#“guys I think apple is orange” *never elaborates* *leaves* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatslikely · 4 years ago

Text

Seasons- G.W. Headcannons

dating George Weasley through the seasons

Warnings: mentions of food, but it's all fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: just thought it would be fun! Let me know if you want this for any other characters!

George Taglist: @hufflepuff5972

if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post, send me an ask, or dm me!

I recommend listening to this playlist while reading for the best experience!

----

Winter

On the first snowfall of the season, you two definitely built an adorable little snowman, complete with coal eyes (you probably stole Ron's scarf for his neck). You told George about the muggle story Frosty the Snowman, and he tried to find a spell to recreate Frosty.

The next day, you two gradually started amassing a large snowman army. Inevitably, in the middle of construction, George betrayed you with an icy snowball to your back.

Naturally, this incited a five day-long snowball war that increasingly got more and more intense. George was surprisingly good at building sturdy snow forts, so you never really stood a chance against his defences. He could have probably constructed a 7 foot tall barricade in a matter of minutes!

Even if you two are locked in battle, he'll always take time to admire the way the white snowflakes rest in your hair so beautifully, as well as the fiery determination behind your eyes.

Fiesty battles aside, George always made sure that you were warm and cozy after a long day in the cold, making homemade hot cocoa using Molly's famous recipe.

One day, long after the ‘Snow Skirmish’, you convince him to go ice skating with you; he absolutely fell in love with it. For a while, he had to hold onto your arms for balance, which led to a lot of falls considering he's a giant compared to you.

Eventually he got the hang of it and you taught him how to play muggle hockey, which he picked up quite quickly. He eventually got all the Weasleys hooked, and they held weekly tournaments. You were always George's favorite cheerleader.

If he ever became a little too cocky, he'd fall face-first onto the hard ice, which always brought a small smile to your face. He always laughed with you, too.

On snowless days, however, you two went on 'expeditions', which entailed peaceful walks through the woods, hand-knitted gloves intertwined.

You'd always keep your eyes peeled for birds or foxes, and occasionally he swore he saw a yeti. You were surprised he never got Fred to dress up in a yeti suit, at least not yet.

Spring

One word: picnics.

You spent the majority of springtime down at the Burrow, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. There were huge multicolored flower fields surrounding George's childhood home, making it even more fitting for the season.

Some days, he'd take you down to the creek past the Burrow, and the two of you would stand ankle-deep in the cool, flowing water. Sometimes, if he was feeling a bit mischievious, he’d splash you with some of the refreshing water, you quickly returning the favor.

Occasionally, he'd try to catch a little leaping frog, holding it carefully in his big palms. He was enchanted by the tiny creature, and without fail, he always begged you to let him keep it.

"But Terrance needs a home! We can make him a terrarium and everything! Please?"

Some days, he'd take you up to the Tree, which laid on a soft, grassy hill in the middle of a luscious yellow flower field. A single tire swing hung from its burly and ancient branches.

Often times, he'd sit at the base of the trunk, either dozing off or humming a song from his youth. If you chose to sit with him, however, he'd braid your hair perfectly and pick some colorful flowers to accent it.

"My little Angel, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair."

You'd always pick some petals for his ginger mop, too.

"Now we're matching, Georgie. Daffodils compliment your hair beautifully."

He loved to push you in the tire swing. He was far too big to fit in it now, to your dismay, but he was perfectly satisfied pushing you back and forth in it. It almost reminded him of rocking a baby cradle.

On rainy days, he'd fetch old rain boots from the attic. He'd always wear Bill's old pair, you wearing his'. The area around the small creek was all muddy, and you can't tell me he wouldn't make mud pies. Even if he's way too old for them.

"Darling, would you care for a pie?"

"And what does it taste like, exactly?"

"It's my signature flavor, mud!"

Summer

I firmly believe George is a good cook. He just is (see my chef!George fic for elabroation).

One sweltering day, you and him went out to the gardens and pick ripe, ruby-red strawberries to chop up and make into homemade strawberry ice cream.

His ice cream would surpass Fortescue's by a lot. Like it's scary. From then on, he made it every Saturday morning, even on chilly winter days.

Sometimes he'd turn adventurous and try some new flavors, which were normally pretty good, until he got a little too creative and made caramel watermelon ice cream. From then on, he stuck with the classics.

In the evenings, a small bonfire was lit and all the Weasleys spent the night drinking and dancing. Bill held a guitar concert, George and Arthur grilled up some hot dogs (which were juicy and delcious), Fred set off some fireworks, and Ginny held fiercely competitive broom races.

When everyone went inside, exhausted, you and George stayed outside, listening to the crickets chirping and admiring the clear, country sky. He pointed out his favorite constellations to you, reenacting the myths behind them with you as his co-actor (you can't tell me we wouldn't let you fake-stab him and he'd fall to the grass super dramatically).

Beach days: a must have.

George would definitely wear red/maroon swim trunks, and there would always be a white stripe of sunscreen on his freckled nose, even after he furiously rubbed it in.

He'd always love the bathing suit you sported, whether it was a gingham bikini or a gorgeous silver one piece. He loved you so much, you never felt self conscious around him.

He'd take you to a secret, tucked-away beach, and you two would spend the day building elaborate sand castles, burying you deep in the sand, and searching for pretty sea shells and sand dollars.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister? You can’t just leave me buried under the san like this!”

“Someone’ll find you eventually. I just want all the icecream for myself, what can I say? Oh fine, I’ll dig you up, darling.”

Autumn

Autumn at the Burrow was like nothing else. There was always a seemingly endless supply of pumpkin juice and apple juice on tap, and traditions were ampted up to the max.

Pumpkin carving was taken very seriously, and you and George were no exceptions. You and him were never artsy per se, but you always tried your hardest together to crave an intricately designed pumpkin. It always turned out pretty decent, to your surprise.

George and Fred would constantly wear scary masks and hide around he Burrow, or plant fake spiders in the cupboards in hopes of scaring Ron. It always worked.

Since the weather was so nice and chilly, he'd always go around the woods with you collecting a pile of some good sticks for a tree fort. He always carried the branches, and you collected the prettiest orange leaves you could find, for a collage or scrapbook.

All fall, he worked on building a small, secluded tree fort, which was definitely worth it in the end. You two stayed up late into the night, telling ghost stories, kissing, or inviting the whole Weasley clan for a good old fashioned game of Truth or Dare.

As for Halloween, you guys already know he goes overboard. He decorated every inch of every wall with black and orange streamers, fake cobwebs, and little baby pumpkins. It was always really sweet; he'd always wear a proud grin after the whole house was adorned to his liking.

For costumes, I'm 99% sure that you two would always do pun-y couple costumes think him dressing up as a cereal box and you as a killer, or him as a ghost and you a pepper).

You two would also 100% go to a costume store, and buy as much cheap hair gel as you could, all so you two could make each spiky Mohawks (you'd never admit it to George, but he pulled them off).

One time, he let you take him to a muggle farm for the day. You decided it would be fun to do a corn maze. The both of you got lost for three hours. From then on, he just stuck with hay rides.

Spending time with George was always fun, year-round.

197 notes · View notes

some-serendipity-snail · 3 years ago

Note

Mime, balloons, rodeo clown, flower, face paint, horn, Seltzer, tumbling

mime: what are your favorite colors?

balloons: do you like parties?

rodeo clown: do you have pets? (if so, talk about them! if not, do you want any?)

flower: what's one/some of your favorite scented products?

face paint: do you have any tattoos? (if yes, show/describe them! if no, do you want any?)

horn: what is your alarm in the morning?

seltzer: if you were a fruit flavor, what would you be?

tumbling: are you a clumsy person?

this is a relatively large post, so I'm gonna cut it to save people just scrolling lol

Cad Bane

surprisingly, this man has a lot of favorite colors. he loves warm tones the most. but his most favorite? a deep, deep wine red. sangria.

parties? absolutely not. way too many people and way too loud. unless the attention is on him, of course...

does todo count as a pet? because if so, yes he does. and no, he doesn't want any more little creatures crawling around his ship. (unless the creature is his s/o, of course.)

he doesn’t really have a favorite scent. but he does have a mint-scented candle in his ship’s bathroom. it’s never once been lit, though.

yes, he does have tattoos. or so it’s rumored...

cad bane does not need an alarm to wake up when he needs to. he wakes up at nearly the same time every morning. it is muscle memory by this point.

if this man was a flavor, i guarantee he would be lemon and kiwi. sour, but some people like that. and if you taste it long enough, it may even have some sweet undertones. <3

absolutely not. clumsiness in his field of work is detrimental.

Embo

deep, ocean blue. no real reason, he just finds the color to be calm. he likes blue eyes. if your eyes are this shade of blue, he will most certainly gaze very deeply into them.

he wouldn't go out of his way to attend parties, but if he's invited to one, he would be polite and visit for a bit. he isn't too fond of them, but enjoys being included.

of course! marrok is his most beloved companion. he isn't too loud, he's loyal, knows when embo needs him; he is easily embo's best friend. he even listens to his late night rambles when his thoughts become to much for him to bear on his own.

he really likes honey and coconut. he has a lot of coconut scented candles that he lights on special occasions.

he does have tattoos! though, i’m not sure what they would look like. any ideas?

marrok is his alarm. always wants to go to the bathroom and for a walk super early in the morning. but it’s alright, because embo is a morning person.

peach. do i have an explanation for this? no. <3

no. he was trained from a very young age to be adroit and graceful.

Bossk

he would have to think about this for quite some time. but once he makes up his mind, he will likely say that it is either brown or orange. he's indecisive.

who doesn't love a party? all the more reason to be loud and cause chaos! he's not exactly an extrovert, but he's not like embo and cad; he loves parties!

currently, he does not have a pet. but he has had a couple of hunting hounds in the past. though, his father didn't exactly allow him to care for them like they were pets. just another weapon in their arsenal for hunting. he did like them though, they were good boys.

subtle scents, anything too floral or strong just makes his head hurt. specifically he likes warm vanilla scents.

no he does not have any tattoos, but he'd like to. scales are difficult to tattoo, though. he’s not sure what kind of tattoo he would want, but he thinks he’d look cool with sleeves or a big back tattoo.

he doesn’t believe in alarms. he lets himself sleep as long as he needs. he’s partially nocturnal; and it’s not a trandoshan thing. it’s just a bossk thing.

bossk would for sure be citrus and spice.

not usually, he’s not a clumsy person. but sometimes...

Dengar

pink and purple! specifically, the pink that is verging on orange, just as the sun is setting. and royal purple, but kind of muted.

if he is invited to a party, you bet your ass he's gonna be there! even if you didn't invite him, expect him to be there. he's the life of the party, to him at least, and wants to talk to everyone there. he claims it's for "networking".

if plants count as pets, he has two. you’d have to ask him to show you, he has named them both.

dengar looooves the smell of dewy leaves and wood. it makes him feel inspired. whether that’s poetic inspiration or inspiration to cause havoc, it depends on his mood for the day.

nope, no tattoos on this guy. but he would be the most likely to get a really dumb one on a drunken whim.

he sleeps in, but he also goes to sleep early-ish. so he either wakes up at seven in the morning or two in the afternoon. there’s no in between.

dragonfruit. you can take from that what you will.

yes. yes, he is clumsy. but usually, it’s on purpose. he likes making people laugh. but he does know when he can’t be clumsy.

Sugi

green; she prefers vibrant shades like sap green over the darker sage green. however, she says that bossk's green looks like vomit.

she likes going to parties on occasion. they're like a little treat, she'll go after big jobs to celebrate. but if she knows the birthday of someone she cares about, fully expect her to go all out on it. latts will help her.

not any pets of her own, but she likes to think that marrok loves her about as much as he loves embo. close enough.

favorite scent? lavender and jasmine always calms her, and smells nice. but nothing quite like the scent of smoldering flames. she loves bonfires. maybe she’s an arsonist, but that’s a story for another day.

yep! they’re traditional iridonian zabrak tattoos.

she’s the one with a loud, obnoxious alarm clock.

if sugi were a fruit flavor, she would be warm, caramel apple.

she’s really only ever clumsy on off days. like, if she hasn’t slept much or is overly emotional.

Latts Razzi

orange!! she's super happy her hair is her favorite color, it just looks so nice with her skin and it goes great with so many outfits. blessed.

parties are okay, but she prefers higher class parties that are more like masquerades. she likes how easily she can sneak in and blend with the crowd.

she has a sizable aquarium with a bunch of beautiful, colorful fish. they all have names and she assures everyone that has seen them that the fishies have distinct personalities. they do, but it’s hard to see when you’d only known them for a few seconds.

extravagant perfumes that make her feel like the baddest bitch on the block. rose oil is also one of her favorites.

she’s never had any permanent tattoos but she loves painting her body and using body glitter. she always has a new look she wants to try out, so getting anything permanently tattooed would be something she would almost instantly regret.

her alarm clock is an elaborate, hand made carousel clock. it sings a pretty song.

mango is her fruit. sweet and juicy, full of flavor. and vibrant! who doesn’t like mango?

no, she’s nimble and moves like water.

Jango Fett

hm, he would say he doesn't have a favorite color but obviously, it's silver. just classy and he likes the way he looks in it.

it all depends on the party in question. does he know the person that invited him? is there a good reason he was invited to this party? why is there a party? he would rather throw his own party, with people he trusts.

he has had a couple of pets, all strays he took in as a young boy. he loved them all fiercely.

his ship and his place smell like an ocean. like a beach.

yes! he has ta moko on his shoulders and back.

similar to cad; he wakes up just from muscle memory. but he also sets a standard alarm, nothing special. sometimes boba wakes up before him and pesters him awake. lovingly, of course.

this man is pomelo and you know it. maybe strawberry, too.

he’s not particularly clumsy, no.

#cad bane #embo #bossk #dengar #sugi #latts razzi #jango fett

14 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 5: Martian March

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow

Rainbow, moonbeams, and orange snow

On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five

Going back to Saturn where the people smile.

Saturn-Stevie Wonder

our rooms glittered. They were faced in massive scale pietra dura stone patterns from floor to ceiling. Gray, black, and white dominated, with a surprising amount of green mixed in, as well as startling pops of orange-red, blue, yellow, purple, and bright pink.

The designs were large and geometric, almost a sister style to the classic Art Deco that you saw on the older buildings downtown, mixed in among the flavorless glass towers and Brutalist boxes that defined the 'modern' era.

This main room housed a delicately carved stone couch and chairs, around a low stone table, and several stone shelves and storage boxes. These were all made of a black stone that held numerous yellowish-green crystals in their matrix, all polished so that the crystals shimmered.

This same stone appeared in the patterns on the walls and floor, as very thin panes on a pale backing, highlighting the colors of their crystals. This, along with a similar black stone with reddish-orange crystals, and a dark gray, large-grained stone that sparkled at any angle, was contrasted against the now familiar creamy white and pale orange. Here and there, inlays of silvery wire brought organic shapes to the mix.

The cloudy crystal made a reappearance in a round, well-lit, domed room Loki described as a 'Solar', even though no sun could reach this place. Instead, the clearest of the crystal had been set into the dome, all of it covering the mysterious lights, creating a bright light source that illuminated the room to something close to midday. The walls were covered in the cloudy crystal, which, in the bright light, shone with veils and flashes of iridescent blue.

On one wall there was a subtle inlay of translucent gray stone, in the shape of clouds, that shone in splashes of blue and purple. Cleverly inlaid within them were specific pieces of the same type of stone, in the shape of lightning bolts that sparked yellow when viewed at the right angle, but were invisible from others.

He showed you the antechamber that connected your rooms and his, all in black and green. Even the lights were covered in thin panes of green crystals thickly packed in black matrix, casting a dim, viridian light over the whole chamber.

You decided that room was extremely creepy, and you never wanted to be in it.

The bath room was much better, ridiculously large, with a shower just out in the open, a wide counter with a mirror of polished metal, a huge tub carved right into a semi-finished block of stone, and a strange toilet tucked away in a stall in the corner. It was all big enough for you to move around in easily, though you mentioned that you would need a chair for the shower. Loki vowed to have one brought immediately.

But your bedroom was the obvious jewel. Loki puffed up with pride as he showed it off, as if he were the one who designed it. There were jewels in here, bright, bubblegum pink, golden yellow, and apple green in elaborate platinum settings, affixed to the walls. There was more cloudy gray and white crystal in here, with their blue and purple, pink and yellow flashes. The lights were clustered around the ceiling like stars, and the bed was another of the precious rare wooden objects, a four poster canopy bed, draped with a gauzy veil.

Most surprising of all, the bedroom had a window-or rather, a doorway out to a semi-circular balcony that overlooked what must be the main palace courtyard and entrance. When you stepped out onto it, you could see lines of guards-more people than you'd seen in one place since you'd been here. They framed the long, rectangular space every ten feet or so, in bright, brassy armor and sunny yellow capes.

This was clearly a cape kind of place.

It was very strange. You could have sworn you hadn't climbed any ramps, and you certainly hadn't gone up any stairs, but here you were, at least six stories up, and there were more stories above you.

“You must be clever builders.” you said without thinking about it.

“Our engineering capabilities are the envy of the galaxy, it's true.” Loki boasted. You believed him. All around the courtyard more balconies jutted out. Several dozen feet to the side of yours, the balcony you assumed must belong to Loki was connected to another large balcony on the opposite side by an elegant walkway, supported by slender pillars. There was a round platform in the center, and red curtains obscured the balcony on the other side.

“We can address large crowds from there, or call emergency meetings of the guards, or the other high nobles.” Loki said, following your gaze. “That's who lives on this floor. Myself, my brother, all of the most important Asgardians, and now you.”

But not for long, if you had any opportunity. “Uh, I'm honored.”

“How do you like them, though?” he pressed, “Is the décor to your liking? The size? We've been working on it for months, but we can still change things if you need.”

“Months?” you gasped, shocked. “You guys did all this in just months?”

Asgard had come to Earth a little under two years ago, decimated and begging for assistance. Thor led them, but no one knew Loki had come along. Thor himself served as his own liaison to the United Nations, bringing his case before the leaders of Earth, to secure a place for his people.

Obviously, it had worked. Thor's reputation and high-profile friends, as well as his surprisingly diplomatic and optimistic outlook had both charmed and discombobulated most people who spoke to him. People liked and respected him, but no one expected him to be savvy.

It had worked out very well for him and his people. They had secured some secret land that the entire U.N. had remained tight-lipped about. Then, a few months in, Thor had stopped making appearances, leaving Earth-Asgard relations to his advisors; an abrasive, undiplomatic woman whom you loved to watch, and a stoic and imposing man with unsettling eyes. Rumors flew for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention. There had been so much to fight for at home.

Did anyone even know you were gone? You were supposed to attend a march tonight. Or last night? You didn't know how long you had been asleep. Surely someone noticed you were missing.

But if they did, how would you even know?

“-harness the sun's energy over the long rotation period so that we can build even more efficiently.” Loki was saying. “We've done an admirable job for such a reduced population, but there is so much more to do.”

“And you took them away from that to build this for me?”

“I took them away from this to build special chambers for the princess of Asgard.” Loki corrected, “It was not a waste, nor was it superfluous. It was for someone important.”

“I'm not.” you insisted, “I'm just some rando they snatched up and tossed at you. I'm not princess material.”

“I will find out what is behind this.” he said, “But until I can, I want you to feel comfortable here. This is all yours now, and more.”

You couldn't, you couldn't allow yourself. You weren't supposed to be here. It was only a matter of time before this mix up was discovered, and a swap was arranged. You'd go home, and some other woman would take your place.

How horrible.

“But is everything to your liking? Do you need more light? More space? Is the bed all right for your leg? A good height?”

You were more than a little wary about getting into bed with him here, but as you hobbled over to it, he remained at a distance. You sank onto the plush mattress, with it's silky green sheets and thick comforter. It was very nice, soft and smooth, and warm, despite being placed on solid stone. Hopefully the blanket would ward off the slight chill that followed everywhere you had been so far.

“It's a good height,” you said, “especially if I get a new cane.”

“Excellent. Would you like to see my quarters?' he asked, “You may come and go between them as you please.”

Which meant that he could too. You didn't find that reassuring.

“Uh...isn't that, um, inappropriate?” you asked, casting about for any reason to refuse. “We haven't even, um, there hasn't even been a wedding!”

He paused, then his face broke into a beautiful, glowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You want that big celebration, naturally. Well, it is only fair, isn't it?” He sat down on the floor next to your bed, as if forgetting that he was a prince and a god, a powerful figure, abandoning his dignity to sit on the floor like a child.

“Do you want to plan it, or leave it to the advisors? Asgard is very good at grand weddings, but if you've had some specific plan for it, I'm sure we can accommodate it.”

“Uh...” This would be the perfect opportunity to stall. You could buy so much time with this! “I would like to plan it. There's things I've been wanting to do since I was a little girl. It would be a dream come true, to plan my own wedding.”

Not strictly true. Certainly, as a little girl you had contemplated flowers and a dress. There being a groom was far less important.

“Then begin any time you like.” Loki said warmly. “I'll have notebooks brought to you, and you can plan out whatever you want. Whatever it is, we can do it for you.”

You almost felt bad for what you were going to do, but on the other hand, you didn't trust him and his terrifying adoration, and horrible power over your life and safety. You'd make as many impossible demands and take up as much time as you possibly could. If it kept you safe. If it kept you from the nightmare scenario.

“I will have your bathing chair brought. You seem tired; shall I have dinner brought to you? We can dine in your audience room. We can have you measured for a new prosthetic, and for a new cane as well. The artificers will set to work on them immediately.”

“Um, sure. That sounds fine.” Dinner would be welcome, after only one apple and one cup of water. And a new, higher tech leg and cane might help you escape faster. You should take every opportunity available to you.

Loki helped you out to the largest room, with it's bookshelves and seating, and saw that you were comfortable. Then he bid you stay put and wait for a bit, while he got everything set up. You were in no shape to try for an escape right now; you would just bide your time.

You waited patiently, taking in the details of the beautifully precise stonework that made up your new-temporary-living quarters. What incredible workmanship. Shame it had been wasted on you.

Maybe someone else would have been thrilled. To have wealth and power, security and luxury, a handsome prince just handed to them with no effort on their part at all. That wasn't what you wanted though; you didn't want to join the lucky ones. You didn't want to be lifted out of your hardships and set above your peers, you wanted those hardships to be eliminated for everybody. You didn't want to be a social climber, you wanted a more equitable society. This fantasy was worthless to you. It had all been done without your consent.

A quiet knock on the door grabbed your attention. You didn't answer immediately, and the knock was hesitantly repeated.

“Um, come in?” you called.

The two adolescents you had run off before cracked the door open and peeked their heads in.

“Your highness?” the girl asked.

“May we enter?” the boy finished.

“Yeah, come in. I'm in a better mood now.” you said calmly. No need to be rude to them now that she knew what was going on. If Loki hadn't even known about the kidnapping, there was no way these kids were in on it.

“We were sent here to get measurements?” the boy-Andvarri wasn't it-asked shyly. “For a prosthetic leg, and a cane?”

“Yes, I was told you might be coming. I'm sorry about earlier: I was very disoriented and confused.”

“No harm done, your highness. This won't take long.”

The girl-Bjarkehilde-helped you stand as Andvarri took several measurements and asked about your preferences in weight and materials, flexibility and points of articulation, even colors and decorations.

They were going to put in a lot of effort to help you escape. A fine efficient leg, a sturdy lightweight cane, and Bjarkehilde even asked about what kinds of medication you needed, and for what.

Bjarkehild was surprisingly close to your height and build as well. That stayed in the back of your mind for a while after the two of them left.

As the minutes passed, you began to realize that you were going to need some kind of clock. You had no idea what time it was. There was no visible sunlight, the lights in your rooms hadn't changed at all, and no one had mentioned it at all. How did the Asgardians know? Was some kind of internal timekeeping part of their natural abilities?

Maybe it was the nebulous grasp of time, maybe it was the fading adrenaline and setting in of weariness, maybe it was residual drugs working their way out of your systems, but you began to feel strange as you waited for Loki to return. Either you felt hot, or the slight chill that was prevalent in this place was getting worse. Perhaps you had been staring at the artistic walls for too long, because the colors seemed to be vacillating between painfully saturated, and fuzzy at the edges.

It seemed to take forever for Loki to return, carrying a tray of food and drink. This he set on the lovely stone table before you, and then took a seat in a nearby chair.

“You must be ravenous by now.” he said, and you were. You leaned forward to inspect the offerings. The metal tray was filled with small stone bowls and plates, and two small cups of liquid. Was this how meals were traditionally served in Asgard? A great variety of small portions?

One of the cups turned out to be orange drink, from powder. You recognized that taste from your childhood. The dry air had made your tongue rough, and the acidic flavor was a blast on your tastebuds, as bright as the colors on the walls. The second cup was some kind of brown broth, possibly also from powder, as it got thicker at the bottom of the cup. There were dried apricots, soaked in honey, and dates, a barley porridge with a swirl of honey and a dash of cinnamon. There were common Saltine-type crackers that went with a very strange stew that looked like it was made, not just with re-hydrated vegetables, but re-hydrated meat as well. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

You barely noticed. You wolfed it all down as Loki just sat and watched, having brought nothing for himself.

“I see you needed the fuel.” he commented, after every bite was gone. “Yes, I think you will need it. Beloved, I must tell you something about that apple you ate earlier. I can see it's effects are starting to take hold. Like I said earlier, I had thought to feed it to you slowly.”

“The apple? What...what's it doing to me?” Beloved? He was taking things a bit far, wasn't he? But you definitely were feeling weird. Uncomfortable. “I had just woken up and I didn't know where I was, or what was going to happen. I didn't know where my next meal was coming from.”

“And I understand that now, as I did not then, or I would have refrained from putting it out at all. But it's too late now. For several things. We will simply have to adapt and endure.”

“Endure?”

“I will not leave your side, you may count on that.” He promised. “But that was a special apple. Its tree came from a cutting, taken from a remnant grove in Vanir territory, as part of their peace treaty with us. A sacred tree whose fruits provided the Vanir with ageless warriors. For us, they heal terrible wounds and sickness. But for you, they are known as the Apples of Immortality, and they confer a great gift indeed. But it is not without price.”

You doubled over in pain.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

10 notes · View notes

omgjasminesimone · 5 years ago

Text

His Place

Bryce x MC (Casey)

A/N: Since we still haven’t learnt Bryce’s secret (I’m very impatient) I had to write this.

Word Count: ~2000

A sequel to this drabble

Bryce wakes up at 5:30 AM on the dot, like he does every morning. Even on his days off, his internal clock is so fine tuned that he can’t sleep in. Casey has no such problem and she’s still sound asleep, using his chest as her pillow.

He caresses her cheek before leaning in for a quick kiss to her forehead. Then, Bryce carefully navigates his way out of her bed without waking her. He quietly closes the door to her room before making his way to the kitchen.

Jackie, Sienna, and Elijah are all at the kitchen table, dressed for work.

“Good morning!” Bryce greets jovially, grabbing the milk off the counter and making himself a bowl of cereal. “Where’s Aurora?” Bryce asks.

“Overnight shift. She should be home soon.” Sienna replies.

Bryce pours the last of the orange juice into a glass before taking a seat beside Elijah.

“You know Bryce, if you’re going to practically live here, you should probably start chipping in on rent. Or at least on the grocery bill.” Jackie deadpans, munching on some avocado toast.

“And, you could also not walk around in your boxers.” Sienna adds tentatively, a blush staining her cheeks.

Bryce smirks, leaning back. “Grocery bill, no problem, I’ll Venmo you Jacks. But putting on a shirt? Sorry, no can do Sienna.” He teases.

“How many sit ups do you do a day to maintain your abs?” Elijah asks curiously, pushing away his pop tarts since he suddenly has a new lease on life and fitness.

“100 in the morning, and then 200 at night.” Bryce answers.

“Man, I’ve got to get on your level.” Elijah comments.

“You should join me and the boys in the gym on Tuesdays! I know some seated ab exercises.” Bryce offers.

“You know what? That sounds great! See you guys Tuesday.” Elijah says with a smile, rolling away from the table to head to work. Sienna and Jackie follow after offering quick goodbyes to Bryce. After Bryce finishes his cereal, he loads the dishwasher before making his way back to Casey’s room.

She’s awake now, dressed and standing by her nightstand.

“Good morning beautiful.” Bryce greets, closing her door behind him. He quickly dodges to the left when Casey suddenly turns and throws a framed picture of them at him. It bounces off the door, scuffing it a little. “What the fuck Casey?!”

“Who is Taina Lahela?!” Casey yells, his phone held in her hand as she looks at him accusingly.

It takes a second for Bryce’s brain to catch up. He feels all his lies crumbling around him.

“That name not ringing any bells? She’s the woman texting you, ‘we’re out of milk’.” She throws his phone at him, but he catches it so it doesn’t break.

“Casey-“ Bryce starts before she interrupts.

“Are you fucking married Bryce?!”

“What?! No! How could you even think that?!” She has to know that he’s not that kind of guy.

“I’ve never been to your place! And now I find out you’re living with some woman who you’ve never told me about, what am I supposed to think?!” Casey screams, tears streaming down her face now.

Bryce tries to step closer to her, “Baby, it’s not like that.” Casey takes a step back.

“Who is she?” She questions again.

Bryce sighs, caged into a corner now to the point where he has to tell her the truth. “My mother.”

Casey scoffs, disbelieving. “Who saves their mother in their phone as their first and last name?”

Bryce shrugs. “Someone who doesn’t have a strong attachment to her. I was mostly raised by my grandparents. She was never a good mother, but biologically that’s what she is. I don’t call her mom. I call her Taina.” Bryce explains.

Casey quiets as she soaks this in. She’s obviously trying to decide if she believes him or not. “That doesn’t explain why you won’t have me over.” She finally says, looking at him suspiciously.

Bryce takes a seat on her bed, running his hand down his face as he prepares himself to share things about himself that he goes to such great lengths to keep hidden. “I didn’t want you to meet her.” He explains.

“Why?” Casey prompts, tentatively sitting beside him.

“Because she’s a drug addict who lives with me because the only way she could get out of jail on parole was to give them an address, and she was homeless. Not exactly the ideal roommate. Not the kind of person most people would want in their families. Not someone I’m proud to have come from.” Bryce elaborates.

“Bryce.” Casey tries to comfort, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. “You can tell me things. I’d never judge you.”

“See, you say that, but I’m sure you can’t help but judge. Like all the kids at school did. Oh, there’s Bryce Lahela. His mom is a drug addict, and sometimes a prostitute. She’s in jail for theft to feed her habit. Let’s all pity Bryce.” He recalls bitterly.

“She doesn’t reflect on you Bryce. Coming from that, you worked your way to Stanford Medical School. And to a top Surgical Residency Program, where you’re the best surgical resident. You did that all on your own. That’s something to be so proud of Bryce.” Casey replies, resting her head on his shoulder.

Bryce sighs, resting his head atop her’s. “I just….I guess I just wanted to portray my background to be happier. It was a rough childhood honestly, but I don’t want anyone to feel bad for me. I’m good now. I’ve got a lot of great things in my life, like you, to counteract the bad things like being caretaker for an addict.”

“That must be hard to balance.” Casey comments, squeezing his hand.

Bryce shrugs. “I have to do all the grocery shopping. I can’t give her money or she’ll buy drugs. She’s not very pleasant or grateful either. But if I didn’t take her in, my grandparents would have and they’re getting too old to have to deal with her.”

“….Does she know about me?” Casey asks tentatively.

“No. I generally just try to keep her separate from the good things in my life.”

“Well, I’d like to meet her.” Bryce looks at her with disbelief. “Bryce, I want you to feel comfortable telling me things. I want to know about your past. Because I see a future with you.”

“Still?” He asks hopefully.

Casey nods, taking her head off his shoulder and turning to kiss him softly. “I love you Bryce. And I’m really glad you’re not married.”

Bryce chuckles, cupping her cheeks and giving her a longer, more passionate kiss. “I love you too. Even when you throw stuff at me.”

Casey blushes, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have terrible aim.” Bryce laughs as Casey smacks him playfully with a pillow, falling over onto his back.

Casey lays down on top of him, running a hand through his hair as his hands run up and down her sides. She grips his left hand suddenly, inspecting it.

“What are you doing?” Bryce questions.

“Looking for ring finger tan lines. Good news, you’ve passed the inspection.” Casey teases, leaning in to kiss him again. Before they can get carried away, she pulls away, rolling off of him. “Let’s head to the grocery store for the milk before heading over to your place.” She invites herself over.

…

Bryce holds the grocery bag with one hand and Casey’s hand with the other, leading her from the Green line T stop to his apartment.

“It’s this building.” He announces when they’re standing in front of an older low-rise apartment complex.

“I like it.” Casey comments, hip bumping him as he hesitates at the entrance to the building. “Come on Bryce, you have nothing to worry about.” Casey comforts, tugging him inside.

He has to let go of her hand to insert the building key in the entry way, but he laces their fingers once more before leading her to the staircase and then up to the third floor. He lets out a long breath before opening the door to his apartment.

Taina is on the couch, watching Maury. “About time. I was starving.” She complains, not turning to look at them.

“Taina, this is Dr. Casey Valentine. My girlfriend.” Bryce looks at Casey tentatively. Even though they used the L word today for the first time, they didn’t actually define their relationship. But she smiles and squeezes his hand, confirming their new official relationship status. “She’ll be around from time to time.”

Taina turns her head to look at them. “That’s fine.” She concludes.

Bryce’s jaw clenches. “I wasn’t asking permission. This is my apartment. I’m just letting you know.” He counters.

Taina rolls her eyes, turning back to Maury. “Fine.” She says again.

“Nice to meet you Taina.” Casey greets before turning to Bryce. “Now, I want an apartment tour.”

Bryce leaves the groceries on the table before stepping behind Casey, wrapping her in his arms. “This is the kitchen-slash-living room.” He begins the tour, resting his head on top of her’s.

“I like the art.” Casey comments, gesturing to a seascape Bryce made at a Paint Night event when he first moved to Boston.

He guides her to the hallway, his arms not unwrapping from around her belly. “Guest bathroom there.” He shows her the small bathroom briefly before leading her to the master bedroom. “And this is where you’ll be spending most of your time here.” He explains, letting go of her so she can walk around the room.

“So Taina is sleeping on the couch?” Casey asks.

Bryce nods. “It’s a 1 bedroom, and I definitely wasn’t taking the couch. I’m the only one paying rent around here. Taina has been here for almost 10 months already. I’m hoping she’ll get on her feet and find her own place soon. She’s on a waitlist for some post prison housing program in Honolulu, so hopefully that will work out.”

Casey nods to show she’s listening, picking up a framed picture of the two of them apple picking from his dresser. “I bet you’re excited to have your space back.”

“You have no idea.” Bryce mutters, and Casey laughs. “I wouldn’t mind sharing my space with you though, if you’d want to move in.” He offers tentatively.

Casey smiles, walking back over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “My oh my, we’re taking so many relationship steps today.” She teases.

“Well, this one is just practical. We basically live together now anyway, but we’re paying rent on two separate places. That makes no sense, being as poor as we are.” Bryce replies.

“If this is about being economical, then you should just move in with me and my roommates when your lease is up. Splitting the rent 6 ways will be a great deal.”

“True, but the privacy of our own place, just you and me, might be worth some extra cash.” Bryce insists.

“Hmm…and what are you planning on doing with this privacy?” Casey whispers, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

She laughs when he tosses her over his shoulder, carrying her over to his bed.

…

“Your bed is so soft.” Casey mumbles afterward, head resting on his chest.

He plays with the edge of one of her dark curls. “I got a great deal on it at Macy’s.”

“Hmm…this might clinch the deal on me moving in.”

Bryce kisses the top of her head. “Perfect.”

…

Taglist: @octobereighth @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm @goldenjellyfish12 @pessimystic-fangirl @mimikoasahina @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @god-save-the-keen @caroldxnvxrs @cora-nova @emceesynonymroll @choicesgremlin @anxious-arliah @cordoniasmost @lahelable @ohsnapitzlovehacker @crispycrunchyleaves @debramcg1106 @emichelle @desireepow-1986 @lilyofchoices @liyanin

#bryce x mc #open heart #choices fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela

156 notes · View notes

rtenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

home again- b.h (part 5)

Ben Hardy X OC

word count: 1k

home again playlist (ben)

home again playlist (ches)

Summary: Ches tells Emily whats been going on with Ben and later sees Babe at the supermarket.

Disclaimers: This plot and characters are fictional (excluding Ben) and from my own mind. In no way does the Ben in this story portray Ben in real life. Grammar and spelling errors.

May 21

These damn birds.

Every morning the same two birds fly onto the balcony off to the side of my bedroom, coincidentally right next to my bed, and chirp. It’s like they want to annoy me because every time I get up they just stop.

Conversation ended. Just like that.

My god.

I flip over and sigh, not wanting to get up. After I rub my eyes for a good 20 seconds I reach for my phone. Clicking it I expected to see a message from my mother but what I actually saw was one from Ben.

“Hey, thanks for having me over. Call me when you see this? X”

I call Emily instead.

“Hey stranger, where’ve you been?”

“Here in my bed, thank goodness we have off today.”

“I know. So. Let’s get right to the point then shall we? How has it been having Ben around again? I was shocked when he came to see you the other day.”

No cutting corners with Emily. Ever.

“Yeah… it’s been nice.”

“Ok… elaborate.”

“Well he ended up coming back to my flat-”

“Oh my gosh you did not! Shut up tell me everything-” Emily gasps and starts to yell.

“Emily no! It was not like that psycho. We came back and ate, that was it.”

“Boring. How was dinner with your family, I’m still mad you never told me about that bitch.”

“It was fine.” I lie.

“I can tell you’re holding back. I’m not stupid you know”

Jeez, she can even read me over the phone.

“We did get into it a couple of times…” I say in a small voice.

“Francesca, are you serious, about what? Why didn’t you call me immediately after? What right does this guy have to just waltz back-”

“Alright Em, I know. I was pissed too, but it’s over with.” I’m quick to shut her down, I really don’t want her to get worked up. Or call him out.

“I just told him how it hurt to see him out there living the high life and not even getting a call back. He understood though, and made me see from his perspective. No hurt feelings, seems like a win to me. But, well I don’t know. It got kind of weird last night…”

“Why?”

“I just- well I don’t know. He started to bring up that client I had, Barnett, and I don’t know, he seemed jealous? I don’t want to sound full of myself. But it was there, I could feel the shift in the conversation, it got nasty. Unless he was just fooling around and I got into my own head, honestly I-”

“Um no. He probably was. I see how he looks at you, just saying. Maybe he was jealous, why don’t you just confront him about it, don’t beat around the bush.”

“No Emily it isn’t like that. Anyways, it’s over with, I really don’t want to bring it up to him again.” Because I really don’t want him to admit he was jealous and let myself believe there was even a small bit of him that cared in that way. Is what I wanted to say but instead I changed the subject.

We’re just friends. End of conversation.

“What's new with you?”

She continues to tell me for the next hour how she found this cute little bar more on the outskirts of her town and the hot bartender that made “moves” on her all night. After that we hung up, both needing some breakfast and maybe a bit more sleep.

It was now 1:00 and I had dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the bathroom.

Call Ben back. My brain screams at me.

I had been avoiding it all day but honestly I didn’t really understand why. We were fine, the night ended off on a good note.

Move on Francesca, it already happened and was finished. Stop overthinking.

So instead, I texted him.

“Hey, just saw this, been cleaning all day. What’s new?”

Now we wait.

Boring.

I walk over to the fridge to grab something to eat but realize all I have is orange juice and celery.

Great.

Shopping it is.

I hate food shopping with a burning passion. I sat and considered driving to my parents and mooching off of them for some dinner but I honestly don’t have the energy.

Every red light I hit on the way to the store I checked my phone. No answer. I feel a certain anxiety coming on but I’m not sure why. My eyes keep going over, “Call me when you see this?”. My brain is practically a broken record at this point.

What does he need to tell me? Am I looking too far into this? Probably.

I can’t help but overthink, something I do constantly. But, if I don’t then I’m not occupied at all, and free time never leads to anything good.

As I enter the store I look at my phone one last time before I start to grab the things I’ll need for this week. Milk, peppers, apples, ice cream, pasta… I can’t reach this damn pasta.

It’s times like these that I wish I had some more height, or heels.

I feel someone behind me as they reach for the exact box of pasta I was going for. Man, is this guy kidding me.

“Looked like you need some help there Ms. Barrett.”

As I turn around I come face to face with babe.

“I keep telling you, it’s Francesca.” I say with a grin, snatching the pasta out of his hands.

“I was about to go all nasty ‘give me back my pasta dick’ on you, consider yourself lucky.”

“Counting my lucky stars. It’s so weird that I’m seeing you here, I was just about to call the office and ask if I could reschedule our meeting for the Monday of next next week.”

“Of course that is no problem, I’ll see when I can fit you in and get back to you. Why can’t you make it tomorrow?”

My eyes go wide.

“That was completely unprofessional. I'm so sorry, that is your personal business, not mine.” I rush out feeling very uncomfortable.

“No Francesca, it’s fine” He laughs before dropping his smile a bit, “I uh, I actually have a date.”

“Oh” I answer flatly, “well, Barnett, I’m happy for you and I hope it goes well.” I say, wanting to leave the aisle as the atmosphere suddenly seemed to shift.

“Hey, it was good seeing you. I’ll be sure to keep my Monday free, I’m really sorry.” He says as he places his hand on my arm, a look of guilt seems to run over his eyes.

“You too Barnett, I’ll let you know.” I say with a small smile and turn to go check out.

On the ride home my mind drifts as I think about Babe.

I thought maybe something was there. I’m just looking too far into it I guess. He was probably just being friendly at the office and I perceived it differently.

As I get home and make dinner I check one last time before I head to bed. No missed calls, texts, nothing.

Whatever, I’m not going to fall back into waiting around for him. I think to myself as I slowly drift into sleep.

AN: Hi!!!!!! Guys, I have had the worst writers block. I am so sorry for making you all wait because I know hw much it sucks. But...it’s back! I hope you all can understand how tough writers block can be (I’m sure you can). Thank you so much for reading a feel free to let me know what you think either through a comment or my message box (which is always open). I love when you guys message me <3 very sweet. I should have the next chapter out between thursday and next wednesday. Until then!

#ben hardy #pixie #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor #ben hardy x reader #borhap #queen #home again

7 notes · View notes

omgrachwrites · 6 years ago

Text

May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: OC x Loki

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: fluff, little bit of angst, mentions of blood

Words: 2198

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this first part and please let me know what you think! I love you all very much! xxx

Part One - Lady of the Forest

The ten year old prince of Asgard was perched at the window seat in the palace’s library; the sun through the stained glass of the window was casting dusty pillars of light over Loki’s head as he pored through his tome. He’d taken to reading in the library of late, he was nearly always solitary – sometimes his mother Frigga would read to him, the sun making her hair shine like soft spun gold.

Loki had hated being on his own at first, his best friend and brother – and the future king – Thor had started to join their father when he convened his small council despite Thor’s tender age. Father had said that it would be better for Thor to learn what it means to be a king sooner rather than later. Loki would never have to carry out the burden of ruling the kingdom when their father passed so Loki was never allowed to attend the council meetings.

Loki remembered when his mother had appealed to father, begging him to keep Thor from the council meetings until he was at least of aged. Father wouldn’t hear of it though and their quarrel had lasted for days.

The young prince was completely immersed in his book which a travelling merchant had collected from Midgard and he’d presented it before the princes as a gift. It was based in a land where magic was forbidden and the servant to the king was a sorcerer. The tale was wondrous and fraught with spectacles but one thing confused Loki. The Queen who was clearly married to the King was in love with one of the knights. He couldn’t understand how she could love two men at once. However, it was a detail that Loki was forced to overlook.

The golden gilded door to the library opened as quiet as a whisper and his mother was smiling at him from her place in the doorway. Frigga looked especially radiant today in swirling skirts of leaf green silks and her golden hair fell past her shoulders in elaborate curls. Not for the first time Loki reflected on the fact that he really didn’t look like his mother with his inky black hair and ice blue eyes but he knew that Frigga loved him all the same.

“Hello mother,” Loki spoke pleasantly as he lifted his eyes from the yellowed pages of his book, closing it with a snap.

“Hello sweetling,” Frigga smiled and placed a hand in her son’s hair, “I’m going for a ride in the forest beyond Asgard, would you care to join me?”

“I would be delighted mother,” he beamed, the enchanted forest was his favourite place to be, in every season, even when thick snow concealed the green blades of grass and the trees were stripped of their previously burnt orange leaves, “is Thor coming too?”

His mother’s face didn’t change but he saw the light dwindle in her eyes slightly and somehow he knew the answer, “he’s in a council meeting with your father darling, I’m sorry.”

Loki nodded as he placed his book back on the shelf and he refused to acknowledge his mother’s sympathetic eyes or the pain in his heart as he followed Frigga to the stables. The prince grinned as he rode his white pony at a steady pace, the warm air smelled of grass and the perfume of the summer flowers. Personally, Loki preferred the winter flowers, he liked the fact that they grew even when the climate was unforgiving.

Loki would never admit it out loud – it was a secret just for himself – bit he was almost glad that Thor couldn’t come. Even at his young age Thor was raucous and was always singing bawdy songs. Thor was far too loud for the enchanted forest; Loki could sense the magic that dwelled within the thicket of trees. Loki’s ears nearly pricked up as he heard the trickle of the babbling brook.

“Might I ride on mother? Towards the brook,” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the beautiful peace. The Queen graced him with a smile as she glanced to the small array of guards who had sworn to protect them.

“As you wish sweetling, but do be careful.”

With a quick promise and a beaming grin that reached his eyes he rode past the trees and into the clearing. With a startling feeling of shock he saw that he wasn’t the only one who had come to visit the trickling stream and see all the flowers in bloom. She seemed to be of an age with Loki, she was dipping her feet in the clear water.

She had long icy blue hair that reached the floor and the hem of her dress seemed to be purely crafted out of white roses. Her eyes were pointed at the top rather than rounded but what really entranced Loki were the pearly wings protruding from her back, glistening pink and green even in the shadow of the trees.

He’d heard of the Fae that lived deep in the forest but Loki had never thought to see one. Suddenly, his snow white pony snorted impatiently, tossing its thick mane. The fairy gasped in a sweet voice as she lifted her beautiful head to see Loki and she made to run deeper into the trees, gathering up her skirts.

“Wait! Please!” he blurted, finally finding his voice as he clumsily vaulted off his steed, “I’m not going to hurt you,” he held up his hands to show her that he had no weapons.

“You’re not?” she questioned as she narrowed her hazel eyes at him suspiciously but she seemed to feel safe enough to approach him slightly.

“Of course not,” he smiled at her.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice was sweet like warm honey.

“I’m Loki, Prince of Asgard,” he gave her a bow which she giggled at; it was hauntingly beautiful, just like music, “who might you be?”

“My name’s Mara.”

“Are you a princess my lady?” he asked, she was certainly beautiful enough to be one, “you are very fair,” he’d overheard Thor talk that way to the young ladies of the court, who had rewarded him with a blush and a giggle. Mara didn’t giggle again but a patch of pink spread from the apples of her cheeks, all the way to her ears.

“No, I’m not a princess, my prince,” she smiled.

The prince and the fairy were soon sitting side by side on the bank of the stream; Loki only rose from his place on the springy grass when his mother called out for him

“You will come back won’t you?” she asked in a hushed tone, looking apprehensive as if she had expected Loki to say no, “please don’t tell anybody about me.”

“I’ll come back and on my honour, I won’t speak a word about you,” he promised as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her hand and in the next moment he was gone.

True to his word, Loki came back to her as often as he could for the next few years, Loki only grew more handsome and Mara more beautiful. When they were fourteen years old Loki almost told her that he loved her. At fifteen they shared a kiss that was full of hesitance and childish laughter. About a week after his sixteenth name day he rode out to their secret grove, today was the day, he was going to tell the fairy that he loved her.

When he arrived at the grove he saw – which was most unusual – that Mara was not there, “Mara?” he called and his voice echoed, “Mara, please, this isn’t amusing!” once again he was met by silence. He called her name over and over until he was close to tears, yet she still wouldn’t come.

His heart leapt for joy when he heard a rustle in the bushes, “Mara?” he called again but this time he had much more hope in his voice. He heard a harsh giggle that sounded nothing like his fairy’s tinkling laugh. About a moment later two people came stumbling out of the surrounding bushes. He recognised the auburn haired girl from the palace and of course he recognised his brother who was lacing his pants back up.

When Thor saw Loki standing there, his eyes grew wide as he saw the thunderous look on Loki’s face, Thor had defiled the most sacred of places, “brother,” he began but Loki mounted his horse and shooting his brother a filthy look he rode away without a word.

When Loki had arrived back at the palace he felt empty and he vowed never to go back to the grove. He had once thought the grove blessed and beautiful but now he knew that it was cursed.

——————————————————-

Astrid sat by her high windows and looked out at the palace grounds, she saw the beauty of them and the sight of the albino peacocks patrolling but they didn’t fill her with joy as they normally did. All she saw was ghosts of but a week past. Her best friend and her handmaiden had been caught stealing from Astrid’s chambers.

Although she had felt devastatingly betrayed she still had pleaded with her mother to let the girl go without punishment. The loss of her job would be punishment enough. Surprisingly, her mother conceded and dismissed the girl though Astrid knew that mother would have taken a hand if she could. It was the customary punishment for a thief.

The princess had watched from her window as they carted away her former handmaiden. She did not cry though, she couldn’t, it was though all her tears had dried up before she could shed them. Instead, she drew the curtains around her bed and slept, never knowing whether it was day or night.

A soft knock came at the door of her chambers, “are you decent my lady?” she recognised the voice and she could almost see the smirk on his handsome face.

“Come in Erik,” she smiled as the door creaked open and she smiled at the handsome youth with fire in his hair and the stars in his eyes.

“The Queen requests your presence in her solar princess,” he offered her his arm which took away the slight sting that he’d not come just to see her. With a graceful smile she took the young knight’s arm and they walked down the long winding corridors.

“How have you been my lady? I was sorry to hear about the unfortunate situation with your handmaiden.”

“I was too Sir,” she replied bluntly, she truly didn’t know how she felt so she couldn’t possibly tell Erik.

Inside of her mother’s solar there was a pretty young girl who seemed to be the same age as Astrid. She was shaking from fear as she glanced about the room with its rich velvet tapestries and endless walls of books which had been the late King’s.

“We found her unconscious in the forest princess,” the Captain of the guard told her.

The girl’s golden hair was matted and Astrid saw with alarm that her face was bruised and bloody. Astrid hoped that the guards had treated this stranger gently. This was a time for the princess to be especially gentle and kind, slowly she glided towards the gold backed chair that the stranger was sitting in and Astrid took the girl’s hands.

“What’s your name?” Astrid smiled gently to show the girl that she was no threat, soft hazel eyes looked at her in fear then glanced around at the guards that were stationed around the room.

“Everybody out. Now.” She ordered and raised an eyebrow, almost daring the guards to challenge her, “you too mother,” the Queen was a kind woman but she had a rather stern face. The guards looked annoyed but they left without another word. However, Astrid’s mother gave her a proud look as she departed from the room.

“My name’s Mara, if it please you, my lady,” the girl whispered in a broken voice, “it was as the guards told you, they found me unconscious in the forest,” her eyes grew misty with tears, now that she’d started talking she couldn’t seem to stop, “I lost my family.”

Astrid felt saddened for Mara, “do you have anywhere else that you can go?”

Pearly tears fell from Mara’s eyes as she shook her head, “nowhere would want me.”

Mara seemed so distressed and exhausted that Astrid had to send for a healer to take Mara to the spare chambers so she could sleep. Later on, Astrid was feasting with her mother in the conservatory that overlooked the clear blue lake and the snow-capped mountains. The smell of summer wine was on the air and sweet music played.

“It seems to me that you are in need of a new handmaiden my darling,” her mother began, “and one that has nowhere to go and owes you her life seems to be the right one for the job. A sweet notion.

“I was thinking the same mother,” Astrid beamed, elated that she was finally thinking like a leader.

��—————————————————-

@theonelittleone @void-imaginations

43 notes · View notes

brittysaucefanfic · 5 years ago

Text

A Fate Unclaimed

Part 22

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

Yoooo I just realized I didn't post the new update on this story on tumblr and I am very ashamed. On the bright side I actually updated something! When I go through to fix this tomorrow I'll add an under the cut and the links but I'm lazy and tired. Lmao I won't keep you guys any longer. Let's go!

******

Lance stirs as the sun begins to set, and Keith is the first to notice. They had set up camp, which pretty much meant they just walked until they found a small plateau and hunkered down in an overhang. Shiro and Keith are the only ones awake, whereas Pidge and Hunk had passed out as soon it was clear they were all safe for the time being. They huddle close to Lance, one of his hands in each of theirs.

Shiro stands on watch at the edge of the overhang, a good few feet away, a sword pierced into the ground, hands settled over the hilt. He looks like a sentry, and Keith actually wishes for once he had some sort of artistic talent so that he could draw Shiro. Sadly, all of his skills lay with battle. Lance’s head shifts to the side to look at Keith, eyes still closed, tear tracks stained on his dirt covered face.

His eyes open to reveal a brilliant blue.

Keith and Lance have a tenuous friendship at best, but with the nonstop action the past two days, they haven’t had a chance to figure out which side of the scale they tilt towards. Friends or enemies. Even then though, a crushing relief surges into Keith’s chest. He’s lost a lot already, he won’t lose Lance, friend or enemy, doesn’t matter.

“Welcome to the land of the living sleeping beauty,” is the first thing out of Keith’s mouth. It doesn’t come out smooth whatsoever, and he feels his ears burn at the blurted pet name. He has never said anything like that. Not once in his life. There’s a silence for a moment, then Lance smiles, something slow that makes Keith’s pulse race just a little.

“Perhaps I’m still asleep if you’re using pet names now Samurai.” Lance mutters, he goes to sit up, but stops mid way when he realizes his hands are trapped. A soft look crosses his face as he eases free his hands, careful not to wake the demigods clutching onto him in their sleep.

“Lance, you’re awake.” Shiro says, easing over to the two of them, his shoulders losing some of the tension they had been holding as he stood guard. Shiro moves to sit beside the bundle of demigods so that he may look out for dangers.

“So it seems,” Lance muses quietly, smile slipping into a disturbed frown. The change is confusing to Keith, why does Lance seem so troubled? “How long was I out?” There is nothing in the way he asks it that seems out of place, but Keith still frowns when he senses something off.

“Only a day, thanks to Apollo.” Shiro says, and Keith is reminded that the wait wasn’t as long as it had seemed. To Keith it seemed like days. He’s never been the best when it came to patience, one of the many things Shiro bemoans about him.

“Apollo to the rescue? Did he,” Lance pauses. “Say anything?” It’s Shiro’s turn to look troubled. Keith realizes with a jolt that it’s so easy to read Lance’s facial expressions because they look almost identical to Shiro’s. Not his face, just the faces he makes. Perhaps if he imagined everyone to make the same expressions as Shiro, it would help Keith in his ‘social awkwardness’ as Shiro calls it.

“Yeah, Pidge asked why you weren’t claimed,” Shiro starts. “He said something about you not being for the Gods to claim yet."

The look on Lance's face tightens considerably, darkening. The conversation seems to have woken up the two sleeping beauties. Hunk stirs first, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with a yawn. Before he even opens his eyes, the first thing he does is straighten his slightly crooked orange headband, tightening it, then he reaches over to Pidge and goes to wake her up.

What's interesting to Keith is the fact that he doesn't shake her shoulder like one would expect. Instead he reaches underneath her chin and lightly runs his nail back and forth on her chin like she's a cat. Pidge scrunches her nose, then like lightning, she snaps her teeth at Hunk's hand. He pulls away like he was expecting it. This all happens with neither of them opening their eyes, and Pidge sits up grumbling.

"That's still unnerving you know." Lance says casually.

"Hey if it works it works." Hunk mumbles, still rubbing his eyes with continuous yawns.

"Lance can you hand me my glasses?" Pidge says as she stretches her arms above her head. Lance silently hands her the pair of glasses that are too big for her small face. Pidge is midway between slipping on her glasses when both Pidge and Hunk freeze and tense. Their eyes snap open almost simultaneously, and just as simultaneously they both screech Lance's name. Again, nearly simultaneously, they lunge at Lance and take him to the ground in a pile of limbs. Lance's breath rushes from him in an audible huff.

"Lance!" They yell, then Pidge's voice takes over Hunk's briefly.

"We thought you were a goner!"

Hunk then takes over the screeching. "Don't scare us like that!"

Lance laughs breathily, patting both of their backs with a groan and a wince. As they lean back away from him Lance rubs his once injured shoulder. There are still a few prominent black veins around where the wound originated, the last vestiges of the poison in his veins. The hole itself has closed, though ungracefully, looking more like a knot in a tree than skin.

It doesn't bulge prominently, but it's obvious that the skin healed far faster than it should have, leaving being a small raised knot. The skin twists around almost in a full circle, and with the black veins still prominent it isn't the nicest sight to look at. Keith looks away from the wound to Lance's face, locking eyes with a piercing pair of blue eyes. Lance offers him a small, tight smile and they break eye contact like it never happened.

"Yeah, I don't exactly plan on doing anything like nearly dying again." Lance says, then his lips form a grin that Keith might imagine to be a leer. "At least not until I've had sex first."

"Ugh!" Pidge cries out in disgust, shoving Lance back onto the ground as he cracks up laughing like a maniac. "You're deplorable!"

"Ooh that's a big word Pidgey. Good job! Such a smart girl you are!" Lance mocks, baby voice and all. She picks up a small rock and aims it at his head. Lance dodges with hardly a blink of surprise. Her face slowly drops the playful glare, and turns somber.

"We were really scared Lance. I-" she cuts herself off with a shaky inhale. "I've already lost my brother, but there's still a chance to find Matt. You- you nearly died. There is no return from death." She stops, not saying anything more, but the tears welling up in her eyes say everything. Lance gathers her in his arms and strokes her head, Pidge clinging onto him. Hunk, not one to be left out of an emotional hug, gathers them both into his arms, thick fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He cries silently though, nothing to hear but sniffles.

There's a moment of silence as Keith watches the three of them.

Something wells up in his chest, making him look away with a lump in his throat. Shiro's hand settles on Keith's shoulder, and Keith doesn't have to look up to know that Shiro is smiling at him in that big brother kind of way that he does.

"Okay that's enough!" Pidge snaps, squirming out of the group hug and settling herself on the ground with huff. She straightens her glasses and wipes at her eyes. "So, now that Lance is better do we need to start moving on to whatever it is we were sent on this quest to do?"

Suddenly it's business?

"Actually," Hunk chimes, wiping at his own eyes but still sitting with an arm around Lance. Pidge scoots quietly closer, so that Lance's knees and hers touch but nothing more. Lance and Pidge both hide their hands behind the touching knees for some reason. Are they a couple maybe? For some reason that image makes Keith want to separate them two with his own body. He doesn't, though, because that would be weird.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Hunk asks. "Like we have a map, but no clue on what the quest is actually about? Are we stopping a bunch of monsters? Killing some ancient evil entity? Fighting rogue demigods?"

"Rogue demigods?" Lance repeats, one eyebrow arched high into his hairline. Hunk shrugs defensively.

"Maybe something Macaria talked to you about will give us a clue?" Shiro hints at Lance, his usually top notch subtlety somehow not being put to good use. Lance looks away, at the ground, the hand not hidden behind his knee picking at the torn up jeans he wears. He shivers as a breeze picks up suddenly, and Keith realizes Lance is still completely shirtless.

Keith pointedly does not look away from Lance's face as he slips off his dark red leather jacket and hands it to Lance. He takes it gratefully and slips it on. Keith ignores the chill that racks his spine when another cool breeze passes. Lance is the one who almost died, Keith can suffer a little chill. Not that he hasn't done so before anyways.

"We talked about a few things, but not much about the quest. Though," Lance trails off. "I have a decent idea of what's going on."

"You do?" Shiro asks, surprised. It seems he never expected Lance to answer.

"I had a dream while I was," Lance swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing at his throat. For some reason Keith is enthralled with the movement. "Dying. A nightmare more like actually." They're silent as they wait for Lance to elaborate. "I was in Camp, and it was empty. Then a strange man spoke to me like he knew who I was. He said-" Lance pauses, hesitates.

"Well it doesn't matter what he said, but I think he plans to overthrow the gods. He showed me the camp in ruins, flames, and the camp looking like some Disney villain army encampment. The same thing with the Roman camp. As well as two others I don't recognize, but I'm fairly positive they were demigod camps. Of some kind." Lance explains. His face turns twisted like he's in pain.

"Do you have any idea who it is?" Hunk asks. Lance shrugs unevenly, one shoulder higher than the other.

"I don't know, I've never seen the man before but Coran gave me a- the journal!" Lance bursts out in panic surging to his feet, wobbling, then rummaging through all of the packs and supplies. The sudden burst of movement makes Keith flinch unintentionally.

"Journal?" Hunk asks. "What journal?"

Lance finishes off one pack, the contents strewn across the ground haphazardly, and moves onto the next in much the same manner. Lance mutters frantically underneath his breath. He forgoes taking everything out one at a time and just dumps the pack upside down. This one is clearly Hunk's pack as a bunch of random gadgets and mechanical pieces crash to the ground.

"Hey!" Hunk whines, though he doesn't sound that upset about the mess. More like he's concerned. Or worried. Or scared. Or a lot of things actually. Keith needs to learn how to read people better.

"Coran gave me a journal that seemed really important and necessary and I need to find it!" Lance says. Pidge is the one to cry out indignantly when it's her pack being turned over.

"Geez lance be careful! And have you thought to look in your pack first?" Pidge huffs. Lance pauses in his rummaging and looks for his pack, as if he had suddenly remembered he had one of his own. He dives for it like a volleyball player diving to save the ball from touching the ground. Soon Lance's stuff joins the mess.

His stuff isn't quite so unique compared to the gadgets in Hunk's pack and the computer and stuff in Pidge's. In actuality his pack almost resembles Shiro's, the first pack to be rummaged through. Shiro seems to have no concern over Lance going wildly through their stuff as he watches out into the darkness of night.

The flames of the small fire cast flickering shadows on the wall of the overhang, coating the entire group in an eerie glow. Once again Keith wishes he could draw, to capture the moment on paper. The way the fire dancing across Shiro's face makes his scar almost dance with it, his metal arm shimmering with the light. The way Pidge is cast in Hunk's shadows, and how Hunk looks looming and dangerous with the flames touching his dark brown eyes.

And Lance.

The way Lance moves so frantically through his pack, the flickering light making Lance's movements seem like he's moving through water. Like he is water. A form barely held together as a whole. It's makes his tan skin glow gold like Apollo's. His blue eyes nearly glow, white teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Dark hair twisting around his head in flashes of flame and flashes of darkness. Keith's red jacket like their own flames engulfing Lance's body.

Keith swallows thickly and looks away.

Somehow his eyes land on the very thing Lance is looking for. It's hidden beneath his jacket, now torn at the shoulder where Lance was injured, a dark red stain surrounding the hole. It makes sense that no one thought to look there. The jacket is pushed up against the wall in a heap, dark enough that it blends with the dark dirt and far enough away that the flames don't cast light upon it. The journal that peeks out from beneath is dark too, but the pale cream of the pages on the side is a bright spot against so much dark.

Keith eases up slowly, not wanting to cause any unwanted attention. Everyone's eyes are on Lance as he gives a short shout of frustration. Keith grabs the book before Lance can start making a mess of his pack too and stops Lance from going after it with a hand on his shoulder. He holds the journal out delicately, looking Lance in the eyes. His pretty blues are misty with tears that haven't fallen.

"Is this it?" Keith asks near silently. The misty look disappears from his eyes and he goes to grab the book from Keith. The movement at first is violent, reaching to grab the book and yank it from Keith's hands. Then as Lance settles his long fingers around the spine, their fingertips touching just barely, his movement slows to a crawl. He slowly takes the book from Keith's grasp. The brief contact wasn't a lot but it still sent hot tingles up his wrist.

"Thank you." Lance says. And then the charged moment snaps as their eyes look away from each other. Lance settles on the ground with a heavy thump and an even heavier sigh.

Keith returns to his place on the other side of the fire. The seating is no longer one sided though, the four of them no longer on one side and he on the other. Shiro, Pidge and Hunk still sit across from Keith, facing out into the openness beyond. But now Keith and Lance sit on the other side, next to each other, knees almost touching.

Keith is not a thinking type of person.

He doesn't think about his actions most of the time, he just goes for it and damned be the consequences. It's gotten him kicked out of many schools, thrown out of many foster homes, and unintentionally made him a bully or a victim. Sometimes (most times) he was the stronger one, making Keith the bully even though the other kids started it. Other times he was the smaller one and the other kids had the advantage so Keith became the victim.

So he's no philosopher, and he's no ponderer.

But it seems even Keith can make an exception. He knows he's not the brightest when it comes to other people. It's hard to understand the emotions and feelings on their faces, and the intentions behind their actions. He's not even used to being so thoughtful about what he isn't.

He's never before lamented he was a fighter and not an artist. He's never lamented that he sometimes can't understand other people unless they explain it to him in clear words. He's never lamented the fact that he's technically only ever had one friend, and that's Shiro. But now? Now he wants it all with a burning passion.

He wants to understand jokes so he can laugh with other people. He wants to understand facial expressions and body language so he can be the one to comfort someone else for once. He wants to have friends other than Shiro who won't just disappear when he gets too much of a burden.

There's always been a metaphorical line that separates him from other people. One that he tries desperately to cross but he can't see it. Only those on the other side know where the line is and refuse to let him cross into their world. Up until now Shiro was the only one who ever crossed the line to Keith. Now, just as Lance sits beside him on one side of the fire, so might he stand beside him on Keith's side of the line.

Or perhaps Lance has one foot on either side, ready to cross either which way but not decided on which side he would choose yet. Keith vainly hopes Lance leans to Keith's side, but he won't know until Lance crosses completely.

"So," Shiro finally speaks up, drawing the word out with a faint southern drawl. Shiro isn't southern, but Keith is. It makes Keith wonder if maybe Shiro picked up on Keith's barely there southern accent. If that's even possible. "What's so important about the journal?" Shiro asks.

"I don't know yet. I haven't read anything from it but something about the man in the dream made me think of Coran and subsequently the journal." Lance explains. He cuts himself off with a yawn before continuing. "Whoever he was though he was good at controlling my dream. He had me paralyzed, barely able to speak, let alone move. And he said something along the lines of him seeing my impending death on my soul."

"Huh." Pidge says, a hand on her chin in thought. "A son of Hypnos maybe? Since he could control dreams?"

"No," Lance says as he shakes his head. "He's too powerful. If he's a demigod, which is still unclear, I'd say he rivals the power of Shiro and Allura. I could see it."

That makes Keith curious, the way he said that. As if the power coming off of the strange man in the dream was something he could actually see. Something corporeal, something he could touch. His mouth is speaking before Keith has a chance to realize he's doing it.

"What do you mean by you can 'see it'?" Keith asks. Lance snaps his head to the side to stare at Keith with wide eyes, then stares at the journal in his lap, picking at the leather cord binding the pages closed.

"Uh, well." Lance stammers. "Okay so, you can't laugh at me. I swear I'm telling you the truth."

"Lance." Shiro says in a calming voice, finally looking away from the nighttime darkness. "You can tell us anything. We're your friends."

Lance stares at Shiro for a long moment, making the silence between the five of them grow tense. The only sounds in the air are the crickets and the distant howling of bobcats or coyotes or whatever big predator animals the desert have. Lance finally slumps his shoulders with a sigh.

"So ever since I was young I get these," Lance pauses to try and figure out the words. "Flashes of color around certain people, and it didn't really happen until I learned of my godly blood. Then it happened more often but I kind of learned to ignore it like it wasn't there. To the point where sometimes I don't even realize it happened again until after the fact." Lance explains. He starts drawing little runic designs in the sand that look vaguely familiar.

"I get them for everyone, or at least the demigods and Gods. Usually the color is muted gold, maybe with another color kind of mixed in. Sort of like auras? But not quite. Some demigods shine brightly, blindingly like Macaria and," Lance pauses and swallows thickly. "Shiro and Allura too. They all nearly blinded me the first time I saw them. The gods, or at least those I've met, which isn't many, all shone the brightest. First time I met Apollo I nearly passed out from being overwhelmed by the glow."

"Glow, as in what Macaria said?" Pidge asks tentatively. Lance nods.

"She knew what it was, and she explained only that it made me unique, that I was gifted due to my heritage. It's supposedly one of many things that are in my power that makes me stand above other demigods or whatever." Lance says, and Keith can practically feel the waves of bitterness rolling off of him. "And I'm sorry, by the way."

Lance looks up and eyes them all with a sorrowful look.

"Macaria she, she used the glow against me. Used it like Shiro and Allura didn't know they could." Lance says. Shiro nearly jerks back in shock.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asks.

"I mean, there's a reason I'm always hanging off of you two." Lance says wryly, a dry smirk quirking at his lips. "The glow, when it's bright enough, enthralls me. Makes me crave the close proximity to it. At least that's what Macaria said it was. She told me to learn to resist the thrall or I won't be a help on this quest, I'll only hinder it."

"But what does the glow mean? What's it there for?" Hunk asks. Lance goes to answer, then pauses, eyes wide and bewildered.

"You guys are making it sound like you believe me." Lance says. Keith tilts his head curiously to the side, eyeing Lance's profile.

"Why wouldn't we?" Keith asks. Lance looks at him and Keith stares into glowing blue eyes. "You said you were telling the truth, why wouldn't we believe you?"

"Exactly." Hunk says, nodding. Pidge hums her agreement.

"I've never known you to lie about something so important Lance. I doubt you would start now." Shiro says. Lance blinks and then smiles a tiny little smile.

"Thanks guys. But to answer Hunk's question I don't know. I don't think Macaria knows for sure either. She said she was the only person she's known for centuries who sees it until I was born." Lance says, a shrug of his shoulders. Then he wrinkles his nose. "And apparently she felt it when I was born too, which weirded me out so I changed the subject."

"Well first," Pidge starts. "Creepy. Second. Did she say anything else about what she does know?" Lance shrugs to her question.

"Just that the fates put her through hell in back a few times, even literally. That I should be careful of my own self and of others if I want to survive." Lance says. He throws it out there casually, but even Keith, antisocial Keith, can see the hard line of Lance's lips, and the tense set of his shoulders, the strain of his voice to stay casual.

"Anyways." Lance explodes out suddenly, jumping up and quickly repacking everything he made a mess of in no time flat. He soon turns on heel and places his hands on his hips. "I'm tired. Who has first watch? And no, Shiro, it won't be you. When I woke up you were standing watch." Lance says, beating Shiro to the punch.

Shiro actually pouts and concedes to Lance's demand.

What a pushover.

Keith goes to offer himself up as watchman when Lance glares him down. Apparently Keith is lumped in with Shiro on the whole being forbidden from taking watch thing. Seems it's up to Pidge and Hunk.

"I'll do it." Pidge says, standing with a languid stretch of her body. Keith winces as he hears her neck, knees, and fingers pop. Then she twists her body and her back pops too. Keith suppresses a shudder at the sound. He hates that sound. Why would anybody do something like that to their own bodies? "I've got enough sleep anyways. Y'all get some rest, I've got your backs."

Pidge then swipes up her weird boomerang blade thing and strides out to the edge of the overhang with a blanket, settling up against a rock and crossing her legs. She's a far more relaxed sentry then Shiro was, but Keith has no doubt she's twice as deadly.

Lance is the first to stride over to where he had been unconscious earlier as he healed, laying down and sliding the heap of a jacket underneath his head as a pillow. Hunk isn't far behind, and for that matter neither is Shiro, though he simply lays on his back where he had been sitting, arms beneath his head. Keith looks back towards Lance and freezes when glaring blue eyes lock onto him.

With a huff he slides onto his side to fall asleep, or at least pretend to.

Every time Keith peeks his eyes open Lance is still looking at him with a deadly glare. Eventually the allure of rest conquers and he's soon falling asleep to Hunk's snoring and Shiro's sleepy whistle noises he makes in his sleep.

"Goodnight Keith." Lance whispers and Keith doesn't have time to return it before he's falling under the veil of unconsciousness.

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

#voltron #voltron fic #lance mcclain #keith kogane #katie holt #pidge gunderson #takashi shirgane #shiro #hunk garrett #broganes #hunay #shadam #adashi #klance #percy jackson universe #greek gods #greek mythology #pjo!voltron

8 notes · View notes

bedbellyandbeyond · 6 years ago

Photo

Group

(Story Post)

“Nathan! Welcome, thanks for joining us. Make yourself comfortable,” Camilo said, as the werewolf walked into the room. He’d set up several chairs in a circle and some snacks and water on a table nearby. Marcita had come in and Yori too, whom Nathan was surprised to see. “Yori?” Nathan blinked as he sat down in a chair. “You’re pregnant too?” “Mmhm,” the spirit replied smiling. “Only for about a week. The doctor told me about this group thing and I thought it sounded like fun.” “Cool… At least I’ll know two people here now…” Nathan said. “And congrats. You must be excited.” Yori just nodded and folded his hands in his lap.

“Is this everyone?” Nathan asked. “No, we’re still waiting on two more,” Camilo said. “But they should be here soon. In the meantime, you haven’t met my sister yet, have you? This is Marcita.” Marcita waved from her seat beside Camilo’s. She looked like she was ready to pop. “Yes, you’re seeing double.” “Yeah, you’re… Geez, that’s trippy,” Nathan said trying not to stare. “I’m Nathan. Camilo and Korsgaard are my case workers.” Marcita smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for coming to my brother’s group. I just think it’s such a great idea, having this for you guys.” “So you’re pregnant at the same time as each other?” Nathan questioned. “Yes, but this is pretty normal for me,” Marcita said. “I’m actually a surrogate professionally.” “Oh, cool.” Camilo put a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “I figured Marcita would be great for the group since she has that experience. This is, what, your fourth pregnancy?” “Yeah,” Marcita said. “Though I won’t be the most experienced once Dari and Fay get here. Both of them have been pregnant more often than me.” “They’ve been pregnant more than four times?!” Nathan inquired. “Are they also surrogates?” “No, they’re a couple,” Camilo said. “It’s kind of complicated, but they have six kids and Dari’s expecting twins like you.” “Well, at least I'm not alone there...” A moment later, there was a knock on the door and Fay pocked his head in. “Ah, here we are. Dari, everyone's here. Come in and say hi.” He disappeared for a moment then reappeared dragging his husband into the room by the hand. Dari stared at the ground and waved. “Hi, thanks for coming guys,” Camilo said. “Dari, I don't think you've met Nathan or Yori yet.” “I haven't,” Dari muttered, looking up to assess the room. He seemed to ease in a bit when he realised how few people four was. “Hello... I'm Dari.” “Mon amour, let's go have a seat, hm?” Fay took him over to the circle and let go of Dari's hand to put two chairs together. “Are we late?” “No, no. We were just starting to introduce each other,” Camilo said. “So, uh, Nathan and Yori both teach the kindergarten years at APID E.” “Oh, that's right,” Fay said. “Dari, now isn't this perfect?” He turned to the teachers. “Our daughter will be starting school soon. So I believe you're just the right people for us to know. And, Yori we've met countless times through Lino but it's always a pleasure.” “Thanks. I like you too,” Yori said smiling. “And your husband is so cute, like you always say.” Dari blushed and punched Fay in the arm. Nathan leaned in to shake their hands. “It's nice to meet you. It's comforting to know there are other guys who have gone through similar experiences as what I'm dealing with now.” “I'm glad we can help,” Fay said. “Dari insisted on coming for just that reason. He wants to help out anyone who might be struggling in their pregnancy since he knows so much about it.” Dari crinkled his nose but didn’t say anything. “Okay, so we're all here now,” Camilo said, smiling. “And we've greeted each other, but maybe we could go around the room, say your name again and maybe...how far along you are? And like, something interesting about yourself.” “Sounds good,” Fay said. “I can start. I am Fay Demers. I am not currently pregnant but I have been through four pregnancies, the last of which was for the birth of our third child, Otter.” “Thanks Fay,” Camilo said. “But, um, I can see Nathan's a little confused so could you elaborate on the fourth pregnancy topic?” “Sure. So as a merperson, my species numbers are dwindling, so it's our tradition to reproduce as soon as we're able which is eased by the notion that a caregiver will take care of them for us. I had three pregnancies and sired five children back home before coming to the surface. When I met Dari though, we started our own family, and I got pregnant for our third child.” “Oh okay, that makes more sense...” Nathan said. “So mermen can get pregnant like that?” “Yes, though our fertility window is a lot smaller than a female,” Fay said. “Otter was my final pregnancy. I'm not fit to bear any more.” “Oh. Okay... That's cool to know,” Nathan said, suddenly transfixed on the merman. Fay noticed the way he was looking at him and chuckled. “Nathan, Camilo put out these snacks for us. Why don't you have some juice?” “Juice?” Nathan looked down at the table in front of him and found the bottles of apple and orange juice and grabbed an orange juice to drink. His mind cleared quickly after that. Fay leaned over and placed a hand on Camilo's shoulder. “Good call on these refreshments.” “Well, I was your assistant,” Camilo said. “Yes. Such a smart one.” Fay leaned back and took Dari's hand again. “Love, why don't you introduce yourself next?” Dari blinked a bit and squeezed Fay's hand tightly. “Okay... Um, I'm Dari Demers... I'm five months along, twins, and...well I can get pregnant because I was abducted by aliens and they did experiments on me.” “Um, just so we all know, it's not necessary to explain why you're capable of conceiving,” Camilo explained, eying Nathan. “If you want to, that's fine, but Dari, I'm sure there's more to you than that.” “Well, I mean, that's probably the most interesting thing about me,” Dari said. “...If I had to think about anything else I'd probably say...I like to garden?” “That's a good one,” Camilo said. “Yori, you're next.” “Ooh, okay.” Yori sat up straight smiling. “I'm Yori. I'm, uh, five days pregnant and an interesting thing about me is...hm...” “Wait, how do you know so soon?” Nathan asked. “Know what?” Yori asked. “That you're pregnant. After only five days.” “Oh. I just know things like that.” “I wish I could know that fast,” Marcita huffed. “It would make my job a lot easier.” “Oh, an interesting thing I guess would be that ice cream cake is my favourite type of cake,” Yori said. “Good choice,” Nathan commented. “That means I'm next,” Marcita said. “I'm Marcita Ferrer and I'll be due in two weeks. I surrogate for a living but I don't have any children myself. I am working on my masters in astrophysics.” “Wow, I wish I had the time and energy for a degree like that,” Nathan said. “When it's your passion, it lightens the lode,” Marcita said. “I'm sure I wouldn't have the patience for a teaching degree. I love tutoring Dari's son and I love that, but I couldn't imagine a class full of kids. I'd have a breakdown.” “You get past the breakdowns after a couple years,” Nathan joked. “I guess I'm next,” Camilo said. “Most of you know me pretty well, but anyway, I'm Camilo Ferrer, Marcita's anxiety boy clone, haha, and...um... Oh, I'm twenty-two weeks along. And an interesting thing about me, I guess, would be... I mean, I'm also in school to be an astrophysicist, but that's taken so, I guess... I haven't stopped craving mangoes since the beginning of this pregnancy.” “Mangoes are so good,” Fay said. “The whole concept of fruit is amazing.” “And that leaves Nathan,” Camilo said. “Last but definitely not least.” “Right. Okay, I'm Nathan Cassidy,” Nathan introduced himself. “I teach at APID E. I'm uh... Fourteen weeks pregnant and—” “Fourteen?!” Fay interrupted. “Are they quintuplets?” “Uh, actually, my condition makes my pregnancy go faster so I’m about the same way along as Dari and Camilo,” Nathan said. “But, yeah, I’m also having twins.” “Good luck. We’re a blessing and a curse,” Marcita said patting her brother’s shoulder. “Identical or fraternal?” “Fraternal, I guess,” Nathan said. “They’re different, uh… They’re just different.” “Ours are identical,” Dari said. “Saving the sexing for later.” “Cool, I’m excited,” Camilo said. “Nathan, do you want to finish?” “Sure. So, I guess the interesting thing about me would be…I used to dye my hair blond but now it grows out that way,” Nathan said. “That is interesting,” Fay said. “You’re definitely not a merman, but are you some other kind of terrestrial non-human?” “I’m human… I just have a condition,” Nathan said. “You can’t tell he’s a wolf?” Yori asked, looking to Fay. Nathan blanched and turned to Yori. “You…you know?” “…” Yori blinked and looked around at the group’s shocked faces. “I thought it was obvious. He smells so much like it.” “Yori… Not everyone has your canine sense of smell,” Camilo said. “That was private information…” Yori frowned. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realise it was a secret.” “What does he mean, you’re a wolf?” Dari asked. “Like…a werewolf?” Nathan nodded, getting really nervous. “…I understand if you don’t want me in the group.” Camilo frowned. “Nathan this is a safe space.” “Are you dangerous?” Dari asked. “Now, hold on, Dari,” Fay asked. “That’s insensitive.” “How? It’s an important question.” “Obviously if he is here, he’s not dangerous.” “No, it’s okay,” Nathan said. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid… I’m being treated. As long as I go to my room by eight tonight, I’m completely safe.” “Yes, Nathan's never once had a violent incident since he's been here at APID,” Camilo said. “Even if he did turn here in the group, he isn't likely to hurt anyone.” “Fay, I don't like this...” Dari muttered. “My love, you trust Camilo, don't you?” Fay said. “I don't want to insult this poor man by mistrusting his presence before we've even gotten to know him. Lord knows he’s likely already judged just by the colour of his skin.” “I’m not racist, this is werewolves we’re talking about,” Dari groaned. “Do you want to talk about this in the hall?” Fay asked. “Honestly, I’m not offended,” Nathan said. “I get it; I don’t want to be around werewolves either. I don’t want to have this condition.” Dari clenched his jaw. “Dear god… I’m putting up with a lot these days… I will try to ignore the fact that you’re a werewolf.” “Thanks,” Nathan said smiling a bit. “Honestly, knowing you’re having twins too makes me hope I can get to know you best. Makes me feel less alone in this.” “Well… I do have the most experience in this circle,” Dari said. “So I can understand that. But, I don’t like big groups so don’t… Don’t expect me to be all talk…” “Dari gets a lot of anxiety in groups,” Fay said. “I was hoping a small group like this though will help him get comfortable. Having a mix of friends and acquaintances just seems like a good start.” “I get anxiety too, so you’re not alone,” Nathan said. “I was pretty scared to come to this group thing, but everyone seems really nice here.” Camilo put his hands together. “I knew this was going to be a great group. Remember, everyone. We’re all different, we’re all going through different experiences, but we also will have a lot in common and the point of this group is to have a place we can talk out our feelings or share experiences knowing we can trust each other. I’m hoping this will be a benefit for all of us. I know it’s already making me feel better about some of what I’m dealing with just being around you guys, and we’ve barely started. So, please, enjoy yourself here, feel free to eat and bring snacks, and know we’re here for each other.” “I love it,” Fay said. “Camilo, thank you for arranging this.” “Yeah, it was a good idea,” Nathan acknowledge. “I love sharing a brain with you, hermanito,” Marcita mused. “Haha, thanks… So, uh, to start off the conversation… Marcita, why don’t you explain how you got into surrogacy?” “Sure, I’d love to.”

#lore #mpreg #Nathan #Camilo #Marcita #Yori #Fay #Dari

84 notes · View notes

honeycombandtea · 6 years ago

Text

made for the @itfandomprompts ‘first time’ prompt!

warnings: none

pairings: reddie, stanlon (if you squint)

summary: The Losers enjoy a hot day by the water, but Eddie has some internal conflict about one of his best friends.

“Jesus, Eds! It’s hotter than your mother in a bikini out here,” Richie groaned as he slumped down underneath the shade of the tree. Eddie rolled his eyes and handed him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Put this on before you look like a lobster, dumbass,” Eddie said with a sigh. Richie held a huge grin on his face as he unceremoniously slapped sunscreen onto his freckle-kissed shoulders. Bev splashed in the water just a couple of feet in front of them, close enough to even sprinkle water on Eddie’s legs as he attempted to dodge a rather big spray. Ben held her securely on his shoulders as they charged around the quarry, Mike and Stan tailed after them. Albeit Stan looked reluctant as all hell—his knuckles white around Mike’s broad shoulders. Ben swooped down and planted a huge kiss on Beverly’s cherry red lips. Richie gagged.

“Save room for Jesus!” Richie called from his spot in the grass. Beverly had spared a moment to flip him off before she crawled back on Ben’s shoulders. He bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s in a sloppy movement. “Don’t you think all this romance stuff is gross?” He asked with a snort as he wriggled his toes in the grass. Eddie shrugged his shoulders and took a long drink from his water.

“You were just dating someone a month ago, Richie,” Eddie reminded with a chuckle as he bumped his shoulder back. Richie made finger guns in response and reached down to the small bag he brought with him. He pulled out a frosted looking coke and a cosmic brownie, and without having looked, he tossed it back to Eddie. “Thanks, Rich!” Eddie said as he tore the plastic open. “These are my favorites.”

“Yeah, I know,” Richie stated easily as he took a drink. Eddie watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You can pay me back by letting me have some alone time with Mrs. K.” Eddie snorted and lightly kicked Richie’s shin.

“She wouldn’t go for you— and she’s been blind dating for years,” Eddie said with his eyebrows raised. Richie feigned a look of betrayal as he flopped down onto the dark grass. Derry was known for having mild summers, but this one was a scorcher. Nearly every day in June the Losers found themselves in the cool, almost comforting, water of the quarry. Eddie wasn’t allowed to go most days, but Richie had helped him come up with an elaborate lie about summer homework and studying. Truthfully, this summer Eddie had found himself studying the way Richie’s eyes crinkled up when he laughed; or how his cheeks were furiously dusted in freckles from the sun. At best, these feelings made him feel weird—even kept him up at night sometimes—at worst, they made him sob hot tears into his pillow. He shook his head as he leaned back against the bark of the tree. This was something he didn’t need right now.

“Earth to Spaghetti Head!” Richie called from beside him. Eddie’s head snapped in his direction almost immediately. “Whatcha thinking about, Eds?” He asked as he lazily shoved his glasses back up on his nose. From the quarry in front of them, they could hear the noises of Bill being shoved in the water. “Get him, Ben! Put him in a world of hurtin’!” Richie called as he stretched to look over his shoulder. Eddie rolled his eyes and he pulled his knees to his chest.

“Don’t call me that,” he said half-heartedly as he curled his toes into the blanket. “I’m just…thinking about college.” Richie sighed as he scooted closer, the warmth from his body almost radiated onto Eddie’s skin.

“We’re not even staring senior year yet,” Richie said as he spared a glance towards Eddie. The sun made his brown eyes shine like raw amber—Eddie had to look away to spare himself the guilt. “There’s time to just be dumb,” he tried again as he put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He flinched from the sparks that crackled as their skin brushed together and scooted away. Richie’s hand dangled in the air for a few awkward seconds before he placed it in his lap.

“You’re always dumb, Richie,” Eddie said with a smile as he stared at those bright eyes. Richie stared back at him for a few moments, as if he wanted to say something, but he screwed his eyes shut and laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m dumb until I’m helping you pass calculus, Eds,” Richie said as he jabbed his fingers into Eddie’s side. He squealed with laughter as he flopped back on the blanket with a soft thud. Arms flew out and tangled together as they both wrestled around under the shade of a massive Birch tree. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie laughed as he pinned Eddie’s arms above his head. Eddie shook his head rapidly in response and tried to fight back a smile.

“Get off!” He gasped with laughter. The silence from above filled him with a sudden shot of panic. Eddie opened his eyes hastily to see Richie as he stared down at him, his lips parted slightly. The dark curls that made up Richie’s hair hung loosely around his jaw like a frame for a painting. His chest moved with every breath, every exhale and inhale. “Rich?” He asked softly as he watched Richie’s glasses slip further down his nose. “Richie, your glasses—”

Richie moved off him swiftly and shoved his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. The silence between them was thicker than the dense summer air. “You had somethin’ on your nose,” he said with a small grin as he flopped back on the grass. He looked like he was conflicted with something, but Eddie didn’t want to push it.

“Right,” Eddie said back. Bill wrapped a towel securely around his waist as he sat down next to Eddie. “Hey, Bill,” Eddie greeted with a little wave.

“Big Bill!” Richie called as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Looking absolutely delish today. Is that a new chest hair?” He asked as he rose his eyebrows up and down. Bill moved his towel rapidly through his hair to semi-dry it.

“B-Beep beep, R-Richie,” he said with an eye roll. “H-hey, what happened t-to you and S-S-S—”

“Stacy,” Eddie supplied for him. Bill gave him a grateful smile.

“I dunno, she didn’t wanna deal with my huge wang,” Richie supplied with a cackle as he fell back on the blanket. Bill sighed as he leaned his face into his hand.

“I h-heard y-you didn’t even k-k-kiss her,” he accused with a slow smirk. Richie’s face looked shocked—then horrified. He quickly sat up and strangely enough looked at Eddie.

“We kissed!” He squeaked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I couldn’t get her off me, that dog.” Bill gave him a knowing look as he flicked his eyes to Eddie.

“H-have you k-kissed anyone, Eddie?”

Eddie choked on his drink of water and spat it out on the grass. His tanned face was a light pink as he flushed to his ears. “I mean…not really,” he admitted with a glare in Bill’s direction. Bill looked over his shoulder and called to Stan.

“S-S-Stan! W-we leaving s-soon?”

Stan walked over, bird book clutched under one arm, and tossed a wet curl from his eyes. “Everyone’s packing up, so I’m leaving you to connect the dots, Bill,” he quipped. Richie blew kisses at him and made loud smacking noises with his lips. Stan made gagging noises in response.

“I know you love me, Stan the Man!” Richie said with a cartoonish wink. Bill got up and wiped the loose grass from his legs.

“We’re h-heading back t-to mine f-for movies and p-p-popcorn. You in?” He asked with a child-like smile. Eddie frowned as he scratched his cheek.

“I would, Bill, but my mom said I had to be back before dark,” Eddie whined as he stuck his lips out in a pout. Bill gave him a small reassuring smile as he turned his attention to Richie.

“I’ll stay with Eds a little while longer.” Bill shrugged and took off with the rest of the group up the hill and towards his place.

“See you guys later!” Mike and Bev called as they followed behind the others. Richie blew them all a huge kiss, and Bev eagerly caught it in her fingers. The summer breeze wrapped itself around them like a friendly embrace. Eddie began to pick at the grass as he struggled with something to say.

“Is it true?” He asked as he lifted his gaze to Richie. He peered up at the clouds with an almost a sad glint in his eyes. “About you not kissing her?”

“What would you do with the answer, Eds?” Richie asked as he looked back at him. The breeze wrapped around his curls and tugged them any direction it pleased. Eddie watched as the chocolate color turned almost honey-like in the sunlight.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said softly as he stared helplessly at the boy in front of him. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky; the world around them descended into orange thanks to the light of the evening. It was like a moment caught in pictures or detailed in a canvas.

“I’m saving it for someone,” Richie said. His face wasn’t crinkled up in the way it does when he’s joking or playing around. This was a rare moment that Richie Tozier expressed exactly how he felt. Eddie found it hard to breathe, almost as if he needed his inhaler again. Why did he feel that way? He hadn’t in years.

“Maybe…” Eddie started as he bit down on his lip. “Maybe I am, too.”

Richie wiped his hand on his swim trunks and leaned closer to Eddie. He smelled like coke and nicotine, like all the things Eddie’s mother hated, and Eddie loved it. He drunk it in like it was a drug—he needed more. The space between them became smaller and smaller until their noises bumped clumsily together. Richie let out a tight-sounding chuckle.

“Watch where you’re going, mister,” he chided. Eddie rolled his eyes and quickly licked his bottom lip. He didn’t miss how Richie followed the motion. The two boys stared at each other for seconds on end.

“You just going to stare at me?” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes. Richie gaped back at him with a flush high on his cheeks, so Eddie decided it was now or never. He grabbed onto Richie’s shoulders and collided their mouths together in a messy kiss. Richie tasted like chocolate and the warmth of holding hands in the dead of winter. His hair beneath Eddie’s fingers felt like ropes that held him onto this moment. Held him steady and calmed the fear that he knew he’d deal with after. They pulled away, breathless and red in the face, and laughed. Richie wiped a tear from under his glasses and giggled away.

“That was good, Eds. Your mom was better, though.”

“I hate you, Richie. You know that?” Eddie asked as he curled his fingers around Richie’s with a squeeze.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Richie said as he squeezed back.

None of the Losers were surprised when they started dating the very next day, but especially not Bill Denbrough.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it fanfiction #IT oneshot #oneshot #prompt #My writing

148 notes · View notes

notsugarandspice · 6 years ago

Text

get you out my mind

eeeeee, I love my Losers so much, and I love Beverly, and I love cute flirty boys playing nurse just AH ♡

Not Rated, Meet-Cute, Skater! Eddie, Richie is in a private school & is #miserable, pretty Cali life, playing nurse

Read it on AO3.

Eddie hasn’t been able to sleep for a whole week. It all fell on him like a vicious monsoon in the middle of an open field. No hopes for cover.

It was just another sunny day, dreamy and pleasant, like most Cali days. The ocean had a pretty glisten, it wasn’t too crowded at the skatepark because the weather was more chilly than usual, and Bill agreed to go out instead of playing video games, which had recently been his favourite occupation. Eddie couldn’t understand for the life of him why a teenage boy would want to stay indoors. Well, he kind of could.

He used to sit at home a lot in elementary school. That’s all he did, really. His mom was overbearing to the point of insanity, and she refused to admit she had a problem. She and his dad were teetering towards divorce when Sonia’s diabetes finally made itself known, giving her a heart attack she couldn’t recover from. She never went for check-ups but loved taking her son. Eddie was only ten back then, he couldn’t remember a lot, but he never missed his mother as much as he probably should. The only memories of her he had was a lock in his door and a bottle of cold medicine that he didn’t need on the bedside drawer. And their constant fighting. As much as he hated to think it, everything was better now.

He flips over to his side, watching the way the drying laundry flops outside his window, uneasy with the morning wind. The Sun just started peaking over the horizon, Eddie can tell by the slightly dim light in his room devoid of curtains. He’s been tossing in his bed for the last thirty minutes, trying to calm his mind enough to let him get another half an hour of sleep. It obviously wasn’t happening. Nada. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the dark-haired guy out of his head.

He could never understand the whole thing with crushes. Eddie doesn’t fall for random people. It just doesn’t happen. Until last Friday, that is. The guy really didn’t try to stand out at all, quite the contrary, he was in his uniform, with a book in hand, occasionally glancing at the beach, all forlorn and beautiful. But something about him exasperated Eddie as if Richie was placed on that beach to personally taunt and distract him, all plans of peacefully skating totally ruined. The moment he saw Bill talking to someone on the bench (Bill’s board always ran away from him because he never listened when Eddie said you need more practice before you go crazy) he couldn’t shake the image out of his head.

Richie’s curls sticking out of the hair tie, blue eyes that seemingly changed contrast mid-conversation, all the freckles on his nose and lips. It’s like the image of Richie’s face was permanently stuck behind his eyelids, and the sounds of his slightly croaky voice, and the way that blue polo shifted around his chest when he shimmied on the bench, embarrassed about every adorable thing he’s said. It’s been a week, and Eddie still can’t get him out of his head. They talked once. This is getting ridiculous.

Eddie sits up tapping his foot on the floor, lost in his head completely. He goes to the bathroom on autopilot, rubs his face with cold water and moves down the stairs. Everything is starting to take shape as sunlight slowly creeps upward, all pretty and golden, and Eddie smiles before turning into the kitchen, an image of that shade on Richie’s skin perfectly clear in his mind. Frank is already there, sipping his herbal tea, wetsuit covering the lower half of his body.

“Aren’t you running late?” asks Eddie kissing his dad’s cheek.

Frank puts down the tea smiling and ruffles Eddie’s hair fondly. “I gotta pick up Marcy from her house so we can go together.”

Eddie opens the fridge door and rolls his eyes. Sometimes, Frank Kaspbrak is a tad too generous. “Dad, she lives in Malibu.”

“So? It’s barely a forty minute drive.”

Eddie takes out orange juice and pours himself a glass. “Yeah, if you go at five in the morning. And it’s not anymore, so you’re already late.” Frank looks at his son for several seconds, and Eddie eventually meets his eyes. “What?”

“You’re fussy, is all. Like your mama.”

Eddie’s eyebrows instantly draw together. “I’m not fussy. And don’t compare me to her.”

Frank cocks his head to the side in that parental manner that indicates that he’s crossing the line. “You don’t need to get like that anytime I bring her up.”

“Then don’t.” Eddie finishes the glass and puts it into the sink.

“I made you avocado toast,” says Frank, pointing at two pieces neatly placed in the frying pan.

Eddie smiles fondly and hugs his dad from the back, burying his face in his back. “You didn’t have to.”

Frank laughs and taps Eddie’s hands around his belly. “Sure, kiddo. You can’t keep eating Clif bars for every meal.”

“They’re good.” Eddie lets go and grabs the plate, headed towards their cozy back porch. He hears Frank say good doesn’t mean healthy and opens the screen door, the scent of the ocean making his stomach flip with excitement. He can just see a sliver of the dark blue water between a couple of houses several streets down. He might be able to go skating early if Bill doesn’t come up with another elaborate plan to stay indoors. Not that Eddie needs the company that much, but it’s always fun to go with someone else. And Beverly usually works every day of the week. Her showing up last weekend was a goddamn miracle.

He’s halfway through the first toast when Frank pushes the door open, a bottle of water in hand. He places it in front of the plate just when Eddie gets the first hiccup. “Right on cue.” He kisses the top of his son’s head and grabs his sunglasses from the table. “I’m out. I’m going to stop by the store later. You need anything?”

Eddie hiccups again and irritably slams the fist on the table. “No, should be-“ hiccup “DAMN IT- fine.”

Frank puts the fist out, and Eddie bumps him quickly before emptying half the water bottle. His throat calms by the time Frank leaves, but his mind drifts back to Richie and the irrational fear of never seeing him again. Don’t live that close. He might not ever come to that beach again. Eddie wallows in self-pity for ten more agonizing minutes before he decides to check the extent of his weekend homework. He might be able to finish everything before he goes out tonight.

—

Naturally, Eddie didn’t anticipate the amount of work that needs to be done by Monday, and since he has very serious plans for the rest of the weekend, he forces himself to complete most of it, excluding the reading that he could cram in before he goes to bed. By the time he finishes everything, it’s almost 5:00 PM and he picks up the phone to call Bill. He responds right before Eddie hangs up, already on the front porch to head out.

“Hello?”

“Bill? How long does it take to answer the phone?”

Eddie can hear the background music of a video game, and he knows the call is hopeless before he asks. “I’m buh-buh-busy.”

“Busy sitting on your ass? It’s Saturday. You really gonna stay home?”

“Did you call in t-t-to be my mom?”

Eddie drops the board to lock the front door. “Wow, mature. You really not going to show up?”

“Dude, I’m on the graveyard l-luh-level. I’ve been stu-uh-uck all day.”

Yeah, like your ass is stuck to that bean chair. “You really think it’s going to take you five more hours to finish it?” Eddie pushes the board forward and runs up to jump on it, swerving on an empty road.

“Have you ever played a v-v-video game, Eddie? -FUCK!”

“You know I have. Whatever, this is pointless. You know where I’ll be.”

“Sure. Have f-fun.”

“You too, Billy.” Eddie rolls his eyes and puts the phone in the pocket of his overall shorts, speeding up to grab a smoothie on his way to the skatepark.

He gets to the café across the street from the beach and orders the pineapple strawberry smoothie and asks to add kale, thinking that dad would be proud to see him trying. What he doesn’t need to know about is a mint chocolate Clif bar in one of Eddie’s pockets. The less you know…or something.

Eddie waits for the walking light to turn on while he sips on his smoothie, trying to make out the people at the skatepark across the road. He can’t see anyone he’s close with, just a couple of people from school he sees in the hallways. The light changes and Eddie is already halfway done with the drink, silently cursing himself for being a fast eater. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and by the time he makes it to the other side, he’s battling light waves of nausea. And somehow, he still feels hungry.

He rolls through the skatepark to the sidewalk that leads to the beach, the sun still bright and warm in that particular May-California way. Eddie stops the board right before the sand, throws out the nearly done smoothie, and quickly takes the yellow Vans off. He walks barefoot towards the lifeguard post, his beady ankle bracelet shifting pleasantly as he moves. Eddie remembers the time when he hated the beach when the feeling of the sand between his toes seemed foreign and disgusting. Then Frank took up surfing and took his son with him every day. Now it’s home. Venice is his little getaway, a small paradise a mere mile away.

He gets to the post and drops his shoes on the first step, carrying the board to the top to make sure no one nicks it. Eddie knocks on the door and smiles wide when Mike opens it almost immediately, chewing on an apple. He waves Eddie inside and sits back on the chair. Eddie immediately grabs the large binoculars and looks over to the ocean, noticing a young couple slashing in the waves, happy and drunk judging by the redness on their faces.

“You’re late today.”

“Yeah, I had so much shit to do.” Eddie puts down the binoculars and climbs up to sit on the table, turned sideways to Mike. “Exams are in a week, and they all collectively decided to fail us.”

Mike snorts and takes another bite, looking off at the water longingly. Eddie sees his strong want to just go and surf as soon as he’s off which should be in less than two hours. Eddie takes the Clif bar out of his pocket and bites off almost half of it at once, much to Mike’s delight. He stifles giggles and picks up his phone to take a photo of Eddie with a mouth full of chocolate oats. Eddie pretends to dislike the attention.

Eddie is kind of grateful he doesn’t have Bill with him today - Bill and Mike had a fling last year that ended in their collective inability to hold a serious relationship. As it turns out, neither was ready for it. And Mike was older anyway: if Eddie had zero patience with Bill, the other had even less. Fortunately, they didn’t act hostile towards each other, but there was still a grain of awkwardness anytime they hung out. So Eddie tries to stop by alone.

They talk for almost half an hour, completely lost in conversation since they haven’t seen one other for a solid month. Eddie invites Mike to tomorrow’s bonfire, and he happily agrees, doesn’t even ask if Bill’s going to be there.

Mike sees someone struggling to make it out of the raging waves, and he grabs a lifejacket, sprinting down the steps with alarming stability. Eddie huffs an incredulous laugh and hops down to his shoes, carrying them to that same spot Richie sat yesterday. He cleans off the sand from his feet, puts the shoes back on and smiles at the lowering sunlight, gradually moving towards the horizon. He has about an hour of light, and he intends on using it. Eddie runs with the board and lets it roll just before the bend, sliding down gracefully, feeling free and happy. A couple of guys who usually hang out there whoop him and he shoots them a thumbs up.

Eddie gets to the other end of the park and stands on top, fishing out his headphones. He plugs them in and turns on Feel It Still, tapping his foot on the board with the rhythm of the beat. He quickly shoots Bev a text hoping she’ll have a chance to stop by.

Eddie skates smoothy for about half an hour, warming up, feels his legs move with less effort now, feet gliding on the smooth surface when he pushes. He ollies onto the sidewalk, high and easy, his lower body moving on its own accord. Eddie rolls towards the clearing with the rails and practices his jumps, scaling them as he goes. There’s an especially long rail he’s had his eye on for a while now, taller than others and he has all the intentions to actually go through with it today. He practices on smaller ones for a while, long enough for the Sun to almost touch the horizon.

He takes a deep breath and finally collects the courage to attempt scaling it. He fails three solid times, skating away with zero to none contact before he manages to even go halfway. It takes him some time, but he finally does it right, feeling light and invincible. Eddie continues practicing as sunlight moves to hide behind the water, and more people start showing up at the park.

But he makes a small mistake when he’s on top of the rail for the nth time, thinking he’s confident enough to avoid looking at his feet even for a split second. He lifts his head to look out at the approaching pedestrians, hoping one of them is going to be Beverly jogging with her skateboard towards him. It would take him next to no time to register the red hair and look back down. But what he sees instead is a face he hasn’t been able to push out of his mind, haloed in loose black curls, same perfect black glasses. Eddie knows he’s not nearly confident enough on this rail do to shit like that, and that’s how he loses his balance, the board tipping too much on one side, the wheels catching on the metal, and his body somehow does a full 360 in the air before he smacks hard on his elbows and knees, miraculously holding his neck to avoid grazing the forehead.

Eddie doesn’t fall. Even the idea of it shocks him enough that there are several seconds of numbness and slight deafness before the world seems to resume and he flips over, groaning slightly. He starts feeling the blood pulsing in both of his elbows and one of the knees, on the heel of his hand, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes, still in a state of mild shock.

He’d laugh if this was a regular thing for him. If he fell every day, somehow landing perfectly well on the board, sliding away to other’s cheers. But this simply doesn’t happen to him, he’s too careful. He’s not scared of pain at all, not scared of falling, but rather the implications of open scratches, his blood mixing with the dirt on the sidewalk, the leftover sand from the beach mere feet away, all the ger-

“Fuck, Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie opens his eyes, somehow only now realizing that he’s been wrapped in himself on the ground for fuck knows how long. Richie is bending down in front of him, eyes wide and black eyebrows drawn together, the pink and orange of the sunrise reflected on his skin. He looks so beautiful that Eddie momentarily forgets what happened mere seconds ago.

“N-no,” he chuckles because his heart is stuttering and his mind is too occupied with this stupidly attractive and caring boy next to him that the pulsing in his elbows is replaced by the nauseating feeling of great, my crush just saw me fall on my ass.

Richie’s face relaxes slightly, and he takes something out of Eddie’s hair. Richie’s wrist comes close to his face, and he smells some sort of cologne. His whole body is buzzing. “Where’s your board?”

It takes Eddie a second to force himself to cooperate with the real world, and he looks behind him, seeing it at the end of the sidewalk, on the very edge of the park. He points at it, his elbow stinging harshly when it bends.

Eddie hisses, and Richie looks panicked for a second. “Wait here.” Nah, I’m not moving until you carry me to the ER in your noodle arms. The only form of transportation I accept. Richie runs towards the end of the park, jumping a little when a girl almost comes crashing into him, swerving at the last second. Eddie chuckles and just notices that Richie isn’t wearing his uniform (obviously) and has on some blue shorts, an open white button down and some nonsensical white boy t-shirt underneath. He looks amazing, clothes fitted well and hugging him all right. Eddie’s heart jumps when he sees the same style Vans on him, but in white, slightly dirty and dusty. Richie stops by the board to tie some of the hair in half-up-half-down, smiling back at Eddie bashfully as he does so. Wow, you’re so far gone, Kaspbrak.

“So, you’re Eddie?” asks a guy standing on the same spot Richie was earlier, arms crossed, a blank expression on his face.

“Huh?” Who the fu-

“Richie hasn’t stopped talking about you for the last eight days. He never stops talking, but it’s been especially annoying this past week.” Eddie looks at him in pure confusion, and the other’s face still doesn’t change. “I’m Stan, Richie’s friend from school.”

Oh. At least he introduced himself as a friend. “Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He tries to get up, starting to realize it might be impolite to talk to people in this position and leans on the heel of his hand, forgetting about the scrape there. He hisses and tries to lean on the other one when he sees an arm extending in front of him, slightly softer expression on the boy’s face. Eddie takes it with a smile, and Stan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, wiping his hands on the khaki shorts after. Eddie represses a snort, and he’s saved from some awkward small talk by Richie, who finally stops in front of them.

“Your board looks alright, no dents or anything.”

Eddie takes it out of Richie’s hands without so much as a glance at its condition. “I mean, it’s a skateboard…it would be weird if it didn’t have some scratches.” Stan snorts and connects eyes with Richie whose cheeks are tinted pink. Eddie feels himself figuratively melting into the ground. “Well, thanks for helping me. I think I’m gonna uber to the ER.”

Eddie gives the two of them an awkward wave, his stomach tumbling from the unwavering gaze of his crush. He chastises himself for ruining possibly the only opportunity to hang out with Richie. But not thirty seconds later there’s a hand on his bare shoulder, and Eddie turns, smiling when he sees black eyebrows drawn together.

“Eds, you don’t need to go to the emergency room.”

Eddie is momentarily offended, and he steps back slightly, feeling judged and mocked. But none of those things are reflected on Richie’s face, nothing but concern, really. He thinks maybe he’s overreacting slightly, but he can’t stop his brain from making a thousand scenarios of how this fall could result in an auto-immune disease or something. Not that that would be Richie’s fault. Eddie’s eyes fall on Stan who’s casually strolling towards them, his eyes searching something in the palm trees.

“Hey, are you okay?” asks Richie, grabbing Eddie by the elbow in the most gentle manner but one that still results in an embarrassing whiny sound. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie can feel the heat on his cheeks, and his heartbeat is rising again, either from the touch or the stupid sounds that seem to escape his mouth around this guy. Either way, he can’t stop looking at the way Richie’s curls hug his ears, or how his blush spreads all the way to his chest, and Eddie forgets the pain for a while.

“Um…my friend works at this café across the street. They have a first aid kit and everything. I could help patch you up,” says Richie with a hand on his neck and the sweetest crooked smile Eddie has ever seen. He’s pretty sure having Richie’s hands on his knees would quite literally give him a heart attack, but he nods nonetheless, too enthralled by the possibility of spending a little more time with the guy.

Stan finally makes it to their awkward little bubble and reaches something out to Eddie in an outstretched hand. It’s Eddie’s phone, seemingly scratched but miraculously void of cracks. I really need to get myself a phone case. “Thank you.” Eddie puts it in the pocket of his overall shorts, and when he lifts his eyes Richie is staring, a dopey grin on his face. “What?”

Richie’s eyes lift, widening a little from being caught. “Nothing, just…love the outfit.” Eddie would think he is being mocked if not for the quiet way Richie said it, and the prompt roll of Stan’s eyes that Eddie wants to think signifies wow, you’re so far gone, man.

“Thanks.” Eddie puts down the board but thinks better of it and grabs it back up. He doesn’t want to tumble in the middle of the crosswalk because of the stinging throbbing in his knee, and embarrassing himself in front of Richie for a second time is definitely not going to make him more appealing in the boy’s eyes. So he silently walks in front of the guys, turning only once to see Stanley smack Richie on the shoulder, much to the other’s chagrin.

Eddie knows this café well but has never been inside before. They have a small to-go window on the side where he always gets his smoothies, mostly reserved for soaking wet surfers who aren’t allowed indoors. Eddie opens the door and holds it with his sneaker, letting Richie and Stan in. Stan nods his head, and Richie salutes him, making Eddie giggle. He then falls behind, following them to the register.

The whole place is full of the cutest pastel colors: pale blue counters, baby pink and white walls, canary yellow tables. The atmosphere is peaceful, and Eddie easily recognizes Alina Baraz coming through the speakers. Everything smells like vanilla and tropical fruit.

Richie beats his fingers on the counter, imitating bongos and Eddie just notices how much more relaxed he looks in the company of his friend. It makes Eddie long to know that side of Richie, carefree and happy. He hopes to see that someday.

A man comes out the backdoor, yellow apron on, and his face instantly lights up upon seeing his two friends. He extends a fist to Richie, but the other leans over the counter to clap the boy on the back. The guy laughs, and his cheeks redden slightly underneath a growing beard. Stan only raises a hand to him and smiles, crossing arms behind him. He catches Eddie staring and cocks an eyebrow. Eddie steps in front of the pastry display case to avoid having a conversation with Mr. Unapproachable.

“Haystack, let me introduce you, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Ben.” Richie gestures between them and they wave at each other awkwardly. “Hey, do you still have that first aid kit in the back?”

Ben furrows his brows, looking at the expanse of Richie’s bare limbs. “What’d you hit this time?”

Richie sends him a finger gun and then gently turns Eddie’s arm to show a nasty scrape on the elbow. “Not me, this time. Eds needs some help.”

“Not my name,” mutters Eddie under his breath, looking at Richie from under his lashes. The other merely smiles wide, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. Carefree and happy, huh?

“Looks bad, Eddie. Here, follow me.” Ben waves a hand and goes to the other side of the coffee bar, lifting the opening for the rest of them to pass through. Only Stan hasn’t moved an inch, curiously studying the menu as if he’s never seen it before.

Ben pushes the backdoor leading to a small kitchen and further down to the freezers. There’s an office table right behind an enormous industrial sink and Ben steps on his chair to retrieve the first aid kit from the shelf. He gives the box to Richie, probably out of habit, and points to Eddie’s skateboard.

“Ah, you skate. That explains the…” Ben walks around Eddie to assess the damage, “three bruises. Damn. Happens a lot?”

“Not really. I don’t fall.” Richie snorts, and Eddie shoots him a glare.

“You need my-“

“No! I’ll help him. You go on, Benny boy, you have customers waiting.” Richie clutches the box to his chest, smiling wide, eyes darting between Eddie and Ben. Weirdo.

Ben lifts his arms in defense and huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say. Holler if you need me.”

He disappears behind the service door, and Richie turns to Eddie, lips twitching a little. “Um…you should probably sit down.” Richie points to the chair, and Eddie puts the board underneath. He tries to get comfortable, folding the hands in front of him but then his elbows bump into the jean fabric and he suppresses a hiss, putting his palms on top of the thighs instead. Richie leans in front of him, his chin on the bony knee, ruffling through the contents of the box somewhere on the floor.

“You get hurt a lot?”

Richie lifts his head with wide ocean eyes as if he’s half-surprised Eddie is sitting in front of him. “More than I probably should.”

“Why, because you don’t skate?”

Richie chuckles and the sound makes Eddie’s heart beat faster. “No, because you’d think I’d be in control of my body by seventeen.” He gets up and walks towards the sink, washing his hands. Eddie watches his face intently, seeing it relax and then go back to a contemplative state, and he wants to ask what the boy is thinking. I wonder if I make him nervous as much as he makes me. Richie bends down to pick up some tissues from the box and goes to wet them, settling back in front of Eddie after.

“Oh, um…you might wanna…they’ll probably get dirty.” Richie points to the Vans, and before Eddie has time to react, Richie takes one off with his left hand and puts it on top of the board. He fidgets on the spot with a clean wet tissue and decides to put it in the box while he runs back to wash his hands. Eddie wonders if he’s this thorough when administering his own cuts but he’s grateful nonetheless. If Richie touched his knee after touching his shoes, he might yell loud enough to scare all the customers.

“You know, you don’t have to do all this for me. I know how.”

“Thought you don’t fall?” He cocks an eyebrow, but his face almost instantly changes to something wounded. “Do you not want me to help?”

“No, I- that’s not what I meant. I just- forget I said anything.”

Richie leans in front of him in the same manner, and their eyes connect, making Eddie’s skin tingle. “Are you sure you want me to continue?”

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles in relief and picks the tissue back up. “Okie-dokie.” He gently presses on the knee, then rubs around it cleaning the dirt and the dried up blood. Eddie’s breathing gets slightly ragged when Richie’s face gets closer, his hand on the back of the knee, inspecting for debris. Richie wipes the small dry stripe of blood that trickled down sometime after the fall.

“You’re really good at this.” He is but the main reason Eddie speaks is to distract himself from the hurricane of inappropriate thoughts.

Richie smiles and a blush tints his cheeks as he absentmindedly wipes Eddie’s calf. “I guess. My own fault for falling so much.”

“Right. Like a baby giraffe.” Eddie can’t help but grin. That image hasn’t left his mind since last week.

Richie bashfully pushes his glasses up and folds the tissue in half. He goes to the side of the chair, looking over the wound on Eddie’s elbow. There’s one running down the forearm too, a lot more mild but stinging nonetheless. He wipes there too careful and slow, and Eddie feels his arms cover in goosebumps anytime Richie’s fingers connect with the skin. Richie goes behind the chair to do the other arm, and Eddie tries to listen to the sound of plunking water drops in the sink instead of the boy’s breathing. He can feel his back cramming and ass numbing from sitting in the same position, but he doesn’t want to be rude by moving or doing anything to accidentally deprive himself of Richie’s touch. Eddie patiently waits for his wounds to get cleaned and for Richie to crawl back to the front to finally shift on the chair.

Richie gently turns Eddie’s hand, wiping the scrape there. Eddie fights a smile when he sees the contrast of their skin and how small his hand looks in Richie’s. He spares a look at the boy’s face and the length of his lashes kind of takes Eddie’s breath away.

“Are you not gonna..?” Eddie points towards the small hydrogen peroxide spray in the corner of the box.

“Nah. I used to do it as a kid but I’ve heard it does nothing but irritates the skin, so…” Richie takes out a couple of bandaids from the box, assembling them on top of Eddie’s thigh. He smiles up and opens the first one, putting it on the upper half of the knee scrape.

“What’s up with Stan?”

Richie is so taken by the question that he loudly laughs, angling his face down to look at Eddie from above his glasses. “Is that a loaded question?”

“No, I just- He’s so…”

“Reserved? All don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-intimidating?”

Eddie cocks his head and huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. He has strict parents.” Richie opens another band-aid and fits it under the first one. “He’s always been like that.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

Richie moves to the side to put a little cross on the elbow. “Here, keep it bent- Um…probably since sixth grade? I’ve been in that school since elementary but Stan the Man joined in middle.”

Eddie hums, and a question slips out before he can stop it. “Is he a friend?”

There’s a long stretch of silence afterward, and Eddie wants to either swivel the chair and aggressively demand answers, or run until he gets to the ocean. Either way, he’s near a death wish at the moment. He stares forward, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you asking?” Richie’s question is a lot more mature and calculated than Eddie expects, and it throws him off for a second. What does he want?

“I don’t know. Just curious.”

Richie chuckles but doesn’t say anything, moving behind the chair to do the other elbow.

“What?” Eddie is growing exasperated, either with himself or Richie, or Richie’s proximity, or how nice it feels to have Richie’s fingers on his bicep.

“Don’t get defensive.”

“I’m not.”

Richie finishes the work and collects the wrap in the ball, walking to throw it out by the sink. “It’s cute.”

Eddie can feel his eyes widen to a laughable degree. “What’s cute?”

“Not what, but who.” Richie turns and nods towards Eddie who’s just about to explode from the last minute of rollercoaster emotions.

“I’m not.”

Richie sits on the balls of his feet to close down the box. He puts it on the table and stays in the same position to look at Eddie. “Is this a scenario where you expect me to convince you you are?”

Eddie leans forward, their faces now so close together he can feel the spearmint on Richie’s breath. He didn’t notice him chewing so it must be Altoids. He suddenly has the strongest desire deep in his belly to crash their mouths together. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Why did you ask about Stan?”

Eddie’s eyes dart towards Richie’s lips, pink and inviting. “Why did you ask why I asked?”

Richie laughs, and his head falls forward, so close to Eddie’s nose that he can smell the shampoo the boy used. “We’re doing this now, huh?”

“You didn’t answer.”

Richie lifts his head back up and stares at Eddie’s lips for a while before responding. “Stan’s just a friend.”

Eddie grins wider than is probably socially acceptable and slaps both hands on his thighs, making Richie laugh. “I knew it!”

“You seem excited.” Richie grabs the shoe from the board and puts it under Eddie’s foot. He slips it on, and Richie helps him with the heel. He doesn’t miss the ankle bracelet, and he moves it up and down before looking back up at Eddie.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Eddie doesn’t know if it’s their proximity or the knowledge that Richie’s single that does it, but he suddenly feels bold and hopeful.

Richie gets up and rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. “Uh, nothing but homework, really. Why?”

“There’s a party on the beach tomorrow night. Well…more like a small bonfire.” Eddie gets up from the chair, and he suddenly feels awkward and small, his heart stuck in the middle of his throat. “Will you come? You can bring whoever you want.” Unless it’s a date. Then I’ll throw him into the fire.

Richie’s blush spreads down to the collar of the white shirt, and he smiles so wide it makes Eddie’s chest hurt. “Sure, I’ll be there. Can’t miss an opportunity when a cutie like you asks me out.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, right.” Richie rolls his eyes and walks towards the back door, basically escaping their awkward conversation. Which Eddie is infinitely grateful for because he might’ve jumped Richie in that sterile backroom.

He walks out after checking that they didn’t leave a mess and notices that the café is mostly deserted now. Most people would be at the bar at this time of night. The group is sitting at the large table closest to the register and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees a curly redhead standing by it, talking to Ben animatedly. “Bev?” She turns towards him and beams instantly. Her board is abandoned on the floor when her arms wrap around Eddie, slightly lifting him off the ground. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, dummy.” Her short hair tickles his ears, and he pulls away with a small squeal. She turns his arms to see the damage and gives him an adorable pout. “My boo got a boo-boo.”

“You wish I was your boo.”

She groans loud, throwing her hands towards the hypothetical sky. “God, I do!”

The boys at the table laugh, the entirety of Ben’s attention on all Beverly’s movements. Richie, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie and it’s making him restless. He walks towards the table and touches Ben’s shoulder gently. “Hey, thank you for the kit.”

Ben puts a hand on top of his and smiles bashfully. “Don’t worry about it.” He gets up from the chair and moves in the direction of the register. “By the way, do you guys want anything? I’m closing soon.”

Eddie feels something tickling his fingers and looks down, seeing Richie’s hand hovering there, uncertain. “You want something Eddie-Spaghetti?”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call him?” Bev leans on the table and looks at Eddie with raised brows that translate to you better spill ALL the tea, immediately. Her eyes drift down to where their fingers helplessly gravitate towards one another, and she sticks the tongue between rows of white teeth, trying to be all playful and cute. Eddie hates and loves her all at once.

“He has a thing for nicknames, I think,” says Eddie and Stan hums in response, too enthralled in his book to actively participate in the conversation. Where he got it is a mystery to Eddie.

“Are we here to discuss me or your empty stomach?” Richie lifts himself off the seat and grabs Eddie by the hips, stubbornly leading him towards the display case. Eddie’s first instinct is to swat him away but it’s Richie, and his lower body is all tingly where long fingers sneak through the jean fabric, touching the barely covered skin of Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s brain doesn’t function enough to make a conscious food choice, so he picks the first thing he sees - tomato mozzarella panini and Richie gets the same, ordering himself some kind of a green bubble tea. Eddie asks for a bottle of water, and he almost flips shit when Richie takes out his wallet to pay for both of them. But then Ben shares his employee discount and Eddie doesn’t feel that bad. The whole thing makes his stomach feel all fuzzy as if they’re on a date. Which they’re not. But he wants it to be and daydreams about exactly that when they sit down to eat, surrounded by their friends.

Ben closes the café about half an hour later, and they hang out with him until he leaves. Bev is very enthusiastic to help, volunteering to wrap the plates with pastries and wipe the counters while Eddie and Richie flip all the chairs to go on top of the tables. Stanley locks all doors and documents the expired products and Ben repeats several times that he’s infinitely grateful and they’re all angels. Most of the words are directed towards Beverly though. He’s not fooling anyone.

The night is over quicker than it began and Eddie finds himself stalling, buying time to talk more, participate in some banter, maybe offer to teach someone how to skate. But as they file out the back door, he can see that all of his friends are yawning, and he feels the exhaustion push heavily on his shoulders. Eddie is usually asleep by ten, and he wants to make it back home to do some of the school reading. He knows he’s going to be too lazy to do any of that tomorrow.

Everyone walks towards the parking lot, and Richie falls slightly behind as if expecting Eddie to temporarily stop him. Which he does, grabbing the tall boy by the elbow, making him turn. “So, will you come tomorrow? Around eight?”

Richie grins and tugs on the strap of Eddie’s overall shorts. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t say anything. This guy is really rubbing off on him. “Thanks for patching me up. You really don’t seem like a kid who’d know stuff like that.”

Richie lifts his shirt and Eddie sees a small Finding Nemo band-aid on his ribs, but it only takes him a second to notice that. He spends the rest of the time studying the outline of the dark trail of hair that leads to the silver button. “This is me successfully making it to my front door on Friday. There was one on my chin, but it wasn’t as bad.” He shrugs and lets the shirt go, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles and puts the board down, moving it back and forth with his right foot. He wants to say so much and so little at the same time, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Richie quickly bends down and kisses him on the cheek. It��s so soft and swift that Eddie doesn’t have enough time to register what happened until he sees Richie walking backwards towards the rest of the group congregated around the only two cars at the lot. Eddie touches the burning cheek, his abdomen tumbling violently. When Richie finally turns back, Eddie lets his hands drop and laughs stupidly at the ground, dazed with all the events of what he thought would be an average afternoon. He feels a crazy buzz running through him as if someone just kick-started his body. Everything seems bright and pretty, and he feels so happy he could scream. He will scream in his pillow when he gets home.

He pushes off in the opposite direction after waving everyone goodbye, skating fast with no care in the world. The bruises are a dumb reminder to be careful, but he can’t think of anything coherent right now. He got to see Richie again, got to spend time with him. He even got a kiss. He smiles like an idiot and halfway home he hears another board behind him. He stops and turns to see Beverly speeding towards him, all smiley and giddy. She halts to his side and gently punches his arm.

“Okay, that was the most interesting group of people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Are you gonna tell me about the tall, mysterious guy?” She wiggles her eyebrows and makes a miming move of covering her face with a cape like a vampire.

Eddie giggles and pushes off again, down the empty street. “Are you gonna tell me about the cute coffee man?”

She laughs and goes after him, swerving from side to side. “Awh, dammit! How did you catch on to that?”

“I see everything.” Eddie puts two fingers to his eyes and directs them back to Beverly. “Wanna come over?”

“Duh! Why do you think I’m skating in the opposite direction of my house, dumbass?”

They come back to the Kaspbrak residence and see Frank sleeping on the chair outside, snoring so loud Eddie’s sure they’re going to get a noise complaint. They stifle giggles as they gently wake him, half-leading him down the hall towards his bedroom. They end up talking much longer than Eddie thought they would, running way past midnight. They’re so entranced in it that by the time Bev runs out of the bathroom half-naked, seemingly interrupted by something she remembered, Eddie knows what she’s going to say before he hears it. With all the talk about their crushes, he’s shocked he forgot about it himself.

“Oh my God, you’re a birthday boy! Happy Birthday!” She squeals when she bends down to hug him, and he laughs when the cold drops land on his face and pajamas.

They whisper more in the darkness of the room, the reading forgotten and Eddie falls asleep daydreaming about a birthday kiss, and blue eye lit up by the warm glow of the fire.

Perma Tag: @studpuffin @j0ys @its-stranger-than-you-think @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs @aizeninlefox @constantreaderfool (I’m removing some people who don’t interact - I’m not here to force my work on anyone, so no hard feelings. Let me know if you want to be removed/added to a perma list or a specific fic ♡)

#reddie #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #all the fluffy beach things #please

97 notes · View notes

alltheworldsinmyhead · 7 years ago

Photo

OUR FUTURE WILL BE A BRIGHT ONE: CHAPTER SEVEN

eremika soulmates through time modern au

( chapter one/chapter two/ chapter three/chapter four/ chapter five/chapter six/ ff.net/ ao3)

YI RI SAN QUI

CHINESE IDIOM; "ONE DAY, THREE AUTUMNS" – INTENSELY MISSING OR LONGING FOR SOMEONE SO THAT ONE SINGLE DAY APART FEELS LIKE THREE YEAR

"and it ain't a mystery you fell for me

we're just two lost souls trying to find our peace

love like ours ain't a masterpiece

it's a good day in the sun

i was born to love you

out where the water is wide

make me your country bride

you'll be my prince of tides

you were born to heal me

under a velvet sky

cattails dancing in the light

we were born to live a long and happy life

a happy life

- Delta Rae A Long and Happy Life

People notice things, they are well aware of that; it is surely spotted how baron often seems to be dozing off when his wife shamelessly winks at other men above her feathery fan, but his dear friend is always the apple of his eye. How baroness herself is terribly fond of said friend's wife and can be rarely seen without her by her side, both of them dazzlingly dashing with their blonde hair and tightly-laced corsets.

How much time the four of them spend together; the sheer close proximity of two couples would be enough to raise rumors, but, in addition to that, they slowly but surely get too lazy to cover their tracks, get tired of masks and lies and deception. Eventually, it's almost like they are not even trying anymore. They always split for vacation, when two women enjoy the thermal waters of Vichy or well-stocked libraries of their respective estates and two men laze around and almost carelessly spend golden mountains of money on wine and blackjack in Monaco

(but never women, they would never buy a single woman and the baroness and her lovely lady in waiting never take men. They would all preen or giggle or send a smile or two, charming and daring, but none of them is ever actually caught red-handed. In a way, you could say that they are shockingly faithful to their respective partners – not to mistake with 'spouses'.

That is worth noting too.)

They mix clothes and rely on servants and hotel service not to spill spicy details about any compromising and surprising positions and configurations in which they may be or not be caught; they leave dozens of apartments covered in feathers from ripped pillows, with ruined bed rests, silk ribbons thrown haphazardly all around the floor and love bites on display on the skins of their necks

They chase after one another through long corridors of castles and mansions, skirts hitched up and cravats untied, hands reaching for wrong hands, lips locked with forbidden lips. Laughing out loud like children, the baron and his friend stroll around, tousled hair and all, glued at the hip, their wives following them, clad in smirks and delicate lace and shamelessness as two cheetahs in bejeweled collars. Frowned-upon desire put proudly on display like an ornate Faberge egg.

Stormy sky blue and soft baby blue irises caught in a shared gaze, sparkling emeralds always meeting opalescent greys.

Done with running and hiding, having only enough decency to use marriage titles, their affairs hidden by the sheer layer of translucent ice. A blind man could see through it easily.

So yes, people notice things and maybe even know things; but for some time, they all somehow get lucky and make it; buy their freedom to love and live with pearls and diamonds and defiance, and enjoy every second they are given.

Live like royalty, like gods among mortals, blinding in their disgusting extravaganza. Their years spent together are endless summers filled with baked swans and tender lobster tails served on silver trays, with sky-high elaborate wigs, with parties and dances and sexual plays, tiny poodles on silk leashes, horses with hooves painted in gold.

It's not gossips that put an end to this wonderland; it's a deadly female.

Madame Guillotine cuts through shining threads of their lives in four clean strikes, but it is all easy to bear as even she cannot sever the bonds that tie them all together.

***

There's an album full of Eren's baby pictures on Mikasa's lap and a cup of tea in her hand; cinnamon- smelling crumbs scattered on the table in front of her.

Carla is busying herself in the kitchen with dinner, her son helping her out, or attempting to do so; she can hear them bantering and playfully snapping at each other the way only a loving, if slightly overbearing parent and an equally loving, but a little bit irked child can, but they are not loud enough to interrupt her train of thought.

And that is- well.

She's mostly trying to clear her head a bit because there's a lot to take in.

In ten minutes since she has entered the Jeager's house, she's been immediately seated in the living room, given a hot drink and a heavy load of Eren-related information. He can knit, apparently, was a star soccer player from primary up until police academy, did wrestling for a while, knows how to make a mean omelette, tried living in a forest for three weeks once , owns a pug (she wonders why he didn't feel the need to tell her this particular thing. Maybe he assumed she's a cat person and decided to keep quiet, which is – just idiotic, to be honest. She's not a heartless monster, for fuck's sake; pugs are adorable. Everyone loves pugs). He's hard-working, ambitious, driven and determined and loyal to a fault. Never surrenders and never gives up; always finishes what he has started. An idiot sometimes, mouth quicker than brain and a troublemaker, but with a heart made out of sheer gold.

Carla, Mikasa thinks, would be an excellent PR specialist, if she ever becomes tired of working as a nurse. She has an urge to interrupt her monologue to assure her that, no, she doesn't really need to advertise her son so fiercely. She's already convinced, sold, bought, whatever.

But Eren's getting more flustered and flustered with every word getting out of his mom's mouth and duh, Mikasa enjoys his struggle way too much to put it to an end so soon.

Absent-mindedly, she turns pages of the album; Eren grows up in front of her eyes , from a wrinkled newborn to an awfully cute toddler, a toothy-grinned first grader, a frowning middle schooler and an awkward teenager, his lanky limbs not knowing how to operate simultaneously.

And then there are photos from his high school graduation, Eren laughing, head thrown back, surrounded by a huge group of friends, all wrapped around each other, young and shining in their capes. Hulking blond guy and a tall dark-haired one; athletic freckled girl with her arms around tiny beauty with sparkling blue eyes, a shorty with military cut spinning around laughing girl with thick ponytail, skinny fair-haired guy, glasses on his nose and the sweetest smile. She makes a mental note to ask him about their names.

And – of course- the last picture is Eren getting his badge, his eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously similar to tears.

Her own heart swells a little with pride and she can hardly fight a small smile that finds its way to her lips. Out of all the people in the world, he is the one she will get to share her life with and she couldn't be happier with the fate's choice.

"Mikasa?" Eren emerges from the kitchen, a blue bowl filled with something smelling of sage and rosemary in his hands and an orange apron hanging loosely around his hips. "You're alright?"

She smiles at him, putting the album on the table and standing up.

"Yeah, everything's fine. You need help?"

He shakes his head and opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Carla's voice rings from the kitchen:

"Actually, sweetheart, can you set the table, please? My son still hasn't mastered this art, despite many years of practice."

„Mom, please, stop." Eren sends her a very apologetic look and storms back into kitchen and Mikasa can do nothing but try to stop the giggle from escaping from her lips. She loves it all so much.

It's not just Eren she's getting. It's this house and Carla, and the pug, and the people from the photographs in Eren's album. It's a whole new world, shiny and bright and ready for her to take and be welcomed in.

And with that thought warming her head-to-toe, she follows Eren to ask Carla where are cutlery and glasses, listening to the mother-son banter quietly, with the cheek-achingly-wide smile painted on her face.

She almost moans in delight, taking yet another piece of chocolate cake into her mouth, savoring the taste on her tongue. She tries to hide that and her cover is good, he'll give her that – but he's no fool; even a complete monster would turn into a saint for just a bite of this heavenly thing that Carla somehow enchants in their old oven.

And he's seen it so many times, this expression of wonder on so many faces, but it still suits hers just best. His mom is beaming from the other side of the table, asking Mikasa questions about her culinary preferences so that she would know what to cook for their next visit. Their old golden retriever quietly patters into the dining room and puts her heavy, warm head on Eren's knees, wordlessly asking for scraps. And so, as he scratches Leia behind her fluffy ears and watches his mom and his soulmate discussing apple pies and lemon meringues…

There's a strange feeling that overcomes his body somehow, sweet and wonderful and very, very old – as if the three of them have already been there and done that before; the shared chores and shared dinner, the laughter, the talk, their voices entwined into one, perfect melody. Mom and Mikasa smiling at each other, him between them, like a bridge.

No missing pieces in this puzzle; there's a rightness in this scene that has never been there before.

***

Carla's smiling at them, as she ushers them out of the doors, mischief in her eyes when she says:

„Go, go, take your time together." and the sheer implication rings in her voice so clear that he feels his face turning beetroot red. He quietly wonders how many times he has already blushed tonight and even quieter laments at this count, but Mikasa just laughs.

That's all she's been doing the whole evening, actually. Laughing and beaming, her face transforming with happiness; the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose dusted with pink. For a few hours gone was the stoic, poised girl, still a bit unsure how to handle the situation; for a few hours she was dancing around his house from kitchen to dining room, dishes in her arms and smears of chocolate on her chin.

And he's curious about that, but he doesn't really know what question he could possibly ask her to understand.

He grabs her hand instead and they move forward. The pavement is covered by the thin layer of ice and the heels of her shoes glide against it, making a high-pitched sound.

„Your mom is lovely," she says quietly, grabbing onto his arm for better balance. „And your house too. Thank you-" she raises her head to lock eyes with him, the shadow of a smile still remaining on her mouth, " – for taking me to meet her."

He lowers his own head so that he can press a kiss to her forehead; he can't believe she is the one to thank him.

„Honestly, the pleasure's all mine. But I have to admit, I didn't expect you to click together so … well."

Mikasa chuckles, nodding to herself; a hint of her amusement makes its way into his system, light as champagne bubbles.

„You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be just like her."

He almost trips on his own feet; stumbles and stops for a second as Mikasa steadies his form.

„Wha- what do you mean?"

She shrugs and tries to seem nonchalant, and he might have believed her if not for the way she buries her face in the folds of his scarf and grips his arm a little more forcefully.

"Well. My mom is an academic professor, she was always busy when I was a kid. But on weekends, whenever she had time, we would drive out of the city and she would just spend whole days in the garden. Had the most beautiful sunflowers in all the county. Still does, actually."

The snow is not falling anymore and the street lights shine clear; Mikasa's eyes reflect it even brighter as she stares into the distance, deep down on the memory lane.

"We have this house in the country, kind of a little farm, I guess. I loved it so much then. There was only us and a dozen of chickens and dad would sometimes take me to the river at dawn to try fishing. We would just sit for hours on the pier, not even speaking, just- taking in the view. And my mom would always wait for us with an apple pie ready. She taught me gardening, embroidery, and cooking. All I ever wanted when I was a kid was to be like my mom; to have a little house by the forest, a husband to kiss me when he comes from work and a bunch of kids to run around. To live a long and happy life."

She's looking down at her feet now, stopping speaking abruptly as if she just realized the words that came from her mouth. But he says nothing, just squeezes her hand gently and so she lets out a deep sigh, a little bit embarrassed when she states:

"Your mom is so warm, so big-hearted. This is the kind of woman I've always wanted to be."

Eren studies her form, the grace in her posture even when she is hunched, strands of black hair framing her beautiful face. Mikasa is not a woman she had just described; she is not the sunflower shining for everyone, she is not the summer sun warming all people equally. She will never be loved by everyone or love everyone . But those that she loves, those that she trusts-

He thinks about how she acts around him when there's only two of them and their heartbeats. He thinks how easily she shed her dignified demeanor while she was washing dishes, giggling with his mom.

And he envisions her childhood dream; a log cabin at the edge of the wood, a river humming nearby, picnic table covered in red-and-white checked tablecloth. Mikasa hanging sheets in the backyard, her long braid falling down her back and black-haired, green-eyed children playing hide and seek around her legs.

Coming home to see just that.

Fondness swells in his heart. This is a fantasy that doesn't belong to the world they live in and the one that, at first glance, doesn't particularly suit a woman as independent and put together as Mikasa… but a beautiful, beautiful dream regardless. The picture that he knows he will never manage to abandon.

"Long and happy life, you say?" he hums in appreciation, sending her a dazzling smile and, through their bond, a kiss to her soul, sweet and tender. "I think we can manage that."

***

The evening slowly turns into the night and as they prepare for bed and lay down under the covers, Mikasa can feel the storm coming.

He's about to say something and she will not like it; she knows this before he even opens up his mouth to speak.

He fiddles with his shirt and tugs gently on her hair, licks his lips, scratches the back of his neck. It's like a low-current running through her body, electricity buzzing in her ears constantly and still, nothing can prepare her for the moment when the shoe drops.

"So, uh, my shift starts tomorrow at 8.00, but I think I can finish off a little earlier, like… 16? And we can grab something to eat then, how about that?"

There's ringing in her ears and her breath catches and she wants to slap herself because, jesus Mikasa, overreacting as hell right now. He's got work, he has to go to work, nobody, and especially not her uncle will excuse his absence. But as she turns her face away from him, although she does her very best to get a hold on herself, there's a tremble in her voice.

"Oh. Okay."

I'm about to cry, she realizes, horrified. What's wrong with me?

His arms wrap around her middle and, as he hides her face in her shoulder, she cannot stop the small hiccup of a sob that escapes her lips.

"Mika, hey, Mika. I know- I know, alright?" His hands lock around her." I know, I understand."

Panic is a cold wave that crashes over her, chill runs through his veins, through their bones.

‘'Maybe I'll call and-"

"No, no." She shakes her head, slipping from his arms; distancing herself from him leaves her aching all over but she does it anyway. It's unhealthy, even for soulmates to be so wrapped up in each other, but they got careless, they got too needy. "You should go, we-we can't act like nothing even matters anymore."

His brow furrows and he gulps and she knows which words he swallowed.

(only you matter now, only this.)

She wants to reach out, god knows she does. Wants to take his hands in hers and kiss him; nuzzle her face against his neck, curl inside his ribcage, lock herself in his heart. Let him hold her until she melts into him and they'll never be apart.

But it's not good for them and it's not possible anyway, so she takes a deep breath and says:

"Chinese tomorrow for dinner, what do you think about this idea?"

***

The morning comes too soon.

She didn't manage to doze off even for a few hours; laid with her eyes closed and breath even, emotions ripping her insides to shreds. She didn't let him hug her and thought that will make her body numb, that if she gets used to not touching him when he is beside her, seeing him leave will be easier.

It's not; it hurts, physically hurts and she digs her fingernails into the flesh of her palms not to reach out to him, roots her feet on the floor not to run after him. He kisses her so gently that it's more like a shadow of a kiss than a real thing; maps her cheekbones with the tips of his fingers and walks backward through the door to look at her as long as he can.

She swallows to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth and manages a grimace resembling somewhat a smile:

"I'll be here when you come back."

He nods but he doesn't seem to believe her at all.

"Mikasa-"

"Go." –she waves her hand goodbye, praying not to tear up, praying for him to leave before she tears up. "Go, don't be late. Levi-"

"Hates that, I know." He's still standing in the corridor, still looking at her and he's so anxious that it spills over. So she breaks herself a little inside and coaxes her body to cooperate; slows down her heartbeat, lets her hands hang loosely by her side, raises her head higher.

And so he relaxes too; even manages to send her his trademark boyish grin before stealing one more kiss – this one a little more proper, not just a paintbrush stroke- and turns away rapidly, running down the stairs fast as if he was afraid that as soon as he slows down he'll come back running to her.

Oh, she wishes he did. So bad.

Hours pass so lazily, she's almost afraid that clocks have all stopped working. And she's absolutely restless.

Goes out for a run, hoping to tire herself, but finds herself looking for his face in the crowd of unfamiliar ones. Tries to answer messages that accumulated on her phone and social media during the weekend and realizes that she has no idea what to tell all those people. Writes a short message to her coach to assure her that yes, she'll be back in training on Wednesday. Curls on the armchair for a minute or two only to jump up at the slightest of sounds, as easily spooked as Madeline. Picks up a book just to stare at the same page for half an hour.

By 2 P.M. she's equally anxious, frustrated with herself and dead tired.

So she picks up the phone and does the only thing she can think of.

"Annie? Hi, sorry for radio silence. I had a reason though."

Annie's usual blank voice is somehow less disinterested than normal.

"Better a good one, Ackerman."

Mikasa almost smiles. You have no idea, girl.

***

Eren is pretty much sure that is the worst day of his entire life, but he doesn't really register anything that's happening around him so it might not be true.

His longing takes a form; it's a ball of pain in his chest, covered in thorns and making his lungs and heart bleed whenever he takes a breath . Usually he'd be sulking for being assigned to paperwork for the whole day, but today he thanks, all of the gods he knows for it; there's a white mist obscuring his vision so that even the easiest forms transform into a herculean tasks of bureaucracy, so he's scared to even think how his work in the field would present. It takes so much effort for him not to say fuck it all and run back to Mikasa like a stray dog begging for a little warmth that by lunch he is downright exhausted.

Four-fifths of his new team send him worried glances above their respective meals and the one fifth, his boss, the living legend, the man he admires more than probably anyone else in his life looks so disgusted with his current state that Eren is truly surprised he manages not to spontaneously combust under his burning glare.

All he thinks, all he feels, all he pretty much is is –

Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa.

His mind plays tricks on him, plasters her face on any girl that enters the office, forces his eyes to look for her even though the mind knows her location all too well. His knee is constantly twitching, bumping the cheap wood imitation of his desk and making his keyboard jump up and down. He has dark circles underneath his eyes that he's sure weren't there before. She's haunting him and he is, to put it bluntly, a mess.

And yet, he cannot manage to care, not when yet another torturous hour passes and he gets closer and closer to breaking free.

After he glances at the clock for the fifth time in two minutes and it's still 15:24, Petra – who seemed to gravitate more and more towards his desk as the day progressed- taps his shoulder and asks him, very slowly and kindly, is there any way she could help him, really?

He tears his gaze away from the digital numbers of the clock to look at her; amber eyes are wide open, concern written all over her face.

All that's ringing in his head is that he wishes he could look at another woman.

"I-I don't think so." He mumbles, looking down at his still twitching knee. "Or maybe- Petra, I'm sorry, could I drop out early today? Please?"

The desperation in his voice is so clear that even he grimaces a little. Petra bites her lip and opens her mouth and he just knows she's about to say that she's sorry but-

"Let him go."

Levi is standing back to them, seemingly deeply engrossed into the act of scribbling some notes on the whiteboard, but he is speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone in the office just drops their work for a second, exchanging surprised glances.

Levi is not exactly known for cutting his officers slack.

"Let him go, Rall, he's useless anyway."

Petra gapes at the back of Levi's head, mouth opened as a fish gasping for breath before shaking her head and patting Eren on the back gently.

"Go." She whispers softly and Eren can almost see the ghost of the smile on her lips. "Go, you idiot, before he changes his mind."

He doesn't need to be told twice; he's so happy he could kiss her, but there is another mouth belonging to another girl and waiting for him at home.

***

The only thing he does is ring the bell and suddenly she's all over him.

Arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist; she opens the door so violently that the sound echoes in the empty staircase and jumps into his waiting arms. And he's been running all the way there, driven by the fear that he somehow forgot the way (how could he forget the way, now that he knows it?) and so he's a little than more winded but, honestly, who cares about breathing anymore.

She kisses him with wild abandon nobody would suspect her of, almost livid in her raw desire. She's a mess of emotions, a tangled pile of electric cords in his hands; she sends nerves live-wiring beneath his skin.

They bump into furniture on the way to the bedroom and some small part of his brain registers it, sighs to itself about bruises that will inevitably bloom on his skin tomorrow. But he's got a handful of her and as he lowers his head down to press his lips to her neck and sucks on her pulse point she straight-up moans; this sound escapes her lips like a dirty secret and he swears he's gonna keep it… after he hears it again and again and again.

He nips on her collarbone, feeling her body shivering against his own, and she tugs on his shirt desperately, pulling him behind her until they both collapse on the mattress. His mouth curls into a smirk as he puts his weight on her, but then she spreads her legs, raises up her hips-

And before he can even notice, he's the one laying pinned underneath her and she's the one hanging above him; her breasts brushing his chest, heavy breaths rocking her body. Mikasa has her cheeks stained pink, there's saliva smeared on her chin and bite marks on her neck; he slowly raises his hand up and loops a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His palms cup her cheek face and her eyelids shut close.

Desire doesn't go away, neither does arousal; but as he looks at her – god. God bless.

It's like everything suddenly glows. There's unexplainable sweetness that didn't use to be there before; the strawberry red summer sun warming him up.

It's like somebody reached out and covered all of his emotions in gold, made them better, more complete. Kissing has never felt like this before. Making out has never felt like this before. He could've as well never touched a girl before.

So new, so fresh, like the air after the storm and still so familiar. She's his first time and the last time; the only one he'll ever want, the one he will never get enough of.

You woke me up, baby.

His other hand sneaks underneath her shirt, trails the line of her spine, caresses her back which arches under his touch.

"Eren." She still has her eyes closed, humming his name like a melody. "Eren."

She nuzzles her cheek against his hand, turns her head a bit for her lips to reach his skin and kiss him.

I adore you. They think simultaneously, think with all of them . I was so lonely without you.

He briefly wonders what it will feel like, to tug her top up and her bra down, to put his mouth on her breasts and make her moan again. To let her pull on his hair as he blows raspberries on her inner thighs. He wants it all so badly, desires her body and her heart and her mind and her soul.

You already have it, she thinks to him and it sounds breathless even in his head.

His hands on her back press her down and she lets him; she leans and lets him kiss the remaining sense out of her until everything spins in front of her eyes and she forgets she's supposed to breathe.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on them greedily and moving down and then her nails digging lightly into the nape of his neck-

Red, it’s all red everywhere, that's all he sees. Red, sticky and stinking of metal; the stifling hotness which coats his skin in sweat and makes his eyes water.

"Eren!" she cries out, her hands reaching for him and he's running, running, blood buzzing in his ears and breath knocked out of his lungs at the fear twisting her features because Mikasa is brave, Mikasa has never been afraid of anything, Mikasa is untouchable, impossible to kill, stronger than all of them combined and yet-

And yet.

"Eren!"

She's so far.

So far away.

Something crunches underneath the soles of his boots, but he doesn't stop to check on whose corpse he stepped on.

Red is oozing from the cuts on her face; it looks as if she was crying blood. And he is stricken with the terrifying familiarity of this scene; of his mother's figure held by the gigantic hand and raised from the earth's surface. The sound of her spine splitting in half. Her blood falling down like a rain.

And him, helpless again.

He sinks his teeth into the palm of his hand again and again, and yet the lightning doesn't strike. There's no magic this time, no transformation; and there's no spark of impossible in Mikasa either, just a small, broken, tired girl who exhausted herself to the point of almost passing out, her blades shattered, her wings torn from her back.

"Mikasa!"

Their eyes lock and her expression softens; the hand she held outstretched for him falls loose. To his horror, she looks at him with this bashful fondness … and that' when he realizes she has given up.

Her lips move, forming words which he cannot decipher because he's still so fucking, goddamn far away and he's screaming, still screaming for her, when her figure disappears in the gaping, dark hole of the titan's mouth.

#eremika #eremika fanfiction #snk #snk fanfiction #our future will be a bright one #attack on titan

35 notes · View notes

classic-rock-roller · 7 years ago

Text

1. You’re out on the streets with Kevin, and there’s always a singer at the corner of Olde Towne and Wads. The singer is usually boisterous, and you always tip them. One day, you pass them by, and they’re singing very passionately. Passionately enough, in fact, that you see that they’ve started crying during their performance. Neither of you have seen such raw emotion in a street performer before. What do the two of you do?

The both of us would stand there awestruck and then I’d give him a little extra when I tipped him.

2. Every year on Randy’s birthday since his passing, you, QR and Randy’s old girlfriend get together and ride the train up the mountain and get food from his favorite Chinese restaurant. Usually, the event passes without incident, but this year, the train’s barely started moving before Kevin starts crying. What do you all do?

“Aww, honey,” I’d wrap him in a hug and sit with him and the others would join in and hug him as well.

3. You decide you want to take lessons from QR’s session sax player. She’s trying to teach you a technique to get the right sound from the instrument, and you’re not understanding. After a while, the teacher gets up to take a break. You’re devastated, thinking it’s something you’ve done, so you follow her to apologize. You find her talking to Randy, and she says, “I love her to death, but I just don’t know how to describe what she has to do, I’m failing as a teacher.” She sighs and says, “If I can try to describe it to you, do you think you could teach it to her? You’re better at it than I am.” What does Randy say and what do you do?

“You may just need to be patient or teach it to her another way.” I’d feel guilty and apologize for being so hard to teach.

4. Someone was found dead at the Motley house, and Mick tells you that Nikki was arrested and taken into custody. You manage to get to see him, and you ask what happened. He says to you, “I never killed anybody, it was a gun.” How do you respond, and do you ever get the details of what happened?

I’d try to get more out of him but I wouldn’t. He’d be proven innocent because of insufficient evidence.

5. Kevin is complaining about finding an entire new band since Randy died and Drew left and Rudy is with Ozzy. You ask why he hasn’t just settled on someone yet, and he says, “I’d rather die on my feet than live a life on my knees.” The session sax player they hired a while back is with you (she’s not consistently in the band but hangs out with you guys a lot) and she just giggles and says, “Giggity.” You have no idea what she means. What do the two of you do?

“What the fuck does that mean?” Kevin asks. I’d just look at her and wait for her to elaborate.

6. QR is finalizing their album with the guest sax player. There’s only two tracks left for her to come in and play on, but you all get a call from her boss one day to hear that she lost two fingers in an accident at work. It’s not possible to play sax without all your fingers. What do the 5 of you do?

I’d try to convince the boys to let her finish. I’d try to find a way to help her finish the last two tracks.

7. You’re on a plane with QR and one of their songs comes on over the speakers while everyone is boarding from the terminal. You all shout, “Hey!” before singing your respective parts (you and Kevin sing the words, Randy sings the guitar part, Rudy sings the bass part, and Drew taps his rhythm out on the armrests). When the song finishes you all laugh a little. How does the rest of the plane respond?

They’d all start clapping. Amazed that we were able to do that.

8. You’re helping a neighbor lady in her yard with Kevin one day when the neighborhood cat comes around. It doesn’t belong to anyone individually, but everyone takes care of it where they can. Kevin says, “I’m going to name him Biscuit.” With utmost certainty, the lady says, “Her name is Daisy.” Kevin looks outwardly offended. How does he respond to the lady and what do you do?

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Biscuit.” They would argue and I’d finish the task before dragging Kevin away and apologizing to the lady.

9. You’re looking for something at Home Depot with Crue. You eventually find where what you need is supposed to be, but it’s empty aside from the inventory at the top of the shelves. You sigh, since most of the employees are useless. Tommy scoffs and says, “We don’t need them.” and before you can say anything, he begins scaling the shelves to get what you need. What do you do?

“Just be careful Tommy. I don’t need you falling and breaking an arm before next weeks show.”

10. QR can’t figure out the right mix of backing vocals on their record. They asked you to help, since they wanted higher harmonies, but your range was too low. They’re just stumped until the session sax player volunteers to try. “I’m not great, but it’ll be cheaper than finding someone else, if I can do what you want.” The boys figure, why not? and let her in there. Randy shows her which part to sing, and sends her in. You sit out with the boys to hear her, and she blows you all away with the notes she can reach. When finished, she asks from inside the booth, “How was that?” What do each of you do?

They’re all amazed and can’t say anything so I say, “That was amazing. You did great.” And giving her a thumbs up.

11. Kevin took you to see Crue at a big arena one day. You’re having a blast, until about halfway through the show. Nikki hasn’t been looking so good, and halfway through Dr. Feelgood, he collapses facefirst off the front of he stage. What do you and Kevin do, and what happens next?

“Come on Kevin we have to see if he’s ok.” By the time we get there they’ve already carried him backstage. We heard later that he was fine.

——————–

1) You, Kevin, and Randy are on a plane and the kid behind you keeps screaming. After two hours of the four hour plane ride Kevin whips around and says. “Hey, can you shut the brat up?” What do you and Randy do?

2) You’re sitting on the end of the couch while Kevin is sprawled out. Kevin’s girlfriends dog keeps trying to jump up and lick his face. He keeps pushing him off and telling him to go away. Your laughing and say, “He just wants to looooove you.” How does Kevin respond?

3) You and Randy are puppysitting for Kevin and his girlfriend. Randy accidentally leaves the door open and the puppy gets out and starts running down the street. What do the two of you do?

4) Your band and QR are the best of friends, but are viewed as rivals by the public. Randy and you are dating and everyone you see always asks if you’re like Romeo and Juliet because of your bands’ “apparent fighting.” How do the two of you usually respond?

5) You take Randy home to meet your family. You’re talking with your uncle when he brings up the new hit from QR. “I don’t like them.” Your uncle says. “Why?” You ask. “They perform satanic rituals.” How does Randy respond?

6) While out somewhere with Crüe, you hear the guy in front of you go, “Yeah, I had Shout at the Devil for a week. But I gave it away because I thought it was possessed.” How do you and the boys respond?

7) You’re in the kitchen getting snacks together for a long road trip. Your start to ask Randy what he wants. “Orange” “no” “Apple” “no” “pear” “no” You stop and look at him, “How about a swift kick to the ass?” How does Randy respond?

8) It’s late at night when you get a knock at your door. It’s your friend who’s dating Nikki. When you open the door she has a black eye. “He…uh…hit me.” What do you do?

9) You and your roommate Stephen have decided to do spring cleaning. He sets some of his stuff in the living room and you notice a pair of leather pants you’ve been missing for months. You pick them up and go to Stephen, “Aren’t these the pants I’ve been missing for months and you said you hasn’t seen?” How does he respond?

10) When you get home from work you find Kevin and Randy sitting on the couch. Kevin is covered in blood(not human) and Randy is holding a harpoon. What did they do and how do you react?

11) You go to your roommate Stephen’s first gig with his band to support him. Their phenomenal and completely blow you away. After the show he comes up to you and says, “So what did you think? Was it good?” He pauses, “Of course not. You’re boyfriend Randy’s band is so much better than us.” How do you respond?

@osbournebemydaddy your turn, love

#tag game #tag war

1 note · View note

supercorps-imaginesetc · 7 years ago

Text

Halloween Special

Here's what Supercorp was doing yesterday. Also it's not as gay because I wrote it for my English class. - Admin Cam

p.s. this is the unedited version so it's a little rough. Sorry guys

The First Halloween

It was a sunny, beautiful autumn day in National City and Lena Luthor was, as usual, in her office at her company, LCorp. She had been there all day worrying about her plans for a meeting she had with the managers at another LCorp location. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle anymore, there was a knock on her door.

“Ms. Luthor, Kara Danvers is here to see you,” Lena’s secretary, Jess, announces peeking her head into the office.

“Send her on in,” Lena says, barely even looking up from the documents in front of her. Lena hears the sound of Jess’ footsteps retreating as Kara enters her office.

“What do you look so stressed about?” Kara asks plopping down into the chair in front of Lena’s desk.

Lena sighs, “I have a meeting with some managers at one of our locations in Metropolis.”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Kara exclaims causing Lena to jump at the sudden out burst.

Lena furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “Yes? What’s wrong with tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween! You can’t have a meeting tomorrow! You won’t be back to National City in time!” Kara says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s Halloween, so you have to do spooky, festive activities! You just can’t have this meeting tomorrow!”

“Kara, I’ve never celebrated Halloween,” Lena shrugs, “Why would I start now?”

“What do you mean? Celebrating Halloween is one of the best parts of fall!” Kara says with excitement that Lena was enamored with.

“The Luthors didn’t celebrate ‘childish’ holidays like Halloween.”

“You mean you didn’t get to experience the joy of Halloween?”

Lena just shakes her head as Kara gapes at her. It seemed that Kara was the epitome of a Halloween superfan.

“I can’t change the meeting now, Kara. We will just have to celebrate another time.”

“It’s not the same though! You have to come over and celebrate with my friends and I!”

Now, Lena is left in a predicament. Does she let Kara down or go to the meeting she’d been dreading?

“Alright, alright you win. I’ll send some emissaries to the meeting instead of going myself,” Lena says causing Kara to give her a bright smile.

“Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it!” Kara exclaims grabbing her stuff to leave.

“Wait, is that all you came here for?” Lena asks confused as Kara walks to the door.

“No, I just need to make sure everything is perfect!” and with that Kara exits Lena’s office.

After Kara leaves, the rest of Lena’s day is filled with business calls and loads of tedious paperwork. Along with the emissaries, Lena asks her most trusted employee, Jess, to go to the meeting as an amanuensis, so she would know all that was being said and done while she was absent. This would be the first meeting she had missed in months since she had taken over LCorp, but she would do anything to see Kara Danvers as happy as she was earlier.

The next day, Kara showed up at Lena’s apartment bright and early to start their festivities. First was going to the pumpkin patch. Where they were going to find a pumpkin patch in National City, Lena did not know, but Kara seemed to know what she was doing, so Lena didn’t question it. Kara quietly tells Lena’s driver where to go and when Lena raises an eyebrow at her in question Kara just tells her it’s a surprise.

“You know,” Lena says on the way to the secret pumpkin patch, “with you having me skip these meetings, people are going to start think I’m sneaking off to see my paramour or something.”

Kara laughs, “Well, the press would have a field day with that for sure. I promise to not make a habit of taking you away from extremely boring meetings.”

The rest of the drive is spent with Kara telling her hilarious stories of Halloweens she spent with her family. After Kara finishes telling the story of her first Halloween spent with the Danvers, they arrive at the pumpkin patch. Kara excitedly jumps out of the car and Lena follows. The pumpkin patch was like nothing Lena had ever seen before. It was filled what looked to be hundreds of pumpkins of all different shapes, colors, and sizes. Lena had no idea where to even start with it all, but thankfully Kara had her back. Kara takes her hand and leads her to a row of standard orange pumpkins.

“Here are your classic pumpkins. I usually get one of these since they are easier to carve, but you can choose whichever pumpkin you want,” Kara suggests as they walk through the rows.

Kara was definitely assiduous when selecting the perfect pumpkin. She would pick up a pumpkin, inspect it, and then frown before putting it back down in its place. This process went on a for about twenty minutes before finally selecting the perfect one. It was a huge orange one that looked to be about twenty pounds and Lena had no idea how Kara picked it up so easily. Lena, unlike Kara, had no system whatsoever. She would simply pick one up randomly then put it back down, not quite knowing exactly why it wasn’t the right one. It had taken her a little more than half an hour, before selecting one. It wasn’t near as big as Kara’s pumpkin, but it seemed just right for her.

“Kara, how about this one?” Lena asks holding up her pumpkin.

Kara giver her one of her usual bright smiles, “It’s perfect, Lee.”

The two head off with their pumpkins to the checkout. Once the pumpkins are paid for, Kara insists on them getting some apple cider, and Lena of course can’t say no to her. So, they leave the pumpkin patch with two pumpkins and two steaming cups of hot apple cider.

The next stop on their Halloween adventure was the costume shop. When they arrived the store was overflowing with last minute shoppers.

“Kara, I thought you would’ve had your costume picked out by now?” Lena asks raising an eyebrow at her as they make their way through one of the crowded aisles.

“Oh, we’re not here for me! We have to get you one,” Kara holds up an angel costume, “What about this one?”

Lena shakes her head and Kara goes back to searching. She holds up hippie costume.

“Nope.”

“This one?”

“Really, Kara?”

Kara nods excitedly. Lena sighs before grabbing the costume and heading to the dressing room. A few minutes later, Lena emerges clad in a Wonder Woman costume.

“Do I look like the princess of Themyscira yet?” Lena asks spinning around. Kara agrees while laughing at Lena’s antics.

Lena gestures to the flimsy bracelet cuffs on her wrists,“I don’t think these are as impervious as the real Wonder Woman’s are.”

“No, not quite. Now let’s get out of here, Wonder Woman. We have some pumpkins to carve.”

Later that day, they’re are at Kara’s apartment carving their pumpkins. Kara friends Winn, James, Alex, and Maggie all came over to join the festivities. They were all gathered around the kitchen counter carving their pumpkins for their annual contest. Since this was Lena’s first time carving a pumpkin, she decided to go with a simple design of a smiling Jack o’ lantern with triangle eyes. The others, however, were doing some really complex designs. Lena watched Kara amazed as she incisively carved the pumpkin into an intricate design.

As they were all working on their pumpkins, the amount of trick or treaters proliferated throughout the night. It seemed Kara’s apartment was a favorite stop of the local children. Though it wasn’t much of a surprise once Lena noticed that Kara gave them all full size candy bars. The children’s faces lit up once they saw all the candy, pumpkins, and costumes that filled the apartment. Throughout the night while she was passing out candy, Lena saw many other little girls dressed up as Wonder Woman and some even asked to take a picture, which she happily agreed to.

After everyone was finished with their pumpkins, it was time to pick a winner. Lena wasn’t expecting to win with such a simple design, so when she placed last it was no surprise. Kara, on the other hand, was expecting to win with her elaborate flower pumpkin, but lost to Alex’s dragon. To say that Kara was upset would be an understatement.

“Stop being fractious just because you lost,” Alex says teasing her sister, “you’re acting like a child.”

“Am not,” Kara says crossing her arms, looking exactly like a five year old throwing a fit.

Soon after, their celebration drew to a close as the friends began to say their goodbyes to each other.

“I hope you had fun today,” Kara says as she helps Lena put her coat on over her costume.

“It was the best first Halloween I could ever ask for, and much better than the meeting I would have been in all day. Thank you for talking me into joining you.”

Kara hugs her before saying, “It was no problem at all.”

Lena is almost gone when she hears Kara calling something out to her.

"Happy Halloween, Lena."

61 notes · View notes