#...it was the meat and pasta that always had me stuck at the table until the food got cold bc im super picky | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

josiebelladonna · 2 years ago

Photo

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); i’m 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: wasn’t 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 don’t 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 😅), everything is fuller and rounder, and i can eat a lot more—i feel stronger, too. i was always curious about the world beyond 220 pounds—from 2015 when i hit 200, to 2021 when my stepdad passed, i bounced around that range and i was curious about the 230s. now i’m 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, there’s 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 there’s apple pie in the fridge. and there’s chocolate on the coffee table before me. when i said “fuck diet culture”, i meant it.)

actually i kinda am gigantic now. i’m 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 couldn’t eat much—and you gotta eat. you gotta nourish yourself. he passed and suddenly, i could eat to my heart’s content, all the healthy food and all the sweet stuff.

my body widened out, i now have a definite double under my chin, and i have a potbelly now, and it’s kinda sexy, tbh. i feel really healthy: everything is where it should be and i haven’t had a cold or anything since 2019, interestingly enough. i do have a little snoring problem, but that’s about it, though. i’m not in pain and i’m not “aching” for anything. i was thin before the world came crashing down, but i wasn’t 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 year’s… i want to “eat across” a city some day. i love to eat, and i love to eat a lot.

i wish i got chubby as a teenager, if i’m honest. my story would have been so much different (just imagine: a fat field hockey player rather than a gaunt anorexic one, i probably would’ve stuck it out much longer). and i wish i could tell 13-year-old me that it’s 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 i’m 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 crème 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, “i don’t want to torment myself anymore.” 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, doesn’t it? 😜). 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 wasn’t healthy thin, either. got sick a lot and nevermind b.m.i., it’s 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. it’s part of my truth. it’s just one part of who i am, and i’m finally just comfortable enough to talk about it.

so, as i write this, yes, i don’t feel negative about it (if anything… you want the truth? i don’t feel fat enough. it’s not like i’m lazy or sedentary, anyway: i’m gonna eat a big slice of apple pie with ice cream and whipped cream right now and then all my mom’s cookies, and everyone obsessed with dieting—and covering up—can 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. i’ll go through the fat-related tags on here sometimes and i’ll look at fat women, and they’re 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 🤷🏻‍♀️) but i think it’s interesting that there aren’t a lot of “sportier” 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 😈🥵😘

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years ago

Text

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 day’s special before turning to him, her tumble of hair looped in a ponytail through her deli-logo ball cap.

“Arlo, huh?” she asked, but her tone was nervous.

“He isn’t involved, Rosie. He did what any teenage boy would do - took fifty dollars to drop the gift to you.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

“So,” he began as the deli bustled around them, “Tonight. I, ah…. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Colour infused her cheeks. “Actually I don’t want to be alone. I could ask Christie if-”

“Stay with me? I’ll have Faye tonight, but she’s actually really stoked to meet you.”

Rosie’s eyes widened for a second. “She is?”

“She is. Although she reiterated that she doesn’t share food.”

Her lips curved, and the urge to kiss her ran through his veins like wildfire. “Smart girl.”

“We’ll pick you up at seven, then?”

“Perfect.” 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. “See you later, Walt.”

It was the first time she’d shortened his name, and he liked it.

He hadn’t 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. “Uh huh?”

“Uh, Sir.” Arlo’s face flushed red, his backpack hung on one shoulder. “You don’t have to tell Rosie, do you? About the….. Er….”

“Poetry?” Marshall prompted, hiding his amusement.

“Yeah,” Arlo mumbled, staring at the ground.

Marshall put him out of his misery. “I’m pretty sure it’s against the bro code. I won’t say anything.”

Arlo’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he nodded. “Thanks, uh, Sir.” 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: Well….. I’ve met someone.

DAHLIA: Holy shit!

DAHLIA: What’s 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. He’s very tall. Brown hair. And yes, I have.

DAHLIA: Oh my gawd.

DAHLIA: By the way, you haven’t seen Dylan around have you? It’s a big city so I guess probably not. But his old schoolteacher’s mom said he’d left for NYC.

DAHLIA: You ok?

DAHLIA: Meanwhile, back at the ranch….

DAHLIA: OK, you didn’t even laugh. I can tell even from here. Maybe I should come visit?

*****

Rosie fidgeted by the door of her apartment. She’d packed an overnight bag, changed Salami’s 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 - hadn’t 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. “Calm down.” Five in, five out.

She pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Marshall’s voice came clear through the speaker. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Be right down.” Rosie bent to drop a kiss to Salami’s 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 Winter’s teeth hadn’t 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 Marshall’s wallet picture, her hair hidden by the purple hood of her winter jacket, an expression of wariness and hope on her adolescent face.

“Hi,” Rosie ventured. “You must be Faye.”

“And you’re Rosie,” Faye replied, her tone neutral. “Dad says you’re staying with us tonight.”

Rosie glanced up at Marshall. “If that’s okay.”

Faye smiled shyly. “Well, we get to have double garlic bread because you’re coming for dinner.”

“I love garlic bread,” Rosie admitted.

“Me too!” Faye squealed, but then dropped her expression into the teenage ambivalence Rosie knew very well from when she’d been that age. “I mean, everyone loves garlic bread.”

“Come on, you two,” Marshall interrupted, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “I’d better get cooking.”

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. He’d been right though - no soul. The kitchen looked like it wasn’t 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.

“Dad’s place needs work,” Faye said shortly. She opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. “You want some?”

“Sure.” 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.

“What can I do?” Rosie asked as Faye shrugged her coat off and tossed it on the sofa.

“Dad and I usually cook together,” Faye replied from across the room, but then added, “how about you chop the herbs?”

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 Rosie’s 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. “A girl after my own heart.”

“So is it serious with you and my Dad?” Faye asked after chewing a mouthful of garlicky baguette.

“Faye,” Marshall growled.

“No, it’s okay,” Rosie allowed. “I care about your Dad very much, Faye. And to answer your question, I believe it is serious.”

Faye looked to her father for confirmation of this.

Marshall nodded. “I’m serious about Rosie. She makes me happy.”

For a second Faye looked from her father to Rosie and back again, as if deciding something. Then she smiled shyly.

“You’re happy?” she asked Marshall.

He hesitated. “Yes…?”

“So can I stay up late tonight? And can I pick the movie?”

Marshall looked at Rosie over Faye’s head, and his expression said I think we’re 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 @wanderinglunarnights @brokenthelovely @ravenpuff02 @screamingrennergasm @mary-ann84 @agniavateira @ayamenimthiriel @stxphmxlls @alyxkbrl @penwieldingdreamer @radaofrivia @thethirstyarchive @raspberrydreamclouds

#walter marshall fic #tinderbox #nomis fic #henry cavill fic #imagine henry cavill

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atxlxs · 3 years ago

Text

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 Muska’s contact. Conveniently titled ‘parasite’. 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 “I wouldn’t 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.” was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.

Maybe, Eras wouldn’t have to worry constantly about her friend.

“I am very much a real person, Nedzu.” 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.

“Hey Eras, what's up?” Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.

“The 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 wasn’t here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.” Eras responded, ignoring the soft “actually need to eat?” from the background of the call.

She wasn’t lying. After school had ‘released’ 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.

“Awe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?” 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.

“You wish, gremlin child.”

“Old woman.”

“Bitch witch”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Spaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if you’ll have the appetite for it. It’ll be there though.” Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. “Will you need a ride home?”

“Nah, 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.” 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.

“As 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 ‘old woman’ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.” 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.

“Nedzu, I don’t believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.” the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.

“Thanks Aizawa-sensei.” 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.

“Yes 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,” she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, “I seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasn’t even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.”

With a response of “You got it bestie.” the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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. He’s 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 ‘beyond the veil’ 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 wouldn’t 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 wouldn’t 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 Viridis’s 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 didn’t want to be branded thank you very much.

Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No ‘Zashi, 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 wouldn’t 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.

“Nedzu, she’s probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we don’t find a way to occupy her, we’ll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.”

All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy pro’s 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 wasn’t sure.

Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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 ‘woken’ 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 isn’t 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 Eras’s 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.

“Holy shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?” 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.

“Thanks, 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 I’ll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.” 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 Muska’s 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 doesn’t want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.

“Want a ride there?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

A total of 3 minutes passed as Muska’s 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 Muska’s playlist that Eras didn’t 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 “KICK ASS WITCH BITCH!” 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.

“I AM-” A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, “COMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

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 she’s 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 greenie….

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 wasn’t going to just maul them. That’d 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 didn’t know about Eras’s 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.

[You’re 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 I’ve 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 ‘put on suit to connect’ 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 ‘connect to suit’ 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?!?

Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #mha #mha co #bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #au

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the-entertaining-spacemans-club · 4 years ago

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Insulting Romance

A/N: Let’s kick this blog revival off with a holiday appropriate shitfic eh? It’s an old one from the depths of my google doc hell, and it’s 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, there’s mild threats of bodily harm and sexual jokes but nothing actually happens.

“Hey, you ready to go yet? Sam is freaking out being alone with Maebh.” His voice echoed up the stairs with mild annoyance etching his words.

“I 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?” Her questions barely preceded her down the stairs as she asked them in rapid succession.

“It is, it’s a dumb ‘earth holiday’ but Sam likes her and I'm just in it for the free lunch and to keep him from being… Well, Sammy.” Shrugging he leaned against the lobby wall and occupied himself with his obsolete car keys oblivious to being watched from the stairwell.

“Doesn't explain why I'm going… I don't want to be stuck in some pink plastered café surrounded by grotesque displays of adoration and happy couples.” She made a fake puking sound as she came into view to emphasize her point.

“You jealous? That's cute coming from little miss ‘let me introduce your face to my fist’. C’mon, we’ll cash in on a free lunch, make fun of all the happy couples, and then go drown our loneliness at the bar. It’ll be fun.” 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.

“I'm not jealous!” Closing the distance between them she grabbed her boot and stepped back to sit on the steps to put it back on. “I 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.” She couldn’t 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.

“Uh huh… Either way, let’s go, I'm starving.” With that he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment complex into the sunny streets of the island's main town.

“Still never answered me. Don't you have any other friends you could drag along to this torture?” Catching up to him she nudged him playfully.

“None that are single, and I'm sure Jett would just love if I invited Teal along.” Rolling his eyes and dragging out Jett’s name unfavorably he continued, “Which leaves Maebh, who’s 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?”

“I'm a stormtrooper not a droid, I am perfectly capable of having fun.” With an almost growl like reply she nearly shoved him into a wall as they walked.

“Right, prove it then short stack.” 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 Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight.

“Damn, Wade outdid himself this time…” Ignoring the jab at her height, or lack there of standing next to the 6’ giant beside her, she scanned the crowded diner until she spotted the date they were crashing. “Look, there’s Sam and Maebh, so glad they took the corner booth, no one has to see me here with you on this puke worthy holiday.”

“See you with me? I’m the embarrassing one? Didn’t you wreck your chances with a certain clone by being the embarrassing one?” 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.

“I did not! He was a pushover and that saber wielding witch used her damn dirty jedi mind tricks on him I know it.” 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. “You really know how to treat a lady don’t you?”

“A lady? Where?” He slid into the booth seat and immediately doubled over to rub his shin under the table. “Dude, ow.” 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.

“That's not a very clever pick up line, no wonder you're single.” The blonde managed between her stifled laughs.

“I'm single. You're single. Coincidence? I think not.” he leaned over closer to her smiling broadly with a wink.

“Ok, if you are going to start that right now, you two are going to have to find your own table.” Sam coughed drawing their attention back to the collective group.

“Hey, 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?” His usual cocky grin secured in place as he asked.

“No… Why?” Sam, as well as Maebh and SD, stared at him with mixed looks of confusion and worry.

“I just figured someone that’s hot as hell, had to have danced with the devil a time or two.” 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.

“Oi, Fives, unless you want to eat blaster bolts and leave your date with the check, act like this entire table doesn’t exist. Got it?” SD glared between Sam and Maebh at the clone trooper sitting behind them.

“Don'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 it’s kinda sweet you found someone to share this earth holiday with.” Fives smiled while draping his arm over his own dates shoulder smirking back at her.

“My date?!” the rest of his words fell on deaf ears as her eye twitched in aggravation. “Move your ass Dean, I'm going to make him eat those words.”

“Ouch, shot down by the droid captain herself. Knew you didn't have a heart SD.” With a wink he turned back to his table and continued to focus on his date.

“I 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!” 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.

“Hey, if you were a droid, at least you'd be a HOT-obot. Can I just call you Optimus Fine?” 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.

“Wow Dean, and I thought we would be the ‘gross cute couple’ present. That was just, wow man.” Sam shook his head as Deadpool sauntered over with a tray of drinks in hand to take their order.

“So what can I get the barbershop quartet of murder and mayhem today?” 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.

“We all know you don't do menus, so what's the special today?” Maebh asked after composing herself.

“I'm glad you asked! Today we've got every assortment of pasta you could imagine, I highly recommend the spaghetti to share,” even with his hood on, his eyebrows raising suggestively did not go unnoticed, “as 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!”

“I don't know what ‘the usual dishes’ are… I'm assuming Earth food?” SD asked with one brow quirked displaying her obvious confusion at everything being said.

“Do you have Alfredo in that ‘every assortment’ of pastas? Been awhile since I had a good Alfredo. You'd probably like it SD, it’s just noodles and sauce.” Maebh gave her order and offered her suggestion to SD.

“Actually that sounds pretty good, make that two please.” 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.

“I don't even know what pasta is in the first place…”

“You wouldn't like Alfredo, it’s basically vegetarian. You’ll want something with red sauce, more meat.” 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.

“So the spaghetti to share for the killer couple, got it!” Deadpool didn't give them time to reject his choice for them before he skirted away from their table shouting towards the kitchen “I NEED TWO GREENS PEACE PLATES AND ONE LADY AND THE TRAMP!”

“Oh hell, he better bring that out on separate plates I swear.” Dean sighed as he took a drink of his beer, grateful the mercenary always magically knew what everyone wanted to drink at least.

“Don't count on it.” Sam chuckled from his side of the table.

“While we're waiting, I got another question for you.” The second the words were out of Dean's mouth Maebh hung her head knowing no good was going to come from his statement.

“Uh, what?” Already not looking forward to whatever stupid thing he was about to say.

“Is that a mirror in your pocket?” With one brow raised and his shit eating grin back in place he waited for her answer.

“No?” Looking down at her pants oblivious to the punch line she wondered why he would have asked that.

“Because I can practically see myself in them.” His other brow raised as he mimicked Deadpool earlier suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

“You'd have better luck seducing her blaster man!” Fives chimed in between laughs.

“Both of you can shut your mouths right now!” She hissed as it dawned on her what he said. “I 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.”

“Oh come on, lighten up!” Playfully nudging her shoulder trying to get her out of the sour mood she was in he added, “I just like to stay on top of things. Want to be one of them?”

“You're going to get stabbed-” Sam started up before Maebh interjected.

“Or shot.”

“Yes, 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.” Sam explained trying to justify his brother's behavior and lower the tension.

“How sad, makes sense though.” She didn't elaborate and even looked out the window when she caught the confused look on Dean's face.

“How the hell?” He asked looking from SD to Sam and Maebh completely bewildered.

“Because on a scale from one to ten, you're a one, and I'm the nine you need.” 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.

“Oh! The stormtrooper thinks she's got jokes! That's pretty cute coming from someone who must've sat in a pile of sugar.” He almost started laughing when she scooted over in the seat to see if he was being serious or not. “Because you've got a pretty sweet ass.”

“Tell me something I didn't know Darth Obvious.” With an amused snort she picked up her soda before noticing Deadpool coming back towards them with a tray of food. “Oh good, at least if your mouth is full you can't make anymore dumb jokes.”

“I got something that could fill your mouth.” He muttered quietly as he watched her start choking on her drink.

“What the kark!” 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.

“Alfredo 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.” 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.

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.

“Hey, calm down, you'll want to save your energy for tonight after all.” Dean grinned as Sam and Maebh groaned.

“Can you at least keep it clean so I can keep my food down?” 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.

“I make no promises, it's hard to keep it clean when you've got a health hazard sitting next to you.”

“Hey Dean?” The almost innocent nature of her question was concerning all on its own.

“Yeah?” 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.

“You dropped something.” Looking past him at the floor beside their booth she kept up the casual tone and calm façade.

“What?” Following her gaze he didn't see anything and became confused. “No I didn't?”

“Yeah, you did…” taking advantage of him leaning towards the floor, she shoved him out of the seat before adding “your standards.” 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. “At least your taste in food isn't terrible.”

“You just called yourself low standard, you know that right?” He asked as he got back into his seat.

“I never said mine were great either.” She muttered as they continued to eat their meals with minimal conversation.

When their plates were mostly empty, and after a short battle for the last meatball, Deadpool came back around with drink refills. “And what can I get you all to satisfy your sweet tooth? Brownies? Ice cream? Both? Cake? Pie? -”

Almost simultaneously SD and Dean's faces lit up at the mention of pie as they perked up and asked “Pie?” 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.

“You actually know what pie is?!”

“Pie is an Earth food?!”

“If I hadn't already met God, I'd think he was real now. A woman after my own heart.” 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.

“What the kark Deadpool! What are these things?” SD hissed as she picked one up and saw that it had words on it. “Cutie Pie? Is this some kind of joke?”

“The only joke here is that you might have actually found someone SD.” Fives piped up after being silent for too long. “Ouch! Those things hurt!” He ducked down before she could throw another one at the back of his head.

“So I think it's obvious they want pie, but can we get a Sunday please?” Maebh interjected before SD and Fives started up again.

“Of course! All the toppings?” He asked, looking at Sam and Maebh ignoring SD and Dean shaking candy hearts out of their shirts.

“Yeah? Sam?” She asked not sure if he had any allergies she should be considerate of.

“Anything you want, I'm not a big dessert person anyways.” Seeing the slightly dejected look at his words he quickly added “I'll still have a few bites though.”

“HEY SLADE I NEED A BANANA BOAT AND A COUPLE SLICES OF YOUR GRANDMA'S BLUE RIBBON!” He shouted as he started down the row of booths to take other dessert orders and shower more unknowing patrons with hard sugary treats.

“Seriously though, what are these things?” 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 mates’ before flicking it away from her.

“They're candy with silly messages printed on them,” Maebh answered as she picked a few up to read as well. “Though there's some X-rated ones mixed in… not surprising coming from Deadpool though.”

“Hey, SD…” Dean held out a heart that clearly Deadpool had somehow managed to make and mix into the regular cutesy ones that read ‘nice ass’.

With a grin she picked through the ones on the table and held one up in reply 'eat me’. Of course she had meant it in a 'go fuck yourself’ kind if way not knowing it was intentionally one of the dirty ones mixed in.

“If you insist, we'll need that pie to go though.” Leaning closer to her he held out another ‘lets bang!’.

“I may not have a heart, but know a few other ways to get blood pumping.” 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 “Sorry to have to bail on you guys early, but I can think of better places to enjoy a slice of pie among other things.”

“Wait, seriously?” 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.

“What just happened?” Maebh asked Sam, equally confused.

“Dean just met his match is what just happened.” He chuckled as he leaned back into the booth seat to relax.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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Acting Weird: Peter and Sebastian

“He’s acting weird,” 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 didn’t 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 he’d 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 Henry’s piano practice coming through the open window.

He’d 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.

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.

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 you…"

"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. She’d discipline him and he’d 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.

"I wonder if anyone would ever look at me that way…" 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, but…" 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.

"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.”

"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.

"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, “He won't. “

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 doesn’t.

If only Peter could figure out why, what he’d done wrong. Then he could apologize, and, and maybe make it better.

Sebastian was right.

All he could do was wait, and hope he either figured it out, or it just... went away.

But he missed just hanging out on Henry’s 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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stormtrprinstilettos · 5 years ago

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“It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.” - Roger x fem reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 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 “episode”: Roger finally gets Reader to go on a date – 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, I’m 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 weren’t expecting to hear from him anytime soon. You’re 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 – “I’m not giving you up any time soon,” you keep thinking. This is ridiculous. He’s leaving, he’ll be in Munich, then touring… Stop it, Y/N. But you can’t stop. He’s right. You overanalyze everything. This is just fun and he’ll 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 you’d go to look for one, but it got your mind off of him. You’re concentrating hard on the task you’ve given yourself when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the mood for Italian food. What’s the best place in this god awful city for Italian food?” It’s Roger, and you can’t help the massive smile that’s formed on your face.

“Dan Tana’s,” you tell him. “But they don’t open until dinner time.” You hear cars rushing by and horns blowing in the background. “Where are you? It’s so loud.”

He starts to chuckle. “I’m on some payphone outside. Dan Tana’s, you said?”

“Yeah, but they don’t open until dinner time and…”

He cuts you off. “Can you be ready for 5?”

“You’re talking to me?” you ask.

He’s laughing at your awkwardness. “Yes, you. I’ll pick you up at 5:00.” He doesn’t 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 you’re not going when he shows up, but you know you won’t do that. It’s only noon, but you rush to your closet to find what you’re 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 – 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 – no blazer this time – 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.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, with a toothy smile and a kiss on your cheek. He holds his arm out for you to hook yours into. “Ready to go?” You smile and grab your purse and head out the door. “Thought I’d take you this Italian place I heard about,” 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 it’s hard to do. Roger, on the other hand, isn’t paying them any attention, instead focusing his attention on you and making sure you’re 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. “Ignore them,” he whispers, leaning over the table and taking your hand in his. “It’s just the two of us, no one else,” he says as he’s giving you a comforting grin. He glances down at the menu. “What’s good here?”

“I always get the veal parmesan,” you tell him with a chuckle. “Not that I come here a lot. That’s what I always get at Italian restaurants.”

He starts to laugh. “Not the adventurous type?”

“It’s my favorite,” you shrug. He’s still holding your hand as he looks over the menu, and you sit like that, in silence, watching him, and you can’t 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 doesn’t know what he’s reading and pull the menu away from him. “Pasta, seafood, meat or veggies?” you ask with a giggle.

“Meat,” he playfully growls. “Like a real man.” You roll your eyes and point to the menu section with the meat selections as you push it back to him and he smirks. “I have no idea what any of this is.” He points down. “What’s this?”

“Liver,” you tell him, laughing at his disgusted reaction. When he points to the next one, you giggle. “That’s veal parmesean.” He nods and closes the menu and gives you an impressed look. “I 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.”

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 didn’t matter to him – 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. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” he says, softly, looking deep into your eyes. “Because if I didn’t, I just want you to know that you are absolutely beautiful.” You smile and he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “And not just tonight. Always.”

You’re smiling as you melt inside, a different feeling than you usually get when you see him. It’s not that sexual desire that almost burns. It’s a flutter, a calmness, a… What is he doing to me? you ask yourself. Everyone else disappeared. It’s just the two of you, no one else, just like he said earlier. You lean over the table to get closer to him. “Come here,” 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.

“Let’s get out of here,” 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. It’s just the two of you, no one else, and you’re floating.

He’s driving around, not sure where he wants to go next, but he does know he doesn’t want to take you home – not yet. The conversation is flowing so smoothly, and you’re both enjoying the evening and the company so much you don’t want it to end. “Turn here,” 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. “Come on,” you smile and grab his hand, pulling him along as you walk out to a view of the city below. “Just in time,” you murmur as he starts to take in the view. “Haven’t been up here in a while. My favorite place to watch the sunset.” He draws you in from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He’s 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. You’re not overthinking things for a change. You’re not questioning his motives or even worrying about what the future will bring. You’re 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 – that’s what it was all about. Now, the only time you can control, and this is exactly where you want to be.

“Y/N?” he says as he turns you to face him. The sun has just about disappeared from the sky, but there’s still a slight glow that’s 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. “I… uhh…Thanks… for sharing this with me…” His words are stumbling a little, and for the first time since you’ve 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 he’s 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 he’s 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 don’t 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. “Why are you so tense?” you ask him. “Your whole body is tight.” You look up at him, your chin on his chest and and you start to rub his back.

He kisses your forehead and smiles. “Maybe being around you is stressful,” he chuckles, and you push yourself away, pretending to be upset and offended.

“I don’t know why I still like you, knowing you’re an asshole,” you laugh as he pulls you back close, leaning down so his nose touches yours.

“Oh, you like me?” he grunts sarcastically. “I happen to L…” He quickly stops himself and smiles. “I happen to like you, too.” 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. “Stop being cute,” he laughs. “I’m trying to relax and enjoy the view.”

You look up at him again, giving him an adoring look and smirk. “My view is quite nice to look at.” 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. “Ugh,” you groan. “It was nice while it lasted.” You slowly pull apart from each other and watch as these jackasses who interrupted your moment start to walk into view.

“Brownies,” he blurts out, out of nowhere. “You brought those brownie things to the studio the other day. Those were good.” You look at him, humored with confusion “I want some.”

“I don’t know where to buy brownies at 8:00 on a Sunday night,” you laugh. “I made those anyway.”

He grabs your hand and starts walking to the car. “Then let’s go so you can make me some.” He’s serious and you’re still laughing.

“I can’t just make them, Roger,” you laugh. “I need the mix and…”

“Well let’s go find the mix,” he says, hurrying and opening the car door and shoving you in. “What?” he asks, starting to laugh at himself when he gets in the car and puts the keys in the ignition.

“The stores are closed,” you tell him.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “Well… Where to next?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle. “You’re the one who invited me out tonight.” He nods and starts the car. “So where are we going now?” He shrugs and pulls out, not knowing which way to turn on the road and looks at you for guidance. “I don’t know where we’re going so I can’t tell you where to go.”

“My place?” 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. You’ve been smiling since the second you opened the door when he picked you up, and you don’t feel like you’ll ever stop smiling again. “Tell me, what does a girl from [your hometown] want out of life? I mean, really want out of life?”

You sigh and lean your head back on the seat and gaze out of the window. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy,” you say quietly. “Not that I’m not a happy person or that I’m not happy where I am.” You turn your head and look at him. “I just want to be able to take my final breath, whenever it may be, and know that I’ve lived a happy life.”

“Wow,” he says, impressed by the maturity of your answer. “Usually people will say they want the big house, fancy cars, loads of money…”

“None of that matters to me,” you say, cutting him off. “So many of these people in these obnoxious houses have all of that, but they’re miserable.” You turn your body in the seat so you’re facing him, his hand still holding yours. “It’s not always about material things, you know? I mean, yeah, they’re nice, but it’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

He starts to laugh, loud and heartedly. “I think you’re the only person out here who feels that way.” He stops laughing and starts to grin. “You’re too good for these people.” 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. “Do you want to change?” he asks. “Get more comfortable?” 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. “Change,” he says as he heads out the room. “I’ll be right back!” He rushes out, not saying a word about where he’s running off too.

After changing your clothes you sneak back into the living room, thinking you’re going to catch him doing whatever he rushed off to do, but you don’t see him. You don’t 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. “Dammit, Roger!” you yell and he’s in complete hysterics. It only takes a second for you join him in the laughter. “Stop doing that!”

“Never,” 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. “Got it from my neighbor,” he chuckles. “Nice old lady.”

“Really?” you ask with a laugh. “You want me to make brownies?” 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. “Well? Get me a pan. You have one of those?”

He gives you a big smile and reaches into a bag. “She gave me one,” he laughs. “Everything’s in here but the eggs.” 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. “Told you. Everything’s in the bag.”

He leans on the counter watching you mix the batter and pour it into the pan. “Do you know how to use the oven?” you joke, but he gives you a blank look. “You’re useless,” you giggle as you set the temperature yourself. “You’re quite sneaky, too,” you tell him with your back turned. “Bringing me to dinner just so you can get me back here to make you brownies. I could have done this…” You turn around to finish your statement, but you can’t, 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. “You’re such a child,” 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. You’re 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 that’s the only reason your eyes opened. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” you groaned. “I have to clean the mess in the kitchen.” When you stand up, he stands with you and turns your body in the direction of the bedroom. “That’s not where the kitchen is,” you giggle.

“Go to bed,” he tells you, standing behind you and bending down to give you a kiss on your neck. “I’ll take care of it.” You turned yourself around, ignoring what he said. “I know how to wash, Y/N,” he chuckles. “Go to bed. I’ll be there when I’m done.”

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, you’d 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 hadn’t thought about it for a second the entire night, but now, being left alone with your thoughts, that’s 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 wasn’t 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 weren’t so sure anymore. Not now that the two of you spent the entire night together without it, and especially not now that you’re both laying in this bed and neither one of you are trying to rile the other up. But still, there’s a nagging feeling in your gut kept telling you that you had to let him go, and if you didn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t want to answer it, but you did, clearing your throat, hoping that would mask the raspiness you knew your voice would hold. “Hey, beautiful,” you hear Roger say when you answer. You can hear his smile on the other end.

“Hey, you,” you say, almost in a whisper, cringing because your voice sounds terrible. “How’s it going over there?”

“Fine,” he replies but quickly changes the subject before it can be discussed further. “Are you feeling alright? You sound hoarse.”

You feel tears starting to well up again when you hear his voice, but you fight them off. “No, I’m feeling a bit icky,” you lie, although not completely. “It just came over me all of a sudden.” You hate lying to him, but you can’t exactly sit here and tell him the truth.

“Do you need anything? I can come…”

“No!” you stop him. “No,” you lower your tone. “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.” You’re trying so hard to fight back those tears but they’re not holding back and start to slide down your cheeks. “You don’t need to come. I don’t know if it’s contagious.”

He knows nothing is physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong with you this morning. But he’s not going to argue. He’s going to give you the space you apparently need, and he’s not going to ask any questions, even though he has no idea why you’re blowing him off. “Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until 7 or so, so call if you need anything. The new girl is here so she’ll be around to answer the phone.” After assuring him that you would, you can hear him sigh. “Last night was one of my best, Y/N. I want you to know that.”

You close your eyes, wishing he would stop being so fucking perfect, because all it’s doing is killing you slowly. “Mine too, Roger,” you whisper. “Go on, they’ll get tired of waiting for you,” you giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, and you can hear his smile again. “I L… I’ll see you,” he says and hangs up the phone.

For the first time since the guys have been recording you’re dreading going into work, only because you don’t know how you’re going to react when you see him. What you do know is that if you don’t stop overthinking and worrying about this then you’re 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. You’ve 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. You’re listening to her dribble on about her boyfriend and how much she misses him since he’s out in New York at college when Roger walks in, much earlier than expected.

“Hello, Anna,” he greets her, smirking and being the flirt that he can’t help but being. “Looking lovely today.”

She starts to giggle giddily. “Hey, Roger,” 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. “And you, Y/N, even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

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 didn’t know anymore. That damn smile… “Not looking so bad yourself, Mr. Taylor,” you tell him, still smirking and unable to break free from his eyes.

“Can you come help me with something?” 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. “Let me in, Y/N,” he says softly. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

This is not the conversation you want to have right now. You weren’t ready, but you knew it had to be done. “You make me feel things I’m not supposed to be feeling and it’s infuriating.” You look down at him as he’s sitting there, looking at you, and he has that damn smile on his face. “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He’s tickled by your frustration, but you don’t find it funny. You can’t deny it anymore because that night, in the studio – that was fucking perfect. Sunday night – that was fucking perfect. Every minute spent with him, even if it’s just talking about some minor thing – fucking perfect. But you didn’t want to feel. You didn’t want him to feel. You just wanted to have your fun and move on when he did because you didn’t want to get heartbroken. You were the heartbreaker, not the recipient of it. “I don’t want to feel anything, Roger.”

“But you do,” he says. “I didn’t want to feel anything either.”

“Well, stop feeling it,” you staunchly tell him. “You’re only going to be here another month or so and…” You look at him and sigh. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“Well things have changed,” he said with a bit of force, startling you a little. Your want to walk away, but you can’t. He’s holding on to your arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m going to Montreux for a few weeks when I leave here to work on some solo stuff before going to Munich. Come with me.”

“W-what?” Shocked. That’s 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. “I need you to come with me.” His face was serious. This wasn’t some game anymore. This wasn’t what any of this was supposed to be. “I fucking need you…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to leave you here.” You can’t even speak. This has caught you so off guard you can’t even think straight. “I never wanted this to happen either, Y/N, but it did. And now, well, now I can’t stop it. And neither can you.” He leans over and gives you a soft kiss on your completely flabbergasted lips and smiles. “I don’t need an answer now, or even tomorrow. Will you just think about it?” You shake your head. “That’s all I ask.” He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling that damn smile you can never say no to. “You said all you want out of life is to be happy. I know I can make you happy if you let me.”

You know he can. He already does make you happy. And you don’t know why you aren’t yelling at him that yes, you will go with him, that you’ll go anywhere with him. You can’t say anything. You’re not even sure if you’re breathing right now. All you do know is that you’re engulfed in his stare, in his smile, and in the feeling he’s giving you with his hand on your face. He’s rendered you completely speechless again, but suddenly you start laughing, confusing the hell out of him. “This is stupid,” you giggle, confusing him even more. “I shouldn’t have to think about this.”

He starts to giggle too, albeit nervously. “No, you should. It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.”

“Roger, I…” You can finish what you want to tell him because everyone walks in, ready to get to work, but you can’t take your eyes off of each other. He knows exactly what you were about to say, because he replied without even hearing it.

“Me too,” 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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romance2d-otomegame · 4 years ago

Text

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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asianadjacent · 5 years ago

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If you don’t 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, you’ll absolutely adore this dish. I’m 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 that’s paired perfectly with al dente pasta, garnished with fresh herbs and as much grated parmesan as you like.

The dish I’m 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.

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 (she’s always had the better judgement when it came to menu items) and proceeded to eat most of it.

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 I’m 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 “Pasta alla Genovese”, it’s 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.

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.

Sidenote: Mark (yes, we’re on a first name basis) has written a bunch of great cookbooks like the incredible “How to Cook Everything: 2,000 Simple Recipes for Great Food” which is one of the better books if you’re 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.

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 “oomph” 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 you’re 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 didn’t 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 aren’t 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 I’m 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 won’t 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 it’s 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 it’s browning or caramelised (DON’T 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 you’re worried that the bottom will burn because you’ve never seen so much onion go into a single pot before unless you’re cooking a giant batch of French Onion soup.

When it looks safe and it doesn’t 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 you’re 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 you’re 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 can’t taste the alcohol in the sauce anymore, it’s good to go. Although if you’re 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 won’t go into detail here because I’ve covered how I cook pasta in this recipe here. (Don’t @ 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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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years ago

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Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 4.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s 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.

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.

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queenofmahishmati · 6 years ago

Note

Hi Sharme!! Hope you're well and finally got to sleep 💖💖💖💖 For the ask thingy - 1 - 20 please 😄💐💖💝 xxx

Awww thank you so much Neha 💕 indeed, I’m 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 lol…

Ask game ⇢

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 nose— definitely no. So I wrap up my scarf extra tight around my face on cold winter mornings.

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.

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 don’t wanna feel like I murdered my own babies. But they are not really babies cause tiny humans keep making noise and I’d 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: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

My… name. Yes, my name is a running joke in my friends’ circle.

12: what’s your favorite planet?

You kidding me?? Its Earth. Until they find an equally awesome planet to live in, Earth would be my favourite.

13: what’s something that made you smile today?

My mum sending me random pictures of every little thing she’s packing up in my diwali care package. I can’t 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.

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

Unlike Earth’s 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 there’s this massive black hole coming for us at a speed of 5 million miles?? But its still 8 billion light years away. I’m not good at math but I’m 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: what’s your favorite pasta dish?

Eaaaasyyy. Lasagna. I love me some meat lasagna. I don’t have the patience to make one though.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

I already answered this. I’d 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 it…ughhhh. It’s still embarrassing to think about that picture.

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.

20: what’s 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. It’s familiar. It’s comfort. It’s home.

#neha #rangdeenis #answered #cute asks #tysm nehabear #know me better

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darkmystress00 · 6 years ago

Text

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

“You what?” Daryl hissed narrowing his eyes.

“I-I mean. I’m imagining what colors might look like.” She faltered. “My daddy used to tell me all about them when my mama was alive.” She took a tentative step back, away from him. The look on his face read like thunder and Beth was scared she’d just dug herself a hole she couldn’t get out of.

Daryl’s 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 Daryl’s 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. He’d never really allowed himself a moment to do that; shouldn’t 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, he’d do his best to see her trained properly, but after that it wasn’t 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. “Y’really shouldn’t be out here.” She gave a quick nod before taking a hesitant step forward while tucking her knife away. “Go’on.” 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, she’d been avoiding being around Daryl. It wasn’t 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 didn’t seem that way. He was keen on coming to his own conclusion. And that’s what made her nervous. He could possibly be the only one on this whole farm that would see her; truly see her. And she didn’t want to mess that up...if she hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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.

~~~

“Afternoon, boys.” Hershel said as he neared Rick and Daryl. Both men tipped their heads. “I got kind of an odd request. Our food stores are running a touch low,” he hedged carefully, “I’ve been tryin’ to stretch the crops we got so far, but I’m afraid it ain’t much without some protein.” Both men nodded. “We got some livestock animals, but if we sacrifice one, there’s no tellin’ how that will hurt us in the long run.”

“Say no more, Hershel.” Rick offered. “I’m sure we can find somethin’ in the forest.” Hershel brightened as Daryl stooped to scoop up his crossbow.

“That would be mighty fine of you sirs.” Hershel nodded. “It’d be a nice surprise for Bethy what with her birthday comin’ up.” Daryl paused as he turned to leave the group.

“Beth’s birthday is coming up?” Rick’s voice rose in surprise.

“Yes sir. Day after next.” Hershel shoved his hands in his pockets gently. “We don’t do much for it, considering. But it’d be nice to have a full meal available. Kind of a celebration of sorts.” 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 didn’t mean she didn’t 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 Beth’s birthday was just an extra excuse to get out here and hunt. It wasn’t like he liked the girl. No...definitely not.

~~~

Beth groaned as she peeled her shirt up over her head. She’d had a hard day today. She’d woken bright and early intending to train before her chores, but Daryl was nowhere to be seen. She’d 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. She’d worked clear through the day and felt about ready to drop, but she couldn’t 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. She’d 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.

“Happy birthday Beth!” 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.

“We know it ain’t much, but we put together a little something for dinner.” Rick swept his hand over the table that was just covered with food. Beth let out a small gasp.

“Oh my goodness.” She breathed staring over the meal. There were carrots, potatoes, green beans (canned of course), and rabbit.

“Snared us a couple a rabbits. Figured we could enjoy some today and then store the rest. Use them for different meals.” Beth’s eye shot up to Daryl and she smiled.

“That was very smart of you Daryl.” She breathed. “We can make jerky and maybe make some soups from the bones.” 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. “My word.” She shook her head. “Thank you everyone. This is so amazing.” She looked around at everyone one more time. “Let’s eat. I can’t wait any longer.” 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 hadn’t seen their little group this happy in a long while. Who’d 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 couldn’t find it in him to be bothered. He didn’t 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 he’d gotten when Beth had paid him that compliment about the rabbits. If he was that way with a nobody, shouldn’t he have stronger feelings with his soul mate? Trust the Dixon gene to be so fucked up that even this soulmate shit didn’t 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 hadn’t 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 day’s 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.

“C’mon girl. We gotta move.”

“Daryl, what’s goin’ on?” She cried as she heard gun fire from outside and the shouts of their group members.

“Walkers.” He responded as he pulled her downstairs. “A lot of them.” Her eyes widened. “We can’t stay here.”

“What?” 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.

“Move Greene!” 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.

Taglist: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @fangirl1802 @blueicevalkyrie @deathtonormalcy56 @walkerfairytales @redrosalie1

If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know in a message. I would be glad to add you!

#bethyl #bethylff #bethylfic #bethylfiction #bethyl ff #bethyl fic #bethyl fiction #bethylfanfiction #bethyl fanfiction #darkmystress00 #my fics #ilc

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moocha-muses · 7 years ago

Text

I May Have a Tiny Crush

Or, The Full Story of How Don Lothario and Darren Dreamer Ended Up Smooching.

(Frankly I don’t know if I can see these two settling down into domestic bliss together, but life’s 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, “I’m sorry, Cass,” 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.

…

It would probably be the wrong moment to tell Cassandra that he loved her.

Don was seriously considering leaving town. If it wasn’t for all the work he’d put into establishing himself at Pleasantview General, he’d 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 Cassandra’s. Would it have been better if he’d just gone through with it when every cell in his brain was screaming at him to run? Cassandra Goth didn’t want a man to be married out of a sense of obligation, did she? She’d 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 she’d 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 didn’t deserve a complete shunning, either.

Even Kaylynn wasn’t return his calls. Too busy with her new girlfriend - Don still couldn’t 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 wasn’t more than that. It was selfish, but he wanted to be the most important person in someone’s 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 hadn’t 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 - “Afternoon, Dreamer.”

Darren Dreamer actually glared at him, which was a laugh. Don wouldn’t have expected a guy as passive as Dreamer to do anything more more cutting than pretend he was deaf.

Don cleared his throat.

“Do you need something?” Dreamer snarled.

“You’re standing in front the lemons,” 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 hadn’t noticed other guys once she’d started dating him. It had been flattering - at least, until he’d 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 Darren’s 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.

“Lothario! Hey, uh, Dr. Lothario. Are you free right now?”

* * *

“You want me to what?”

“My male model canceled on me at the last minute,” Darren explained, “but I need to paint right now, while the image is still in my head. You’re a little old but you’ve got good muscle. Good flesh tones. Beautiful eyes. Green like Heather’s, which is too bad, but … you’ll do. I’ll pay you, of course. What do you have on under those track pants? You’re comfortable with nudity, aren’t you? You are a doctor.”

Don considered the phrase, ‘No fucking way,’ but he swallowed it. He considered. “You must really be desperate.” 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. “I guess I could help you out, Dreamer. For art’s sake.”

“Go ahead and strip then,” Darren said, shining with relief.

“I won’t even charge you. It’s not like I can’t spare the time. I’m newly single, remember?”

The shot missed. Darren was arguing with his other muse.

“You want me to work with a total stranger? What if he’s a creep?”

“Mr. Lothario, sorry, Dr. Lothario isn’t a creep, Heather. Would I ask a creep to model with you?”

“You don’t have to keep calling me doctor.”

“I want hazard pay,” Heather said firmly.

“Fine, I’ll give you your overtime rates. But that’s just for today. Don’t think this is a permanent raise. Now get that robe off so I can make sure your bruises haven’t smeared.”

“Yessir!”

Don began pulling his pants down.

“Let me retouch the one on your thigh. Okay, Lothario, Heather’s going to be strangling you. It’s a easy pose for a beginner because you can just lie there.” He smudged something purple onto Heather’s smooth white thigh. Don needed to either stop watching or put his pants back on.

“You’ll be lying prone on the floor, she’ll be crouching over you, hands around your neck. Heather can do the heavy lifting on expressions, so don’t worry about that. I want a 50s look, so I’ll need to put something in your hair … ”

* * *

“Look, I get it,“ said Heather, "but I’m not flattered or interested.” She gave Don a second look and shrugged. “Not at the moment, anyway. Just try and think of me as a piece of furniture.” She shot Darren a look. “This is why I like working with Jimmy. He knows how to act professional.”

Darren frowned at Don. “No, don’t look embarrassed,” he admonished. “That’s not even close to the expression I want. The erections’s good, though. He’s supposed to be egging you on, so … Can you … ”

“Darren, if he touches me with that thing I am out.”

“I’m doing my best,” Don said. He sounded mortified.

“Hold it,” Darren said. “Let me just finish that part of the sketch - and mix some paint samples. I want to capture that color.”

“Artists!” Heather groaned, all her exasperation rolled up into one ball. Don looked like he understood.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this again.”

Don was sitting on the counter in Darren’s kitchen in just his underwear, letting the other man comb pomade into his hair.

“I really appreciate it,” Darren said. “But I’m guessing you’re here more for the lovely Miss Huffington than for art.”

Don stiffened. Heather? The lovely, luscious girl in the other room? He hadn’t 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 wouldn’t have guessed a man who still hadn’t tried making a play for Cassandra to have so much …

Passion.

Cassandra’s consuming, singled-minded interest in every new hypothesis, the way she’d stop at nothing to teach it to everyone else …

The way Nina threw herself headfirst into everything, no safety nets, no restraint . . .

Darren’s total absorption in his own work, death and blind to everything but the vision in his head…

Don liked passion.

He shook his head to clear it. “Don’t move,” Darren said gently. He put a hand on Don’s jaw to steady him. His skin was warm and dry. “You’ve got such thick hair,” Darren muttered. His eyes were far away. “ I should’ve 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-”

Had Dreamer’s voice always been that … husky?

Heather’s 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.

“There’s no way I can bend my arm like that.”

“Are you saying you aren’t flexible enough?” Darren shook his head and tsked. “I knew I should have stuck to younger models.”

“Oh, I’m plenty flexible, old man-”

“I just bet you are,” Darren muttered.

“You should try yoga,” Heather chimed in from underneath him.

“I do yoga.”

“What, seriously?”

“Even if I could get into the pose,” Don went on, ignoring her, “I’d probably strain myself holding it. Don’t they teach you anything about basic anatomy at art school?”

“All right, Doctor. What do you suggest?”

“Well, if you really want to have that fold of sheet visible, then I could …”

“You’ve got some paint on your cheek.”

“Where?”

“Hold on, I’ll get it.”

remember to breathe

…

he’s a flirt. he flirts with everyone.

There still weren’t many people in Pleasantview who would invite Don Lothario out for a drink. He definitely hadn’t expected Darren Dreamer to ever be one of them.

“Well, you won’t let me pay you for modeling.” Darren got Marylena’s 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.

“What are you drawing?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the shape of your eyebrows right.”

Don snorted. “Should I keep my face still? Are my many medical exploits distracting you?”

“No, I like watching them move.” He made a few small strokes with his pen. "Actually, can you hold right there?”

Don didn’t 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 …

“One of your models asked me out.”

Darren jerked to attention. “Heather? She didn’t break up with her girlfriend, did she?”

“Not Heather. Tiffany. The one with the obvious trust-fund. What’s she doing slumming as an artist’s model, anyway?”

“You’ll have to ask her on your date,” Darren said. He crumpled the cocktail napkin he’d been sketching on into a ball and started tearing small pieces off it. “Better take her someplace nice.”

Don sipped his beer. “I let her down gently. She’s a little young for me,” he said. He glanced carefully at the man on the next barstool. “What about you?”

Darren looked up. His own eyebrows rose. “Are you asking me out to dinner?”

Don choked on his beer. He coughed. “Have you ever gone out with one of your models?”

Darren snorted. “Of course not. If you’re too old for them, what does that make a fossil like me?”

Those girls aren’t that much younger than Cassandra, Don thought. You aren’t that much older than me. And the edge of both those thoughts stung.

Darren ordered them another round of beers. “Isn’t this supposed to be a good season for stargazing?”

Don perked up instantly. “It really is! See, the orbit of the moons …“

It was the fourth time he’d agreed to pose.

Darren didn’t know why Don kept agreeing. He didn’t 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. “Gives a chance to read through patient reports and new medical journals in my head.”

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 Don’s 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 him…

He wanted to capture the man …

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 Darren’s 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.

“Don’t move your head.”

“What?”

“You’re moving your head again. The wrapper’s going to fall. Hold still.“

"Yeah, all right.”

“I don’t see why you can’t hold still,” 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 Don’s hair. He tucked the condom wrapper back into position where it could resume imitating a laurel leaf. Then he took a possessive hold on Don’s head and began twitching it back and forth. “We’re losing the light,” he complained. “There’s a certain light I want to paint you in. If I could just paint you properly-,” his finger skated over Don’s jaw, “-you’re too good for Dionysus, you’re-”

Don kissed him. His lips brushed against the corner of the other man’s mouth. He wondered which of them was more surprised.

Darren murmured, “What are you-”

his voice is fucking sexy

“I-” Don You - you reminded me of Cassandra.“ 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. "You’re not getting out of this that easily, Lothario.”

And he kissed Don right back.

“If we’re going to do this,” Darren growled, “The only name you’re going to say is mine.”

#ts2 #the sims 2 #simfic #i may have a tiny crush #pleasantview #darrendreamer #don lothario #the whole thing one post

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172salamandersinatrenchcoat · 7 years ago

Text

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 dad’s lectures

{10:25] Levi: Fuck.

[10:26] Levi: I hope you’re 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: i’m off work at 7

[10:36] Eren: small restaurant named Wall Rose?

[10:40] Levi: I like the Rose. Okay, I’ll meet you there at 7:30?

[10:41] Eren: awesome <3 i can’t 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: … i’m good. thx Levi. <3

[11:15] Levi: You’re 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 Levi’s 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.

Levi’s 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 Levi’s smile alone would be enough to chase away the bitter aftertaste his father’s lecture left in his mouth.

God, Eren has it bad.

He yearns to hear Levi’s 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. He’s 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.

“You look like you bit into a citrus.”

Levi almost jumps into the air in surprise. His phone slips from his hand. He barely catches it in time.

“Geez, Eren,” he admonishes. “You scared the fuck out of --” Any words he wanted to say get stuck in his throat at the sight of his date. It sends a shiver down Eren’s spine to see Levi speechless because of him.

He’s 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 Eren’s 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 Eren’s 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. “Fuck, you look amazing!” he says while he stands up, obviously flustered. It’s a look that Eren would like to see more often on his face. “I don’t … damn, I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s alright,” Eren says, grinning like a fool. “You just made my day to be quite honest.”

“And you made mine,” 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. “Shall we, brat?”

Eren loops his arm around Levi’s and grins. “Lead the way.”

.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 they’d 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 isn’t 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.

“Oh, nice,” Levi says suddenly, delighted. “They have Ceylon again.”

“Ceylon?” Eren looks at the name printed on the page. “Isn’t that a black tea brand?”

“Yes,” Levi answers. “It’s 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.” He ends his rant suddenly. “Oh god, sorry. I don’t usually ramble like this.”

“I think it’s cute,” 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 could’ve watched him until the end of his days. It makes him smile. “You really like tea, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Levi’s cheeks color. “I’ve started drinking it as a kid.”

“You’re so passionate,” Eren grins. Making Levi blush is as easy as it is charming. “I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

“Sure,” Levi clears his throat. “What do you want to eat?”

Accepting this change of topic, Eren looks at the menu once more. “I think I’ll take the chicken pasta.”

“Neat. I’m gonna take the fish.”

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.

“God, I love that taste.”

“I bet,” Eren says, trying to get his hormones under control. It’s 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--

“Aren’t you going to try yours, brat?”

“Er--” Eren is at a loss for words. “Sure.”

He tries the tea and finds it a tad too bitter for his liking, then adds sugar to Levi’s obvious snort. It is quite delicious afterward.

They enjoy their tea in sweet silence until the meal arrives. Levi’s fish is still steaming from the grill, whereas Eren’s 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.

“I love the food here,” Eren says after he’d swallowed his first bite. “It reminds me of my mom’s cooking.”

“Was she a good cook?” Levi asks.

“Yeah, the best,” Eren’s spirit seems down for a moment, then he smiles wistfully. “She thought me a few things. If you want, I could cook for you some time?”

“I’d love to have you cook for me,” Levi admits. “I can’t cook for shit.”

“Really? Do you set a kitchen aflame just by walking into it?”

“It’s not that bad yet, brat.” Levi smiles into his tea, Eren can see it through the wrinkles around his eyes. It fairly suits him. “I can do scrambled eggs.”

“Everyone can do scrambled eggs.”

“You make it sound as if I need a degree to work in a kitchen.”

“Not a degree -- more experience, and a helping tutor of course.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Levi shoves a forkful of white fish meat into his mouth. “I have a tutor sitting right here if he’s willing.”

“I always am,” Eren says in a sultry tone. It made Levi chuckle.

“Not bad, brat, not bad.”

They return to their meals after the banter, as they don’t 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 he’d been thinking about for hours.

“Say, Levi,” he started. A glance at the black haired man tells him that he has his attention. “Say -- how would you like to go to a movie with me?”

“Sure,” comes the answer, fast as a shot from a pistol. “When and where?”

“Actually,” Eren’s hands become sweaty. He grips the fabric of his dress tightly. “I thought about -- maybe right now?”

“Oh.” Levi looks at his watch. It’s barely nine. The evening is still young and fresh. “Ok.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Levi chuckles while Eren sighs in relief. “You don’t want to go home yet, do you?”

Eren’s silence is answering enough. He feels Levi’s arm slide around his shoulder, then the smaller man is sitting right next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Levi says quietly. The honesty in his voice makes Eren tremble. “I understand where you’re coming from. Having your parents yell at you for reasons that you can’t change without denying your true self seems to be going around.”

Eren laughs. “You make it sound like a sickness.”

“Perhaps it is,” Levi tightens his grip. “You’re wonderful and talented, and if your Dad can’t realize that, then it is his loss.” He sounds so sure as if he had done this before. His parents must’ve been assholes, too. “No one should be afraid to go home.”

“I -- Levi --” Eren doesn’t 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 Eren’s life. He can’t explain it otherwise.

Before he can stop himself, he has shortened the distance between them and presses his lips against Levi’s 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 Eren’s lips with his tongue.

Eren’s eyes slide shut. His hands roam about Levi’s body for a second, before they settle at the shorter man’s waist. Eren can feel the softness of Levi’s shirt below his fingers, as well as the hardening body beneath it. Their tongues start a desperate battle. All blood leaves Eren’s 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.

“No,” 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 doesn’t want to have a fall out with one of his favorite restaurants, either. He, therefore, opts for polite neutrality. “We’d like the bill, please.”

The waiter nods sharply before he basically runs off. Still blushing, Eren can’t help but chuckle at his haste. He gently covers one of Levi’s hands with his own and watches the other visibly relax. “You handled that well.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, then levels a warm gaze at Eren. It makes the brunette shiver despite the warmth in the restaurant. “I was tempted to chew him out, but I happen to like meals here.”

“They are really delicious, aren’t they?” Eren hums. He takes one of the tablecloths and folds it into a square, needs to occupy his hands or else he’s 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, doesn’t even accept when Eren tries to intervene -- “We could at least share it, Levi.” - “No, this one's on me. You can pay for the movie if you want to lose money so badly.” - “... Fine.” -- 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.

“Everything alright?” Eren asks teasingly, a grin on his face. At this rate, it will become a permanent fixture on his face, he’s sure of that.

“I just thought -- nevermind.”

“Oh, come on,” Eren bugs. “Tell me? What did you think?”

Levi turns even redder, then clears his throat. “... I thought about how much I wanted to kiss your neck right now.”

“Oh.” Now it is Eren’s time to blush. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he blurts out before he can even think about it.

Levi laughs. “Of course you wouldn't.” He shakes his head for a moment, then looks at his phone. “We should probably get going to the cinema, though. To catch your movie.”

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. “Alright,” he purrs, grabs for Levi’s hand and drags him along. “Let’s hurry then!”

.0.0.0.0.0.0.

They end up expulsed from the cinema for ‘steamy behavior’ halfway through the movie. Eren almost keels over while they leave since he’s 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 one’s hand and guides it back to where it had slipped under his dress before a security guard asked them to ‘leave’. He finds Levi’s lips once more and moans into his mouth when Levi squeezes his thigh.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles against Levi’s lips when they break apart for air, then surges back into the kiss. Levi’s hand is warm as it trails up and down Eren’s leg, and he can’t help growing hard as fast as he does. His leg bends on its own accord and wraps itself around Levi’s waist, drags the other even closer than before.

“I don’t intend to,” Levi groans. “You taste so good, Eren.”

Warmth spreads through Eren’s being, and before he can help it his lips are on Levi’s again. One of his hands finds its way into Levi’s hair, nails scraping over the short strands of the other’s undercut, while the second goes to Levi’s own on his thigh. He breaks the kiss and guides it to his crotch. “Look what you do to me,” he whispers.

The reaction is not as anticipated.

Levi tenses the moment he touches Eren’s groin. Grey eyes widen, then dart from Eren’s 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.

“Levi?” he asks carefully. Gently. “Is everything alright?”

“I --,” Levi breaks off, suddenly pale, then licks his lips. “I -- you -- Eren you have a dick.”

“Er--” At first, Eren doesn’t understand. Yes, he has a dick, he’s a guy after -- oh. Oh. Of course. His grip on Levi’s hand loosens with sudden realization. “Oh, Levi. I’m sorry.”

Levi shakes his head. He looks oddly vulnerable. “It’s okay,” he says. “I should’ve known. Of course you have a dick. You’re a guy.” And I’m not, goes unsaid, but Eren hears it in the defeated tone of Levi’s 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 doesn’t 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 doesn’t want to acknowledge just yet.

“I won’t like you any less if you tell me that it is, in fact, not okay,” he says quietly. Levi breathes harshly. “I 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.” Another harsh breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob has Eren press Levi’s body even closer. Slowly but surely, Levi hugs him back.

“I’m sorry,” the shorter man mumbles in a voice full of unshed tears. “I didn’t know it would affect me like that but … when I held your … it is hard to explain--”

“Shh, it’s alright. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know,” Levi says. He lifts his head and locks his gaze with Eren. “But I want to give you one.”

“Okay,” Eren only manages, then waits patiently for Levi to find words. He rests his arms on Levi’s shoulders and interlaces his hands behind the shorter man’s neck. Levi’s right hand finds Eren’s forearm and squeezes it in silent thanks.

“... I’m jealous,” Levi finally blurts out. “You were born with a dick and you’ve never had to struggle with what I’m going through and … shit, this is hard --,” Levi swallows harshly. He looks away before he continues, “for 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 …weird. I can’t 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 didn’t they were so disappointed in me. They called me names … and they … they ” He breaks off, clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I feel so guilty for being jealous of you.”

“You don’t have to. Feel guilty, that is.” Eren places a gentle kiss on Levi’s forehead. It makes Levi look at him again. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me,” Eren answers. “I know it must’ve been hard to admit the truth. Not only to me, but to yourself as well.”

Levi looks at him oddly, then-- “How can you be real?”

“Excuse me?”

“How can you be actually, properly real?” Levi pinches his cheek. The color has returned to his face and he looks a lot more like himself. “I swear, half the time today I thought I was dreaming.”

“... I take that as a compliment,” Eren grins cheekily.

“You better. I don’t often compliment people, brat.” Thank fuck, Levi has returned to normal. On a sudden impulse, Eren places a wet kiss on Levi’s cheek which has the shorter man immediately recoil from him. “Fuck, now I have drool all over my face!”

Eren just laughs.

“That isn’t funny,” Levi chides but doesn’t wipe the wetness away yet. Instead, he takes Eren’s hands in his and looks at him with sudden profoundness. “Thank you, Eren. For listening. I didn’t know I needed that.”

“Anytime,” Eren responds honestly. “And just for the record, we can take it slow. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“The same goes to you,” Levi places a chaste kiss on Eren’s lips before he interlaces his right with Eren’s left. “Since we couldn’t finish the movie, let’s walk around until you feel comfortable enough to go home.”

And there it is again, that warm feeling that spreads through him whenever he is in Levi’s 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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impendingexodus · 7 years ago

Text

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! I’m 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 Keith’s 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 Keith’s waist.

“‘s it morning already?”

Keith grumbled and reluctantly opened one eye. On the bedside table, the clock read 6:27.

“Three more minutes,” he said. Three minutes to relax into his husband’s warmth behind him. Three minutes of rest before he had to pull himself together to face the day.

“Sounds good,” Shiro answered, pulling Keith closer. He buried his face against Keith’s back, between his shoulderblades, and sighed. Keith slid a hand down and laced their fingers together where Shiro’s 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 Keith’s back.

“We should sleep in,” Keith groaned into his pillow. “Call in sick.”

“You know we can’t do that.” Shiro leaned over and planted a kiss on Keith’s bare shoulder. “C’mon, get up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

He felt Shiro stand up and heard his slow shuffle toward the bathroom.

“You’d better be up by the time I’m done showering!”

“Yeah, yeah.” 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 they’d 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 he’d ever dreamed of. Waking up with his husband close beside him, going about his day knowing that he could come home to Shiro’s 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. Keith’s 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.

“Good to see you’re fully conscious,” the older man greeted him, turning around from where he was frying eggs on the stove. “I was wondering if you’d fallen asleep in there.”

“Your confidence in me knows no bounds.” 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.

“I trust awake you a lot more than sleepy you,” Shiro said, sparing one hand to rest over Keith’s own. The gold band on his finger shone softly where it rested against the matching one on Keith’s hand.

“Well right now you’re dealing with hungry me, so how does that affect your calculations?”

Shiro squeezed his hand before picking up the spatula to flip the almost-burning eggs. “It makes me think someone ought to be getting a plate if he wants to eat before heading out.”

“Ha.” Keith bumped his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder; the other man shoved back and Keith pulled away, laughing, and opened the cabinet.

Breakfast might have been simple, but it was each other’s 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 Shiro’s calf. Shiro buttered his toast, then casually reached over the table and picked up Keith’s own to spread jam on it.

“Thanks, love,” Keith murmured, hardly looking up. It wasn’t 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 other’s company.

Keith finished eating first and made a halfhearted attempt to steal the last bit of Shiro’s toast but the other man was too quick for him.

“Slowpoke,” 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. Shiro’s fingers found the tender spot over Keith’s 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 Shiro’s 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.

“We need to be going,” 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 man’s chest, Shiro threading his fingers through Keith’s dark hair.

Then the alarm clock sounded again, a harsh reminder that jolted through them, and Shiro apologetically pulled away. “That’s the last call,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Gotta go.”

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.

“Have a great day at work,” 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.

“You too. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love ya.”

“Love you, Keith.”

----

It wasn’t often that Keith got home before Shiro, but he didn’t 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 he’d 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t for lack of skill. He knew plenty of good recipes by heart -- and there was the chance he’d memorized some of Shiro’s favorites just for this occasion. Lasagna, green beans, dinner rolls. Nothing too fancy, but their relationship didn’t 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 he’d been lying when he thought the silence didn’t bother him. It was a little bit lonely in here without Shiro’s presence. Even when the other man was busy, typing away on his laptop or sorting through paperwork, he was usually in Keith’s 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 Shiro’s 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 wasn’t 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. Shiro’s 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. Hadn’t he told Keith that he’d see him tonight? Shiro would never break a promise like that. He’d be home. He’d 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 he’d 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 anyone’s.

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 he’d 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 didn’t want to dial the number but he had to. Slowly his fingers navigated to his contact list, to the first listing, where Shiro’s 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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.

“Keith? You here?”

He sat up on instinct. “Shiro?”

“Everything okay? Dinner’s burning in here.”

Suddenly there were tears burning Keith’s 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.

“The candles are a sweet touch,” he started to say, but stopped as Keith collided with his chest. “Oh, love. What’s wrong?” A strong arm was around Keith’s shoulders instantly, pulling him closer as he sobbed into Shiro’s shirt.

Shiro tried to walk them into the living room but Keith’s legs couldn’t 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 Keith’s back. Eventually Keith was able to get his panicked breathing under control, his heart inexplicably racing now that the danger was gone.

“Keith, can you look at me?”

He gulped in a breath and looked up, meeting worried gray eyes. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“Why --? I’m okay, I’m right here.” Shiro cupped Keith’s face with his flesh hand. “I promise I’m okay.”

Keith wrapped his hand tightly around Shiro’s, using him as a pillar of strength to ground himself. “It’s just... there was a wreck on the news, and it looked like your car, and you were late getting home --”

“I was late because I was getting you flowers,” 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. “You thought I’d forget our not-anniversary?”

Keith choked out a laugh. “You were buying flowers, and I thought you’d died!” He clenched a fist and pummeled it against Shiro’s chest. “How could you let me think that?”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Shiro took three of the blows but on the fourth he caught Keith’s wrist. “I promise there won’t be any more surprises from me.”

“Speaking of,” Keith glanced at where the lasagna had three more minutes on the timer, “you’ve got time to make it up to me.”

Shiro stretched out his legs and rested his back against the cabinets, Keith still settled in his lap. “How many kisses do you think it’ll take?” he asked, already starting to pepper light kisses along Keith’s cheeks, following the tracks of his erstwhile tears.

“How many are you willing to give me?”

“As many as I’ve got in me.”

Keith rested their foreheads together, breathing returned to normal, and pecked lightly at Shiro’s lips. “We’ve got four years behind us. Here’s to a lifetime more.”

Shiro tilted his head back and pressed their mouths together. They kissed for a long time, long enough for Keith’s 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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