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thefairyletters · 3 years

Note

I saw you rb a SaiSaku post and was curious if you had any fanfic recs for this rarepair?!

Do I have?!!!!! I am currently binging this ship so you couldn't have asked this at better time.

This pair is not a crack ship! Crack would mean they have not shared more than two words with each other. But SaiSaku interactions always bordered on romance and best friends who don't act like it. Not only Sakura was the first person to acknowledge Sai had human side to him and bonded with him over his painting, Sai was also the only person outside Sasuke (in part 1) to be able tell her fake smiles and he always understood her feelings better than other characters. Had Sakura ever only cared for good looks (something she don't) then with Sai she'd get that and so much more.

I have always considered SaiSaku as the next best thing after NaruSaku. They had too much potential as a couple. I am not bitter that InoSai became a thing but looking at them I only feel that "Ino didn't get Sasuke so she get his look-alike." Besides, Sai gave people nicknames that are opposites to what actually feels about them – Naruto as Dickless, Sakura as Hag/Ugly and Ino as Beautiful – which makes it worse. Both Ino and Sai deserve better than this. If Kishi has shown them together more often or had interactions between them similar to SaiSaku then I can understand why Ino is his light. I guess it is also SP's fault for showing them in different light. For all SP hates Sakura, they enjoy messing up with her fans by feeding them false hope.

Whenever I want to read something hilarious but deep, SaiSaku is my to-go couple. Usually angsty, or full bout of insults and punches. There's no in between with them.

. SaiSaku .

This list contains my favorite SaiSaku collection. I am not sure if you like SaiSaku only as romance ship but this list also contain stories that expands on SaiSaku friendship, something I absolutely adore.

Could Roses Bloom? : RiseoftheBlossom || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || GaaSaku, SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || Ongoing

Sai glanced downwards at his body, the sudden override of his thoughts causing his mind to blank. What did that mean? Had he been straying too close to a piece of information Danzo didn't want him to have or share? Or was it his mind's natural response to shutting down any form of emotion, even if it was just the slightest of inclination towards feeling something?

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, SaiSaku friendship, confused-over-his-feelings!Sai, slow burn, GaaSaku, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, angst with fluff

hello, bright eyes (been waiting on you) : mouseymightymarvellous || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

“look underneath the underneath,” except no one has ever really bothered to look at sakura and see her. and then there is a boy (isn’t there always). maybe they’re both just ghosts, making each other real.

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, confused-over-her-feelings!Sakura, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, Sai and Sakura who don't feel like they belong, angst with fluff, sad!Sai

Oh God That’s Heaven : blueberrysconesandfolkmusic || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

Sakura finds Sai sick, alone, and in desperate need of a hand that doesn't hurt.

Go for it if you like: boys who are bad at feelings, bleeding-heart!Sakura, sad-and-lonely!Sai, Sai and Sakura who are secretly best friends, Sai with PTSD, protective!team7

for everything blue and bright : sinemoras09 || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku, SasuSaku || Angst || One Shot

The five stages of human arousal.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, obsessed!Sakura, One-sided love, Unrequited-love-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it!SaiSaku, no-good-very-bad!Ending, pining!Sai, bittersweet lemon

A mess of me : Dovey || M || AO3 || Pre-Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Yandere Romance || Complete

In which Sai is a good ANBU agent with an unusual hobby, and Sakura grows up with a #1 fan rooting for her....even if she doesn't know it. Or: Sai starts stalking Sakura when they're both young to satisfy his curiousity about 'normalcy', gets attached, and eventually gets very frustrated that nobody else seems to notice her potential as a shinobi and takes matters into his own hands- and delights in being Sakura's prime source of validation because of it.

Go for it if you like: obsessed!Sai, manipulation, stalker!Sai, mentor!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, distraught!Kakashi, fluff, baby-Sai-stalking-baby-Sakura, abusive haruno household

There is sunshine on his forehead : amako || T || AO3 || Soulmate AU || SaiSaku but it's complicated || Angst, Hurt/Comfort || One Shot

Sakura is only three when she promises herself that Sasuke will die by her hand, whoever he is.

Go for it if you like: dysfunctional Team 7, Soulmate AU, Unrequited love feels, angst heavy, Sai and Sakura only want to belong, NaruSasu, NaruSaku but not really, betrayal heavy, no fluff only pain, SaiSaku, Team 7 taking Sakura for granted, Sakura is so done

In theory : nimblnymph || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Humor || One Shot

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sai was about to learn that this theory applied to more than just physics. And that putting theory into practice sometimes gave unexpected results.

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, teacher!Sakura, student!Sai, Sai getting educated, Sakura educating Sai, Kisses, Sai being Sai, Sakura with patience of god

Loathing : i AM the Random Idiot || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Angst || One Shot

Define "hatred."

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, hurt!Sai, Angst, Onions, SakuSai bonding over mutual hate, love is overrated anyway

Bunk Mates : ice bitten || T || FFN || Shippuden || Team 7 || Humor, Friendship || One Shot

In which Sasuke and Naruto find out Sakura has been sleeping over at Sai's. Short stories surrounding Sakura, Sai, and the invasive people of Konoha.

Go for it if you like: sassy!Sai, protective!Team7, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, Perfect characterisation, Canon feels

Paint me with Colour : PeregrineFlight || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku|| Humor, Friendship || Incomplete

Sai and Sakura must travel to the Land of Lightning to retrieve something for the Daimyo, they have to travel as a married couple. Much to Naruto's amusement.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, pretend marriage, SaiSaku bonding over mission, fluffy angst, adorable!Sai

Forget Me Not : Joy-girl || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || Team 7 || Angst, Friendship || Complete

Sometimes it's easy to forget how important someone is when the person is always in the background – but Sakura's boys still remember. Glimpses of her importance from each member of her team.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, underappreciated Sakura, Team7 family, Family feels, sad!Sakura, protective!Team7 males, Sakura appreciation, SaiSaku bond, Team7Saku feels, avenger!Teammates

Add Me Colour : Cella N || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku || Drama, Romance || Complete

"All my life is white. Paint me. Add me colour."

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sakura, Sai being Sai, confused!Sakura, angst, poetic translation, colors

Euphemisms : Nymbis || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor, Romance || Complete(?)

Drabbles about Sai, Sakura, and their strange attempts at bonding.

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, Hilarious friendships, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches, Raunchy stuff

Ricochet : Strix 4 || T || FFN || Shippuden AU || Team 7 || Family, Drama || Complete(?)

Sometimes it's easy to see the familiar in the faces around you. Sometimes it sucks to figure out why.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, Team7 as family, Family feels, wise!Sakura, SaiSaku bond, Sai's place in team 7

Pick up lines : Demoneyes 14 || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor || One Shot

Ero sennin's pick up lines! Guaranteed to get the girl or your money back! Well... it would be more guaranteed if it hadn't fallen on his face in the library, but heck, Sai will try anything once! Maybe it will save him a beating from Sakura...

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches

Special mentions...

Study of the Heart : teresa

In an effort to become a better friend, Sai undertakes a study of love, not really understanding how difficult it could be, and how surprising.

The Blood of a Cherry Blossom : Slytherin Kunoichi

Originally, for Halloween, Sai hadn't decided what to go as, but once he glimpsed at the bleeding flesh on Sakura's neck, he suddenly had the urge to be a vampire…

Old Dogs, New Tricks : yuugiri

After an unprecedented turn of events, the Fifth Hokage has officially assigned Sakura Haruno the responsibility to make Sai recover what he had lost; his emotions. With a time limit of a month, will Sakura succeed in this mission?

Once More, With Feeling : Cynchick

Sakura didn't know what she was thinking when she showed up on his doorstep.

Ink Me : Krickitat

Exploring the art of bod-modification Sakura takes a step into the unknown world of the exquisite pain of art.

The Uchiha Secret : Slytherin Kunoichi

Sasuke froze as he stared at Sai's eyes, which were identical to his Uchiha Sharingan eyes now: red with anger and black with hatred...One family secret could threaten and shake three lives forever. Bonds will be broken.

My babies don't get enough love in the world.

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dork-empress · 3 years

Text

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

#lucy quinzel #damian wayne #batman #harley quinn #dc fanfic

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Mono no Aware

(Chapter Nine)

Intro - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine

Mono No Aware, ‘the pathos of things’, a melancholic appreciation of the transiency of existence. That fleeting moment when you realized that something you love is bound to disappear. Like life.

pairing : grim reaper! Yuta Nakamoto x female doctor! Reader

chapter word count : 1.3k words

chapter genre : fluff, angst

chapter warning : death, cursing, suicide, poison

Yuta hated the look on her face when he last saw her. But he needed to keep her safe or bad things might happen to her. Johnny warned him of this before but he didn't listen, the yearning to stay with her much bigger than the want to keep her safe. In contrast to what he did in the past.

Besides, it was him who killed her. All he wanted back then was to save the princess, to save her. In the end, it was him who brought her death.

Yuta is scared that it might happen again. Her safety is more important now. He should stop seeing her.

But the divine being had been playing jokes on him when it brought him to the hospital where she works. He saw how she stopped in her tracks then sighed upon seeing him. She's going to cry again. He's sure of that.

The moment the soul exited the emergency room, Yuta sighed and asked him to just follow him. He needed to finish his work early. Yuta handed him the drink and when the man's soul disappeared, he immediately drove his motorbike back to the hospital.

"Hi." he greeted the nurse in the lobby. "Have you seen Dr. Y/N?" The other nurses look at him in awe, some whispering that he's handsome and that he might be the doctor's boyfriend. One nurse claimed that he saw her going to the rooftop and he smiled, thanking him before heading to where he said she is.

He searched for her among the crowd until he reached a mini-garden and found her crouched down behind the flower bed, shoulders heaving up and down. She's crying. Hesitant, he reached for her hair. That silky hair that his fingers can remember. He thought the reason was that she is a princess but now he realized, it was because she's Y/N.

"Leave me alone, Doyoung." She whispered and Yuta felt betrayed. But then, he was the one who told her not to come near him. Why is he even here? Johnny will just get mad at him. "I hate how everyone dies and just leaves us."

"They don't." She stared at him in surprise, her eyes glistening because of the tears. She's so beautiful. "A pretty princess once told me that the stars are the souls of those who die." He wiped her tears with his thumb. "And that cherry blossoms are the blood of the dead. They never left us. They're always here with us."

Maybe she just needed someone to comfort her that her arms wrapped around him, crying in his embrace. Yuta was seated on the rooftop floor, the weeping girl in his arms. And he never wished to be somewhere else this moment. "You're doing so well, Y/N." He threaded his fingers on her hair, "You're doing your best. It's not your fault that they're dying, it's destiny." Yuta whispered. "I wish one day this will stop hurting you."

"I don't want to see you hurt, Y/N."

----

The coffee shop looks different in dim light now that it's close and there's only the two of them inside. Yuta made her a macchiato and the lemon cheesecake. She calls it the heavenly combination that made him chuckle at how cute she's being.

"Thank you for the hydrangeas." She said, rubbing the rim of her cup.

"Jungwoo said that it's better to give them. I'm glad Johnny delivered them well." She nodded at that. "Did he tell you something?"

Y/N took a bite of the lemon cake then drank her macchiato. "Some things." She whispered. He kept his gaze on her. Nothing changed. It's still her. The princess he fell in love with. The doctor who saved that boy and cried for the old lady she doesn't even know. Y/N who got hurt because of him. "I still have a lot of questions, though."

Yuta nodded. He's sure of that. He has a lot of questions himself. A light glance on the watch above the table and he nodded. "How did you become a grim reaper?"

He shrugged. "Johnny said it's a punishment for our sins. Because of the blood in our hands…"

"Does this mean I'll be a grim reaper when I die?" She asked innocently then stared at him. "Wait, did you die?" Again, Yuta shrugged. He isn't sure. He can't remember that. "You said something about a princess, do you remember your past life?"

He was startled. Should he let her know that she is that princess?

Instead, Yuta nodded. "A swordsman. I worked for the rebels and killed people, especially in the monarchy. I was tasked to kill the king…" His gaze fell on her who was just staring at him as well. Her eyes were glistening in the dim lights, the image of the princess appearing in his eyes. The princess he loved. "But I killed the girl I love."

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. "So it isn't really a dream?" Y/N said more to herself. "I saw you. The black robe, the riverbed, the white bracelet." Yuta's eyes widened in surprise. She knew? "You were holding me in your arms."

Why would she dream of that? Is she really the princess? Then why does she have to appear in front of him now? "Yuta, I think this is the reason why I can see you."

He gave her a confused look before she continued, "We're connected. And I think I'm the key for you to get out of this grim reaper business."

That was logical. The past and the present always have a connection and what she said makes sense. Is she truly his ticket to get out of this? What would happen to her if he forced that idea? This is the first time this happened in a long time he had been a grim reaper. It scared him and excited him at the same time. But how?

Instead of decreasing, his questions just got deeper confusing him.

----

He leaned on his motorbike, watching his wristwatch turn bright red. A male soul. He wondered how old he is.

A soul, probably in his late forties, went outside the door smiling at him. He was all clad in black, "I was waiting for you, Mr. Grim Reaper." He was expecting him? Yuta's eyes gazed at the familiar wristwatch on his wrist. He's also a grim reaper? How?

The younger was wary at how to ask him things. How did he die? He's a grim reaper. “It might still be hard but you’ll get out of it soon.”

“How?”

“The connection of your past and present.” So what Y/N said might be true. She might really be his ticket out of here. “The reason why you cheat your death to become a grim reaper.” Cheat his death? The older man smiled. “We did bad things in the past but we didn’t pay for it so the divine being is punishing us. We cheat death by killing ourselves.”

He became a grim reaper because he killed himself? “Remember that the divine being only wants to protect you.” He drank the coffee in front of him before smiling at him. “They're always watching you and your reason.” Then he disappeared.

His head throb that instant, the same stinging pain as before. All he could see is a small light from the moon, illuminating a body in front of him. He touched his bracelet, tears falling to the white bead. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered while removing the bracelet and placing it above her dead body.

“Please forgive me.” Every word feels poison in his tongue. Raindrops started falling, hiding the tears in his eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” Yuta mumbled as his eyes gazed on the small bottle with dark liquid. “I love you, Y/N.”

A coffee cup fell that snapped him back to his senses. The brewed coffee looking exactly like the poison he drank. Is that why he’s offering coffee to souls?

He really did cheat his way in death. All because of her. His reason. Then Y/N is indeed his ticket out of here.

TEN

taglist : @readers-posts @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @ytzvivi @mel-yjh @shiningstar-byulxx @cosmiclatte28 @kyuwoyo @a-bts-world @fineapplehoe @saladiop3 @yutazen01

Posting early because I will be gone for the whole day. Two more chapters left and I’m still thinking if I’m in the right track for the ending or not. I’ll upload chapter ten on Wednesday then the final chapter on Friday so I can finish the series this week.

Anyways, I would like to express my deep gratitude for the ten people who were still reading this. I honestly wanted to give up this series but thank you @a-bts-world for always commenting on every chapter and waiting for the upload. Thank you for giving me the motivation to continue this. 😄

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta chaptered #yuta nakamoto chaptered #nakamoto yuta chaptered #yuta angst #nakamoto yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst

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adamantiumdragonfly · 3 years

Text

“...A time when the United States is what we fight for...”

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military grade pencils and scraps of paper. Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she’s left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover’s voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

taglist: @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @jamie506101-deactivated20210209 @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @easy-company-tradition @pxpeyewynn @50svibes

No Ordinary Time

When the doorbell rang at the Grisham Hall for Ladies, it was a house-wide thrill, shivering down the very spine of the building and sending chills into every resident. A doorbell ring, with its chime calling every girl to their feet in a downward flight, could mean one of two things: a visitor or a postman. Visitors, particularly of the sought after male variety, were scarce since the war had been put on to boil some three years previously. Now, with the residents tending home fires and not the flaming passions of suitors, a postman was more likely. A postman, or rather post-boy, were the only kindling to the fires of romance.

But, on a dim March morning with the sky heavy and ready to bleed, the doorbell had been run and so began the usual stampede of pumps on hardwood floors. There should have been only two possibilities and yet, Jeannette Edwards wasn't a postman or anything that the anxiously awaiting faces expected. She had rung the bell and stepped back in surprise and a tiny bit of fright at the fervor and hunger that met her behind the door wrenched from it’s frame by a seemingly harmless girl.

She shouldn’t have been so ferocious of a predator as she seemed, this little thing with short brown hair and a dickie color edged in red ribbon but Jeannette stepped back all the same. This hadn’t been what Jeannette had expected either.

Grisham had come highly recommended, as a good, upstanding place for good, upstanding girls. Jeannette thought she had fit that description rather well and had packed her things in the carpet bag she now clutched tightly in one whitened fist. Could this carpet bag that had first belonged to her mother be used as a weapon to fend off this frightening girl and her hungry eyes?

“You aren’t Davis,” The girl huffed and moved to shut the door. Jeannette hadn’t come all the way from Hughestown to be turned away by someone looking for a Davis but she didn’t move fast enough.

A hand, surely one of God’s angels come down from heaven, stopped the door before the girl could shut Jeannette out from her new home.

“Sorry about that,” The hand’s owner said. She might as well have been an angel as she pushed the door open again, giving full view of her face. Not nearly as intimidating as this little rabid creature before her but there was something in her dark eyes that didn’t set Jeannette completely at ease.

“Oh,” Jeannette said. “That’s quite alright.”

“It isn’t really. Bess turns into a monster when she hasn’t heard from her beau in a few days,” The girl said, tossing her long black curls over her shoulder. She wore them loose, a stark contrast to the tight pins in the other girl, Bess’s, locks of chestnut brown. “Sorry you had to be in her path.”

“Who’s Davis?” Jeannette stammered, gripping her carpet bag tighter and trying not to wobble in her too big pumps. She had bought them before the war, when she had still been hopeful that she’d grow to fit them. But with spending frivolously unpatriotic and her shoe size stubbornly remaining, Jeannette had been left with loose pumps and aching feet.

“THERE HE IS!” Bess leapt past Jeannette, brushing her roughly in her flight off the wooden porch and flying into the dripping rain. She wore no shoes and her bobby socks were soaked on the puddled pavers as she ran towards the approaching youth in a yellow raincoat.

“Davis is the mail carrier.” the dark haired girl explained. “He was running late today. We get antsy when we don’t get our letters. I’m sorry I don’t think I-”

“Jeannette.” She extended her hand. “Jeannette Edwards.”

Those dark eyes studied her, flicking over her navy blue hat into which her frizzy tomato red hair was tucked, all the way down her too big pumps before shaking Jeannette’s outstretched hand. “Estelle Tran.”

Behind those dark eyes lay a studious mind that wrote down every variable and equation the world threw at her, bringing up the final unfair sum and accepting it as fact. Estelle was a woman of facts, something that Jeannette rarely dealt in.

The idea of chasing a mail carrier down flooded steps to retrieve a sought-after letter had never once crossed Jeannette’s mind but it seemed these girls found it a daily occurrence. Jeannette’s gaze was cast to the left of the doorway where the mailbox was hung, the address and the name of the establishment emblazoned on the wood in cut out letters.

“I’m sorry, I believe I came to the wrong place,” She said, gesturing at the box where the “I” had been replaced by a mystifying “E”. “I’m looking for Grisham Hall,”

“Oh you are in the right place,” Bess jogged back up the path, her stockings slapping against the stone pavers like webbed feet. “We knocked the ‘I’ off and had to make do. Grisham, Gresham. It’s all the same, really,”

“Jeannette Edwards,” The redhead pushed her hand forward, offering it to the creature who had been ready to shut her out in this damp cold. Bess seemed in better spirits now, a wad of letters in her hand.

“Elizabeth Ferguson,” Her bobbed brown hair bounced against her cheeks as Elizabeth leaned forward to take Jeannette’s hand. “You can call me Bess, Beth, I really don’t mind. Crops good this week,” Bess turned to Estelle and waved the mail under her companion’s nose.

“Stop waving and let me look,” Estelle plucked the letters from Bess’s hands, holding them out of reach as the brunette leapt for them.

“Hang on,” Bess cried, trying in vain to reach the envelopes. “Two of them are for me.”

When the correspondence had been returned to their rightful recipient, Bess squealed and darted back into the house, sliding across the foyer in her slick stockings.

“Better wake Connie and Margo,” Estelle called over her shoulder as she sorted through the last of the letters. She turned to go inside but paused, as if remembering that Jeannette was there, out in the drizzling rain and the damp air. “You are looking for Grisham Hall, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “I’m-”

“The new tenant,” Estelle finished for her. “Mrs. G told us. Come on then,”

Allowing herself to be waved inside, Jeannette cast her gaze around the foyer of cherry-stained wood and bright electric lights, a stark contrast to the gloom and doom of the world outside. The scent of lemon cleaner that hung in the air was the same brand that Jeannette’s mother had used in the houses she cleaned. A strange connection between the hills of Pennsylvania and the riverside of Virginia that was a comfort as much as a weight. This house was far too clean to be anything from Jeannette’s home and it fit the bill for good and upstanding. This house was the picture of American dreams and patriotism with it’s large staircase and adjoining room for a grand piano and little else.

Jeannette hung back as Estelle pushed her way further into the house as if she wasn’t stunned by the cherry-wood and lemon cleaner. Those too big shoes looked foolish and the wish for a pair that fit was unpatriotic in this bright house with it’s star banner in the window. Shuffling her feet, Jeannette cast her gaze down.

“Mrs G!” Estelle shouted. Deep from the belly of this house, came a faint response.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Estelle waited for Jeannette to follow her through the side door into a back hall, past the dining room set for an army and a sunroom that was dark under the storm brewing outside, and into the even brighter kitchen.

“Mrs. G, Ms. Edwards is here,” Estelle called and the woman at the counter turned away from the scraps of dough, her hands dusted in flour.

“I was expecting a call from the station,” Mrs. Grisham chided, wiping her hands across a spotless apron, sending a wince through Jeannette’s frame at the destruction of such clean linen. “We were going to send the car with Constance.”

“I took a bus and then a cab. It was no trouble,” Jeannette said. “I didn’t want to impose,”

Mrs. Grisham blustered and waved a hand, sending flour cascading into the air, assuring Jeannette that it was no trouble at all. She was a matronly, if not clumsy, woman who’s nice house and nice clothes set the tone for the good and upstanding boarding house she ran. The girls who had been in her care were loved fiercely and looked after tenderly with a maternal, if not iron, fist. She was no stranger to hard work and saw the running of this hall for ladies as her battlefield. While the muddied stairs and the young women were not German soldiers or Pacific islands, they were a worthy opponent all the same.

“I saw your banner, Mrs. Grisham,” Jeannette said, gesturing back the way she had come. “Your son?”

Stars marked windows and hearts, declaring that the ultimate show of patriotism had been brandished in that home. Their home fires were stoked a little more vigorously and their women sat in wait a little more earnestly. Jeannette had seen many on her trip down from Pennsylvania and knew still more in her hometown; there it stung to put names to the stars in windows.

“Yes,” Mrs. Grisham said, with a thin smile. “Arthur is in the Pacific. And you?”

“Two brothers in North Africa,” Two stars for Jeannette’s mother. “A cousin in the Navy, and a friend. Last I heard, he was in England.”

Those names were hard to forget. Brothers. Friends. Family. Everyone knew someone who was fighting, everyone had a letter that they could send.

Her friend had taken up space in her mind since he had waved goodbye on that train. She carried those dark eyes and that crooked smile in her carpet bag across state lines and into Norfolk, etched into her memory with the letters and the memories. Jeannette hadn’t heard from him in several weeks and she was growing steadily more concerned. They had grown up together and he had always been in her life in some form or fashion, in letters or in days under the trees.

“Mine too!” Bessie cried. “Postmarked Aldbourne.”

“Now, you know how Estelle feels about all this talk,” Mrs. Grisham said softly. “Did you have your address changed, dear? Letters are a big to-do around here.”

Jeannette didn’t cling to every letter, every word at first. She hadn’t known what a lifeline those pencil-etched papers of military issued paper, in the storm of the current world. She had begun to see how impervious the lead was to the wiles of the storms.

“My mother will forward any letters from home,” Jeannette said.

“Now, enough of all this letter talk,” Mrs. Grisham said. “You got a job on base, didn’t you?”

Jeannette nodded.

“You are in luck. Most of the girls here work on base and there is always plenty of room in the car. Dinners and breakfasts are as a home but lunches are up to you. I trust you’ll join us tonight? I’ve been saving my coupons.”

“Mrs. G is making her apple pie,” Bessie said. “It ranks 4th best.”

“I will win first place, mark my words,” Mrs. G teased. “You’ll find we are very relaxed here, Jeannette. I don’t care much what you get up to, just keep your wits about you. These Navy men-” Mrs. Grisham shuddered as if repelled by the thought of that branch of the US military. “Bess and Estelle will show you your room. You’ll have to share.”

Once Jeannette had assured Mrs. G that she had shared a room her whole life and it didn’t matter to her, the landlady smiled and waved them up the back staircase. Following the damp footprints of Bess up the third floor, she let her eyes wander to the photos on the walls. Scenic views of the river that Jeannette knew was only a few miles away shared space with the portraits of a young boy and a much younger Mrs. Grisham. Beside her was the assumed Mr. Grisham, who’s dark eyes followed Jeannette up the stairs long after his face had ceased to be represented in the family photographs. It was almost poetic, to see the changes in the family as Jeannette followed Bess and Estelle up the stairs.

Between the days by the river and the picnic blankets on the beach, Arthur grew up and Mrs. Grisham grew grayer. Jeannette had been a girl prone to empathy often to her detriment and felt the pang of nostalgia deeper as they ascended till the final frame on the landing showed the now older and grimmer son who Jeannette had seen as a child not seven steps back, dressed up in his uniform. Bess and Estelle had passed these photos daily and knew the stories behind them, having seen Arthur in the flesh before the Navy had stolen him away. They felt the pang as Jeannette did, but sharper. They knew the shy and quiet boy wasn’t in that uniform.

They ignored the second floor, leaving Mrs. Grisham’s shrine to how things had been before Arhtur untouched and continued to the third floor, where the photos were scarce and replaced with paintings of long forgotten relatives and odd landscapes. Bess paused to point out that the oar on the side of the boat depicted wasn’t actually an oar but a “sneaky duck. I didn’t know until Carrie told me. Looks like an oar, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” Jeannette admitted. “Did a Grisham paint it?”

Estelle turned from where she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lagging Jeannette and Bess. “The previous owner of this house, a great aunt of Mrs. Grisham’s, Beverly Simmons, was an amatuer artist.”

“Emphasis on the amatuer,” Bess muttered as she jogged up the last few steps. “Mrs. G doesn’t want to see ducks that look like boats on the main floor so we are forced to look at their sorry tails everyday.”

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Jeannette said, wanting to defend the ducks. She tilted her head, getting a better look. “Well…”

“They wear on you after a few weeks,” Estelle said, beckoning Jeannette up the stairs. ”You’ll see.”

The frightening vision of these misshapen ducks waddling up the stairs after her was enough to quicken Jeannette’s pace, securing her safety on the landing where Estelle and Bess had already moved on.

“You’ll be on the left,” Bess said, poking her head into a doorway and shouting, “Margo! Calm down, it’s just me. You’ve got a letter.”

The landing had an overstuffed armchair, a bookcase where all the inhabitants leaned to the left, and a single window that sent slanting gray light onto the wooden floor that creaked under Jeannette’s uncertain feet. It looked like a cozy place to sit and read on a rainy day such as this if there hadn’t been a weight in the air. It wound between the branching doorways, under the floorboards, and sank into Jeannette’s bones. It was an anticipation that was as intoxicating as it was melancholy.

The American homefront had known only one thing in the two years since they had found themselves in a simmering war and had taken it upon themselves to bring it to an unrelenting boil. In the heat of the flames of passion, love, and patriotism, the country was left with an immense shadow. The waiting. Like dolls abandoned in their beautifully crafted house, dust collected on their painted, smiling faces.

Jeannette had known the numbing of waiting, the thrill of the letter in her hands, the way she held them so tightly. Her mother hadn’t understood, quite so deeply. Ada didn’t understand, quite so sharply. She had never felt it as strongly as she did in this house. Women in a war but not fighting for it. Women who were aching for those who did fight but putting up their own battles. It was almost poetic, the anticipation.

This anticipation had become the drive behind her movement, the striking match to her move down to Norfolk. This fire needed to be stoked by more than just letters. Ink didn’t catch quite like working for the war effort. Jeannette had been fond of the meter and beat of poetry, finding solace from the cole-tinged air in the yellowed pages of Maffei, and Shakespeare. Her brothers and their friends never understood her obsession, save one. He would sneak books from the library in Pittston and slide them under her window. Jeannette smiled at the memory. She had spent many summer nights poking her head out that window, looking for what literature had been left in the window box of daisies.

“On the left, she said?” Jeannette looked at Estelle and pointed to the first door on the left. She made for the handle, palm grazing the cool metal when Estelle’s voice cut through the weight like a sharp knife.

“Not that room!” She snapped.

Jeannette would have stepped back if her shoes weren’t prone to wobbling so dangerously. She settled for snatching her hand back from the cold doorknob. Estelle’s fire had subsided but there was no apology, no retraction of her word. Jeannette didn’t offer an apology. She didn’t know what she had done.

“Oh, Jeannette,” Bess said, coming to her rescue. “Not that left. That’s Carrie and...Oh never mind, I’ll show you.”

Jeannette was ushered toward the next door and winced as Bess shouted at the inhabitant. “CONNIE! YOU’VE GOT A LETTER!”

There was a long stretch of silence followed by the snuffling sounds of deep sleep. Jeannette’s prospective roommate seemed to be undisturbed by Bess’s screech while Jeanette’s own ears were still ringing.

“Constance works nights with my roommate, Margaret,” Bess explained, her voice not at all strained by the scream from a moment before. “They are machinists on the aircraft for the Navy. We don’t see them very often.”

The carpet bag was suddenly quite heavy in Jeannette’s hand and tugged on her already aching shoulders. Bess noticed her wince and took pity on her new housemate. “Constance, I’m sorry but I have to turn on the light.”

The dark, peaceful oasis was suddenly illuminated by the light overhead and the lamp on the bedside that Bess mercilessly flicked on. Jeannette glanced around the now visible furniture, that no longer looked like looming creatures from nightmares. An empty bed, a dresser opened to reveal barren drawers, and a desk with the stability of a drunken sailor fresh from sea duty.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite alarm clock,” The lump of blankets that Bess insisted was Constance, said, her voice muffled. “Morning, Beth,”

“Very funny, Constance,” Bess said. “Do you want your letter or not?”

A calloused hand, scarred and rough from the late nights among the heavy machinery and scrabbling over metal carcasses of aircraft, withdrew from the quilts. Bess placed the offering in the waiting palm and, like the jaw of a predator, the hand snapped it up eagerly, drawing back to the safety of the quilts.

“Do you need help unpacking?” Bess asked Jeannette brightly. “I’m an ace at moving. I’ve helped most everyone on the floor. Except Estelle, of course, she’s been here since before the “I” fell.”

Bess was, indeed, an ace at packing and unpacking. This skill had been cultivated long before she had received her first letter, before she had been the smiling waitress at that destined cafe, when she was just Elizabeth Ferguson. Jeannette liked Bess. It was impossible not to. There was something about her short brown hair framing her face and the big brown eyes that made her so endearing and begged to be helpful. Jeannette couldn’t say no.

“If you don’t mind,” She started to say.

“I don’t!” Bess said, snatching up the carpet bag and throwing open the wardrobe on Jeannette’s side of the room.

Jeannette had never known a great abundance of belongings. Most of her life, she had seen this as an embarrassment, to know few and to have few seemed to be a weakness. That was, until she had accepted the translator position in Norfolk and packed up what little she had into a carpet bag. The carpet bag that had housed her pieces from home, her few books, and the clothes that had been worn through all in the name of the war effort, was thrown open. Bessie Ferguson no longer stood in that room, but a whirlwind of limbs, flying clothes, and knick knacks being placed just so.

“Where are you from, again?” Bessie asked, not waiting for a response, before plunging on with the next question. “Your brothers are in North Africa? I have a brother. He’s not fit for service, lucky bastard. Don’t tell Mrs. G that I swore-”

“Beth,” Constance groaned, tossing back the covers. “What time is it?”

“A quarter past four,” Jeannette supplied, glancing at her watch.

“I was hoping to get another hour,” Constance sat up, letter still in hand. She smirked at its contents.

“Another poem?” Bess asked, setting Jeannette’s Shakespeare and Maffei volumes on the teetering desk. “Connie’s beau is something of a poet.”

Constance’s mussed curls bounced as she shook her head at the younger girl’s words. “That’s generous of you, Beth,”

Whether or not the gift of prose was possessed by her pen pal, Constance didn’t seem to mind. Her sea green eyes scanned the page, soaking up every thoughtful word and stumbling line. Her fire was stoked by the glint of steel at night and the scrabble of poems written to the “lady by the sea”. It mattered not that Norfolk was on a river, not the Atlantic, the letters were addressed like that and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like the title.

Constance peeled back the blankets to set free the cat trapped beneath the coverlet, and chuckled at a particularly horrid, if not well meant, line. Her eyes fixed on Jeannette and extended a calloused hand to the newcomer.

“Constance Ramos. You must be Jeannette,”

The redhead nodded, accepting the rough hand in her own and giving it a shake. “I don’t suppose we will be seeing a lot of each other. I’m on the day shift.”

Constance shrugged. “We’ll be like ships in the night. We keep busy around here.”

“Passes the time,” Bess agreed.

“Between letters?” Jeannette guessed.

“We sound crazy about those damn letters, don’t we?” Constance said, chuckling softly. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the wooden floor as she stretched out her aching muscles. “They keep us going, more than a war effort ever could. I can keep bolting sheets of metal when I know my soldier is alive and when I don’t hear from him, it gets heavier. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Jeannette murmured.

Those letters had made a ship to steer among the waves of this new world Jeannette found herself in. Uprooted and unfamiliar, she clung to the letters signed with their scribbled J and the indiscernible followers. The thought of buying that ticket from Pennsylvania to Virginia had been encouraged by the letters in her pocket. If he could be thousands of miles from home for her, she could be transplanted to a new state for the aid of the troops.

Connie glanced over the books on the teetering pile of poetry on the desk as Bess hummed along to some tune. “You like to read?”

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “My mother had mostly Italian books but I have some in English now.”

The English volumes had been collected over the years, from the window box of daisies to the exchanges on the hill overlooking the breaker. The last book, The Grapes of Wrath, had been the final exchange on that hill. He had been given his orders and was only on leave for a few days. He had brought her a book. He had asked if he could write to her. Jeannette had said yes. Jeannette had cried. There had been no romantic declarations or bouts of infatuation. The words had been plain, just how he liked them and how Jeannette despised them.

Bess shut the wardrobe with a snap and turned, her skirt swishing around her knees and damp socks. “You a translator on base?”

Jeannette paused, not sure how much was allowed to be discussed. This attic seemed as safe as could be but what did those posters promise? Ships sunk by the careless whispers of loose lips. Glancing at the window, as if a German spy would be listening from the third floor windowsill, Jeannette nodded quickly.

“Oh you’ll likely see Estelle!” Bess cried. “She’s working as a computer on base.”

Dumbfounded at the disregard for secrecy, Jeannette sputtered. “Shouldn’t we-”

“Who’s going to hear us?” Connie shook her head. “We all know how to keep a secret.”

Bess nodded, setting the now empty carpet bag on the neatly made bed. She hadn’t been kidding about her skills in unpacking. Jeannette had barely had time for a single melancholy notion about the blouse she had worn to the movies with her friends or the books with the coal stained fingerprints. Jeannette hadn’t noticed this room becoming her own but in the space of a few moments, it looked like her childhood bedroom. The quilt was the same, the books were present and accounted for. It looked like home.

“Speaking of secrets,” Bess said, snatching up the patchy tabby cat set free from Connie’s bed and cuddled it tight to her black sweater, not minding the fur shed across the yarn. “Are you going to hide that poem from us, Connie?”

Constance blushed. “Maybe Jeannette can give it an educated read. I’m dying to know if my pen pal has a future in the arts,”

Jeannette flushed. Her hobby of studying beat, meter, and stanza had been an asset to her application for the NIS but she was hardly a professional. Perhaps, more of an avid appreciator. Her love of poetry hadn’t been the final mark in her favor for her application. The real seal to her employment had been the native fluency that having an Italian mother and late father provided.

“I’d be delighted to provide an opinion,” Jeannette smiled, sitting on the lumpy mattress where she would rest her weary bones for the foreseeable future.

Constance cleared her throat, making a big show of unfolding the letter and straightening her flannel pajamas.

“Someday I'll get back to you/ When the war is finally won/Then you know just what we'll do In the sheets-”

The rest was cut off by Bess’s shriek of surprise and a cackling laugh from Constance. Jeannette’s cheeks flushed red but couldn’t help a bark of laughter escaping her mouth, never mind the good and upstanding standard that Grisham ladies were known to uphold.

“Do you all get such poems?” Jeannette wheezed.

Bess’s mouth gaped in shock at such a suggestion, only furthering Constance’s giggles.

“I have never gotten such a thing from-” Bessie started to say but was cut off by the appearance of Estelle in the doorway. Drawn by the laughter and shrieks, her brow furrowed at the neatly put together room but the girls in various states of disarray found there.

“What’s all this then?”

“Another poem,” Bess said. “And no, Jeannette, I don’t get that kind of poetry from Dar-”

“Don’t say their names, Bessie,” Estelle chided, in the same sharp tone. As if Bess had put her handle onto a door she didn’t understand what lay beyond. “You’ll get attached.”

“I’d say it’s too late for that,” Constance said, folding up the letter and stowing it under her pillow. It wasn’t a disagreement but the statement of a fact.

“You say their name and they can break your heart,” Estelle said. It sounded as a warning to Jeannette.

“I don’t think names hold much power over love,” Jeannette whispered, almost to herself but Estelle heard.

Estelle’s calculations were rarely wrong. In mathematics and personal life, her calculations were quite often correct. Estelle was known to be the guardian of the third floor, taking the wandering women under her wing. While Jeannette had seen an angel, Estelle was a self described tragedy. She sought a way to shield each girl who crossed the wooden floors of Grisham Hall from such flights toward the sun.

“We don’t tempt fate here,” Estelle said, firmly.

A silence stretched between them. Estelle’s dark gaze and small stature didn’t lend itself to the imposing figure she truly was. Jeannette didn’t think she was afraid of Estelle. Jeannette didn’t know what she thought. There was a truth behind her words. The war bubbled and boiled around them and one couldn’t make too many plans for the future. Jeannette didn’t like to think more than one letter ahead.

“Estelle is ever so jaded,” Bess said, chuckling softly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Estelle winked at Bess but her steady gaze sent Jeannette’s skin crawling. “We don’t say their names so we don’t have to say goodbye.”

* * *

To the real horatio,

I don’t suppose you can tell me where you are but know that I am safe in Norfolk. Mother will be forwarding any of your letters down to me. The girls I’m living with are quite the characters.

Bess is a little younger than me but such a dear thing. She’s the embodiment of springtime. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as happy as she is. Estelle seems to be the ringleader around here, like Adrian was to us in our childhood. I’m still forming an opinion on her. Constance is my roommate and we’ve gotten on like a house on fire. She works night shifts at the shipyard but when we do see each other it’s always good fun. We went to the cinema last week and saw Citizen Kane on her day off. She’s making songs on the piano out of her boyfriend’s poems. It’s very entertaining and has caused our landlady to faint out of shock more than once. There’s also a girl named Margo who lives on our floor. I haven’t met her for more than a few minutes but she seems lovely.

I’m glad to know that your CO is gone, the dreadful beast.

I’ve started to read the book you gave me. I’d like to read it to you sometime, like we did in high school on the breaker hill. If I sent you one of my books would you read it and think of me?

Your letters, as always, brighten my day. I know you fear that you have nothing of any interest to say but I find anything you say of interest. You say your words are not poetic but there is poetry in everything you do. You want to fly through the sky and end the war. While that’s admirable, do you know that I don’t expect this from you?

I’ve known you without money. I’ve known you without fame or excellence. I don’t care if you have either.

You are probably bothered by my ‘damn flowery words’. We’ve grown up together. Surely you are fluent in my own language by now.

It’s late. I have an early shift tomorrow. Be safe.

Love, Nettie

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers OFC fic #Original female characters #No Ordinary Time #this is no ordinary time folks #jeannette edwards #estelle tran #bessie ferguson #constance ramos #margaret griffin #vera elliot #carrie rose #home fire hestias #hestias of the homefront #grisham hall for ladies #new anthology #one shot series

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cowboy-anon · 3 years

Note

lychee, lemon, papaya, mango, persimmon, kiwi, kumquat, cherry, plum, key lime, pear, grape, strawberry, blueberry, cantaloupe, honeydew, mango, freakin TOMATO…help I can’t stop!! RAISIN! PRUNE! DATE! no, that one’s bad.

🍐🍊🍋🍌🍉🍇🍓🫐🍈🍒🍑🥭🍍🥥🥝🍅

🍏🍎

Oh gosh lol. So many choices! I think we have a few too many red-haired Apple-sonas, at least for now. But Lychee is looking very interesting indeed. :)

For those of you that don’t know, these right here are lychee fruits! The outside is this little spiky shell and when you bite it, it cracks open and the inside is this really soft fruity center (and like a giant seed as you can see lol). It kinda tastes like a pear to me but the internet says it has more of a “tutti fruity” flavor.” It’s just like a really soft flavor in case you were interested xD.

Quick CW: Cuts, bruises, food, mentioned kidnapping, mentioned torture, mentioned recapture, scars, starvation mention, mentioned mouth sewn shut, Stockholm Syndrome, threat of death (not a death threat, more of a looming “this could happen if...”),

But anyway, onto Lychee the Apple-sona!

Introducing Lychee!

Like a lychee fruit, this Apple-sona certainly looks tough on the outside. His hair is bright pink like inside of the lychee shells pictured, he has tiny circular scars above his upper lip and under his bottom lip from when his mouth was sewn shut, exactly twenty-one, and he has a thicker scar that runs from behind his ear to under his right eye. Of course, those are just the ones on his face, not even counting the faint collar of scar tissue and scabbing around his neck and the thousands of cuts and bruises littering the rest of his body.

Said shortly, he looks like he’s been through some things. Which he has, yes. He’s suffered a kidnapping, daily torture, an escape, a recapturing, worse torture, and finally this second escape, which leads him to the back alley of a flower shop in small town far from home—more importantly, far from his torturers.

Lychee w/ the Salesman and Clay

You read that right. Torturers, plural. In this AU, Lychee’s Clay and the salesman work together, and Lychee just happened to be one of two other unlucky victims.

Three years Lychee’s spent with them. Three years of pure sadistic torture. But three years is long enough to teach yourself to pick a lock, and it’s certainly long enough to understand the schedules of your captors well enough to time your escape.

It’s also long enough ti understand that being recaptured a second time is likely not an ordeal Lychee will survive. Hence the flower shop in this small everybody-knows-everybody kind of town, far from the two of them.

Lychee w/ Jimmy

One thing to note about the lychee fruit is that its soft fruity yet somewhat floral flavor means that it pairs quite nicely with other floral flavors, like rose! And Lychee... really likes flowers.

Of course, it’s sheer coincidence that he ends up walking past the flower shop when Jimmy is coming in for work. Jimmy’s walking in with his little lunch box and all of a sudden he just sees this tall, half-starved scarred guy peering around from the back alley. His first instinct is to book it--just run into his store and lock the door behind him and wait until he leaves.

But Jimmy’s a softie, and this guy is just staring. After a little debate, Jimmy lets him inside and hopes he’s made the right choice.

Of course, Lychee walks in and he’s immediately awestruck by the huge assortments of flowers in the little building. And skipping ahead because we’re not trying to write a drabble here (but maybe later 👀), Jimmy’s actually kinda shocked that this guy is into flowers and he’s actually really got an eye for them.

While Lychee gets himself together, Jimmy lets him stay in the back of the shop for a while. He starts bringing lunch enough for two. And then, after a week of suggesting wonderful flower assortments and helping Jimmy get the shop ready in the morning, Jimmy offers him a job.

Lychee is terrified that the salesman and Clay will find him, but the thought of getting to work here, in a flower shop, is just too good a prospect to pass up. He agrees.

And he has a really great time until Clay and the salesman inevitably show up to take him back.

It’s a whole thing. They show up at the flower shop and Lychee freezes up when he sees them, and Jimmy has to take over and then pulls Lychee to the back room when they’re gone and asks what the heck just happened.

And poor Lychee totally breaks down because they’re scared, so very scared, and Jimmy promises to do everything he can do help him.

And then they definitely hug because while I am sometimes merciless, I am also soft for this boy.

Example two of me being a softie, Lychee could totally run far away and Clay and the salesman might never find him again but he can’t not be with Jimmy (wait, do I like them together romantically in this AU?? I might lol) so the two of them are definitely going to figure out a way to keep Lychee from ever going back there. :)

Lychee w/ the Apple-sonas

Lychee’s a little bit more reserved than most of the other Apple-sonas, but he has no problems speaking when he’s spoken to and starting conversations when he really feels like it. He really likes Star Fruit (Peach) because of how passionate he is in particular, and he and Radish actually talk a little, too, although pretty sparsely most times. Almost all the Apple-sonas come to him for flower advice, Coconut being the most reluctant, but Lychee just gathers them all around one night and gives them good, generic advice for putting together a great flower bouquet because he really doesn’t like getting into the specifics of their infatuation with their Clays.

Okay, off topic but I don’t like raisins lol. Like, just be grapes?? I don’t-- Anyway XD.

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joy1579 · 4 years

Text

Mc spoils the RFA + saeran with their perfect bath

guys i love baths. bath bombs, I got a job at bath and body works because i love their products and lush doesn't have a store near me. baths are beautiful wonderful indulgent moments of relaxation and should be treated as sacred and holy times. so here we have MC giving the RFA their perfect bath.

also my master list grows with every new post so be sure to keep an eye on it.

Jumin

- He has been so stressed its affecting his sleep

- So tonight your bound and determined to get him to relax

- He doesn’t usually take baths he’s a shower guy

- His bathtub is HUGE though (mostly because he knows you love baths)

- The water is so hot his skin is a little red but not so hot that hit hurts

- Hot water helps relax the muscles you point out

- you use a bath bomb that colors the water a deep purple with eco safe silver glitter

- it’s scented with cedar wood and lavender oil

- you even dimmed the lights and played cello music to create the optimal relaxation

- he starts soaking as you pour both of you some wine

- he asks you to join him saying that it would be “terribly boring” without you

- you chuckle and slip in with him leaning against his chest

- he tells you about a new cat business

- you tell him about teaching Elizabeth the 3rd to do the obstacle course you and he set up

- you mention that the water looks like the starry night sky and move to kiss him

- he smiles and catches your chin in his hand to deepen the kiss

- he thinks he will indulge in baths more often if you will be joining him like this

Yoosung

- he knows that girls like baths but he’s never really enjoyed them

- he gets antsy if he sits still too long and shows just seem easier

- so you decide to show him the light

- the bathtub at his place isn’t big but you can manage since there isn’t an easy solution

- the water is another problem it doesn’t get hot enough to be relaxing and certainly not hot enough to stay relaxing through the duration of the soak

- so you fill up what you can from the tap and add boiling water to bring the overall temp up

- you have to be really carful to not get it too hot

- you use a light blue bath bomb with gold glitter its shaped like a shooting start and has a tiny toy inside

- you do not tell him about the toy the toy is yours

- its smells like freesia and honey, fresh and lightly sweet

- you play the LOLOL equivalent of the LOZ great fairy fountain music

- he grabs your hand as you go to give him privacy and won’t meet your eyes when he asks you to join him

- you share a bottle of cold cherry flavored sparkling water

- he tells you about the upcoming LOLOL event and you laugh at his animated hand guesturse splashing around

- you give him a bubble beard and when you kiss him you pull away with half the bubbles on your own face

- as great as the bath itself was his favorite part is towel drying your hair because of how messy and super fluffy soft it becomes

Saeyoung

- broski neglects himself when work gets bad

- he can get nasty

- you draw him a bath with the hottest water possible

- you use a bright red bath bomb with black and gold glitter

- it smells exactly like fruit loops

- you also add several rubber duckies (one looks like him and one looks like you)

- you were not planning to join him really

- but he splashes you and I mean you where wet already so when in roam

- you too may or may not play act with the rubber ducky versions of you

- you pour Dr. pepper into those plastic fake champagne flutes and toast to honey buddah chips

- you have to ban honey buddah chips from the bath

- you share memes on each other’s phones

- and play soft 8-bit music as background noise

- you wash his hair and hum a lullaby

- he tries not to get sentimental about a childhood he never had

- but you can tell he’s getting a bit sad so you squish his face and say “my name is Saeyoung and I deserve love” you have him repeat after you while his face is squished until his laughing again

- you wrap his hair in a towel hat then laugh when he forgets and his hair dries all crazy

- bath time becomes a really happy routine for you too

Zen

- he is familiar with baths they are good for your skin every once in a while

- he’s read all about the benefits, the pros and cons, what to add what to steer clear of

- he insists warm not hot water “zen hot water feels the best” “it can irritate our skin jagi!”

- you concede because he’s basically a human furnace anyway

- you choose a dye and glitter free bath bomb

- but it does have seaweed extract, coconut oil, and Epsom salt

- it smells like rose, lemongrass, and mahogany

- he puts his hair in a bun to wash separately (what’s good for skin isn’t always good for hair)

- you both do face masks during the soak and there’s something you really enjoy about seeing him in a face mask

- it’s one of the few times he looks genuinely silly

- you talk about the new part he just got and he admits he’s nervous

- “it’s a romance Jagi what if I can’t act it properly because I’m too busy thinking about you?”

- he either drinks bear or lemon cucumber water depending on if he has an audition tomorrow

- if he drinks beer he shares the can with you since he’s trying to cut back for you

- if it’s the lemon cucumber water absolutely runs the bottom of the ice cold glass against your neck to see you shiver and shudder

- but then you wiggle against him and he’s starting to have a hard time controlling the beast

Jaehee

- this girl needs a tropical vacation bad

- but since you don’t have the money or time you decide a staycation will do

- bath water is hot enough to steam but you give it time to cool a bit before she gets in

- you use and orange, yellow bath bomb with gold glitter that looks like the sunrise

- it smells like guava and mandarin to give it a tropical feel

- you play ocean sounds and quiet ukulele music

- you make chamomile and lemongrass ice tea sweetened with honey

- she chats idly about all the benefits of such a drink and debates whether to add it to the café menu or not

- you can’t help but chuckle at her workaholic nature as you turn to kiss the tip of her nose

- you even move a laptop with its webcam covered because everything with the RFA hacker has made y’all hyper aware of the vulnerability of technology

- to the bathroom counter so you can watch Zen DVD’s while you relax

- afterwards you paint her nails and discuss new cakes for the café

- she’ll admit it’s no trip to Hawaii but it was very relaxing

Saeran

- boy refuses to admit he needs some serious TLC

- but you coax him in if you say you want to share a bath with him

- you bring fresh flowers into the bathroom and make sure everything is perfect

- you use a deep red bath bomb with black glitter

- its shaped like a skull and he enjoys watching it fizz and bubble before you two get in

- it smells like a bouquet of gardenias, roses, and lilies

- you play nature sounds with gentle harp music

- you make sweet hibiscus tea to share with him

- he tells you about his latest therapy appointment and you ask him idle questions

- “did you end up planting all the tulips?”

- “maybe we should build a bird house! Or install a flower box on the window sill!”

- “are you gonna dye your hair again? Or let it grow naturally?”

- A lot of your conversations used to be one sided since he was so unused to make his own decisions

- So conversations where you gently guide him to find his own ideas are helpful

- Especially in safe and relaxing environment like this.

- “I think I’d like to keep it bleached until it grows out” he says cautiously

- “I think when it grows out on its own it’ll feel like the last of mint eye being washed away, and I hope I’ll be better by then. I hope you’ll stay with me until then.”

- “always and forever” you assure him kissing his cheek and giggling at his light blush

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper

Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.

"Grrr...ow!"

His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.

He wasn't having a good day.

Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.

First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.

Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.

They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.

And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.

"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.

Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.

But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.

The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.

Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.

Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.

Oh, how he hated lectures.

He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.

He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.

Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.

Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.

He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.

But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.

Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.

He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.

He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.

Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there. He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.

Nothing.

Varian had had it.

He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.

It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.

If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.

His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.

He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.

He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.

"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.

"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.

"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.

"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.

"Okay…......how?"

Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.

He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.

"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.

"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.

"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"

He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.

"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."

Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."

He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.

"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.

Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."

"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.

"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."

Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."

She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."

"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.

"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.

"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.

Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.

"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.

"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"

"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."

"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.

"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.

"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"

"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."

Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.

"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."

Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."

She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"

"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"

Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."

Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.

"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."

He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.

"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.

"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."

"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."

Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."

"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.

Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."

"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."

"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.

Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.

Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."

#varian #Honey lemon #Fred Frederickson IV #big hero 6 #bh6 #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #BH6 the series

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yetremains · 3 years

Text

“...”

“Well damn, alright.” Yang downed the rest of her tea quickly, before gasping for a breath as she shoved her cup away.

“Lightning round, lets go!”

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

“It was in my young teen years, 15 I think. I’d been dating that individual for a couple weeks before they abruptly decided to kiss me then and there. We’d been dancing around the subject for a while. It wasn’t spicy or romantic, merely spur of the moment. Was sweet though. The year after that we had broke up and remained friends for a while until we lost contact.”

french vanilla: how old are you?

“You shouldn’t ask someone their age when they been through shit. Too god damn old is the best answer if you must know. I’m older than 28, trust me. Don’t let looks fool you. But hey, I’m getting even older come December 25th!”

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

“Do places long gone count? Can I say Home? Nah probably not. So three places let’s see... Japan, China, Romania. The actual places not whatever anything makes them out to be.”

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

“I know a damn lot of languages actually. Sometimes it’s hard to think of the right words to say because of this, knowing so many. It’s one reason I’m so odd with my way of speaking. However, I would not mind learning some dead languages. If that doesn’t count, then... Persian?”

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

“Ah hell. I mean, I’m not much of a cosmetic expert here. I work with whatever I really need for a music show or for just every day. I could say L’Oreal because I’m worth it joke but that seems in bad taste. If I was using cosmetics just for the enjoyment or to look special, I just try and get whatever works for me.”

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

“Answered this one~!”

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

“Plenty. I’ve decided to learn a few different ones so I can mix together my own music needs of demands arise for it. But I really enjoy stringed instruments or wind instruments. I carry a small harmonica or Ryūteki in my packs.”

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

“Not easy to give an answer for, I’ve got a really broad taste. But I’m thinking something with a heavier beat at the moment-”

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

“Oh come on this makes it harder. As I said, broad taste. I can find enjoyment in many kinds of music and lyrics. Can’t exactly answer a favorite song for life here.”

cheesecake: what’s your zodiac sign?

“Which zodiac are we talking here? There are a lot out there. But the first one into my head is Capricorn. I am on the 25th of December.”

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

“As nice as the ocean can be, fuck the ocean. I’ll enjoy the coast line just fine but you won’t catch me swimming that far out in it. There is damn good reason why I don’t like the ocean much anymore. I’ll relax in a pool or a lake or river, thank you.”

chocolate chip: what’s your most popular post?

“Good question. I’ve made a few social media posts that exploded. But that’s probably not fair considering the music I do. I think my most popular is from years ago when I spray painted a statue of a certain someone to look like a baboon.”

bubblegum: books or movies?

“Both! Why choose? I enjoy both quite a bit. and besides, Books can always be there no matter what. And can hold so much valuable information depending what you are reading.”

pistachio: manga or anime?

“... Both again? But I prefer novels. This is more a guilty pleasure.”

salted caramel: favorite movies?

“I can’t remember the last movie I watched, if I’m honest, let alone a favorite movie.”

birthday cake: favorite books?

“Hmmm. Hard one. I enjoy the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe? There is Shōgun. The Mark of Zorro, Sherlock Holmes, Bram Stoker Dracula... There’s several.”

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

“Not exactly applicable, I don’t remember the name of any I like when I was young.”

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

“The same as above. Wow I am old... I should really get in touch with these things again.”

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

“Hah, I loved science and history. A damn lot really. I’ve used both to really help my self along and it’s come in handy. My need for knowledge had me spend a lot of time researching.”

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

“I’ve not had any pets since I was a rookie. Never had the time to truly care for one, and now with a hectic life, I’m not gonna do that to an animal.”

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

“Suppose just to exist and have something to do between pit stops.”

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

“It is torn between two for me. A nice warm day, clear, maybe with a gentle breeze. Some clouds above, and calm. That’s the ideal outing day... But, I suppose due to my birthday, I can enjoy a soft snow coming down,some snow on the ground, watching through a window with tea in hand while bundled up and warm. Much prefer clear day though.”

black cherry: four words that describe you?

“Now that’s just not fair. Let me think... Loyal, Determined, Caring, Protective.”

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

“Being reminded of my failings and those I’ve lost... the people I’ve hurt... Thinking about friends I wish I was closer too but too fearful to be that close. Hm. I can also be stressed out by far too much stimulation for my brain at once that it can spin my gears way too quickly.”

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

“Again, broad tastes. But depending on my mood or feelings, it changes what my favorite kind of music can be. But I will always enjoy something gentle and calming.”

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

“I’ve always been partial to chocolates, or cream items.”

toffee: a card game that you’re good at?

“Ever hear of a game called Egyptian Rat Race? Also known as Egyptian Rat Screw, dunno why of course. I learned this game when I was a kid. 52 card deck, deal to each player until the deck is entirely used and everyone has a pile face down. Starting to the left of the dealer players pull the top card off their pile and place it face-up in the middle. If the card played is a number card, the next player puts down a card, too. This continues around the table until somebody puts down a face card or an Ace. When a face card or an ace is played, the next person in the sequence must play another face card or an ace in order for play to continue.If the next person in the sequence does not play a face card or an ace within their allotted chance, the person who played the last face card or an ace wins the round and the whole pile goes to them. The winner begins the next round of play.“

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

“Uh... Admittedly not often. With my metabolism problem I absolutely should, considering the demanding needs. I just can’t always bring my self to do so, the will for it isn’t there. I do snack though.”

dark chocolate: turn ons?

“Ooohh boy... Now this one has me turning a bit red here. I mean there is biting and tight holds, the usual stuff. But... I’m not gonna list a lot here, a turn on can be blindfolding me if I trust my partner enough.”

fudge: turn offs?

“Being an asshole, for one.”

peach: how do you relax?

“A nice cup of tea, maybe some soft music, and let my mind unwind a little. That’s if I’m alone. Otherwise a gentle conversation with a friend about small things... Once upon a time long ago I would have said long hugs or cuddling. Not an option these days.”

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet?

“I’ve not read The Golden Compass, that has been on my to do list.”

superman: do you like sweaters?

“Weird how this one is with sweaters... but yeah I can enjoy sweaters in the right weather. They can be soft and warm, comfy. Great for cold days.”

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

“I drink both actually. But if I have the option for a good tea I’m going to take it without hesitation. Yet the spark of energy from Coffee can’t be denied.”

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

“Without a doubt, Taisho-goto. Have you seen one of those? It’s so intricate and amazing, and can sound wonderful. It can be used to play all sorts of things. Fascinates me that the item was half inspired by a typewriter.”

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

“Oh a few times actually. It’s been a good long while now since I’ve gone that far, but it’s come close. But once upon a time this has happened!”

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

“To Become A Functioning Website.”

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

“Now that’s just kissing and telling...” (( I’d also have to tag and dont wanna spam. ))

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

“Oddly specific, but... Variations of ‘One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome.’. “

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

“Uh, natural and colorless? I’ve not painted my nails in a while.”

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

“I have yes.”

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

“Again, yes. We’re not gonna go into this can of worms.”

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

“Sometimes. There comes the occasion when one does get exhausted and needs a damn nap.”

mint: the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

“Get way too flustered and accidentally admit I liked someone.”

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

“Completely! You say we’re going to get Sushi and you have my full attention.”

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

“Home unfortunately.”

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

“Nope! I’m thankful for that, but one day I have no doubt that’s going to change.”

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

“Mochi green tea, chocolate chip mint, red bean, Strawberry shortcake... Gelato raspberry or orange cream.”

#About Yang #Headcanon #(( THERE I DID IT. ALL THE ICE CREAMS ))#(( this was exhausting on the hands and brain i died. ))#(( but also did my best ))

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thesimperiuscurse · 4 years

Note

FINE. All of them for EVA. Jerk

NO U. aight i’m gonna answer these for the start of chapter 6, two weeks from the end of chapter 5.

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

ready to kick ass, make the most of her work day, determined for upcoming regionals and exams. nothing is yet to trouble her.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

the faces of her family. they are what she loves most in the world.

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

in winter, her mom makes rich and creamy soups with veggies from the garden. pair that with soft buns fresh from the oven, and it’s guaranteed to comfort eva on the coldest and dreariest days.

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

classic justin timberlake songs, like cry me a river.

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

just yesterday i found a new one for eva, an electronic artist named kloud. there’s one song in particular, humans, the lyrics and intense beat of which she’s super vibing with.

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

the family villa in malibu. cherry and gabriel made sure to raise their children in a happy, secure, peaceful home. no repeat of their own turbulent and traumatic childhoods.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

again, her family.

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

eva doesn’t have a best friend. all the people she’s really close to are members of her family. she’s always been far too ballet-focused to maintain deep relationships with anyone outside of her family. however, she’s now growing very comfortable with sasha, piper, misha, and mako. they’re all quite bantery with each other.

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

summer. always.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

her day off is sunday. currently — she wakes up at 8:30, has a slow breakfast with piper in the cafe, checks in with the academy physiotherapist at 11:00, and the rest of the day is loosely scheduled for gym, procrastinating maths homework, kickboxing, visiting family, playing her guitar, or watching netflix.

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

she has a super strong support system in all her family members, but her mom in particular. cherry is always checking up by call whether her daughter is happy and healthy.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

slow mornings. eva can’t wake up before eight, and if she’s forced to, she’ll get cranky. she wakes up when the sun does.

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

not binging, but she’s slowly working through sex education on netflix.

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

right-brained. she can’t analyse for shit, unless she’s working something out using empathy and emotional intelligence. like misha, in that sense.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

she’s not one to enjoy the silent purity of art galleries. she prefers to explore nature and breathe in the ever-changing beauty of the earth. the sight of the sea always brings her peace.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

probably a dumb but very cute and energetic dog.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

scottish? she finds limmy’s show hilarious.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

for summer boyfriends: hot surfer boys, tall and athletic, that have a big smile and laugh, laidback yet adventurous, sunkissed with messy sea-salted hair. in other words, mako ain’t it. for a significant other: she hasn’t thought about it. a serious romantic relationship is not in her interest for now.

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

no crushes. or at least, she hasn’t realised she has one yet. hehe.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

eva doesn’t actually go on proper dates. she can’t be bothered with awkward conversations and formalities. she might grab an icecream with a guy, surf and play sports, or go to a bonfire beach party together.

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

hook up with him, i guess.

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

if it isn’t clear by now, eva gives absolutely zero fucks about traditions or ‘rules’ around dating. her relationships are in friend-with-benefits territory, and she goes straight for what she wants.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

the family puppy, senor papperino. her siblings send her a million pictures of him as he grows up. a bittersweet joy.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

her cousin amaya is getting married to amir next year, a spring wedding in the sonoran desert. eva’s helping her with the planning and dress design, which lilith is to create.

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

a simple beach house, warm with natural light, that sits gently in nature. small, because her time spent inside is minimal. she really isn’t impressed with flashy luxuries.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

a place right by the beach. she loves malibu and would want to stay close to her family.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

honestly, ‘settling down’ is something she’s barely thought about. she’s going to dance professionally as long as she can, maybe become a teacher like darcy, and explore her other passions, like surfing and environmental conservation. the traditional concept of marrying then having children is one that she feels may happen to her naturally, rather than she HAS to settle down at a specific point in her life. it’s just not on her priority list.

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

the most beautiful place in the world in eva’s mind is the garden at her family home, which blooms with dandelion clocks in summer, full of fruit trees, and is right by her favourite beach. her happiest childhood memories lie there.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

at the moment, eva’s always in a good mood, because she’s in a place where she’s working at her greatest passion everyday. she’s friends with mako now, so the only person that could really put her in a bad mood is vicky.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

she can’t remember any of her dreams.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each?

since eva doesn’t really care about getting married, that hasn’t crossed her mind. she already has a broad, loving, ‘dream’ family, and her siblings are bound to have kids, so she doesn’t feel any pressure. she would be perfectly happy spending time with her nieces/nephews instead. a cute dog is a definite, though, probably another golden retriever.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

evangeline’s named after one of the strongest women in her life. she’s proud to have inherited the name, and hopes to live up to it.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

grapefruit, sea salt.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

she’s a coffee person, but in summer, her mom likes to brew iced tea with fruits and herbs from the garden, which eva loves.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

lots of citrus trees. plants that can grow wild and thrive on their own.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

i can picture eva vlogging, but in reality she’s too busy dancing for that shit. she prefers to live her life off screen, grounded in her reality.

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

“jacked as fuck”

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

a field of tiny wildflowers on the dry coastal hills of malibu. the sun is burning bright, the sea is crashing against the beaches below, the wind is pulling wild at her hair.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

eva’s always striving to be more than just comfortable. her ambition means she’s already achieved an impressive amount in life, and she’s happy with how she’s moving along, but she’s forever shooting for the stars.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

she can’t afford to travel at the moment but hawaii, spain, greece.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

a tiny bit of spanish, korean, and german from gabriel, but nowhere near fluently. she would like to improve her skills in those languages if she has the time.

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

eva isn’t bookish. she just can’t sit still long enough. when she was a kid, she did love the magic slipper series, written by one of the prima ballerinas she idolises.

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

her calculus textbook. she wants to set it on fire.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

she likes cheesy 90s era movies. she’s the man always makes her laugh.

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

an ice bath and self massage for her legs, if pointe work is particularly intense, treat any new blisters or bleeding on her feet. typical ballet things.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

eva is always mindful to drink eight cups of water per day.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

amaya. she listens coolly, and provides helpful commentary. a few weeks ago, eva vented to her about mako and how much of an ‘arrogant ass’ her partner is. after she finished letting off steam, amaya asked her what the exact reasons for disliking him were, which helped eva realise her own stubbornness, haha.

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

perfect surf waves, a hug from her parents, adding a new piece of jewellery to her minimal gold collection, warm sunny weather, camping with her siblings.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

she’s received a lot of ‘you’re pretty’ type compliments from guys over the years, but what makes her happiest is compliments about her dancing, particularly from professionals.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

summer beach chick, relaxed shades of sea blue and white froth, minimalist, with a rough edge.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

nah i’m too lazy to open the game at the moment. anyway, eva doesn’t really take selfies by herself, since she’s not that active on social media.

#wow this took ages #thanks jade #evangelinekingston #genfour #characterask

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im-a-star-boy · 4 years

Text

Charity Gala

Another parksborn fic!!! Yes I know I need a new fandom!!! Will I search for one? Absolutely not!!!!!

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Summary: Peter Parker-Stark, the adopted son of Tony Stark, is brought to his first Charity Galaand he doesn’t enjoy it. But things manage to take a turn for the better when he meets another boy, named Harry.

Word Count: 8,446

Date Of Completion: Thursday, January 9th, 2020 (First fic of the New Decade my guys!!!)

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Peter tightened the tie around his neck. “Is this really necessary, Dad?” He called from the bathroom.

Tony Stark stepped into the bathroom and scoffed at the sloppy bowtie, before stepping over to straighten. “Yes, it is Pete. I know it sucks, but we gotta keep up appearances and you,” He emphasized by tapping his nose lightly, “need the experience.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen galas before though, Dad! They’re really boring.”

“You’ve seen them but you’ve never been to one.�� He chided lightly before stepping back.

He analyzed his handiwork on the bowtie before smiling in satisfaction. “Trust me kid, it isn’t that bad.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

It was that bad. It was so definitely that bad. All the smells, sounds, and sights collided at once, giving Peter a massive headache. Pepper had noticed his suffering and had guided him over to the bar and ordered him an iced lemon water. He had very much appreciated it as he laid back and watched the party continue. There wasn’t much going on, just investors talking to one another. After a moment, a young man approached him. He may have been young, but he was in his late 20’s at best. “Hello there young man, you’re Tony Stark’s kid, right?” He greeted happily.

Peter internally cringed before nodding. “Uhh, yeah? Who’re you?”

The man perked up. “I’m Gaige Thomas, I’m with Perkinson’s, we were hoping to speak to your father if-”

“I don’t know where my dad is. If you wanna talk to him, go find him yourself.” Peter muttered, turning away from him.

“Excuse me?” He forcefully turned Peter’s chair around. “You need to-”

“Hey, screw off!” An unfamiliar voice snapped.

Peter looked up to see a somewhat familiar figure. It was a young boy, around his age. He was tall, black haired, blue eyed, somewhat muscular, definitely good looking. Peter watched as the boy stood in front of him, staring dangerously at Mr. Thomas. The man hesitated before scowling and turned around and walked away. “You okay?” The boy asked, turning to him.

Peter felt his face flush slightly, before he nodded. “Um, yeah. Yeah I’m- I’m okay. Are- are you? Are you okay? I’m- I mean-”

The boy laughed. “I’m fine. That Thomas is a sketchy guy, kind of an asshole. Sorry about him.”

Peter shrugged. “He’s the one being an ass, not you. Thank you.”

The boy sat down beside him. “You’re welcome. I’m Harry.” He said, extending his hand.

Peter smiled. “I’m Peter.” He replied, shaking his hand happily.

Harry grinned. “Two shirley temples, please!” He called to the bartender.

The bartender smiled and nodded, pouring two with an amused grin. He tossed the drinks to them. Harry smiled as he took a sip. “So what’s a cutie like you doing here?” He asked, an amused look on his face.

Peter turned bright red and scooted backwards slightly. “UM-! I-I came here with my dad actually, what about you?”

“Same here.” He replied, an amused look crossing his face.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking the shirley temples. “So what’s your dad do?” Harry asked, finally breaking the silence.

Peter looked up. “Science stuff, mechanical engineering and all that jazz.”

Harry nodded. “Same here. Do you like doing that stuff?” He asked.

Peter nodded. “I like engineering and chemistry, but my favorite is definitely biology. There’s so much that we’re capable of if we figure out how to use our bodies to their full potential. Like being athletic! The only reason people are more athletic, faster runners, stronger physically, is because of their mitochondria count. Cells have thousands of mitochondria- people really underestimate how much is actually packed into our tiny cells. But the more mitochondria you have, the more your body can handle, think of them like batteries! Hundreds of batteries, more power to your device, hundreds of mitochondria, more power to your cells, you know?”

Harry chuckled at his rant. “Yeah, I get it. You’re really into this stuff.” He chuckled.

Peter shrugged. “It’s mostly because of-” He paused for a moment before shrugging. “Nevermind. What about you? Do you like doing this stuff?”

Harry hesitated. “I like engineering, that’s fun to say the least. But I’m always reaching a goal I don’t think I’ll ever achieve.”

Peter laughed gently. “Well you won't get there with that attitude. Keep your head up and you’ll get there eventually!” He encouraged.

Harry smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

Peter grinned. “No problem.”

The two sat in silence again for a moment before Peter straightened up. “So what do you like? Other than work stuff and all that.”

He hummed for a moment. “I like milkshakes.”

“Oh my god you’re lame! What shows, movies, video games, ANYTHING!” Peter shouted playfully.

Harry laughed loudly as Peter sipped his drink. “Okay, well how about this. I like Star Wars.”

“There we go! Progress! I do too.” Peter replied firmly. “What else?”

Harry put his hands up in surrender before humming. “I like musicals, and most of the books by Rick Riordan.”

Peter straightened up. “Have you read the Red Pyramid?”

“Duh, that’s one of my favorites.”

Peter grinned. “I started reading that one a while ago but I haven’t finished it.”

“Have you been to Cup of Joe?” He asked curiously.

Peter shook his head. “No, what is it?”

“It’s a nice coffee shop and lounge. One of those places that has a library in it- god what’re they called-”

Peter shrugged. “A college dorm?”

“Hardy har, they have an actual name, I just cant remember it.” Harry replied sarcastically.

Peter laughed for a moment. “But yeah no, why do you ask? If I’ve been to Cup of Joe?”

“I hang out there a lot. Its a nice cafe, they have good food and drinks.” Harry explained. “I go there to relax for the most part.”

Peter hummed. “Sounds nice there. Maybe I’ll have to hijack your days off.” He joked.

Harry laughed. “I don’t have a problem with that, you’re cute.”

Peter blushed again. “Well you aren’t half bad looking yourself, Harry.” Peter attempted.

Harry made a face before grinning, as the bartender approached. “Refills?” He offered.

“Yes please!” The two replied in unison, before looking at each other and laughing.

The bartender laughed and refilled their drinks. He stopped as he looked at the cherry jar. Most of the juice was out but a few cherries remained. He shrugged and looked at Peter. “Want them?”

Peter nodded excitedly as the bartender laughed and dumped them into his drink. Peter happily reached for a toothpick and stabbed at one, putting it in his mouth happily. “I love maraschino cherries.” He said happily.

Harry laughed as Peter stabbed another one. He pulled the toothpick out with a happy smile. Harry grabbed his hand, catching him off guard, before biting the cherry off the toothpick with a grin. Peter’s face turned red as Harry moved backwards. “Hey, you got all the cherries, you gotta share.” He teased.

Peter flushed and turned away, looking into his drink red-faced. Harry chuckled. “Hey, whaddya say we ditch?”

Peter’s eyes widened as his head snapped up. “W-what?!”

“Oh come on, it’s okay. I ditch these things all the time, nothing bad will happen.” He promised.

Peter stared at him wide-eyed. “Wh- but- my dad, he’ll-”

“Relax. If he gets mad you can blame me. Come on, if you come with me you won’t regret it.” Harry said, a grin crossing his face.

Peter hesitated for a moment before sighing loudly. “Let me finish my drink.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Peter hesitated at the doors. Harry stood outside in the crisp autumn air. He had a massive grin on his face and was staring at Peter. “It’s now or never, Pete.”

Peter hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and following Harry out. “It’s now or never.”

Harry grinned and took Peter’s hand. “Are you ready for the night of your life?” He asked, a smirk crossing his face.

Peter felt his face turn red. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. But let’s start with ice cream.” Harry said, pulling him along.

Peter yelped, but followed after Harry with a loud laugh. “Wait up!”

He ran down the streets, racing Harry to the nearest subway stop before nearly falling down the stairs in an attempt to get to the station before Harry. He laughed loudly and leaned against a pillar, catching his breath. Harry was wheezing beside him, holding his sides and gasping for air as he attempted to recollect himself. Peter gasped and sat up straight. “Oh my god that- that was- that was fun.”

Harry laughed. “And the night is just beginning!”

Peter grinned at the taller boy before taking a deep breath as the next subway pulled up. “Come on.” Harry called, stepping onto the subway.

“What? Where’s it going?” Peter asked, running after him.

Harry shrugged. “Haven’t you listened to don’t stop believing? Midnight train going anywhere baby!” He shouted.

Peter laughed, somewhat in hysterics. “You’re kidding! We’re just on a random train?! This thing could be going to Jersey!”

Before Peter could get off, the doors closed, locking them in. “Then we’ll screw around in Jersey Peter, it’ll be fine.” He replied firmly.

Peter stared at him for a moment. “God you’re insane!”

Harry laughed and sat down, motioning for Peter to follow suit. “Who’s your dad anyway?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What caused a question like that?”

“Well he must be a stickler to give you this much anxiety.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s Tony Stark.”

Peter watched as Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh shit.” He said aloud.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh fuck well this just became much more complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, feeling a bit of anxiety.

Harry laughed awkwardly. “My dad’s Norman Osborn.”

Peter froze for a moment before he began to laugh. “Oh my god we are so fucked!”

Harry began laughing as Peter ran his fingers through his hair. “If this is gonna be the last night of our lives, we may as well make it a good one!” Harry yelled decisively as he stood up.

Peter smiled. “I vote ice cream.”

Harry nodded while grinning. Peter stopped for a moment before realizing where he recognized Harry from. Magazines, posters, billboards, news articles, how had he not recognized him before?! He shook his head, deciding not to think about it too hard, before turning to the attractive Osborn beside him. He was much more different than Peter expected him to be. He watched him quietly, before turning to his phone and idley scrolling through Instagram. He wondered if his dad was looking for him, or maybe Pepper. He silently debated on calling her, until the subway came to a stop and Harry spoke. “Come on, let’s see where we ended up.”

Peter looked up to see Harry standing in front of him, with his arm extended, and a grin still plastered on his face. “You don’t ever stop grinning, do you Osborn?” He asked amused, taking his hand.

Harry pulled him up. “Not when I have someone to impress.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed that you have enough confidence to ditch like this. I’ve heard your dad’s a bit of a… control freak.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t mind if I ditch so long as I show my face a bit and don’t cause trouble.”

Peter stared at him as the taller led him off the subway. “Doesn’t he worry? It doesn’t look like you have an escort or bodyguard. Doesn’t he worry that you’ll get hurt?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at him, a curious look on his face, before he let out a sigh. “Like I said, he doesn’t care so long as I don’t do anything stupid.”

Peter frowned. “Sounds like he doesn’t care too much.” He mumbled.

Harry turned and gave him a hard glare. Peter put his hands up in surrender. “Woah- I-I didn’t mean to offend you- I just-”

“It’s okay. I get where you’re coming from.” Harry interrupted.

Peter hesitated but nodded. “Okay…”

Harry stopped at the entrance of the subway and pulled out his phone. “Hey siri, directions to the nearest ice cream shop.” He said into the mic, changing the subject.

His phone dinged, before directions appeared. “Hey we’re close to one!” Peter yelped, looking over his shoulder at his phone.

Harry laughed slightly. “And see? We haven’t even left Manhattan.” Harry replied.

Peter stuck his tongue out playfully, before looking at the time. It was 10:30. “Is the ice cream shop even open?” He asked.

Harry nodded. “Yep, one of those late night date places from the looks of it.”

Peter flushed slightly at the idea. It was a date place? He shook off his blush and smiled. “Sounds good!”

The walk there was comfortable, the two telling jokes on the way there and making fun of the names of some businesses. Peter walked aimlessly, rambling on about Star Wars, when Harry grabbed his collar. “We’re here.”

Peter looked up to see a large colorful building with the name “Scoops of Love” plastered onto the front. “Oh.”

Harry chuckled and opened the door for him. “Cuties first.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at the flirt. “Then shouldn’t you be going in?” He attempted.

Harry laughed, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “Wow that was awful.”

When he didn’t budge, Peter rolled his eyes and gave in at the prospects of ice cream. He stepped into the building. It was comfortable, not hot but not cold either, there was a display case with several different flavors of ice cream in tubs. There were booths along the sides of the building and a few two seated tables here and there. There were two girls in the corner chatting, their fingers intertwined as the talked quietly, and a boy and a girl sitting on the other side of the shop. The boy’s eyes were red and he looked like he was holding back tears as the girl comforted him quietly. Harry stepped up to the counter looking at the different ice creams. “C��mon, Pete.” He called softly.

Peter looked up and followed quickly, standing beside Harry wide-eyed. He looked at all the different flavors as Harry made his decision quickly. “I’ll get a bowl of vanilla and carmel please.” He requested politely.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Way to pick the lamest option.”

Harry laughed and nudged him gently. “It tastes good!” He defended.

Peter put his hands up in surrender, before looking back at the options. “Can I get a bowl of chocolate fudge please?” He asked, reaching into his back pocket.

The woman nodded. “Of course, what size?”

“Large.” Both boys replied in unison. They exchanged surprised looks, before chuckling.

Peter pulled out his wallet and began opening it when Harry grabbed his hands. “Stop, I brought you here, I’m paying.” He said, fishing his own wallet out of his pocket.

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Harry grabbed his wallet and held it over his head as he attempted to fish his debit card out of his own wallet one handed. “Harry!” Peter yelped, jumping up to grab it.

Harry laughed and took a step back. “I’m paying!” He shouted, grabbing his card with his teeth. “Back off!” His shout was muffled as he dropped the card onto the table. “Scan!” He shouted quickly, as he began playing a game of keep-away with Peter’s wallet.

The cashier laughed and quickly scanned his card. When the deed was done, Harry returned Peter’s wallet. “Was that so hard?”

Peter glared at him. “You’re a bad person.”

“All this over what, $20? $10?”

“$15.” The woman cut it, an amused look on her face.

“See? You’re losing your mind over $15. Both of our dads are literal billionaires. Relax.” Harry teased, poking his nose lightly.

Peter moved his head back and barely refrained from hissing at Harry. Instead, he made an irritated face and turned away. “You’re a bad person. A very bad person.” He repeated, a pout on his face.

Harry laughed as the woman handed handed him a receipt and began working on their bowls of ice cream. The two watched quietly as she scooped swiftly, and handed them each the bowl and a spoon. “Caramel Vanilla and Chocolate Fudge.” She said happily.

Peter smiled as he took the styrofoam bowl of chocolate ice cream from the woman's hands. “Thank you!” He replied.

Harry took his bowl and led Peter to a booth beside the windows. The two slid into opposite sides of the booth and grinned. Peter immediately took a spoonful happily. Harry watched amused as Peter dropped his spoon back into the bowl and made a face before swallowing. “Goddamn this is good.” He said, taking in another spoonful.

Harry chuckled gently. “This place has four stars so I’m glad to see it lives up to its reputation.” He acknowledged.

Peter nodded. “I think that review is missing a star.” He snorted, taking another bite.

Harry laughed and began enjoying his own ice cream. Peter sucked in air to say something, but began coughing as he inhaled some ice cream in his mouth. Harry watched him, beginning to panic slightly as Peter coughed loudly and began laughing. "Too much air-"

Harry laughed as Peter leaned back and coughed again, before he cleared his throat. "Are you okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, just dying."

Harry chuckled before smiling. "Hey, if we're gonna keep in touch we should exchange numbers." He sneered.

After a moment of recovering, Peter looked up. "Do, ahem. Do you think that's a good idea? What with our fathers' feud?"

Harry shrugged. "Who said our dads would know?"

"What if they search our phones?"

Harry watched him. "Does your dad search your phone?"

Peter shrugged. "Not really but sometimes. Yeah every now and then…"

Harry frowned. "That's not cool." He replied.

Peter looked at him. "He just does it because he's overprotective."

"Still that's not okay." He repeated.

Peter hesitated and turned away, before looking up. "I mean… maybe. But still I-"

"Let's, let's just forget that for a minute… If your dad catches you it'll be okay. He won't, he wouldn't hurt you, right?" He asked.

Peter stopped and stared at him wide-eyed. "What?! No! Never!" He yelped.

Harry nodded. "Okay that's good, I got worried for a second."

Peter shook his head. "Yeah no, dad would never hurt me." He promised.

Harry nodded quietly as Peter gave him a hesitant look. "Your… your father doesn't hurt you? Does he?" Peter asked quietly.

Harry hesitated but shook his head. "No, I wouldn't say that."

Peter watched him carefully. "He… does he say things?"

Harry didn't reply, but took a spoonful of ice cream. Peter took that as his answer. He stayed silent as he shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. After a few moments of somewhat uncomfortable silence, Peter sat up. "Let's go to Central Park."

Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"I've heard Central Park is beautiful at night. Dangerous, but pretty. I can defend us if we get mugged." Peter ranted happily.

Harry laughed, thankful for the change in subject. "You? Defend us? Sorry babe but if you're our only defense, we're gonna die."

Peter laughed, ignoring the comment, and raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not much what with your size.” He teased.

Peter felt the hairs on his neck raise and a part of him wanted to punt Harry just to prove a point. “You wanna throw hands, Osborn?” He threatened playfully.

Harry chuckled. “I’ll take you on, Stark.” He sneered.

The two boys laughed, an unusual comfort rolling over them. The joking, it was like they’ve known each other forever and they’ve only just met. It didn’t take Harry long to realize it was because they were treating each other like normal human beings, and not the kids of billionaires. If they had started with the godawful formalities, or introduced by their parents, Harry was certain they wouldn’t get along like this. Harry didn’t think about all the times he’d heard his father cursing Stark’s name for whatever reason, and Peter didn’t think about all the times he’d heard his dad complaining about Norman’s manipulative behavior. Right then, it was just the two of them laughing, and enjoying an ice cream together.

Harry looked up to see Peter grinning at him. “Well, come on! These ice creams are in styrofoam bowls, plastic spoons, we already paid, lets go Harry!” He yelped, as an excited look crossed his face.

Harry sputtered as the brunet stood up. “Wait what?! You’re serious?!”

Peter nodded firmly. “You took me away from that stuffy Gala, I’m taking you away from an ice cream shop. Come on, I trusted you, return the favor!”

Harry laughed ridiculously. “You are insane!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”

Harry stood up. “Hell yeah.” And the two were off.

Peter led him to the subway station, happily eating what was left of his ice cream. Harry watched the small brunet fondly as he skipped ahead of them. Peter walked with an extra bounce to his step as he made his way towards the station. Harry followed him closely, eyeing him down happily. Harry was carefully eyeing Peter’s figure. Not only was the boy good looking, he was incredibly kind and smart too. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t developing a small crush on him. Even if he’d just met him. “Harry!”

“Hm?”

“You got a little distant there, something on your mind, Osborn?” Peter asked playfully.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, just thinking about something.”

“Well share with the class, what were you thinking about?” Peter pressed.

“That you’re insane for going on a walk in Central Park at,” He paused to check his watch, “11:00 at night.

Peter laughed. “Oh come on. You’re gonna love it, it’s beautiful.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You talk like you’ve been there before.”

A smirk crossed Peter’s face. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.”

Harry shook his head. “God it’s a miracle you aren’t dead yet.”

Peter laughed. “You can say that again!”

“It’s a miracle you aren’t dead yet.” He repeated.

The two laughed good naturedly as Peter stepped onto the subway. Harry followed him with a grin. They sat down and smiled, engaging in small talk, occasionally laughing as they ran out of conversation topics. Finally, the train pulled to a stop. The boys were up and off the train in an instant, running to the top of the stairs. “Come on, it’s just a short walk from here.” Peter said, leading the way.

Harry followed happily as Peter began humming a soft tune happily. It was familiar to Harry, he wasn’t quite sure where he’d heard it, but he’s heard it somewhere. As Peter stepped through the gates to Central Park, Harry couldn’t help but pause to admire him. The sky wasn’t clear, it never was in New York City, but the moon had managed to burst through just enough to create a silver halo around Peter, who smiled. He looked up at the moon and Harry felt his entire body shiver. It was like a picture out of a magazine, or a comic, or a photo gallery. Something almost impossible, but yet, here it was. In front of him. He couldn’t help but stare on in amazement.

It was dark, but the moonlight provided a blue-silver glaze over the scenery, as yellow lights from the nearby lampposts cast shadows onto the trees that swayed gently in the wind. In the center of Harry’s vision, stood Peter who was staring up at the moon, a large, gentle smile on his face. The silver moonlight reflected off his fluffy brown hair and his bright green eyes, as his dark smaragdine suit with a dark sapphire vest. He was standing up straight, a kind and confident look on his face. It was like a scene from a movie, and Harry felt breathless.

After a moment, the thick clouds and smog that often covered up the sky took their place in front of the moon, darkening the scenery, breaking the illusion. Peter frown slightly, before turning around. “The moon was really pretty.” Peter said smiling, as he took the chance to throw away the styrofoam bowl and plastic spoon.

“Not as pretty as you were just now…”

Harry froze as he realized what he said, before he flushed and turned away. Peter looked up, and saw his bright red face, and felt his own face begin to burn. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. “Uh- heh… umm… thank you…”

Harry’s face turned an even darker shade of red, as he meekly replied, “You’re welcome.” Before stuffing another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He wasn’t quite finished, since he was a slow eater.

Peter, attempting to shake off his flush, shook his entire body before straightening up. “Come on, I know a really nice place by the lake.”

Harry followed Peter who began treading the walkways, an embarrassed flush still gracing his features as he found the spot he was looking for. He jumped off the path and onto a large rock and began pulling himself up to the flat surface of it, as Harry approached the side. “How the hell did you even do that?!” He shouted, looking over the rough surface.

Peter glanced down before taking a sudden deep breath. “I come up here a lot, I’ve got a technique down.” He replied after a brief hesitation.

Harry raised an eyebrow, before nodding. “Alright then,”

Peter leaned over and reached his arm out, as Harry jumped to place his ice cream on the rock. “Do you trust me?”

Harry stopped half way. “Did you just quote Aladdin?”

Peter began laughing as Harry stared at him ridiculously. “I SWEAR TO GOD STARK, DID YOU JUST FUCKING QUOTE ALADDIN?”

Peter laughed harder and nearly fell off the rock as he grabbed his sides, wheezing. Harry began laughing with him, seeing his hysterics. He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god what the HELL!”

Peter looked up and Harry could see tears of laughter cascading down his cheeks. “OH MY- OH MY GOD YOUR- YOUR FACE WAS-” Peter shouted as uncontrollable laughter erupted from his lips.

Harry laughed as Peter gasped and coughed. “I can’t, I literally can’t. Oh my god, that was priceless.”

He rolled his eyes. “Help me up there you nerd.” He teased playfully.

Peter choked out one more laugh, before reaching over the side and helping Harry up. As Harry was pulled up onto the boulder, he couldn’t help but stop and gaze at the view. It wasn’t very tall, but you could see clearly over the entirety of the lake, and the bright NYC lights that pierced through the veil of trees reflected beautifully off the surface of the water. “This is…”

“Beautiful?” Peter murmured as Harry trailed off. “Yeah… it is.”

Harry turned to say something, but realized Peter was looking at him, a dark blush on his face. “S-Sorry! I-I-”

Harry shook his head. “No, i-it’s alright. I don’t mind.” He stuffed another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth as a weak attempt to cover up his blush.

Peter nodded and avoided his gaze. There were a few moments of silence, before Harry took a breath. “You know, you never gave me your number.”

Peter looked up in surprise. “And you never gave me yours.”

Harry smiled and held out his hand expectantly. Peter rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket for his phone, before handing it to him. Harry handed Peter his own phone so he could put in his number. The two punched in their numbers, when Harry froze. “Your dad’s calling.” He quickly said.

Peter quickly dropped Harry’s phone into his lap, and snatched his own phone back. He fumbled for a moment, before answering the face time. “Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark where the hell are you?”

“Uhhh… hi dad-”

“Where are you.” His father emphasized every word.

To say he looked upset was an understatement. He felt a cold chill run up his spine, before he turned to Harry. “Ummm… I ditched.” He admitted, turning back to his dad.

A startled look crossed his father’s face. “Are… you mad?”

“Not mad, just… surprised, and- YES ACTUALLY I AM MAD!” He shouted, after his confused expression disappeared. “YOU SHOULD’VE TOLD ME THAT YOU WANTED TO LEAVE! WE WOULD’VE LEFT! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE OFF ON YOUR OWN, YOU COULD-”

“Tony, calm down.” The familiar voice of Pepper broke through. “He’s taking after you.”

There were a few moments of silence as Tony was staring off-screen, whispering violently and looking very unhappy. “Peter, where are you. We’re coming to pick you up.”

Peter hesitated for a moment. He was having fun, he didn’t want to go! Not yet… “I-I’m staying the night at Aunt May’s.” He finally lied.

“Who’s with you?” Pepper asked.

Peter perked up, slightly surprised. “W-what? N-nobody, why do you think someone’s with me?”

“You keep glancing off screen, you’re with someone.” Pepper pressed playfully.

Peter hesitated, before turning the camera to Harry, who was mid-bite of his ice cream. “Uhh… hi.” He said through the mouthful.

“Peter is that Harry fucking Osborn.”

“Uhhh… in my defense I didn’t know it was him when I first met him.”

“You left your very first Charity Gala, with an Osborn.” His father replied slowly.

Peter hesitated before nodding. “Yeeesssss?”

“Peter, tell me where you are, I’m having Happy drive you home.”

Peter gave Harry a panicked look, who just shrugged, looking alarmed. In a rush of panic, Peter hung up. He stared at his phone for a moment, before screaming. Harry’s eyes widened as Peter struggled to turn off his location, as he looked up wide-eyed. “Please tell me you have a pocket knife or SOMETHING.”

Harry stared at him in disbelief. “Why?”

“I NEED IT!” Peter wailed.

Harry scrambled to reach into his pocket, before pulling out a nail file. “Will this work?”

Peter quickly grabbed it and opened up the back of his phone, pulling out the battery, and taking off the secondary casing, revealing the circuit board. He searched in a panic for a moment, before using the nail file to wrench out a small chip. He dropped it in his hand and returned the casings back to his phone, and chucked the chip into the water. “What the hell was that?” Harry asked as Peter let out a loud sigh.

“My dad’s gonna be tracking my phone, come on, we gotta run before he gets the suit. I just took out the tracker.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You have a tracker in your phone?”

“Every phone does. My dad just has access to it even when it’s offline.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Overbearing much?”

“We gotta run before he gets here- come on!” Peter shouted, leaping off the rock.

Harry shouted in alarm, grabbing what was left of his ice cream, and running after Peter. The two began sprinting away. Harry dropped his finally empty bowl and spoon into a trash can as they fled the scene. “Where do we go?!” Harry screamed.

“ANYWHERE BUT HERE!” Peter yelled happily, running through the gates with a carefree and amused look on his face.

Harry laughed loudly, attempting to keep up. “YOU WANNA GO ON A DATE?” He shouted loudly as the two reached the streets, but continued running down the walkway.

Peter gasped at the question but nodded. “OKAY!”

Harry ran to catch up with Peter, who was far ahead of him. After a bit, Peter nearly collapsed against a wall, gasping for air. Harry staggered to his side. “God, for a small guy you can RUN.” Harry shouted through his laughter.

Peter laughed along good-naturedly, but it sounded more like a wheeze than a laugh. Harry laughed and smiled at Peter. “I was being serious.” He managed to get out.

Peter smiled back. “And so was I.”

The two stopped breathing for just a moment to stare at each other, before laughing happily in unison. "So when… when do you wanna go on a date?"

Harry shrugged. "Right now?"

Peter laughed. "Wait, seriously?"

Harry shrugged. "Sounds like your dad's gonna kill you the second he sees you, I wanna be able to do this before you're six feet under." He teased playfully.

Peter shook his head. "You know what? This night has already been a chaotic mess. What's the worst that could happen." He decided.

Harry grinned. "Plus it's not like he'll tear down a movie theater to find us."

"Oh, so we're going to the movies?"

Harry nodded. "Cliché, but fun nonetheless." He replied.

"That's true." Peter resigned.

Harry chuckled lightly before going silent to finish catching his breath. After a few moments, Harry stepped forward and grabbed Peter's hand. "Come on, let's go see what the theaters got."

Peter flushed lightly as Harry squeezed his hand lightly and pulled him along to the nearest theater. It was a relatively long walk, but Peter didn't mind. Harry's hands were unusually warm for the chilly air. It was comforting and Peter couldn't help but trust him wholeheartedly. When they arrived at the theater, Peter smiled. Harry led him to the counter where a girl, probably just a year or so older than them, looked up from her phone. She straightened and smiled. "Hey, how can I help you two?"

Harry smiled and looked at the screen that was displaying the movies and their showtimes. The only one that would be on within the hour was Frozen 2. He nudged Peter lightly. “Wanna watch Frozen 2?” He said in a joking tone.

Peter laughed. “Anything to avoid dying by my father’s hand. Sure.”

Harry snickered. “Two tickets to Frozen 2 I guess.”

The girl sighed and printed the tickets out. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Harry looked to Peter. “Still hungry?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I was planning on eating at the Gala, but you pulled me away you jerk.”

Harry laughed at the comment. “Fine, what do you want?”

“Pretzel.”

“Alright. We’ll get two pretzels then, with cheese, a large bucket of popcorn,” He glanced momentarily at Peter, before chuckling, “four bags of twizzlers, and two drinks.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Why are we getting four bags of twizzlers, Harry?” He asked in a deadpan tone.

“Snacks. If we’re facing death we may as well die happy.” He remarked.

Peter stopped. “You have a point. Order away.”

“Well if you’re gonna be like that, we’ll also get four bags of skittles.”

Peter began giggling as the girl stared at him in disbelief. “Wha...what drinks do you want.” She finally said, after recovering herself.

“I’ll take a root beer. Peter?”

“I’ll get an orange soda please!”

The girl shook her head, before turning to her coworker who was laying in the back. “JEFFRIES!” She shouted, catching the boy off guard. “We got an order!”

Peter pulled out his credit card, attempting to pay, when Harry smacked his hand away again. “Stop! I asked you out, I’m paying!”

“But-”

“It’s my dad’s card anyway, relax, it’s okay. Let me pay.” Harry demanded.

Peter hesitated, about to argue again, before remembering what Harry had said about his father before. “Lets get so much shit his card gets cancelled.” Peter decided aloud.

Harry began laughing. “We are not driving my father’s business into the ground.”

Peter laughed along as the girl and her coworker, Jeffries apparently, began working on their ridiculously sized order. After a few minutes, they had all the food handed to them. Peter couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled into the showing room and found a good seat. The room was relatively empty since how late it was. Peter made himself comfortable in the cold room as Harry settled down beside him, distributing drinks, candies, and pretzels with cheese. A chill ran up Peter’s spine. It was colder in the theater than it was outside and Peter wasn’t enjoying that.

As the movie began, Peter found himself gravitating towards Harry and pressing into his side, enjoying the warmth. He smiled as he snacked on the twizzlers first. By the end of the movie, the two were practically cuddling, with Harry’s arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulder as he rested his head on top of Peter’s, who was as close as the chair would allow him to be. When the credits appeared and the lights turned back on, Peter felt himself burn at the closeness of him and Harry. Harry released him after a moment and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay, i-it was cold anyway.” Peter interrupted, his face bright red.

Harry smiled and looked down awkwardly. “We still have a few snacks leftovers. Wanna get refills and watch another movie?” He asked.

Peter smiled. “Okay.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

The two boys had watched two more movies after that, before realizing it was 4 in the morning. Peter had decided to go to Aunt May’s house, just like he told Tony he would, and Harry was walking him home. Harry walked beside him. They had taken the subway, but now they had to walk to a bus stop and take the bus. Peter sighed fondly. “Harry Osborn, that was one of the best nights of my life. And I have lived through many nights.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Peter. We should definitely do it again.”

Peter snorted. “Agreed.”

The two walked in silence as they sat down at the bus stop. “So, on a scale of 1 to 100, how upset do you expect your father to be when you get home?” Harry asked.

Peter immediately laughed. “Somewhere in the upper 7,000 range.”

Harry chuckled along with him, before sighing. “Damn, and I was hoping for a second date.”

Peter flushed lightly at that. “Well then I guess I’ll have to systematically avoid him for as long as it takes for him to calm down.”

Harry looked up and chuckled as a bus pulled up to the stop. The two stood up and boarded the bus, sitting comfortably in the front seats. There was nobody there other than one or two businessmen preparing for the day, looking tired. Peter leaned into Harry, it had become somewhat of a habit over the course of the night. Harry looked down at Peter. “You know, I think this has also been one of the best nights of my life too.”

Peter felt a grin grow on his face. “Is that so, Osborn?”

Harry chuckled. “That it has. I think only one thing could top this night off.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Harry turned to him slowly, a small smile crossing his face, before leaning forward. Peter felt his heart jump as Harry’s lips connected with his own. He almost forgot to kiss back as the realization set in. He began kissing back, slowly at first, before deepening the kiss. He felt Harry cup the back of his head with his hands, before the two pulled away for air. Peter took a deep breath and he felt Harry’s breath on his lips. “Damn you’re a good kisser.” He whispered.

“You are too…” Peter whispered back.

He had barely gotten the sentence out when their lips were connected again, the kiss being much more hot and heavy this time. They were leaning into each other, hands trailing over each others bodies as the kiss grew deeper and deeper by the moment.

The two were finally pulled out of their imagination when the bus stopped. Peter jumped and looked around, wide-eyed and flustered. The two were gasping for breath as the doors opened and Peter cursed. “This is my stop.”

Harry stood up and helped Peter off the bus. Peter began leading the way back to his house, and stopped in front of the large building. “I’ll walk you the rest of the way…” Harry stuttered, embarrassed from their makeout session.

Peter nodded, still flustered, before beginning to show him the way to his house. After reaching it, Peter laughed awkwardly. “Uhh, you know, umm… It’s pretty late and… your father… do you, umm… doyouwannastaythenight?” Peter squeaked, flustered.

Harry felt his face burn bright red and Peter saw his somewhat stunned expression. “NO NOT LIKE THAT- I MEAN- IT’S LATE OUT AND I’D HATE FOR YOU TO GO HOME AT THIS TIME!” Peter yelped, his face turned even redder.

Harry laughed, feeling his own blush grow. “Y-yeah! I mean, yeah, I’ll just… I’ll just stay for a bit and I can… go home later.”

Peter nodded. “Okay… Yeah, okay.”

He unlocked the doors and let Harry in first, his flush never disappearing. Peter stepped upstairs before sighing loudly and rubbing the back of his neck. “I, umm… I have some t-shirts and sweatpants you can wear, I’d hate to let you sleep in these stuffy suits.”

Harry nodded. “Alright, thank you.” He replied, as Peter began digging in his drawers. He pulled out a black long sleeved shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants and handed them to Harry.

“The bathroom is down the hall just before the stairs to the left.” Peter mumbled, trying to hide his blush.

Harry nodded and thanked him, and quickly made his way down the hallway. He changed and was somewhat alarmed at how comfortable the clothes were. He found himself nestling into the clothing. They were soft and freshly washed by the smell of them. He picked up his suit, folding it neatly, and exited the bathroom, making his way back towards Peter’s room. He knocked lightly and heard a small, “Come in.”

He stepped through and froze when he saw Peter standing there in a light blue t-shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants that he would almost certainly trip over. He blushed at the sight and smiled lightly. “Hey there…” He whispered.

Peter smiled, a flush crossing his face that was thankfully hidden by the shadows. “Hi…”

He coughed as a weak attempt to hide his embarrassment, before moving towards his bed and patting beside him lightly. Harry stepped towards him and smiled. “Are you sure this is okay?” He asked, setting his suit down on an empty space on the dresser, before sitting beside him.

Peter smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

Harry smiled and flushed, before looking down. “Alright, umm…”

Harry felt Peter touch his cheek, turning his head, and press a kiss to his lips. Harry felt a jolt of electricity run through him and kissed back. The kiss quickly deepened and Harry found himself gently pushing Peter down, pinning him to the bed. Peter moaned softly into the kiss as Harry rubbed his crotch gently with his knee and straddled him, deepening the kiss even further. Harry stopped when he felt Peter’s hand press against his chest, pushing him back lightly. He pulled away and looked down at Peter. He was flustered and obviously embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. “I-I think… I don’t think it’s a good idea to do...that. I mean I-I just met you today and-”

Harry immediately pushed himself off of Peter. “Oh my god I’m so sorry- I didn’t realize what I-”

“It’s okay- it’s not that I didn’t like it I just-”

Peter and Harry both went silent, staring at each other with flustered expressions. “I’m sorry.” They both replied in unison.

Harry straightened. “Don’t you dare apologize, I was the one pushing you to do… that. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I did just meet you earlier today.”

Peter nodded. “I was the one who initiated the kiss. It's alright.” He said, trailing off quietly. Finally, Peter began laughing and hiding his face. “Oh god this is so weird now.”

Harry laughed awkwardly beside him. “I mean, do you want me to sleep on the floor?”

“No! We can still share the bed, I just-- god. I’m sorry if I made it weird.”

Harry immediately shook his head. “Stop apologizing, I don’t wanna do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Peter smiled lightly. “Thank you.” He murmured.

“It’s okay. And if you don’t want me to sleep up here, I’m just fine with moving to the floor.”

Peter shook his head. “No, I don’t mind, just no touching in weird spots.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Those are terms I can comply with.”

Peter let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The brunet chuckled softly. “So, shall we sleep?”

Harry chuckled along. “We shall.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Peter felt himself begin to wake. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked rapidly. It was dark in his room, the curtains were drawn shut and the christmas lights that lined the walls were off. He took a deep breath through his nose and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his palms for a moment. He looked around his room and did a double take when he saw Harry asleep beside him. He felt his face begin to burn red and he turned to his alarm clock, which read 12:43pm. He rubbed his eyes again, checked his phone, and felt his heart sink. 132 missed texts from several people and 59 missed calls. “Oh my god I am actually going to die.” He stood up, careful not to wake the sleeping Osborn, and crept across the room to the hallway.

He closed the door quietly and stepped out of the room. He stepped down the stairs and saw Aunt May in the kitchen on the phone. She looked up and smiled knowingly. “I gotta go, bye.” She hung up.

“So? How was your night out?” She asked playfully.

Peter felt his face burn. “It was… It was good. How- how was- how was your day?” He stuttered.

May grinned lightly. “My day was fine. Your father got a little worried when you threw away the tracker.”

Peter buried his face in his hands. “He’s gonna kill me, May. Please don’t let him end my life.” He wailed into his hands.

May laughed. “Don’t worry Peter, he’s just worried about you. I called him and told him you made it home safe. And no, he doesn’t know anything about Harry Osborn sleeping next to you.”

Peter sagged with relief. “God I’m actually going to die May, he’s gonna kill me!”

May laughed. “Go to Pepper first, she’ll be able to calm him down. It’ll be fine.” She reassured.

Peter whined sadly before looking down at his phone. May pat his head lightly. “I’m glad you woke up before I went to work.” She hummed lightly.

Peter smiled softly. “I’m glad I did too. You have a good day Aunt May.” He said as she kissed his cheek, before leaving the house.

He stared after her, smiling, before turning to the cabinet. He pulled out a box of wheatcakes and a bowl and began making them. Peter hummed softly as he mixed the batter and dropped a bit onto the greased pan, which sat over the burning flame. He quickly turned and grabbed a plate out of the cupboard and returned to the stove, flipping the wheatcakes. He hummed a soft tune as he made cooked all the batter into something like 23 wheatcakes. He laughed at how overboard he had gone, but he didn’t mind much as he stored several of them in a tupperware and put them into the fridge to reheat later.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked up to see Harry standing there, looking slightly confused and curious. “Hey Harry.” He said, waving the spatula with a smile.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Hello there?” He said, seeming confused.

Peter laughed and pointed to the wheatcakes. “Breakfast! Well, lunch. Brunch!”

Harry laughed. “You made pancakes?”

Peter glared at him. “Don’t you dare ever utter those words in front of me ever again.” Peter warned.

Harry sputtered. “What?! What words!?”

“Pancakes! Never say that cursed word ever again!”

“What?! Why?” Harry demanded playfully.

"Its awful! They're called wheatcakes." Peter demanded firmly.

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "They're pancakes, Peter!" He shouted.

Peter whipped around and chucked the spatula at him. "HUSH!"

Harry mock-screamed as the spatula bounced off him onto the floor. He gasped loudly. "Did you just throw a goddamn spatula at me?!" He screamed in faux anger.

Peter glared at him, barely biting back a grin. "Yeah? What're ya gonna do about it?"

"We're breaking up."

Peter slapped his chest and yelled, "Noooo! The only relationship I've ever been in!"

The two stopped and laugh, a light blush crossing both of their faces. "How many do you want?" Peter asked, turning to the plate.

Harry smiled. "Three please."

Peter smiled as Harry sat down. Peter smiled and used a fork to put three wheatcakes on the plate. “Butter? Syrup?” Peter offered.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, both please.”

Peter used the fork to cut a slice of butter and threw the slice onto the wheatcakes, and handed him the syrup, before leaving the fork on his plate. “Enjoy.” He said grinning, before getting his own plate.

Harry thanked him as Peter made his own plate. After placing 5 pancakes on his plate, he drenched them in syrup and sat beside Harry and began eating happily. Harry raised an eyebrow at his large plate. “How do you eat so much and keep that figure of yours?” Harry asked teasingly.

Peter flushed and replied, “I have a fast metabolism,” He explained.

Harry nodded and continued eating. The two engaged in small talk, learning more about each other, and chatting lightly, before Harry sighed. “I should probably head home.” He said, taking his now empty plate and rinsing it off in the sink. “It was really nice to meet you, Peter, and I was hoping, maybe we could have a more official date, say, this upcoming Friday?”

Peter felt his heart jump in his chest and he nodded. “Alright, yeah, that sounds great!” He said, a smile crossing his face.

Harry grinned. “Alright, let me go get my suit and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Peter smiled and watched him disappear upstairs. He pulled out his phone and tapped the familiar icon. His phone rang for a moment, before he heard a familiar voice answer. “Hello?”

“Hey Pepper, do you think you could help me with something real quick?”

#parksborn #parksborn fanfic #fanfic #fic #irondad #iron dad #iron dad fanfic #MSM #msm 2017 #marvels spiderman 2017

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write-place-write-time · 5 years

Text

Found It

[ Can be read as a sequel/companion to "Lost It", or as a standalone ]

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

“Bit busy, mate.”

“Baker Street. Come at once.”

“Sherlock, I’m trying to -- No, Rosie, no biting! -- change Miss Nibs here--”

“Bring her along. I need you both.”

“For what?!”

Click.

John Watson pulled the mobile away from his ear with a resigned glare. Young Rosie babbled and grabbed at it, wriggling herself out of the 18 month frock he’d just wrestled her into. John turned his glare to his daughter, who giggled at him unashamedly.

“Between you and your godfather, nudity is trending at an all time high,” he grumbled, though there was no heat in it.

****

Upon arriving at 221b, the Watsons were met with a perturbed Mrs. Hudson, dashing out the door with her brolly and handbag.

“That boy is a menace, I tell you,” she said in between cooing at Rosie. “Got himself all aflutter and refuses to tell me why.”

John frowned at that. “Aflutter? Is he…?”

“He’s clean, of course, but he’s also cleaning. Sherlock Holmes, cleaning the flat!” She tutted, striding off towards a cab. “Good luck, you two!”

John and Rosie shared a look, making their way in and up to the flat.

The faint scent of lemon cleaner and fresh sugar biscuits wafted down the stairs as the Watsons entered their home away from home. The flat was clean. No sign of newspapers, weaponry, abandoned teacups, nor assorted baby-care items strewn about the space. Any paraphernalia of Rosie’s was organized in a designated area that John was impressed to find both conveniently out of the way and visible from all angles of the living room.

The yellow chair from the corner was positioned across from his, angled in companionship with Sherlock’s own. There was a soft, cherry red afghan that John had never seen before draped over the back. The mirror above the mantle was clear of any chemical residue or hand-swipes (from clearing off residue to use the mirror for its intended function); even Billy the skull looked especially clean, as though the teeth had been brushed. The bison skull was free of dust, and the headphones had been replaced by a -- “Flower crown?”

“John, Rosamund, hello!”

John turned from the baffling sight of the bison and its floral corona to where Sherlock’s voice had sounded behind him in the kitchen, and his jaw dropped.

The consulting detective stood barefoot in jeans -- jeans -- a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, purple dish-washing gloves, and a flour-powdered green tartan pinny. John gaped, trying to gather and understand the sight before him.

“Lock!” Rosie squirmed until her confused father set her down.

“Yes, hello, Rosie,” Sherlock grinned down at her, shucking his garish gloves and tucking them in the pinafore pocket before reaching out to assist the toddler in her steps toward him. “Your father’s gone quite fish-faced, hasn’t he?”

“And your godfather has gone domestic,” John shot back, fighting a grin. “What’s all this then? Have you finally had one-too-many nicotine patches? Therapist electro-shock you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he scooped the girl up and brushed a kiss to her chubby cheek. “Shut up, you’re late.”

“Yes well, little Nudist Nancy refused to cooperate with her wardrobe. What’s the urgent business then?”

“I want to have sex with Molly Hooper.”

John sputtered, “Oi! Tiny ears, Sherlock!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his retort was cut off by John’s second sputter of, “Why the hell do you think Rosie -- a toddler, mind you -- and I would be able to help you with that?”

Sherlock maintained his same passive look, but the creeping pink tinge on his ears gave John insight to his friend’s nerves. “Well, seeing as you have experience -- three continents, was it? -- and the proof of said experience is currently chewing my apron strings, who else would I call upon for aid in such a matter?”

John blinked. “Irene Adler. Your mum. Mycro--”

“Please don’t mention my brother in this context lest I subject myself to eternal celibacy,” Sherlock grimaced. “The Woman is not a wise decision, as it would be ‘not good’ to consult a lesbian dominatrix in love with me about intimacy with another woman. Mummy is right out. She explained the whole ordeal when I was twelve and made Father blush so hard I think he still looks sunburnt. No, it has to be you, John Watson.”

He grinned and made his way back to the kitchen, setting Rosie in her high chair with a freshly baked and cooled biscuit that she immediately set her eight new teeth into. John followed, still baffled.

“Does Molly know you want to… y’know?”

Sherlock shot him an annoyed look.

“Fine,” John capitulated. “Does Molly know you wanna get off with her?”

Those ears grew pinker as Sherlock busied himself with washing the baking materials like a normal adult human. “I don’t suppose how she’d know. She hasn’t asked.”

“She hasn’t asked? Christ, Sherlock. You two have been dating though, right? Coffee two weeks ago, dinner at Angelo’s last Friday?”

“Yes.”

“Did you by any chance, oh I dunno, kiss her goodnight?”

Ears were now pink to the bottom of their lobes. “Last date, yes.”

John grinned behind his friend’s back, snagging a cooling biscuit. “Did you snog?”

Huffing, Sherlock turned. “What’s the difference?”

Through his biscuit, John said, “Kissing is just kissing. Snogging is a bit more involved.”

Sherlock made a face and crossed his arms. “Juvenile.”

“Which means it wasn’t a snog, then?”

Sherlock shrugged. “It was satisfactory.”

“Oooh, ‘Dear Penthouse Forum’--”

“Oh shut up, John.” Sherlock dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, in a full pout-soon-to-be-sulk as he face-planted into the tabletop.. “It’s pointless and you are deplorably unhelpful.”

Daughter of deplorably unhelpful friend reached out with her tiny hand and patted her godfather’s curly head. “Lock! Okay?”

John sighed and sat opposite Sherlock. “Look, I’m taking the mick. You’re not the sexual deviant Janine crowed about in the tabloids, and you’re not the unwitting virgin that Mycroft and Moriarty claimed you to be.” He paused. “Are you?”

Sherlock’s answer was spoken low and into the tabletop. “No. The Woman once in Karachi. Janine… sort of.”

John blinked, fought off a triumphant I-knew-it grin, and cleared his throat. “Right, well, sex with Molly is a different beast, though. Molly Hooper is a friend. She’s your pathologist. You did say the L-word to her two months ago.”

Sherlock hummed, Rosie still petting his head.

“She’s not like Janine -- you actually want Molly. She’s not Irene -- you trust Molly.”

Sherlock mumbled something.

“What?”

Sherlock’s head popped up. “With my life, my body, my very soul if such a thing should exist. She matters most. She counts.”

John’s lips quirked up in the corner. “Yeah. And then Sherrinford…”

“I am quite wholly aware that I love Molly Hooper, John. It’s why I want this to go further. It’ll-it’ll mean something. For the first time.”

“Have you told her since then?”

The brief silence was answer enough. John nodded. “Well then that’s it.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to find it.”

“It?”

“Your courage,” John smiled softly. “You admitted you loved her under extreme, traumatic duress. Not ideal. But it is what it is. And what it is is terrifying.”

Sherlock held his gaze, not quite understanding.

“Look mate, Mary…” his voice caught on his wife’s name, his eyes sliding to their daughter who was peering at Sherlock in a very uncanny Mary-like way. “Mary said it first. She knew I loved her by our third month anniversary. She beat me to the punch, and what I never expected was the fear in her eyes right before she said it.”

“Fear?” Sherlock frowned. “Out of the two of you, Mary’s penchant for fear was far less likely than yours, army training notwithstanding.”

“Right. But Mary was like you, and affairs of the heart affect psychopathic geniuses differently than us poor mortals.” John fixed him with a knowing grin. “Mary was afraid of rejection, as anyone would be. But she did it anyway, like she always did.”

At this, Rosie slammed her little hands down on the table, demanding both men’s attention. “Mawee!” she crowed, proud to know her mother’s name.

They chuckled at her, Sherlock kissing her pudgy hand. “So I need to just… to just say it?”

“Well, don’t spring it on her like a booby trap or pop out of a cake with it,” John advised. “But yeah. Boiled down to its bare essentials, she’ll either return the sentiment and snog you silly, or she won’t.”

His friend blanched. “And if it’s the latter?” he whispered.

John smiles sadly. “Then you’ll at least know, and can begin to move on. But Sherlock?”

“Mm?”

He reached over, and in his awkward way, patted Sherlock’s hand. “It won’t be the latter.”

The men shared a look that only brother-in-arms and former flatmates would understand.

The look was was broken by Rosie clapping her hands and giggling madly. John tickled her belly. “Yes, all right, Miss Nibs, let’s treat ‘Lock to some chips.” He looked to Sherlock, who smiled gratefully. “This kind of battle needs a well-fed soldier.”

****

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

Sherlock was playing his violin when Molly arrived that night, a soft melody she had yet to hear. Possibly a new piece for his sister? He looked up as she came into the flat and dropped her bag and scarf on the coffee table. Hmm, she thought, the entire flat is spotless. He definitely wants to impress tonight.

“Hullo, Molly.”

She smiled at him. “Hi.”

He nodded to her yellow chair, still playing that light, tender song. She slid out of her flats and curled up into the chair, her oversized jumper pulled over her bent knees. As she settled in, she looked over the detective. He was so casually dressed, jeans and a white button up with sleeves rolled up, feet bare and warmed by the small fire in the hearth. Molly hugged herself, happy to see him so relaxed. He’d been through a lot since Sherrinford and their phone call. She too was still coming back to life from the ordeal and the knowledge of what happened on that horrible island and at Musgrave Hall. A particularly sweet note rang out, and she watched him feel it. Oh but she loved him. Doomed to, it seemed. Well, doomed might’ve been harsh -- destined sounded better.

The song ended as her ruminations did; she clapped quietly, smiling at him. He gave a small bow and set his violin aside, turning and gazing at her intently.

“Did you want me to order a takeaway?” she asked, curling her toes as he held that same searching gaze. “Maybe Chinese? My treat.”

“I love you.”

Molly froze. “Well, er, you got our cheque at Angelo’s, so this one is on me--”

“Molly Hooper.”

She stopped rambling, tears pricking at her eyes. “Sh-Sherlock Holmes.”

He came to kneel before her chair, his eyes still on hers. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Sherlock’s hands, warm and sure, gently grasped hers. His pulse beat erratically under his skin, she could feel it match hers. Her heart was screaming, her mind refusing to remember the last time she’d heard him say it. When it’d been torn from him by his sister and her own pride. She simply stared at him, let his confession wash over her and through her like a sea breeze after a storm.

Sherlock slowly let her hands go, and he stood gingerly. John’s voice, so sure that Molly would requite Sherlock’s affection, taunted him in his mind. He cleared his throat, a curious and unfortunately familiar lump forming, and made for the kitchen, scrounging for the takeaway menus.

“Chinese, yes?” he called back to the quiet pathologist, his mouth working fast to fill the silence and not panic. "I’ll get it ordered. With rain imminent, it’s best to order now. You’re probably craving that house lo mein you like -- always are when you’ve worked in the lab, can’t figure out why though it isn’t exactly a mystery, probably just a chemical reaction to the, well, chemicals you’re working with that have you ravenous and craving sodium and carbohydrates and various proteins--”

He stopped abruptly at the feel of her small hand on his. He looked up and Molly’s cheeks were damp, tears slowly spilling down, but her eyes were kind, dark, and calm.

“I love you,” she said simply. “I love you, Sherlock.”

She came up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, taking advantage of his relieved shock to -- as John Watson had predicted -- snog him silly.

****

The takeaway was never ordered, but the fresh-baked biscuits were consumed heartily.

The imminent rain arrived.

The tidy flat remained so, save for the shed clothing upon the bedroom floor of a consulting detective and his pathologist.

#sherlolly #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #john watson #rosie watson #mrs. hudson

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

under the mistletoe | p.p.

a/n: i can't resist enemies to lovers... was this inspired by a tiktok? that's something i'll never tell. xoxo, gossip ryn

summary: high school holiday parties can lead to unfortunate circumstances... especially when it involves your lifelong enemy and one godforsaken garnish.

warnings: lots of swearing, angst AND fluff, mentions of alcohol and gross horny teens

+ + +

You had no idea why you were at this goddamn party.

It was either the way MJ begged you to go or how the idea of a holiday food table made your mouth drool, but you somehow ended up standing in a stranger's house, music buzzing through your ears, with a resting bitch face as you watched the horny teenagers dance in a way that most definitely wasn't approved by Jesus.

Sure, you were most definitely a teenager, but you were lacking in the whole desperate-for-attention-so-let's-go-to-a-party-and-grind-on-each-other's-no-no-squares department.

You shoved another mini lemon cake into your mouth as you watched the crowd, almost entertained at this point. MJ had wandered off, probably to investigate the house, while you resided at the food table with about half of its contents already in your stomach.

Finally acknowledging your need for water after all the food, you walked over to the drinks, pouring yourself a cup and praying that it wasn't vodka.

It was.

You groaned, swallowing it down with a sting. The leftover liquor splattered into the sink as you dumped it down the drain then threw away the cup. Nobody needed any more alcohol tonight, especially with the horrid reek that filled the house.

The conclusion had been made- you were done with this party.

Thankful that you and MJ rode separately, you shot her a text and made your way through the crowd, eager to smell fresh air.

You found yourself stopped in the doorway out of the living room, fishing for your keys, so preoccupied that you hadn't noticed Peter Parker right in front of you. You finally got your keys out, sighing as you raised your head to meet eyes with the curly-haired boy.

Your reaction spiraled from shock, to confusion, then to plain annoyance. To your right, the crowd had turned their attention to the two of you, music halting and people blocking the struggling Peter from an escape route. On your left, it was the exact same.

"What the fuck?"

Peter stops trying to escape the situation and looks at you, then shifts his eyes up to the ceiling. "Right over your head, dumbass."

You look up to see the stupid plant you'd always despised. Mistletoe. Sure, it was kinda cute, but under certain circumstances. Not when you were face to face with the boy you've hated ever since you were six years old.

"You know what, Parker?" you say, returning your attention back to him, ignoring the 'ooh's from the crowd. "Being this close makes it really easy for me to sock you hard in the face."

"Then do it."

Surprise catches you but you shake it off, cocking a brow at him. "Don't be stupid, Parke-"

"No, no, I mean it. I know you've wanted to lay it on me for a while and now's your chance," he says, almost too nonchalantly. The only thing keeping you together is the fact that the crowd is seeing Oh So Innocent Peter Parker's bad side. "Gimme your best shot."

You huff, balling your fists before glancing back up at the mistletoe.

It was some force. Not you.

In no way did you have control over the way you grabbed Peter Parker's face and smashed your lips together, nor did you control the way you felt when he kissed you back. Your lips tasted like vodka and cherries and he smelled like winter air and faded cologne. It was almost intoxicating.

Until the sound of the crowd eventually reached your ears and you hurriedly jumped away, barely giving the boy a look before shoving through the crowd, out the door, and down the walkway to your car.

"Y/N!"

A groan immediately fell from your lips. You stopped in your tracks, feet away from your car, from freedom, puffs of air forming from your breath against the cold atmosphere. Everything about this was too cliche, too weird, and simply too much.

"What, Parker?" you ask as you turn around.

A mixed look of embarrassment and bewilderment is painted across Peter's face as he stands feet away from you, panting. You don't notice how his lips are red and puffy, nor how his eyes show a desperate look you've never seen before.

"I, uh, I don't know," he pants.

"I..." you start.

An expectant look grows on his face.

"I don't know either," you shrug, "okay? But what I do know is that you've been an asshole to me my entire life. You always have to be such a perfect little white boy to everyone else in the world, yet you still have to be such an annoying shits to me all the time. Every since the first grade, you've been number one in everyone's eyes and I've been number two. Do you know what that fucking feels like, Peter? Do you? Cause I don't think you do."

You can't even read the look on his face as you sharply inhale, voice getting louder until you're yelling.

"And you know what, Parker? I know you think it's okay to just do whatever you want, but you can't just kiss me the way that you did and then come out here with fucking nothing to say!"

"What do you mean the way that I did?" he asks after a moment, voice soft.

"I mean, dumbass, the way you kissed me that made me finally feel like I was number one for the first time in my life."

Sounds of muffled music play in the background of the silence between you.

"You know, you're the one who kissed me in the first place," Peter finally retorts, defensive.

"What else was I supposed to do? No one in that fucking house would've let us leave unless I either punched you or kissed you, and no way in hell was I going to sock you in the face!"

"Why not, huh? You've been wanting to hurt me for so long, to get back at me for all of the shit you've been through, so why didn't you just go ahead and do it?" the boy yells, tossing his arms in the air in desperation.

You scoff. "Because I'm not a bad person, idiot! I would never physically harm you, especially in front of all those drunk imbeciles, who, by the way, own phones! That shit would spread all over the internet! Do you really think I'd do something like that?"

"Well maybe I just think it because I know you hate me despite the way I feel," Peter says, the defense in his voice strong yet getting weaker.

"I- What?" you furrow your brows. "Hate's a strong word that I only use when someone steals food from me, and most of the time I never even mean it! And what the fuck do you mean by the way that you feel?"

You hear the air catch in his throat, hesitation and regret and tiredness practically radiating off his body. You knew what he was gonna say, but you didn't acknowledge that.

"I'm in love with you, okay?"

And there it was.

His words ring in the air, painfully, making your head spin.

Your Consciousness had a decade long track record of each and every encounter you'd ever had with Peter Parker. It took long, complicated notes on each reaction and feeling you had while even just thinking about him. Consciousness was an animal and it picked up on everything. Consciousness knew you were in love with Peter Parker one year into knowing him and yet, somewhere in the mess of things, Consciousness slipped up the transmission of neurons. It tried for years and years to fix that.

All it took was for Peter Parker to show himself first.

"God, this is so stupid," you say, rubbing your face with your hand.

"Yeah, I'm aware."

A small smile cracked on your face, and Peter's expression mirrored yours. He takes a step towards you and offers his hand.

"Feud resolved?"

"Feud resolved."

+ + +

wait why am i kinda proud of this

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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sheepyships-archive · 3 years

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what if you.....answered all of them......for tsuki 😳 — @cringyalienships

t...tsukishima?? oh my fuckin god ofc scout you know me so well. thank you for sending an ask! @cringyalienships (gonna be answering w my self-inserts/ocs bc they’re basically me just look not like me shhdgsj-)

strawberry: before getting together, how did your F/O realize they had a crush on you? How did they act around you once they realized they were head over heels?

uhh, well, it’s tsukishima, it was probably something that built up that he tried to repress it and brush it off like it was nothing, but when he couldn’t and he realized it was romantic feelings, he was probably like, “fuck my life.” and he couldn’t bring himself to hate aika for it, because she was just being herself and doesn’t have control over his feelings. as much as he wanted to avoid her, or be cold to her, he also couldn’t bring himself to do that either(he believed that he didn’t deserve her(BRUH), but even though he thought that, he wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt her to make her avoid him), so he just continued on with life, but eased up with teasing her than with others, and even joked with aika to try and get closer. he just waited to see any signs of her feeling the same way. (LET KEI TSUKISHIMA BE SOFT 2020 I WILL FIGHT ON THAT)

rose petal: what traditions do you and your F/O share?

for holidays, they definitely celebrate halloween together, aka: aika forces tsukishima to wear a costume while saying “i got this for you with my money, you have to wear it” and he just groans and puts it on reluctantly while complaining. but usually they go to a store and buy a bunch of candy instead of going house to house(they both agreed that it's better if they just went and bought candy than walking around for two hours). occasionally they will hang out with some of the others. just normal traditions between them are probably doing things like listening to music together, or talking about music or suggesting/showing music and bands to each other(this happens a lot more than they like to admit), and this can go on for HOURS.

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

they both show it in small ways in public by helping with schoolwork/studies, sharing earbuds, even just looking at each other, they don’t want a bunch of people to flock around them just to ask about their relationship, so they aren’t super affectionate. but when they are alone, they act like they’ve been touch-starved for their entire lives, and are basically holding onto or resting on the other at every moment, and a lot of the time they nap or spend the night at each other’s houses. but, whenever either of them get hurt, whether they’re in public or not, they will immediately go to them and patch them up/help them feel better the best they can(whenever tsukishima’s hands get injured while playing volleyball, she’ll kiss the spots that hurt, and tsukishima will kiss the callouses on aika’s hands from playing guitar, or any other injuries or scars).

coconut mango: what mementos do you and your F/O treasure?

they definitely cherish letters/origami crafts they give each other(aika makes origami gifts for tsukishima, tsukishima writes letters, i don’t make the rules). but the one they both treasure the most is a small dinosaur plushie that aika was able to get at an arcade, which she secretly bought with the arcade tickets that she won. as they were leaving she looked at tsuki and said, in the most serious tone she could muster, “i have to admit something to you.” at first this kinda freaked him out at first until she took out the dinosaur plushie with a huge grin, that earns her a glare and a elbow jab to the shoulder which made her laugh. aika always brings it to tsukishima’s house with her and he teases her about it.

nectarine: do you and your F/O live together? If so, what does your living space look like?

while they don’t live together at the moment, they definitely plan on living in a small apartment and aika has more experience in getting an apartment and living in one. they kinda just knew their plans without ever talking about it, and when aika does mention it to him, he just says, “i mean, it doesn’t need to be a mansion or a big house, we don’t need a whole lot. i definitely don’t, just you... and your snake.” aika falls in love for a second time, but also smacks his chest and is like, “YOU JUST WANT ME FOR MY SNAKE!!!” which makes them both laugh.

pineapple: what toppings does your f/o like on their pizza? what about you?

tsukishima is the basic bitch who would only like plain cheese on his pizza(i can’t say much though), and that’s it, he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to ask for extra shit on his pizza. aika likes those burger pizzas, where they have burger shit on a pizza, she is in love with it and tsukishima definitely makes fun of her for it and they get into small debates about which is better.

lemon sorbet: does your F/O get jealous easily?

i don’t see tsukishima getting jealous easily, and if he does, it’s rare. he knows that aika is SUPER loyal to him and their relationship, and would probably insult someone if they tried to get her to break up with tsukishima or if they began to flirt with her(something she definitely adopted while being with tsuki), and he’d never do it to her either and doesn’t see the point in doing it when he has a girlfriend who he cherishes a lot. they are both head over heels for each other.

key lime: how would you describe your self-ship’s aesthetic?

tsukishima literally IS the smart cocky kid aesthetic, blonde bitch boy, but with the glasses. now aika is literally an emo but also a chaotic mom friend, but she also has a pinch of pastel goth. both together they probably have the intimidating “we look like nerds, but we could beat you up, and we will depending on the situation.” but they’re also super chill so they won’t unless it’s necessary(aika will throw hands for tsuki if you push her to that point, so don’t test her).

pistachio: when was the last time that you or your F/O cried during a movie?

one night aika probably brings over the land before time(my childhood movie it is so good) and forces tsukishima to watch it, and after some convincing they do. at the hella sad scene at the start(if you know you know), as they’re watching it aika starts to tear up, and buries her face into tsuki’s shoulder to hide it, but her crying was a mix of the scene being sad, and it reminding her of past shit that happened. tsukishima realizes she’s crying and before he thinks about teasing her, he realizes that it’s not just because of the movie and just hugs her instead while pausing the movie, waiting for her to calm down. but after she does, he teases her jokingly to try and make her laugh, it works, of course. (you can see where the angst side of me came out)

matcha: what kind of gifts does your F/O give you? Are they always buying you little presents or do they invest only in larger items for birthdays or holidays?

they’re never really buy gifts unless it’s a special occasion, but most of the time they’ll make playlists for each other since they both like music, and like i said before, aika gives me the vibes that she would make origami-themed things and break into tsuki’s locker and leave them there, or she’ll just leave them on his desk, or in his room, etc. OH AND AND!! whenever the earbuds/headphones they have break, they definitely end up with a new pair by the end of the day with a note that says ‘try not to break these ones, love you. <3′.

blue moon: is your F/O very routine-oriented or do they like to go with the flow? How routine-oriented are you?

tsukishima is semi-routine-oriented, go to school, go to volleyball club, go home, study, listen to music, sometimes it’ll change depending on what happens or what is occurring in the future. he probably doesn’t mean to do it on purpose and doesn’t stress over a schedule, it’s just what comes to him naturally. with aika, she just goes with the flow, she used to be more heavily routine-oriented in middle school because she was more popular then and felt pressured to be “perfect”, and went through life on a schedule. but after meeting the people she hangs out with in highschool(aka monti), she fell out of it and began to just, not really care?

cotton candy: post the last picture of your F/O that you saved!

i don’t think y’all realize how much i love this and how many times i have this picture and the gif saved, it’s not healthy.

teaberry: where would you like to travel with your F/O someday?

honestly, they probably try to look up museums to go to that are more based around dinosaurs and dinosaur fossils, where they are, how much it would cost to go there, etc. they want to make sure everything is perfect if they do ever travel anywhere. but honestly, even if everything went wrong, they would both probably think it was perfect anyways because they’re together.

raspberry swirl: how does your F/O cheer you up when you are feeling down?

usually whenever aika is feeling down out in public, even if they’re in the same room, tsukishima will shoot her a text with a link to a song he found with a text that reads: ‘reminded me of you, i hope you know that i’m here if you need someone to talk to. i love you.’ after sending it, he watches her reaction and relaxes when he sees her smile and look at him. but in private, he’ll hug her from behind and hold her, letting her do what she needs to do to feel better, whether it’s crying, sitting there in his arms, hugging him back, etc. after awhile he’ll start to kiss her face, shoulders, hands while mumbling ‘i love you’ after every kiss. then afterwards he’ll say, “this stays between us.” and this makes aika almost cry laughing.

red velvet: what is your favorite food to bake with your F/O?

they for sure make cookies together, specifically chocolate chip cookies, they both agree that chocolate chip is the best and make them together. usually, it’s tsukishima doing most of the cooking because aika is goofing off, or gettng distracted by her friends, and she will definitely steal cookie dough and be sneaky about it, but tsukishima catches her EVERYTIME, even when he’s not looking he just knows, and can sense it. but when they finish, they are super good and aika always praises him about it. aika also definitely makes tsukishima dino-themed treats and food in general, which makes tsukishima glare at her and say, “y’know i like other things, right?” and aika just shrugs and comments, “dinosaurs and reptiles remind me of you, sooooo...”

OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND TOOK ME SO LONG TO TYPE UP I GOT VERY DETAILED AND LIKE MULTIPLE TIMES I HAD TO STOP AND CALM DOWN BC I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS DUDE LIKE JWJWHRFJHWERJ???? ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!

#sylvie . answers ➷#sylvie . rambles ☙#🌕 fill . the . void 🎧#hq!!#haikyuu!!#👾 scout .#sylvie’s f/o ask game 1!!

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