#...it was the meat and pasta that always had me stuck at the table until the food got cold bc im super picky
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HAPPY 413! Here's more of the [non-Sburb AU] Filipino/multiracial Striders I write and draw. Bitter melon was on sale in the store, so I bought a ton, and I was like, 'How can I make this Homestuck content?' Lol. I like the taste, but I thought it would be funny to have Bro bully Dave into eating it as a punishment for being a sneaky vegetable-hating teen. (Good thing Lil Cal is always there to keep an eye on him when Bro is out.)
Idk, mostly wanted to draw the food, bc bitter melon looks so fun when it's sliced like that.
Bro and Dave are both trans men.
Image text below cut:
[Dave walks in on Bro cooking. Lil Cal is seated at the table already.] Dave: the fuck- what are you cooking Bro: Ginisang ampalaya. Heard you're not eatin' your veggies. Dave: cal... fuckin snitch Bro: HEY. Dave: seriously what is that alien dick Dave: ugh its all bumpy too Bro: Bitter melon. It tastes like cucumber skin, but has a better texture. Dave: fuckin gross Bro: What, are you a fuckin' pussy? Too white to try pagkaing Pilipino? ["Filipino food"] Dave: damn right if it involves warty dick-cumbers Dave: aint filipino no more Dave: gonna have to hog the white genes on this Bro: Here. Prob want some cock sauce on that. [The food has crisp bitter melon, melted tomatoes, and scrambled eggs.] Dave: ugh do i have to eat it Bro: Yes. [Everyone is seated at the table. 'Cock sauce' is Sriracha because of the rooster on the bottle.] Dave: oh its not bad Dave: ... [The bitterness sets in.] Lil Cal: HAA HAA Dave: is this even edible Bro: Sure is. [Bro eats it normally.] And if I hear you're not eating your vegetables... Well, I'll just have to cook more of the same thing dad used to make me. There's enough to last all week. Dave: ...fuck Bro: Eat up. It's healthy. Dave: please dont make me eat this Dave: ill eat any other vegetables ok? just not this Bro: That's what I wanna hear. But you're still finishing this one. For throwing out all that food. Dave: ugh END.
#homestuck#bro#dave#lil cal#striders#bro strider#dave strider#trans bro#trans dave#trans bro strider#trans dave strider#ginisang ampalaya#filipino food#idk what to tag this#413#homestuck 413#homestuck fan art#fan art#art#digital art#drawing#comics#comic#food#puppets#i was in one of those 'sit at the table until you eat your whole plate' households lol but like... i actually liked vegetables lol...#...it was the meat and pasta that always had me stuck at the table until the food got cold bc im super picky#creis bc i rushed this to make it for the 413 date when it was supposed to be just a regular date comic lol#i wouldve done backgrounds and dragged it out more#also i hate picking skin tones against white bg bc its always too dark or too pale bc theres no setting colour reference ugh
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Advice? Help?
But I'm stuck. I'm writing a cafe scene and I just...My brain -will not process- where to go from here. I have the next notable event in mind, which takes place IN the cafe, DURING this scene, but it begins near the middle of the scene and isn't resolved until near the end of the scene, and I'm here at the BEGINNING of the scene struggling to put words down to make this connect to that.
Like...Okay, maybe y'all can help me here.
Beginning of Excerpt
The cafĂ© was simple and elegant, with a forest green awning over a wooden door with a coffee cup carved into it. Stepping inside, I was assaulted by the scent of coffee, vanilla, chocolate, and various foods. There were several tables, and David pointed out a table near the front counter. I nodded my understanding, heading for it as he stepped behind the counter. Sitting at the table, I looked over in Davidâs direction. I watched him walk into the back room through the employee door, out of sight.
I smiled, picking up a menu and scanning it. They had a fair variety of choices, but nothing you wouldnât expect at a place like this. Sandwiches, pasta, coffee, tea, a few soft drinks. The most out of the ordinary item on their menu was a personal sized pizza. I sat the menu down, deciding on my choice. While I waited for David to come back out, I let my eyes wander around the room. There were a few other patrons in the cafĂ©, but not as many as I had expected given Davidâs stories of how crowded the place could get.
I could see a lynx, sitting at a table with a jaguar, and near the back corner sat a macaque by himself. It didnât seem too popular at the moment, but I supposed that worked for me. I liked a crowd, but mostly just the kind that jumped around and did bad things on the dance floor. The stuffy, boring folks that sat in quiet cafĂ©s to relax werenât people I had beef with, but they werenât the kind of crowd I had interest in. I pulled out my phone, and opened one of my game apps, combining elements in sequence on the screen.
David came back a few minutes later, smiling. He skipped over to me and flipped open a notebook. âWhat can I get for you today, Mr. Trayson?â He asked, purring my name. I laughed, raising a brow. âEasy, the whole waiter-flirting-with-customer thing might give people the wrong idea.â I replied, smirking at him. He just rolled his eyes and tapped the paper with his pencil, silently encouraging me to give my order. I glanced at the menu one more time to refresh my memory, already having forgotten what Iâd settled on.
âIâll take a footlong steak and cheese, double meat, and a large water.â I said, folding the menu up again and holding it up for him. He nodded, writing down the order and taking the menu. âGreat choice, weâll get that out in two shakes of a badgerâs tail~!â He giggled, skipping back to the back room. I returned my attention to the phone, casually swiping elements together on the screen. I sat back in my chair, resting the phone on the table and laying my head back against the headrest of the chair, closing my eyes.
I could smell food all around me, and even with breakfast this morning having been so nice, my stomach growled at the scent of meat, pasta, and pastries all around me. I thought about the sandwich being prepared in the back, my mouth beginning to water at the various smells.
End of Excerpt
For reference, this is Draft 3, and is by nature wordy and, at times, over-descriptive. I'm doing it that way not only because my previous drafts were poorly paced and I want to let the world breathe a little both during and between notable events, but also because I would rather go too deep into description than not deep enough, because it's always easier for me to cut out and shorten than it is to extend and add on when editing.
I know I need to have his food brought out
I know I need to introduce the inciting moment for the notable event
But I just
When I try to write the next passage
I can't. Words just don't come to mind, at all, like I've completely forgotten how to write.
Maybe it's a consequence of my brain frizzing out so much today, but I don't think it is because I've been stuck on this one part for 3 or 4 days now.
Help?
Tag List
Tagging these folks cause they seem to like my work! If you want to be added (or removed), just let me know!
@heavensfallenfaction @moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @a-scaly-troublemaker
#writeblr#writing#relan#literature#fiction#modern fantasy#furry#anthro#anthropomorphic#creative writing#writer#writers block#writing community#excerpt#excerpts
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exact same shirt, two years apart.
(full story under the cut; 18+ please)
i weighed 225 in april 2020, up from 205 in december 2019 (no clue how that happened as life for me barely changed when the lockdowns started); iâm at 266 now, and i gained all this weight in 2021 and a little bit this year, believe it or not. i actually lost weight in quarantine, about 13 pounds: wasnât eating much and things going on in my social life in the summer of quarantine contributed to the losses. tried getting it back over the winter, and more so when alex entered the picture. then my stepdad passed in april 2021 and all of a sudden, there was a lot more food in the house. i gained 25 pounds last summer, going from 221 to 246, followed by another five over the winter and then 15 spread out over the course of this year.
i donât mind it: if anything, it feels good. healthy, even. my pants fit better (those old ones in the top pic fell down at every chance: they give me the biggest muffin top now đ
), everything is fuller and rounder, and i can eat a lot moreâi feel stronger, too. i was always curious about the world beyond 220 poundsâfrom 2015 when i hit 200, to 2021 when my stepdad passed, i bounced around that range and i was curious about the 230s. now iâm actually looking at 270. 270 pounds, i should be gigantic (and my mom is planning on making gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies pretty soon here, too. gingerbread, with sugar, thereâs also a few chocolate chip cookies and some oreos in the cupboard, and persimmon cookies atop the fridge. and she wants to make bread pudding at some point. and thereâs apple pie in the fridge. and thereâs chocolate on the coffee table before me. when i said âfuck diet cultureâ, i meant it.)
actually i kinda am gigantic now. iâm big.
just for reference, this was me in december 2019
and this is me just now
my bras are tighter now, too. i had difficulty keeping them on my shoulders in 2019/2020: they keep everything in place now, like they actually fit.
i felt emaciated back then, too. my stepdad, with all his problems, often snuck food when no one was looking, and objected to my mom and me treating ourselves. i couldnât eat muchâand you gotta eat. you gotta nourish yourself. he passed and suddenly, i could eat to my heartâs content, all the healthy food and all the sweet stuff.Â
my body widened out, i now have a definite double under my chin, and i have a potbelly now, and itâs kinda sexy, tbh. i feel really healthy: everything is where it should be and i havenât had a cold or anything since 2019, interestingly enough. i do have a little snoring problem, but thatâs about it, though. iâm not in pain and iâm not âachingâ for anything. i was thin before the world came crashing down, but i wasnât having a good time, though. i love to eat. i love sweet, fattening food. i love vegan food. i love meat and pasta and cheese. i love so-called guilty pleasures. i love mexican food, indian food, chinese food, japanese food, vietnamese food, filipino food, french food, german food, italian food, what the baltic countries do this time of year and just gorge until new yearâs⊠i want to âeat acrossâ a city some day. i love to eat, and i love to eat a lot.
i wish i got chubby as a teenager, if iâm honest. my story would have been so much different (just imagine: a fat field hockey player rather than a gaunt anorexic one, i probably wouldâve stuck it out much longer). and i wish i could tell 13-year-old me that itâs really not at all bad because your body actually needs to be fed and that your thoughts are lying to you and the whole world is lying to you, actually, and you can feel good by eating whatever the hell you want, and come with me in unpacking diet culture and all the bullshit that makes women (and men) destroy their bodies all for the sake of chasing ideals which are pointless anyway because to change is to live and be human.
i remember being 19 on a camping trip to the oregon coast over thanksgiving 2012 and the backstory is it was a potluck dinner, and i brought a grasshopper pie because iâm actually from 1960. and no one touched it (one of the boys brought a pecan pie and that was more welcomed) and there was no room in the miniature fridge in our yurt. so, i ate this whole pie aside from two pieces missing. solo. on top of two helpings of thanksgiving dinner. three quarters of this creamy mousse pie made with crĂšme de la menthe, marshmallow, and a chocolate crust. and this was well before i got heavy, too, this was back when i still weighed around 150 pounds, and before i dropped down to 139, too. i often think about that pie, too, how it made my then-slim belly swell up and it felt so right, and if i can do it now. i think that was the moment of clarity for me, in hindsight: the moment i thought, âi donât want to torment myself anymore.â a fleeting thought, but i do remember thinking it.
in fact, i actually have a pretty distinct memory of being five or six years old and wishing i could eat everything and become fat, like i muttered it to myself when no one was paying attention (i looked at my naked body when no one was looking and i wished to be fat when no one was looking, the belly kink makes a lot more sense now, doesnât it? đ). i have no clue what happened to it, but my aunt used to have this old black and white photograph of me wearing denim jeans and cowgirl boots, and i had no shirt on, and i was pushing my belly out as far as i could go.
i wasnât healthy thin, either. got sick a lot and nevermind b.m.i., itâs ableist and eugenicist and serves no one. you want to go with waist to hip ratio (those measurements divided by each other; you want under 0.80 to be considered healthy. and guess what? mine at the moment is 0.74, which is perfect. yes, even with my belly, i still pull off the numbers).
so, i have literally genuinely felt this desire to be a heavyweight my whole life: 5 year old me wanted a fat belly, 13 year old me wanted to look good, and 19 year old me wanted to feel good. itâs part of my truth. itâs just one part of who i am, and iâm finally just comfortable enough to talk about it.
so, as i write this, yes, i donât feel negative about it (if anything⊠you want the truth? i donât feel fat enough. itâs not like iâm lazy or sedentary, anyway: iâm gonna eat a big slice of apple pie with ice cream and whipped cream right now and then all my momâs cookies, and everyone obsessed with dietingâand covering upâcan die mad about it).
the last time i posted pix of myself, a bunch of people unfollowed me and blocked me. their loss, i say, especially when you see these:
(that faith no more shirt has been through so much: of course i love wearing it now)
another kind of interesting thing about gaining all this weight? i feel more tomboyish than ever. iâll go through the fat-related tags on here sometimes and iâll look at fat women, and theyâre all very feminine. whatever rings true for you, absolutely (the one dress i have, i tried it on and from the side, i looked pregnant with my well-fed belly đ€·đ»ââïž) but i think itâs interesting that there arenât a lot of âsportierâ girls such as myself. i want to keep wearing shirts and sexy camisoles and skinny jeans and flared jeans that accentuate my legs and my hips.
yeah, man. this is all me.
all 266 pounds đđ„”đ
#recovery#recovering ana#former anorexic#ana trigger#disordered eating mention#tw disordered eating#fat girls#weight gain#chubby girl#chubby women#fat ana#fat and hot#long time coming#personal#big girls do it better#recovery is possible#recovery is not linear#nofiter#gpoy#me#hope this inspires someone
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Tinderbox, pt 19
Chapter masterlist here
Marshall thanked Christie and made his way out of the deli, stopping to say goodbye to Rosie. She waved to an old couple who complimented the dayâs special before turning to him, her tumble of hair looped in a ponytail through her deli-logo ball cap.
âArlo, huh?â she asked, but her tone was nervous.
âHe isnât involved, Rosie. He did what any teenage boy would do - took fifty dollars to drop the gift to you.â
Her shoulders relaxed. âOkay.â
âSo,â he began as the deli bustled around them, âTonight. I, ahâŠ. I donât think you should be alone.â
Colour infused her cheeks. âActually I donât want to be alone. I could ask Christie if-â
âStay with me? Iâll have Faye tonight, but sheâs actually really stoked to meet you.â
Rosieâs eyes widened for a second. âShe is?â
âShe is. Although she reiterated that she doesnât share food.â
Her lips curved, and the urge to kiss her ran through his veins like wildfire. âSmart girl.â
âWeâll pick you up at seven, then?â
âPerfect.â She looked as if she was about to lift her face for a kiss, but a customer waved her over with a request for a coffee top up. âSee you later, Walt.â
It was the first time sheâd shortened his name, and he liked it.
He hadnât taken three steps out of the door when Arlo appeared beside him. Marshall folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the outer brick wall of the deli. âUh huh?â
âUh, Sir.â Arloâs face flushed red, his backpack hung on one shoulder. âYou donât have to tell Rosie, do you? About theâŠ.. ErâŠ.â
âPoetry?â Marshall prompted, hiding his amusement.
âYeah,â Arlo mumbled, staring at the ground.
Marshall put him out of his misery. âIâm pretty sure itâs against the bro code. I wonât say anything.â
Arloâs eyebrows shot into his hairline and he nodded. âThanks, uh, Sir.â He turned away as fast as his legs would carry him, no attempt at the cool teenage slouch Marshall had seen him adopt previously.
*****
DAHLIA: How are you, babe? Not heard from you for a hot minute.
ROSIE: WellâŠ.. Iâve met someone.
DAHLIA: Holy shit!
DAHLIA: Whatâs he like? I want to know everything about him. How tall is he? What colour is his hair? Have you seen inside his pants?
ROSIE: Lovely. A bit grumpy on the surface but sweet inside. Heâs very tall. Brown hair. And yes, I have.
DAHLIA: Oh my gawd.
DAHLIA: By the way, you havenât seen Dylan around have you? Itâs a big city so I guess probably not. But his old schoolteacherâs mom said heâd left for NYC.
DAHLIA: You ok?
DAHLIA: Meanwhile, back at the ranchâŠ.
DAHLIA: OK, you didnât even laugh. I can tell even from here. Maybe I should come visit?
*****
Rosie fidgeted by the door of her apartment. Sheâd packed an overnight bag, changed Salamiâs litter tray, ensured his dispenser was full of enough food to last until tomorrow mid morning. She glanced around her apartment, once her sanctuary. True, Dylan - if indeed Whiskers was Dylan - hadnât crossed the threshold, but he knew where she lived, and that was bad enough.
The buzzer rang and she almost jumped off her feet. Drawing in a deep breath, she shook her head. âCalm down.â Five in, five out.
She pressed the intercom button. âHello?â
âHey, sweetheart,â Marshallâs voice came clear through the speaker. âYour chariot awaits.â
âBe right down.â Rosie bent to drop a kiss to Salamiâs head where the cat curled up on her painting table, eyes closed, tail flicking lazily.
She locked up behind her, the heels of her boots clicking on the stairs. The weather was getting warmer by slow degrees, but Winterâs teeth hadnât been blunted yet, and she wrapped her scarf tighter as she pressed the door release.
Marshall stood outside in his thick black parka, the hood down. The wind teased errants curls of his thick, dark hair . Next to him, her hands in her pockets, waited the teenage girl from Marshallâs wallet picture, her hair hidden by the purple hood of her winter jacket, an expression of wariness and hope on her adolescent face.
âHi,â Rosie ventured. âYou must be Faye.â
âAnd youâre Rosie,â Faye replied, her tone neutral. âDad says youâre staying with us tonight.â
Rosie glanced up at Marshall. âIf thatâs okay.â
Faye smiled shyly. âWell, we get to have double garlic bread because youâre coming for dinner.â
âI love garlic bread,â Rosie admitted.
âMe too!â Faye squealed, but then dropped her expression into the teenage ambivalence Rosie knew very well from when sheâd been that age. âI mean, everyone loves garlic bread.â
âCome on, you two,â Marshall interrupted, rolling his eyes good naturedly. âIâd better get cooking.â
Rosie followed them into the car. Faye took the front seat next to her dad, and Rosie was happy to get in the back.
Marshall navigated the truck across the city and within twenty minutes they pulled up outside a tall brownstone. The end of its terrace, two big roman-style pillars flanked the entryway and a Victorian style lamp glowed on the wall above the buzzer panel.
Tapping in the code, Marshall let them in, first through the main door, and then into his ground floor apartment.
The living space was bigger than Rosie had expected, breezy and open plan. Heâd been right though - no soul. The kitchen looked like it wasnât often cooked in. The fridge held a selection of takeout menus and some polaroids of Faye, stuck up with magnets. Plain drapes lined the big picture window, and on the coffee table lay an official looking folder, likely full of police work.
âDadâs place needs work,â Faye said shortly. She opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. âYou want some?â
âSure.â Rosie shrugged off her coat and Marshall hung it with his own.
Faye set out three glasses and sniffed the juice before pouring. Beside her, Marshall started assembling the ingredients for lasagne and pulled frozen garlic baguettes from his small freezer compartment.
âWhat can I do?â Rosie asked as Faye shrugged her coat off and tossed it on the sofa.
âDad and I usually cook together,â Faye replied from across the room, but then added, âhow about you chop the herbs?â
The teenager set up her phone as a speaker and played some bubbly pop music as the aroma of cooking meat filled the space. Marshall asked Faye questions about her friends and her day as he measured out pasta sheets, and before long the dish was set in the oven, the aroma making Rosieâs stomach clench in hunger.
Marshall plated up the garlic bread and Faye practically vibrated next to him as he carried the dish to the table.
She snatched up a piece and tossed it from hand to hand. Rosie laughed at her antics. âA girl after my own heart.â
âSo is it serious with you and my Dad?â Faye asked after chewing a mouthful of garlicky baguette.
âFaye,â Marshall growled.
âNo, itâs okay,â Rosie allowed. âI care about your Dad very much, Faye. And to answer your question, I believe it is serious.â
Faye looked to her father for confirmation of this.
Marshall nodded. âIâm serious about Rosie. She makes me happy.â
For a second Faye looked from her father to Rosie and back again, as if deciding something. Then she smiled shyly.
âYouâre happy?â she asked Marshall.
He hesitated. âYesâŠ?â
âSo can I stay up late tonight? And can I pick the movie?â
Marshall looked at Rosie over Fayeâs head, and his expression said I think weâre going to be fine.
As always thanking my beta, @ly-canthrope
Tagging: @geralt-of-baevia @hopelessromanticspoonie @just-the-hiddles @omgkatinka @dr-kayleigh-dh @cavillhavoc @princess-of-riviaa @mrsaugustwalker @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @andahugaroundtheneck @trippedmetaldetector @captain-rogers-beard @xocali @peakygroupie @rayofdawnworld @pinkzsugar @promptandpros @mitzwinchester @wanderinglunarnightsâ @brokenthelovelyâ @ravenpuff02â @screamingrennergasmâ @mary-ann84â @agniavateiraâ @ayamenimthirielâ @stxphmxllsâ @alyxkbrlâ @penwieldingdreamerâ @radaofriviaâ @thethirstyarchiveâ @raspberrydreamclouds
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Beyond The Veil: Chapter 6
A glance at the time told Eras that Muska was still stuck in the meeting. Unsurprisingly, but also disappointing. She had hoped the meeting would go faster so Muska would get home an hour ago. She really wanted to get food started so she could relax, the nerves of Musa going to a highschool had eaten at her all day.
Great, she was starting to sound like an actual mother.
*sigh*
Pulling out her phone, Eras opened the phone app and pressed call on Muskaâs contact. Conveniently titled âparasiteâ. It rang for a total of 3 times before it clicked, suddenly two voices flooded through the phone. One, that was Muska, the other was definitely Nedzu. So the witch put her on speaker phone. Nedzu was probably trying to get her to answer more questions then they agreed to answer.
The chirpy âI wouldnât want to keep you from your meal but if I may inquire, is your guardian real or not? I know you're older than most of us but as you said you are a minor for your kind. We would like to get you in a safe environment for the time you spend learning here and research revealed nothing but a name, Viridis Eras if I remember correctly.â was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.
Maybe, Eras wouldnât have to worry constantly about her friend.
âI am very much a real person, Nedzu.â She said simply, her voice coming across smooth and melodic. The other side of the line went dead quiet. It almost made her chuckle but she refrained. Intimidation was hard to maintain through giggles.
âHey Eras, what's up?â Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.
âThe person that actually needs to eat physical food is not in my house to eat it. Since school ended 2 hours ago and my parasite wasnât here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.â Eras responded, ignoring the soft âactually need to eat?â from the background of the call.
She wasnât lying. After school had âreleasedâ she had been checking the clock every 10 minutes. Anxiety over what could be happening kept her from focusing so she had sat down on the couch and glared at the fireplace for the entire 2 hours.
So what if she was overly worried, and for nothing it seemed? She has had bad experiences and experience is always the best teacher.
âAwe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?â Muska said, her tone teasing and Eras could pick up the faint sounds of choking from the other side of the line. Of course she would throw that term around in front of others.
âYou wish, gremlin child.â
âOld woman.â
âBitch witchâ
âWhat kind of pasta?â
âSpaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if youâll have the appetite for it. Itâll be there though.â Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. âWill you need a ride home?â
âNah, Nedzu is practically vibrating in his place at the thought of another veil member, which he has correctly hypothesized you are, and would most definitely stalk the gate for you.â Muska returned, amusement bleeding into her tone as Eras caught snorts from around the room she was in.
Suddenly, a cough snapped her attention back to the conversation as said rat cleared his throat.
âAs amusing as this is, Before you leave would I be able to ascertain who or what you are? Considering the age of the witch present, for her to address you as âold womanâ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.â Nedzu stated, interest coating his words.
Before she could respond someone in the back of the room, a gruff voice that was deep as fuck holy shit, spoke up with a warning present in his voice.
âNedzu, I donât believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.â the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.
âThanks Aizawa-sensei.â Muska said, a little choppy on the sensei but that was expected honestly. Well, nice to know the name of the voice. However, Eras wanted to make the rat suffer a bit. He spent a few hours interrogating so she might as well dangle an interesting opportunity in his face and not allow him to reach for it.
âYes thank you Aizawa-san, I don't mind telling you what race I am , Nedzu. I am also much older than the teen witch in front of you at the moment. Yet, alas,â she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, âI seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasnât even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.â
With a response of âYou got it bestie.â the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.
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Aizawa Shouta has had several revelations as the day passed. First of all, the broken bone boy was very determined to keep his place in the heroics class. Heâs going to be a problem child, he has a sixth sense for them at this point. Secondly, one of his students is an enigma. She looks to be a bit older than 16, maybe 17, yet is over 2 and a half fucking centuries old. When he had first come across the term âbeyond the veilâ he knew there were probably things that far surpassed humans in different areas but that old? That counts as a teen?
With a heavy sigh, Shouta sat through one of the wildest faculty meetings he had the displeasure of being forced to attend. That was saying something considering his employer was Nedzu. Granted, he wouldnât have skipped this one anyways when knowing answers to the veil would be given. Understandably, not all of the answers, but now they had a firm idea about what actually lived beyond it. Also understandably, the new information was perplexing. Shouta wouldnât touch any more information with a ten foot pole until whatever he was just given was processed.
As Viridis left the room, thankfully less chaotic than when she had entered, Shouta let out a sigh of relief. He rubbed his hands down his face and contemplated what he just heard. Finally, they had an overall summary of the types of races present in the veil and a somewhat structured hierarchy that would have to be explained further at some point in case they stumbled into the veil now but that could wait.
Shouta shivered as he remembered how oppressing the air had gotten in the room during Viridisâs talk about the forgotten. He had met hardened villains that had less presence and conviction then she did during her rant. They would need to hear about the taboos as well, he really didnât want to be branded thank you very much.
Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No âZashi, his jaw was firmly in place and had not dropped when the person spoke, even if it did that was warranted because he's sure he saw even nemuri marvel at how smooth it was, and no he did not snicker when they obviously baited Nedzu.) They wouldnât have to worry about finding a place for them to stay safely while attending their school. This brought up some new considerations though. Groaning he slammed his head onto the table dramatically, the other teachers swiveling their heads to snap their gaze to him.
âNedzu, sheâs probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we donât find a way to occupy her, weâll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.â
All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy proâs were unusually subdued after that showing. Whether from the presence of something completely unknown to them that was downright terrifying, or just the way Viridis acted and spoke to Nedzu, Shouta wasnât sure.
Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.
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The morning of the second day of Muska's highschool life, Eras felt off, like something bad was going to happen kind of off.
When she had âwokenâ from her vegetative state that morning everything just felt wrong. Then as she got up to start the day things just kept happening. None of them were good.
First, she found out that Tibbles had knocked over her higher end coffee grounds. (Accidentally of course, Tibbles may see them as servants but he was smarter than most and knew better than to ruin something a vampire enjoys. Eras could hold a grudge and it isnât pretty) Next, she was informed that she had 4 business meetings, back to back, since there was a supply disruption and her pseudo-bosses that she pays to handle shit like this were out of their depth and had never experienced this before. Great.
Rushing, Eras made the coffees out of the cheaper brand and it hurt her soul to do it, coffee was sacred, and ran back to the observatory where her closet was to get dressed.
Grabbing out one of her many business related outfits, she threw on the first one she saw and paced over to her full length mirror to adjust it. A forest-pine green silk button down, the top three buttons were left open and a mesh underbust corset tied it together and tucked it into black dress pants. She tugged on black platform heels that came to a stop above her ankles. A charcoal black coat that stopped at ankle length hung off her shoulders. Since fall was starting to approach, the days have gotten cooler so it was there just in case.
Not that she actually felt the cold, she was technically undead, but the aesthetic was important.
A few extra accessories to tie it together, a silver chain necklace and several statement rings that were scattered on both hands along with earring sets, and after fixing her middle part she was done. Black circle sunglasses were grabbed absentmindedly through habit as she left the room. The sun was bright and Erasâs eyes were made for the night.
When she walked back into the kitchen to grab her thermos filled with a caramel macchiato she heard a wolf whistle from the dining table. Spinning around, she noticed Muska staring at her with surprise.
That was warranted, Eras dressed like a gym obsessed hobo most of the time.
âHoly shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?â Muska said as she idly sipped her coffee while the phone she was scrolling through laid on the table, opened up to some kind of story based on the paragraphs of text she was seeing.
âThanks, I have 4 business meetings that are emergencies because apparently a food supplier that I relied on had to recall everything, so I have to go down and explain what to do and listen to suggestions all day. I should be done by the time your school gets out so Iâll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.â Eras rambled a bit towards the end while fidgeting with her cup.
She was never able to gracefully accept a compliment outside of a text message, no matter how many years Muskaâs been with her and hyping her up. Grabbing her keys, this time to her car and not the motorcycle (no matter how much she loves that bike she doesnât want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.
âWant a ride there?â She asked with a raised eyebrow.
A total of 3 minutes passed as Muskaâs sleep-addled brain caught up and she nodded, downing the rest of her coffee like a shot and slipping into her room to change into the uniform.
That was also a new weird thing, Eras was definitely not used to seeing Muska in anything but various black outfits with the occasional color. She missed seeing the edgy outfits and platform heels that were always an unneeded height since Muska was fucking taller than her. (she could change that but she was comfortable with 163cm)
Once Muska came back out, a quick pet to Tibbles given on the way which gave them a meow (Muska immediately glared at the cat. Sadly, Eras was at a loss as to what the cat was saying. Again.) and they both walked out of the door. Despite living on a mountain, they had a stone path that led to a fairly sleek building that blended in with the surrounding trees and mountain terrain. Once inside, parked along the furthest wall and facing the exit were three vehicles. The motorcycle that Eras had driven Muska with on the exam day, a military grade jeep that was blacked out and decked out, and finally, a 1970 volvo. It was a pastel mustard color and belonged to Muska.
Swinging open the door to the Jeep, Eras climbed in and started the car. Opening the garage door with the touch of a button and left the moment Muska was strapped in.
The ride to UA was easy and calm, except for the blaring of Muskaâs playlist that Eras didnât dare tell her to turn down because it was one of her favorite songs and she was loudly singing along. Pulling up a block away from the highschool, Nedzu precaution, Eras waved Muska out of her car and yelled another âKICK ASS WITCH BITCH!â before cackling as she drove away from a very aggressive middle finger from her friend.
Time to go deal with meetings that could have been a conference call.
âI AM-â A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, âCOMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!â
That is, not how normal people enter a room what the fuck?
The newest blond in the class stood at around 200 fucking centimeters tall and wore spandex like a second skin. In american colors. Muska had never paid attention to the #1 Pro hero before but the more she looks at this walking american flag the more sheâs grateful for not paying attention. Then something caught her attention.
The man had the same leaking weird energy as the twink from the faculty room.
How the hell did the solid brick wall of meat turn into the skeleton of a man she had seen literally yesterday????? Not only that but the leaking energy seemed to travel through the classroom, as if closer to the source of what's gathering it. As she followed the line of energy she noticed it stopped in front of her, going right into greenieâŠ.
What did she just stumble upon?
This feels like national secret type shit.
She tuned back in to hear the hero describe the battle trails they would be facing. 2 on 2 battles with full quirk use and indoors with a fucking bomb to locate. Paper mache but still, this was kinda advanced. She did, however, perk up when he mentioned costumes.
That, she was extra excited about.
Despite not really coming to UA for the hero aspect but more of the quirk training aspect, Muska still felt pretty excited about the costume. Also, she would legally be allowed to beat people up as a hero as long as they were classified as criminals or villains. That sounds like a good stress reliever within reason. She wasnât going to just maul them. Thatâd be an abuse of power.
After being dismissed to change, Muska ran up to snatch her costume and bolted to the locker room. She had some say in the weapons but Eras had actually taken the time to design the costumes basics in order to cover everything that might be flung after her. It was also a way to help placate her. For some reason Eras had been extra fidgety ever since she started going to school. There were some things she didnât know about Erasâs past, but she definitely knew that there was some kind of trauma there, and whatever caused it happened in a school setting.
Opening the case, the first thing Muska noticed were the knee high steel reinforced combat boots that had armor built into it to act as knee braces as well. Next to them was a pair of mirror sunglasses that were purple, placed on top of a letter.
[Youâre probably wondering about the glasses. I sent them into a support company for a little upgrade to help you out on the field. They're not necessary so if you want to skip wearing them that's fine but at least check out the surprise Iâve added ok?
Kick ass witch bitch
-E.V ]
Placing the sunglasses on her face Muska almost jerked them off in surprise as a cat mascot character appeared on the right side and waved before jumping across the glasses and they powered up, showing an HUD layout. Something said âput on suit to connectâ but that was ignored in favor of the other abilities. The right side had facial recognition software and a tracker for things that are marked in view. There was also a marker that she could activate to aim weapons, like a video game. The left had the âconnect to suitâ warning at the top but underneath that was a mini map of the surrounding area using a fucking satellite. How the fuck?
Taking them off for now, Muska went and picked up her suit to throw on. There were Two layers. First was a black body suit with colored accents that glowed when wanted, right now they were purple but they could change colors. It was Kevlar and another special type of alloy to make it shock resistant, fireproof, frost proof, and immune to knives and bullets. Next, was a cropped hoodie and shorts which stopped at the upper thigh. The cropped hoodie was purple and the hood part of it looked like a witch hat, the long point fashioned after the stereotypical black witch hat.
There was a tactical belt that wrapped around her waist and connected to two belts that wrapped around her thighs below the shorts. The belts that went vertically on the side of her thighs held pockets of medical supplies and smoke bombs. The previous on the left and latter on the right. The belts that were wrapped around her thighs carried the pockets that held her brass knuckles. The belt around her waist held the whip so it dangled while coiled up off her right hip. Slipping on the boots and lacing them up surprisingly quick, the full outfit was on.
Putting on the glasses once more Muska discovered why it said to put on the full suit. At the top left of the sunglasses was a full body scan that continuously displayed her vitals. It was green for now but if she retained injuries it would slowly move between green to yellow to red. Red being critically or fatally injured.
Holy SHIT Eras! This is some Tony Stark shit?!?
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@baguettehead
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Insulting Romance
A/N: Letâs kick this blog revival off with a holiday appropriate shitfic eh? Itâs an old one from the depths of my google doc hell, and itâs involving a mixed up ship mess from a very old dead multi-fandom roleplay forum. Characters involved: Dean (SPN Canon), Sam (SPN Canon), Maebh (SPN OC), Deadpool (Marvel Canon), Fives (Star Wars Canon), SD-630 (Star Wars OC). Warnings: none, thereâs mild threats of bodily harm and sexual jokes but nothing actually happens.
âHey, you ready to go yet? Sam is freaking out being alone with Maebh.â His voice echoed up the stairs with mild annoyance etching his words.
âI don't get it, isn't this weird earth holiday all about couples? Shouldn't he not want you there? Why am I being dragged along?â Her questions barely preceded her down the stairs as she asked them in rapid succession.
âIt is, itâs a dumb âearth holidayâ but Sam likes her and I'm just in it for the free lunch and to keep him from being⊠Well, Sammy.â Shrugging he leaned against the lobby wall and occupied himself with his obsolete car keys oblivious to being watched from the stairwell.
âDoesn't explain why I'm going⊠I don't want to be stuck in some pink plastered cafĂ© surrounded by grotesque displays of adoration and happy couples.â She made a fake puking sound as she came into view to emphasize her point.
âYou jealous? That's cute coming from little miss âlet me introduce your face to my fistâ. Câmon, weâll cash in on a free lunch, make fun of all the happy couples, and then go drown our loneliness at the bar. Itâll be fun.â Alerted by the proximity of her voice he looked up in time to provide a lop sided convincing grin before ducking to avoid the boot thrown at his face.
âI'm not jealous!â Closing the distance between them she grabbed her boot and stepped back to sit on the steps to put it back on. âI just like to keep my food in my stomach where it belongs. Republic Clones and Jedi are bad enough on their own, Republic Clones and Jedi in love, out in public, on a romantic holiday? Throw me to a sarlacc please.â She couldnât have rolled her eyes any harder as she let her thoughts stray to the blonde Jedi that had stepped in and shoved her out of the picture with a certain clone captain that she had since been avoiding.
âUh huh⊠Either way, letâs go, I'm starving.â With that he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment complex into the sunny streets of the island's main town.
âStill never answered me. Don't you have any other friends you could drag along to this torture?â Catching up to him she nudged him playfully.
âNone that are single, and I'm sure Jett would just love if I invited Teal along.â Rolling his eyes and dragging out Jettâs name unfavorably he continued, âWhich leaves Maebh, whoâs already there, and, oh look, you. So can you lighten up just a little and have fun for a change? Or are you programmed to not have fun?âÂ
âI'm a stormtrooper not a droid, I am perfectly capable of having fun.â With an almost growl like reply she nearly shoved him into a wall as they walked.
âRight, prove it then short stack.â Stopping at a door covered in hearts he grinned and opened it to a cacophony of slow soulful music, giggling chatter, and a familiar red masked mercenary singing along to Frank Sinatraâs The Way You Look Tonight.Â
âDamn, Wade outdid himself this timeâŠâ Ignoring the jab at her height, or lack there of standing next to the 6â giant beside her, she scanned the crowded diner until she spotted the date they were crashing. âLook, thereâs Sam and Maebh, so glad they took the corner booth, no one has to see me here with you on this puke worthy holiday.âÂ
âSee you with me? Iâm the embarrassing one? Didnât you wreck your chances with a certain clone by being the embarrassing one?â Swaggering along beside her he nodded and grinned at each person that looked up at the pair of them with expressions of confusion or shock.Â
âI did not! He was a pushover and that saber wielding witch used her damn dirty jedi mind tricks on him I know it.â She hissed as she slid into the booth seat opposite Sam and Maebh before narrowing her eyes at him for additional confirmation that he was being an idiot in her opinion. âYou really know how to treat a lady donât you?â
âA lady? Where?â He slid into the booth seat and immediately doubled over to rub his shin under the table. âDude, ow.â His previous grin was replaced by a look of shocked indignation as he glared at his brother sitting across from, ignoring the muffled chuckling coming from both women at the table.
âThat's not a very clever pick up line, no wonder you're single.â The blonde managed between her stifled laughs.
âI'm single. You're single. Coincidence? I think not.â he leaned over closer to her smiling broadly with a wink.
âOk, if you are going to start that right now, you two are going to have to find your own table.â Sam coughed drawing their attention back to the collective group.
âHey, you asked me to be here, I wasn't going to suffer alone. Besides, I figured maybe you could tell me, you ever danced with her?â His usual cocky grin secured in place as he asked.
âNo⊠Why?â Sam, as well as Maebh and SD, stared at him with mixed looks of confusion and worry.
âI just figured someone thatâs hot as hell, had to have danced with the devil a time or two.â The trio of groans were accompanied by howling laughter from the next table over, garnering their attention to see who was listening in on their conversation.
âOi, Fives, unless you want to eat blaster bolts and leave your date with the check, act like this entire table doesnât exist. Got it?â SD glared between Sam and Maebh at the clone trooper sitting behind them.
âDon't be like that SD, I'm sure your date wouldn't enjoy you taking time away from him to kick my ass today. I think itâs kinda sweet you found someone to share this earth holiday with.â Fives smiled while draping his arm over his own dates shoulder smirking back at her.
âMy date?!â the rest of his words fell on deaf ears as her eye twitched in aggravation. âMove your ass Dean, I'm going to make him eat those words.âÂ
âOuch, shot down by the droid captain herself. Knew you didn't have a heart SD.â With a wink he turned back to his table and continued to focus on his date.
âI really hope you got health insurance Fives, cause you're going to need an entire hospital to help you when I'm done with you!â Trying to physically push Dean out of the way she was determined to at the very least punch the clone in the face a few times if not outright stab him.
âHey, if you were a droid, at least you'd be a HOT-obot. Can I just call you Optimus Fine?â Wiggling his eyebrows in a jesting manner he tried to defuse the situation before SD really did get up to start a fight with Fives.
âWow Dean, and I thought we would be the âgross cute coupleâ present. That was just, wow man.â Sam shook his head as Deadpool sauntered over with a tray of drinks in hand to take their order.
âSo what can I get the barbershop quartet of murder and mayhem today?â Setting down the tray, he handed a beer to Dean, a glass of water to Sam, and a soda to either SD and Maebh. Tucking the now empty tray under his arm he smoothed out his apron. It was a baby pink thing with red hearts printed across that worked better than Dean's latest pick up line as both women at the table started laughing, even Sam and Dean couldn't help but chuckle.
âWe all know you don't do menus, so what's the special today?â Maebh asked after composing herself.
âI'm glad you asked! Today we've got every assortment of pasta you could imagine, I highly recommend the spaghetti to share,â even with his hood on, his eyebrows raising suggestively did not go unnoticed, âas well as all the usual dishes. I focused more on the desserts than the entrees. Sundaes, giant brownies, cheesecakes, basically anything you can imagine is being whipped up!âÂ
âI don't know what âthe usual dishesâ are⊠I'm assuming Earth food?â SD asked with one brow quirked displaying her obvious confusion at everything being said.
âDo you have Alfredo in that âevery assortmentâ of pastas? Been awhile since I had a good Alfredo. You'd probably like it SD, itâs just noodles and sauce.â Maebh gave her order and offered her suggestion to SD.
âActually that sounds pretty good, make that two please.â Sam chimed in before Deadpool had a chance to answer. Without bothering to verbally confirm their order, he pulled a notepad from his apron pocket and jotted down before looking at Dean and SD.
âI don't even know what pasta is in the first placeâŠâ
âYou wouldn't like Alfredo, itâs basically vegetarian. Youâll want something with red sauce, more meat.â Dean interjected knowing that someone with a love for carnage like the captain sitting beside him would not be a fan of anything even remotely vegetarian.Â
âSo the spaghetti to share for the killer couple, got it!â Deadpool didn't give them time to reject his choice for them before he skirted away from their table shouting towards the kitchen âI NEED TWO GREENS PEACE PLATES AND ONE LADY AND THE TRAMP!âÂ
âOh hell, he better bring that out on separate plates I swear.â Dean sighed as he took a drink of his beer, grateful the mercenary always magically knew what everyone wanted to drink at least.
âDon't count on it.â Sam chuckled from his side of the table.
âWhile we're waiting, I got another question for you.â The second the words were out of Dean's mouth Maebh hung her head knowing no good was going to come from his statement.
âUh, what?â Already not looking forward to whatever stupid thing he was about to say.
âIs that a mirror in your pocket?â With one brow raised and his shit eating grin back in place he waited for her answer.
âNo?â Looking down at her pants oblivious to the punch line she wondered why he would have asked that.
âBecause I can practically see myself in them.â His other brow raised as he mimicked Deadpool earlier suggestive eyebrow wiggle.
âYou'd have better luck seducing her blaster man!â Fives chimed in between laughs.
âBoth of you can shut your mouths right now!â She hissed as it dawned on her what he said. âI only came along because you sounded so pathetic and desperate when you asked. This isn't a date, we are not involved romantically or casually, cut it out Dean.âÂ
âOh come on, lighten up!â Playfully nudging her shoulder trying to get her out of the sour mood she was in he added, âI just like to stay on top of things. Want to be one of them?âÂ
âYou're going to get stabbed-â Sam started up before Maebh interjected.
âOr shot.â
âYes, or shot, and ruin the day for everyone here. I'm sorry he's like this SD. He's never had a woman actually say yes to spending Valentine's Day with him and it's clearly gotten to his head.â Sam explained trying to justify his brother's behavior and lower the tension.Â
âHow sad, makes sense though.â She didn't elaborate and even looked out the window when she caught the confused look on Dean's face.
âHow the hell?â He asked looking from SD to Sam and Maebh completely bewildered.
âBecause on a scale from one to ten, you're a one, and I'm the nine you need.â A slight smirk crept across her face as she refrained from looking back at him in a poor attempt to keep from laughing. Maebh cracked up though at her retaliation and in turn she couldn't help but start laughing as well.
âOh! The stormtrooper thinks she's got jokes! That's pretty cute coming from someone who must've sat in a pile of sugar.â He almost started laughing when she scooted over in the seat to see if he was being serious or not. âBecause you've got a pretty sweet ass.âÂ
âTell me something I didn't know Darth Obvious.â With an amused snort she picked up her soda before noticing Deadpool coming back towards them with a tray of food. âOh good, at least if your mouth is full you can't make anymore dumb jokes.â
âI got something that could fill your mouth.â He muttered quietly as he watched her start choking on her drink.Â
âWhat the kark!â Having nearly snorted out her drink through her nose she had to take a moment to get her breath back as Deadpool set out their plates.
âAlfredo for you, Alfredo for you, and please wait until you're back at your own place before you start choking on things that are hard to swallow SD, my other patrons don't need to see that.â Setting down their large shared plate of spaghetti he made a quick exit away from their table to go check on other lunch dates before SD could retaliate amidst the rest of their table laughing heartily.Â
Still coughing on her drink she could only glare at him as he walked off before she could reply or at least throw a knife at him. She knew it wouldn't have done any real damage to him, but it would have made her feel better that even he had gotten a jab in at her expense.Â
âHey, calm down, you'll want to save your energy for tonight after all.â Dean grinned as Sam and Maebh groaned.Â
âCan you at least keep it clean so I can keep my food down?â Sam pleaded as he took a bite of his food and mumbled about how good it was, to which Maebh mumbled back around a bite herself.Â
âI make no promises, it's hard to keep it clean when you've got a health hazard sitting next to you.âÂ
âHey Dean?â The almost innocent nature of her question was concerning all on its own.
âYeah?â Watching her nervously he had a nagging thought in the back of his mind to get out of the way but he stayed sitting anyways.
âYou dropped something.â Looking past him at the floor beside their booth she kept up the casual tone and calm façade.
âWhat?â Following her gaze he didn't see anything and became confused. âNo I didn't?â
âYeah, you didâŠâ taking advantage of him leaning towards the floor, she shoved him out of the seat before adding âyour standards.â While he flailed futility to try and keep himself from falling, she took a bite of the weird mess of food sitting before her and grinned. âAt least your taste in food isn't terrible.â
âYou just called yourself low standard, you know that right?â He asked as he got back into his seat.
âI never said mine were great either.â She muttered as they continued to eat their meals with minimal conversation.Â
When their plates were mostly empty, and after a short battle for the last meatball, Deadpool came back around with drink refills. âAnd what can I get you all to satisfy your sweet tooth? Brownies? Ice cream? Both? Cake? Pie? -â
Almost simultaneously SD and Dean's faces lit up at the mention of pie as they perked up and asked âPie?â Gaining them a chuckle from Sam and Maebh who both knew Dean loved pie more than any other food except maybe burgers. Looking from Deadpool to one another skeptically they spoke up at the same time again.
âYou actually know what pie is?!â
âPie is an Earth food?!â
âIf I hadn't already met God, I'd think he was real now. A woman after my own heart.â He wiped away a fake tear as Deadpool took the moment to throw a handful of candy hearts in the air above them bringing both out of their shock to glare up at him in annoyance as the hard candies pelted them mercilessly.Â
âWhat the kark Deadpool! What are these things?â SD hissed as she picked one up and saw that it had words on it. âCutie Pie? Is this some kind of joke?âÂ
âThe only joke here is that you might have actually found someone SD.â Fives piped up after being silent for too long. âOuch! Those things hurt!â He ducked down before she could throw another one at the back of his head.
âSo I think it's obvious they want pie, but can we get a Sunday please?â Maebh interjected before SD and Fives started up again.
âOf course! All the toppings?â He asked, looking at Sam and Maebh ignoring SD and Dean shaking candy hearts out of their shirts.
âYeah? Sam?â She asked not sure if he had any allergies she should be considerate of.
âAnything you want, I'm not a big dessert person anyways.â Seeing the slightly dejected look at his words he quickly added âI'll still have a few bites though.âÂ
âHEY SLADE I NEED A BANANA BOAT AND A COUPLE SLICES OF YOUR GRANDMA'S BLUE RIBBON!â He shouted as he started down the row of booths to take other dessert orders and shower more unknowing patrons with hard sugary treats.
âSeriously though, what are these things?â SD asked the rest of the table as she picked a few more up to read them. Pulling a disgusted face at one that read 'soul matesâ before flicking it away from her.
âThey're candy with silly messages printed on them,â Maebh answered as she picked a few up to read as well. âThough there's some X-rated ones mixed in⊠not surprising coming from Deadpool though.âÂ
âHey, SDâŠâ Dean held out a heart that clearly Deadpool had somehow managed to make and mix into the regular cutesy ones that read ânice assâ.Â
With a grin she picked through the ones on the table and held one up in reply 'eat meâ. Of course she had meant it in a 'go fuck yourselfâ kind if way not knowing it was intentionally one of the dirty ones mixed in.
âIf you insist, we'll need that pie to go though.â Leaning closer to her he held out another âlets bang!â.
âI may not have a heart, but know a few other ways to get blood pumping.â She grinned as she spoke up enough for Fives to hear. The resounding sputtering of a drink was all the response she needed to start laughing her ass off. For additional effect, added for Sam and Maebh's benefit, while pushing Dean out of the booth she tacked on a âSorry to have to bail on you guys early, but I can think of better places to enjoy a slice of pie among other things.â
âWait, seriously?â Stunned by what was going on he didn't really have the mental capacity to object or question her as she flagged down Deadpool and dragged him along.Â
âWhat just happened?â Maebh asked Sam, equally confused.
âDean just met his match is what just happened.â He chuckled as he leaned back into the booth seat to relax.
#TESC Works#tes writes#fanfic#shitfic#drabble#oneshot#valentines day#star wars#canon#clone trooper fives#fives#clone trooper#oc#stormtrooper#sd-630#marvel#deadpool#supernatural#spn#dean#dean winchester#sam#sam winchester#maebh gallagher#comedic relief
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Acting Weird: Peter and Sebastian
âHeâs acting weird,â Peter said, hesitantly, pushing the linguini around on his plate with his fork, building a pile of tiny little clam shells along the edge. He didnât eat the clams unless Karen was watching, but he had to pretend to. His stomach roiled a little, but it always did, and Peter was used to it.
It was a beautiful day outside and heâd been out there weeding all morning, taking his time, letting the sun beat down on his back and make him nice and tan while he listened to the gentle strains of Henryâs piano practice coming through the open window.
Heâd heard the sound of the cover closing - he'd been on edge and didn't really realize it until he'd heard the soft clack of wood on wood. By the time he'd pushed himself up and made it through the back door to Henry's practice room, Henry was gone.
Up in his room, with his door shut, and music playing, and Peter was willing to admit he knew what that meant.Â
Leave me alone.
So he had.
"Weird how?" Sebastian asked, pouring himself another glass of wine, running one finger over the expensive, soft leather collar he wore. They weren't technically allowed to drink Madam's wine, but she always let Seb have the rest of bottles she didn't like.Â
Peter shrugged, jabbing his fork at a tiny clam, hearing the tines scrape along the shell. His own collar, the heavy choke-chain that Karen still made him wear, sat with real weight just above his collarbone. "Just weird. I feel like sometimes he wants me around and sometimes he, he doesn't. And he hardly talks to me, and he used to talk all the time."
"Henry is not an "all the time" talker."
"He was to me, before!"
Sebastian frowned, thoughtfully twirling pasta around his own fork, staring at it, eyes slightly crossed. "Probably just scared. He's never seen her really go after Dex before. I mean, neither have youâŠ"
"You have?"
Sebastian nodded. "Couple of times. She'd had him for⊠um. A few years when she got me. But he still fucked up sometimes, then, and got disciplined. Especially after⊠you know. Seeing him. Sometimes when he came back, he was kind of a shit. Sheâd discipline him and heâd go right back to normal. Anyway, by the time I lived here, he already went on those trips all the time, that's why she wanted a cook, someone who wouldn't leave. Dex left constantly. She sent him to see that creep like⊠sometimes it felt like once a month."
Peter nodded, thinking about the look on Wright Farling's face when he'd stood at the table in the library and said Dex. Just his name, but with⊠with a little catch to it.
Dex, mouthing go home to Peter, looking at Wright like⊠like people looked at saints in the paintings Karen liked to see at museums.Â
"I wonder if anyone would ever look at me that wayâŠ" Peter mumbled, lost in his thoughts.
"What?" Sebastian blinked, sipping his wine, eyebrows raised. "Like what? What way?"
"Um, nothing. But, no, you're right. I've never seen her wail on Dex. But⊠I went through the Facility and Henry didn't, maybe that's it. I haven't seen her do that to Dex, but⊠but I remember being a number." Peter swallowed, hard.
He did. Smaller than the others in the Facility, except for maybe one or two. Processed fast and rough because he was an order, a gift for Karen herself. He didn't know who bought him for her, it didn't matter.
He was someone else, and then he was a number, and then he was Peter.
"I've seen numbers who looked like Dex looks now, before. But⊠do you⊠do you think that's why Henry is so weird now?"
"Honestly, I have no idea." Seb eyes his wine, already done with the second glass, and then he rinsed it out and refilled it with water. "I don't⊠I've never known what he's thinking. Even when she first brought him⊠he was always quiet."
"Not quiet like this," Peter said, and left off what he was thinking - not quiet like this to me.
"He's had⊠he's had a bad few months," Sebastian said softly, reaching out to lay a hand over Peter's. "Six months ago he was still planning to go to college. It's a lot to take. Don't⊠don't push so hard, Peter. He's probably just worried and scared. He hasn't had to be like us for long enough, yet."
"He's not like us," Peter said, aware of the stubborn pout in his voice, at the edge of his lips. "He's better. He kept his mind and his memories."
"Is that better?" Sebastian tilted his head, his cowlick twining a curl of blond over his forehead. "Would you want to be trapped here, knowing you could have had something else?"
"I do know that already. We were all somebody else, before. Someone with, with a future."
"Not me." Sebastian shrugged. "I know I didn't have one. I don't know how I know, but⊠but I do. I was never going to have a future."
"I was. I don't remember what it was going to be, butâŠ" The headache came on swiftly, as he tried to think, sharp pain and fog in his mind. He gave up, and instead cocked his head, listening with his good ear.
Henry's music was still playing, loud enough to filter down the stairs and be heard in the kitchen.Â
"He never used to shut me out, before, Seb. Not like this. Sometimes he's normal for a while and it's like⊠like suddenly he remembers something and then he gets all cold again."
"Give it time." Seb patted Peter's hand and went back to his food, sipping at his wineglass full of water absently. "Time, Peter. Be patient. He's young."
"Do you think it's just⊠everything? Because⊠because I feel like it's just me. I feel like I did something wrong. Like⊠like I'm the problem."
"I'm sure you didn't and I am certain you're not," Sebastian soothed. "I'm sure. He likes you, Peter. You're his favorite, of us. He lets you help when he doesn't let anyone else help."
Peter frowned, jabbing at a bit of clam meat. "He won't let me help him now. I just want to keep being nearby, like I was before. Why doesn't he want that anymore?"
Sebastian sighed, heavily. "Teenagers, or something."
"He's eighteen!"
"Eighteen is still a teenager. And you only act like one because, um." Sebastian shifted in sudden discomfort.
"Because I was one when they took me," Peter finished for him. "Dex told me I was. And you get... stuck.â
"Right. Anyway, I'm sure it's nothing, Peter. Don't worry so much. Just let him get through it and I'm sure it'll blow over, whatever he's thinking."
Peter pushed his plate away and stood. "Thanks for lunch, Seb. I'm going to go outside and work some more."
"You're going to go outside and pout, you mean. You're just mad you're not his favorite right now." Seb waved his fork lazily around in the air. "Go on. I'll tell him to go out if he comes down."
Peter frowned, and let his eyes roll up towards the ceiling. Then back down, to see Sebastian's patient, compassionate gaze.Â
"Okay," He said, and wandered back outside. "You do that. Tell him if he comes down and asks about me."
He was outside, sitting on the little bench in the garden, before he muttered to himself, âHe won't. â
He never does, anymore. I wish he'd just, just tell me what I did wrong. He never wants to just be alone with me anymore. Or he acts like he does and then suddenly he doesnât.
If only Peter could figure out why, what heâd done wrong. Then he could apologize, and, and maybe make it better.Â
Sebastian was right.
All he could do was wait, and hope he either figured it out, or it just... went away.Â
But he missed just hanging out on Henryâs floor.
#not whump#original fiction#pet whump#dehumanization#box boy#box boy universe#peter: courage#Sebastian: wisdom#except everyone is a dumbass here#because#WHY DO YOU THINK#captivity#conditioning
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âItâs not like Iâm asking you to dinner.â - Roger x fem reader (smut)
Summary: Itâs 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
In this âepisodeâ: Roger finally gets Reader to go on a date â an actual, real date. And a question is popped. (No, not that one, calm down.)
Word Count: ~5k
Warnings: age gap (21 vs. 35), language (WTF no smut?)
Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes @culturefiendtrashqueen @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80 (let me know if you want to be added)
[A/N: An anon sent me the fluffiest idea and I just had to use (most of) it. And, dammit, Iâm sorry, no smut this time, but it needs to happen this way. Keep sending me those ideas because I need them in order to keep this going!]
Sunday. Finally. A day off. And you have tomorrow off, too, since your boss was kind enough to hire another girl to sit in and answer the phones a few days a week to help out. When Roger brought you home this morning he was headed off with the rest of the guys to go do some interviews so you werenât expecting to hear from him anytime soon. Youâre trying your best not to replay the conversation you had with him last night, but it was stuck on endless repeat in your brain. What did he mean â âIâm not giving you up any time soon,â you keep thinking. This is ridiculous. Heâs leaving, heâll be in Munich, then touring⊠Stop it, Y/N. But you canât stop. Heâs right. You overanalyze everything. This is just fun and heâll move on when he leaves.
You desperately need a distraction, so you decide to start rearranging your albums again, this time by sleeve cover instead of alphabetically. It was stupid, especially because you knew it was going to get on your nerves the first time youâd go to look for one, but it got your mind off of him. Youâre concentrating hard on the task youâve given yourself when the phone rings.
âHello?â
âIâm in the mood for Italian food. Whatâs the best place in this god awful city for Italian food?â Itâs Roger, and you canât help the massive smile thatâs formed on your face.
âDan Tanaâs,â you tell him. âBut they donât open until dinner time.â You hear cars rushing by and horns blowing in the background. âWhere are you? Itâs so loud.â
He starts to chuckle. âIâm on some payphone outside. Dan Tanaâs, you said?â
âYeah, but they donât open until dinner time andâŠâ
He cuts you off. âCan you be ready for 5?â
âYouâre talking to me?â you ask.
Heâs laughing at your awkwardness. âYes, you. Iâll pick you up at 5:00.â He doesnât wait for an answer and he hangs up the phone.
You start to laugh at his sheer audacity. Part of you wants to be difficult and tell him youâre not going when he shows up, but you know you wonât do that. Itâs only noon, but you rush to your closet to find what youâre going to wear.
The hours eventually passed, and you did your makeup three times, changed your clothes four times before finally deciding on your blue dress. You find yourself in the same situation as yesterday evening before he picked you up for that dinner with everyone else â nervous as hell, sitting in your living room, waiting for Roger to knock on the door. And when he did, you had to compose yourself again and not run to the door like you wanted to. And when you open the door, there he is again, wearing a tie â no blazer this time â and those sunglasses. God, do we really need to go to dinner? you groan to yourself, wanting to make him ravish you right there in the doorway.
âHey, beautiful,â he greets you, with a toothy smile and a kiss on your cheek. He holds his arm out for you to hook yours into. âReady to go?â You smile and grab your purse and head out the door. âThought Iâd take you this Italian place I heard about,â he jokes as he walks you to the car.
You hear the people whisper and feel them staring as the two of you are walking inside the restaurant, trying your hardest to ignore them, but itâs hard to do. Roger, on the other hand, isnât paying them any attention, instead focusing his attention on you and making sure youâre guided through the crowd waiting to get in as effortless as possible. The restaurant host immediately recognizes him and hurries the two of you to a table, far in the back away from as many people as possible, but you still feel people looking at you. âIgnore them,â he whispers, leaning over the table and taking your hand in his. âItâs just the two of us, no one else,â he says as heâs giving you a comforting grin. He glances down at the menu. âWhatâs good here?â
âI always get the veal parmesan,â you tell him with a chuckle. âNot that I come here a lot. Thatâs what I always get at Italian restaurants.â
He starts to laugh. âNot the adventurous type?â
âItâs my favorite,â you shrug. Heâs still holding your hand as he looks over the menu, and you sit like that, in silence, watching him, and you canât stop smiling. He glances up and you and smiles back before going back to the menu. You start to giggle at his deep concentration before realizing he probably doesnât know what heâs reading and pull the menu away from him. âPasta, seafood, meat or veggies?â you ask with a giggle.
âMeat,â he playfully growls. âLike a real man.â You roll your eyes and point to the menu section with the meat selections as you push it back to him and he smirks. âI have no idea what any of this is.â He points down. âWhatâs this?â
âLiver,â you tell him, laughing at his disgusted reaction. When he points to the next one, you giggle. âThatâs veal parmesean.â He nods and closes the menu and gives you an impressed look. âI spent a semester in Italy when I was in college so I learned the cuisine. Studied that more than what I was actually there to study.â
He listened to you intently as you talked over dinner. For some reason you were chattier than usual, probably doing it because people kept staring and you were trying to distract yourself. It didnât matter to him â he loved hearing you talk. After the waiter took your plates, he inched his hand to yours so he could hold it again, and as soon as he grabbed it, you were rendered speechless for some reason. Apparently he was too, because neither one of you spoke, sitting there and smiling at each other instead, until the waiter brought your coffee. âDid I ever tell you how beautiful you are?â he says, softly, looking deep into your eyes. âBecause if I didnât, I just want you to know that you are absolutely beautiful.â You smile and he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. âAnd not just tonight. Always.â
Youâre smiling as you melt inside, a different feeling than you usually get when you see him. Itâs not that sexual desire that almost burns. Itâs a flutter, a calmness, a⊠What is he doing to me? you ask yourself. Everyone else disappeared. Itâs just the two of you, no one else, just like he said earlier. You lean over the table to get closer to him. âCome here,â you whisper, and he leans over to meet you and gives you a soft, slow peck, your eyes closing as you feel the warmth of his lips on yours. The moment is interrupted when the waiter brings the bill, snapping you both back to reality.
âLetâs get out of here,â he says as he hands the waiter the payment, standing up and holding out his hand for you. You walk out holding hands, this time not caring that people see you with him, ignoring the whispers and quiet gawking everyone is doing. Itâs just the two of you, no one else, and youâre floating.
Heâs driving around, not sure where he wants to go next, but he does know he doesnât want to take you home â not yet. The conversation is flowing so smoothly, and youâre both enjoying the evening and the company so much you donât want it to end. âTurn here,â you tell him at one point, so he listens to you, knowing you can navigate this place much better than he can. A few minutes later, you tell him to pull over, and excitedly jump out of the car, waving for him to join you. Shaking his head and chuckling, he gets out and walks over to you. âCome on,â you smile and grab his hand, pulling him along as you walk out to a view of the city below. âJust in time,â you murmur as he starts to take in the view. âHavenât been up here in a while. My favorite place to watch the sunset.â He draws you in from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. Heâs done this so many times before, and your insides flitter every single time. As you stand there, wrapped in him, you have no cares in the world. Youâre not overthinking things for a change. Youâre not questioning his motives or even worrying about what the future will bring. Youâre in this moment, and you finally understand why he was always telling you to stop worrying about tomorrow, or the next month, or the next year. Now â thatâs what it was all about. Now, the only time you can control, and this is exactly where you want to be.
âY/N?â he says as he turns you to face him. The sun has just about disappeared from the sky, but thereâs still a slight glow thatâs making his eyes look even more enchanting than normal. You look at him and smile, his face telling you he has something he wants to say. âI⊠uhhâŠThanks⊠for sharing this with meâŠâ His words are stumbling a little, and for the first time since youâve known him, he seems a bit nervous. He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling and piercing your eyes with his. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly catch your breath, and you sense heâs having a harder than usual time breathing as his smile fades and his expression turns serious. He opens his mouth and takes a breath like heâs about to say something else, but nothing comes out. He slowly leans down, and you can feel his breath on your cheek as your eyes flutter, then close as his lips meet yours. His hands slide down your arms before resting on your hips, drawing you in closer as your arms wrap around his neck, and the entire world starts to melt away. You slowly pull back, your hands resting on the nape of his neck, and you slowly open your eyes. He tries to say something again, but the words donât come out.
All you can do is smile, finding this nervousness of his endearing. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. âWhy are you so tense?â you ask him. âYour whole body is tight.â You look up at him, your chin on his chest and and you start to rub his back.
He kisses your forehead and smiles. âMaybe being around you is stressful,â he chuckles, and you push yourself away, pretending to be upset and offended.
âI donât know why I still like you, knowing youâre an asshole,â you laugh as he pulls you back close, leaning down so his nose touches yours.
âOh, you like me?â he grunts sarcastically. âI happen to LâŠâ He quickly stops himself and smiles. âI happen to like you, too.â He kisses your forehead again and pushes your head to rest on his chest. You can hear his heart beating, and you start to giggle again. âStop being cute,â he laughs. âIâm trying to relax and enjoy the view.â
You look up at him again, giving him an adoring look and smirk. âMy view is quite nice to look at.â He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in even tighter. Just as you were about to speak, a car pulls up and four teenagers crawl out. âUgh,â you groan. âIt was nice while it lasted.â You slowly pull apart from each other and watch as these jackasses who interrupted your moment start to walk into view.
âBrownies,â he blurts out, out of nowhere. âYou brought those brownie things to the studio the other day. Those were good.â You look at him, humored with confusion âI want some.â
âI donât know where to buy brownies at 8:00 on a Sunday night,â you laugh. âI made those anyway.â
He grabs your hand and starts walking to the car. âThen letâs go so you can make me some.â Heâs serious and youâre still laughing.
âI canât just make them, Roger,â you laugh. âI need the mix andâŠâ
âWell letâs go find the mix,â he says, hurrying and opening the car door and shoving you in. âWhat?â he asks, starting to laugh at himself when he gets in the car and puts the keys in the ignition.
âThe stores are closed,â you tell him.
âDamn,â he chuckles. âWell⊠Where to next?â
âI donât know,â you giggle. âYouâre the one who invited me out tonight.â He nods and starts the car. âSo where are we going now?â He shrugs and pulls out, not knowing which way to turn on the road and looks at you for guidance. âI donât know where weâre going so I canât tell you where to go.â
âMy place?â he asks, not sure of anywhere else to go. You point in the direction he needs to turn and he starts to drive. He grabs your hand again, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss it, and you look over at him and smile. Youâve been smiling since the second you opened the door when he picked you up, and you donât feel like youâll ever stop smiling again. âTell me, what does a girl from [your hometown] want out of life? I mean, really want out of life?â
You sigh and lean your head back on the seat and gaze out of the window. âAll Iâve ever wanted was to be happy,â you say quietly. âNot that Iâm not a happy person or that Iâm not happy where I am.â You turn your head and look at him. âI just want to be able to take my final breath, whenever it may be, and know that Iâve lived a happy life.â
âWow,â he says, impressed by the maturity of your answer. âUsually people will say they want the big house, fancy cars, loads of moneyâŠâ
âNone of that matters to me,â you say, cutting him off. âSo many of these people in these obnoxious houses have all of that, but theyâre miserable.â You turn your body in the seat so youâre facing him, his hand still holding yours. âItâs not always about material things, you know? I mean, yeah, theyâre nice, but itâs about the people you surround yourself with.â
He starts to laugh, loud and heartedly. âI think youâre the only person out here who feels that way.â He stops laughing and starts to grin. âYouâre too good for these people.â He raises your hand so he can kiss it again, only this time he holds it there for the rest of the ride to his place so he can keep giving it random kisses.
He starts to loosen his tie as you walk inside and head to the living room. âDo you want to change?â he asks. âGet more comfortable?â You follow him back to his bedroom and he pulls out some sweatpants and a t-shirt. His eyes suddenly light up, having an idea pop into his head. âChange,â he says as he heads out the room. âIâll be right back!â He rushes out, not saying a word about where heâs running off too.
After changing your clothes you sneak back into the living room, thinking youâre going to catch him doing whatever he rushed off to do, but you donât see him. You donât hear him anywhere, so you start to wander around the house trying to find him. You should know better by now than to put yourself in a position where he can scare you, but you forget about every other day before this one. When he sneaks up behind you and grabs you, you scream and slap him. âDammit, Roger!â you yell and heâs in complete hysterics. It only takes a second for you join him in the laughter. âStop doing that!â
âNever,â he laughs. You roll your eyes and slap him again. He grabs your hand and walks you to the kitchen where he points at a box of brownie mix on the counter with a proud look on his face. âGot it from my neighbor,â he chuckles. âNice old lady.â
âReally?â you ask with a laugh. âYou want me to make brownies?â He looks at you and pokes his bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout that makes you giggle. You roll your eyes, smiling again, and walk to the refrigerator. âWell? Get me a pan. You have one of those?â
He gives you a big smile and reaches into a bag. âShe gave me one,â he laughs. âEverythingâs in here but the eggs.â After you grab the eggs from the refrigerator you start to look through his cabinets, searching for a bowl to mix everything in. He walks up to you holding one and smiles. âTold you. Everythingâs in the bag.â
He leans on the counter watching you mix the batter and pour it into the pan. âDo you know how to use the oven?â you joke, but he gives you a blank look. âYouâre useless,â you giggle as you set the temperature yourself. âYouâre quite sneaky, too,â you tell him with your back turned. âBringing me to dinner just so you can get me back here to make you brownies. I could have done thisâŠâ You turn around to finish your statement, but you canât, because as soon as you turn around, he plants a kiss on you and smiles. Faking an unamused expression, you stick your tongue out at him and he takes his arm from behind his back and wipes a finger full of brownie batter on your face. âYouâre such a child,â you laugh as he stands there with his eyebrows raised and licks the rest of it off of his finger.
When the brownies were finished, you took them to the living room, where you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. Youâre not sure when you fell asleep, but you wake up on the sofa, curled next to him, your head on his chest. He coughed, and thatâs the only reason your eyes opened. âSorry,â he whispered. âGo back to sleep.â
âNo,â you groaned. âI have to clean the mess in the kitchen.â When you stand up, he stands with you and turns your body in the direction of the bedroom. âThatâs not where the kitchen is,â you giggle.
âGo to bed,â he tells you, standing behind you and bending down to give you a kiss on your neck. âIâll take care of it.â You turned yourself around, ignoring what he said. âI know how to wash, Y/N,â he chuckles. âGo to bed. Iâll be there when Iâm done.â
You shuffle into the bedroom and collapse on the bed, and immediately your brain started running its mental marathon. The entire night was perfect. Dinner was sweet and romantic, even with the crowded atmosphere with the gawking and whispering. The sunset seemed like it was almost special ordered just for that moment. And the rest of the night, here, at his house, had an oddly comforting domestic aura. If one of your friends had told you they were the one who experienced all of this, youâd have been nauseated by the sweetness. You were nauseated, but because, despite all of it, all you could do was think about him leaving. You hadnât thought about it for a second the entire night, but now, being left alone with your thoughts, thatâs all you can think about. When he comes to bed, he snuggles up as close as he can to you and holds you tight, entwining his hands with yours. He meant it when he said he wasnât going to be letting you go any time soon, and this was the first time you believed him. You had convinced yourself that this whole thing was only about sex, but now you werenât so sure anymore. Not now that the two of you spent the entire night together without it, and especially not now that youâre both laying in this bed and neither one of you are trying to rile the other up. But still, thereâs a nagging feeling in your gut kept telling you that you had to let him go, and if you didnât do it soon, it was going to hurt that much more when you did.
He dropped you off at home on his way to the studio the next morning. You stayed chipper enough on the ride, cracking jokes and laughing with him, doing a great job not exposing the thoughts that are swirling around in your head, when all you really wanted to do was cry. Which is what you did the second you closed your apartment door. You didnât even make it further than the door before the tears started to flow. It pissed you off that you let yourself feel things for him.
You sat alone all day, wallowing in the tidal surge of emotions that overcame you, feeling like you were drowning with no life preserver in sight. When your phone rang around 5:00 you didnât want to answer it, but you did, clearing your throat, hoping that would mask the raspiness you knew your voice would hold. âHey, beautiful,â you hear Roger say when you answer. You can hear his smile on the other end.
âHey, you,â you say, almost in a whisper, cringing because your voice sounds terrible. âHowâs it going over there?â
âFine,â he replies but quickly changes the subject before it can be discussed further. âAre you feeling alright? You sound hoarse.â
You feel tears starting to well up again when you hear his voice, but you fight them off. âNo, Iâm feeling a bit icky,â you lie, although not completely. âIt just came over me all of a sudden.â You hate lying to him, but you canât exactly sit here and tell him the truth.
âDo you need anything? I can comeâŠâ
âNo!â you stop him. âNo,â you lower your tone. âIâll be fine. I just need some rest.â Youâre trying so hard to fight back those tears but theyâre not holding back and start to slide down your cheeks. âYou donât need to come. I donât know if itâs contagious.â
He knows nothing is physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong with you this morning. But heâs not going to argue. Heâs going to give you the space you apparently need, and heâs not going to ask any questions, even though he has no idea why youâre blowing him off. âAlright,â he whispers. âIâll be here until 7 or so, so call if you need anything. The new girl is here so sheâll be around to answer the phone.â After assuring him that you would, you can hear him sigh. âLast night was one of my best, Y/N. I want you to know that.â
You close your eyes, wishing he would stop being so fucking perfect, because all itâs doing is killing you slowly. âMine too, Roger,â you whisper. âGo on, theyâll get tired of waiting for you,â you giggle. âIâll see you tomorrow, okay?â
âYeah,â he whispers back, and you can hear his smile again. âI L⊠Iâll see you,â he says and hangs up the phone.
For the first time since the guys have been recording youâre dreading going into work, only because you donât know how youâre going to react when you see him. What you do know is that if you donât stop overthinking and worrying about this then youâre going to make yourself sick, for real this time.
When you walk in, Anna, the new girl, greets you, overly cheerful and eager to be your friend it seems. Youâve met her once before, the day your boss brought her in for the interview. She seems nice enough, but a bit too much to handle right now. Youâre listening to her dribble on about her boyfriend and how much she misses him since heâs out in New York at college when Roger walks in, much earlier than expected.
âHello, Anna,â he greets her, smirking and being the flirt that he canât help but being. âLooking lovely today.â
She starts to giggle giddily. âHey, Roger,â she says, her cheeks turning a bright pink. You roll your eyes and smirk, finding the whole scene amusing.
He looks over and sees you sitting at your desk and smiles. âAnd you, Y/N, even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.â
Oh, fuck, you groan to yourself. Just seeing him ruins everything, because you had your mind set on ending it with him. You were going to tell him today, maybe tonight. Or next week. Or next month. Or the day he left. You didnât know anymore. That damn smile⊠âNot looking so bad yourself, Mr. Taylor,â you tell him, still smirking and unable to break free from his eyes.
âCan you come help me with something?â he asks, walking closer to you, not smiling anymore. You hesitate, but follow him into the recording room anyway, closing the door behind you. He takes your hand and guides you to the sofa in the back of the room and sits down. âLet me in, Y/N,â he says softly. âTell me whatâs going on in that pretty head of yours.â
This is not the conversation you want to have right now. You werenât ready, but you knew it had to be done. âYou make me feel things Iâm not supposed to be feeling and itâs infuriating.â You look down at him as heâs sitting there, looking at you, and he has that damn smile on his face. âDonât smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.â Heâs tickled by your frustration, but you donât find it funny. You canât deny it anymore because that night, in the studio â that was fucking perfect. Sunday night â that was fucking perfect. Every minute spent with him, even if itâs just talking about some minor thing â fucking perfect. But you didnât want to feel. You didnât want him to feel. You just wanted to have your fun and move on when he did because you didnât want to get heartbroken. You were the heartbreaker, not the recipient of it. âI donât want to feel anything, Roger.â
âBut you do,â he says. âI didnât want to feel anything either.â
âWell, stop feeling it,â you staunchly tell him. âYouâre only going to be here another month or so andâŠâ You look at him and sigh. âWeâve already talked about this.â
âWell things have changed,â he said with a bit of force, startling you a little. Your want to walk away, but you canât. Heâs holding on to your arm and pulling you closer to him. âIâm going to Montreux for a few weeks when I leave here to work on some solo stuff before going to Munich. Come with me.â
âW-what?â Shocked. Thatâs all you felt. Shock and, oddly, sick to your stomach. All you can do is sit down.
He turns his body to face you and grabs your hands. âI need you to come with me.â His face was serious. This wasnât some game anymore. This wasnât what any of this was supposed to be. âI fucking need youâŠâ He cleared his throat. âI donât want to leave you here.â You canât even speak. This has caught you so off guard you canât even think straight. âI never wanted this to happen either, Y/N, but it did. And now, well, now I canât stop it. And neither can you.â He leans over and gives you a soft kiss on your completely flabbergasted lips and smiles. âI donât need an answer now, or even tomorrow. Will you just think about it?â You shake your head. âThatâs all I ask.â He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling that damn smile you can never say no to. âYou said all you want out of life is to be happy. I know I can make you happy if you let me.â
You know he can. He already does make you happy. And you donât know why you arenât yelling at him that yes, you will go with him, that youâll go anywhere with him. You canât say anything. Youâre not even sure if youâre breathing right now. All you do know is that youâre engulfed in his stare, in his smile, and in the feeling heâs giving you with his hand on your face. Heâs rendered you completely speechless again, but suddenly you start laughing, confusing the hell out of him. âThis is stupid,â you giggle, confusing him even more. âI shouldnât have to think about this.â
He starts to giggle too, albeit nervously. âNo, you should. Itâs not like Iâm asking you to dinner.â
âRoger, IâŠâ You can finish what you want to tell him because everyone walks in, ready to get to work, but you canât take your eyes off of each other. He knows exactly what you were about to say, because he replied without even hearing it.
âMe too,â he whispers with a smile.
[part 7>>]
#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor fanfiction#roger taylor x y/n#roger taylor x fem reader#roger taylor x you#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor fic#roger taylor smut#1983 roger
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The Route Thief
Sumary: Everybody used to tell me to stop playing those games, but what can I do? An otome game is pretty addictive and specially if is one like Wizardess Heart. This game is my life! Wait, I didn't mean literally... Then, why I'm suddenly inside on my game!? Is that Hiro and Zeus? When I said this game is my life I didn't mean to want that this game BE my life!
Pairing:Hiro x Marian
Chapter 5
The travel on train was definitely the best of my life. I've had never ride a train ever before! It was fantastic. Clarisse was accompanying me, but only to the front gate of the academy. I was already wearing my uniform, and I was surprised when I saw that it was a black uniform from the Night Class. I'm going to be on the Night Class!
"You look very excited young lady."
"Yea, I'm pretty nervous actually, I wonder if I'll be able to fit on that place."
"I'm sure that you'll be just okay."
The landscapes where so beautiful. This place is more big and amazing than I ever thought. After a long trip, we finally arrive to the Gedonelune station. We walked on the streets for a while and buy a few groceries. They give me one of those perams and I love it! Of course I didn't bring many things whit me, first because the stuff of Marian doesn't really are my taste, just a few casual dress might do the trick, and second, if there's something I learn from my first day on college is that more than the 50% of your packings will help you nothing. You can find new things wherever you go anyway. And in this place I'll be using my wonderful new black uniform so, I don't need that much. After a while we arrived at the main gate of the Academy.
"You finally show up!"
Oh God, I recognize that booming voice.
"Do you have any idea of how long I've been waiting for you here!?"
"Hi Zeus, sorry I just have to buy some stuff at the city."
"This is not the place for you to go shopping!"
Okay, this guy can't chill out at all huh?
"Hurry up, I'm late and I have a lot of things to do. I've no time to lose."
"Okay, okay. Thanks for accompanying all this way Clarisse."
"My pleasure young lady. Please take good care of you."
I stared walking along whit Zeus, well, actually I was trying to keep his steps.
"You didn't bring more luggage?"
"huh? No, I'm fine whit this."
I brought out my peram and raised proudly.
"huh... Really?"
"Where's Hiro?"
"He is working, or at least I hope he's working!"
He then let go a huge yawing.
"Gosh, this is a pain."
"Are you tired?"
"Huh? Uh, well, we're Night Class, when you get used is hard to stay awake at daytime."
"I see. Where are we going?"
"You're making so much questions today."
But he seems more relaxed somehow. At least he doesn't scream anymore.
"I have to take you whit the headmaster and then to your room."
"I see. Don't you feel hot whit that scarf?"
"Seriously, you are starting to get on my nerves..."
Zeus took me all the way to the headmaster's office. All the buildings were more than a picture, and I was absorbed on all of it. Is there a way to take pictures? When we entered the office, I was surprised to see that the headmaster was Rembrandt, this means, that I'm on a time beyond of the first seasons, probably the labyrinth still exists, but seriously, seeing Rembrandt in person, was a totally different deal. He was impressively tall, including his horns. And his tail didn't stop of moving someway or another. I just stayed there speechless while he was telling all the rules and welcomes for the new student. I was the only one anyway. He said about the party that'll be held tonight, or something like that, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He was precious on the game. On real he was stunning. After that, Zeus walked me all the way to the Night Class building. We were passing the old cemetery, just like in the game. Since I already know I wasn't surprised at all but still, it feels a little chilly.
"How is that there's a graveyard so close of the school?"
"What? Scary?"
He asked whit an amusing smile
"No, I was just thinking on how strange is that, besides, the fact that there's a school in the middle of a graveyard is also out of place don't you think?"
"Hmm, you're not funny."
Whit out saying nothing more Zeus took me all the way until we reached the girls dorm. I must to say, that the simple picture that you see on the game doesn't make justice for the real thing. The Night class building, was like one of this old big mansions of the Victorian times. I love that style, I always was a fan of Gothic aesthetics.
"Here, this is your room. You don't have a roommate, and there's no servants, so you'll have to take care of your space by yourself. You think you can do that spoiled child?"
He was wearing on of those arrogant smiles of him.
"Are you telling me that Hiro doesn't do everything for you?"
He startle at my question.
"Of... Of course not! I also do stuff you know! Like... Clean and all that!"
"If Hiro forces you it doesn't count."
"Nhg!... Wh-Whatrever! There's a party at the big auditorium at night so make sure you be there on time understood!? And I'll be not coming for you!"
I think I'm starting to get Zeus. I already made my mind, I won't let that the past interfere whit my present. Hiro's words still were stuck on my head. It doesn't matter anymore, who this lady Marian was. I am Marian now, who knows for how long, so I'll be living this life at my way from here. This place was really huge! I have my own living room and kitchen, also there's two bedrooms but I'll be the only one here, so probably I'll use it like an office. I always wanted one! When the sun stared to fall, life raised on the dorms. All Night Class students show up, and they were chatting whit enthusiasm of the party of tonight. I've never were good making friends and is hard to me to approach new people. But this guy's, doesn't seem to care. They keep whit they business and ignored me like I was just somebody else. Somehow, it make me relax. The only girl that spoke to me was my neighbor of the front door and it was just for ask me not to be noisy at daytime since she sleeps all day. Not that I care, I've never been a noisy person anyway.
I followed a group a long of the way so I didn't get lost on my way to the main building. Enter the auditorium was such a vision. I definitely feel like I'm on Harry Potter, hehehe, how funny! Now, could it be that I meet some other boy of the game? Oh! Look at all that food! I love buffet!
"Hey Goldstein!"
Huh? Goldstein? That voice, that's definitely... I knew it! Is Zeus! I stood behind a column and watched the scene. Zeus was making his way through the people and heading to... That's Klaus!!? OMG is Klaus! And that two pigtails girl...no way... Seriously!? Is that Liz!? So she still is the MC uh? Why didn't I reincarnated on her? It will have been funnier. Zeus stared to talk whit Klaus. This scene... It seems to be familiar. Suddenly Zeus corned Liz against the window, I... Seen this before... Isn't this...? OMG! This is the first CG on Zeus's route!! Even Hiro is there just drinking his glass! Wait... Then, the timeline, is in Zeus's route!? Zeus had a fiance all this time!? How do this work? I don't understand but this is definitely the events on Zeus's route. Rembrandt approached the group and start talking, yea I also remember this. I think on moving from my spot to another more close but I bumped into someone's back.
"Ouch! Oh! I'm so sorry!"
"woa! Careful, are you okay?"
He turned to see me and I didn't give credit to my eyes. That angelic smile, those crystal eyes, That's Alfonse! I petrified while I admire him.
"You didn't get hurt do you?"
"Eh!? Ah... I'm ... I'm okay, sorry I stumbled on you."
Calm down! Calm down! Calm down!
"Don't worry, is normal when there's this much of people. Well, I need to get going, enjoy the party!"
"Eh, ah, su-sure... You too..."
Gosh! Why do I always ruin it like this! I didn't learn anything of all those games!? Alfonse leave and walked towards another boy, no way, that's Caesar! Please I don't want to stumbled on him if I do I don't think I'll manage well, I'll just embarrass myself again. I follow them until they walked towards... Liz. Wait, where do Zeus go? And Klaus? Oh right, this is were Liz meets Alfonse and Caesar. I need to properly remember all.
"What are you doing?"
"Kyaa! Hiro!? You scare me!"
"Sorry. I see there's no change whit you huh?"
"huh? Do you mean my head? There's... A few but not my memories."
"I see."
"Wait, what are you doing here? Weren't you whit Zeus?"
"I lost sight of him when I got this."
He bring a plate whit different color muffins on it.
"Oh, that looks good."
"Have you tried the food, is good."
"I was about when I... Got interrupted."
"Really? There's a table."
Hiro pointed a table full of many different types of dishes, but what bring my attention was the pasta dishes. Actually, I was working as a waitress on an Italian restaurant on my past life. I fell in love whit Italian cuisine, but, I don't know if something related exist on this world. I serve myself a plate of spaghetti that looked tasty, and when I tried.
"Mmm! Gosh this is delicious!"
How can be possible that they have the perfect savor!?
"You like it?"
"Is so good! I was missing Italian food so bad!"
"Italian?"
Yikes! That doesn't exist here!
"Huh, I mean... That's not the name of this dish?"
"Of course not, that's spaghetti whit meat sauce. Where did you bring that?"
"Oh! Hehehe I... Reed it on a book, I guess I misunderstood..."
"You even forget that huh? But it seems you like so try a little more."
Gosh! I think I saved!
"You know, there's a good place on Queensblade where they serve the best spaghetti whit meat sauce on the world."
"Really? Is even better that this?"
"A lot better."
He smiled me, and my heart skipped a beat. God, he's so beautiful.
"I'll love to try it some day."
"Maybe some day. Now try this."
Hiro passed me another dish that seems to be lasagna.
"Mmm! This is also wonderful!"
And like that, Hiro and I spend a while trying every dish and dessert available. If partys are always like this I want to go to more!
"If you keep eating like that you'll get fat."
"So what?."
"Don't girls get worried for their weight?"
"Food is nothing for you to have to feel guilty about. They bring all this so you can enjoy yourself so that's what in going to do! Who cares weight!"
"Hehe, really?"
Hiro smiled again. This moment, it feels so precious right now. I hope, I can keep getting closer to him.
"What about you? You're eating a ton."
"I exercise so I don't get worried. Besides, who says no to free food? We worked so hard to get everything done in no time. I think I deserve a good meal."
"All is fantastic, it surely seems difficult to pull out."
"At the beginning it was supposed to be a party for prefects only, but headmaster changed his mind and we had to prepare more."
"Huh? Why the sudden change?"
"I don't know. But I'm glad everything went right."
So many dishes after, Hiro offered to walk me back to the Night Class.
"Uff, so many food, so late at night. What time is it?"
"More than ten o'clock."
"Ten on clock!? Is so late now."
"Is pretty early yet."
"But many are leaving too."
"Those are Day class. For you and they it surely is late."
"Wait, I have to get use to the schedule too!"
"Good luck whit that young lady."
"Don't call me like that!"
Hiro laughed and I playfully give a punch on his arm. Soon we reached the cemetery and the coffin that was the door to the Night Class.
"Can you continue for yourself from here?"
"Huh? You're not coming?"
"I got to search for Zeus. He can get in trouble if I don't watch on him."
"I see. Thanks for bring me here, I'll be alright, I think I remember the way."
"Good, then, see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight Hiro."
Hiro leave, and I went down stairs to the Night Class. I need to remember now, the events of Zeus's route. To bad I don't have my phone here. But I think I can remember the most. I saw Alfonse and Caesar tonight and a eat a lot of tasty food whit Hiro. Is been a long time since the last time I feel so good. But there's things that still bothers me. I wonder if I can... I don't know... Change the events of the routes?
To be continued ...
#the route thief fan fic#shall we date wizardess heart#zeus brundle#hiro tachibana#alfonse goldstein#caesar raphael#OC
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If you donât like onions, this is not for you
Spoiler alert: this also contains meat so this is definitely not for all you vegetarians or vegans out there. (Sorry, not sorry)
But if you love Italian food, specifically tube shaped pasta, onions and meat, youâll absolutely adore this dish. Iâm talking about a sauce that has a lot of onions and braised meat, cooked for hours, eventually melting away to form this sweet, meaty, gooey sauce thatâs paired perfectly with al dente pasta, garnished with fresh herbs and as much grated parmesan as you like.
The dish Iâm talking about is Tortiglioni all Genovese, a pasta sauce from the region of Campania in Italy. According to some very half-assed internet research (Wikipedia), it was introduced to Naples from Genoa during the Renaissance. And since then, it has become very famous in the region but forgotten elsewhere mysteriously.Â
I came across this gorgeous dish when in Naples, at a restaurant that specialises in ragu called Tandem. Of the many delicious and numerous pasta dishes we ordered that evening, when this dish hit the table and went into my face, I was immediately jealous that it was Kei who made the order (sheâs always had the better judgement when it came to menu items) and proceeded to eat most of it.Â
The dish was luscious and velvety, where you could taste the sweetness of the onions, married with a subtle hint of the sea (they used octopus instead of beef). That experience has lingered with me ever since.
And so in this time of social isolation, coupled with the fact that Iâm stuck at home after an ACL reconstructive surgery on my left knee, meant that this was the perfect opportunity to try to recreate this Neapolitan classic. However, if you google âPasta alla Genoveseâ, itâs all becomes very confusing because all you seem to get from Google are recipes for a pesto-based pasta with fine beans, which is not what this is all about.Â
Amidst the confusion and hysteria, I turned to New York Times Cooking, where they had a delightfully clear and simple version of the recipe by Mark Bittman, food author.Â
Sidenote: Mark (yes, weâre on a first name basis) has written a bunch of great cookbooks like the incredible âHow to Cook Everything: 2,000 Simple Recipes for Great Foodâ which is one of the better books if youâre looking to start cooking. As a warning, it is a mammoth of a text as it literally has 2,000 recipes so have a sturdy bookshelf before ordering.
So after endless onion prep, cramp from standing on my one good leg and a cook that lasted over three hours, I instinctively knew that this recipe was going to be near and dear to me before it was even completed. And the final result was everything I had hoped for and sent me to carb heaven.Â
Like my experience in Naples, what stood out to me the most was the amount of flavour and joy packed into every bite. You could taste the natural sweetness of the onions and the slight âoomphâ from the chuck steak, enhanced and tempered with only time and heat.
Ultimately, this is an incredible expression of what I believe good food should be, simple ingredients cooked with patience and love. I hope you try the recipe and love it as much as I do. Enjoy.
Tortiglioni alla Genovese
Servings: 6 to 8 (or 3 to 4 if youâre me) Cooking time: 3 1/2 hours (strap in and open some wine)
Ingredients
2kg red onions, thinly sliced (wear your goggles or prepare to cry for awhile)
Extra-virgin olive oil (use that good shit)
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
2 celery ribs, trimmed and roughly chopped
120g pancetta, chopped (I used 180g because that was the package it came in and I didnât want to keep a random 60g of pancetta lying around, plus animal fat = flavour)
1kg beef chuck, cut into 2-inch cubes (or any alternative cheaper, leaner cuts used for braises or stews)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 bay leaves (I used four because I got mine from Chinatown that comes in a giant packet for cheap. Therefore I worry that the quality of the leaves arenât as good as the ones you would get from a farmers market or fancy supermarket so I overcompensated)
Handful of oregano leaves (or you can tie a bunch of oregano together and fish out the stems later on. I like leaving the leaves in and Iâm lazy to pick stems out)
Some dry white wine (to taste and drink while you cook)
500g dried pasta, like ziti, tortiglioni or rigatoni
Finely grated Parmesan cheese
Fresh parsley, finely chopped
Preparation
Use a large heavy pot over medium high-heat, season your beef chuck cubes and coat them with oil. When pot is hot, starting putting the beef cubes into the pot to brown the meat on all sides. Be sure not to crowd your pot or else it wonât brown properly. You may have to do this in batches but once done, set browned meat aside. Additional note: You may skip this step if you want as browning the meat is slightly unnecessary. I only did it because I wanted the beef to hold its shape for a bit more bite at the end. In fact, according to more half-assed internet research (i.e., one other internet link), most classic Italian recipes will call for a large cut of beef chuck steak, which would be set aside once cooked and served as a second dish. This is how I did it but itâs your kitchen, your choices.
Heat a healthy glug of extra virgin olive oil in the same pot over medium-high heat again; chuck in the carrots, celery and pancetta and cook until itâs browning or caramelised (DONâT FORGET TO SEASON AND ADD PEPPER AS YOU GO, TO TASTE)
Add your onions to the pot, seasoning again as the salt will draw out the water in the onions quicker, you may even add a splash of water at this point if youâre worried that the bottom will burn because youâve never seen so much onion go into a single pot before unless youâre cooking a giant batch of French Onion soup.
When it looks safe and it doesnât look like your bottom is burning, chuck in the browned beef cubes. (Pun fully intended)
Add in your bay leaves and oregano and give your pot a little stir.
Bring it all to a simmer, cover it and cook it low and slow for two hours (or more), you will be amazed at the amount of water that will come out of the onions. It will almost be as much as the tears you shed while prepping 2kgs of onions by hand.
Once the meat is squishy and tender, uncover and crank up the hit all the way to bring it to a boil. This is wear you will need to be a bit more active with the stirring, making sure nothing sticks and burns at the bottom. Fiddle around with your heat if you need to. Cook until the meat falls apart or you can stab at the pieces of meat as youâre stirring to help it along a bit. This will be roughly 45 minutes of stirring so you best be ready.
Once the meat is falling apart and the sauce is thick, gooey and beautiful, add half a glass of wine to it and bring your heat down to low. If youâre a drink while you cook type human, you should have just enough white wine left from when you first opened a bottle at the start of this cook. Or perhaps you need to open your second bottle. No judgements here, just solutions.
Stir until the sauce is glossy. When you canât taste the alcohol in the sauce anymore, itâs good to go. Although if youâre on your second bottle, best get someone to taste just to be sure.
Cook your pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water. I wonât go into detail here because Iâve covered how I cook pasta in this recipe here. (Donât @ me)
Garnish with parsley and parmesan.
Eat all of the pasta.
Food coma.
#recipe#food#pasta#genovese#napolitan#naples#tandem#foodporn#homecooking#nytcooking#carbs#carbsarelife#omnomnomnivore#noms#ragu#coronavirus#quarantinelife
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Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 4.
Fandom: The Society.
Summary: Campbellâs just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make itâ itâs everyone else heâs worried about.
Rating: Mature.
Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful
Word Count: 4295
Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 5 || AO3
It was week one of the new rules.
The first day, a group text  went out saying that food people already at home could be kept, but  anything still in stores would be rationed immediately. People had three  days to pack and move homes. Work schedules were posted at the church.  Campbell felt relieved at getting clean-up duty; it would keep him busy  and give him something constructive to do. Unfortunately for Elle, she  got stuck with meal prep for lunch. She sighed, but gave him a little  wave and made her way to the cafeteria to start.
He hadn't known  what to expect when he got to the hardware store, but it was bad.  Broken out windows, a burned out car, lights smashed out. There were  some other guys already there, passing out tools and making lists of  what needed to be done. Grizz showed up with an SUV to tow away the  burned car; Campbell helped him hook it up, before moving on to some  poor sucker who was looking at a ladder like it was going to bite him.
"Here, I've got it. It's alright."
The  boy looked cautious, and a little confused, but then he offered a weak  smile of gratitude. "Thanks. I don't do well with heights."
"I don't mind." Campbell shimmied up and eyed the lights that needed to be replaced. "Have someone send me up some bulbs, yeah?"
Everyone  worked until a text went out that it was time to eat. Lunch was almost a  nightmare. Campbell had known from the start that, at some point, he  was going to have to face the fact that avoiding meat was no longer an  option. It had been ten years. It still made his stomach turn thinking  about it, but well, there wasn't going to be a lot of room to be picky.  Lucky for him, this time, there was a vegetarian option.
"I  convinced them to make a plain marinara," Cassandra said quietly as she  sat next to him at a secluded table in the corner. "But we won't be able  to do that forever."
Campbell stabbed a piece of pasta,  pretending it was his uncle's face. It was their family's fault they  were in this mess to begin with. "Thanks. We should gather up a list of  people with allergies, though. They're gonna matter more in the long  run."
"True. Lily has been asking about gluten, and I don't  think it was just a fad diet thing. We can't have what happened to Emily  happen to anyone else. Maybe we could have a dedicated space in the  kitchen for people with allergies. Or even use a kitchen in another  restaurant."
"You're also gonna have to figure out what to do for people who are diabetic or just need different meal times."
"Yeah. Well, this is just the first day; it's going to take some time to get it perfect. We'll figure something out."
"Of course." Campbell glanced up from his food. "How's the ticker going?"
"I  have enough medicine to last me a while. Longer, if I take the bare  minimum. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere any time soon."
"Good. What are you doing over here, anyways? You're just starting to get some good PR."
"Mm, I actually have a question for you. You know that I've formed a committee to help figure things out around here."
"I saw."
"I  was wondering if you wanted in." Cassandra held up her hand when Campbell opened his mouth to object. "I asked Harry, but he said no. If  you were there, I don't know, maybe he'd feel less bitter."
"Oh, I highly doubt that. We're having a little not-exactly-lovers quarrel at the moment."
"Please,  Campbell? You're realistic, you're brutally honest when it counts, and we  need someone who can be objective. It'd be good for you."
"Why don't you ask Allie?"
Cassandra  hesitated. "She and I already had a fight over that. I told her the  town would see us as the same person, but..." She let out a slow exhale.  "Allie is too impulsive. She doesn't listen."
"And you think the relationship between you two will smooth over if she knows you picked me over her? No, Cassie. Hard pass."
"You said yourself, you're the idea guy."
"Then  write my ideas down and pass them off as someone else's ideas, if you  want anyone to agree to them. No one will take you seriously with me  there, and then we'll all be fucked."
Biting her lip, Cassandra  leaned back in the plastic chair and examined her hands. "Fine. But  still, Harry is going to be a problem. You know that, right?"
Of  course he knew it. Harry wasn't a bad person, not really. Like most  guys their age, he was young and foolish and had a mouth he never really  knew when to shut. He was avoidant, insecure, and took things way too  personally. He was still pissed Cassandra won class president, and that  had been months ago. Yeah, he was gonna be a problem. Campbell munched  on his garlic bread while he considered the options, not that there were  many. "I'll see if I can talk some sense into him. Get him to join the  committee."
"I'm sure he would, if you said something. He listens to you. He trusts you."
"Maybe  he trusts me, but he doesn't listen to me. Harry's a frightened puppy  who falls behind whoever he think can protect him. But he doesn't listen  to anyone."
"But you'll try? For me?"
"For you."
"Thanks, Campbell."
She  smiled, and then she was gone, off to go do leaderish things. Campbell  sighed to himself, finishing his lunch and heading back to work; he  didn't get to see Elle, but they were all busy and trying to get used to  their new lives. There'd be time to talk later. Him, he had an entire  street of shops to help repair. With them all working together, the  hardware store was almost completely cleaned up by the end of the day.  They still needed to fix the other stores, but it was slightly less of  an eyesore, and Campbell was too tired to think about what was in the  stuff Will's crew served for dinner.
The days oozed by, and  Campbell settled into the routine of it. He really only got to see Elle  in the mornings and after the work day was over, but at least there was  always enough time to cuddle in and read or watch a movie together. It  was quiet. Peaceful. She never asked much of him, and he didn't expect  anything from her. Was that what it felt like, to have a normal life?  Whatever it was, Campbell found himself slowly, very slowly, starting to  relax.
"You're in a better mood," Cassandra commented the next  day at breakfast as she hung up prom posters outside the cafeteria;  Elle and a few others gave them a long glance as she walked by. "I think  you might be the only one."
"Who knew that all I needed to get  my head right was to ditch the assholes making me miserable? I don't  know, like all this sucks in a lot of ways, but there's no snotty soccer  moms looking down their noses at me."
"Mental health symptoms often improve with a decrease in stress."
Campbell  reflected on the last few days. Any time he walked around town, before,  he felt like people were staring at him. Whispering about him.  Paranoia? Maybe, but Campbell knew plenty of times he'd entered a room  of chattering people and had it go silent. West Ham didn't take kindly  to oddities. Since they'd arrived at this strange clone of West Ham,  though, that sort of thing had eased up. He still wasn't eager to be  around people or associate too closely with Cassandra, just in case, but  a sort of uneasy truce had fallen over the town. People were trying to  get along. Those who couldn't manage to be civil to Campbell just left  him alone. It didn't seem a coincidence that Campbell's temper had  mellowed at the same time.
He didn't expect it to last. If  there was one thing he'd noticed over the years, it was that his best  behavior came and went on a regular basis. It's not like he ever stopped  being what he was. ASPD, anxiety, depression, OCD, whatever people had  going on in their heads, it didn't just disappear, even when things  seemed better. It just meant people were coping. But it was still a  break from the constant screaming inside his head, and the ever-present  anger was just a dull simmer. He'd take it, even if it wasn't  permanently gone.
Will passed out little cards to everyone,  asking about dietary requirements. All anonymous. Elle managed to join  Campbell for lunch, filling out her little card next to him. He let her  peek over at his, and she let out a little hum. "I noticed that you  didn't eat meat. When did you become vegetarian?"
"When I was little. Saw a dead animal, never got over it."
"At least we have someone who'll eat all the tofu we've got in the freezers."
"Yum,  yum. Love me some bean curd." Campbell leaned over and kissed Elle  lightly on the shoulder. "I did wanna ask you something. I saw you  looking at the prom posters. Wanna go with me? It might be fun."
Elle's eyes brightened. "You want to take me to prom?"
"Of course I do."
"I thought you didn't like crowds?"
"Well, if it's for you, I can handle one evening of socializing."
The  thought turned his stomach a little, but Elle let out a happy sound and  tugged him into a tight hug; her curled his arms around her and  breathed in her scent, smiling. He knew he wasn't a great person. He'd  fucked up more times than he could count. But things were looking up,  and he wanted Elle to be happy. If that meant a night of dressing up  like a yuppie and swaying around to bad music, Campbell would suck it up  for her.
He sneaked a look at one of her dresses that night  when she was in the shower. Cassandra allowed the clean up crew to take  one item they wanted or needed as payment for a job well done, so  Campbell chose a royal blue dress from one of the fancy shops downtown.  It was more revealing than anything else Elle had, but Campbell had seen  the kind of magazines Elle read, and would see her fawning over the  super skinny models with sexy clothes. Maybe she was just too scared to  buy something like that for herself.
In all the way things were  changing for the better, one thing had changed for the worse. Harry was  ignoring Campbell. He'd ended up with dinner serving duty for the next  three weeks; the algorithm was random, according to Gordie, but Campbell  wondered if someone hadn't fudged it a little to teach Harry some  humility. It didn't seem to be working. Instead, Harry was withdrawing  into himself, and completely brushed past Campbell at dinner to go sit  alone, slumped over and picking at his food.
Maybe most people  didn't notice or care, but Cassandra picked up on it five or six days  after the big argument. She tugged Campbell aside at lunch, crossing her  arms over her chest. "What did you do to Harry? He's acting like he's  been kicked."
"Ever considered maybe it's the fact that he went  from being a rich pretty boy on his way to law school, to dishing out  slop and having his home become the opening scene from Home Alone?"
"Seriously? That's it?"
"I  told you some people were gonna take it hard, being forced to share  spaces. We're not the only people here with problems, you know." Campbell glanced over to where Harry was sitting. Harry looked back at him for a split second, then turn away. "Some of us have lost more than  others."
Cassandra pursed her lips. "I'm not changing the plan.  If we run out of water or electricity, he's going to be in even worse  shape."
"You asked. I answered."
"And that's really it?"
"Yeah," Campbell lied. "Yeah, that's it."
Cassandra  didn't look convinced, but she let it drop. Thank fuck for that.  Campbell didn't know what he was supposed to do. Their fight must have  been part of the problem, considering Harry was avoiding him like the  plague, but Campbell had been as nice as possible about it. And what did  Harry expect, anyways? Right place, wrong time. It wasn't that Campbell  had magically moved on. There was still a familiar longing in the back  of his mind. At the end of the day, though, Campbell was going home to  Elle. He was cooking snacks for Elle, playing Scrabble with Elle,  practicing Spanish with her and listening to her sing in French while  they cleaned the house. She didn't know Campbell's deep, dark secret,  and she didn't ask; they just existed together, and damn it, Campbell  was happy.
Sometimes you had to give up on one love, to keep another. Even if it hurt like hell.
Whatever  heartache Campbell had left faded the night before prom. He folded the  dress he'd gotten Elle up and placed it in a box, presenting it to her  at dinner. "I hope it's okay," he said. "I kinda had to guess what you'd  like."
"What's in it?"
"Just a little something for prom."
Elle  perked up, pushing aside her dinner of lettuce and water to take the  box. She lifted the lid and pulled the top of the dress out, her eyes  going wide as she examined it. A light blush crossed her cheeks. "Oh!  Campbell, I don't know if I can accept this."
"Don't worry, I didn't steal it or anything like that. I got it for cleaning up downtown. You don't like it?"
"No, I... I love it. I do, thank you."
Campbell took her hand and brushed his thumb across her skin. The stammer in her voice didn't lie. "There's something wrong."
"I  really do like it. It's just..." Elle frowned. She squeezed his hand,  looking over to the pile of plain lettuce on her plate. "I've been  trying to lose some weight, and it shows a lot of skin. I don't know."
"There's nothing wrong with your body, Elle. You're gorgeous just the way you are."
"Say that to every major magazine."
"With  the models who are airbrushed to convince you that you need to buy all  sorts of expensive junk, and every other week there's some new bullshit  miracle diet?"
"Campbell, that's not--"
He shook his  head, cutting her off before she could defend those trashy rags. "Just  try it on. If you don't like it, we can raid someone's closet and find  something more conservative, but you deserve to feel as beautiful as I  think you are."
"Fine." Elle leaned in and gave Campbell a  chaste peck on his lips. Their first kiss. She smiled a little and  pulled away, before Campbell could kiss her back. "Thank you. I guess I  really would rather have a bagel with this."
"Then we shall go home and find you a bagel."
"And cream cheese?"
"Absolutely."
They  got up and were heading towards the door when they passed by Harry's  table. He was sitting with one of the majorly unpopular kids, whispering  something about offering up his expensive cars in exchange for...  something. Campbell paused. Trading workshifts? It was against the  rules. It'd be easy enough to just let Harry go ahead, get caught, and  get who knew what sort of punishment. But Campbell knew Harry wasn't  just being lazy. He was struggling. Getting punished for having a hard  time adjusting didn't seem right.
"Are you okay?" Elle asked.
"Yeah, I just need to talk to Harry. Can you go on ahead and I'll catch up to you?"
"Sure. I'll be outside."
The  first kid had turned Harry down, so he'd moved on to some poor ginger  who looked like he'd never had an ounce of fun in his life. "Move!"  Campbell barked at him. The kid picked up and scrambled away without a  single glance back. Harry glared at Campbell as he sat down, but  Campbell barely blinked. Harry could just be mad about it. "What are you  doing? Trying to get out of work is just going to make things worse for  you."
"This is fucking humiliating," Harry snapped. "The others  talk down to me like I'm a child, or haven't worked a day in my life.  Nineteen people moved into my house and no one even bothered to see if  they were people I'd get along with. They don't pick up after  themselves, they make messes everywhere--"
"Hey, hey. Breathe. Let me talk to Cassandra about it after prom. Everyone will be in a better mood then."
"I don't care. I'm done."
"What do you mean?"
Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything. I'm just frustrated, okay?"
It  was a complete lie. Campbell knew exactly what Harry was talking about.  "Come spend a couple days at my house. We have room. There's some food  left, too. You can get some rest and I'll make us lunch. We can play  some video games or something."
"I can't."
"Harry, c'mon. Don't do this to yourself."
"That  house is all I have left of my family, Cam. Maybe you don't miss your  parents, but I miss my mom. I miss my sister. I miss my..." Harry's  voice cracked. He shook his head and curled in on himself. "I'll be  okay. Just give me some time. Please."
Campbell sat down next to  Harry. Harry sighed, but didn't move as Campbell leaned a little  closer. "I can give you time, but listen to me. Remember when we first  met as Cassandra's party?"
"Yeah, I do."
"You told me  that you'd decide for yourself what I was like. You didn't care what  anyone else said. Have I ever done you wrong, in all this time?"
"No. You haven't."
"Then  do what I'm telling you now. You think I like picking up trash?  Cleaning up after the fucks that were at your party, after they went all  apeshit on the town? No. But you need to play it smart until we get  back home. Understand?"
"Did Cassandra tell you to say that to me?"
"In  case you haven't noticed, Cassandra and I are related. We share the  common sense genes. I'd be telling you this either way."
Harry  gave a hollow chuckle. "We're not gonna get home, you know. Something's  wrong here. The committee of hers won't find anything. We fucked up,  somehow, and now we're trapped."
"Then the smartest thing you can do is smile, nod, and try to get along. I don't want you getting hurt."
"Yeah.  I get it. Must be the apocalypse, if you're getting all worried about  me." Harry looked to Campbell. He smiled, just for a split second,  before it faded again. "You better get going. I know Elle's waiting for  you."
Well, that was a dismissal. Campbell stood and left; Elle  was waiting for him under the trees, the fading summer light making  shadows from the leaves dance across her skin. He was lucky. Damn lucky. That's what he had to focus on. They went home and Elle tried on the dress, keeping the door locked so he couldn't peek; she came out in her  pajamas, with a bashful smile on her face.
"It fits," she said. "I'll wear it."
"Aw, I don't get to see?"
"You get to see tomorrow night."
Campbell  pouted, but laughed when Elle grabbed his hand and tugged him into his  room for a particularly ruthless game of Battleship. He lost twice, but  it was worth it. Elle had a cute little way she'd smile when she got a  hit, and she'd throw her fists up into the air when she won.
"I  guess you win the night," Campbell said as he plucked the little red and  white pegs from his board. "Unless you wanna make this next game winner  takes all?"
"What does the winner get?"
"Whatever they want."
Elle  tapped her index finger on her lips. "Hmm." Her eyes narrowed, and she  seemed to regard him with hint of suspicion, but then she shrugged and  picked up her board. "I'll take that bet."
Sucked for her,  because Campbell won the last round. Elle groaned and pretended to flip  her board, before flopping backwards onto the bed. Campbell smirked. "Do  you concede?"
"Never." Elle peered over at him. "What do you want for your prize, if I did?"
"Maybe you could stay with me tonight?"
"Just sleeping?"
"Just sleeping."
He  didn't want to be alone. Not after all the shit with Harry. Not that  he'd admit to it, because he was trying to ignore it and trying not to  look like a fool in front of Elle, but it struck a nerve he hadn't felt  take a hit in a long time. He hated having useless emotions. And in  situations like the one they were in, pining over your best friend when  you had someone who liked you already was about as useless an emotion as  you could get.
"Okay, but I get breakfast in bed tomorrow."
"Deal."
Campbell  waited until Elle bounced off to take a shower, and then texted Dillon.  He was a member of the committee, so Cassandra must have trusted him a  little, and he was one of the least offensive people who was living in  Harry's home. Hey, can you keep an eye on Harry? He's not talking to me and I need someone to call me if anything's wrong.
Sure I can do that, Dillon texted back.
Thanks. Drumming his fingers on the phone, Campbell opened his texts and scrolled down to Harry's messages. I was serious about everything I've said, okay? If you need me, call. Â
There  was no reply. Campbell hadn't expected one, but he hoped it was because  Harry was pissed still and not because Harry had gone and done  something terrible. It was tempting to just go over there. He should  have, he knew he should have, but Elle was standing in the doorway of  his room in her cutest pajamas with a little smile on her face. It was  late, and Campbell didn't want to run out on Elle. If something was  wrong, Dillon would call.
Elle turned out the lights and curled  up with Campbell in bed. resting her head on his shoulder. He drifted  off first. The last thing he remembered was her kissing his temple, and  tugging the blankets up around him. When he woke up the next morning,  Elle was sleeping on his arm, and he couldn't feel his fingers. Campbell  managed to wiggle loose without waking her up. A quick glance at his  phone revealed no new messages, no calls. He sighed. Maybe no news was  good news after all.
Breakfast in bed was the last of the eggs,  done up as an omelette with cheese and the a scrap of ham that needed to  be eaten before it went bad. Campbell stared at the inside of the  fridge. Soon, they would have no choice but to just go to the cafeteria  for all their meals. All that would be left soon was the stuff in the  freezer or in tubs. Emergency provisions. If things went sideways and no  one managed to figure out food, he didn't trust most of the populace to  make sure he and Elle survived.
"Hey," Elle yawned as she came down the stairs. "That smells good."
Campbell closed the fridge and tried to look as cheerful as possible. "Morning. I thought you wanted breakfast in bed?"
"Kinda, but I wanted to come help more. Want me to make coffee?"
"Sure."
Watching  her pad around the kitchen and make coffee was a joy in and of itself.  She yawned again, rubbing her eyes and running a hand through her  tussled hair. Campbell grinned as she loaded up the coffee pot and zoned  out watching it. Precious. She was precious. There weren't many people  that he'd felt he would do anything to defend-- Sam, Cassandra, Harry--  but he knew right at that moment that whatever happened in the future,  he would do whatever it took to make sure she was okay.
She caught him staring. "What's wrong?"
Campbell  opened his mouth, words right on the tip of his tongue. You're  beautiful. You're important to me. I think I... But then his phone  buzzed in his pocket. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just glad we both like dark  roast."
"Drink of the gods."
He murmured an agreement as  he pulled out his phone and checked the messages. He paused, blinked. It  was from Sam. It was short and to the point, which was unlike Sam. Can I come over?  Campbell frowned. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Sam. He wanted  to. But what did Sam want? More of his things? Maybe he was worried  Campbell had gotten rid of stuff. Who knew what shit their parents had  convinced Sam that Campbell could, or would, capable of.
Campbell replied, curiosity getting the better of him. What time?
Now, came Sam's answer.
 Okay. See you soon.
"Who's that?" Elle wondered as Campbell tossed the phone onto the counter.
"Sam. He's coming over in a few minutes."
"Oh? Is everything okay?"
Campbell  shrugged, stroking Elle's shoulder as he walked towards the front door.  "He probably just forgot something he needed or has something from  Cassandra. I'm sure everything's fine."
Either way, he was about to find out.
#the society#the society netflix#the society fanfiction#the society netflix fanfiction#the society fanfic#the society netflix fanfic#the society fic#the society netflix fic#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#writing#campbell eliot#sam eliot#elle tomkins#harry bingham#cassandra pressman#cw: substance abuse#cw: drugs#wroughtwriting
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Hi Sharme!! Hope you're well and finally got to sleep đđđđ For the ask thingy - 1 - 20 please đđđđ xxx
Awww thank you so much Neha đ indeed, Iâm finally home, took a little nap and here I am. Also hoping to catch on my sleep all through the weekend xoxo
And guys, brace yourself. Playing 20 questions is going to be long here lolâŠ
Ask game âą
1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?
I have more milk than cereal because I looove to drink up the cereal flavoured milk after. Imma Dork yeah.
2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?
On my cheek⊠maybe?? On my noseâ definitely no. So I wrap up my scarf extra tight around my face on cold winter mornings.Â
3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?
LOL, I just glanced at the two books on my side table right now and one has my comb in it and the other has my nail filer as bookmarks. I usually use my flight tickets cause I have a lot of them.
4: how do you take your coffee/tea?
Only tea. No coffee ((except pumpkin spice lattes)). I take my tea with milk, one spoon full of brown sugar and a pinch of homemade spice mix for tea. Masala tea, anyone?!
5: are you self-conscious of your smile?
Nope. But if a picture is being clicked somewhere, then heck yes.Â
6: do you keep plants?
I kill my plants. But I try. I swear I try.
(( rest under cut lovely people ))
7: do you name your plants?
I tend not to cause I donât wanna feel like I murdered my own babies. But they are not really babies cause tiny humans keep making noise and Iâd know its time to feed them unlike the silent plant beings. Last week though, I bought this tiny string of pearls in a cute lil pumpkin pot and I have named him dobby. I love string pearls okay, and after my tag rant on a particular hp post yesterday, I named him dobby today.
8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?
I can always rant to my friends. But I write it all out mostly. I have three different journals for a reason and a regular diary to scribble everything else in.
9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?
I hum to myself at times. Not a great singer here with my screechy voice, excuse me.
10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?
I sleep on my side, I curl up on myself with a pillow for my feet and on my sides. No pillow for my head though, I have a sensitive neck.
11: whatâs an inner joke you have with your friends?
My⊠name. Yes, my name is a running joke in my friendsâ circle.
12: whatâs your favorite planet?
You kidding me?? Its Earth. Until they find an equally awesome planet to live in, Earth would be my favourite.
13: whatâs something that made you smile today?
My mum sending me random pictures of every little thing sheâs packing up in my diwali care package. I canât wait to get my hands on it!!
14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?
If you consider Edinburgh a big city, I have already lived that scenario with my best friend in a charming old flat right in the middle of the city. And I loved every minute of it. Wish I could go back to those simpler times. My entire adult life, like ever since I was 17 I have lived only with friends.Â
15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!
Unlike Earthâs cool as a cucumber Moon, other planets in the solar system have a hell lot of weird moons is what I learnt from my latest google search. Like take Saturn for example, one moon has a dark and light face like some jedi/sith war for generations, other has liquid on its surface but that liquid is not water, and the spectacular rings around the planet could be from a smashed moon. Jupiter has a moon that has volcanoes exploding all over it like hellfire. Uranus has a very broken looking moon that could still be crumbling until the next time we get a good picture of it. And lets not forget about all the weird storms that have been raging on Jupiter and Saturn for centuries, yes for Centuries. Yikes!! Also, did you know thereâs this massive black hole coming for us at a speed of 5 million miles?? But its still 8 billion light years away. Iâm not good at math but Iâm guessing its gonna take another million years before it reaches us?? I may look upon the stars fondly and even love them, but the unending darkness in the outer space TERRIFIES me.
16: whatâs your favorite pasta dish?
Eaaaasyyy. Lasagna. I love me some meat lasagna. I donât have the patience to make one though.
17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?
I already answered this. Iâd love to have a deep dark red ombre effect going on in my hair.
18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.
One dumbest thing I did was write my own name as Shareme, in a test paper nonetheless cause I was extremely sleepy that day. My professor called that out specifically when he gave back the graded papers and ever since that day, my name is a running joke for everyone. A funny thing, there is this one group picture from our various trips where I have my eyes obviously stuck on my crush (long past) and of course my friend who clicked it posted it on social media and EVERYONE had something to say about itâŠughhhh. Itâs still embarrassing to think about that picture.Â
19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?
I keep three journals and one diary. I write all happy memories in one, sad emotional stuff in the other, and things for future in the third one. My diary is for jotting down story ideas, doodling or plain ass scribbling from top of a page to the very bottom.Â
20: whatâs your favorite eye color?
Brown. Period. Other eye colours are cool to look at and I at times find them beautiful too. But I love brown eyes. Itâs familiar. Itâs comfort. Itâs home.Â
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In Living Color Ch 10
A/N: Alright friends...I know I've been gone FOREVER. I went back to school and got my masters. I just graduated the program the end of April. Then a week later my family suffered a tragic loss. My father-in-law passed away unexpectedly and my muse disappeared as I took care of my husband and his family in their time of grief. Thank you for being patient with me. I'm on summer break and hoping to do quite a bit of writing. Unbeta'd so 100% of the mistakes are mine.
Pairing: Bethyl
Catch up: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10
or read on AO3 or FFN
âYou what?â Daryl hissed narrowing his eyes.
âI-I mean. Iâm imagining what colors might look like.â She faltered. âMy daddy used to tell me all about them when my mama was alive.â She took a tentative step back, away from him. The look on his face read like thunder and Beth was scared sheâd just dug herself a hole she couldnât get out of.
Darylâs heart hammered back to life in his chest as the knot in his stomach loosened. The second this little slip of a girl had mentioned colors Darylâs heart had stopped and his stomach had dropped to the floor. It would be his luck to get stuck with a girl who was more than likely going to get him dead than anything else. Hearing that she was only imagining helped to ease the fear and tension in his gut. Daryl stared at her for a moment longer, just studying her. Heâd never really allowed himself a moment to do that; shouldnât really be doing it now either if he was completely honest.
She was young. Really young. Blonde hair that shone like sunshine and blue eyes that were way too innocent and made his stomach tighten uncomfortably. She was way too sheltered, and it was going to get her killed. Daryl felt a moment of sadness touch him at that thought, but brushed it off. Lots of people die in this world, heâd do his best to see her trained properly, but after that it wasnât his problem. His eyes watched as she nervously fidgeted with the pocket of her pants and for a fleeting moment he recognized how she could be considered pretty; by younger guys. He corrected. Guys her own age. He clarified in his mind. Definitely not him. âYâreally shouldnât be out here.â She gave a quick nod before taking a hesitant step forward while tucking her knife away. âGoâon.â With that she scurried away. Daryl stood for a moment, trying to clear his mind.
His eyes scanned the area and he resisted the urge to smile. If she could see color, this definitely would be a good place to come. His eyes scanned over the greens and browns. Yeah, this definitely would have been the spot.
~~~
Beth wiped her brow as she scrubbed the dishes. Her eyes watched as people milled around the yard. She saw Daryl talking to Rick down by the barn and her heart thumped a little faster. Ever since her little slip up in the woods, three days ago, sheâd been avoiding being around Daryl. It wasnât that she liked him...heavens no. He just made her feel so off kilter. He seemed to keep to himself, and study. That was something new.
No one ever studied to make their own conclusion. At least not when it came to her. Everyone always assumed that she was helpless, and in need of protecting. He didnât seem that way. He was keen on coming to his own conclusion. And thatâs what made her nervous. He could possibly be the only one on this whole farm that would see her; truly see her. And she didnât want to mess that up...if she hadnât already.
She watched as her daddy approached the duo, sharing a few words before Daryl gave a few short, curt nods and stooped to pick up his crossbow and headed out into the woods. No doubt they were discussing the food stores. While the farm was getting by on the crops that daddy had planted, all the extra mouths were making those food supplies dip mighty low. They were going to have to go out for a hunt; see if there wasnât some game they could flush out to help stretch the food a bit longer. Beth sighed. She could make something like spaghetti tonight. The pasta would feed a lot of mouths on a smaller supply. She could toss in a few of the tomatoes from the garden to help stretch the sauce. That might buy their little group some time until a proper hunt to help find more food.
~~~
âAfternoon, boys.â Hershel said as he neared Rick and Daryl. Both men tipped their heads. âI got kind of an odd request. Our food stores are running a touch low,â he hedged carefully, âIâve been tryinâ to stretch the crops we got so far, but Iâm afraid it ainât much without some protein.â Both men nodded. âWe got some livestock animals, but if we sacrifice one, thereâs no tellinâ how that will hurt us in the long run.â
âSay no more, Hershel.â Rick offered. âIâm sure we can find somethinâ in the forest.â Hershel brightened as Daryl stooped to scoop up his crossbow.
âThat would be mighty fine of you sirs.â Hershel nodded. âItâd be a nice surprise for Bethy what with her birthday cominâ up.â Daryl paused as he turned to leave the group.
âBethâs birthday is coming up?â Rickâs voice rose in surprise.
âYes sir. Day after next.â Hershel shoved his hands in his pockets gently. âWe donât do much for it, considering. But itâd be nice to have a full meal available. Kind of a celebration of sorts.â Rick nodded and cast his eyes to Daryl who gave a low grunt before moving off towards the perimeter fence and the forest.
Daryl thought as he quietly moved through the green and brown underbrush. She may be a small, slip of a girl, who was woefully unprepared for the world she lived in, but that didnât mean she didnât deserve to have a decent meal on her birthday. Hell, it might help put some meat and muscle on her frame so she could get stronger. He gave a snort.
He needed to find some game for the group anyway. Having Bethâs birthday was just an extra excuse to get out here and hunt. It wasnât like he liked the girl. No...definitely not.
~~~
Beth groaned as she peeled her shirt up over her head. Sheâd had a hard day today. Sheâd woken bright and early intending to train before her chores, but Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Sheâd had to settle with doing some extra mucking in the barn, and plowing some of the fallow fields to get ready for their late summer crops that needed to go down. Sheâd worked clear through the day and felt about ready to drop, but she couldnât she still needed to get down there and make dinner for everyone. She sighed as she swiped the cool damp rag along her neck and dropped it back into the sink. Sheâd give herself a better clean up after dinner, once everyone had settled for the night.
Without a second thought she pulled another shirt over her head and turned to leave the bathroom. Quickly she made her way downstairs only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw everyone piled in the kitchen around a dinner that was already made and smiling up at her.
âHappy birthday Beth!â Lori called, followed by Maggie, Hershel, Rick and most of the rest of their group. A bright smile lit up her face as she stared at everyone. Rick came up and slung an arm around her giving her a gentle hug.
âWe know it ainât much, but we put together a little something for dinner.â Rick swept his hand over the table that was just covered with food. Beth let out a small gasp.
âOh my goodness.â She breathed staring over the meal. There were carrots, potatoes, green beans (canned of course), and rabbit.
âSnared us a couple a rabbits. Figured we could enjoy some today and then store the rest. Use them for different meals.â Bethâs eye shot up to Daryl and she smiled.
âThat was very smart of you Daryl.â She breathed. âWe can make jerky and maybe make some soups from the bones.â She offered. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at the adorable shade of red his cheeks started to turn at her praise. The fact that he - that anyone - had gone to so much trouble for her was astounding. âMy word.â She shook her head. âThank you everyone. This is so amazing.â She looked around at everyone one more time. âLetâs eat. I canât wait any longer.â She was met with a round of cheers as everyone milled around to start the festivities.
Daryl stood back, hunched against the wall, watching everyone. He hadnât seen their little group this happy in a long while. Whoâd have guessed that all it took was a few measly rabbits to put everyone in high spirits. His eyes darted to Maggie who was laughing with Beth at one end of the table. He noticed Glenn hovering a touch too close to Maggie, but for some reason couldnât find it in him to be bothered. He didnât have a swell of emotion within him like he would have thought he should if another man was sitting a little too close to his soul mate. Not like the swell of pride heâd gotten when Beth had paid him that compliment about the rabbits. If he was that way with a nobody, shouldnât he have stronger feelings with his soul mate? Trust the Dixon gene to be so fucked up that even this soulmate shit didnât work correctly.
He let out a sigh. It would just figure.
~~~
Beth smiled and sighed as she splashed cool water on her skin. Tonight had been amazing. So much fun and so much food. They hadnât eaten that well on the farm in a long time, and it was nice to have one night where everyone was free to laugh and eat until they had to be rolled away from the table.
Gingerly she cleaned herself, scrubbing away the dayâs grime and smells. She felt like a whole new person. It was amazing what a good meal and a night of laughing could do for a person, mind, body, and soul.
Beth tugged on a tank top, ready to climb into bed and sleep like the dead. She froze as sounds ricocheted off the walls from the windows as from inside the house. Her blood ran cold. Those were walkers. Lots of walkers. And they were close. She jumped as someone pounded on the door to the bathroom before flinging it wide. Her frightened eyes landed on Daryl as he surveyed her. He reached out, grabbing her wrist before tugging her out of the bathroom.
âCâmon girl. We gotta move.â
âDaryl, whatâs goinâ on?â She cried as she heard gun fire from outside and the shouts of their group members.
âWalkers.â He responded as he pulled her downstairs. âA lot of them.â Her eyes widened. âWe canât stay here.â
âWhat?â He all but dragged her through the front door and the sounds seemed to become deafening. She froze on the spot at the bottom of the stairs to the porch. The sheer amount of walkers pouring in from the fences. Her eyes jumped from the walkers to the members of their group spraying them with bullets in a feeble attempt to hold them back. Â
âMove Greene!â Daryl yanked on her arm, spurring her into action. He flung her towards a motorcycle before climbing on himself and kicking it on. He felt Beth climb on behind him. Her arms circled around him and he spurred the bike onward into the night.
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I May Have a Tiny Crush
Or, The Full Story of How Don Lothario and Darren Dreamer Ended Up Smooching.
(Frankly I donât know if I can see these two settling down into domestic bliss together, but lifeâs short and I want to sail on every ship I can.)
Cassandra Goth was beautiful. Cheekbones like a pair of stilettos carved from some fine, dark warm marble, flushed with life. That mobile mouth, twisting instantly from a sullen frown to a distracted smile. Dark honey eyes and the untamed curls of an Italian shepherdess. Flashing. Remote. Untouchable. Moocha should have painted her, a slender nymph in a scrap of white silk.
He should have painted her.
She was beautiful as she stood there sobbing, mascara streaking down her cheeks, angry bunched fists ruining the expense lines of her wedding dress.
Don Lothario had muttered, âIâm sorry, Cass,â and left her standing up there alone. What kind of way was that for a man to end a relationship? Darren would have walked barefoot over broken glass to be the man standing with her under that wedding arch, and Lothario had just thrown it all away.
âŠ
It would probably be the wrong moment to tell Cassandra that he loved her.
Don was seriously considering leaving town. If it wasnât for all the work heâd put into establishing himself at Pleasantview General, heâd have packed his bags two weeks ago.
Half the damn town had been at his non-wedding, and the other half had heard about it, and the consensus was clear - they were two sides to this fiasco and they were all on Cassandraâs. Would it have been better if heâd just gone through with it when every cell in his brain was screaming at him to run? Cassandra Goth didnât want a man to be married out of a sense of obligation, did she? Sheâd see that eventually.
Hopefully sooner than later.
Don had given up a huge fortune and the woman (okay, fine, one of the women) he loved just so that sheâd have a real chance at happiness with someone else. He was practically a saint.
pasta, pasta, which brand do I like again?
He snorted. Okay, maybe a nomination to sainthood was a bit much too ask. But he didnât deserve a complete shunning, either.
Even Kaylynn wasnât return his calls. Too busy with her new girlfriend - Don still couldnât believe the Pleasants had planned that seduction as a couple. He wondered if Cassandra would have ever been up for planning a fling with the maid.
are fresh peas really that much better than frozen? maybe worth trying
Nina was always happy to see him, but she was happy to see plenty of other people too. Don had wasnât more than that. It was selfish, but he wanted to be the most important person in someoneâs life. He wanted to settle down. It was why he had proposed.
So why had he left her, then? Because, Don reminded himself firmly, because he was in love with different three women and in that moment, he had realized he hadnât cared which one of them was standing under that arch.
tomatoes? this one feels nice and ripe
Cassie deserved better.
She deserved someone who loved her like - âAfternoon, Dreamer.â
Darren Dreamer actually glared at him, which was a laugh. Don wouldnât have expected a guy as passive as Dreamer to do anything more more cutting than pretend he was deaf.
Don cleared his throat.
âDo you need something?â Dreamer snarled.
âYouâre standing in front the lemons,â Don said mildly.
Dreamer stalked off towards the bread in a huff. Don shook his head. Don barely knew the guy, but everyone knew Dreamer had been carrying a torch for Cassandra (well, everyone except for Cassandra, who was the most single-minded woman Don had ever met. She just hadnât noticed other guys once sheâd started dating him. It had been flattering - at least, until heâd gotten to really know her.)
(He had still enjoyed it.)
how do you check lemons? Do you smell them?
If Dreamer was so in love with Cassandra he should be fucking grateful they had broken up. Now at least he had a chance.
Don shrugged.
There was no helping some people.
what else was in the meat sauce recipe? I knew I should have written it down
Models were the flakiest damn species on the planet. Darren dropped the phone down on the receiver and swore. Heather sat on the sofa looking beautiful, bored, and totally at ease wearing nothing but Darrenâs spare bathrobe.
He was going to have to put off painting and he would still have to pay Heather half her rate just for showing up and drinking his coffee.
Darren drummed irritably against the phone table, trying to decide if he could pose Heather solo and at least get a start on the sketches. Work on her back, maybe. He glanced idly out the window.
Don Lothario was jogging past outside.
The artistic soul was strong in Darren. In that moment, Don Lothario was no longer the bastard who had broken the heart of the woman Darren loved. He was just a very good specimen of the male sex, tall and lean with slightly unruly dark hair and warm brown skin.
Darren shot out the front door.
âLothario! Hey, uh, Dr. Lothario. Are you free right now?â
        *                        *                        *
âYou want me to what?â
âMy male model canceled on me at the last minute,â Darren explained, âbut I need to paint right now, while the image is still in my head. Youâre a little old but youâve got good muscle. Good flesh tones. Beautiful eyes. Green like Heatherâs, which is too bad, but ⊠youâll do. Iâll pay you, of course. What do you have on under those track pants? Youâre comfortable with nudity, arenât you? You are a doctor.â
Don considered the phrase, âNo fucking way,â but he swallowed it. He considered. âYou must really be desperate.â Don glanced over at the cute little co-ed on the couch. He could imagine worse company. And Darren Dreamer would probably be on his best behavior. âI guess I could help you out, Dreamer. For artâs sake.â
âGo ahead and strip then,â Darren said, shining with relief.
âI wonât even charge you. Itâs not like I canât spare the time. Iâm newly single, remember?â
The shot missed. Darren was arguing with his other muse.
âYou want me to work with a total stranger? What if heâs a creep?â
âMr. Lothario, sorry, Dr. Lothario isnât a creep, Heather. Would I ask a creep to model with you?â
âYou donât have to keep calling me doctor.â
âI want hazard pay,â Heather said firmly.
âFine, Iâll give you your overtime rates. But thatâs just for today. Donât think this is a permanent raise. Now get that robe off so I can make sure your bruises havenât smeared.â
âYessir!â
Don began pulling his pants down.
âLet me retouch the one on your thigh. Okay, Lothario, Heatherâs going to be strangling you. Itâs a easy pose for a beginner because you can just lie there.â He smudged something purple onto Heatherâs smooth white thigh. Don needed to either stop watching or put his pants back on.
âYouâll be lying prone on the floor, sheâll be crouching over you, hands around your neck. Heather can do the heavy lifting on expressions, so donât worry about that. I want a 50s look, so Iâll need to put something in your hair ⊠â
       *                        *                        *
âLook, I get it,â said Heather, "but Iâm not flattered or interested.â She gave Don a second look and shrugged. âNot at the moment, anyway. Just try and think of me as a piece of furniture.â She shot Darren a look. âThis is why I like working with Jimmy. He knows how to act professional.â
Darren frowned at Don. âNo, donât look embarrassed,â he admonished. âThatâs not even close to the expression I want. The erectionsâs good, though. Heâs supposed to be egging you on, so ⊠Can you ⊠â
âDarren, if he touches me with that thing I am out.â
âIâm doing my best,â Don said. He sounded mortified.
âHold it,â Darren said. âLet me just finish that part of the sketch - and mix some paint samples. I want to capture that color.â
âArtists!â Heather groaned, all her exasperation rolled up into one ball. Don looked like he understood.
âI canât believe I agreed to do this again.â
Don was sitting on the counter in Darrenâs kitchen in just his underwear, letting the other man comb pomade into his hair.
âI really appreciate it,â Darren said. âBut Iâm guessing youâre here more for the lovely Miss Huffington than for art.â
Don stiffened. Heather? The lovely, luscious girl in the other room? He hadnât even thought of her when Dreamer had phoned him up and demanded he come back for a second sitting.
Don would have expected him to beg. He wouldnât have guessed a man who still hadnât tried making a play for Cassandra to have so much âŠ
Passion.
Cassandraâs consuming, singled-minded interest in every new hypothesis, the way sheâd stop at nothing to teach it to everyone else âŠ
The way Nina threw herself headfirst into everything, no safety nets, no restraint . . .
Darrenâs total absorption in his own work, death and blind to everything but the vision in his headâŠ
Don liked passion.
He shook his head to clear it. âDonât move,â Darren said gently. He put a hand on Donâs jaw to steady him. His skin was warm and dry. âYouâve got such thick hair,â Darren muttered. His eyes were far away. â I shouldâve have painted you in bed, mussed from sleep, stretched out against the sheets with the sunlight filtering down - no, moonlight - moonlight dappling over your skin-â
Had Dreamerâs voice always been that ⊠husky?
Heatherâs right, Don thought. He shifted just a little on the counter. I need to learn to control myself. Or at least keep it in my pants.
âThereâs no way I can bend my arm like that.â
âAre you saying you arenât flexible enough?â Darren shook his head and tsked. âI knew I should have stuck to younger models.â
âOh, Iâm plenty flexible, old man-â
âI just bet you are,â Darren muttered.
âYou should try yoga,â Heather chimed in from underneath him.
âI do yoga.â
âWhat, seriously?â
âEven if I could get into the pose,â Don went on, ignoring her, âIâd probably strain myself holding it. Donât they teach you anything about basic anatomy at art school?â
âAll right, Doctor. What do you suggest?â
âWell, if you really want to have that fold of sheet visible, then I could âŠâ
âYouâve got some paint on your cheek.â
âWhere?â
âHold on, Iâll get it.â
remember to breathe
âŠ
heâs a flirt. he flirts with everyone.
There still werenât many people in Pleasantview who would invite Don Lothario out for a drink. He definitely hadnât expected Darren Dreamer to ever be one of them.
âWell, you wonât let me pay you for modeling.â Darren got Marylenaâs attention and ordered them both beers. He asked Don about an upcoming surgery he had mentioned the other day. Don got very eloquent about the use of internal splints to fix spine reticulation.
Darren divided his attention between Don and a sketch he was making on a cocktail napkin.
âWhat are you drawing?â
âI donât think Iâve ever gotten the shape of your eyebrows right.â
Don snorted. âShould I keep my face still? Are my many medical exploits distracting you?â
âNo, I like watching them move.â He made a few small strokes with his pen. "Actually, can you hold right there?â
Don didnât know why he listened. He had no idea why he was doing a lot of things, lately. He watched Darren drawing quick sketches of his brow, his nose, his mouth âŠ
âOne of your models asked me out.â
Darren jerked to attention. âHeather? She didnât break up with her girlfriend, did she?â
âNot Heather. Tiffany. The one with the obvious trust-fund. Whatâs she doing slumming as an artistâs model, anyway?â
âYouâll have to ask her on your date,â Darren said. He crumpled the cocktail napkin heâd been sketching on into a ball and started tearing small pieces off it. âBetter take her someplace nice.â
Don sipped his beer. âI let her down gently. Sheâs a little young for me,â he said. He glanced carefully at the man on the next barstool. âWhat about you?â
Darren looked up. His own eyebrows rose. âAre you asking me out to dinner?â
Don choked on his beer. He coughed. âHave you ever gone out with one of your models?â
Darren snorted. âOf course not. If youâre too old for them, what does that make a fossil like me?â
Those girls arenât that much younger than Cassandra, Don thought. You arenât that much older than me. And the edge of both those thoughts stung.
Darren ordered them another round of beers. âIsnât this supposed to be a good season for stargazing?â
Don perked up instantly. âIt really is! See, the orbit of the moons âŠâ
It was the fourth time heâd agreed to pose.
Darren didnât know why Don kept agreeing. He didnât even know why he kept asking. He liked young models. He liked the quality of their skin, the vulnerability of youth.
It was the difference between a sapling and a tree that had grown into, well, solidity. Maturity. That whole self-contained universe that trees get to be when they grow up.
No, that made it sound like he was starting to prefer older models.
darleen would have said i was finally growing up
Don said posing left him free to do nothing but think. That was what he liked about it. âGives a chance to read through patient reports and new medical journals in my head.â
just a little blue there so the brown is more brown
cerulean? no, cobalt
Darren wanted to split his head open, pull out everything going on behind Donâs bright green eyes and set it against the deliberate sensuality of the pose.
He wanted to capture the passions, the dichotomy, the muscle and skin and mind of the man in front of himâŠ
He wanted to capture the man  âŠ
He wanted . . .
       *                        *                        *
Posing left Don free to look.
Darren Dreamer was absented-minded. He was terrified of spiders. He had the worst pollen allergy Don had ever seen. Ever surface in his house was covered in books and he was constantly picking one up (usually right in the middle of a conversation, sometimes when he was the one doing the talking) reading a few paragraphs, and putting it right back down. He lived completely off leftovers from meals his kid had cooked.
But put a paintbrush in his hands, or an idea into his head, and the man was transformed. Don had gotten addicted to watching him, mercurial, transfixed, enraptured, inspired, muttering to himself about color and light.
And he really could paint.
And when he was painting him, he looked at Don like he was most fascinating thing anyone had ever seen. Like he was an object, but a beautiful object. A treasured object. Something that existed just on Darrenâs whim. It was almost a challenge.
Lots of people had been attracted to Don, and most of them had bothered hiding the fact, but no one had ever looked at him like Darren Dreamer looked at him.
And the spider thing was actually kind of cute.
âDonât move your head.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre moving your head again. The wrapperâs going to fall. Hold still.â
"Yeah, all right.â
âI donât see why you canât hold still,â said Darren, a man Don had never seen sit still for more than about 10 seconds at a time. He surged forward in his usual impatient way and began messing with Donâs hair. He tucked the condom wrapper back into position where it could resume imitating a laurel leaf. Then he took a possessive hold on Donâs head and began twitching it back and forth. âWeâre losing the light,â he complained. âThereâs a certain light I want to paint you in. If I could just paint you properly-,â his finger skated over Donâs jaw, â-youâre too good for Dionysus, youâre-â
Don kissed him. His lips brushed against the corner of the other manâs mouth. He wondered which of them was more surprised.
Darren murmured, âWhat are you-â
his voice is fucking sexy
âI-â Don You - you reminded me of Cassandra.â Wrong thing to say. Maybe the wrongest thing anyone had ever said.
Darren shoved Don right up against the wall and glared at him more intensely than he had ever glared over Cassandra. "Youâre not getting out of this that easily, Lothario.â
And he kissed Don right back.
âIf weâre going to do this,â Darren growled, âThe only name youâre going to say is mine.â
#ts2#the sims 2#simfic#i may have a tiny crush#pleasantview#darrendreamer#don lothario#the whole thing one post
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The Sun Shines Brightest In The Dark
[10:14] Eren: hey, how r u?
[10:22] Levi: Good. Sitting in class right now. You?
[10:24] Eren: suffring thru 1 of my dadâs lectures
{10:25] Levi: Fuck.
[10:26] Levi: I hope youâre alright.
[10:26] Levi: Anything I can do for you?
[10:27] Eren: u already have :)
[10:28] Eren: but maybe dinner tonight?
[10:34] Levi: Sure, when and where?
[10:35] Eren: iâm off work at 7
[10:36] Eren: small restaurant named Wall Rose?
[10:40] Levi: I like the Rose. Okay, Iâll meet you there at 7:30?
[10:41] Eren: awesome <3 i canât wait
[10:51] Eren: hey Levi
[10:51] Eren: is it alright if i wear a dress?
[10:52] Levi: Wear whatever the fuck you want, brat, as long as you bring yourself.
[11:12] Levi: Eren? You okay?
[11:14] Eren: ⊠iâm good. thx Levi. <3
[11:15] Levi: Youâre welcome. Talk to you later.
[11:16] Eren: later
.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.
Eren slowly leaves the public toilet while clicking his purse shut. He pushes his work clothes deeper into the plastic bag in his right hand, then makes his way towards the Wall Rose. His heart is beating like mad in anticipation from the feelings Leviâs text induced within him. It still warms him to his core -- and it made him bawl like a baby for ten minutes after he had received it.
Leviâs too good to be true. Just like a dream in which everything in his life works out for once. Every time he thinks about him, there is a flutter in his stomach and warmth spreads throughout his body. The sight of Leviâs smile alone would be enough to chase away the bitter aftertaste his fatherâs lecture left in his mouth.
God, Eren has it bad.
He yearns to hear Leviâs voice again, to tell him a joke and make him laugh -- he wants to get Levi, his desires, his fears, his passion. And it scares the fuck out of him, as he has never quite felt like this before. If Armin could see him now, he would probably tease him, but his friend is away at Stanford.
Eren approaches the Wall Rose carefully, looks around if Levi is already there. He sees him sitting on the stone bench at the fountain, his phone in his hand. Heâs making such a disgruntled face that Eren cannot help but chuckle as he approaches him. Levi is so obviously distracted by whoever writes him that he only notices Eren when the brunette talks to him.
âYou look like you bit into a citrus.â
Levi almost jumps into the air in surprise. His phone slips from his hand. He barely catches it in time.
âGeez, Eren,â he admonishes. âYou scared the fuck out of --â Any words he wanted to say get stuck in his throat at the sight of his date. It sends a shiver down Erenâs spine to see Levi speechless because of him.
Heâs wearing one of his favorite dresses today. It is an A-line skirt dress in such a dark green that it is almost black. It reaches only down to Erenâs bare knees which are not covered by tights today. Instead, Levi gets an eyeful of smooth skin and long legs. They end in intricate dark brown sandals whose straps wind around Erenâs calves like snakes. The brown haired wig Eren wore during his performance sits snugly on his head again. The wavy brown hair softly cascades down his back. He smiles and blushes under so much scrutiny.
It takes Levi several minutes to find his voice again. âFuck, you look amazing!â he says while he stands up, obviously flustered. Itâs a look that Eren would like to see more often on his face. âI donât ⊠damn, I donât know what else to say.â
âItâs alright,â Eren says, grinning like a fool. âYou just made my day to be quite honest.â
âAnd you made mine,â Levi blurts without thinking. His cheeks color. Eren never wants this to end.
Levi stuffs his phone into his bag, then shoulders it. He holds out his arm to Eren like a gentleman. âShall we, brat?â
Eren loops his arm around Leviâs and grins. âLead the way.â
.0.0.0.0.0.0.
Wall Rose is a small restaurant built into the wall of a former military base called Trost Base. The base had been built some 200 years ago and is quite a tourist attraction, promising a lot of income to the small establishment. The owner is a guy named Keith Shadis, an ex-military commander that loves to shout orders at his kitchen crew. Under his rule, Wall Rose had been renovated to represent a US government facility as theyâd existed before the Independence War all across the country. If not for the tables and chairs that are strewn about the place, it would look more like a museum than a restaurant.
Levi and Eren choose a table in a quiet corner that isnât plagued by tourists like the rest of the place. A waiter comes by as they sit down to give them the menus, and soon they browse through them.
âOh, nice,â Levi says suddenly, delighted. âThey have Ceylon again.â
âCeylon?â Eren looks at the name printed on the page. âIsnât that a black tea brand?â
âYes,â Levi answers. âItâs from Sri Lanka. Shadis usually bought it from a company specialized in importing it since they were giving him a discount. But two years ago or so the tea plantations in Sri Lanka had a drought and most of the plants died -- so the value shot up and the prices skyrocketed. Shadis had to take it out of the menu.â He ends his rant suddenly. âOh god, sorry. I donât usually ramble like this.â
âI think itâs cute,â Eren says, fondness creeping into his voice. Levi had looked so alive while talking about something as mundane as his favorite tea brand that Eren couldâve watched him until the end of his days. It makes him smile. âYou really like tea, donât you?â
âYes,â Leviâs cheeks color. âIâve started drinking it as a kid.â
âYouâre so passionate,â Eren grins. Making Levi blush is as easy as it is charming. âI wouldnât mind trying it.â
âSure,â Levi clears his throat. âWhat do you want to eat?â
Accepting this change of topic, Eren looks at the menu once more. âI think Iâll take the chicken pasta.â
âNeat. Iâm gonna take the fish.â
They make small talk until the waiter comes back to take their order. He brings their tea not soon after alongside a basket of bread slices with garlic cream on the side.The first sip Levi takes makes him moan.
âGod, I love that taste.â
âI bet,â Eren says, trying to get his hormones under control. Itâs not really a common courtesy to spot a hard-on during the first date. The things Levi does to him with a mere noise, though, are just--
âArenât you going to try yours, brat?â
âEr--â Eren is at a loss for words. âSure.â
He tries the tea and finds it a tad too bitter for his liking, then adds sugar to Leviâs obvious snort. It is quite delicious afterward.
They enjoy their tea in sweet silence until the meal arrives. Leviâs fish is still steaming from the grill, whereas Erenâs pasta smells so delicious that he can literally feel his mouth water. He starts eating with gusto and almost moans himself as the flavors explode in his mouth. Soon enough, Levi is following his example.
âI love the food here,â Eren says after heâd swallowed his first bite. âIt reminds me of my momâs cooking.â
âWas she a good cook?â Levi asks.
âYeah, the best,â Erenâs spirit seems down for a moment, then he smiles wistfully. âShe thought me a few things. If you want, I could cook for you some time?â
âIâd love to have you cook for me,â Levi admits. âI canât cook for shit.â
âReally? Do you set a kitchen aflame just by walking into it?â
âItâs not that bad yet, brat.â Levi smiles into his tea, Eren can see it through the wrinkles around his eyes. It fairly suits him. âI can do scrambled eggs.â
âEveryone can do scrambled eggs.â
âYou make it sound as if I need a degree to work in a kitchen.â
âNot a degree -- more experience, and a helping tutor of course.â
âWell, what are we waiting for?â Levi shoves a forkful of white fish meat into his mouth. âI have a tutor sitting right here if heâs willing.â
âI always am,â Eren says in a sultry tone. It made Levi chuckle.
âNot bad, brat, not bad.â
They return to their meals after the banter, as they donât want the fish and the pasta to go cold. It tastes delicious, and Eren savors every last bite. When they finish their dishes and only their barely filled teacups remain, Eren tackles the question that heâd been thinking about for hours.
âSay, Levi,â he started. A glance at the black haired man tells him that he has his attention. âSay -- how would you like to go to a movie with me?â
âSure,â comes the answer, fast as a shot from a pistol. âWhen and where?â
âActually,â Erenâs hands become sweaty. He grips the fabric of his dress tightly. âI thought about -- maybe right now?â
âOh.â Levi looks at his watch. Itâs barely nine. The evening is still young and fresh. âOk.â
âReally?â
âYeah, really,â Levi chuckles while Eren sighs in relief. âYou donât want to go home yet, do you?â
Erenâs silence is answering enough. He feels Leviâs arm slide around his shoulder, then the smaller man is sitting right next to him.
âIâm sorry,â Levi says quietly. The honesty in his voice makes Eren tremble. âI understand where youâre coming from. Having your parents yell at you for reasons that you canât change without denying your true self seems to be going around.â
Eren laughs. âYou make it sound like a sickness.â
âPerhaps it is,â Levi tightens his grip. âYouâre wonderful and talented, and if your Dad canât realize that, then it is his loss.â He sounds so sure as if he had done this before. His parents mustâve been assholes, too. âNo one should be afraid to go home.â
âI -- Levi --â Eren doesnât know what to say. The mere thought that Levi might understand what he feels like is too much. How can it be that someone like Eren got to meet such a good guy who would get him and not mock him for the problems he has. Levi must be an angel, sent from Heaven to brighten Erenâs life. He canât explain it otherwise.
Before he can stop himself, he has shortened the distance between them and presses his lips against Leviâs unresponsive ones. Levi is surprised by the kiss -- his eyes widen and he goes rigid as a board, but when Eren tries to end it as quickly as it began, he grabs at his head and pulls him closer still before he opens Erenâs lips with his tongue.
Erenâs eyes slide shut. His hands roam about Leviâs body for a second, before they settle at the shorter manâs waist. Eren can feel the softness of Leviâs shirt below his fingers, as well as the hardening body beneath it. Their tongues start a desperate battle. All blood leaves Erenâs head to rush south.
They are interrupted by someone clearing their throat near them and jerk apart. While Eren turns cherry red, Levi levels a glare at the person interrupting them, who happens to be the waiter that attended to them all night. The man visibly shrinks in on himself and then ask in a timid voice if he can bring them anything else.
âNo,â Levi says a tad sharper than intended and crosses his arms over his chest. He is not at all pleased by this sudden interruption, but he doesnât want to have a fall out with one of his favorite restaurants, either. He, therefore, opts for polite neutrality. âWeâd like the bill, please.â
The waiter nods sharply before he basically runs off. Still blushing, Eren canât help but chuckle at his haste. He gently covers one of Leviâs hands with his own and watches the other visibly relax. âYou handled that well.â
âYeah,â Levi responds, then levels a warm gaze at Eren. It makes the brunette shiver despite the warmth in the restaurant. âI was tempted to chew him out, but I happen to like meals here.â
âThey are really delicious, arenât they?â Eren hums. He takes one of the tablecloths and folds it into a square, needs to occupy his hands or else heâs gonna jump Levi right then and there. He can still taste him on his lips.
Luckily for him, the waiter comes within another minute. Levi pays, doesnât even accept when Eren tries to intervene -- âWe could at least share it, Levi.â - âNo, this one's on me. You can pay for the movie if you want to lose money so badly.â - â... Fine.â -- and they leave the place naught five minutes afterward.
A gentle breeze greets them. Eren can feel it caress his bare legs as well as the long strands of his wig, relishes in the feeling of breathing in fresh air. He stretches a little and sees Levi watching him out of the corner of his eye. When Eren turns his head, Levi averts his eyes. A blush colors his beautiful pale face.
âEverything alright?â Eren asks teasingly, a grin on his face. At this rate, it will become a permanent fixture on his face, heâs sure of that.
âI just thought -- nevermind.â
âOh, come on,â Eren bugs. âTell me? What did you think?â
Levi turns even redder, then clears his throat. â... I thought about how much I wanted to kiss your neck right now.â
âOh.â Now it is Erenâs time to blush. âI wouldnât be opposed to it,â he blurts out before he can even think about it.
Levi laughs. âOf course you wouldn't.â He shakes his head for a moment, then looks at his phone. âWe should probably get going to the cinema, though. To catch your movie.â
The sudden change in topic throws Eren off-guard for a moment, but then a smile graces his face. There are a lot of things two people can do in a darkened movie theater, after all. âAlright,â he purrs, grabs for Leviâs hand and drags him along. âLetâs hurry then!â
.0.0.0.0.0.0.
They end up expulsed from the cinema for âsteamy behaviorâ halfway through the movie. Eren almost keels over while they leave since heâs laughing his ass off, and even Levi finds the situation weirdly amusing. Once outside, however, the brunette continues where they left off. He urges Levi against the wall next to the exit, takes the other oneâs hand and guides it back to where it had slipped under his dress before a security guard asked them to âleaveâ. He finds Leviâs lips once more and moans into his mouth when Levi squeezes his thigh.
âDonât stop,â he mumbles against Leviâs lips when they break apart for air, then surges back into the kiss. Leviâs hand is warm as it trails up and down Erenâs leg, and he canât help growing hard as fast as he does. His leg bends on its own accord and wraps itself around Leviâs waist, drags the other even closer than before.
âI donât intend to,â Levi groans. âYou taste so good, Eren.â
Warmth spreads through Erenâs being, and before he can help it his lips are on Leviâs again. One of his hands finds its way into Leviâs hair, nails scraping over the short strands of the otherâs undercut, while the second goes to Leviâs own on his thigh. He breaks the kiss and guides it to his crotch. âLook what you do to me,â he whispers.
The reaction is not as anticipated.
Levi tenses the moment he touches Erenâs groin. Grey eyes widen, then dart from Erenâs middle to his face and back. The brunette reads fear within that gaze and slowly uncurls the leg he had partially wrapped around the other.
âLevi?â he asks carefully. Gently. âIs everything alright?â
âI --,â Levi breaks off, suddenly pale, then licks his lips. âI -- you -- Eren you have a dick.â
âEr--â At first, Eren doesnât understand. Yes, he has a dick, heâs a guy after -- oh. Oh. Of course. His grip on Leviâs hand loosens with sudden realization. âOh, Levi. Iâm sorry.â
Levi shakes his head. He looks oddly vulnerable. âItâs okay,â he says. âI shouldâve known. Of course you have a dick. Youâre a guy.â And Iâm not, goes unsaid, but Eren hears it in the defeated tone of Leviâs voice. He wants to assure him that everything will be okay one day, that he will have a dick at one point in his life. But he doesnât find the words. Instead, he wraps his arm around the shorter male in a gentle embrace as his arousal bleeds into concern and something else. Something he doesnât want to acknowledge just yet.
âI wonât like you any less if you tell me that it is, in fact, not okay,â he says quietly. Levi breathes harshly. âI can only try to understand what you feel right now, and I will probably never get it completely, but just know that I care about you and your well-being. If you need time, just tell me.â Another harsh breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob has Eren press Leviâs body even closer. Slowly but surely, Levi hugs him back.
âIâm sorry,â the shorter man mumbles in a voice full of unshed tears. âI didnât know it would affect me like that but ⊠when I held your ⊠it is hard to explain--â
âShh, itâs alright. You donât owe me an explanation.â
âI know,â Levi says. He lifts his head and locks his gaze with Eren. âBut I want to give you one.â
âOkay,â Eren only manages, then waits patiently for Levi to find words. He rests his arms on Leviâs shoulders and interlaces his hands behind the shorter manâs neck. Leviâs right hand finds Erenâs forearm and squeezes it in silent thanks.
â... Iâm jealous,â Levi finally blurts out. âYou were born with a dick and youâve never had to struggle with what Iâm going through and ⊠shit, this is hard --,â Levi swallows harshly. He looks away before he continues, âfor a long time, my life was shit, you know? Before I realized that I had been born in the wrong body, I always wondered what was wrong with me. Nothing felt ⊠right. I rarely smiled because I always felt âŠweird. I canât really explain it, but -- I ⊠I thought about killing myself for the first time when I was eight. Everyone was expecting me to behave in a certain way, and if I didnât they were so disappointed in me. They called me names ⊠and they ⊠they â He breaks off, clears his throat. âIâm sorry. I feel so guilty for being jealous of you.â
âYou donât have to. Feel guilty, that is.â Eren places a gentle kiss on Leviâs forehead. It makes Levi look at him again. âAnd thank you.â
âFor what?â
âFor sharing that with me,â Eren answers. âI know it mustâve been hard to admit the truth. Not only to me, but to yourself as well.â
Levi looks at him oddly, then-- âHow can you be real?â
âExcuse me?â
âHow can you be actually, properly real?â Levi pinches his cheek. The color has returned to his face and he looks a lot more like himself. âI swear, half the time today I thought I was dreaming.â
â... I take that as a compliment,â Eren grins cheekily.
âYou better. I donât often compliment people, brat.â Thank fuck, Levi has returned to normal. On a sudden impulse, Eren places a wet kiss on Leviâs cheek which has the shorter man immediately recoil from him. âFuck, now I have drool all over my face!â
Eren just laughs.
âThat isnât funny,â Levi chides but doesnât wipe the wetness away yet. Instead, he takes Erenâs hands in his and looks at him with sudden profoundness. âThank you, Eren. For listening. I didnât know I needed that.â
âAnytime,â Eren responds honestly. âAnd just for the record, we can take it slow. You donât have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.â
âThe same goes to you,â Levi places a chaste kiss on Erenâs lips before he interlaces his right with Erenâs left. âSince we couldnât finish the movie, letâs walk around until you feel comfortable enough to go home.â
And there it is again, that warm feeling that spreads through him whenever he is in Leviâs presence. Eren takes a deep breath and smiles. Together, they walk into the night.
To be continued.
Part 1 | [Part 2] | Art for Part 1
#ereri#ereri fanfic#eren yeager#levi ackerman#translevi#dragqueeneren#slow burn#kind of#heavy petting#kissing#making out#mentions of suicidal thoughts#hinted gender dysphoria#levi has problems#eren has problems#they help each other#understanding#this is not betaread beware
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Once More, For Love
Sheith, 2.8k
Rating: G
Tags: modern AU, domestic AU, tons of fluff and some feels, suspense, car accident, hugs and cuddles
Merry Christmas @whoalookingcooljoker! Iâm your secret santa for the @voltron-ss exchange. I had a ton of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it!
Read it on Ao3 here.
The early morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, shining softly on Keithâs eyelids. He resisted for as long as he could, brow drawing down and face burying deeper into the pillow, but behind the facade of sleep he was slowly coming awake.
Behind him, the mattress shifted as Shiro rolled over and draped an arm across Keithâs waist.
ââs it morning already?â
Keith grumbled and reluctantly opened one eye. On the bedside table, the clock read 6:27.
âThree more minutes,â he said. Three minutes to relax into his husbandâs warmth behind him. Three minutes of rest before he had to pull himself together to face the day.
âSounds good,â Shiro answered, pulling Keith closer. He buried his face against Keithâs back, between his shoulderblades, and sighed. Keith slid a hand down and laced their fingers together where Shiroâs prosthetic rested gently on his hip, then closed his eyes and drifted.
Minutes later he was jolted fully awake by the shrill siren of the alarm.
More grumbling ensued as Shiro -- always the conscientious one -- sat up and removed his body heat from Keithâs back.
âWe should sleep in,â Keith groaned into his pillow. âCall in sick.â
âYou know we canât do that.â Shiro leaned over and planted a kiss on Keithâs bare shoulder. âCâmon, get up. Iâll make you breakfast.â
He felt Shiro stand up and heard his slow shuffle toward the bathroom.
âYouâd better be up by the time Iâm done showering!â
âYeah, yeah.â Keith closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the willpower to force himself out of the blanket cocoon. He shivered when his feet touched the floor and fumbled quickly for his slippers. It was his job in the mornings to make the bed and empty the dishwasher; in exchange, Shiro would make breakfast for both of them while Keith took his turn showering.
That was the way their life had been for the last year since theyâd both graduated and moved in together. Keith smiled as he went about his chores; as much as he complained, any minor discomfort was worth it. Life with Shiro was everything heâd ever dreamed of. Waking up with his husband close beside him, going about his day knowing that he could come home to Shiroâs embrace, simply existing in the same time and space together was enough to make his heart beat softer.
When Shiro got out of the shower, towel around his waist as he rummaged through the dresser for clean socks, Keith leaned in to kiss him before heading to the bathroom. There was a heart drawn on the mirror, smudged into the condensation, and Keith smiled at his own foggy reflection. He showered quickly; although the hot water felt like a blessing, he wanted to have more time afterward to simply be with Shiro before they both went their separate ways to work.
Breakfast was ready by the time he got out, the smell of coffee and toast wafting through the apartment. Keithâs mouth watered as he finished dressing and came into the kitchen. There was nothing like the scent of food to get him motivated in the mornings, and Shiro knew that and used it to his advantage.
âGood to see youâre fully conscious,â the older man greeted him, turning around from where he was frying eggs on the stove. âI was wondering if youâd fallen asleep in there.â
âYour confidence in me knows no bounds.â Keith moved closer, standing behind Shiro and winding his arms around his waist. Shiro relaxed into the touch but kept a watchful eye on the skillet.
âI trust awake you a lot more than sleepy you,â Shiro said, sparing one hand to rest over Keithâs own. The gold band on his finger shone softly where it rested against the matching one on Keithâs hand.
âWell right now youâre dealing with hungry me, so how does that affect your calculations?â
Shiro squeezed his hand before picking up the spatula to flip the almost-burning eggs. âIt makes me think someone ought to be getting a plate if he wants to eat before heading out.â
âHa.â Keith bumped his forehead against Shiroâs shoulder; the other man shoved back and Keith pulled away, laughing, and opened the cabinet.
Breakfast might have been simple, but it was each otherâs company that made it special. Keith scrolled through the news feed on his phone, seemingly ignoring his husband, but under the table his foot was rubbing against Shiroâs calf. Shiro buttered his toast, then casually reached over the table and picked up Keithâs own to spread jam on it.
âThanks, love,â Keith murmured, hardly looking up. It wasnât that he was taking Shiro for granted -- far from it -- but they were in such perfect sync that they knew almost exactly what each other was thinking. Right now they were in the mindset for work; later there would be time for savoring their relationship and luxuriating in each otherâs company.
Keith finished eating first and made a halfhearted attempt to steal the last bit of Shiroâs toast but the other man was too quick for him.
âSlowpoke,â Shiro teased, and Keith blew a raspberry.
Dumping his plate in the sink, Keith raced to the bathroom, closely pursued by Shiro, and they elbowed each other for a first turn at brushing teeth. Shiroâs fingers found the tender spot over Keithâs ribs and he collapsed in a fit of giggles, effectively yielding his place at the sink. Shiro had barely put his toothbrush in his mouth before Keith recovered enough to attack him with kisses up and down his neck, striking his ticklish spots and making him twist away. Despite his best efforts, Shiro was driven from the sink and Keith got his turn, sticking the toothbrush in his mouth and starting to scrub just as Shiroâs hand returned to his hip.
Keith expected another attack but instead Shiro pulled him closer so they were standing elbow-to-elbow by the sink, watching themselves in the mirror. They stayed that way as they finished brushing teeth, as Keith raked a comb through his hair, as Shiro straightened his dress shirt and buttoned his cuffs.
âWe need to be going,â Keith said at last. Glancing in the mirror one more time, he caught the way Shiro was looking at him. His eyes were dark and soft and Keith could almost feel the way they were tracing over him, feather-light and gentle. Keith stopped in the doorway, feet unwilling to carry himself any farther away.
Shiro came up to him, smelling of soap and aftershave, and Keith willingly leaned into his arms. They stayed that way for a moment, Keith resting his head on the bigger manâs chest, Shiro threading his fingers through Keithâs dark hair.
Then the alarm clock sounded again, a harsh reminder that jolted through them, and Shiro apologetically pulled away. âThatâs the last call,â he muttered, pressing a kiss to Keithâs forehead. âGotta go.â
Keith reeled him in with a hand on the back of his neck and they shared a lingering kiss before walking hand in hand to the front door. Shiro put on his shoes and reached for the car keys, tossing one set to Keith and putting the other in his pocket.
âHave a great day at work,â Keith said, bouncing on one foot as he crammed the other into his shoe. Shiro paused, one hand on the doorknob, and watched him fondly.
âYou too. Iâll see you tonight.â
âLove ya.â
âLove you, Keith.â
----
It wasnât often that Keith got home before Shiro, but he didnât mind the apartment being empty and quiet when he opened the door. In fact, that was all the better for his plans tonight. Not that he wanted Shiro to be stuck on a late shift or in traffic on the interstate, but it would give Keith a bit more time to prepare the surprise for him. He knew with almost certainty that Shiro had forgotten their anniversary today -- not the main one, not the wedding that they would never forget, but the date that they very first laid eyes on each other. Keith knew the date by heart because heâd gone home that day, four years ago, and circled the number big and bold on his calendar.
Four years together, and nearly a year married.
He smiled to himself and rubbed the wedding band on his finger. If there was ever a dream come true, this was surely it.
Rolling up his sleeves, Keith stepped into the kitchen and set to work. He didnât often get an opportunity to make dinner, too tired at the end of the day or too willing to do other chores while Shiro cooked, but it wasnât for lack of skill. He knew plenty of good recipes by heart -- and there was the chance heâd memorized some of Shiroâs favorites just for this occasion. Lasagna, green beans, dinner rolls. Nothing too fancy, but their relationship didnât call for fancy. It was a gesture from the heart, and he knew Shiro would appreciate it.
Keith turned on the TV as he worked, letting the ambient voices fill the living room and float into the kitchen. Maybe heâd been lying when he thought the silence didnât bother him. It was a little bit lonely in here without Shiroâs presence. Even when the other man was busy, typing away on his laptop or sorting through paperwork, he was usually in Keithâs line of sight like a silent guardian angel. Right now, without him, the apartment was just a little too lifeless.
The pasta was finished cooking and Keith was in the process of layering noodles, meat, and cheese in a casserole dish when the news came on TV. He ignored it, letting the droning voices fill the silence, until Route 41 was mentioned. Keith perked up, hearing the familiar name, knowing that it was Shiroâs usual way home. It would make sense if there was traffic this time of day; that would also explain why his husband was unusually late.
Except the news reporter wasnât talking about traffic, they were talking about a five-car pileup that had happened just minutes earlier.
Keith laid down one last layer of cheese before stepping into the living room, absently wiping his hands on the kitchen towel.
Abruptly the towel hit the floor, fallen from his numb fingers.
The TV was showing live feed of the wreckage, cars smashed into each other in an unrecognizable tangle of metal, and right in the middle was a familiar shade of red. Shiroâs car.
Keith stood there for a long time. Long enough for the next three stories to run, long enough for the kitchen timer to fade from his hearing. Long enough, finally, for his brain to kick back into gear. It was silly, there was no way Shiro was hurt. Hadnât he told Keith that heâd see him tonight? Shiro would never break a promise like that. Heâd be home. Heâd be home.
Moving slowly, Keith found the remote and turned off the TV then went back into the kitchen. The lasagna was still sitting on the counter, ready to go in the oven. The candlesticks were laid out on the table; cheesily romantic, but Keith had wanted to set the mood. There was a bottle of red wine hidden in the back of one of the cabinets, a surprise that heâd saved up for and had been keeping secret for this day.
Shiro would be home to enjoy it. He had to be. There were tons of red cars on the road; the one on the news could be anyoneâs.
Keith put the dinner in the oven, jerking back when he accidentally touched the rack. He stared at his burned finger for a minute as he tried to sort out the pain signals. Everything will be okay, his brain kept saying, at the same time overlaid with, nothing matters anymore.
The rest of dinner was put together in a daze. Keith went rifling through the fridge, looking for the green beans, only to turn around and realize that they were already simmering on the stove. The timer went off for the rolls and he stared at it, wondering what it was for. He picked up the towel where heâd dropped it in the doorway and slung it over one shoulder, forgetting to put it back on the hook.
At some point he went to the bedroom to retrieve his phone and he sat on the edge of the bed staring at it. He didnât want to dial the number but he had to. Slowly his fingers navigated to his contact list, to the first listing, where Shiroâs name was flanked by hearts. Keith pressed the number and put the phone to his ear, staring into the empty space in front of him.
It rang several times before going to voicemail.
Keith hung up and placed the phone back on his bedside table, next to the clock and their framed wedding photo.
So it wasnât just any car crushed in the middle of thousands of pounds of steel.
He lay down on the bed, curling up on his allotted half of the mattress. Everything about this was too sudden and surreal. If it had been more of a shock, maybe that would have broken the gates of his tears, but as it was, Keith couldnât even cry. He closed his eyes and listened to his own breathing, somehow so calm despite the fact that...
Closing his hands into fists, he pressed the wedding ring against his chest and stayed like that, letting it make an indent in his skin.
He was in love; he was happy. This couldnât be happening, not to him and not to a good person like Shiro.
The sound of the front door opening barely registered on his consciousness. But what finally pulled him from his listlessness was footsteps across the kitchen floor, followed by a confused call of his name.
âKeith? You here?â
He sat up on instinct. âShiro?â
âEverything okay? Dinnerâs burning in here.â
Suddenly there were tears burning Keithâs eyes, making him stumble on nothing as he lurched from the bedroom to the kitchen where Shiro was standing and looking around with a confused smile.
âThe candles are a sweet touch,â he started to say, but stopped as Keith collided with his chest. âOh, love. Whatâs wrong?â A strong arm was around Keithâs shoulders instantly, pulling him closer as he sobbed into Shiroâs shirt.
Shiro tried to walk them into the living room but Keithâs legs couldnât hold out that far, and with a whimper he went to his knees there on the kitchen floor. His husband followed him down, cradling Keith close to his chest and making quiet shushing sounds as he rubbed Keithâs back. Eventually Keith was able to get his panicked breathing under control, his heart inexplicably racing now that the danger was gone.
âKeith, can you look at me?â
He gulped in a breath and looked up, meeting worried gray eyes. âI thought something had happened to you.â
âWhy --? Iâm okay, Iâm right here.â Shiro cupped Keithâs face with his flesh hand. âI promise Iâm okay.â
Keith wrapped his hand tightly around Shiroâs, using him as a pillar of strength to ground himself. âItâs just... there was a wreck on the news, and it looked like your car, and you were late getting home --â
âI was late because I was getting you flowers,â Shiro said with a smile, nodding toward the table. In between the candles there was a bouquet of a dozen roses interspersed with small white flowers. âYou thought Iâd forget our not-anniversary?â
Keith choked out a laugh. âYou were buying flowers, and I thought youâd died!â He clenched a fist and pummeled it against Shiroâs chest. âHow could you let me think that?â
âIâm sorry. I had no idea.â Shiro took three of the blows but on the fourth he caught Keithâs wrist. âI promise there wonât be any more surprises from me.â
âSpeaking of,â Keith glanced at where the lasagna had three more minutes on the timer, âyouâve got time to make it up to me.â
Shiro stretched out his legs and rested his back against the cabinets, Keith still settled in his lap. âHow many kisses do you think itâll take?â he asked, already starting to pepper light kisses along Keithâs cheeks, following the tracks of his erstwhile tears.
âHow many are you willing to give me?â
âAs many as Iâve got in me.â
Keith rested their foreheads together, breathing returned to normal, and pecked lightly at Shiroâs lips. âWeâve got four years behind us. Hereâs to a lifetime more.â
Shiro tilted his head back and pressed their mouths together. They kissed for a long time, long enough for Keithâs legs to fall asleep where he was kneeling on the floor, long enough for the timer to go off while they ignored it, long enough to solidify the feeling in their hearts that they were there for each other and nothing could ever separate them.
And then they kissed one more time after that, for love.
#voltronss2k17#voltron#sheith#keith kogane#takashi shirogane#my writing#fanfic#i think i might be addicted to domestic aus now...
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