#in the last post i said i will eat my own words if anything changes 🥴 clearly nothing has changed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snorlaxlovesme · 9 months

Text

let me do this for you

"Lu Guang’s limbs feel heavy as he climbs the stairs, every changed minute weighing down his body as he goes to check on Cheng Xiaoshi. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again." Lu Guang experiences Cheng Xiaoshi being sick for the first time. Twice.

My long-awaited Link Click fic is finally here!! I have been so excited to post this for MONTHS because it's genuinely one of my favorite things I've written. I love Link Click for letting me write just about anything with a layer of agony over it because Lu Guang is in a permanent state of anxious paranoia about messing up the timeline. It means even the funny bits include angst :)

So this baby's got it all! Sickfic shenanigans, big sister Qiao Ling, whiny Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang feeling like he's mourning every time he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi's face, soup..... What more could you ask for?

(Spoilers for season 2. Content warning for vomiting. 12k words. Ignore the fact that I completely messed up the layout of the studio and then didn't want to change it. The living room and their made-up kitchen are on their own separate floor, because I said so.) (ao3 link)

---

Dingdingding. Dingdingding. Dingdingding.

Lu Guang cracks his eyes open and feels around next to his pillow for his phone, thumbing at the screen to turn off his morning alarm. Early morning sunlight is already filtering in through the window, so Lu Guang relents that it’s time to start the day. He pulls himself down the ladder, ignoring the groans from Cheng Xiaoshi coming from the bottom bunk as his own phone begins to buzz. Lu Guang silently descends the stairs, allowing Cheng Xiaoshi his customary extra few minutes of sleep while Lu Guang prepares tea and a simple breakfast for the two of them.

After living together for almost a year, Lu Guang enjoys the comfort he finds in this familiar morning routine. He sets the breakfast on the table and sets to eating his own, waiting for his roommate.

But Cheng Xiaoshi never comes down. Lu Guang waits patiently, knowing that Cheng Xiaoshi is a sloth and some days he takes longer to rouse himself than others. But after watching the time tick by on his watch for 21 minutes, he can no longer idly wait. Lu Guang climbs the stairs, ready to bang his fist on the doorframe to wake his roommate up, when Cheng Xiaoshi flies past him, almost knocking Lu Guang over, and runs straight for the bathroom.

Lu Guang waits outside the bathroom door impatiently. “Hurry up or we’re going to be late—”

And that’s when Cheng Xiaoshi starts retching.

The morning does not get more pleasant after that. As it turns out, the only thing more annoying that an overly chipper, healthy Cheng Xiaoshi is a sick one.

---

“Was it something you ate?” Lu Guang asks Cheng Xiaoshi reproachfully. The first round of puking had only lasted a few minutes, but before Lu Guang even had a chance to speak to Cheng Xiaoshi properly, he was back in the bathroom, coughing and moaning as he continued expelling everything he had in his stomach.

Cheng Xiaoshi is on the couch in the living room now, looking a little green and definitely not in the mood for answering questions. The quilt from his bed is wrapped around his body, coming up over head to look like a hood.

“How should I know? It’s not like the answer was written at the bottom of the toilet bowl.”

Lu Guang sighs. “We ate the same meals yesterday. I was just wondering if your food felt off in any way.”

“If it felt off, I wouldn’t have eaten it!”

This is debatable. Lu Guang has seen Cheng Xiaoshi eat plenty of things in the name of “not letting it go to waste” that seemed questionable. While this situation is an appropriate time to mention that fact, Lu Guang refrains.

“Okay, well maybe you have a virus, then.”

Cheng Xiaoshi holds a hand to his stomach pathetically. “Can you cure me, Lu Guang?”

“No, but I can go downstairs to open the studio alone while you stay up here and keep your puke away from the customers.”

This is apparently the wrong response, because Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes widen like he was just told that Lu Guang is moving out of the country today.

“You’re leaving me?” he cries. “In my hour of need, you’re going to abandon me?”

Lu Guang rolls his eyes. “I’m going to be directly underneath you, idiot. Just call me if you need something. Someone has to pay rent this month.”

“Do you think Qiao Ling would come take care of me?”

“Qiao Ling has her own priorities besides dealing with your whining. Go lay back down; I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

Lu Guang leaves silently. He wasn’t wrong; they really did need to open the studio today. There were customers scheduled to pick up their prints this morning. He makes sure to take his phone off silent mode as he works, in case Cheng Xiaoshi calls for something, but he never does. Lu Guang finds himself staring nervously at his phone throughout the morning. Is Cheng Xiaoshi still throwing up? Has he made it to the toilet every time, or is he defacing every surface of their apartment in revenge? Does he need something? Why hasn’t he called?

By lunch time, Lu Guang can’t stand it. He locks up the studio and goes upstairs to check on his roommate. His worries melt away when he sees Cheng Xiaoshi in the exact same position he was left in, strewn across the couch with a plastic-lined wastepaper basket on the floor beside him, groaning pathetically.

“Lu Guaaaaaang….” Cheng Xiaoshi moans, long and desperate. “Everything huuuurts.”

Lu Guang tries a gentle approach. “Could you be more specific? Is it your stomach? Does your body ache? Are you feverish?”

Cheng Xiaoshi pulls the quilt higher, tucking it under his chin. “I’m not gonna make it. Call Qiao Ling. Tell her to come quickly so I can update my will.”

Lu Guang sighs. “You’re not dying, idiot. You probably have a virus. Or it was something you ate. Now could you tell me the rest of your symptoms?”

Cheng Xiaoshi ignores his questions yet again, cracking his eyes open slowly, like it’s taking him a great amount of effort to do so. “Have you called Qiao Ling? Does she know I’m ill?”

“I could help you get better if you’d just tell me what’s wrong,” Lu Guang says crossly. The quilt is pulled up so high he can barely see Cheng Xiaoshi under the blanket. Does he have a fever? Does he need medication? He debates leaning forward to feel his forehead but doesn’t know a way to pull it off without it seeming strange. He refrains. “I know your stomach is upset, but what else—”

Cheng Xiaoshi rolls over flippantly. “Tell me when Qiao Ling gets here. I’ll only speak to her. I’m taking you out of my will.”

Lu Guang looks to the ceiling, balling his hands into fists and breathing slowly. After a few slow exhales he calmly tells Cheng Xiaoshi that he should try eating something small to settle his stomach. He goes to their pantry and prepares a small dish full of plain wonton strips and a glass of cool water.

“I have to go back to work. Please try to eat something,” Lu Guang says evenly. He ignores the cries of “Qiao Lingggggggg!” echoing through the apartment as he leaves.

Lu Guang returns to the front counter, pulling out several canisters of film that still needed to be developed for customers later this week. Thankfully, they don’t have any new clients from Qiao Ling. Lu Guang isn’t entirely sure how their powers would work if Cheng Xiaoshi was sick during a dive. His physiology tends to get transferred to the person in the past he possesses. Would their client start puking uncontrollably mid-dive? Lu Guang dreads the thought.

No, this is better. Let Cheng Xiaoshi sleep if off while Lu Guang tends to the studio. Cheng Xiaoshi will have to dip into his meager savings to pay for his half of the rest this month if he doesn’t come back to work in the next few days, but that can’t be helped. If he’s lucky, Qiao Ling will be merciful on him.

Lu Guang stares at the canisters on the counter before him. The studio is blessedly quiet without Cheng Xiaoshi’s usual chittering and loud pop music playing through the speakers of his phone. Lu Guang should be reveling in the silence, but he does feel marginally bad for leaving Cheng Xiaoshi by himself upstairs, no matter how irritating his dramatics are.

Lu Guang picks up his cell phone and dials Qiao Ling’s number.

---

Qiao Ling arrives around closing time, a paper bag full of groceries on her hip as she opens the front door to the Time Photo Studio, the pre-recorded greeting ringing through the silence.

“Is he in bed?” Qiao Ling asks, before remembering her manners and greeting Lu Guang properly.

Lu Guang waves away formalities. “He’s on the couch. He keeps calling for you,” he tells her, his normal deadpan tone giving way to the smallest hint of annoyance.

Qiao Ling rolls her eyes, but fondly, and hurries up the stairs. Lu Guang flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and follows her up to the apartment.

“Where’s my patient?” Qiao Ling calls in a sing-song tone. A long, monotonous “uuuuuuuuuuhn” echoes back to her, indicating that Cheng Xiaoshi is still alive, and probably in the same condition Lu Guang left him in.

His assumptions are proven correct when Lu Guang follows Qiao Ling to the living room. Though now Cheng Xiaoshi has a hand over his forehead like a swooning maiden as well. Lu Guang crosses his arms at Cheng Xiaoshi’s childishness. He expects Qiao Ling to share in his annoyance, but she smiles good naturedly as she sits down on the edge of the couch to pull his hand from his face and replace it with her own, pushing his bangs back to feel his temperature.

Lu Guang ignores the odd feeling in his gut watching the tender gesture. Their relationship has always been a curious thing to him. As an only child, sibling dynamics have always been interesting to observe. Though they may not be related by blood, Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi have been together for half of their lives, and little moments like this show their closeness. While Lu Guang spent most of the day reluctant to get within a few feet of Cheng Xiaoshi, Qiao Ling presses her hand gently to his forehead with no hesitation, frowning at whatever she feels. Lu Guang wonders if he should have pushed past his own reservations and checked his temperature himself earlier. He silently curses them for not owning a thermometer.

“Sorry I’m late,” Qiao Ling tells Cheng Xiaoshi. “I was with Xu ShanShan and Dong Yi at the new noodle shop downtown and the trains were far behind schedule. I would have taken a cab back if I knew it was urgent.”

“I almost perished while you were gone. And Lu Guang just left me here!” Cheng Xiaoshi accuses sourly, making a face at Lu Guang that he pointedly ignores.

She pats his cheek twice. “Don’t be like that. Lu Guang was running the studio. Now,” she claps her hands together, “would you like some soup?”

Whatever dumb act Cheng Xiaoshi has been putting on for the whole conversation falls away from his face, his tired eyes lighting up again with genuine happiness. “Really?”

Qiao Ling smiles once more, then hefts her bag from the market back onto her hip and carries it to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep in an actual bed for a while?” she calls over the rustling of the bag as she pulls ingredients out and sets them on their small counter. “Lu Guang can help you!”

Lu Guang isn’t sure what face he is making, but if he had to guess, it probably looks similar to the expression he made last week when he stepped in dog poop on the sidewalk. Cheng Xiaoshi stares back at him, eyes narrowed.

“I can take myself, actually.”

He pulls himself to his feet, albeit much slower than he would on a typical day. Cheng Xiaoshi is normally so bouncy and energetic that Lu Guang often wonders if he’s possessed by a child. Lu Guang’s own muted personality is only made more apparent the longer he spends time by Cheng Xiaoshi’s side.

Cheng Xiaoshi drapes the quilt over his shoulders and shuffles out of the room past Lu Guang. After he leaves, Lu Guang glances at the lined trash can they left by the couch; mercifully, it’s still empty.

Qiao Ling is already in the kitchen, pulling out a few of the ingredients from her bag and setting them on their cutting board beside their hot plate. Calling the meager set-up a “kitchen” is more generous than it deserves. With a sink and a few feet of counter space, the area barely counts as a kitchenette, but Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang make do. It’s not like either of them do much cooking anyway. Their singular hot plate is more than enough to boil water for cup noodles.

He approaches the kitchen and sits on a wooden chair near the counter, watching Qiao Ling as she chops vegetables.

“You’re being awfully nice to him.”

“And you’re being awfully cold,” she counters, thought she doesn’t sound upset by it. “What’s gotten you in such a mood? Did he do something?”

Lu Guang rests his chin on his fist. “No, he’s just been trying my patience all day.”

“That’s nothing new,” she says with a laugh. “He’s always like that when he’s sick. He used to drive my parents crazy when we were kids. Always wallowing and complaining whenever he got even the slightest cold.”

Lu Guang internally wilts. So he’s going to be dealing with dramatics like this every time Cheng Xiaoshi gets sick? How many times will he be written out of his will?

“And you humor him?” Lu Guang asks.

“He’s sick,” Qiao Ling says with a shrug. “It’s the one time I’ll let it slide.”

They fall into an easy silence for a few minutes, Qiao Ling getting a pot of broth simmering on the hot plate as she chops the vegetables, the quiet shuck shuck shuck of the knife against the wooden cutting board being the only sound in the room as Lu Guang reflects on his own attitude.

“What kind of soup are you making him?” Lu Guang asks after a while, peering at the ingredients spread across the counter.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Qiao Ling says dubiously. “When we were little, Cheng Xiaoshi used to always claim that his mom had a soup recipe that would cure you of just about anything. During all his complaining he would beg for his mother’s soup. Taking pity on him, I made him some when we were maybe eleven. He ate it, but according to him it tasted all wrong. It’s been my mission since then to try and replicate the recipe correctly.”

“Are you close?”

Qiao Ling shrugs and shakes her head. “Who knows?”

She points to a piece of paper she set on the counter earlier. A basic herbal soup recipe was written at the top, and the bottom had subsequent ingredients written down, scratched out, added quantity to, over and over again in a formless mess.

“These are all my attempts so far. I found out it starts with chicken bone broth. And contains daikon radishes. And root vegetables. And fennel. But the rest is just blind guessing. He tries to offer me suggestions, but I don’t even know if he remembers what the original tasted like at this point.”

“But you make him soup all the same?”

Qiao Ling nods. “I make him soup all the same. He likes being cared for.”

They devolve into silence once more, this time more comfortably than the last. Lu Guang observes Qiao Ling as she works, stirring the broth and submerging herbs in a small pouch made of cheesecloth. Occasionally, Lu Guang glances at the scribbled-over piece of paper, tallying up all of Qiao Ling’s attempts to replicate Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother’s recipe over the years. Given the amount of time Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling spent arguing, Lu Guang could hardly believe this caring and sweet side of Qiao Ling. They weren’t really siblings, but all the scribbles on that sheet of paper surely remind Lu Guang of something a sister would do for her brother.

After several cycles of simmering, taste-testing, adding ingredients, and simmering once more, Qiao Ling finally declares the soup to be finished. After searching their tiny kitchen and being unable to locate their small wooden serving tray, Qiao Ling settles for retrieving Cheng Xiaoshi from his bed and depositing him in the kitchen beside Lu Guang at the counter.

If his movements were slightly sluggish before, the slowness is only exaggerated now as he gingerly lowers himself to his seat. Lu Guang recalls the small dish of wonton strips and glass of water on the coffee table when he and Qiao Ling came to see him this evening, untouched from how Lu Guang had left them. Cheng Xiaoshi probably hasn’t had anything to eat or drink all day for fear of being sick again. The usually fluffy hair stuck to his temples with sweat indicates he probably does have a fever.

Lu Guang is so focused on Cheng Xiaoshi that he’s surprised when he looks down to see not one bowl of soup, but three being prepared by Qiao Ling.

“We all need to taste-test it, don’t we?” Qiao Ling says with a grin she aims at Cheng Xiaoshi. She slides the bowls across the counter to the boys and places a bowl in front of herself as well.

Cheng Xiaoshi, though still looking haggard, grins back like this is custom, and digs into his soup with a gusto Lu Guang didn’t think he was capable of, given his ailment. Across the counter, Qiao Ling sips from her spoon as well. Not wanting to be rude, Lu Guang dips his spoon into his bowl and brings it to his lips, tasting the soup Qiao Ling has spent the past few hours perfecting. Warmth floods his chest as he swallows the spoonful, and despite not being sick himself, Lu Guang can feel the earthy root vegetables and flavorful broth breathing new life into him. He had no idea Qiao Ling was such a fantastic cook.

“Well?” Qiao Ling asks, looking to Cheng Xiaoshi, who was currently devouring his bowl like he thinks it might be taken from him if he slows down.

He stops suddenly, his spoon clanking against his bowl. He swallows thoughtfully.

“I think you’re getting close!” he says, his smile as sunny as ever. His tone isn’t patronizing; there’s a naïve kindness to it that prevents Qiao Ling from being hurt, though there is a slight disappointment in her eyes that Lu Guang catches, though Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t seem to. It must be frustrating that after all these attempts she’s yet to nail down the correct flavor.

“Maybe it could use more sweetness?” Cheng Xiaoshi muses, like that was something common in bone broth soups.

Nonetheless, Qiao Ling jots down the critique on her cheat sheet diligently, the character for “sweeter” followed by several question marks. Lu Guang doesn’t blame her confusion. His critique is both vague and unhelpful.

All of them finish their bowls of soup, regardless of lack of sweetness. Lu Guang can’t help but marvel at the rich and flavorful taste of the soup, whipped together in only a few hours’ time. When Cheng Xiaoshi begins nodding off at the counter, Qiao Ling places a hand on his shoulder and instructs him to go back to bed.

He nods, sending her a sleepy smile before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Thank you, my landlady!” he says jovially.

“Bah, bah, get out of her before I charge you for it,” Qiao Ling says, sounding more like her usual self, though with the same gentle teasing in her tone she’s been using all day.

Lu Guang waits for Cheng Xiaoshi to leave the room before turning to look Qiao Ling in the eye.

“Sweeter?”

Qiao Ling sucks her lips in for a moment, trying to hold it back, but eventually giggles tumble out of her, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the tiles of the kitchen. Even Lu Guang snorts, unable to help himself.

“He’s always like this,” she says fondly, as she begins ladling the soup into smaller containers to fit in Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi’s fridge. “I try to make him the soup he wants, but he’s so unhelpful. What could have possibly made her soup sweet? Beets?” she asks incredulously. “That would change the color of the broth too much, though. Ah! I can’t even make a guess right now. One day I’m just going to put a spoonful of sugar in his bowl and see if that makes a difference.”

Lu Guang chuckles softly and offers to finish the dishes for her since she cooked the meal. She stays in the apartment a little while longer, chatting with Lu Guang while he washes, and she dries. Afterwards, Lu Gung instructs Qiao Ling to go home before it gets too dark. Qiao Ling agrees, going upstairs to check on Cheng Xiaoshi once more before leaving for the night.

Lu Guang ponders staying downstairs for a few minutes, allowing Cheng Xiaoshi time to get settled into sleep before going up to their room. He has a book he’s been meaning to finish, so Lu Guang goes to the living room and turns on a small lamp, prepared to stay a while.

He only manages to read a few pages before he hears rustling from the top of the stairs, and soon Cheng Xiaoshi is descending them slowly, still wrapped in his quilt.

“I thought you were going to bed,” says Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head petulantly. “I’ve been sleeping all day! I don’t think I can anymore. Watch something with me.”

Lu Guang looks at the novel in his hands, then back to his roommate uncertainly. Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him with hopeful eyes, like he’s a child and Lu Guang is a strict parent deciding whether he’s allowed to stay up past curfew. He really does revert into a younger state when he’s sick.

Lu Guang knows he should tell Cheng Xiaoshi to go back to bed; rest was an important part of getting well again, and even in the dim light he can still see how pale his complexion is. But Cheng Xiaoshi blinks his brown eyes at him once more and Lu Guang feels himself giving in.

“Fine,” Lu Guang says, sounding resigned. He ignores the way his face warms when Cheng Xiaoshi smiles at him and plops down right beside him on the couch. “But only for a short while.” He leans forward to open his laptop on the coffee table and pull up a movie from a few days ago that they never finished. When he leans back on the couch, Cheng Xiaoshi is practically sidled up next to him, legs touching and giant quilt pressing into Lu Guang’s side.

Lu Guang raises an eyebrow, before adding:

“And if you puke on me, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughs and scoots over to the other side of the couch instead. Lu Guang uses his foot to push the small garbage can to Cheng Xiaoshi’s side of the couch as well, though he doesn’t think Cheng Xiaoshi has gotten sick since this morning.

The tense atmosphere from the day has finally fallen from between them, and they watch the movie peacefully. Whenever Lu Guang glances at Cheng Xiaoshi from the corner of his eye, his eyes are bright.

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

Lu Guang jolts awake to the sound of dinging beside his ear.

His alarm. It was just his alarm. He looks around the room in the dim light of the morning sun. His books are still neatly piled on the desk, Cheng Xiaoshi’s clothes from yesterday are still scattered across the floor. He breathes slowly.

He thought this would be easier. He’d only experienced Cheng Xiaoshi being gone from this world for a few hours, so by comparison a world where he softly snores beneath Lu Guang, oblivious to his phone’s own buzzing alarm, should be normal by comparison. But being in this timeline is like wearing a shirt that’s buttoned up wrong. Maybe it’s his body, a year younger, that feels so odd. Maybe it’s this room, this hazy, peaceful atmosphere that’s getting to him. His alarm is still distantly ringing in his ears, and it sounds so much like the sirens from that night. He’s been in this new (old?) life for a month, but nothing has felt comfortable yet.

Lu Guang tries not to dwell on it as he quietly climbs down the ladder of their shared bunkbed and makes his way to the kitchen in his t-shirt and sleep shorts. He’ll make them tea, fix up a simple breakfast, and keep pretending that a month ago his hands weren’t soaked in the hot pulses of Cheng Xiaoshi’s blood. Lu Guang can still feel the crusty sensation of where it dried between his fingers. He washes his hands, taking extra time to scrub them like the phantom blood can finally be burned from his skin’s memory if he uses water that’s hot enough.

When his skin starts to feel sensitive, he finally gives it a rest. He needs to stop doing that. Cheng Xiaoshi is going to notice his scrubbing one of these days and question him about it. He dries his hands on a dishtowel, a fleck of blood still visible only to him on his right knuckle. He won’t wash it again, he won’t wash it again, he won’t—

Where is Cheng Xiaoshi anyway? Shouldn’t he be up by now?

Lu Guang shoves his hands in his pockets and ascends the stairs. He wonders how he should wake him. He doesn’t want to startle him, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s laziness is going to cut breakfast short. Now when they open the studio, he’s going to spend all morning complaining about his hunger, and Lu Guang will spend all morning secretly considering ordering delivery for him, before reminding himself that he never would have done that two years ago to placate him.

Lu Guang’s head is still buzzing with too many colliding thoughts when Cheng Xiaoshi whips open their bedroom door and flies past him, slamming the bathroom door shut louder than necessary.

Lu Guang sighs and paces over the bathroom door, calling “Hurry up in there or we’re going to be—”

That’s about all he gets out before he hears a horrible guttural cough, then the echoing sound of liquid splashing against the toilet water.

Oh.

Lu Guang had forgotten all about this day. This was the first time he had seen Cheng Xiaoshi sick. He’d spent the morning throwing up and the afternoon wasting away on their couch in the living room, whining while Lu Guang tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Cheng Xiaoshi? What’s wrong?” Lu Guang calls through the bathroom door.

More retching. A dumb question, but he’s sure he must have asked something like this the first time around. He opens the bathroom door slowly, peering in to see Cheng Xiaoshi kneeling before their toilet, forehead resting on his forearms as he pants.

“Sick,” Cheng Xiaoshi replies finally, like that wasn’t glaringly obvious.

“Do you think you can stand?” Lu Guang asks.

Cheng Xiaoshi nods, panting for a moment longer before pulling himself to his feet carefully. He leaves the bathroom, and they speak for a moment before Cheng Xiaoshi rushes back to the bathroom a second time. Lu Guang already knows, but says anyway, “You’re in no condition to work today. You should go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t remember Cheng Xiaoshi looking this miserable. His skin is pale and clammy, his bangs hanging limply in front of his eyes as he nods. Lu Guang helps him to his feet this time, allowing himself to keep a hand between Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulders as he walks him to the couch. He leaves for a moment to get him a quilt to cover up with and remembers to grab the wastepaper basket from their room, too, lest Cheng Xiaoshi need to be sick again and not be able to make it to the toilet. Did he continue throwing up the rest of the day? Lu Guang wishes he had committed more of these days to memory.

He passes the quilt over to Cheng Xiaoshi, setting the basket on the floor and lining it with a plastic bag.

“Do you think it was something you ate?”

“How should I know? It’s not like it was written in the bottom of the toilet bowl!” he says indignantly.

Lu Guang never ended up getting sick last time, and they ate the same food yesterday, so he doubts it was food poisoning. Most likely a 24-hour bug that Cheng Xiaoshi was unfortunate to catch. Lu Guang watches Cheng Xiaoshi wrap the quilt around his shoulders, going as far as to pull it over his head as he shivered. Lu Guang doesn’t know how he missed Cheng Xiaoshi’s fever before. He’s obviously freezing right now. Guilt claws at Lu Guang’s throat. He swallows it down.

“It’s probably a stomach virus,” he says curtly.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him pitifully. “Can you cure me, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang internally reminds himself of all the good times he will spend with Cheng Xiaoshi after this. One day of sickness is not the end of the world (Lu Guang already knows what that is), so he shouldn’t feel so terrible about leaving Cheng Xiaoshi alone. It’s what he did last time, so he has to follow the flow of the timeline.

“No. What I can do is go down to open the studio. And you can stay up here and keep your puke away from the customers.”

“You’re leaving me?” Cheng Xiaoshi cries. “In my hour of need, you’re going to abandon me?”

Never, he thinks desperately. But this is not the same as that night.

It’s not that serious, Lu Guang reminds himself. It’s one day of being apart from him. The first time this happened Lu Guang had been secretly pleased to be away from Cheng Xiaoshi’s sickness. He didn’t know how to deal with taking care of someone, and it seemed easier to leave Cheng Xiaoshi to his own devices while Lu Guang managed their responsibilities with the studio. He tries to channel that energy now, putting on a show of rolling his eyes at Cheng Xiaoshi.

“I’m going to be directly underneath you, idiot. Just call me if you need something. Someone has to pay rent this month.”

“Do you think Qiao Ling will come to take care of me?”

“Maybe later,” Lu Guang says, thinking of Qiao Ling and her morale-saving soup showing up later today.

“Later? I’m sick now,” Cheng Xiaoshi laments, trying to sit up without jostling himself.

Suddenly, Cheng Xiaoshi sucks in a sharp breath; Lu Guang’s back straightens at the noise.

It’s too similar to the sounds Cheng Xiaoshi made that night. Lu Guang’s skin pebbles with a sudden chill, and his palms begin to sweat instinctively. He can feel the world begin to spin when Cheng Xiaoshi leans forward and throws up what’s left in him in the garbage can beside him.

The sound and the smell and the memories are too much for him, so Lu Guang turns on his heel and leaves the room.

---

This is not a great time to be having a panic attack. Lu Guang has closed himself in the darkroom and is currently counting backwards from one hundred, telling himself that Cheng Xiaoshi is fine and that today is normal and that no one is gasping for their last breaths right now, blood gurgling from a bullet hole in their chest.

But he’s fucked things up. Lu Guang doesn’t remember how he left Cheng Xiaoshi last time, but it wasn’t that suddenly and it definitely wasn’t mid-puke. So now on top of controlling the PTSD he’s not supposed to have, Lu Guang also must control the panic that he’s fucking up a timeline he’s not supposed to know about. There’s too many fears to keep track of, and the day has hardly even begun. Lu Guang looks down at his shaking hands, then immediately regrets that choice, the red lighting of the darkroom not helping his spiraling mental state at all.

He goes to the bathroom in the studio, splashing water on his face and washing his hands for far longer than necessary before leaving, then heads back up to the apartment to fix things.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him bitterly.

“I—” Lu Guang looks at him guiltily. “I don’t do well around puking.”

“I noticed,” Cheng Xiaoshi says.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Guang says, not knowing what else to say.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s expression softens. Lu Guang could never understand this. How easily forgiven he was.

He grabs the trash can and empties it into the garbage in the kitchen, returning it by Cheng Xiaoshi’s side with a fresh bag in it.

Concern paints Cheng Xiaoshi’s pale features. “Are you sure you aren’t sick too, Lu Guang? You don’t look well.”

Lu Guang remembers his quest to return to the normal timeline before he hits an unchangeable node.

“I’m fine. I should go open the studio. I have my phone, so call if you need anything.”

He heads downstairs, and after a few minutes of preparation, opens the studio. The world won’t stop turning just because of one man’s existential crisis. The morning is mostly quiet, only a few customers coming in to pick up prints from the day before. Lu Guang could spend his free moments developing more photographs in the darkroom, but he can’t bear to go back into the red lighting alone just yet. He spends the morning dusting the studio and wiping down the front windows, completing small, menial tasks while he waits for lunchtime to go check on Cheng Xiaoshi.

He doesn’t call, but Lu Guang doesn’t expect him to, so the morning passes by in relative peace. It reminds Lu Guang of times when Cheng Xiaoshi is on a dive and Lu Guang is left to take care of things while he’s gone. He’s used to this, so he tries not to let it bother him that precious moments he could be spending with Cheng Xiaoshi are being wasted alone.

At lunchtime he closes the studio and returns to the apartment. Cheng Xiaoshi is right where he left him, the quilt pulled up to his chin as he lies on the couch.

“Lu Guaaaaaang…” Cheng Xiaoshi moans, long and desperate. “Everything huuuurts.”

“What hurts?” Lu Guang asks. His body, probably. With the fever and shivering his whole body probably aches. “Is it your stomach still? Your body? Are you going to be sick again?”

Cheng Xiaoshi only grumbles irritably. “You ask too many questions.”

Lu Guang lets out a controlled breath. Ah, there’s the irritation he should have been channeling all morning.

“I’m trying to help you. Be more specific about your symptoms, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“I’m dying, is that specific enough for you?”

Lu Guang’s irritation evaporates, the breath punched out of him. He’s kidding. Lu Guang knows it’s a joke, but it’s not one he likes.

Cheng Xiaoshi ignores whatever expression is on Lu Guang’s face, rolling his eyes back in fake agony. “I’m not gonna make it. Call Qiao Ling. Tell her to come quickly so I can update my will.”

It’s a stupid impulse, but Lu Guang can’t stand it. He needs to touch him. To feel Cheng Xiaoshi, alive, beneath his palms. Lu Guang sits on the edge of the couch, reaching forward towards Cheng Xiaoshi’s face. He opens his eyes suddenly, flinching away from Lu Guang’s touch.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks.

Lu Guang thinks fast. “I’m trying to check your temperature, idiot. We don’t have a thermometer.”

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks a few times, then gingerly leans forward, letting Lu Guang’s cool fingers brush his damp bangs back and rest on his forehead for a moment. Something inside Lu Guang settles at the contact. He’s warm, but not dangerously so. Lu Guang feels his own forehead for comparison with his other hand, and notes that the difference between them is minute.

“A slight fever,” he confirms after a few more seconds. His hand trails down Cheng Xiaoshi’s temple of its own accord before Lu Guang pulls it away reluctantly. Cheng Xiaoshi frowns like he’s disappointed.

Lu Guang stands up. “I’ll see if we have any medicine.”

He leaves the room, mostly to put space between them, and searches the kitchenette for medicine he knows he won’t find. Their kitchen was rarely ever stocked with things they actually needed. It took a long time for Lu Guang to finally begin purchasing useful things for their apartment, like medicine or first aid kits. Right now, all their cupboards are stuffed to the brim with cup noodles and other convenience food. Lu Guang sighs. It will be so long before they can afford nicer groceries.

He returns empty-handed. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t look surprised.

“I don’t know what you expected to find,” he says with a sad snort.

Lu Guang sighs. He needs to get back to the studio. He goes back to the kitchen once more and returns with a glass of water and a dish of plain wonton strips.

“Here. This should be simple enough to digest. Try to eat something and see if you can keep it down. And make sure to drink water. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

If leaving him was hard a few hours ago, now it’s taking a Herculean amount of strength to leave Cheng Xiaoshi behind. Lu Guang has to stand at the front counter of Time Photo Studio and pretend to be a normal person while his mind is still lingering on the feeling of Cheng Xiaoshi’s clammy skin beneath his hand. He could have gotten him a wet cloth to put on his forehead, at least. He debates going back up, but a customer comes in, and Lu Guang’s attention is needed elsewhere.

After they leave, Lu Guang tackles the darkroom, finally. Leaving these photos for another day could mess up the timeline somehow, and it’s imperative that he keeps things the same. The critical node he’s waiting to change hasn’t happened yet.

He tips a photo back and forth in the developer fluid, wondering if he’d crossed a line to reach for Cheng Xiaoshi the way he did earlier. Lu Guang tended to avoid physical contact in the past. It wasn’t something he was used to, before he met Cheng Xiaoshi. Lu Guang had kept firm physical boundaries between himself and others, holding himself at a distance.

But with Cheng Xiaoshi, there was no such thing as distance. If Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t casually leaning into Lu Guang’s personal space, he was slinging an arm around his neck, grabbing his sleeve, nuzzling his face into Lu Guang’s shoulder to get his attention. Lu Guang couldn’t fathom that other people could be this physical, and it always confounded him. It didn’t take long in their friendship for Lu Guang to give up on pushing Cheng Xiaoshi away. It was clear he wasn’t ever going to stop invading Lu Guang’s space, and after a while it stopped feeling invasive, truthfully.

But Lu Guang had never been the type to initiate contact. That was one of the toughest parts of being in this timeline, if he was being honest.

---

Lu Guang had realized just how difficult restraining himself could be on his first day in this timeline.

He had only had a few hours to think about it. After declaring Cheng Xiaoshi dead, the police officers had dragged Lu Guang back to the station to question him. Despite Captain Xiao’s patience with him, they could barely get a word out of him, much less a helpful statement. They wanted specifics, any clues to help them with the serial killer case, but Lu Guang could barely breathe, staring at his shaking hands in the bright fluorescent light of the station. Lu Guang didn’t care about answers, he only cared about fixing things.

After a few hours, an officer drove him back to the studio. Lu Guang bounded upstairs, his mind already made up. He would save Cheng Xiaoshi if it was the last thing he did.

He sat down at their shared desk, a picture he took from one year ago lying before him. He could have waited longer to make the decision, but waiting was not going to bring Cheng Xiaoshi back. This might.

Clap!

Lu Guang blinked. The bleak shadows of their bedroom were replaced instantly with streaks of afternoon sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the living room. Lu Guang lowered the phone in his hands, looking at the photo of a small slip of paper resting on his knee—a fortune from a fortune cookie.

“Well?”

The sound of his voice, bright and curious, made Lu Guang flinch.

“What does it say, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang looked up.

And there he was. Cheng Xiaoshi, staring at him, breathing and alive and wearing his pristine varsity jacket, un-stained by blood. He looked at Lu Guang expectantly, and Lu Guang threw himself at him.

Barely able to contain his emotions, Lu Guang crashed into Cheng Xiaoshi and pulled him into a breathtaking embrace, almost knocking the takeout from his hands.

“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi had shouted in surprise, not knowing what else to say with the sudden attack of affection.

Lu Guang held tight to Cheng Xiaoshi, feeling his hair tickle his cheek and breathing in his scent. He’d been dead. Just hours before. The police were mid-investigation with a serial killer on the loose, and Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang had gotten too close. Cheng Xiaoshi was unexpectedly killed, dying as he lay in Lu Guang’s arms. He could still hear Cheng Xiaoshi’s stuttering gasps as the blood gurgled out of the wound in his chest. Lu Guang’s dry palms still felt slick with the sensation of warm blood.

Lu Guang was so grateful for another chance, another moment with Cheng Xiaoshi. He almost lost himself in the sensation of feeling him, warm and safe and alive in his arms.

But then the second rule of diving flashed through his head like lightning.

Change nothing.

This was his first lesson.

“What’s wrong, Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked him.

Lu Guang stepped away suddenly, still marveling at the sound of Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice and reeling for an excuse. He awkwardly returned to his chair and picked up the piece of paper he was taking a picture of when he’d reinhabited the past.

“My fortune,” he said stiffly. “It told me to hug a treasured friend.”

Cheng Xiaoshi beamed at his response. “Does it bring good luck?”

“Sure,” Lu Guang said, trying to recover when everything about Cheng Xiaoshi’s smile made him want to cry. It worked. He’d dove back in time and would find a way to fix everything. He’d find a way to make it up to Cheng Xiaoshi for losing him before.

But the damage to the timeline had already been done. The rest of the day Cheng Xiaoshi kept bringing it up.

“Don’t you think you should let your treasured friend handle that invoice for you?”

“C’mon, Lu Guang! Try the crane. I’m here with you to bring you good fortune after all.”

Lu Guang couldn’t escape it. One misstep, and he’d already altered the timeline. He’d never understood why following directions during a dive was so hard for Cheng Xiaoshi, but it was becoming clearer now.

It wasn’t until they were in their apartment that night, Qiao Ling meeting them to discuss a new client, that things shifted back to normal.

Qiao Ling stood in the living room, thumbing through posts on her phone, when Cheng Xiaoshi brought it up.

“Hey Qiao Ling, did you know that I’m Lu Guang’s treasured friend?” he asked, pointing to leftover fortune cookies. Lu Guang had trashed the piece of paper from before, not letting Cheng Xiaoshi read the message on it that contradicted his odd behavior. “I’ve been bringing him good fortune all day!” he said proudly.

Qiao Ling didn’t look from up from the phone she was scrolling through, which didn’t have its usual bunny case.

“Hey, Lu Guang,” she said, unimpressed, “could you tell your lucky charm that if he stopped spending money on mobile gatcha games and take-out he might be able to afford his monthly rent?”

“Hey, that’s my phone!” Cheng Xiaoshi shouted, pushing past Lu Guang to fight Qiao Ling for his cell phone. His reach was longer, so after a second of wrestling it was back in his hands. “How did you even unlock it?”

Qiao Ling sneered. “If you’re foolish enough to make your password your birthday then you deserved it. Look, I bet Lu Guang’s password is harder to crack. He’s younger than you but still wiser. Right, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang blinked, suddenly remembering this conversation from the first time they had it. His password was also his birthday.

Cheng Xiaoshi burst into laughter, knowing Lu Guang’s password to be just as easy as his, and Lu Guang fumbled with his settings, slinking shamefully over to the other side of the room to change it out of their line of sight, like he had years ago. He silently thanked Qiao Ling for returning the conversation back to the normal flow of the timeline. He needed to remember not to slip up like he did today. There was a larger node he was aiming to change, and he couldn’t falter in the early stages.

He looked down at his phone’s password settings and gave himself a reminder.

“Are you going to tell me your new one?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked, throwing his arm over Lu Guang’s shoulder and leaning into his personal space.

There it was again. Lu Guang’s heartbeat tripled at the sensation of Cheng Xiaoshi so close to him. Lu Guang resisted the urge to pull Cheng Xiaoshi in closer, to revel in the sound of his breathing and the feeling of his pulse. If the old Lu Guang didn’t do those things, he couldn’t do them either.

If Lu Guang was a little slower in pushing him away, well. That was neither here nor there.

---

Lu Guang shakes his head at the memory as he pins the photos on the line to dry and leaves the darkroom. The sun is dipping behind the buildings across the street, so it must be close to closing time. Lu Guang looks at his watch. Any minute now, Qiao Ling will be bursting through the studio door to make Cheng Xiaoshi her magical soup, reviving him from his illness and returning the vitality to him. Lu Guang checks the register to make sure the till is correctly counted, glancing at the front door every few minutes.

After a while it begins to unnerve him. Was she this late last time? Lu Guang could swear she came around closing time. Lu Guang opens his phone to check for messages from her, swiping over to his Recent Calls menu to ask where she is.

Lu Guang’s blood congeals in his veins.

His last few Outgoing Calls are all to Cheng Xiaoshi, from days ago. Lu Guang hasn’t spoken with Qiao Ling today.

If he hasn’t called Qiao Ling, that means she doesn’t even know Cheng Xiaoshi is sick. If she doesn’t know he’s sick, she is unaware that she is supposed to urgently come to the studio. If she doesn’t come quickly, she won’t have time to make Cheng Xiaoshi her replicated recipe. If she doesn’t make the soup, the timeline—

Lu Guang puts his hands to his head, his fingers gripping the roots of his hair as he pulls in frustration.

This can’t be happening. Just one slip up, and everything could fall apart. What if eating Qiao Ling’s soup was a critical node? Lu Guang’s painstaking care of keeping this timeline the same will all be undone because he forgot to make a single phone call.

Lu Guang tries to ignore the tremor in his hands as he dials Qiao Ling’s number.

“He’s sick?” Qiao Ling asks him. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me sooner. I could have taken care of him so you could keep running the studio.”

“I still opened today. Cheng Xiaoshi is upstairs.”

“You left him alone?” she asks. There’s a little too much emotion packed into the question for Lu Guang to overlook.

“Should I not have?”

Qiao Ling hesitates. “No, it’s—it’s fine…he’s just sensitive about being left alone. You know.”

You know.

She leaves the implication dangling before him. Lu Guang wants to slap himself. He did know. And now this is the second time he’s left Cheng Xiaoshi by himself when he was feeling vulnerable. Lu Guang burns with shame.

“He’s been asking for you,” Lu Guang tells her, feeling defeated. “Is there any chance you could stop by?”

“Probably not tonight,” she says. Lu Guang’s heart sinks even further. “There’s an event going on downtown. All the trains are behind schedule, and it will be impossible to hail a cab in the crowd. You said he was asking for me? He probably just wants—well, it doesn’t matter now. Tell him I can stop by tomorrow if he’s still feeling unwell, okay?”

Their phone call ends shortly afterwards. Lu Guang stares out the window of the studio, watching the sky become streaked in pinks and purples. It’s getting late. He supposes there’s nothing else to do but to face Cheng Xiaoshi. He doubts there’s any way to recover the timeline now. All he can hope for is that today’s missteps didn’t change any critical nodes for the future.

Lu Guang’s limbs feel heavy as he climbs the stairs, every changed minute weighing down his body as he goes to check on his friend. Cheng Xiaoshi is exactly where Lu Guang left him, though now he has an arm thrown over his eyes, trying to block out the rays of the setting sun as they beam in through the windows of the sunroom.

“Hey.” Lu Guang sits in the chair beside the couch.

Cheng Xiaoshi pulls his arm away from his pale face. His eyebrows draw up in concern. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Lu Guang can’t even fathom what his expression must look like right now. “Yeah, just tired.”

Even though he’s ill, Cheng Xiaoshi still manages to grin. “Looks like someone is finally realizing how much work I do in the studio. And you say I don’t pull my own weight.”

Lu Guang tries for a smile, though he doesn’t think he quite manages it. “You’re right. Today was hard without you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cheng Xiaoshi sits up gingerly. “If you’re sick too, you should say something.” His concern almost cheers Lu Guang up, but then he continues, “When Qiao Ling gets here, you can ask her for some—”

“Qiao Ling isn’t coming.”

He keeps his eyes trained on his lap, so he doesn’t have to see Cheng Xiaoshi’s disappointed expression.

Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again. The longer Lu Guang exists in this timeline, the more he wonders if his mission is even possible. Will living in the past really allow Lu Guang to eventually change Cheng Xiaoshi’s future? Or is Cheng Xiaoshi existing on borrowed time? He thinks of today’s mistakes, piling up on one another, how one misstep can change the entire course of the future, and feels dizzy.

He jumps a bit when the feeling of cool glass brushes against his knuckles. Cheng Xiaoshi is pushing a glass of water into his hand.

“Drink.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s stern command is so absolute that Lu Guang actually obeys, taking a sip of the water, which turns into a gulp, which turns to him finishing the glass.

Cheng Xiaoshi pushes the plate of wonton strips across the table to Lu Guang, who delicately takes one and crunches down on it.

“Better?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks.

Lu Guang nods. The world has righted itself a little, and the shining edges of his vision have receded back to normalcy. He looks down at the empty glass in his hand, the dish on the table. Recognition hits him.

“I left these out for you,” Lu Guang accuses.

Cheng Xiaoshi shrugs, the blanket slipping from his shoulder a little. “You looked like you needed them more.”

Lu Guang sighs. “You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

He shrugs again. “Not hungry.”

Lu Guang thinks of the last time he lived this day, and the way Cheng Xiaoshi devoured his meal. He doesn’t believe him.

“It’s just that…normally, when I’m sick—” Cheng Xiaoshi cuts himself off, like he doesn’t want to say it and make Lu Guang feel worse.

Lu Guang finishes his thought for him. “Qiao Ling normally cooks for you, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not just that. It’s stupid, really,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s a tradition she started when we were kids. She tries to recreate a dish my mom made for me when I was little.”

Even after years of knowing him, Lu Guang can’t remember Cheng Xiaoshi ever telling him this story himself. Should Lu Guang have thought to ask?

“What dish?” he asks carefully.

“Just soup,” he says, sounding shy. “I guess when I was little it was difficult getting me to eat nutritious foods. When I was sick my mom would make this incredible soup that had a ton of nutritional value, but somehow didn’t taste bad! It was like she covered up the taste of every awful vegetable somehow.” Cheng Xiaoshi looks down, fiddling with the edge of his quilt. “I never really questioned how she made all those healthy things taste so good. Special mom powers, I guess.”

Now Lu Guang remembers why he never asked for this story. He never liked this, hearing fond memories about Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents. He’d never tell him, but Lu Guang hates them. He hates how they abandoned their son and constantly villainizes them in his head whenever Cheng Xiaoshi brings them up.

He also hates them because he can’t stand the way Cheng Xiaoshi looks after talking about them. The sad, distant look in his eyes as his gaze trails back to the door, like part of him is always waiting for them to return through it.

Lu Guang stands suddenly, startling Cheng Xiaoshi. “What was in this soup?”

“Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang rifles through a drawer in their kitchenette, locating a piece of scrap paper. “What were the ingredients?”

Cheng Xiaoshi looks dumbstruck, still not entirely sure what Lu Guang’s intent is. “I’m not sure. Qiao Ling has been trying to recreate it for years.”

“Then tell me the ingredients you know to be correct. I’ll try to make it.”

“You don’t know how to cook!” Cheng Xiaoshi says incredulously. “And you definitely don’t know how to make soup.”

Lu Guang does. A year from now Cheng Xiaoshi will make him a bowl of noodles so lumpy and overcooked that Lu Guang will actually learn to cook just to spite him and make a better bowl. He knows enough to get by, not that Cheng Xiaoshi would know that right now.

“I’ve seen cooking shows,” he responds flippantly, grabbing his wallet from the table and putting it in his back pocket. “I’ll figure it out. Now, what ingredients can you remember?”

Cheng Xiaoshi rattles off a few ingredients absently, a look of disbelief on his face as Lu Guang jots them down on his paper. Lu Guang mentally tacks on a few other ingredients, remembering that they were in Qiao Ling’s soup when she made it for them originally. He wishes he could remember everything on her scribbled over recipe sheet, but this will have to do for now.

Lu Guang looks at the ingredients and nods. He makes it all the way to the stairs before stopping short. He turns to Cheng Xiaoshi, quilt still loosely wrapped around his shoulders and bewildered expression still plastered on his pale face.

“Will you be fine on your own while I go to the market?” he asks seriously.

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks at the question.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Lu Guang nods. “Call if you need anything.”

---

The trip to the market is quick. Lu Guang grabs herbs, spices, and fresh vegetables— foods that until now would have been considered a luxury for him and Cheng Xiaoshi. If there’s a possibility it could go in a healing soup, Lu Guang adds it to his basket. He pays for it all with little concern for the few bills remaining in his wallet and hurries back to the studio.

Lu Guang paces down the road, lined with shadows now that the sun has almost fully set, with a paper bag in his arms full of ingredients he only kind of knows how to cook. He enters the studio and goes straight upstairs to Cheng Xiaoshi, who must have watched him walk up the road from the window, clammy handprint still on the glass behind him as he turns to look at Lu Guang.

Lu Guang wonders if his own expression matches the unsure one on Cheng Xiaoshi’s face.

“Well,” he starts uncomfortably. He looks down at the ingredients in the bag, which look much more intimidating now that he’s standing before Cheng Xiaoshi with them. He clears his throat delicately. “I’m going to get started.

“Let me help you—” Cheng Xiaoshi starts, trying to stand. He blinks rapidly and falls back to the couch, too lightheaded from not eating all day.

Lu Guang fills another glass of water and takes the added step to put it directly in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand this time, the same way Cheng Xiaoshi did earlier with him. He doesn’t speak until he sees Cheng Xiaoshi take a tiny, tentative sip.

“You should be resting,” Lu Guang says. “Let me do this for you.”

The flush in cheeks probably has more to do with the illness than anything, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s expression is swirl of emotions as he relents, leaning back into the couch with a quiet “okay.”

Lu Guang returns to the kitchenette with his bag of spoils. He’d sat with Qiao Ling for the entire time that she made her healing soup the last time, so it shouldn’t be that hard to recreate a facsimile, right? Simmer some broth, chop a few vegetables, do something with herbs, how difficult could it be?

He puts their one large pot on top of their hot plate and dumps in a container’s worth of store-bought chicken bone broth. He turns on the hot plate. Step one complete.

“You should have the herbs in there already,” Lu Guang hears an annoying voice call from behind him.

He looks over his shoulder at a snuggled-up Cheng Xiaoshi, eyes closed and breathing too evenly for someone who was awake but two minutes ago.

Grumbling under his breath, Lu Guang turns off the heat and pulls out the tiny cutting board they have, ripping a few sprigs of each herb off their stems. He sets them on the board, knife hovering over them, but hesitates. Did Qiao Ling chop these?

“She normally puts them in whole.”

Lu Guang rolls his eyes and puts the knife down, reaching over the pot with his handful of herbs.

“In a bag.”

His hand stills.

“Made of cheesecloth.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi!”

Now Lu Guang is glaring over his shoulder. Cheng Xiaoshi smirks in his “sleep.”

It goes on like that for a while, with Lu Guang completing a handful of steps before a certain sleeping patient’s voice drifts from behind him with some unsolicited advice. Eventually Lu Guang gives up on pretenses and pulls a chair up to the kitchenette and glares at it pointedly until Cheng Xiaoshi happily takes a seat. Lu Guang only lets him stay after he finishes his whole glass of water.

But it’s…nice. Neither of them have ever been good cooks. And it won’t be months until they’ve built up a strong enough reputation from diving to earn them some real money for groceries. But it reminds Lu Guang of a time not that long ago, a time that hasn’t yet happened, where he and Cheng Xiaoshi would stand in their tiny kitchenette, shoulder to shoulder, as they argued about how much bean paste to put in their mapo tofu. Emotion still claws at his throat when he thinks of it, of a Cheng Xiaoshi older than the one before him (though not much more mature) whose days were unknowingly numbered. Lu Guang stops cooking twice to scrub his hands in the sink at the thought of it.

“It’s no wonder you never get sick, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi says as he watches Lu Guang paw at the edge of the sink for their bar of soap. “Surgeons probably wash their hands less often than you.”

Lu Guang pauses, looking at the red, sudsy skin on his hands. He swallows and rinses them off.

The whole cooking process takes about an hour. Lu Guang wonders if he should let it cook longer, but with how famished Cheng Xiaoshi looks after a day of not eating, he’s not sure he wants to wait any longer.

“It’s probably done,” he says, trying to sound sure of himself as he turns off the heat. He looks over at his scrap sheet once more, wondering what ingredients from Qiao Ling’s paper he might have missed in preparing this dish. With Chinese yams and codonopsis root, it should at least help Cheng Xiaoshi’s digestion, thought Lu Guang can’t speak for the taste. He’s about to start rooting through their kitchenette for a clean bowl when a memory hits him. Qiao Ling’s blocky handwriting, a word with several question marks after it. She and Lu Guang giggling at Cheng Xiaoshi’s expense.

It probably won’t make a difference, but before Cheng Xiaoshi can look, Lu Guang grabs their jar of honey that they use for tea and tips it over the pot, dumping a small glob in.

He stirs the soup a few times for it to dissolve, then pulls out a bowl and ladles a large helping of soup into it before pushing it in front of Cheng Xiaoshi.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at it, then back to Lu Guang, eyebrows pinched up.

“Aren’t you going to pour yourself some? We’re supposed to eat it together.”

Lu Guang could argue that this is Cheng Xiaoshi’s meal. He’s the sick one here. He’s the one who hasn’t eaten all day. But he can’t keep his composure with Cheng Xiaoshi’s brown eyes shining at him like that. Maybe it’s some sort of tradition he and Qiao Ling have. Lu Guang relents and pours a second, albeit less full, bowl.

“Happy?” he asks.

Judging by Cheng Xiaoshi’s smile, he must be. He finally begins eating his soup after that, so Lu Guang takes it as a victory.

He looks down at his own bowl. He has to admit, he is curious. He scoops up a spoonful, trying to get as many bits of vegetable as possible, and eats it. Warmth flows through his chest, same as before, with the earthy flavors of the vegetables complimenting the chicken broth. Even some of the more complex flavors of the traditional Chinese herbs are more muted, making them a little less bitter than last time. It’s not a perfect replication, but hopefully Cheng Xiaoshi enjoys the attempt all the same.

Lu Guang looks up from his bowl to ask Cheng Xiaoshi what he thinks, but the sight of him has Lu Guang stopping in his tracks.

He’s crying.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?” Lu Guang says, unable to disguise how worried he sounds.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes squeeze shut as hot tears drip down his cheeks. He opens them slowly and tries to blink them away, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand as he takes another careful bite. But the second he swallows, more tears fall.

“How did you do this?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, voice thick.

“You can stop if you don’t like it—” Lu Guang tries to tell him.

Cheng Xiaoshi sniffs a little. “It tastes like my mother’s.”

Lu Guang looks down at his bowl and freezes.

This wasn’t a part of the plan.

He was supposed to recreate Qiao Ling’s attempt at this soup, not actually try to make his mother’s recipe. It’s Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling’s tradition, and now Lu Guang has usurped it and through blind, hasty grocery shopping and an impulsive addition managed to find a combination of ingredients that satisfied Cheng Xiaoshi. Is this going to mess up the timeline? Has Lu Guang somehow tripped up in an even greater way than before, unable to stop himself from smashing this timeline into ruin before he can attempt to find the correct node that will save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future?

He can feel himself falling into another spiral, but when he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi, the ball of anxiety in his gut unravels minutely.

While Lu Guang has been wrestling with another panic attack, Cheng Xiaoshi’s face has broken into a radiant smile. Tears still shimmer at the edges of his eyes as he takes bite after reverent bite, but the joy on his face is enough to stop Lu Guang from losing all composure.

Lu Guang takes another sip of the soup. A soup that tastes like home to Cheng Xiaoshi. When he is sick and miserable, when he craves warmth and care, this is the dish that he longs for. A soup that reminds him of his mother’s love, no matter how distant a memory it is to him now. A dish that Qiao Ling has spent almost a decade trying to make, purely so she could help Cheng Xiaoshi feel precisely like this.

Because what even is the point of all of this if not to make Cheng Xiaoshi happy?

He prays that the timeline will favor him in this one moment, because when he looks at the joy on Cheng Xiaoshi’s face, Lu Guang can’t find any regret left in him.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks to Lu Guang and clears his throat a little.

“You better eat your soup before it gets cold. If you’re not careful, I might eat your bowl too.”

Lu Guang wraps a hand around his bowl protectively, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s laughter chases away all his doubt.

---

“Aghh!! I can’t believe you spilled broth all over it! Lu Guang, I’ve not known you to be so clumsy.”

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang both look at the soaked sheet of paper, the ink already starting to blot.

“You don’t happen to remember the quantities of all the ingredients you used, do you?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks Lu Guang.

Lu Guang looks at the paper forlornly. “I barely remember what I bought. I was picking through the vegetable section at the market at random.”

There’s barely enough soup in the pot for another full bowl (Cheng Xiaoshi devoured two of them, though Lu Guang forced him to eat slowly), and most of the vegetables had already been eaten, so there isn’t much evidence left for them to pick through.

While the universe seemed to favor Lu Guang in giving him such a convenient out, Lu Guang can’t help but pity Cheng Xiaoshi. He wonders if their destroyed ingredient list will fill him with heartbreak, now that his mother’s healing soup recipe has been washed away.

But Cheng Xiaoshi picks up the remains of the list, smiling good naturedly.

“Ah, it’s alright. I’m sure Qiao Ling still wants to try and recreate the recipe anyway. It would make her sad to discover that you’re such a cooking prodigy on your first try.” He balls up the wet paper and throws it away. “Let’s keep today between us, alright?”

“Are you sure?” Lu Guang asks.

Cheng Xiaoshi nods, still looking happier than he’s been all day. Lu Guang’s heartbeat quickens every time he looks at him. It’s hard to believe the change in Cheng Xiaoshi after just one meal. It could just be that after a full day of not eating, his revitalization has more to do with a full stomach than anything. Or perhaps the ingredients in the soup truly are medicinal. But color has returned to Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheeks once more, and he’s moving with an ease that he hasn’t had since yesterday.

Lu Guang gathers their bowls, washing them in the sink and leaving them on a dishtowel to dry. He sees Cheng Xiaoshi return to the couch instead of going upstairs.

“You should probably go to bed,” Lu Guang tells him, prioritizing responsibility.

“I’ve been sleeping all day!” Cheng Xiaoshi responds indignantly. “Come watch something with me.”

Lu Guang weighs the options of arguing with Cheng Xiaoshi versus doing what he wants. When he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi’s pouting expression, Lu Guang finds himself giving in, yet again. He tells himself it’s only because Cheng Xiaoshi is sick.

“Fine.”

Lu Guang takes out his laptop and pulls up a movie from the other day that they didn’t finish watching. As he’s adjusting the volume on his speakers, Cheng Xiaoshi speaks.

“Hey, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang turns to face him. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” Cheng Xiaoshi looks at his lap shyly. “For today.”

The earnest admission stops Lu Guang short.

Every moment from today has been one continuous misstep after another. The stress, the anguish, the panic from it all was enough to take years off Lu Guang’s life. Lu Guang has known from the start that his mission to save Cheng Xiaoshi would be difficult, but days like today truly made him question if saving Cheng Xiaoshi was even possible. Lu Guang knows what the future looks like, but he’s more unsure of it than he’s ever been. Keeping the timeline the same long enough to find the critical node that will save Cheng Xiaoshi’s life might be a dream so farfetched that it might not even be worth attempting.

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite.

Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping.

Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today.

Maybe that is enough.

Lu Guang offers Cheng Xiaoshi a nod, unable to help how bashful he feels as well. If he opened his mouth to respond, he worries that something far more revealing might tumble out of him. Something about promising to always care for him, to always keep him safe. He settles on a small dip of his chin and hopes it conveys what words can’t.

It only takes a moment longer to set up the movie. Afterwards, Lu Guang sits on his side of the couch. Cheng Xiaoshi sidles up next to him, so close the quilt he’s wrapped in presses into Lu Guang’s side.

Lu Guang pointedly does not look into his eyes when he asks, “Are you feeling well, now?”

“Yes,” Cheng Xiaoshi replies happily.

“And you’re not going to throw up on me?”

“Of course not!”

Lu Guang nods to himself. Then he leans forward to press ‘play.’

He does not tell Cheng Xiaoshi to move. Timeline be damned.

#link click #shi guang dai li ren #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #shiguang #qiao ling #link click fic #my writing

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mxsonxmountx · 1 year

Text

MM x They Don’t Know About Us

Word count: 1143

Requested: Yes/No

Requests: Open/Close

Bold: Mason

Italics: you

-----

They don’t know about the things we do, they don’t know about the I love you

All your childhood you was told to not to date Mason because of his behavior and attitude to women, although he was always very kind towards you, when he came to over people it was always different. He would bad mouth them, sleep with a different girl every night. You always told yourself that you would see past that but others couldn’t. Especially the Chelsea boys. The Chelsea boys to you wasn’t just friends, they were also brothers to you. You’ve known them for a while and they treated you like one of their own. It was another daily trip up to Cobham for you to go and collect Mason. Kepa and Reece both noticed you first and didn’t hesitate to come over to your car and have a quick chat to you about the train session and of course to your surprise, Mason.

“Boys, I can promise you that he’s not like that anymore. He’s a changed man. I swear. I know we’ve said this before, but I’m sure of it this time round”. The way Kepa looked you to say he knows something is doing on, but he never dared to say it to you. Minutes after, Mason headed over to your car and hoped in the front. Desperately wanting to kiss you but unable to because of Kepa and Reece still talking to you.

“Right boys, we better go. See you in the morning” “bye boys, be safe”

“What did they want?” “Nothing much, just told me how you still haven’t changed, but I told them that you have. Hopefully they won’t suspect anything Mase. It’s the last thing we need.” “They won’t suspect nothing. They don’t know about us. It’s our little secret.”

Although since you’ve been dating Mason, he’s been a whole new person, being early for training, forever treating you right, manners have improved massively which his family was impressed by. You’d stay at masons every other night so none of the lads would click on, yeah you’d be there sometimes when they was round but nothing more.

“I love you, you know that right?” “I love you too Mase”

-----

They don’t know how special you are

Saturday night. Date night. He’s booked a private area in the back of a restaurant where he begged nobody could see him and especially you. Although neither of you was ready to tell everyone, neither of you wanted the paps to find out first, you’ve done so well to keep it quite now and nothing was going to ruin it.

“This is lovely Mase, thank you” “only the best for my girl”

You both posted a picture of the night both with serval hour’s gaps apart and both different picture so nobody would click on. Both of you hated doing it, but you knew it was for the best.

Sunday morning. Breakfast in bed. Bed hair and sleeping in his shirt. One of masons favourite looks on you and he would tell the world then if he could but he didn’t.

“Breakfast in bed? What’s this in aid of?” “Nothing? I wanted to impress you and maybe spend a little time with you, before you have to go” “oh Mase, we can always spend time together… always. Plus a little birdie told me there’s a Chelsea end of season ball coming up soon…” “About that… I want you to come, but I hate hiding you…” He was right. You knew about the part from Reece, he messaged you about it. Mason told you weeks before, the only way you’d go with him was if you both came out about your relationship, but you second guessed everything. All the hate, negative comments, the abuse that Mason would get and you just couldn’t do it... yet “maybe if we go as friends, nobody would know?” “that’s what I’m thinking, going to buy you the most prettiest dress, pay for you make up to get done and hair. They don’t know how special you are to me” “I’m the luckiest of them all, lucky to have you. I don’t need you to buy me anything, don’t want them to think I’m only with you for the money” “I want to buy it for you… anyway eat your breakfast because there’s a load of washing up for you to wash up” Mason laughed, he understands where you’re coming from with everything, but he knows he will protect you at all costs.

-----

I want to tell the world that you’re mine

A month later it was time for the end of season party, your royal blue dress arrived a few weeks ago. You argued with mason to tell him not to buy it for you but he couldn’t help himself, you had all your hair done in the afternoon and you did your make up yourself in the evening a few hours before you had to both leave. Mason looked outstanding as per usual. Tonight was maybe the only night that you was looking forward too but also dreading considering none of his team mates knew that you and him was together. A car was picking yourself, Mason, Ben and his plus one up around 7:45pm.

“Not too sure how I’m supposed to keep my hand off you tonight. You look too good” “I can most certainly same the same about you. Ben and his lady are coming here at 7:30. Thought we could get some picture of us 4 just together?” “Oh erm yeah that’s fine. He’ll be the first to know right?” “Yeah but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you here before and he’s probably already put one and one together. So what’s the point of hiding my princess” “I don’t want to be hidden anymore, I’m ready and prepared what everyone will throw at me” and with that there was a knock at the door and it was Ben and his lady. You had to admit that she looked absolutely beautiful. “Are you and Mase, you know? Official?” “We are Ben, why do you think I’ve been here so often... im surprised he never told you boys in training” you chuckled at bit but it was more of a nervous laugh if anything “oh no he never. We all had our own idea but we all left it until you or Mase said something” You got pictures together, minutes before the car arrived to take you to the party. “You’re going to be fine, I promise” “I know I will, I have you beside me” your nerves gradually went and before you all arrived you was calm.

“Boys, this is my girlfriend” “hello boys” “Reece bro you owe me money, I told you they was dating” “wait Kepa and Reece had a bet on us both?!”

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mvmnbnv · 12 days

Note

Oh my goodness THANK YOU!!! I just saw your post about Cait, and I couldn’t have said it better myself! I like Cait’s character just fine, but I don’t like how (some) Caitlyn stans turn into dick riders who put words in your mouth when you even SUGGEST that she’s gonna be anything less than stellar in season two!

We literally saw her use her privilege all throughout season one! Her parents got her fired from the Enforcers! Which means she’s technically a criminal! But thanks to her Piltie status, her facing any meaningful consequences for any of her actions, no matter how well intentioned, is never even a question. It’s not “hate” or “comparing her to a dictator” to say that Caitlyn’s grief will turn her into the worst version of herself. There are crazy stans on both sides(and I say this as a Jinx stan) but certain Caitlyn stans need to learn that there’s a difference between criticism of their faves and hate. 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

ong lol, and my position honestly comes from my stance as a vi stan, the way i see people act like Vi will be to blame for them falling out next season while simultaneously expecting Cait to be a cunt is so werid to me...like you expect and even want Cait to be an asshole but can't...fathom her doing anything that would make her an asshole??? its like they want their cake of cait being a cunt while eating up her not changing at all... hell people are already saying vi will "betray" her like its a fact. as if cait couldnt do anything to sever the relatiosnship while grieving...it has to be all vi's fault, and the betrayal in question is vi possibly not wanting her to kill her little sister...they really cant see cait doing any wrong to the point of calling vi a traitor for the crime of possibly not being able to hurt her own blood.

even last szn ppl irritated me with their predictions about how she'd treat jinx, acting like she'd be merciful with the mf that killed her mom. like what gives them that impression, did they miss the bit where she was ready to blow jinxs head off right in front of vi at that tea party?? even trying to convince vi she was too far gone?? shes definitely out for blood this szn

#arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn arcane

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 1 month

Text

Going out for tea with Ms. Marraine

Based on the tags @part-sadist left on my previous Ruthleen post, here is the Reader (Yuu) joining their teacher for tea. (I wrote this really quick so I apologize if it's not the best lol ♡)

Also (since I know you asked what she taught in your tags too) she's apart of the school's magic department, and teaches Ancient Curses!

Please note that this is platonic!

When you went to Ms. Marraine's office one day, offering to have tea with her, you were expecting to stay in her office (or at least, on campus). The last thing you expected was for her to take you out, bringing you to a nice cafe she liked to visit on Sage's Island.

She asked what you wanted once you got there, insisting on paying and refusing to take no for an answer. She tells you to choose a table while she paid, meeting you there after the order was placed.

Her expression hadn't changed since you asked, cold and unmoving as she sat across from you. She made small talk as you waited, asking how were you and how your classes were going. It reminded you of a parental figure, looking out for you.

Soon the server arrived and left your drinks, including some desserts you didn't order. You look at the table in confusion before looking to Ruthleen, one of her eyebrows raising as she gestures to the sweets.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety. Eat as much as you desire." she says, focusing her attention on her tea. You were surprised by the amount of sugar she was putting in it, stopping at around 6 cubes.

She must have a sweet tooth, you thought, watching a small smile come to her face as she sipped her tea. She takes one of the desserts, a chocolate eclair, and sets it in front of herself. When she realizes you haven't taken anything yet, she starts placing desserts in front of you, picking one's she thinks you'll like.

"Come, don't be shy. I'm sure one of these will suit your tastes"

You look at the desserts she selected, pleasantly surprised by her choices. They were all desserts you liked, leaving you to silently wonder if she knew somehow. You thank her before digging in, enjoying the sweet treats.

As you eat you notice her attention going elsewhere, words trailing off as she looks over her shoulder.

"Excuse me" she says, standing up slowly. You watch as she walks across the room, to where a lone woman sat with her head down. She speaks to the woman quietly, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. You didn't even notice the woman was crying until she looked up, making you wonder if she was alright.

Ruthleen takes napkins, doing her best to clean the woman's face and wipe away her tears. It reminds you of something a mother would do, her expression still cold yet her touch gentle, her words said with care.

After a moment she leads the woman to the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later with her hair and makeup redone.

Wordlessly she returns to your table, sitting across from you as if nothing happened. You notice the woman sitting back at her own table, no longer in tears. With her hair and makeup redone she looked like she was going on a date, making you wonder if that was what brought her to tears in the first place.

"If you're going to cancel on someone, the least you can do is let them know." she says with distaste, answering your silent question.

"And..." she continues, turning away from you for a moment.

"You may not understand love, and it may not understand you, but in the Eye of The Beholder, there's someone that will love you"

She turns back once she finishes, her eyes flashing for a moment. You could have swore you felt a strong magical presence, but it was gone as soon as it came, making you wonder if it even happened.

She smiles softly as she sips her tea, continuing where she left off in your conversation. Back where the woman sat, a server bumps into her by accident, leading them to almost drop their tray. The two of them laugh and begin talking, seeming to hit it off. As you were leaving, you notice the server sitting at her table, joining her while on their break.

"People don't usually wish for my company, so I thank you for your offer. It was nice having tea with you, Name." she says, leading you back to Night Raven.

"Be sure to study now, and take care of yourself. They're calling for rain tomorrow too, so don't forget an umbrella." ♡

People don't usually seek her company, so if someone offered to have tea with her, she wasn't just gonna have tea. She likes to go all out lol ♡ (as a subtle way to show her gratitude)

Tagging: @midnightmah07, @skriblee-ksk, @crystallizsch, @offorestsongs, @cheerleaderman

@0honeybones0

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst oc #♡.ruthleen #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #platonic

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bcolfanfic · 4 months

Note

hi! argue for the agents prompts for ev and helen because i love helen and i’m so curious to what their dynamic looks like in the yv au

this is kinda slice of life from larger plot line @swifty-fox and i have been developing. abusive bf never got a name lmfao we have been calling him "fuckface" exclusively but. just so no one is confused it's *not* nash. this takes place post-afghanistan war being over and him being dead. ev stayed in the military and does flight instruction at a base in west va around where helen lives (where nash was from, and in this au her too) which is how they got connected and became friends post-war to begin with. curt is kickin around here because he went on a field trip to whop fuckface's ass. (and sees a lot of his own mom in helen which is a whole curt lore Thing but that's more rachel's zone).

They had settled into a routine of sorts. Blakely went to work in the morning while Helen stayed at his house with Wyatt. She pattered around, did laundry- did anything really to make his base housing one story feel less cagey.

When he got back, they'd eat together and spend a couple of hours doing what Jean had tenderly dubbed "playing house" during her last phone call to Helen. After putting the three-year-old to bed, they'd settle down on opposite sides of Blakely's bed and it was nothing more or less than that. Save for Wyatt waking up a little past 2am and wanting B'akey every other night.

For a woman who had been roughed up by her piece of shit boyfriend two weeks ago, Helen seemed to be doing marginally okay. The scratches on her face were healing and didn't seem like they'd scar. She told Blakely his flight uniform looked nice on days he had to leave for work in it, laughed over dinner and smiled at him when she crawled into bed- seemingly inching closer to his side each night.

But the routine wasn't supposed to include him giving Curt permission to go beat on the guy only to get a text that he'd shown up to Wyatt on the front porch with Helen inside telling him to leave because they were just talking.

---

“And what if he is sorry, why’s it such a big deal to you if I forgive him?” Helen said, scrubbing a cup as bitterly as it was possible to do such a thing.

It was the third day since Tuesday that they'd had this fight, and he wasn't even sure who was picking it first anymore.

“Cause I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and I don’t understand why you do. Look at your arm- all he has to do is says Oops! and you'd go back to him?" He said, voice going up an octave. "You'd bring Wyatt back around that piece of shit after he scared him so bad?”

Helen put down the cup she was washing, furling and unfurling her fingers. She spoke at the kitchen counter more than she was him, her back still turned.

“He never touched Wyatt, I already told you that. People can change.” Helen said, her voice softening slightly. “And I still don’t see why it's any of your business,” she continued.

“Because it's my preference that you don't go back to someone that put his hands on you? Kinda feels like common sense to me Hel, what type of friend would I be if I just sent you on your way to him."

Blakely was exasperated, and felt his face tightening.

Curt had tried to get across to him, in other words- that growing up in a stable home made him sheltered.

"You're doin' a good thing Blakely, but it's not always so cut and dry. If you don't think you got the patience to stick it out when she wants to hit reverse y' gotta look after yourself too."

But that was silly, he thought then. Helen could never be too much for him.

He saw Curt's point now.

Helen still wasn't facing him, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she inhaled and gulped, like she was trying to choke something down.

If she had been trying to bite her tongue, it didn't work.

“You’re not my boyfriend Ev, it’s none of your business who is.”

“Yeah, cause you really know how to pick ‘em.”

The second those words left his mouth he wanted to shove them back in. But he couldn't now- not when all the air had been sucked out of the room in a millisecond.

The folded flag sitting on the windowsill that they'd taken from her house for safekeeping seemed to have grown eyes, which glared at him accusatorily.

A little noise escaped Helen, like a hurt animal, and Ev pressed his face into his hand, dragging it down.

“That’s not- shit Hel, I wasn't talking about Nash,” He said, inhaling when he sensed her turn around, taking a couple steps closer to him.

“No- you were talkin’ about him. Cause you’re jealous, been jealous of him since you started coming around. Everyone wants something and- you aren’t any different.”

Her voice was tight, and she was so close to him now that he could feel her breath on his face- her eyes searching for something in his.

There were things he wanted, a lot of them. But it was a prioritized list. It always had been.

"I want you to be safe, Helen," he said quietly. "For Wyatt to be safe. You want me to apologize for that?

Helen wrapped her arms around herself, thumb rubbing at a tender mottled yellow-green mark on her bicep.

"I want you to be honest with me," she whispered, looking at Blakely with a faint sniffle. "Because right now, you're not being that and you know it."

"Are you?" he asked back, his voice barely above a whisper.

Helen started at him, inhaling, crossing her arms over her body a little tighter.

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean Ev."

"You know what it means." He replied, locking eyes with her- trying to soften his gaze. "I want to be honest, but you have to work with me here hon, cause I- I don't wanna overstep. Kinda means you gotta go first."

For a second it looked like she was going to respond- lips parting to speak. But there seemed to be some sort of override and a flash of panic flashed over her face.

Helen took a step back, breath catching in her throat.

"I- I need to go get Wyatt ready for dinner, I'm sorry," She stammered, brushing past him and away without waiting for a response.

#ughh helen bby girl #you deserve the love this man is trying to give you </3 #ev x helen #young vets au #masters of the air #everett blakely #helen mota

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wowbright · 10 months

Text

Fic: Recommend

Fandom/pairing: Glee, Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023

Words: ~1500 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Although Kurt's faith has changed, he still manages to get his temple recommend renewed.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Out of Eden, which I am still in the process of posting to AO3. It’s among the possibilities for their future. Mormonsplaining and mild warnings in tags.

* * *

Kurt and his parents had always planned for him to do Finn's temple work when he got back from his mission. It had seemed the right thing at the time, a fitting way to honor the two young men’s brotherhood and make it even more real.

They hadn't seen its one glaring flaw: they were all assuming Kurt would return from Germany with the same faith he'd taken with him when he’d left.

“I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get my temple recommend renewed when I get back,” Elder St. James said to Kurt on their Lufthansa flight to New York. He was on his third Milka mini chocolate bar snatched from the candy buffet near the bathrooms on the lower deck, and Kurt was on his fourth.

“Why?” Kurt said. “Gluttony’s not against the Word of Wisdom. Besides, if chocolate and cookies are all they're going to offer us between meals and we're growing young men, we kind of have no choice. Besides, that breakfast was hardly a breakfast.”

“European breakfasts never are,” agreed Elder St. James. “But it's not the Word of Wisdom I'm concerned about. It's that question about sustaining all the leaders. I'm not sure I can answer ‘yes’ to that in good conscience. I mean, I voted to sustain them at the last general conference, but since my vote doesn’t actually mean anything since they just ignore the abstentions and opposition votes, am I actually sustaining them?”

“You pray for them, don't you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I think that's what sustaining means—offering sustenance. With a child, that would mean giving them food and clothing and shelter and support and love. The leaders don't need those first three things from us, but they do need our support and love. And we show that by respecting them and praying for them.”

“Huh.” Elder St. James opened a fourth chocolate bar and took a thoughtful bite. “I suppose that works. I mean, it's not my fault that I can't actually sustain them in the vote sense, and the temple questions are supposed to be about things that are within our own control, so … Thanks, Elder Hummel. That helps.”

Kurt unwrapped his fifth chocolate. But before he could break off a piece, he started wondering if he was eating his feelings, trying not to think about what was actually happening, how he was currently vaulting through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour, every second pulling him farther and farther away from Blaine and closer to a future that he couldn't envision. Hmmm. Maybe he should eat his feelings. It was better than thinking about that. Besides, he felt nowhere near full.

“Do you have any worries?” Elder St. James said.

Kurt had so many worries, he didn't know where to start. Maybe he could mention how he didn't actually understand how planes stayed in the air and it was rather disconcerting to be hovering over the Arctic when he could easily imagine the plane just dropping out of the sky and plunging them into the icy water to their untimely deaths, and while he didn't fear for his own salvation, he did rather like this life they were currently living and also, it would be terrible for his parents to lose two sons in so many years. But before Kurt could think about whether this was an appropriate response, Elder St. James clarified, “About your temple recommend questions?”

Kurt gave his one-time companion a sharp look. “What's that supposed to mean?” The recommend questions included one about the law of chastity, and while Kurt knew he had done nothing wrong, it would be better if rumors didn’t spread. Blaine was still inside the mission.

“Nothing in particular.” The vacant look behind elder St. James's eyes seemed to confirm his sincerity. “I mean, you’re such a Peter Priesthood I figured you wouldn't have trouble with any of them. But maybe I was hoping, just a little, that you were in the same boat as me.”

“What boat is that?” Kurt asked.

Elder St. James popped the rest of his chocolate bar into his mouth and chewed it slowly. He didn't speak again until he had swallowed it all. “I don't know. Not as excited about all this church stuff as I was when we were on the plane out here? I mean, I don't even know if I want to go to the temple again.”

"Well, the temple is –" Kurt looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was listening. He had, perhaps, become a little too used to speaking about the temple freely with Blaine. “–it's a lot different from every day worship. And the sessions are long. But I want to go back. I have work to do for my stepbrother.”

The necessity of that work, Kurt’s obligation to his family—they had nagged at Kurt as he’d weighed the risks of becoming physically intimate with Blaine. It had felt like another unfairness imposed on him by the church, forced to choose between loyalty to the family he came from and commitment to the family he was discovering in Blaine.

But as time passed and Kurt got closer to leaving Germany, denying the gift Blaine was offering him had begun to feel like a sin bigger than any lie Kurt might tell the bishop. And he had discovered just how true that was when they finally slept together: being intimate with Blaine, Kurt had felt for the first time what it must have been like to be one of those legendary first humans, before sin and pain existed, when they felt no shame in their nakedness or the bodies that had been gifted them. Their love was sinless because it grew from that same place without sin.

So it was with a clean conscience, upon returning to Ohio, that Kurt answered yes to his bishop’s question of Do you obey the law of chastity? Kurt’s actions with Blaine had been authentically chaste—reserved for one’s spouse, pure in conduct and intention, free of coercion, seeing the full humanity of the other person and loving them for it. Blaine was his other half in the truest sense, regardless of whether the church or the law recognized it.

Nor did Kurt have any qualms about professing his testimony in God the creator or in Jesus Christ or the restoration of the gospel—his faith in these things was even deeper than before he left on his mission, though in a way he would never have expected.

Even Do you support, affiliate with, or agree with any group or individual whose teachings or practices are contrary to or oppose those accepted by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? was easy to answer the right way, because the only teachings “accepted by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” were those that had come before the general conference for a vote of common consent. The Proclamation on the Family wasn't one of those things. And besides, he was pretty sure the question was mainly meant to root out polygamists.

Do you keep the covenants that you made in the temple? and Do you strive to keep the covenants you have made, to attend your sacrament and other meetings, and to keep your life in harmony with the laws and commandments of the gospel? were harder. Kurt wasn't even sure he remembered all the covenants he had made in the temple. But the ones he remembered, and the ones he had honestly agreed to, with full understanding—he strove to keep those. As for keeping his life in harmony with the laws and commandments of the gospel, he was more committed to doing that than he’d ever been, even if his understanding of “the gospel” was probably different than his bishop’s.

“Have there been any sins or misdeeds in your life that should have been resolved with priesthood authorities but have not been?” the bishop asked.

“No,” Kurt answered.

“And finally,” the bishop said, “do you consider yourself worthy to enter the Lord’s house and participate in temple ordinances?”

No more or less than any other of God’s children, Kurt thought to say, but he knew it wasn't the answer the bishop was looking for and would only confuse him. “Yes,” Kurt said.

The bishop signed the recommend and sent Kurt on his way with a smile and a handshake and, “Now, don’t spend all your time at the temple. Your first priority now that you've gotten back from your mission is to find a wife.”

“Thanks for the advice," said Kurt, trying to accept it in the same well-meaning spirit it was given.

Then it was rinse and repeat with the stake president, and Kurt had his recommend. Alone in the car, he turned the card over in his hand, staring at the movement of light over its barcode and lettering. “Finn,” he said, “I hope you’re ready for this.”

#december klaine challenge 2023 #day 5: flaw #mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #Mention of eating lots of chocolate #Finn being dead #and panicky thinking due to fear of flying.#A temple recommend is a card church members need in order to go inside a Mormon temple.

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minniiaa · 7 months

Note

I AM FROTHING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!11!!!!1!!!!!! YOU GOT ME BARKING

First of all, thank you ^-^ <333

You've not only satisfied my simp heart with bottom Law but also my yearn for and emotionally constipated Law being proven wrong

Second, I have more ideas or course :D

This is a gigantic leap from my previous… contributions, but I want to share my love for something I enjoy just as much as my little guys (grown ass men) getting railed in such a way it puts the trolley problem to shame. Sweet, sweet aftercare, I dunno what about it that enthralls me but just- like- I- jsbdudbskospaks-

It's an honest 50/50 whether the aftercare situations I think up actually comes after sex or if it's all I think of. It has me by the throat man.

Something about Law feeling safe enough to tell Luffy when he's had enough without feeling the need to force or threaten Luffy, or not holding out far past his limit so Luffy doesn't “get bored of him” makes my brain melt and mold back into the shape of a sea urchin.

OH, MORE THOUGHTS!!! >:0

Here me out, modern au, Law comes back to their apartment more tired than he's ever been after the longest shift he's pulled in a while. All he wants, more than anything, is their bed, screw the shower, he couldn't stand long enough to take one and he knows the moment his knee bends further than what's needed to walk his body will collapse. So he heads straight to bed, unsurprisingly, Luffy is awake and anticipating Law's return to give him his “goodnight kiss” that became the only constant thing Luffy upholds. Law tosses himself into bed as soon as he gets his pants off, leaving them on the floor along with his shirt, and Luffy is immediately on him. Not to Law's dismay, he knows he won't last long but the fact that Luffy still wants him when he's coated in sweat and deadweight kind of turns him on. He's right, he doesn't last when Luffy eats him out while running only the pad of his thumb up and down the base of Law's shaft, and GOD does everything *hurt. Law doesn't get that post-nut daze, instead he's hit with an ache deep in every muscle and bone from the souls of his feet to the back of his head that he has no choice but to succumb to. So badly does he want to feel Luffy all over him, all up in him, but he can't ignore his limit if he tries. He gets what he wants anyways, without having said a word Law's exhausted body is crushed by the concrete hold Luffy calls a hug, and Law couldn't be more grateful for Luffy's mysterious workout routine. It's the silent communication of Law's needs that relaxes him further, not needing to rely on his voice for Luffy to know, to understand, his pain makes it all the more easier to just let Luffy take care of him.

You got me out here writing paragraphs man, you've changed my chemical components on a spiritual level lol. Also, I stand by that my headcanon dumps are a bit much, so just know that I don't expect a masterpiece response every time. I MEAN THEY ARE ENCOURAGED CAUSE GYATT DAMN, would ABSOLUTELY eat your writing while dressed better than for a wedding and a napkin in my lap, but I dunno, I don't want you to think I'm trying to make you pump out tailored content for me. Definitely just like my own self-consciousness wanting me to make that clear sorry lol I think this might be the largest headcanon dump I've shared.

-💫💀💫

ANONNN I AM SO SORRY I JUST CHECKED MY INBOX AND SAW THIS BEAUTY!!

I am sooo glad you enjoyed my little oneshot I wrote and it scratched the itch of your last message. I just took that idea and RANNNNNN with it I have to admit.

I am also super happy that you came up with your own head canons omfg I'm frothing. I definitely can't write a whole story this time, but you inspired me to add some of my own little head canons because it was just too good!

You are hilarious and I am picturing you dressed for a wedding waiting for dinner but it's actually just my writing. Don't feel self-conscious, I live for this shit. You can leave headcanons whenever though I can't promise I'll be able to get back asap, I will always slurp it up and add my own thoughts if it's something that speaks to me. Maybe one day you'll decide to share your own stories and I will be the one who gets to leave my headcanons in there! :)

With that being said, here are my thoughts:

I loveee Lulaw aftercare (and just aftercare in general cause who doesn't like the sweet moments after getting your insides rearranged), especially your situation. I'm deceased at the thought of Luffy always waiting up for Law's goodnight kiss. Does he do it because he wants Law to be the last thing he sees every night before bed? Or because he wants to make sure that he's awake if Law needs him after his long hard days at work? Maybe both, Luffy is self-indulgent and also wants to do whatever he can to make Law feel loved and comfortable.

Sometimes Law needs Luffy to fuck him until he forgets about how shit his day was and how maybe he lost a patient and he just needs his mind and body filled with nothing but Luffy who can push him to the edge in unimaginable ways. Luffy never says no, he could eat Law for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He just loves watching the way his normally tense and irritated lover falls apart underneath him. Other times, Law just needs his partner to give him a quick and much-needed release before pulling him into his arms and giving him the attention he craves when he can barely think straight after a stressful day, his body screaming at him to just shut off and let go.

Luffy knows Law so well that he never has to tell him what he wants which is great because Law is terrible about asking for things. He never wants to be a burden, never wants to feel like he's taking too much from Luffy when he's already given him everything he's ever wanted and more. Luffy feels Law's body going limp after he comes, how he sighs contently and buries his face into his chest. Law just needs him there to recharge him, to soothe his weary body and soul and Luffy loves him so much he would never think of doing anything different.

Luffy knows exactly what Law needs in those quiet moments in the dark. He runs his hands over Law's aching body, healing him with his soft touches. Soft kisses are pressed against his skin, no intent to go anywhere further behind them even though Luffy yearns to feel Law around him, to hear his pretty sounds echoing through his ears. That can wait for another time, right now he will just satisfy Law with his gentle caresses. He wraps his arms around Law, pulling his weary form into his arms, so close that he begins to forget where he ends and Law begins just the way he likes it.

Law usually gets so flustered and cranky when Luffy spills his feeling out but they've been doing this for so long now that Luffy knows Law will let him say whatever he wants when they're like this and he takes full advantage of it. He plays with Law's hair, telling him how much he loves him, how he's so lucky to have him in his life, how he wants to be with him forever. He lists all of the thing he loves about him-his compassion, dedication, strength, and beauty.

Law loves the way Luffy's voice sounds when he whispers these sweet nothings into his ear. He's so calm and quiet, so different from his normally loudmouthed self. Sometimes he responds, though usually only with a "thank you" or "I love you". Words are hard for him even though he feels just as strongly for Luffy. It brings him comfort knowing that Luffy never expects him to say anything back, that he does this simply because he wants to.

Once, in a fit of insecurity, Law asked Luffy if he feels neglected because Law is so terrible with words and even though he tries, he just can't express how he feels inside. Luffy simply smiled at him and said "I know how much you love me. You don't need to say it. I just like to tell you because sometimes you get in your head like you are right now and forget". Another time, he apologized to Luffy for being too exhausted to move a muscle after Luffy went down on him. Just like before, Luffy smiled and said "Making you feel good makes me feel good. Taking care of you makes me happy."

After that, Law realized he might just be the luckiest man in the world. He stopped worrying about if Luffy wanted or needed more from him on these days when he he couldn't give anymore. He graciously took all the affection he was given, allowing Luffy's calming voice to lull him to sleep, saying words Law would never be able to accept were all for him.

That's all for today, sorry if it was a little messy I am too tired to proofread any further. Thank you once again for the food for thought <3333

#anon ask #ask #lulaw #law x luffy #lawlu headcanon #law #luffy #trafalgar d water law #monkey d luffy #one piece lawlu

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that-one-anxious-mango · 1 year

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You + Me = US (3) : The Finale.

Summary: In the conclusion of Y+M = US, you awake and finally have a long overdue conversation with Austin, who makes a confession nn of his own.

Contents: Angst if you squint. Crying. Good Ole' hurt and comfort. Major Fluff. A happy ending as promised :) Allusions to childhood trauma.

A/N: Hello Beautiful Humans! I hope you are all well! This is infact the last installment of Y+M=US! Thank you so much for all the love, support, and interaction. It means the world to me that you all enjoy it! Now as some have voted a discussion board about this piece of the Days of Our Love Series is posted along with some guidelines. Thanks for reading!

Much love *hugs*

Arie

P.S Feel free to comment , reblog, or send me a letter :)

Taglist: @wacoshuffle, @purejasmine, @louisejoy86

---

It'd a total of eight hours since you'd been admitted to the hospital, and it had been eight hours of you sleeping the day away.

By now it was almost eight thirty in the evening and Austin was still in his same spot in the hospital church across from your bed, only now he too was sleeping.

In time everyone had came and laid eyes on you and left letting Austin know that if there were any changes or he needed anything, not to hesitate to call them.

But what he truly needed was for you to wake up.

Coming in the room to check on you the nurse made her rounds taking your vitals and such.

Just as she was about to leave the room she looked over to Austin.

She knew that the poor man hadn't left this room much besides stepping in the hall to speak to people. And she figured that somebody has to nudge him to eat something and go for a little walk to get some air.

The nurse smiling walked over to Austin.

" Mr. Butler..." She gently shook him, " Mr. Butler." She tried again successful this time.

Opening his eyes he slowly sat up fully in the chair before becoming alert when he noticed that it was the nurse before him.

" Excuse me. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to nod off. Is everything alright. Is my wife, okay." He questioned eyes darting between her and you, who was still sleeping in your same position.

Still smiling she says, " Oh yes. Mr. Butler everything is quite good. Her vitals are already starting to improve and the baby is doing great." She informed the frazzled man. " No need to worry."

He nodded, "Oh." He sighed, " Good. That's amazing."

" Yes it is. I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you. But I know that you've been so dutiful sitting here beside your wife all this time...but and hopefully you won't believe I'm overstepping my boundary, I believe that now may be a good time to go downstairs to the cafeteria and maybe get yourself a bite to eat. " She suggested hoping he wouldn't take offense. " It'll be good to stretch your legs and shake it off. Keep your strength up. We can only help our loved ones get better if we're making sure we still feel good also." She finished.

Austin looked at her taking in what she had said while glancing to you. He wouldn't lie to himself and say that he hadn't gotten a bit stiff and his stomach feel like it was touching his back a bit. And still though, he felt like all those feeling fell to the wayside because of how strong his urge to be near you was.

What was he gonna do if he left and something happened while he wasn't here.

What if you woke up and he wasn't here so you thought he'd just left you.

What if.

It was the same two word combination Austin always encouraged you to try and rid from your vocabulary because of how anxious they made you.

And look at him now being a hypocrite.

Sighing he said, " While that sounds good. What if.." He cringes, " If something happens and I'm not here." He questioned.

Understanding his concern the nurse said, " I know. But I assure you that myself and two other nurses are about ten feet away at the nurses station and will be at her bedside in a second if anything transpires. " She affirmed motioning out through the glass.

Deciding that he did in-fact need to care for himself too he exhaled, " Okay..then. I guess I'll go and grab something. I can bring it up back here, right? " He asked.

She nodded, " Of course that's no problem, Mr. Butler."

Offering the nurse a small smile Austin then got up stretching with a quiet yawn. Walking over to you he ran his hand against the top of your head to lean down and kiss your forehead. " I'll be back baby." He whispered reaching down to grab your hand and rub it before exiting the room along with a nurse that was all smiles.

After about thirty minutes of going down to the cafeteria and having himself a little walk outside to get some air while having a quick phone convo with Ashley T.

Austin had returned with a nice apple chicken walnut salad and lemonade in tow.

When he walked in he glanced at you before going over to the chair to sit down and eat with a sigh.

But unbeknownst to him, you were awake.

You'd actually woken up around thirty minutes ago when you'd felt something touch your hand. When you opened your eyes for the first time and noticed you were alone, you had closed them again. Not sleep, but just resting.

He hadn't gotten two bites into the salad before he was slightly startled by your somewhat hoarse voice, " Well is it good? " You joked.

Immediately dropping what he was doing, in a flash he was kneeled down at your bedside.

" Hi baby. How you feeling? " Austin asked silently hitting the bottom overhead the page the nurse.

He couldn't hide the soft smile that graced his face as he thanked God that you were awake and okay.

" A little funny..but good. " You blinked looking around.

He watched as you tried to slowly sit up but he quickly stopped you, " Whoa, baby.. Hey..take it easy. It's okay just relax." He kneeled down next you running a hand against your head.

Soon the nurse came in who quickly assessed you and let you know that everything was stable and the baby was healthy.

At the mention of the baby you felt your face drain with color at the remembrance that Austin was in-fact in the room, and he knew now. Awkwardly you avoided looking at him until she left you again just before informing you two that the doctor had been whisked away to do a emergency induction but would be by to check on you and your status as soon as she could.

Once it was just the two of you, you started to ask more in-depth questions about what happened.

" So I just all of a sudden passed out? " You broke the lingering silence looking toward your fiancée as you recalled the information just given to you by the nurse.

With a sincere look he responded, " Yes. You were out with Alana and Avery at Lunch. They say you got up to use the bathroom, complained about being dizzy and the next thing they know you passed out and hit the floor. Thank god you didn't hit your head or fall the right way on something else..because babe this could have been way worse than some exhaustion and minor bruising." Austin stated shuddering a little at the possible thought of you having been seriously injured.

" Oh my gosh." You whispered trying to piece the afternoon back together the best you could. But every time you got to the part about lunch things did get a bit fuzzy.

You remember being there, you remember little pieces of conversation, and you could remember seeing the family and the feeling you got...but after that it went..well blank.

" Oh my gosh is right. " He parroted grabbing your ringed hand in his to kiss it and draw your attention back to his serious demeanor, " Do you know how big of a scare you gave me today. Huh, baby? Do you know the thoughts that ran through my head when I got a call from your sister all the way in Texas telling me that the love of my life was unconscious and being rushed to the hospital." He vented having a sense of worry attached to his voice.

You felt terrible.

" Grace knows..." You started.

" Yeah, she does. I've been on the phone with her on and off most of the day. She's trying to figure out some time next week she can move around the come and see you. Says she just wants to lay eyes on you herself." He informed.

Nodding since you knew that sounded like your sister, your mind then wandered to your friends, " Right...Does everyone else know? Did someone call Bea, Phoebs, Lana, Lexie? " You listed your girls.

Oh they know all alright He thought gritting his teeth a little. Part of him wishes he could go into full detail about everything that had transpired today. But he ultimately knew this wasn't the time nor the place to bring such things up when you were still in a semi-delicate state like this.

So instead he went, " Yeah they know. They've been here and gone. Stayed awhile too all of em'. Even Santiago and Sprite were here. I told them I'd give them a update on you...and the baby.. whenever you were awake."

At the mentioned of the baby, you could sense the anxious energy radiating off of Austin that you too shared. You knew he'd had to be dying to ask you so many questions, but for your sake was suppressing those feelings to give you some peace of mind.

His hand shot out to cup and caress your face while turning it so he could get a good look at you.

You carefully leaned into his touch as your eyes watered thinking about all the grief and stress you'd caused this man by the actions you'd made. You felt terrible that you'd kept this from him but at the time your mind had been convinced that it was something to hide.

" Mama.." He started, " Why didn't you tell me? " He questioned. His eyes were pouring into yours now in search of something beyond a simple answer.

" I would've been there for you. I wanted to be there for you." He confessed.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. The look at his face was so pure and beamed of dedication.

You could tell that he was largely hurt that you had kept this from him by the gaze of his eyes.

" I wanted to but I was scared.." You meekly answered letting tears begin to race down your face. This was it. Your breaking point.

You couldn't hold it in anymore.

“ A-and I-m so-so." You choked out not being able to completely get the words out that were being disrupted by the sobs that came from hoarse throat.

" Shhh. It's alright honey. I know It's okay. I got you."

Cooing at you Austin gently got up from his kneeling position to come around to your bedside and gently shift you over so he could climb in beside you and wrap you in his arms while draping the blanket over you both. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, Austin continued holding on in efforts to calm you. He was careful to wait to feel your body relax some and breathing slow before he decided to begin softly speaking,

" Now, Y/N I need to be honest with me and know that whatever your choice I support you. But do you wanna have this baby?" Austin bit the bullet and asked holding his breath.

Truth be told he was in love with the idea of you carrying his child, but nonetheless he was in love with you more.

So, he'd support whatever decision you wanted to make, even if it might hurt.

Sitting quiet for a moment while thinking back to all the negative things that had swirled around in your head for the last three weeks.

All the doubts and stress. Worries about how a baby would affect yours and Austin's life, worries about how'd you be as a parent, and overall worries about the experience period.

You almost felt like you shouldn’t be doing this.

But, when you thought back to the little family at the tea shop earlier and how happy they were, and the vision you had of being even happier with Austin and your baby that way.

All the doubts, stress, and worry while still being there felt small...they felt conquerable.

And that realization is what mustered you have the measly courage to be able to say , " Y-yes I do. I really do actually."

At the moment Austin could feel his chest fill with air again and this invisible anchor pulling his heart to the floor release.

That was it, you were having his baby...and he couldn't be happier.

Even, still considering that the choice affected him just as much, you quickly followed up with a question of your own, " But do you wanna have this baby? I mean I know I want to...but at the end of the day this is about both of us." You posed.

You knew Austin was finally getting the recognition for his career he deserved and he was absolutely smacked with so many projects and things. So, you didn't want this to be something that held him back or messed up the plans you'd made together. You'd talked about kids possibly sure, but those musings definitely were imagined further down the line.

Without the slightest hesitation he answered, " Baby...I never wanted something more than to have this baby with you. " He affirmed touching his forehead with yours. " It'd be the greatest honor and joy of my life besides when I become your husband. And that's something you can count on." He declared.

You didn't hide the grin that took over your face at his assertion.

" You mean it? " You asked knowing you shouldn't have but you couldn't help it.

You knew he was rolling his eyes, " Again for the thousandth time, woman. You know I wouldn't lie to you. Of course I mean it! With everything I am.

" Well good. I only ask because I know that your finally starting to get good projects that your invested in and you have career plans and I-" You began to ramble but he stopped you mid way

" Hey look at me. Look me right in my eyes when I say, " He began positioning so that your faces were only inches away from each other and the eye contact was undeniable, " You are pregnant with our baby. OUR BABY, honey. There will never...and I mean never ever ever ever," He emphasized " Be anything more important than you two! " He moved to rub at your stomach.

There wasn't much to see really to the blind eye. But to Austin now since he was finally close enough to see and more importantly feel you, he noticed the slight change around your tummy and it made his heart swell.

" I know you're scared and I understand that it's a scary journey for anyone. But I need you to know there is no one in the world I'd rather want to do this with. To carry our baby and raise them to be just as sharp, kind, and beautiful as their mama. You aren't going to be anything like your mother, you hear me? Because I know that fear is hurdling through you. " Austin held your chin making sure you looked just at him, " You are going to be an amazing mother because you're a amazing human being, babe. And I'll be here everyday God willing to remind you of that."

" So, all the things I've said I need you to get that through our your pretty little head. My babies are my priority and you're going to be a phenomenal mother to our child. You got that? " He questioned needing to make sure he was making himself completely clear.

Body swirling with joy and to your surprise excitement all you could do was truthfully nod.

On cue you felt a soft pinch administered to your thigh, " Y/N...Don't let this new pregnancy brain get you in trouble. Act like you still know what's what. " Austin warned with you knowing that even though he couldn't administer a punishment right now due to your condition right now, he would tuck the reminder in his pocket to bring out later.

Shallowing a breath while squirming a little under his touch you replied, " Yes I got it, daddy."

Smiling he tapped your thigh, " Good. Now give me some sugar before I get up to go and get you and our baby something to eat." He directed.

Not hesitating at his request you leaned in to place a kiss on your mans lips that almost took your breath away when you felt it become needier and needier at the way you both gently grabbed at each other and moved closer wanting to make up for the time lost that you could've been wrapped up with each other.

Quickly Austin had to remember that you were on the mend and needed to take it easy, so he pulled away making you huff and whine at the ghostly feeling of your lips not being on his. He just smiled at you pecking your cheek once more then whispering, " I love you. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and soon to be baby butler." He added and you giggled, " Forever, always, and beyond."

Grabbing his hand to interlock with your, " And we love you Austin Robert Butler..soon to be papa butler. Forever, always and beyond."

It was around midnight now and you'd long eaten the food brought in for you. Now the two of you were back together laid up in the hospital bed. One of his hands resting on your stomach while the other was interlocked with yours as you played with his fingers.

Your head was comfortably on his chest, and his on top of your head.

You were just about to allow yourself to go back to sleep when you felt his head leave yours and reposition so he was able to stare at your face.

Opening your eyes, you playfully frowned as you looked at Austin who all of a sudden was looking back at you with a rather large cheshire cat smile like he'd had the most wonderful thought.

" What? " You yawned. " What is it, my sweet baboo? " You tiredly continued.

He still just stared until his casually spoke, " Marry me." He said taking your face into his palm.

You giggled sleepily, " What? "

" You heard me. Marry me? " He repeated leaning in to place a soft kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back you blushed, " I'm sorry Mr. Butler but I'm pretty sure we've been over this bit before dont'cha think? " You flashed you're ringed finger to him.

He laughed, " Of course I remember one of the best days of my life. But ztill, I want us to get married. " He said.

Still looking at him funny you went," Aus, we are getting married what are y-"

" No, honey. I mean as soon as you feel better and get back into the swing of things. I want us to get married, I don- no I can't wait any longer." He expressed rubbing your ringed hand in his.

Taken a back you blinked a little in disbelief, " B- I- Austin what about all the wedding plans we'd started with Beatrice, honey. I mean when I brought eloping up you didn't want to hear really. In fact I remember you insisting we waited." You reminded him of his apprehension to the idea when you brought it up.

Your man was nothing if not traditional in many aspects when it came to your relationship, so it was no surprise to you when he gently shot down the idea and wanted to go ahead with the 'normal pace of things'.

" Yeah that was before when I thought I could be more patient and withstand the months that go into the planning and all to give you the traditional wedding you deserve. But I can't...I need you to be my wife as soon as humanly possible, mama. " He declares. " We can still have the ceremony and everything else as planned." He assured kissing your cheek. " But the sooner your wagon is hitched to mine...the better." He sighed rubbing your shoulder.

Still puzzled your mind allowed itself to wander.

" Austin..is there something in particular that made you all of sudden want to do this...like did something happen?" You mused wondering what could have prompted this idea.

Putting his mouth in a line Austin was tempted to tell you the truth that besides the fact he was in love with you and wanted spend the rest of his days beside you, he also wanted to marry you not only because he detested the fact that today he had jump through hoops to be granted all types of permission for things pertaining to you from other people and as your husband he would be direct next of kin in all situations, but he also couldn't lie and say that Alana words didn't ring around in his head.

He's the fiancée.

Thinking back to the whole situation he could feel himself begin to get upset and he knew that you would pick up on his slightest change in his attitude. So he instead mentally took a beat.

He figured that eventually this would be a conversation later after you were home and well.

" Just..I want you to be my wife and I don't ever want anyone to be able to say different going forward." He stated. " And that's that."

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you were about to question his mutli layered statement but he stopped you by placing a kiss to your lips.

" Dont....just don't." He quietly whispered rubbing your shoulder.

Searching his face yourself you could tell by the way he tensed and the glossed over look in his eyes that silently told you that he wasn't ready to go where ever the two of you needed to go...you did just need to to leave it alone...for now.

So, instead of prying you smiled , " Alright, fine Mr. Man...when are we going to the courthouse, then." You teased going to hold his face in your hands.

Smiling back so hard you'd think his cheek bones would crack, he leaned in to place a hardy kiss to lips. When he pulled back he spoke in a accent that was all too familiar to you, " You mean when are we going Viva Las Vegas, baby."

#austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #daysourlove #themangowrites #austin butler

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arxxq · 2 years

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Prompt 13 with itoshi sae please!, thanks a bunch 💖

13. “Whoever has a problem with us can come fight me” | Itoshi Sae

Ah thank you anon for requesting! I just got back home and tmmrw I'm even more busy gah. ♡♡ i have school in a few hours lmao...should be sleeping but here i am

Hope you the best anon!

lowercase intended, mistakes will be fixed later on

Prompt list in my blog..can't post it here since this post won't be featured in the tags..

now sae had realized something off about you recently.

he was bothered by it but at first he decided to not ask you about it because maybe it was just for temporary.

but as time goes on, it wasn’t just for temporary. he wanted to know what wrong so bad but it wasn’t as easy because almost all the time he tried to approach you about it, you always manage to change the subject. you guys have been together for almost years, but he was so concerned on why you were behaving like this near him again as if he just started courting you.

he missed your touch, your embrace your warmth. as much as he does not want to admit it he missed it alot. even if he tried to hug you or even just simply touch your hand, you would pull away from him. he despise this action from you. just why in the world are you acting like this nowadays.

but as time pass on, he knew that he will be able to get his answer just that it wont be coming out from your mouth. one day as sae was scrolling on social media, he found a post that caught his attention only because the post was something about you and him.

it seems like whatever this person was saying was supposed to be directed to you. the post read “out of everyone sae had to chose that bitch..like c’mon there’s other fish in the sea!” and even the comments were agreeing with this said person saying how you don’t deserve him or saying that their better than her. sae scoffed at this. could this probably be the reason why you were behaving like this? its not safe to assumed so he decided to ask someone you trusted the most.

“no i’m not telling you anything,” right now sae was talking to a friend of yours. well it was the only person sae knew you had put so much trust into after all you’ve known eachother like siblings. “i know you yourself are worried about them, so if you cared then tell me,” sae wasn’t wrong. your friend themselves were worried about you so they sighed and gave in.

“yeah its about the post...and maybe also because they were cornered by others as well for the past few weeks..” now that was something sae was not expecting. sae nodded his head and the last thing he heard from your friend was, “you better make things right!”

sae was now home, he was waiting for you to enter the door and when you did lets just say he had you cornered so you couldn’t escape. “sae i have to cook dinner you know..” you tried to reason with him but he was unfortunately one step ahead. “no need i ordered take out.” before you could say another word, he beat you to it. “don’t even try to make up a silly excuse,”

you let out a breathe and lowered down your head lips trembling..sae immediately took notice of your action and pulled you into an embrace which surprised you “i know why you’ve been behaving like this and i don’t like it...so because of that i’ll say this once,”

“whoever has a problem with us can come fight me,” those words made you smile and let out a tear. “so if you could please stop acting like this..” he mumbled which made you laughed.

as you were eating, sae took the oportunity and made sure to remember to post that comment on the post. the comment says.

“if u got a problem with our relationship then come fight me because fyi they are much more better then you’ll ever be,”

Reblogs are highly recommended

Do not claim your own and do not post on other platforms

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff

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raina-at · 10 months

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Fic writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag, @khorazir!

How many works do you have on AO3?

29 fics, three J2 RPS, 1 Supernatural, the rest is Sherlock.

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

490,267 (though I have to add that a lot of my old fics aren’t on AO3, my overall word count must be well over a million.)

What fandoms do you write for?

In the past, Star Wars, Supernatural, Harry Potter, RPS. Right now it’s Sherlock, and has been for a while. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Bakers with Benefits

Don’t Read the Last Page

Running Obliquely

Take Two

All I Want for Christmas (is Proof)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always respond to comments, or at least I try my best to. It’s only polite, people took time to give me feedback, the least I can do is to thank them for their time.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t do angsty endings, my fics all end happily ;-)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm. Well. All my fics end on a happy note, but for me, it’s probably Spare Parts because that happy ending was the one I felt was the hardest won. But I do have a soft spot for the last chapter of Bakers with Benefits, because that was also a long road, both for Sherlock and for me.

Do you get hate on fics?

Hasn’t happened so far. Granted, I only posted one of my many, many Wincest stories, so maybe if I had more of them on AO3, but as it stands, I never got hate on one of my fics, and I hope it stays this way. The odd rude comment, but no hate.

Do you write smut?

Yup. But not a lot of it. I find the older I get the less smut I write, probably because it’s starting to feel repetitive. Which is funny, because I’ve written hundreds of love confessions and I never get tired of those.

Do you write crossovers?

Not yet. If the inspiration strikes, I might yet write one, but so far I haven’t.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of. I’m not on Wattpad and the likes, so there might be some stolen copies of my works out there, but who knows. Someone once told me about this person who plagiarized one of my J2 fics and re-wrote it as a Degrassi het fic, but the person had already deleted their account, so I couldn’t verify it. That was… bizarre.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several. Speak Now was translated into Spanish, Bakers with Benefits into French and Without Complexities or Pride into Russian.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My darling wife @nuttersinc and I co-wrote thousands of words of fic. We hosted fests and LJ communities, ran an online RPG together and co-wrote a huge fic series that we abandoned when we both fell out of that fandom at the same time. We haven’t been in the same fandom since back in our Supernatural days, but we did just about everything fandom spouses can do together except host a podcast ;-)

14 . What’s your all time favourite ship?

I mean… Johnlock just has The Dynamic down to a science. You can do so much with them. You can do anything. They’re so wonderfully perfect for each other in all their fucked-up, flawed, deeply human glory. But having said that, I have a weak spot deep in my heart for Mulder and Scully, because they were so important to me as a teenager, and they led me to fandom and fanfic. They’re the first ship that truly owned my soul. So a part of my heart will always belong to them.

(They also led me to my second favourite het ship of all time, Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, because Mulder compared himself and Scully to Peter and Harriet in one of my favourite fics, so of course I had to go read the books, and man, that’s a Dynamic, right there. Two whip-smart, emotionally extremely vulnerable people both desperately wanting and being deadly scared of true intimacy. I eat that up with a spoon. Also love the ‘man totally besotted with the smart, independent woman cutting his ego down to size’ dynamic.)

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh, so MANY. I never post WIPS because I want to feel free to abandon stories whenever, so I’m the only one haunted by my WIP folder, but there’s a few in there I would really like to come back to one of these days. But never say never, the first three pages of Nothing Gold Can Stay sat in there for MONTHS, gestating. You never know.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can only say what I enjoy writing, I hope that joy translates itself to the page. I love writing dialogue and I think I’m pretty good at it. I think I’m good at pacing, and I think I’m good at making people Feel Things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I sometimes lose patience with plot. Because I mostly use plot as a means for character development, I sometimes lose patience with my own plots. That mostly happens in the fics I don’t finish, and it’s mostly the reason I don’t finish the fic. I’m also not especially good at handling large casts of characters, many of my fics have very few characters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Honestly, it hasn’t come up yet. I would only do it in German, because that’s my native language, otherwise I’d be too worried to get it wrong. I don’t generally like it when conversations aren’t translated. Othewise I have no strong feelings about it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Wrote? X-Files. Posted? Roswell.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh, that’s hard. The ones I loved writing the most are probably Take Two and my J2 highschool AU. I wrote both very quickly in a sort of fugue state, and it just feels amazing when that happens. The one I enjoy re-visiting the most? Bakers with Benefits.

Tagging @keirgreeneyes @jrow @discordantwords @thetimemoves and anyone else who wants to do this.

#bbc sherlock #my fic #writing #20 fic writer questions #this is fun

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aylacavebear · 7 months

Text

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 18

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1502

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 18

After Sam and Maria left the kitchen for that tour, Dean went to the library with the dragon following. He had found it completely weird that images were coming to his mind, and he knew they were coming from Bubbles, convinced that was her name.

“So, how come she can’t see your thoughts,” Dean asked the dragon when he sat down at one of the library tables, the dragon in front of him.

The dragon tilted its head like it was contemplating how to answer him. The word “stubborn” reverberated softly in his mind, making him chuckle.

“Yeah, she seems pretty stubborn. How do you plan on convincing her to talk to me if she can’t hear your thoughts?” he asked somewhat curiously.

Again, the dragon seemed to be thinking. Then Dean could have sworn it shrugged its shoulders.

“Well, you’re no help,” he laughed and then swore the dragon glared at him a little, making him chuckle again. Dean reached out and rubbed the dragon's chin, and it made that purring sound, “This might be easier if she actually believed,” he sighed.

Something Dean had given up on a long time ago was a relationship. His job, hunting monsters, kept him from getting close to anyone, especially after what had happened with Lisa. Even with his thoughts wandering now, the dragon just watched him. The last thing Dean ever wanted was for someone else to get hurt, or worse because a monster was using them as leverage to get to him.

Well, at least she’d agreed to drinks and conversation, which Sam was thankful for. He hoped it would help ease the tension he could tell had been building since he’d said she was just a case. She looked almost nervous when he brought her a beer, trying not to chuckle when she immediately took a drink of it.

Dean’s attention kept going from the dragon to her as the dragon kept showing him the image of two people talking. It took everything in him not to chuckle, but he couldn’t keep the smile from playing along his lips. When Sam set the whiskey and glass down for him, he poured himself a double. It was called liquid courage for a reason, and he was gonna need it. Being nervous around a woman was something he’d never struggled with before, but she was different. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about,” she asked, somewhat quietly, not looking directly at either of them.

The little dragon walked over to where she was sitting and climbed into her lap. She set her hand on its back, over its wings, as it curled up comfortably. Sam had been debating how to start this since before he’d ever brought it up to her.

“Well, we’ll have to make a supply run in the next couple of days. What kinds of things do you like to eat?” Sam asked her, finding a simple and safe topic to start off with.

“Oh. Umm,” she began, then paused, sipping her beer for a few moments, “I like most meats, potatoes, cereal, some fruits.”

Sam chuckled, “Tell you what, we’ll make a list, and you can add what you’d like to it, or you could just go with us. Alright, what kinds of things do you like to do?”

“I like to bake and read stuff on Tumblr,” she replied, and it almost seemed like she was embarrassed at that.

Dean raised an eyebrow. She’d said the magic word, bake, “What kind of stuff can you bake?” He felt his breath hitch in his lungs again when she looked up at him with those deep, dark blue eyes of hers.

“All kinds of stuff. Following a recipe is easy,” she replied casually.

“Come on, Sweetheart, you gotta give me something more specific than that,” he chuckled, his curiosity getting the better of him. He really wanted to know what she could bake.

She furrowed her brow a bit, “Breads, cookies, cakes, pies, and everything in between.” “You had me at pie,” he smirked, sipping his drink.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, “What’s your favorite?”

“Apple, but I like all kinds of pie. Cherry is a close second,” he answered, still smirking happily. She was sweet, kind, beautiful, and she could bake. If it weren’t for the pull he already felt for her, he would be feeling one now.

She looked over at Sam, “Maybe we could add the ingredients to the list so I could bake,” she suggested, still seeming a little nervous.

“I don’t see why not,” Sam replied, giving her a friendly smile. He was grateful she was at least talking, and Dean was getting involved. Although, so far, she wasn’t really asking much about them, at least she seemed to be trying.

“Are you two gonna keep the sigils on?” she asked quietly, looking more at her beer than at either of them.

The brothers exchanged a look, having a silent conversation, which they did often. It was something neither of them had discussed, and they weren’t entirely sure how her powers would affect them. “We hadn’t talked about it,” Sam replied and sighed, “We just don’t know the full extent of how your powers will affect us. We’ve been hunters a long time and were just doing it as a precaution. It’s nothing against you,” he tried to reassure her.

“Well, uh, mine is mostly gone anyway,” Dean said, fidgeting a little, as he hadn’t said a thing to his brother about it, “Pretty sure it’s useless right now.” Then he finished his drink and poured himself another.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, although frustratedly, giving him a look to match. Dean just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then leaned back in his chair, drink in hand. He glanced over at her just in time to see her smile a little.

“I’ve never hurt anyone, just being around them,” she said quietly, then finished her beer.

Sam got up, grabbed a six-pack out of the fridge, then returned to the library, setting it on the table so he and Maria could both reach it when they needed another. He was slightly frustrated with his brother, but at the same time, if his suspicions were correct, the sigil was pointless for Dean.

“We get that. We just had to take precautions. Like I said, it’s nothing against you,” Sam again tried to reassure her.

“So, uh… what do you guys do when you aren’t hunting?” she asked quietly again, getting herself another beer.

“Well, we watch movies, play phone games sometimes, listen to music,” Dean answered, still with that happy, stupid smile on his face that he couldn’t get rid of, even if he’d wanted to. She was kind of adorable when she was being shy.

“Some of us read too,” Sam added, side glaring slightly at his brother.

She chuckled quietly, “I like to do those things too.”

To the brothers, she still sounded nervous, “What kinds of things do you like to read?” Sam asked.

They both noticed how she bit her bottom lip nervously, not really looking at either of them. “Mostly fanfics on Tumblr. But I like sci-fi stuff,” she replied, still in that quiet, nervous tone.

“Why do you seem so nervous?” Sam finally decided just to ask her.

She sighed, taking another sip of her beer. “Most people just think I’m weird with the stuff I like, so I don’t usually tell anyone,” she answered quietly.

Both brothers chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re not most people. Our lives are like a sci-fi novel or movie,” Sam told her, stifling another chuckle.

“Or like Halloween, every day of the year,” Dean added, pouring himself another drink.

She looked up at the two of them, and all Dean wanted to do was go hold her. She looked so sad to him, causing his smile to fade. Now, all he had to do was figure out what he could possibly say to get her to smile again.

“Weird is kind of our thing. It would be weird if our lives were normal,” Sam told her softly.

“So, you don’t think I’m weird?” she asked, sounding slightly nervous.

“Not really. Not in a bad way anyway,” Dean told her, trying to think of something smooth to say. His mind kept going blank. “You seem like our kind of weird.” Then he wanted to kick himself for saying that, at least until he heard her giggle.

“I don’t think anyone’s told me that before,” she giggled quietly again.

Sam saw the huge smile that Dean got, it went from ear to ear, “Honestly, Maria, just be yourself. Most people would probably find us weird.”

She smiled a little, “I think everyone should be at least a little weird. Normal can be boring,” she stated, finally finding a regular tone and not being as quiet as she had been. However, she was now on her third beer.

That got both brothers laughing. At least she seemed to start opening up. Either that, or she was getting buzzed, helping to lower her inhibitions.

An hour later, she’d had five beers total. The room had been filled with laughter, and now, she and Dean were arguing with Sam.

“Bacon is a meal, and there’s no way you can convince me that it isn’t,” she said with stubborn confidence.

“God, you and Dean both need a new diet. That much grease isn’t good for you,” Sam tried to argue back, making them both laugh again.

“Death by bacon. I can live with that,” Dean mused, sipping another glass of whiskey.

Sam couldn’t believe the statement that had just come out of his brother’s mouth, “You do realize that is an oxymoron, right?” “Whatever it is, I can live with it,” Dean stated, causing Maria to laugh again. It was like music to him, and he never wanted it to end. Then there was her smile, which could brighten any room.

“So, what’s the weirdest case you two have had to go on?” she asked, still laughing some at the bacon argument.

“Uh, that’s a tough one,” Dean replied, leaning back in his chair again, thinking back over all the cases they’d had over the years.

“We’ve had several weird ones,” Sam chuckled, thinking back.

“Well, what was the weirdest?” she asked again, seeming utterly curious.

“There was that time we were cartoons,” Sam mused, as that had been really weird for him.

“Wait, you were a cartoon?” she asked, seeming surprised and even more curious.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah. It was a ghost that was haunting a TV. I got for the Dean Cave. The ghost pulled us into an episode of Scooby Doo. Velma kissed Sam.”

She laughed at the story. When she caught her breath, though, she looked at Sam, trying to stop the continued giggles, “So, how was it getting kissed by a cartoon?”

He was still slightly embarrassed over that ordeal, “It was… kinda weird.”

“What do you mean by weird? Like, how the kiss felt or just the fact that you were a cartoon?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

Sam chuckled, “Kissing a fictional character that is a cartoon.”

“What about you, Dean? Did you get to kiss Dapne?” she asked, turning to him and raising an eyebrow.

If only she knew how incredibly adorable he found her, “No. She’s got a thing for Fred,” he chuckled.

Then, out of the blue, Sam put his hand on the side of his head, a look of realization crossing it, “I know why Crowly wants her, before her powers awaken.”

Great way to ruin the mood, Dean thought to himself, but he was also now curious, “Well, spit it out already.”

“Rowena’s his mother. She could perform the spell, to awaken her powers, leaving Maria indebted to the both of them,” Sam told them, finally having put the pieces together.

Maria grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and drank at least two shots worth, “Wonderful,” she grumbled, setting the bottle back where she’d gotten it from.

“That explains what Crowley told her, about when she changed her mind,” Dean sighed. At this point, he was just hoping that they could keep her safe. If she believed in soulmates or was even open to it, things could go differently, and Dean knew that.

The one thing the brothers could tell about her was that she wasn’t the kind of person to not find a way to pay back a favor or act of kindness. The mood of the evening quickly shifted. Both brothers noticed how she seemed to get uncomfortable with the revelation.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” she said fairly sullenly.

“I’m sorry Maria. It just came to me, and I blurted it out without thinking,” Sam apologized as she stood up, carefully picking up the sleeping dragon.

“It’s okay. I should get some sleep anyway,” she replied, although she sounded like something else was on her mind.

“Okay. Try to get some sleep,” Dean told her, softer than he realized.

She didn’t look back at them before she left them alone in the library and headed to her room.

“Dude, Seriously?!” Dean turned to Sam and told him, frustrated, “That could have waited till later.”

“I said I was sorry. It’s not like I was purposefully trying to upset her. Although, it’s kinda cute how you’re smitten with her,” Sam replied, teasing his brother a little. He really couldn’t resist.

“Jerk,” Dean mumbled, finishing his drink.

“Bitch,” Sam chuckled.

“Back to the Rowena/Crowley thing. He can’t get in here, but she can. Now what are we supposed to do?” Dean said, trying to figure out how they would get around this one.

Sam leaned back in his chair, beer in hand, “There’s not much we can do about that,” he sighed.

The problem with witches is that they were human, so a lot of things wouldn’t repel them or keep them from entering a home, like salt to ward against demons or ghosts. Rowena was also the most powerful witch alive, being over three hundred years old. They didn’t know all of what she could do, but they wouldn’t put anything past her abilities. She had removed the Mark of Cain from Dean, after all. On top of that, she knew where the bunker was, having been there several times to help with certain things when it was in her best interest.

“I might be able to find a protection spell, though,” Sam finally said, breaking the silence and getting on his laptop.

Sam had learned a few tricks from his interactions with Ruby many years ago. Then there were all the books in the bunker, several of which were spell books. The Men of Letters believed in using magic. It was a means to an end.

“Okay, just, don’t forget about us. The last thing I want is to piss that woman off too badly. She’s got a temper,” Dean told him.

So Dean drank while Sam poured through his laptop and books for the next several hours, far into the night. Maria never came back out of her room, and Dean hoped that she was sleeping and not sitting awake and alone.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 19

Tag List: @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

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