BS ya, I love me some sexy costumes, haha, but also still scary and particularly gory ones. Have you ever intimidated or made another person feel legitimately threatened? If not, do you think that you could ever be seen as scary? I seriously hate admitting this, but Mom has confessed that my yelling has scared her before when scolding our former dog that I fucking hated. In what ways do you or would you need to be validated by a partner? (For example, liking your posts/talking about you on social media, or perhaps by doting on your with gifts.) I absolutely need words of affirmation. I just need to hear a lot that you do still like/love me. Also, if you're unwilling to actually act like we're a couple in front of ANYONE, like you're ashamed of me or something, byyyyeeee. Do you tend to succeed by weaning yourself off of something or by quitting cold turkey? It depends, I guess. Is there a specific type of pet breed/size/etc. that you don’t want? Why not? Any that have underlying medical issues, like pugs, spider ball pythons, Persian cats, etc. etc... It's just a moral thing; I don't want to support the deliberate continuation of poor genes in animals for human monetary gain. It's just wrong to me. Away from breeds, I also don't really want free-roaming animals after my cat passes, because I don't want to endanger the reptiles and invertebrates I want as pets in the future. Have you ever lived in a notoriously dangerous area? If not, would it bother you to do so? I grew up in one, yes. I never want to again. Has a friend’s significant other ever interfered with or damaged your friendship? What about a significant other of yours damaging a friendship? No. What, if anything, is something that you put pressure on yourself about? What do you imagine would happen if you did not live up to this expectation? Getting a job nowadays. I do NOT want to imagine what my life will be like if I never find employment. If you have been in a serious relationship, have you and your partner ever discussed lifetime plans that clashed? Did you reconcile them or did you break up? If you have not been in a relationship, what are some issues that would be deal-breakers? This hasn't happened, no. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now would you accept? Honestly, I want to try weed to see if it would help my anxiety, BUT I'm unwilling to ever smoke something, so no. Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? Yeah. Do you listen to country music? No. Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No. Were you ever a trouble maker? Not really, no. Do you shave your legs? Hell, that's debatable by this point. I haven't since this past October, but I *would* if for whatever reason someone might see my legs. I am not overexaggerating when I say I naturally have men's legs as far as hair goes, oof. Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? That's what my dad always drank when he was an alcoholic. He doesn't touch alcohol now. Have you ever gotten sloppy drunk at a party? No. Have you ever slept naked? Accidentally. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? I really don't think I could be. Do you actually like going to school? I never did. Have you ever really been in a “complicated relationship”? How did that work out? In your opinion, what makes a relationship “complicated”? No. I don't care enough to go into what a complicated relationship means, I think it's pretty obvious. Who was the first person you’ve ever fallen in love with? Is this a person you’re still in contact with? How do you know you’re in love with someone? Jason, and no. And you just... know. It's a wordless feeling . Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something? Uhhhh I don't know, really. Well, I used to be AWFUL at picking my eyebrows, particularly when anxious, but I have gotten better at that. I still kinda do it, though. Onto the next question, I don't believe I've "conquered" a fear, but rather they just faded with time on their own. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Yeah. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? No. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record? No. Can you sing your ABC’s backwards? I can't. Do you like Skittles? I love Skittles. Do you know how to read music? I used to. Who would you say has made the biggest impact on your life? Really, Jason. He ultimately led to me getting proper treatment for my depression, which changed my life. I'm in no way giving him credit for it, but you get what I mean. You can only listen to THREE CDs for the rest of your life. What are they? Black Rain and Ozzmosis by Ozzy Osbourne, and uhhh... perhaps The Black Album by Metallica. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it? Yeah, but it's way too small for me now. It's from Back To The Future, when we actually reached the date in the movie. Have you ever done another person’s make-up? Ha, I gave Jason a makeover once. Honestly, do you double dip? Not if I'm sharing the dip with other people. Who were you last on an elevator with? My mom. Do you know anyone that has a black belt in karate? Not to my knowledge. How often do you wear hats? Never. Who is the youngest gay person you know? *shrug* Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal? I've seen cats eat mice and stuff as a kid. What is the strangest, most “out there” thing you believe? Some people I'm sure would consider the fact I believe the government was involved in 9/11 as "out there," but when you look into it, it's far from "out there." Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not? It depends on how they act about it, not what they keep in their head. Now if they have just purely hateful beliefs that demonize another's existence, then no, we can't get along. Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait? Painted, yes, for an art class. Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Bees, generally. Especially if we're talking things like wasps, who are just demon spawns. Would you rather donate time, blood, or money? That's a really hard question, but I guess time? Like I'm thinking volunteer work and stuff, or listening to and comforting someone. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're sexy on absolutely no one. Last strong smell you can remember smelling? Ugh, gasoline. This one car in front of my mom and me smelled awful. Last healthy thing you ate? Apples. Do you know anybody who was abused? Emotionally, yes. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you have a steering wheel cover? Mom's car doesn't. What do you think of when you see sharp knives? This is really morbid, but I will immediately envision what it would be like to be stabbed. I'm very afraid of knives. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; choose your route. The back roads, of course. And let me bring my camera.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''schism'' by tool

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peakyblinders1919 · 4 years

Text

Prove It

Dancing with the Devil Pt. 2

Overview | Pt 1

The polished oak was cold under Isabella’s feet as she made her way down the stairs to where breakfast waited. 8am everyday like clockwork. For her to carry out the usual routine of sitting at one end of a ridiculously long dining table across from her mother, who’s head was buried in the days newspaper, to poke at a poached egg and half sausage before she would excuse herself and escape the confides of the prison for long as she could get away with. “Morning” she managed a smile which was wasted as her mother barely even lifted her head in her direction, taking her seat. “Morning Isabella, sleep well?”

“I did Mother, did you?” She didn’t care about how her mother slept, it was a common courtesy and respectable. She was taught to keep her responses short or risk being seen as too smart or too opinionated or too talkative. Even with her own mother. But that wasn’t Isabella. “Papa has a meeting this morning?” Being the man of the house, he wasn’t always around at meals and such, he had more important things to do with the estate and keeping their reputation pristine. She asked because some part of her needed to know; meetings never started before nine o’clock unless they were important or it was with someone her father didn’t want others seeing or risk losing that pristine reputation he was working so hard for.

“Soon. I believe so, and an important one at that so you’d best stay out the way.”

“Don’t I always” Isabella said with a hint too much attitude for her mothers liking, causing her to raise her eyes from the paper in disapproval, scorning her without a word. Isabella sighed, dropping her fork where she had been picking at the yolk than ran along her plate, taking that as her cue to leave. “I’ll be somewhere on the grounds if you need me.” She left the room quickly as to avoid any potential questioning, eager to bask in the fresh spring air that was waiting for her outside. “So you’d best stay out the way” she mimicked her mother under her breath, reaching into her brazier to retreat her trusty pack of chesterfield cigarettes before quickly regretting her thoughtless haste and shoving them back into position when she heard her fathers voice along the corridor, her frequent smoking around the grounds without having yet been caught causing her to have gotten too comfortable, careless even. She straighten up her dress before approaching the corner, hesitating as she heard a second voice responding to her father.

She was just far enough that the conversation her father and the muster clown were acing was inaudible, unable to make out any words. She didn’t recognize the voice, not that she ever really knew who her father was meeting and keeping company with. She was just about to keep making her way towards the door leading to the East gardens. They were the least looked after part of the estate, which made it perfect for smoking in secret. But the drill of the recognizable accent stopped her in her tracks. It was harsh, rough around the edges, not posh in the slightest. Quiet the opposite actually. Gritty. Brummie. Since when did her father surround himself with people like that?

This was enough to draw Isabella in, recalling that the only unusual company her father had had of late were the unfamiliar faces she had spotted at the party a week earlier. The voice she could hear was definitely harsh enough to belong to one of the burley statues she had witnessed, though not the black sheep she had wound up fighting off a soft spot for. No, he had been different. It was only now she found herself questioning whether he had been a Brummie also, she hadn’t noticed an accent as thick as this one in his tone if he had been.

Before she had chance to attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation she heard the door to her fathers office shut tightly, their voices dropping dead with it.

Even with her level of quick wit there was no way she was going to wiggle her way into her father's office, especially if she was right and he was keeping company with men he didn't want to be seen with. While it had peaked her interest for a moment, just like that she was uninterested, her cigarette case itching heavy in her bra. She made her getaway out the back door. The east gardens were deteriorated beyond repair, in her mothers opinion, but the annuals regrew every year in their white, yellow, and pink glory. The garden was sparse, yes, and the marble benches were cracked and weathered, the gazebo falling apart but to Isabella it was a beautiful place to be alone and smoke. She perched herself on a bench in the sun, lighting her cigarette, inhaling and exhaling. She was able to enjoy herself knowing she was completely alone and no one would ever bother to look for her here when there was the undeniable snap of a twig under foot. "Shit." Muttering under her breath, she inhaled quickly a few more times to get her buzz from the nicotine before waving the smoke from the air around her and stomping the cigarette out before her company rounded the corner.

“Well if it isn’t the lady herself,” his voice startled her despite having known someone was approaching, not having expected those words nor the voice that accompanied them. He stood with that same mischievous smirk on his lips, perfectly gelled hair and briefcase in hand. She strangely found herself having to fight back a smile at the excitement of his unexpected visit, replacing it instead with a roll of the eye as she retrieved her cigarettes once again, lighting a fresh one. “Waste of a cigarette” she muttered, about to fumble for her lighter when he presented one before her, flicking it once to produce the small flame.

“Well this certainly isn’t your fathers office” he squinted taking in the surroundings of overgrown ivy snaking across the once grand roman statues.“I was directed to follow the corridor along and take a right and it seems here I am.”

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at this, spluttering a small loud of smoke into the air. “Let me guess, Anna directed you? She’s never been too good with directions. She was mistaken, take a left.”

Michael sighed, setting his briefcase down on the bench next to her, close but not too close. “Ah, a left.” He pulled a cigarette out of his silver etched case, lighting it up and inhaling deeply. “I’m sure my company’s not necessary right now, better to be out here with you.” His a lips upturned at the corners of his mouth, a smile as he watched her. “You know, in case I need to cover for you. Lady Isabella can’t be caught smoking.”

Isabella scowled at him while taking another long drag, scooting up on the bench so he had room to sit if he so wished. “Just Isabella will suffice.” He took her invitation and sat beside her, allowing her to see him up close without the glare of artificial light for the first time. He was very handsome she couldn’t deny him that, his features youthful and wholesome, though his eyes were different. She prayed the intensity of them hadn’t welcomed her cheeks to flush.

“Well... just Isabella, when I met you the other night I didn’t have you pegged as a smoker.” He was handsome, yes, but he confirmed that there wasn’t anything special or different about him, he was just like all the other aristocratic young men she’d been forced to meet; heads swelled to an unimaginable size with pride and ego. She sighed heavily, expelling the smoke into the air in front of them, smoke from both of their cigarettes dancing in the air like they had. “That’s because you know nothing about me. Just like a man, thinking he knows everything about everyone.” This wasn’t a game anymore, it was personal. But she was still winning

“I know you’re a lady and lady’s don’t smoke”

“Well, this one does” she threw the stump of burning ember onto the ground and twisted it into the gravel with her foot. “I apologise that I’m so far from the angelic ideals of a lady that you seem to know of. Now, did you just come and sit here to remind me every second of my burdening title or did you have something worthwhile to say Mr. Grey?”

In Michael’s eye it was still a game, one that he was winning now as her annoyance was clear and he had succeeded in riling her up. He tisked somewhat disapprovingly, shaking his head. “I’ve just never met a lady is all. But since you say your not like the others, sneaking around the estate smoking, why don’t you prove it, huh?”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” There was a sour taste in her mouth, whether from the cigarette or Michael’s sudden change in attitude, she wasn’t completely sure. She was ready to protest, to stomp on his foot for accusing her of such things and degrading her and her title, but one look into his emerald eyes and she forgotten everything she was going to do. The cheeky grin, she recognized it as a sign of victory. He had her exactly where he wanted her, but she knew her place of the chess board. He intrigued her, his life somewhere far from hers intrigued her. “What did you have in mind?”

“Meet me tonight at 8, I’ll have a car waiting for you at the end of the drive. Let’s see how you fare outside the walls of this castle of yours.” He stood, picking up the brief case and brushing down the custom made suit. “I can’t.” Isabella protested almost instantly without thinking, seeing his eyebrows raised as he turned back her and that was question enough for her to change her mind. “Fine. I’ll be there. But have the car parked further along the lane than the end of the drive, way further.” Michael chuckled under his breath at the bit of childlike innocence creeping through, afraid of being caught. He began his walk back to the stone archway he had mistakenly stumbled upon earlier. “I’ll see you then. Left, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Michael, why exactly are you here to speak with my father anyway?” She asked before he stepped back through the door, the first genuine thing she had wanted to ask him since they’d began. “Business.”

#peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #michael gray fanfic #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray imagines #finn cole imagine #peaky blinders oc #OC moodboard #oc X michael gray

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noonachronicles · 4 years

Text

Everlong Pt. 10 - Final

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 10k

Warnings: Language. An uncomfortable, mildly sexual moment.

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy.

A/N: This is it guys. I am so sad this is over and so proud of what it became. For me it’s so much better than what it was when it was just an idea. I’m really so in love with everyone that stuck around for every part. Everyone that liked and shared or commented or sent an ask. You all are really the motivation that kept me going and brought me to finishing this story. I appreciate you all so very much. I’ve worked hard and hope that the ending is everything you wanted!

Update Tag: Here’s hoping the tags work this time! @kathrynwynterbourne, @keepthelightoff, @blue-lungs , @violagoth, @un-idntfied, @optimizche, @de-gabyconamor, @134340-cm, @wonderful39530, @ohgeezitsbreadgenie

Moodboard by Bae @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Nobody bakes for the baker, nobody cooks for the chef. It was something you’d heard a hundred times. It was completely unfair. And unfortunately, you knew it to be very true. Usually you didn’t find it too heartbreaking. You loved to cook and you loved to bake, being in the kitchen brought you peace and joy like nothing else could. Sometimes however, you imagined, it might be nice to be pampered. Jiho had never been really great about doing that for you. That’s why the smell of bacon hitting your nose before you even opened your eyes for the day was new and surprising.

“Wake up, y/n.” Jiyong whispered against your ear.

His scruff scratched your cheek before he pulled away. You were convinced this was a dream, everything good had been recently. You sunk deeper into the heavenly pillow, a smile spread over your lips. You were glowing.

You felt his body lean back into yours, “No, seriously. If you don’t wake up I’m eating all this bacon and leaving you nothing. I don’t care. I won’t feel bad.”

Smile replaced with a pout you opened your eyes. Jiyong was dangling a piece of bacon in front of your face. He was leaning on the pillow next to you, a broad smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” he said before pulling the bacon to his mouth and taking a bite. Your mouth fell open and you stared at him. “What? Oh! Did you want that?”

“Why are you being mean this morning?” you whined.

“Would someone who’s being mean make you this feast?” he asked as he pushed himself up.

With a groan you followed suit and sat up. You weren’t sure why but the sight made you laugh. There were four breakfast in bed trays lined up down the center of the mattress. Each of them overflowing with breakfast food staples. It almost made you cry. You’d never seen anything like it before, no one had done anything like this for you. Looking over at Jiyong you blushed, but of course, he would.

“You lied!” you said grabbing a slice of bacon off one of the trays, “You said you couldn’t cook.”

“Usually I can’t. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you up, so I decided to make breakfast and when the first dish came out so well I tried another and then another and then…” he gestured towards the trays.

“Jiyong,” you said poking your fork at the plate of eggs benedict, “you poached an egg. That’s very impressive.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t know what that means.” he said drinking from a cup that he’d had hidden in his lap between his crossed legs.

“What are you drinking over there?” you asked with a grin.

“Coffee, same as you.” he nodded toward your cup.

You looked at the milk mustache that sat atop his real mustache, “Give me some chocolate milk, Jiyong.”

He pulled his glass to his chest, “No! It’s mine!”

“Fine, you don’t have to share.” you laughed and muttered under your breath “My god…”

“Well, if you’re gonna call me that.” he smirked but just for a second before the both of you froze.

The blood in your veins started to prickle at the memory of your dream. The feeling of his hands moving over your body ghosted over you. His mouth hot against your skin, teeth dragging against your lip. The sound of his breathless voice in your ear, ‘Yes, I am your god’.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes fluttered towards him, “huh?”

“Oh I- are you ready for today? Are you excited to see Jiho?”

You hesitated and then asked, “Don’t judge me?”

“When have I ever?” he asked in return.

“Do you think...would it be okay if we stay here a little longer? I’m just not ready yet.”

With something of a pout he nodded, “Of course. We can stay as long as you need.”

“Just a few extra hours.” you said quietly, “Nothing crazy.”

You felt guilty. You should have been more excited to be back with Jiho. To go home. To get back to life as you’d known it. Thinking about how guilty you felt only left a heavy weight on your chest. Part of you wished you didn’t know exactly why you didn’t want to leave and why you weren’t excited. You wished you weren’t fully aware of your thoughtless, selfish desire to stay with Jiyong just a little longer. To just sit and enjoy the feeling you had when you were around him. You’d been so worried about what you’d do if you saw Jiho and lost that feeling. You worried about what that would mean.

“We haven’t even gone down to the beach.” Jiyong said suddenly, seeing the distraught look on your face and the way your mood had dropped. “You can’t leave paradise without even going to the beach, right?”

“Yes! Exactly.” you brightened, “We have to eat all this food and then go down to the beach. Me and you and the best day ever.”

With a nod he grabbed the syrup from one tray and poured it over waffles from another. “I’ve never heard a more perfect plan.”

You looked over the trays feeling better, and hungrier. On one of the trays he’d even placed a narrow vase with several flowers. You noticed one of them had snapped and was limp against the others. Your finger brushed against the soft red petals and you smiled.

“Do you remember…” you started and shook your head, of course he wouldn’t. “Nevermind.”

“Remember what?” he asked expectantly.

“These are the same kind of flowers that you brought me...at the cafe. One of them was even snapped like this.” you smiled fondly at the flowers before turning back to your plate.

“That’s funny, I hadn’t noticed.” Jiyong smiled and took a big bite of waffles.

There was no reality where two people could finish off as much food as Jiyong had made, but luckily you were in paradise. It did take a while, probably hours, but you hadn’t been paying attention. You’d been preoccupied with Jiyong and how he was being particularly funny this morning. He often made you smile but today you were red in the face, pained cheeks, tears rolling down your neck laughing. All of it was made even better by the fact that he was too. Not a smirk or a grin, but huge teeth and gums laughter. He tried to turn away or cover his face with the back of his hand as if embarrassed by the way he laughed. You saw it anyway, and you cherished it.

Once the plates were cleaned you left his room for your own to get ready for the beach. With no surprise to you the water had felt perfect beneath your feet. The sun was warm but not too hot. And your favorite part of all was that the sand didn’t cling to your wet body so you were free to move between the ocean waves and the sandy beach as often as you wanted without discomfort.

The two of you even swam out into the water to a rock island not too far off shore. You snorkeled around the island, exploring a brilliantly colored coral reef. You’d loved the different fish and their beautiful patterns. Jiyong loved the way you’d excitedly point out every single one of them to him as if he wasn’t right beside you the whole time. There’d even been sea turtles that came close enough to touch, and you watched a pod of dolphins as they swam passed the island.

When you got back to the shore you laid out in the sand. You were still close enough that the waves moved over the tops of your feet before moving back with the tide. Jiyong laid beside you, arms behind his head.

“This is so nice.” you said after a while, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the sun on your face.

“It really is perfect.” Ji mumbled beside you, so relaxed he was nearly asleep.

“There’s really only one thing I can think of that would make this better.” you smiled and envisioned your perfect scenario.

Both you and Jiyong jolted up into a sitting position at the feel of the earth shaking beneath you.

“What did you imagine?” he asked with genuine concern, “An earthquake?”

Still smiling, you pointed over his shoulder. Just as you’d pictured it you watched as Cerberus pounded down the sandy beach with complete elation at the sight of the two of you. All three tongues dangling from their respective mouths. Jiyong’s mouth fell slightly ajar until the three headed beast skidded to a stop before him kicking sand onto his legs. He closed his mouth and scrunched his face as a long wet tongue slid up his cheek and then another, and another.

“My do-” he paused petting two heads with his hands while you gave affection to the third, “You, me, and Cerb? This is your perfect idea of paradise?”

With a little blush you nodded passed the three headed pooch, “Oh, it gets better.”

He gently pushed two of Cerberus’ big heads to the side so he could see just passed him where six three headed puppies were clumsily sprinting their way through the sand. In that moment Jiyong was sure he had never been so in love in his life. He’d never felt so much warmth or happiness in all of the millennia of his existence. He knew without a doubt that he would never find anyone that got close to you for the rest of eternity. And if you didn’t choose him, or at least choose life he wasn’t sure what he would do. Wanting to kiss you, damn the repercussions, he turned but you were already getting kisses all over your face and arms by no less than twelve tiny puppy tongues. You were absolutely radiating with joy.

Giggling as you looked over at him you said, “This is the best day of my life.”

He grinned as Cerberus nudged his chest for attention, “Mine too.”

Apparently your best day couldn’t last forever and Jiyong advised you that if you really didn’t want to stay another night, which he assured you he’d be just fine with, that you should make your way to the pavilion before the sun started setting. Part of you was already overwhelmed with guilt for even staying this long and enjoying yourself this much. With an almost pathetically sad goodbye, you sent Cerberus and the puppies off back down the beach. Then you and Jiyong went inside to get ready for the last leg of your underworld adventure.

Standing in the bathroom doing your hair and makeup made you think back to when you were getting ready for Jiho’s funeral. It felt like years ago. Everything felt like years ago. The reality was it hadn’t even been an entire week since the afternoon you’d seen Jiyong and he offered to take you on this insane trip that you’d been half convinced was just going to be him offing you in a dark parking lot outside the city.

In the closet you found the clothes you’d been wearing the whole time and a second option, a dress. The decision really made itself for you. The dress was beautiful, a vintage swing style dress in a red and black brocade fabric. It had three-quarter sleeves and a deep v neck. Sitting beneath the dress was a pair of bold red shoes. They had a low heel and buckled around the ankle. After you dressed you stood in front of the mirror for sometime. You gave a small twirl and watched the skirt flair up. You thought the only thing missing was a necklace.

Walking out of the bathroom, you saw the pen on the dresser and next to it was a black velvet box. Inside of the box was a gold necklace with some sort of gold leaf pendant hanging from it. Looking at the closed bedroom door you wondered if Jiyong had left it or if you had conjured it up. Either way, you shoved the pen in the pocket hidden in the folds of your skirt and clasped the necklace around your neck. The pendant fell at just the perfect length against your chest. The completed outfit made you feel pretty.

Pretty for Jiho, a very judgmental voice in your head wondered, or pretty for Jiyong.

When you opened the door Jiyong was leaning against the back of the couch with his hands in his pockets. As soon as he realized you were coming out he stood up properly. He was frozen as he looked at you, but you’d never notice since you’d been too busy staring back at him.

He was stunning. Of course you thought he was always beautiful but this was a level of perfection that made you want to scream. His suit was pinstriped, with a black vest and a black shirt underneath. There was a vibrant pop of color with a red tie and matching pocket square. His hair was perfectly coiffed, and showed off the flawless fade of his undercut. A jaw so sharp you could cut your lips off if you tried to kiss it. One of his perfectly shaped eyebrows raised slightly, and there was a sweet pout on his lips like a boy looking fondly at something he wasn’t allowed to have but wanted desperately.

“You look beautiful.”

“You shaved.”

The two of you spoke at the same time and then laughed awkwardly.

“You look so...professional.” you said giving him one more look over before dropping your eyes to your shoes.

“I have some business to take care of after I drop you off.” That had you looking back up at him quite curiously, but he quickly changed the subject. “You look amazing. Jiho is a really lucky soul.”

“Oh, no…” you blushed, “It’s just what was in the closet.”

“We match.” he noted quietly.

Your face brightened with a smile, “We do! Come here.”

You snatched his hand in yours and pulled him into the bedroom. Standing in front of the mirror you adjusted his tie and then stood beside him. He stood perfectly still as you tucked your arm under his, and rested your hand at the crook of his elbow. Looking over at the mirror you smiled fondly and then lifted your free hand and made a clicking noise with your mouth.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Mental picture.” you said dropping your hand to your side, “I can’t believe we only took one this whole time.”

“Make me a copy?” he asked and you turned to face him.

In an instant you forgot what you wanted to say. You were still tucked into him pretty close. A breathless gulp made its way down your throat as your eyes found his lips. When you looked up to catch his eyes he was staring at your mouth. Instinctually you ran your tongue over your lip, and you watched him inhale sharply at the sight. It was so quiet between the two of you. You didn’t really want him to say anything. You wanted him to kiss you and you didn’t care about the rest of it anymore.

“Ji-”

“Where’d you get that necklace?” he asked.

So taken aback by the question you physically stepped back from him.. “What?”

“This necklace,” he said lifting his hand to cup the gold pendant in his palm, “where’s it from? What does it mean to you?”

You shrugged, “It was on the dresser. I thought you’d left it. I actually...I’m not sure what it is. I just thought it was pretty.”

“So you just conjured it up?” he asked and you nodded. A hint of a smile crossed his mouth, “It’s, um, it’s a cypress leaf.”

“How do you know?” you asked looking down at the gold leaf in his hand.

“The cypress leaf is used as a symbol of Hades.” he said quietly and dropped his hand. ‘’Should we go?”

With your hand now wrapped tightly around the gold cypress leaf you sighed, “Yeah, I guess it’s time.”

The walk to the Judgement Pavilion was the shortest one you’d had to take the entire trip and you were endlessly annoyed by that fact. There wasn’t even a valid excuse to hold Jiyong’s hand one more time. Internally you felt like being a whiny brat and stomping your foot with frustration at how this was all ending. Instead you just walked quietly, slightly behind him, with a miserable pout on your lips. Jiyong too upset on his own to even notice how unhappy you were.

The pavilion itself was made of the same black onyx with gold marbling as the walls of Erebos. It was large to say the very least. You’d have probably described it as massive. At the front there were easily two hundred steps that led up to the platform where the building sat. A dozen columns lined the entrance, though the entrance itself was too high up for you to see. There were people all over the stairs and near the entrance and suddenly you felt very nervous.

You didn’t have to worry long. As you stared up at the daunting staircase and the strangers that occupied it, Jiyong grabbed your hanging hand in his and pulled you around to the side. There wasn’t anyone around, that you could tell anyway. And you were happy about not having to take the stairs it seemed. Mostly you were glad to have his long, warm fingers wrapped around yours one last time.

“What do we do if we get caught?” you asked quietly.

“We won’t, no one ever comes this way.” he said confidently as he found the opening he was looking for.

For a while it was too dark for you to see anything, but it didn’t worry you. You trusted Jiyong and as long as you had his hand you’d keep walking into the dark with just the sound of your clicking heels surrounding you. Then a bright light finally started to grow in front of you. It turned out it was coming from an open doorway. Through the door there was another hallway, this one lined with lit sconces. You followed Jiyong down that hallway as well which just led to another hallway and another until you were dizzy and had zero sense of direction.

“Where are we going?” You whispered finally.

“Almost there.” he said quietly, and squeezed your hand.

He took you down two more hallways, all of them having looked exactly the same. If anything were to happen and you had to escape without him you knew you’d have no chance. However you’d been worried very little by the idea of not having Jiyong by your side.

Then he stopped you in front of yet another turn down another hallway. Only this hallway was much darker. It was long and the only light was down at the very end. A single sconce beside a silver door. With a sigh he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, he gave your fingers one last gentle squeeze and let it fall to your side. With a frown you looked down at your empty hand and then back up at Jiyong.

“You’ll find Jiho through that door.” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down the hall.

“Wait,” you shook your head, “You’re not coming with me?”

“No, I can’t.” he frowned back at you, “I told you, I’ve got some business to take care of.”

“Oh, right.” you were trembling and he wanted to hold you but he held himself back.

“I promise you’ll be safe from here on out. There’s no need to be scared. You don’t need me anymore.” he said with a small smile.

He was wrong and you thought you should tell him so. You were always going to need him. You looked down the hallway at the door and then back to Jiyong before taking a deep breath.

“I’ll see you later?” you said with uncertainty.

You’d assumed this whole time that the two of you would just meet up back home at the bakery some afternoon and you’d get him his big mug of espresso shots like normal and everything would go back to how it was. Standing here now you felt unsure that was actually the case. Would you ever actually see him again?

“Or I guess, if I don’t… thank you. You know for bringing me here. For everything really, you’ve done so much.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” he said quietly, and then, “I um, I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded and then looked down again at the long dark walk ahead of you, “I guess I should go. You’re sure you can’t just come with and hold my hand the rest of the way? Maybe just be my designated hand holder for the rest of my life.”

He laughed, if only you realized how badly he wanted to be just that. “Unfortunately, I can’t, but you’ll be fine. I promise.”

A deep sigh escaped you, you were running out of things to say to prolong this moment. Already uncomfortable at just the idea of not having him by your side anymore. The longer you looked at him the more tears built at the backs of your eyes and you knew soon you’d just be staring at him crying, again, and you felt you should spare him that. He already had too many memories of you breaking down. You thought maybe you could leave him with one where you weren’t.

“Do I look pretty?” you asked.

Lifting his hand he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and he smiled, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

“Okay. I’m going.” you said as enthusiastically as you could muster and turned on your heel. You’d only gotten a few feet before muttering under your breath, “Just ask me to stay with you.”

Jiyong stood there watching you move further and further away, his heart ached. A voice at the back of his mind was screaming furiously. Tell her! Tell her everything! And he called out your name.

You swiped a stray tear from your cheek before you turned to look at him expectantly. The two of you stared at one another and he found himself once more unable to get out the words he needed to say.

“Good luck.” he said instead.

You shot him a weak smile and turned back down the hall. With every step you felt more alone, until you were standing just in front of the silver door. One hand on the doorknob you turned around once more but Jiyong was long gone, and you knew he would be. Another deep sigh escaped your lips and you pushed the door open.

The room you found yourself walking into was huge. It looked even larger with just the single bench that was sitting dead center. The floors were a blinding white marble, the walls a pitch black, and the ceiling was arched high and a brilliant gold, emitting a glow like the sun down onto the room.

Jiho was sitting on the bench. He hadn’t noticed you there yet. His leg was bouncing anxiously, thumb tucked between his lips as he chewed at the nail. You watched him quietly as you processed the sinking feeling in your stomach.

It felt like wanting to turn around and run away. It felt like disappointment. It felt like the guilt of not being as happy or as excited as you’d expected to be, as you thought you should be, to see him.

“Hey.” you managed a single word. You’d been quiet but your voice still echoed through the empty hall like you’d shouted.

Jiho looked up at you, an instant brightness illuminating his face. He smiled so brightly at you, so happily, it only made you feel that much worse.

“Oh my god, you came!” He stood up from the bench and quickly made his way to you. Once his arms were around you he leaned in for a kiss. You tried to kiss him back but something inside of you felt off. “I knew you would! I missed you so much, bug.”

Face scrunched at the pet name he’d chosen for you, you pulled away processing the moment, “Wait, you were expecting me?”

“Of course. Didn’t he explain it to you?”

“Who?” You asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Hades. Didn’t he come for you?”

“No...I came here on my own. Well, with a friend. What’s going on?” You asked utterly confused.

Jiho sighed, he wasn’t really prepared to explain why he’d wanted you there. He thought Hades would have told you, that he wouldn’t actually have to explain it to you himself. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “On top of coming to the underworld to find you and get you out of here?”

“Well, you can actually, that’s the favor I was going to ask you for. You can get me out of here.” He said enthusiastically.

“What is it?” You asked, “Obviously let’s do it, that’s why I came.”

He bit his lip nervously and asked, “Anything?”

“Of course, you know I would. I love you.”

“I knew you were the one.” He whispered, grabbing your face and planting a kiss on your lips.

You pulled away uncomfortably but Jiho didn’t notice. “What do we do? Do you already know?”

“Yeah,” he patted your hair down and gulped lightly, “You just have to exchange your soul for mine.”

All you managed to do was blink up at him. “What does that mean?”

“We meet with Hades and you offer your soul in place of mine.”

“Then what?” You asked, “I just go back without a soul? How does that work?”

“No...not quite.” He was more cautious with his words now, “You would stay here in my place. I would go back alone.”

“So I die.”

He nodded, “I guess.”

“Everyone already thinks your dead.” You said quietly, looking down at your feet. “This is really what you want? Not to sound vain but I came all this way for you, and you’d ...be just fine living without me?”

“No, bug,” he cooed pulling you closer, “of course I wouldn’t be fine. But...you know how close I was to a breakthrough with my art. And we both know how unhappy you are with how things are in your life just in general, you know. I mean, how long were you really going to last without me?”

Your heart crushed in your chest. As you blinked you felt tears slip over your cheeks and quickly swiped at them. “Oh, yeah, of course. You’re totally right. No ...it makes so much sense. I would have just wasted what time I had left anyway. We should do this.”

“I love you, bug.” he smiled, and gave you another kiss. “This really means so much to me.”

“I,” you hesitated, “love you too.”

He reached his hand up and cupped your face before leaning in to kiss you again. He pulled your lip between his and it was like you couldn’t feel anything. It was as if your soul already left your body and you were just kind of stuck in this experience. When his tongue slipped passed your teeth your eyes squeezed shut in a cringe. He groaned against your lips and with the hand that was at your hip he pulled you closer.

You lifted your hands to his chest, you wanted to push him away but felt it seemed almost unfair of you. He was your boyfriend after all, you should have wanted it just as much. All the gods in every religion would have known by now how much you’d been lusting over Jiyong, but this man you were supposed to actually love want to be with was making your stomach churn.

“You’re so beautiful.” he muttered against your skin as his lips dragged down your face to your throat. His hands dropped to your ass and he tugged the fabric of the dress up until it was scrunched in his fists.

Don’t give up your soul for him. You could hear Jiyong’s voice from your dream in your head. It echoed through your body like it had when he was bringing you back from the nightmare you’d had that you’d lost him.

“Stop.” you whispered weakly as his fingers dug into your skin. He didn’t stop he kept going, he let out a moan against your neck. His hips pressed into yours and you could feel him getting hard against you. Dropping your hands to his wrists you pushed him off of you, “I said stop, Jiho.”

He stepped back and looked at you. His face read hurt but mostly anger. “Seriously, y/n? It’s been like a month.”

“I’m just not comfortable doing that here.” you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively.

Jiho’s nose flared as he inhaled. “You were fucking someone. Weren’t you? After I died. Who? That guy? The one from work?”

You sighed, already exhausted. Maybe it would just be better to be dead at this point. Maybe you could talk Hades into letting you go to Asphodel. That could make this worth it. “You really want to do this here, Jiho? You really want a fight right now, after what you’ve asked me to do for you?”

His face softened immediately and he backtracked, “I’m sorry, bug. It’s just been hard without you and I get so insecure. I love you. You know?”

I love you. Lie. I love you. Lie. I love you. Lie.

“Mmhmm.” you nodded, “I know.”

A door opened at the opposite side of the room than you’d come in at. A man stepped through, he looked at you and his eyes raised as if in surprise and then he looked over at Jiho, “This is her?”

“Yeah, this is y/n.” Jiho smiled over his shoulder at you and held his hand out for you to take. Keeping one arm wrapped around yourself you allowed him to take the other hand. You didn’t smile at either of them.

“Damn, that’s a real shame.” the man said quietly, but it still echoed through the room, “Anyway, Hades is ready for you now. There are a couple ahead of you because of the backlog so just wait in line. You know the deal.”

Jiho thanked the man and guided you through the door. You weren’t entirely surprised to find yourself in another long hallway that turned into different hallways. This time there were the added stairs. Just a handful from one hallway, leading to the next. Down the final hallway you were stopped by the waiting line. The man from the room had been a little misleading when he said there were only a couple people waiting. Maybe if he meant a couple dozen or even a couple hundred from what you could see. You couldn’t even see where the line lead to from the hallway you were in.

Looking over at you Jiho smiled, “It’s not that bad. The last time I waited the line went back like three hallways.”

“Mmhmm” you hummed quietly.

“You do look really beautiful, bug.” he said and leaned forward pressing a kiss against your forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.” you said. And that was true. You’d had a really great time with Jiyong and you were glad you had that memory. And you were glad to know the truth now, as much as it might hurt. It was better, you thought, to die with the truth than to live with a lie. So it wasn’t a lie, you were glad you’d come.

The wait in the hallway was miserable and it felt like it took ages. Longer than any line at an amusement park. Longer than any line at the grocery store around the holidays. There was nothing to look at and no one to talk to. You didn’t want to talk to the creepy guy standing in front of you, and you didn’t want to talk to any of the people that ended up behind you. You definitely weren’t in the mood to talk to Jiho.

You knew exactly who you wished you could talk to. You knew you could tell him everything that had happened in the last half hour of your life, and he’d reply with something snarky. Something harsh and true, but something that made you laugh regardless. You missed him so much already it made your stomach hurt. You realized you didn’t even say a proper goodbye. He’d sounded so convinced when he said he’d see you soon that you just believed him and now you’d never get to say the things you’d wished you had. You wondered what the chances were that Jiho would be willing to take a letter to Jiyong for you. Then you snickered to yourself at the thought alone.

Once you were through the archway and into the main room the wait was much more interesting, and way more tolerable. You were absolutely mesmerized by it. The ceilings were impossibly high, higher than you’d ever have expected from the view you’d gotten outside. The peaked arches and ribbed vaultings were perfectly crafted. Beautiful, powerful white columns lined the room. The walls were dark, maybe black, but every once in awhile there was a reflection of light and you just knew there were probably some gorgeous details you were missing out on being stuck in this line instead of wandering. Every couple of yards on either side there was a new stained glass window for you to admire. All the ones you’d seen were of battles. Clearly they were of gods wars but you weren’t so caught up on your mythology that you could name them all.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t see much ahead of you with the line of people in the way. There was a stunning rose window against the back wall that reminded you of ones you’d seen pictures of. Ones from cathedrals you’d never get to visit now, not that you’d had plans to anyway. You could, however, see the top of an unnecessarily tall throne. It was black onyx too, and gaudy with its exaggerated peaked crest. You knew it had to have been where Hades was. You knew he was in this room somewhere, so it would make sense for him to sit on the most annoying piece of furniture you’d ever seen.

“Overcompensate much?” you muttered under your breath with hint of bitterness.

Hades with his big beautiful mansion and his big beautiful gardens and his big beautiful dog. The whole trip you’d thought maybe you’d like him but with every step forward you started to really loathe him. How could anyone good agree to let something like this happen?

“What was that?” Jiho asked turning to you.

“Nothing. Just… the throne. It’s so massive.”

“Looks stupid from here, I know. Once you’re up there, it's kind of terrifying, serves its purpose for sure.” he said with a low voice, “You think the chair is big wait until you see the guy sitting in it.”

“Who? Hades?” you asked, “Is he big? Like a giant big?”

Jiho shook his head, “No, physically he’s like...well average really. Kind of small now that I’m thinking about it. It’s his energy, makes him seem forty feet tall. They really don’t fuck with him here.”

Suddenly you felt nervous. You weren’t sure why you hadn't thought about it before, not even once. You were about to be standing in front of an actual god. You were going to just offer up your soul to a deity. No big fucking deal. You clutched the cypress leaf pendant in your fist nervously as the line pushed forward.

The stained glass windows had proved to be a good distraction from your inevitable emotional and mental breakdown. They had turned from battles to the gods and goddesses themselves. It was actually kind of fun to try and decipher which one was which. When your eyes landed on the stained glass window of Hades you stared for a long while taking in the image. The storm in your stomach calmed. The image was one that was not totally unfamiliar to you. In fact it was one you’d learned well, especially over the last several days.

A beautiful piece of art, absolutely, but the image wasn’t entirely correct you’d thought. The stained glass missed the sharp angles of his face and how plush his lips could get, especially when he was pouting. The flame that flickered in his eyes, that never seemed to die out and that was constantly starting fires throughout your body, that was missing too. However, the dramatically peaked eyebrow, and air of superiority...the artist had gotten perfectly.

“Jiho…” you said quietly, still not turning from the art. You wondered if you could be mistaken, though it seemed very unlikely. He looked down at you with a small smile and squeezed your hand, “You said you’ve seen him right?”

“Who? Hades?” he asked and you nodded, “yeah, I’ve seen him.”

You gestured to the stained glass, “Is that him?”

“More or less.” Jiho shrugged, “Hair’s shorter now.”

With one more look back at the window you turned your face up towards the high ceiling in disbelief. A laugh tickled the back of your throat, though this didn’t seem like an appropriate situation for laughing. A voice in the back of your mind asked you if you were truly surprised. Maybe he had never actually said the words to you, but there were a lot of clues you should have picked up along the way. You realized that now, looking back at it all.

“You okay?”

You looked over at Jiho and gave something of a smile, “Yeah, I’m... wonderful.”

“We’re next.” he said and squeezed your hand.

“Next!” Phobos called out, and the two of you stepped forward.

Sure enough, as you stepped forward and the last soul was dragged out of your line of vision, there he was. Jiyong. Your Jiyong, sitting atop his massive throne, in his fancy suit with one leg crossed over the other as he drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. You’d seen him so many different ways in all sorts of situations but this was new. It felt like power radiated off of him. His face was expressionless and unbiased as he looked over you. He was pouting again, a mixture of unhappy and maybe angry though you couldn’t imagine that he was angry with you.

You tried so very hard to remain serious, as it was genuinely a serious situation. The problem was as he sat there menacingly and all powerful, staring down at you and Jiho with all the judgement in the world...all you could think about was how sexy he looked. It was so ridiculous. You were about to give up your soul. You were minutes from dead and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss this guy that you were starting to wonder if you ever even knew in the first place.

“Oh my god.” you muttered, embarrassed by your own immature thoughts. Then as it clicked in your head you shook your head incredulously, “My god...no wonder.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead and did everything in your power to hold it together. Oh my god. You thought it again to yourself and with much amusement remembered thinking he’d had a god complex. Losing any self control you’d had left you let out a snort of laughter. You quickly threw your hands over your mouth to hide your obvious giggles.

“Y/n.” Jiho hissed at your side, “What the fuck, bug? Get it together.”

Shaking your head you let the thoughts drop from your head and put on your most serious face, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it’s not funny.”

Looking back up at Jiyong, Hades, his mouth remained unmoved but you could see the laughter in his eyes as he looked down at you. You chewed on your lip to keep from laughing again.

“Name!” Phobos called out.

“Woo Jiho and Y/n.” Jiho said and looked over at you, almost annoyed, before looking up at Hades.

“So,” Hades voice came out strong, even more powerful than the energy he’d given off just by sitting there.

You couldn’t even look at him the way you wanted him now. You were honestly a little surprised, never having realized you had an apparent power kink. Or maybe it was just a Jiyong kink. Your cheeks burned.

He continued “Woo Jiho, this is the soul you are offering me in place of your own for all of eternity?”

Jiho nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Still unable to look directly at him you missed the way the laughter had left his eyes, the way his glare bore down into Jiho with unspeakable rage, “And you’ve explained to her the conditions of the exchange you have propositioned me with as was requested of you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hades took a deep breath and asked, “And she agreed?”

“Yes. Yes, sir, she agreed.” Jiho nodded enthusiastically.

“Y/n…” he said quietly, calmly, gentle. You shook your head slightly unable to move your eyes up but now it was because you felt guilty and ashamed. “Look at me.”

You scratched the back of your head nervously and then with a heavy sigh you finally looked up and met his eyes. He looked sad in a way that you’d never seen him before and you hated it immediately. You’d never wanted anything more than to never see that sadness on his face ever again.

“What he’s said...is it true?”

You knew he was only asking you now. It wasn’t like when he spoke to Jiho and it was as if he was announcing every word to everyone in the room. This was intimate. This was just the two of you. You nodded.

“He advised you that as per the conditions of the proposed bargain you would be exchanging your soul in place of his. That he would go on to live and you…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, “would not any longer...do that.”

You nodded and he looked more pained than ever. He rested his elbow on the arm of the throne and roughly rubbed his face and massaged his temple.

Dropping his hand he sighed and asked, “And you agreed to those conditions?”

You nodded again. Technically yes, you had agreed to Jiho in that room under the pavilion that you were going to exchange your soul. You wished you could have a minute with Jiyong...Hades to explain. He leaned forward, he looked absolutely panicked. Taking another deep breath he looked at you, really looked at you.

And as if he was begging you outloud in front of everyone you could hear his voice echo through you once more, Don’t give up your soul for him!

You wondered genuinely if it wasn’t too late.

As if knowing your thought Hades said very pointedly, “You must say it out loud. You have to say to me that you offer your soul in place of his. Otherwise it’s not a valid exchange.”

It felt like minutes passed of complete silence, everyone in the room was looking at you. Hades, Jiho, other souls awaiting judgement. Every single face was turned towards yours waiting to hear you say the words.

“Come on.” Jiho looked down at you and whispered, “You promised me. You said you would do this for me. Just say it. Tell him you agree.”

“Jiho...are you…” you looked up at him slowly, “fucking serious?”

“What?”

“You were really going to let me give up my entire life for you! You were seriously okay with that.” You turned to look at Hades, “Did you see that? He was really going to let me do it!”

Hades was too busy dragging his palms down his face dramatically from the complete agony of the anticipation to even respond.

“You always said you would do anything for me.” Jiho said still confused by whatever was happening before him.

“My LIFE, Jiho.” You said exasperated. “You fucking asshole. I can’t...I can’t even be near you. I feel like I’m choking.”

You searched the room, anxiety washing over you as the reality of it all started to hit. You were standing in the underworld. You had spent days wandering around the underworld with Hades himself. You’d been having sex dreams about Hades. You wanted to fuck the god underworld. It was incredibly likely that you were...in love with him. Your dead boyfriend made a deal with Hades to swap his souls for yours. You were in love with a god and you were almost half sure he was in love with you too.

Your head started to spin, it was making your stomach ache, and you desperately needed air. Pretending this was just a Hades themed amusement park was no longer working for you. And everything was processing incredibly fast. You could not find a door or a window in this room to save your life. Your sight began to blur, you couldn’t even see where you’d come in from.

“Y/n…” Hades voice had become concerned as he watched you clearly spiraling. You blinked unable to focus on him, but you knew he was close because of his voice. Reaching out you could feel the fabric of his shirt brush your fingertips and you clutched onto him.

“I need out. Get me out of this room. Where is the door? Why aren’t there any doors?” You asked in a panic. “Jiyong please, I just need...I can’t breathe.”

“There.” He said calmly. You wiped at your eyes and squinted, seeing a sliver of light as a door opened not far from you. Dropping your hand you sprinted towards it and out into the light.

You were on a balcony that looked out over the underworld, a thought you tried to ignore as you tried to catch your breath. Grabbing onto the railing you took several long, deep breaths. You tried to remember the tricks you’d learned to control your anxiety. The things you’d learned to used before Jiyong.

Touch, you could feel the smooth balcony beneath your hand, you were grounded. Sight, you could see in the distance the peak of the towers of Elysium. Sound, you could hear the sound of people chatting, and looked over the balcony to see a group of people passing by. They must have been gods, you’d thought, because you were sure that one of them had been Pothos.

After that you felt much better and stood normally, looking out at everything spread before you. You could see the Towers of Elysium, and the mountain ridges that held the entrance to Tartarus. The sun was setting on all of it, a glorious rainbow of colors painted across the sky. It was beautiful here, in every sense of the word.

A cleared throat caught your attention and you turned around. Hades was standing several feet away with his hands in his pockets. He looked embarrassed or ashamed but you weren’t sure why he would be either.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Sorry I freaked out. Sorry I’m always freaking out on you.” You gave a small laugh, you should be the one who was embarrassed.

“Was it me? Did I-“ he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to ask you. Did he freak you out? Had he scared you? Was all of this too much and you wanted to leave here and him as soon as you could?

“No, it wasn’t you” you answered, “I...I don’t think I’ve been processing everything and it all kind of hit me at once.”

“You’d been taking all of it very much in stride. I should have been more worried. I’m sorry.” He stepped towards you but didn’t want to be too overwhelming so he stepped back.

“Can we stop saying we’re sorry? Neither of us has done anything wrong.” You sighed.

“You’re not mad at me then?”

You shook your head no, you hadn’t even thought to be mad at him honestly. He didn’t say anything after that, he only stood there watching you. Waiting to see what you wanted, waiting to see what you would say. You leaned back against the banister and took him in, took Hades in. It was hard to see him as anyone other than your Jiyong. Arrogant and honest. Gentle and caring. He didn’t look as old as you suspected he was. He didn’t look scary or mean or threatening in anyway. It made you feel crazy but you still wanted to kiss him.

“So,” You started slowly, “Hades, huh?”

He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” you asked.

“Would you have believed me?”

You grinned, “That’s fair.”

“I, um, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” he said taking a deep breath and pulling his hands from his pockets.

“What better time than now?” You smiled encouragingly. It was kind of precious the difference between him standing in front of you and him sitting in his throne room. Like he was two entirely different people.

“I’m...in love with you.” He looked up at you with big doe eyes, and a trembling lip.

“That’s not a question.” You smirked.

He let out a small laugh, gratefully for your sense of humor. “I want you to stay here with me, but I understand if you don’t want to. If you’re not interested at all. I don’t want it to be like the last time I wanted someone to love me. I won’t make you stay.”

“Still not a question.”

He sighed deeply, and smiled, “Please. Help a god out?”

Leaning back again you looked him over with a smile thinking about how you wanted to respond. It wasn’t often in your relationship with him that you held much power, and you assumed if you stayed here you wouldn’t get it again any time soon.“Your ex wife is Persephone.”

“Yes.”

“If she’s not stuck down here anymore then why are there still four seasons?” You asked. You bit your lip to keep from laughing, you could see him squirm as you got further and further from where he wanted the conversation to be.

“I don’t know.” He said frustrated, “People really like Halloween. Why take that away from them?”

“Would you not stand so far away? It makes me feel like your going to blast me off this balcony with magic hands or something.”

“I don’t have magic hands.” He said finally coming towards you.

“That’s a shame.” You laughed. “I had a dream that you did.”

He looked up in surprise, and realized you were joking. “Would you please… I asked you something very important. And really very serious.”

“You didn’t actually ask me anything.” You corrected.

“Will you stay here with me?” he finally asked, exasperated, “Could you love me? Do you want me?”

“Would you let me leave? To think about it. Would you let me leave and if I decide I want to come back and stay with you, I could just summon you or whatever? And if not then you leave me alone?”

Hades looked genuinely devastated which made you feel a little bad for even asking. He’d been nervous but he hadn’t truly believed there was a chance that you didn’t feel the same for him as he felt for you. Suddenly it felt as if he’d completely misinterpreted every moment up to now.

“Oh, um, yes. Yes, of course you can go.”

The smallest smile tugged at your mouth, “You’d really let me go?”

“You’re not a captive here. I don’t want this to be a prison. I want this to be your home.”

More than anything you wanted to kiss him then. To tell him you’d stay an eternity if that’s what he wanted but you kept your composure. “So, if say I wanted to stay with you but all the time became too much and I needed space away from you, away from here...you’d let me, I don’t know, leave for a while and comeback?”

He sighed, “Of course but…”

“Yes?”

His eyebrows gathered in thought for what, you thought, was far too long before his eyes lit up in realization and he groaned, “You’re fucking with me.”

“I am totally still fucking with you.” you laughed.

“Why are you doing this?” he pouted.

“I don’t know let’s see, you lied to me about who you were for months. Not even just that but you kept from me that you were a god. No...that’s not even accurate, you aren’t just some nobody god. You’re Hades. An Olympian and King of the Underworld.”

“You said you weren’t mad about that.” he mumbled, diggin his hands in his pockets as he stared down at your feet.

“Okay, fine. Take away that and you also kept from me that my dead boyfriend wanted my soul. That he’d cheated on me, lied to me, and in general just been a real piece of shit. You knew that about him since the first day you met me and never said a single word.” he was nodding silently in agreement, knowing you were right. “And your worst crime against me? The most unforgivable thing you’ve done this entire time? ...You still haven’t kissed me yet.”

He looked up at you for a long silent moment as he realized that you were still messing with him. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t blink, you weren’t sure if he was even breathing. All you could see was the way his eyes transitioned from a confused, almost pitiful gaze, to something more pointed. His eyes looked wild, they looked hungry and the blood that flowed through you was vibrating in anticipation.

Taking the few steps that closed the gap between the two of you he raised his hand to the back of your neck, just one, and pulled your lips to his in a heavy clash. It could have just been in your mind, but you’d have sworn the impact made a sound like a thunder clap that cracked across the entire underworld. Your knees gave like jelly, but he’d had his other arm around your waist before you even realized. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he held you close.

It was exactly as you expected it might be. The way it had been in the dream. It was how you’d dreamt a kiss would be when you were a child. The way they portrayed them in foreign films and on the covers of romance novels.Time stopped around the two of you and a feeling of weightlessness washed over you. There was you and there was Jiyong...Hades, whoever. And you expected that if you had a want to open your eyes you’d see nothing else but stars, fireflies, fireworks, or something just as beautifully cliche exploding around you.

His hand slide around to cup your face and you allowed yourself to really sink into him, the way you’d wanted to for days, weeks, months now. You thought to yourself, in that moment, that you finally knew what it meant for something to feel like home. It was so warm in his embrace, it was so comfortable, and made you feel safer than you ever had in your life. You weren’t sure how long it lasted, you truly didn’t care. He could have held you there in his arms, on that terrace, overlooking the underworld until your soul left your body for judgement.

“Do you want to stay here with me,” he asked again, his lips brushing yours, “or do you want to go home?”

With one of your hands pressed against his chest you smiled, “Ji-Hades, I am home.”

He leaned back and searched your face, “Don’t fuck with me. I really can’t take any more right now. I have to know.”

“I am being very serious.” you grinned, “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt like home to me.”

Leaning forward he kissed your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” you leaned forward and gave him another kiss before a sudden realization hit and you pulled back with a frown, “but…”

“No.” he shook his head, “no but.”

“But.” you reached up and held his face while you continued, “Won’t you be so sad when you have to watch me get all old and die?”

“Oh...Oh!” he brightened significantly, “I, uh, actually there’s something I would like to show you.”

“Oh really?” you asked suggestively.

He tsk’d you and rolled his eyes, “Not that. Well…yes that, later. I was talking about something else, but that will have to wait too. Right now we should really go back in and take care of your boyfriend.”

“Ex...boyfriend.” you clarified.

“That’s right. What would you like to do with your ex boyfriend.” He grinned, “You have a new boyfriend now.”

My boyfriend, Hades. The thought made you laugh, it sounded insane. You lifted your mouth to his for another kiss. One of his hands was curved around your hip, his fingers pressed into you as you tugged on his lip with your teeth. Jiho was honestly the very last thing you wanted to think about in this moment. Hades was very persistent though and pulled away, giving you a look.

“Are you always so professional?” you asked sneaking a quick peck.

He said nothing in response, only raising his eyebrow at you, though he did grin.

“Okay, fine.” You said with a sigh and rolled your head back before looking back at him. “Can we feed him to Cerberus?”

“Of course, darling.” He leaned forward and kissed your shoulder.

You made a face at the pet name, “Darling?”

“No? Not darling. My love? My queen? I’ll call you anything you want.” you blushed as he whispered sweet names along your neck leaving kisses all the way to your ear. Then with a low voice he whispered, “Baby.”

You inhaled sharply, your face flushing crimson. “Well you can call me just about anything if you’re going to say it all erotic like that.”

With a smile he kissed your cheek, “So Cerberus. Getting off easy if you ask me.”

“I didn’t say I was done.” You responded as he slipped his fingers between yours and began walking back towards the door. “It should be done slowly. Tiny pieces, and he has to watch.”

Hades shivered beside you, “You’re terrifying.”

“Is that okay?” you asked.

He leaned over and kissed your cheek once more. “It’s perfect, you’re perfect. Perhaps you should tell him. Get used to handing out judgements. I’ll need your help if you stay.”

“Do I get a hideously gaudy throne too?” you asked with a smirk, and he glared over at you, “We can put it next to yours. Close enough that I can make you hold my hand whenever I want.”

His glare turned to a grin and he nodded, “Anything for you.”

“Wait.” You said suddenly as you stood in front of the door. He turned and you threw your arms around him, pulling him in for one more good kiss. Stepping back again you straightened his tie and fixed his out of place hair. “Okay.”

He walked you into the quiet hall. If you thought everyone was looking at you earlier it was nothing like how it felt now. It seemed as if even more people had come into the room than were there before. All wanting to get a look. Hades squeezed your fingers and led you up the steps to the platform the throne sat on.

He lowered himself into the seat and you perched yourself on the arm of the throne. His arm slipped around your hip, his hand resting gently on your upper thigh. You thought it made sense how powerful he’d seemed before. It was impossible to sit up here and not feel invincible.

You turned to him and whispered, “Really though, can my throne be as big as this one?”

He chuckled lightly, “Bigger, if you want.”

Doling out your first judgement was easy. You’d thought for a minute it would be harder, feel worse. However when Jiho cried out to you as he was dragged away, begging, pleading and apologizing the whole way, you felt less than sympathetic. The things he’d done, the lies he’d told, scrolling through your mind and you felt nothing. You’d looked down at Hades, and he looked up at you in complete adoration.

“We should have crowns.” you grinned, “Can we get matching crowns?”

“Would you like a crown, my love?” he asked, eyes dancing as they watched you. Your heart skipped a beat and he smiled at the way you’d become flustered.

You shrugged, “Couples crowns would be cute. Don’t you think?”

“It sounds perfect.”

Dragging your teeth over your lip as you looked down at him you released it with a pop, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He nodded, “You should do that.”

You stood up from the arm of the chair, and moved so that you were in front of him. He gulped as you tugged the skirt of your dress up slightly before placing a knee on each side of his lap. You straddled him, not unlike you had in your first dream. His eyes closed as your hands moved up his chest, over his neck and into his hair. Leaning in you pressed your lips to his. Sucking his lip between yours, opening your mouth for him. His hands clutched your thighs and you moaned into his mouth.

As your lips left a trail to his ear, he squirmed beneath you and you whispered next to his ear, “I love you.”

He groaned loudly in response, his whole body shuddered in pleasure. He lifted his heavy eyelids to see the entire throne room either gawking at the two of you or purposefully staring anywhere else.

“Go. Away.” he called over your shoulder as you sucked on the skin of his throat. His voice boomed throughout the entire hall. He shivered again as he felt your hands between the two of you, gently tugging his shirt from his pants. You’d completely forgotten anyone else was in the room at this point, all you knew was you wanted him.

Deimos cleared his throat, “Sir, the souls…”

“Or don’t. I don’t care. I really couldn’t care any less what you do.” He looked down to where you’d tugged his shirt and jacket from his shoulders and were leaving pink splotches all over his bare skin. He ran his hand against the side of your face and whispered, “my insatiable queen.”

Phobos and Deimos began clearing out the hoard of waiting souls and everyone else who’d gathered in the hall.

“Oh, quit your bitching.” Phobos called out to the groan of souls, “Most of you are going to Tartus anyway. Enjoy one last night in holding before you’re tortured for eternity.”

Once the room was finally cleared he very reluctantly and very gently pushed you back so you were sitting on his lap. He cupped your cheek in his palm and brushed your swollen lips with his thumb.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you. I didn’t even realize I’d been waiting.” As he spoke you realized you’d never seen him look so impossibly vulnerable before. “I never knew it was supposed to feel like this.”

“That what was supposed to feel like this?”

“Love.” he whispered. “Is this even real? I’m so afraid of it being just another dream. It feels too amazing, too good to be true.”

You reached down slowly and without him realizing you pinched the soft skin of his hip until he jumped beneath you with an ow.

You laughed at the betrayed look on his face. “Not a dream this time. And it really is as good as it feels.”

“You’re sure this is what you want? An eternity with me? You won’t regret your decision later on and then leave me all alone?”

“Hades…” his face softened further at the sound of his name on your lips. “I swear. I promise. I vow. There is absolutely nothing more I want than to…waste away completely with you forever.”

“And ever?” He smiled.

“And ever. And ever. And ever. And ever…” you said planting a kiss on his smiling, rounded cheeks with each promise of eternity.

A kiss for every lifetime you planned to spend with him. He was a blushing mess, putty in your hands, but you didn’t stop because you meant it and you’d keep going until he made you stop. You hoped he never would.

“And ever. And ever. And ever. And ever…”

#g dragon scenario #Kwon Jiyong scenario #Big Bang scenario #Kpop scenario #Everlong #literally already cried about this being over #thank you everyone!#I hope you love it!!

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larryfanficwriter98 · 3 years

Text

Chapter Five

Fake It Until You Make It Real

Friday night by seven o'clock found Louis being served a plate of steak, baked shell mac and cheese, honey buttered rolls, and a small side salad as he graded his papers.

"Thank you." Louis said looking up at Harry briefly as he sat to his left, "I could have helped you know."

"The only thing you need to do is one never do work at my dining table again and two eat." Harry said glaring at him playfully, "I have an office y'know, I have a spare office even if you wanted that for yourself. My dining table is not your desk."

"You're the one that demanded to keep conversation going about wedding flowers while I had to grade. I was moving to the coffee table. But I promise I won't turn your dining table into my desk."

"Good. Now eat." Louis rolled his eyes but set his red pen down and moved the graded stuff into his bag and the unmarked stuff to the living room coffee table for now. Returning to his seat he grabbed his fork and dug into his side salad first wanting to taste the homemade dressing Harry made.

"My mom is going to love you and demand to know how you made me eat a salad." Louis grumbled as he shoved another forkful into his mouth glaring at Harry.

"I'll be sure to give her my recipe." Harry said, "I use to cook with my mom almost every night, so I learned a thing or two."

"Now I feel like I shouldn't even try to cook your dinner. I'll disappoint you."

"Never. I just got into cooking because I have an empty house all the time. You have Freddie who gets hungry in five minutes and expects food in ten. You're not obligated to try and impress me with your cooking. If it's edible I'm happy. Doesn't even have to be warm. I'll eat cold food if I'm hungry enough. Hannah actually left out frozen pizzas or canned soup for me all the time. Most of the time the pizza was thawed by the time I got home and so it wasn't good to cook and the soup I would just open and eat without heating it."

"She didn't make you dinner?"

"Nope."

"Well, I guess I don't have to best her at being the better housewife." Harry choked on his beer and laughed as he wiped his mouth off.

"If there was a competition, I promise you, you have already won it. Anyway, speaking of your soon to be married title I picked up our engagement rings. Yes, I got us matching ones so the nurses can stop trying to persuade me into being straight. I’ve been telling them I’ve had a boyfriend for months and I think they don’t believe me.”

“Should I come by to your work to give you lunch one day? Be extra flirty?”

“Would you?” Louis laughed looking down at his plate, “I’m serious over here.”

“Sure, I’ll come over in my tightest pair of pants and your sweater I have at my house.”

“I have the perfect pullover hold on.” Louis opened his mouth to tell Harry to sit down but Harry was already running up the stairs by the time the words registered in his brain. Harry came back down on a minute later with a white pullover and when he spread it out, he saw STYLES was written on the back with the letter ‘19’ on the front and back.

“The hospital has a football team to encourage exercise and outdoor play. I bloody suck at football, but as my boyfriend you support me anyway.”

“Fiancé and give it.”

“Soon to be fiancé.” Harry countered with a grin as he handed the pullover to Louis who laid it with his other stuff in the living room. “Just come in wearing that and they’ll…hopefully back off.”

“Oh, they’ll back off. I can be mean if I want to be.”

“You’re the best.”

*********

Saturday morning Harry was waking Louis up in the guest room with French Toast, bacon, and three poached eggs.

“Eat, get ready, we should leave in two hours.”

“Go away.” Louis groaned, “Why did I agree to do this today?”

“Because you and I both know it’ll be easier to do wedding things without Freddie there. As much as I adore him, it would be very boring. See you downstairs.” Louis glared at Harry’s retreating back then turned his attention to the plate of breakfast and decided getting up this early was an even trade for breakfast that looked that good. Louis ate his breakfast quickly then got dressed for a day outside in the late September weather. He took his plate downstairs and put it in the dishwasher and turned to Harry as he laid out on the couch, his phone in his hands.

“Are you taking a selfie?” Louis asked grinning when Harry stretched his neck to look at him with a beet red face.

“I’m snapchatting Maddie. Meanie.”

“Meanie?! Wow. I’m impressed. For a doctor you certainly have a way with words.” Harry grinned rolling his eyes before looking back at his phone, “You take selfies weird.”

“There is no wrong way to take a picture you child. Stop making fun of me.” Louis laughed and headed to him, hands on his hips as he stood where his head was resting on the arm of couch.

“Ready to go old man?” Harry laid his phone on his chest facing upwards and looked at him with a soft smile on his lips, “What?”

“I bet you looked cute pregnant.”

“Really? That’s what you are thinking about? Well for the record I most certainly did not look cute pregnant. My ex made sure to tell me that everyday too. He wouldn’t even give a hand if you know what I mean when my stomach was in the way.”

“You’re joking.” Louis shook his head, “What a douche. Why did you like him?”

“The sex was good. I was young and naïve. He gave great head all things considered.” Harry laughed, “What? It’s true. Why’d you stay with Hannah for so long?”

“It wasn’t the sex I can tell you that much. When we were about to break up, we found out she was pregnant, so we stayed together. We had been having a hard time in uni, so we were discussing breaking it off but then she told me she was late one night, and I got a pregnancy test for her and it was positive. Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time I had sex…god I’m lame.” Louis laughed as Harry swung his legs to the ground and pushed himself up, “Ready then?”

“Yeah, come on virgin Mary.”

“Not funny. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Point taken. Moving on.” Louis said grabbing Harry’s pullover he gave him yesterday and pulling it on as they left the house. Louis slid into the passenger seat of Harry’s Murano as Harry got into the driver’s seat. “Where are we headed first?”

“I figured we’d do what will take us the longest first which is our venue. They’re all south of us as well except one. Want to start with the furthest one out which is four hours out. Ready?”

“I’m taking a nap on the road.”

“Go ahead.”

As predicted the venue looking took all day, but it wasn’t taxing at all. Most of the venues they were able to walk around alone or with just one staff member. The colorful leaves on the trees, not yet having fallen down, made every location look breath taking and each venue had pictures of what it would look like in the winter. It was relaxing really, and since Harry had only written down the ones that had the 19th available, they didn’t have to worry about falling in love with a place only for it to not be free that date. Louis held Harry’s hand throughout the day watching as he charmed his way through staff members and watching as his eyes lit up when he saw the snowy landscapes. There had been one staff member that hadn’t taken his eyes off of Harry for more than a few seconds that Louis shut down with a raised brow that made Harry blush and grin widely trying to pretend he had no idea what just happened and why the staff member didn’t look at Harry any more than appropriate after that. When they got to the SUV Harry had pinch him and exclaimed, they could not pick that venue for fear of a staff member ruining their wedding because of Louis. Louis had laughed and continued to laugh as they drove to the other venue. By the time they got home the sun was set and they had grabbed takeout on the road then relaxed on the couch watching a movie as they talked about the venues and what they liked and didn’t like until they had narrowed it down to their top three.

You guys will be able to have a say in the venue! The reason it has taken so long is because as an American I have no idea about wedding venues in the UK. So I've been googling and I've only selected the ones that had Winter pictures so we all get an idea of what it looks like. In the comments go ahead and comment your favorite! It can be you only favorite or your top three! I do have three favorites that I am in love with writing a scene with. The Mills Wedding Venue didn't have many winter photos so I encourage everyone to google all the locations as well to get a good feel of them. I LOVE ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ONE SO THIS IS ALL UP TO YOU! I'll be counting Wattpad, Tumblr, and Archive's comments as they come until I am writing the chapter. If you need better pictures they will be on my tumblr page! LarryFanficWriter!

#larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry shippers #Larry Stylinson #larries #larry fake marraige au #fake marriage #nonfamous au #doctor harry styles #teacher louis

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omnomwithrob · 3 years

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Bringing the pain.

I hate when I get things out of order, but I have to catch you up on something I missed! Rob and I have developed a penchant for croissants, especially since becoming parents and some of our usual vices that help an occasion to feel special are largely off the table. So for Christmas 2019, I gifted Rob with a croissant-making class at our local Sur La Table.

When the date finally arrived for the class in mid-January 2020, I was a little nervous - I’d never done a cooking class like this before, and my curmudgeonly self wasn’t super stoked on having to team up with other people for the bakes. But I was also excited and ready to learn.

After being broken up into teams of four, we followed along with our instructor to make our puff pastry. This was another first for me, as I’ve always just bought my puff pastry from the store, and didn’t even know how it was made until I started watching the Great British Baking Show a few years ago. Something I noticed about the Sur La Table recipe was that it was yeasted, and I thought the rise from puff pastry came exclusively from butter? Did I make that up?

As much as I love baking, I hate getting my hands dirty - which means that making bread is a pain! (Get it? Pain? Wahh.) So one perk of this group format was that I could watch/delegate the messier tasks to others who didn’t mind so much!

First up were our savory pastries, which had a ham and cheese filling. They were the classic crescent shape, though I can’t say our team scored many points for consistency.

The instructor and her assistants then went around and gathered the finished trays and took care of the baking for us - here are ours!

We also made sweet pastries - pain au chocolate. The hardest part on both versions for me was rolling out the dough into a perfect rectangle - when I’m rolling dough at home, it’s usually for pie crust, biscuits, or cut-out cookies, which generally don’t require a perfect rectangle. We needed lots of help from our instructor to learn the right technique for rolling our springy dough into just the right shape so that we would get croissants that were relatively similar in size.

Once all of our pastries were out of the oven, we were welcomed to sample (and divvy up with our team to take home leftover). The yeast in the puff pastry yielded a heavier, more enriched-dough texture than I was expecting, so I still wonder if the yeast is actually commonly used in the light, fluffy croissants I’m used to scarfing down about town.

After saying goodbye to the Sur La Table on Michigan Avenue, Rob and I decided to have a similarly French and fancy lunch while we still had the babysitter. On our way, Rob captured this very January picture of me in front of Chicago’s lovely Newberry Library.

We had lunch at Cafe Margeaux in Gold Coast, which must be one of Chicago’s swankier neighborhoods. The restaurant is located inside the Waldorf Astoria, and we were surrounded by fancy ladies and bridal showers and at least one very busy rosé cart. Just call us Dottie and Todd.

In the spirit of our croissant-themed morning, Rob ordered a croissant that was topped with smoked salmon, spinach, poached eggs, and hollandaise - check, check, check, check, check. I had crepes that were served in the style of a croque madame. Hard not to love a French brunch!

Chicago Reader’s amusing review of Cafe Margeaux reads: “Celebrity chef Michael Mina's simulacrum of a jaunty French brasserie caters to the inmates of a Gold Coast luxury hotel.” That may be true, but I thought it was a fun way to lean into the French theme of one of the few no-baby dates that Rob and I have gone on since Rose was born. When COVID is over, I would highly recommend cooking classes like this as a way to get inventive with date night or to meet some new people...or to take home a bunch of croissants :)

Caroline

#Rob Bratney #food blog #Chicago #Illinois #Michigan Avenue #Sur La Table #Gold Coast #cooking class #croissant #croissant class #puff pastry #ham and cheese croissants #pain au chocolate

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the-coconut-asado · 4 years

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Our Golden Girl’s Kitchen

A couple of years back, my cousin Doro announced she was going to publish a book of our grandmother’s recipes. It set all the cousins off on an odyssey of frenzied WhatsApps swapping memories, and in my case a mad dash to storage to find yet another of mum’s old scrapbooks, stuffed with fragments of recipes typed up on that onion-skin paper of the Mad Men era.

Slowly but surely, recipes surfaced for Granny’s steak and kidney pudding (to this day, the name of our family WhatsApp group), tallarines (fettuccine by any other name) and more cakes and tarts than a whole series of Masterchef pressure tests.

But Doro’s job was made much easier by someone else who had kept Granny’s legacy alive all these years. The person who, while Granny was a distant memory for many of us, was the biggest influence on our lives. At the end of the book, Doro wrote a dedication to her: “ Auntie Joan, I remember you, sometime before Christmas, making us stir the plum pudding and saying “don’t forget to make a wish!”; the chicken pie or Irish stew with dumplings you prepared when I used to come for lunch after university classes; the plum ice cream you always had in your “ancient” fridge and the smell of scones and cake on our birthdays.’

Last week, Auntie Joan died. 99 years of love, wisdom and many a raised eyebrow at each of us at one time or another. She had a delicious smile that hinted at secrets she might share with you some day, and even up to her mid-nineties kept a ramrod straight back, figure to die for and effortless elegance that prompted a 28 year old male friend to comment at my wedding that she was the only 68 year old he had ever fancied.Cheeky, but at the same time, kudos.

If I’ve made her sound like a warm embrace of a woman, she was. She was also a ninja. For most of her working life, Auntie Joan - Joan Nolan MBE - was Vice Consul at the British Embassy in Rosario, and later in Buenos Aires. She started volunteering there during the war, and eventually they started to pay her (nice of them), then promote her.

This had upsides - her influence to help others (a guiding principle of her life), the opportunity to travel, and the people she met. She once told me of an Embassy cocktail party on board a ship attended by Eva and Juan Peron. She had little time for Peron, but was a little flattered when having started to leave down the gangplank he abruptly turned back, sought Auntie Joan out, kissed her hand and apologised profusely for not having said goodbye. Manners counted for a lot with her, so the apparently off-hand Eva was barely mentioned in despatches.

Her job also had downsides: held at gunpoint more than once, and in the constant company of a bodyguard after her boss was kidnapped (the inspiration for Graham Greene’s novel The Honorary Consul). One day a masked gang raided the embassy, rounded up all the staff, tied them up and locked them in the bathroom. But the ringleader treated Joan with weird courtesy, politely requested she enter the bathroom but left her unbound. Joan said afterwards: “ I think that man knew me. And if I ever see those eyes again, I will know who he was.” She kept looking but never did, but she did show us the hail of bullet holes the gang had let off at the outer wall of the embassy before they left.

30 years on, at 85, clearly feeling she had been down this road before, she wrestled an armed thief trying to steal her friend’s car. ‘ Dear, I knew the gun was a toy’, she said breezily when I had my WTAF! Moment on a phone call with her.

Though all this time she looked after my grandparents and my great aunt until their deaths - pretty thankless and back-breakingly hard as they all survived to their nineties and in my great aunt’s case to 101 - as well as her husband Stanley who died when she was still young. Yet she still made time to feed, nurture and look out for her nieces and nephews as they travelled through her flat en route to school, college and work - and then her grand nieces and nephews as they repeated the cycle.

Living in London, I didn’t see as much of Joan as my cousins, but felt just as close to her thanks to her copious letters. And it was her trips to London I remember most. Wafting glamorously into Gatwick in her boucle red overcoat, nipping up to Newcastle for the day to have lunch with a friend (when Dad retold the story, he always added, untruthfully, ‘And the friend wasn’t even at home!”), leaving a cloud of delicate rose scent in her wake, a perfume that always reminded me of her apartment in Rosario. A bit like Buenos Aires itself, Auntie Joan was an evocation of the best bits of 1930’s Europe.

And despite eating like a mouse in her own home - spreading her morning toast with what looked and tasted like wallpaper paste but was actually zero cholesterol cream cheese - her kitchen with its pots and pans, scoured and gleaming within an inch of their lives, was in a constant hiatus of puddings, pies and roasts for the family as well as that iconic plum pudding at Christmas. And when we took her out to eat the appetite she kept hidden at home came tumbling out. I once witnessed her demolish a whole sea bass, noodles and a quarter of a peking duck when we took her to a restaurant in Chinatown. Unlike the rest of my family, she was unafraid of spice and heat.

Serene, always; sassy, sometimes. After all, Joan’s favourite TV programme when she came to visit us in London was The Golden Girls. In a life where everyone depended on her, she was someone comfortable with not needing to depend on anyone else - until old age meant she had to. I used to smile to myself when, in later years, she would end all of her stories with ‘And they said, “Joan, you are the ONLY one who could have done/ solved/ sorted/ this’’. And yet, if we don’t tell the world how talented, determined and capable we are - who else is going to? #thiswomancould

So here are two dishes that we all eat thanks to Auntie Joan - her plum ice cream (with some added spice from cinnamon) and her Spanish Cake, a delicate and sweet treat that evokes those high teas that are still a family tradition. And finally, a dish that evokes the memory of lemon chicken, the dish that she and my daughter Lara would love to make together.

Hasta luego, nuestra querida tia. We were so lucky to have you as long as we did.

Plum ice cream

I have never eaten plum ice cream other than at Auntie Joan’s house and I have no idea why it isn’t a popular flavour commercially. My version only tweaks her original recipe - two egg whites rather than one, a stick of cinnamon and the seeds of a vanilla pod added to the plums as they poach. The brilliant thing about this ice cream - aside from it’s taste of autumn, log fires and sticky crumble - is that you don’t need an ice cream maker.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

300g red-skinned plums

175g caster sugar

¾ cup water

1 cinnamon stick

Seeds from one vanilla pod

Juice of half a lemon

300g double cream

2 egg whites

How to make

Seed and quarter the plums and pop into a pan with the sugar, cinnamon stick, vanilla seeds and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and continue to simmer on a low heat until the plums are soft and the liquid has become syrupy. Turn off the heat and leave for another 10 minutes - you really want the spices and the red skin of the plums to seep into the syrup.

Turn the plums into a sieve and extract as much syrup and pulp as you can into a clean bowl, using the back of a spatula. Cover and chill for at least an hour.

In two separate bowls, whisk the cream until it forms soft peaks (be careful not to overbeat or it will turn into butter) and the egg whites until they form firm peaks.

Alternate folding the cream, then the egg whites, then cream, then egg whites into the plum pulp.

Pour into a freezer container - or just use an oblong cake tin, cover and freeze overnight. Remember to take out of the fridge for 15 mins before serving.

Spanish Cake

This is the perfect cake to eat with a cup of tea or coffee. Light and delicate from texture to flavour. Simple dust of icing sugar on the top and you are good to go. Auntie Joan’s original recipe as typed - which features in Doro’s book - is as spare with detail as one of Bake Off’s technical challenges. Fortunately I featured it in a column I wrote for Choice magazine a few years ago, so have filled in the gaps. Makes 12-16 squares.

Ingredients

125g melted unsalted butter

200g caster sugar

2 eggs, separated

125ml milk

600g plain flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp mixed spice

Icing sugar to serve

How to Make

Heat the oven to 180C. Grease a 20cm square cake tin and line with baking parchment.

Whisk the sugar with the butter until thick and pale. Add the egg yolks and continue to beat for a couple of minutes.

Add the milk and beat again. Finally, sift in the flour, baking powder and spices and mix gently until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the cake batter.

Pour the batter into the cake tin and bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes. The cake is ready when the top is golden and a toothpick or sate stick inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Cool in the cake tine for 5 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack to cool. When cool, dust the surface with icing sugar, cut into squares and serve.

Quick Chicken with kale, haricots and caramelised lemon

Auntie Joan loved chicken, and when we visited Buenos Aires when my daughter Lara was little, she and Auntie Joan would love to make lemon chicken together. Am sure she would have loved this flavour-packed little number, courtesy of Alison Roman in the NY Times.

Ingredients

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 shallot, peeled and cut into 8

6-8 chicken thighs

1 400g can of haricot or cannellini beans

1 bunch kale, leaves only (discard ribs)

1tblspn sunflower oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil for dressing

How to make

Toss the lemon slices and shallots in a small bowl and season.

Heat a large frying pan or skillet, add the sunflower oil, then add the chicken, skin side down. Press the chicken down with a spatula to ensure the maximum surface gets nice and brown. Cook for 5-8 minutes, then cook on the other side for a further 8-10 minutes until cooked through and the chicken skin is nice and crispy. Transfer the chicken to a plate, leaving the fat in the pan.

Add the lemon and shallot to the hot pan - stand pack as it will probably spit and sizzle. Cook, stirring gently, until the lemon has started to caramelise - about 3-5 minutes.

Add the drained beans to the pan and season. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans soak up that caramelised chicken fat - about 4 mins. Working in batches, add kale and toss to wilt, seasoning again as you go.

Return the chicken to the pan, along with the juices that have collected on the plate, and cook for a couple of minutes more.

Serve, drizzled with a little olive oil, and accompany with some crusty bread.

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gosecretscribbles · 4 years

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Stanuary Week 1: Burn

AN: Takes place in canon when the Stans are young, maybe 9 years old. TW: Bullying, 2nd degree burns @stanuary

Stan and Ford were sitting under a tree in a park, trying not to sweat. The park was right across the street from Aunt Sheila’s house. Ma had taken them there for “family bonding time,” but let them run out after Stan got bored and started shooting rubber bands at her doll collection. It was so hot that Ford had left his aviator jacket inside, and the two of them wore shorts instead of their usual pants. It was so hot their clothes felt like flannel. Ford sorely wished he could jump straight into the ocean and not come out till sunset.

Unfortunately, the park was too far from the beach to walk there, although it was close enough that it still got decent tourist traffic. The ice cream truck had essentially parked at the curb for the day. Normally Stan would’ve been over there conning tourists out of their frozen confections, but today it was almost too hot to move. The only reason they had the tree shade to themselves was that Ford intentionally left his hands out of his pockets – most of the kids who came close ran away screaming. It was nice to use his freak powers to his advantage for a change.

In the meantime, Stan had taken to describing the park and all its features as if they were his mortal enemies.

“There it is, Sixer,” Stan whispered. “The greatest weapon of destruction this park has ever known.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a metal slide, Stanley.”

“It’s a metal slide in winter. In the summer it’s a torture device invented by someone with a deep and fathomless hatred of children.”

“Stan.”

“And that see saw,” Stan said dramatically, pointing to the plastic alligator. “Is a kid catapult waiting to happen. Seriously. I want to know who designed playground equipment to be a torture device.”

“Stanleeeeey, it’s too hot to hate inanimate objects,” Ford groaned. “What did the park ever do to you.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen, brother dear.”

Ford huffed and closed his eyes. It was too hot to exist. At what temperature did humans spontaneously combust?

“Bet we could fry an egg on that slide,” Stan mumbled. “What do you think? Gotta be hot enough.”

“Maybe.”

“Bet we could.”

“Mmm.”

“C’mon, it’s a science experiment that involves vandalizing public property. Plus we’ll get a snack out of it.”

“You want to eat cooked food? In this weather?”

The grass beside him rustled. Ford cracked an eye open to see Stanley stumble to his feet, then stagger dramatically across the grass towards the street toward their aunt’s house. Ford thought about calling after him, but the heat utterly sapped his energy. He closed his eyes and pretended not to exist. He heard someone step closer, then give a choked gasp and hurry away. He clenched his fists and pretended even harder.

A few minutes later he heard more footsteps and this time felt a tap on one foot. He looked up to see Stanley bending over him, grinning, an egg in each hand.

“I got the goods,” he said in a corny Chicago accent.

“Great. Now keep standing there, you’re giving me extra shade.”

“Nu-uh, Mr. Scientist. You’re gonna come do science things with me. I’ll let you use fancy words like ‘experiment’ and ‘hypotenuse’ and everything.”

“I think you mean ‘hypothesis,’” Ford grumbled, but he let Stan pull him to his feet and the two of them wandered to the slide. Ford couldn’t even look directly at the metal; it gleamed too brightly in the sun, and he could actually feel the heat radiate off of it like a physical force. “Geez, maybe this thing really is hot enough. That would have to be, what, at least 144 degrees Fahrenheit, so 62.6 degrees Celsius?”

“Heck if I know. Ready?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Stan handed him an egg. The two of them tapped the shells against the slide, then cracked it. The eggs actually hissed quietly as they slid over the metal, and immediately the albumins, mucoproteins, and globulin began to coagulate. Ford said as much.

“So, the egg white is turning white?” Stan asked.

“That’s what I said. You said I could use fancy words,” he pointed out.

“I regret so much of my life.”

“Whoa,” said a voice from behind them. “Check it out, there really are six fingers!”

They whipped around. A kid slightly older and taller looked down at them, a toddler clutching her leg, staring wide-eyed at Ford’s hands. He hid them behind his back.

“Whoa, you can count to six!” Stan said, equally wide-eyed. “That’s so impressive! You should get a medal!”

The girl scowled. “Shut up, Ioser, I wasn’t talking to you. Hey,” she addressed Ford. “are you cursed or something? Six is like, a devil number, you know.”

“I’m not cursed.”

“Are you sick or something?”

Stan stepped up, toe to toe with her. “The only thing sick around here is you. Get lost.”

“Let’s just go,” Ford mumbled, reaching for Stan’s shoulder. The toddler saw his hand and gave a shriek.

“Don’t scare her!” the older kid said sharply, shoving Stan aside to scowl at Ford.

Stan shoved her back. “She’s only scared ‘cuz you’re teaching her stupid superstitions!”

“I told you to shut up!”

“And I told you –”

“Stop, stop!”

Ford moved forward, reaching to pull Stan away from the shoving match. The older kid whirled on him and shoved, hard. The metal slide was directly behind him. He fell backwards and braced himself.

But instead of hot metal, he landed on Stan’s lap with Stan underneath him, screaming as the hot metal slide seared his legs.

“Stanley!”

Ford leaped to his feet and pulled his brother off. Stan stumbled forward, one hand held out behind him, not touching his thighs. Ford leaned over to look and sucked in his breath. Stan somehow hadn’t hit the cooked eggs, but the backs of his thighs were now two angry red burns already beginning to blister.

“Ow,” Stan whimpered.

“Get him ice!” Ford shouted at the kid, but she just squeaked and darted away, the toddler right behind her. None of the other kids were close and every adult was conveniently looking in the opposite direction. Ford gritted his teeth. “Fine, c’mon, we gotta get to Sheila’s house. She’ll have a freezer and we can cover your burns in egg whites, too.”

“You gonna cook an egg on me now?” Stan asked weakly.

“No, if you combine egg whites with silver sulfadiazine cream and apply it to second-degree burns –”

“Sixer, I’m too injured for science right now.”

“Lean on me, just walk slow.”

Stan obeyed, still bent over like an old man. The day was still boiling hot, but by the time they were halfway across the grass, Stan’s hand was cold and clammy in Ford’s. His breathing came in trembly gasps and Ford was sweating from stress as much as heat. He’d never seen his brother in so much pain before. Why did this always happen? It was just like last summer with the pitchforks, only this time his brother got hurt!

“Mom!” Ford shouted as soon as they made the front door. “Mom! Aunt Sheila! MOM! STAN’S HURT!”

Sheila’s house was old and reeked of cats. The front door opened into the living room, with a hallway on the left that led to the kitchen and staircase. There came an abrupt clatter of teacups and Ma appeared in the hallway, curls of hair plastered to her face in the heat. Aunt Sheila appeared behind her, a near-copy of their mom but with blond hair and thinner lips.

“What happened this time?” Aunt Sheila sniffed. “Throw a rock at a cat?”

“Someone pushed him onto the slide and his legs are blistering, look!” He pulled Stan gently forward, turning him so they could see his legs.

Ma paled. “Stan!”

“Am I poached or scrambled?” he asked weakly.

“Sheila, I’ll take some of your ice in a towel,” Ma ordered. “Stanford, I want ten egg yolks and a baster to spread them with. We’ll start with the ice, let me know when the eggs are ready.”

“Hey,” Stan protested, when Ford immediately moved for the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back.”

“And you’ll be on the couch,” Ma said, taking Ford’s place in front of Stan. “Go on, couch time. You’ll lie on your stomach.”

“I’ll be back with the ice,” Sheila promised, then disappeared into the kitchen. Ford followed her. “Stanford, eggs will be in the refrigerator, top shelf on the left. Baster is in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

They worked quickly, and his aunt hurried to the next room with the ice pack. It really worried Ford that he couldn’t hear his brother’s voice. Normally he’d be taking full advantage of the special treatment. And those blisters – he’d never seen a burn that bad.

He had to crack extra eggs because his hands kept shaking and the shell would puncture the yoke, but eventually he finished the bowl with just a little curl of yellow in it and brought it to the living room with the baster. Stan was lying on his stomach on the couch, both hands tightly gripping the couch cushions, the ice pack resting on his thighs.

“I have the egg whites,” Ford said, hurrying forward.

Ma nodded. “Good. Alright, Stan, time to make like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Stan grunted but stayed still.

Ma motioned Ford over and took the bowl while Sheila removed the ice pack. They were almost worse than before, huge clear bubbles stretched over Stan’s skin.

“It’s not so bad,” Sheila said, catching sight of his face. “Egg whites are an old trick and a good one. Since we’re treating him right away, he shouldn’t even scar.”

Ma dipped the basting brush in the egg whites, then swept it gently over Stan’s left thigh.

Immediately Stan screamed, left leg kicking out. Ford jumped forward and grabbed his ankle, holding Stan’s leg down as his scream turned into a moan. Ma quickly brushed him again, moving fast to slather the area before moving to the next leg. Ford stared at the back of his brother’s head, the way his shoulders bunched with pain. Ford was hot. Way too hot. He was flooded with heat. He saw Stan’s head pressed deep into the cushions to muffle his yells and he felt like his very blood was boiling and his gut roiled with lava.

He didn’t even notice when he’d switched legs, but Ma rapped his knuckles sharply with the handle of the baster and he let go.

“We’re done,” she was saying, or something like it, and then Ford was next to his brother, squeezing Stan’s hand in both of his.

“You don’t – have to apologize,” Stan gasped into the pillows.

Ford hadn’t even realized he was talking. “You shouldn’t have been hurt,” he said, and his voice sounded far away. “Don’t scream like that again.”

“Like – I’m being burned? Gee, okay.”

“It’s not funny. It’s not funny.”

“Hey.” Stan turned his head so their eyes could meet. His face was white and drawn with pain. Ford realized with a shock that there were tears in his eyes. “Don’t – guh – don’t cry. Could – you squeeze harder? It helps – I don’t know why –”

Ford squeezed until Stan’s fingertips turned purple.

“Better,” Stan said, blinking hard. “That – metal slide – really has it – out for me.”

Ford choked out a laugh. “You’re practically mortal enemies.”

A hint of a smile curved Stan’s mouth. “Yeah. Stan Man – versus – Slide Slayer. That’s – comic book origin, right there. Bet I could – make a comic –”

“Not today you won’t,” Ma said, coming back into the room. She had a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Here. Nothing like an allergy pill to knock you out cold.”

“Cold would be good,” Stan managed.

Ford helped him tilt his head at an angle so he could drink the water, and Stan choked down the pill. Ma took the cup back with a sigh.

“Nothing else to do but wait. Ah, well. Your Pa’ll be by around 5 to pick us up. Ford, you come get me and Sheila if he wakes up or needs a fresh batch of egg whites; we’ll reapply those every time the old layer dries.”

“Yes, Ma,” Ford said.

“You’ll stay?” Stan asked Ford, after she’d left.

“I’ll stay,” Ford promised.

“Those kids,” he said suddenly. “You’re not – cursed. Okay?”

“I know I’m not.”

“Good.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut. A tear leaked out and ran across the bridge of his nose.

“Please don’t cry!”

“Hurts.”

“You’ll go to sleep soon,” Ford said, somewhat desperately. “And! And! This totally gives you bragging rights. Right now you are absolutely hotter than anyone else in that whole park. You’re literally Hot Stuff!”

Stan sputtered, a grin tugging his lips. “Ha. I was already – hot stuff. This just – makes me – Hotter Stuff.”

His grip on Ford’s hands was already going slack. It took a few long minutes, but eventually Stan fell asleep. Ford didn’t let go of Stan’s hand, though.

“I’m not cursed,” he said quietly. “I know I’m not, because I have a brother like you.”

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