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happys-crazy-queen22 · 4 years ago

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The Lady Of The Night

Gif credit by @runabout-river.

Requested on wattpad

Hope you all enjoy.

Happy reading dollies.

Taglist @nocturnalherb16 @jesseswartzwelder.

Requested by AmberBatterton. I hope you like it. Sorry for the long wait. Thanks for the request.

Warning: polygamy relationship. Smut!

"Come on out, Y/N. I bet you look great". Antonio called from his desk. The whole team waiting for you to come out from Voights office. You were changing into something rather sultry and seductive. You might have volunteered to help with the John patrol, playing a woman of the night on the streets.

"I'm nervous". You yelled, covering yourself up with your coat.

"You'll be fine. We'll be right there with you. You could be saving a lot of girls by doing this". Voight calmly spoke reassuring you.

"Alright. Here I come". You took one deep breath and opened the door. Slinging off your coat and strutting into the room. Your hands on your hips. Feeling quite fierce.

"Holy shit". Antonio's mouth dropped as he seen you in the tight little dress that didnt cover much and leave nothing to imagination. Your heels clinked as you twirled around.

"So"? You asked shrugging your shoulders. Before you could get a answer Antonio hit the floor with a thud. Everyone rushed over to check on him.

As you bent over to see if he was okay. Everyone heard another thud behind them. Voight had taken Antonio's queue and fainted as well.

"Maybe this dress was a little to much"? You bit your lip as Adam called for a ambulance.

"You think? You just had two men faint over you. All their blood rushing to their cocks. So I think you'll do great tonight". Alvin assured, shaking Hank to wake up.

After the ambulance got there you decided to stay out of Antonio and Voights sight so you rode with Gabby and Shay. They were laughing and joking around the whole way. You felt bad that that happened with Antonio and Voight. Not meaning to look this sexy.

"Hey, Y/N". Kelly, Herrmann and Otis came in just as y'all pulled into the bay.

"Hey". You said with a frown.

"Why so glum, chum? Herrmann asked.

"Voight and Antonio fainted. It was my fault".

"Why? What did you do"? Kelly asked confused.

You were about to open your coat when Gabby jumped in front of you screaming.

"NO"!

"This isn't happening again. She's wearing a dress thats extremely sexy. No you may not see it". Gabby told them. They stood there with a what has gotten into Gabby today face.

"Okay. Geez. Calm down. Don't want you to have a heart attack". Kelly chuckled and walked away with the others.

Gabby turned to you. "I think you shouldn't show anyone else until you go to work and that's all. I hate to have to travel around Chicago bringing people to life because of your dress and sexiness". She giggled.

"Yeah. I should be getting to work anyways. Got a bet going that I can't get tons of John's with this dress. I'll show them". You giggled.

"You show them girl". Gabby and Shay cheerfully cheered. "She's going to give them all heart attacks". Shay whispered to Gabby.

"Oh yeah. We have our work cut out for us tonight". Gabby huffed with a laugh as they went back into the building.

The captain of the undercover unit put you on the corner of 5th and main. It was a hot spot for walkers and John's. You knew most of the girls were undercover just as you were.

Soon as it got dark the street lit up with cars more than usual. Of course you got picked first and when you got into the car he fainted so it was a easy arrest.

Luckily the whole night was easy. The John's were coming out of the wood work. Maybe someone spread the word that a hot new young thang was working and they had to get a taste but you were glad to get some of these guys off the streets. They were pure creepy.

It was around three in the morning when the van came around to pick you up. You were exhausted. Antonio said he would give you a ride home when you got to the station. You didnt know why he would have waited that long for you but you thought it was a nice jester.

"How many did you get"? Antonio clapped as you walked up the stairs.

"Seventy five guys and surprisingly four women. One had her husband with her. They were trying to spice up their marriage. I was tempted". You laughed as you plumped into your chair.

"I heard. Sorry I wasn't there".

"No I'm sorry. I shouldnt have picked out the dress that would send men into cardiac arrest".

"You're all good, Y/N. You should take it as a compliment".

"How are you and Voight"?

"We're good. Voights in his office now".

You nodded and headed to his office to see what he thought about tonight's events.

Knocking on the door he told you to come in.

"Great job. We heard it all. Excellent work". Hank proudly said.

"Thank you sir. I appreciate it". You spoke with a huge smile on your face. He was proud of you and you couldnt be more happier.

"Let's celebrate". Voight pulled out three glasses and a bottle of whiskey sitting them on the desk. Three, who else was joining us?

"Don't start the party with out me". Antonio came jogging up to the office, and closing the door behind him.

Hank poured the glasses and handed them out. "Cheers to great police work and great company". Hank winked at you. Sending your cheeks to cherry red.

"You must be tired? Why dont you take your jacket off and sit awhile"? Antonio suggested, sitting on the edge of Hanks desk. Looking you up and down as he sipped his whiskey.

"I'll leave the coat on. After what happened today I dont want that again". You shook your head.

"We're fine now. We just got a little excited that's all".

"Are you sure"? You were hesitant at first but they seemed fine now and you slowly took off your coat laying it across the back of the chair.

"You look incredible". Hank mumbled into his glass.

"Fucking hell". Antonio did the same. All eyes were on you and you felt your center become moist. You pushed your thighs together. Shooting the rest of your drink down your throat.

"Another"? Hank offered.

"Sure". You held your cup out and Hank poured you a double.

"Are you trying to get me drunk"? You snickered at the thought of Antonio and Hank getting you drunk and having their way with you. Oh God the thought made you moan deep inside. It was your biggest fantasy. No one knew but you had the biggest crush on them both. You couldnt act on it because for one Hank was your boss and Antonio was married. And I say was because now he's divorced.

"No. Just celebrating. Unless". Hank looked at Antonio.

"Unless"? You hiccuped as you finished your second drink, wipping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"We've seen the way you look at us. Undressing us with your eyes". Antonio came closer to you, bending down beside the chair that you were sitting in.

"I'm...I'm...I'm". You started to stutter. Trying to think of something. Antonio smirked and pressed his index finger over your lips.

"Shhhh. You're not the only one that has been looking and undressing". Antonio looked at Hank.

"So what shall we do about this, Y/N"?

"What do you mean"? You asked nervously.

"What I mean is, how would you like to have us. We both want you and we've came to an agreement that we'll share you if that is what you like. Is that what you want, for us to share you"? Hank got in your face licking his lips.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Your mind and body screamed. But you really had to think this through. Would it effect your job? Your friendship? What will the others think if they found out?

"Well, I uh. Yes. I want you to share me". The words shot out of your mouth without thinking for long.

"Who would you want first? We've got all night long". Hank kissed your lips, his hand tangled in your hair as he kissed your roughly. His tongue dominating yours. Antonio's hand wondered up your leg, to your thigh. Squeezing it, making you gasped into Hanks mouth.

Antonio took that as a sign to travel further up, until he could feel the heat from your mound on his fingers. He could smell your juices.

"She's not wearing panties". Hank chuckled. "That's why I fainted. I was fine until she bent over and I saw that pretty little pussy. Those puffy little lips, hiding that suckable little clit. God, you make me so hard". Hank growled as he devoured your lips once more.

Antonio gulped licking his lips as he brushed over your pussy lips. Sliding his middle finger between your slit. Your juices covering his finger. He so badly wanted to taste you but your wiggling and moaning made him keep going.

He guided his long finger into your tight little hole, wiggling it around. Until he found the spot that made your legs tremble. His thumb pressed again your clit. Rubbing it slow and gentle. Teasing you because you liked it rough.

Hank released your lips and went to your neck, sucking and licking along to your collarbone. Your breast were bulging out of your dress.

"Do you like this dress"?

"Yes". You gasped out as Anontio added another finger to your wet hole.

Hank chuckled, taking his hands and running them down your chest. Taking your dress along the way. Your nipples were hard as rocks. Hank clamped on them and squeezed and tugged on them. Making you purr. By now you were a panting withering mess under their touch. Antonio played with your pussy while Hank tongues you down and playedwith your nipples. You were so close, they could feel it.

"Aww, is baby girl going to cum for us"? Hank cooed.

"She's clenching the hell out of my fingers". Antonio grunted, he squeezed his cock through his pants.

"That's it princess. Cum for daddy". Hank attached his mouth to your breast. Suckling at your nipple while his hand pinched your free nipple.

From Antonio fingering you and rubbing your clit to Hank sucking your nipple, you couldnt take it anymore. Your knees buckled, your heart face and your body trembled as you came. Your head fell back along with your eyes. They made you come so hard at that moment. You felt your soul leave your body during your orgasm.

"Such a good girl". Hank released your nipple from his mouth with a pop and kissed your lips.

"She soaked the chair". Anontio licked his fingers as he stood up. His cock just begging to be released.

"We'll clean after she comes down. How does she taste"? Hank asked Antonio as he greedily sucked on his fingers.

"Like heaven and peaches". They both chuckled.

"Fuck. Mmmmm". You moaned, your head spinning.

"I dont think she can move. We should take her home and make sure shes okay". Antinio suggested with a smirk.

"I think that as well. You take her to the car and I'll clean up".

"Up you go little one". Antonio picked you up bridal style and walked you out the back way. A smile on your face and your body wanting more.

Hank gathered your things and cleaned up your little mess. He wanted to sneak a taste but stopped himself. He wanted to enjoy the real thing. Very soon.

Turning off the lights and heading out the door. He hopped in the car with Antonio and you. You were coming off your high.

"Let's head to my place. You're not finished with me yet. Theres so many things I want to try with you two. So many". You fell back onto the back seat with a satisfied sigh.

"We have all the time in the word". Anontio and Hank high fived each other. They didnt know you were just as freaky as they were. This was going to be the best three way relationship ever.

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pancakes-discourse · 2 years ago

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Peanut butter-chocolate cookies (Issaddaa Ekanis)

Rich, chocolatey, peanut-y, these fancy cookies surprise by getting by entirely with no flour and yet are extraordinarily quick and easy to make, if you can get all the ingredients.

This recipe is flexible and made by sight, so don’t worry about not having the exact amount of most things, your cookies will likely turn out great regardless.

R E C I P E

2 eggs

peanut butter

chocolate cream or spread, enriched with nuts or not

white sugar

salt

(optional: spices like cinnamon, vanilla or ground coriander seeds )

(optional:

Utensils:

pot or bowl for mixing

spoon or mixer

baking dish

baking paper

oven

fork or toothpick

Directions:

1. Crack eggs into a pot or bowl, mix in the peanut butter and chocolate cream. The exact amount can vary a lot, just make sure to add enough peanut butter to have a good, viscous dough at the end. Use a spoon or mixer.

2. Add plenty of sugar (at least four-five tablespoons) and mix it in well. The amount will naturally vary based on how much peanut butter and chocolate cream you added in the first step. If you added a lot, increase the amount accordingly.

3. Add salt (a pinch or two), and spices (ideally mix with an equal amount of sugar first)

4. Pour onto a pan, attempt to leave enough space between the cookies since they will likely expand horizontally. But you can also try to make one giant cookie.

5. Bake in an oven at about 180 °C or alternatively 375 °F until the edges start getting crispy and a fork or toothpick comes up clean.

H I S T O R Y

One thing I didn’t realize how even among neighbors such basic things as hospitality can differ greatly.

In Lufasa, owing to Jutic heritage, anyone receiving guests is supposed to display “restrained generosity”, i.e. to provide a warm welcome and provide enough and good food, but to avoid embarrassing or overwhelming guests it’s meant to be a limited amount more akin to a weekday dinner rather than a feast. And in turn, guests are expected to bring food to share, too, in the spirit of friendship and cooperation.

A big shock for me when moving to Gfiewistan was that if anything the visitor is the one expected to bring food, especially when visiting someone of high status, apparently originally justified as needing to honor them and showing appreciation for their "generosity", which was of course often more a claimed rather than a real thing, like the “generosity” of the Gfiewish monarchs and priests in in Lufasa during pre-revolutionary times.

After the republican revolution and the nominal abolition of titles of nobility and transition to a more openly socioeconomic class-based society this became more a display of the visitor’s status: You showed your wealth and amount of self-reliance by not relying on the food of the host, but bringing your own food with more than enough to spare for the host

The host in turn showed off their wealth by providing an impressive location, with fancy furniture, tablecloths and the food they were eating (a comparison I think would be the way you can signal your status and the kind of person you want to be seen as by ordering specific things in a restaurant)

One of the most popular foods to bring were and are cookies: easy to transport and more shelf-stable, but can be stuffed full of expensive ingredients such as eggs and flour (mostly restricted to the nobility until the industrial revolution), butter, spices, fruits (especially in the south)

As the industrial revolution cheapened flour, the ratio of flour to other ingredients changed and cookies became fattier and richer.

Peanut butter when it arrived in the 19th century from Cananganam first had the reputation of being a subpar butter replacement, but became hugely popular as ingredient once it was discovered that it worked perfectly in cookies, and so-called Cananganam Cookies (Enkananganamkos Ekanis, or short Enkananis) are still a staple of any bakery or home-baker, as peanut butter is easy to transport and supremely shelf-stable, lasting for years if properly stored, is rich and fatty, flavorful (and in an exotic way) and due to its relatively high carbohydrate content can also be used to reduce the amount of flour in cookies.

As a result, fancy cookies came to be distinguished by their relatively low flour content – even today those described as "bready" and having a lot of flour typically still might seem unusually fatty. They are popular as gifts, snacks and breakfast or travel food. The most popular cookies are buckwheat-peanut butter cookies ("Cananganam cookie") and the traditional "Juniper" cookies.

Even fancier than these peanut butter cookies are chocolate-peanut butter cookies (Issaddaa Ekanis) that do away with the flour entirely and replace it with a kind of chocolate cream, often further enriched with nuts and exotic flavoring like vanilla. They are also my favorite treat, easy to make at home and delicious to eat with friends in cafes, too.

#food #recipes #cookies #peanut butter #chocolate #gfiewistan #ystel

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srose-foxfire · 4 years ago

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Damirae Week 2021 - Day 3

A/N: Happy Damirae Canon Anniversary Day!!!

Whoo, day 3 is upon us! I hope you don't mind this prompt being particularly longer than my last two, I couldn't get myself to ‘cut-off’ some parts since I want to keep this AU storyline with the Week’s prompts. Some of the next prompts will be long as well to fit everything that needs to stay in the AU to make it run smoothly. Enjoy and see you all tomorrow for Day 4! ~~ Simona

“Joyfulness before Despair” Day 3: Holidays

It been years since the castle had ever felt alive. The end of the year celebrations had arrived at the castle. Raven busied herself to get the parlor ready to spend the New Year’s Eve with Damian and his family. After her little incident two months ago, Damian seemed to have changed and Raven had done the same. Since he has revealed himself to be a beast, Damian allowed her to venture outside the castle, and the spirits, which turned out to be Damian’s family were allowed to talk with her and not keep distance.

Dick Grayson, the eldest of all of them had explained to her what happened. Centuries ago, when Bruce had just appointed his youngest son; Damian would be the one to take his throne as the next king. A witch came to their door. Damian who had been studying and groomed by Bruce allowed the witch to rest in their castle as an honored guest. The witch thanked him and gave Damian her blessing, it wasn’t uncommon to allow visitors to take refuge in the Wayne Castle. Though the witch had another agenda, when everyone had retired to their chambers, the witch entered Prince Damian’s room, she was to slay him in his sleep. The witch didn’t count that the young prince was a skilled swordsman and so Damian easily bested her. Furious that she failed, she shrieked and announced she had been hired to bring the prince and his kingdom to ruin. Words of an ancient language spouted from her old weary lips. She cast a curse on Damian and his family. His half-siblings became spirits, binding their souls to reside forever inside the castle. As for Damian, she cursed him into a beastly form so that whoever laid eyes on him would be repulsed.

After Dick finished telling of their tale – he left out what had happened to Bruce - Raven now understood why Damian had been cold towards her. He had allowed himself to be open to a stranger, which then cost him his family’s life and his kingdom. Though she could never recall of ever hearing of the Kingdom of Gotham. Dick explained that it was a mystery as well, King Bruce Wayne was loved by many and an ally to the neighboring kingdoms. They could not understand why their people never came to their castle looking for the royal family after they been cursed.

Just then Jason, Stephanie, Cassie, Kori, and Tim came into the parlor with boxes filled with assorted candles and some golden decorations.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” Jason grumbled as he set the old box down. It fascinated Raven to see them able to handle physical objects even if they had all a ghost-like form. Tim, who considered himself quite a scholar, believed the witch may had not said her curse properly. If they put their minds to it, they could lift and carry anything if they so wished. They could even open and close doors, though floating through it was easiest.

Stephanie scoffed and placed her hands on her hips, “Seriously Jason? Have some holiday spirit, we haven’t done this in such a long time. I could almost recall when the whole castle smelled of cinnamon and spice, gosh how I miss Alfred’s cooking.”

Having heard the name for the first time, Raven couldn’t help but ask, “whose Alfred?”

Everyone became stilled and remained silent. Raven could sense that the mention of Alfred’s name had sadden everyone. Though these siblings jested and were always carrying a smile, Raven could always sense they were hiding their sadness. She could only imagine what the witch’s curse had truly taken from them. They all been so kind to her, Raven wished she could do something in return.

“A dear friend.”

Everyone turned their heads towards the doors, Dick was standing there with a silver platter, filled with assorted biscuits and brewing hot tea. He too seemed to be saddened at the mention of their friend’s name.

Raven didn’t know what to do to lively their moods, just then Jason who had busied himself to finish setting the last candles over the fireplace, cleared his throat, “I thought you were supposed to help Damian with the food?”

Shaking his head, Dick tilted hid head to the side and gave his brother a lopsided grin, “I thought I bring Raven some snacks she’s our guest-”

“Demon Spawn kicked you out, didn’t he?” Tim added while he fixed a small round table and prepared two seating arrangements. Raven couldn’t stifle a small giggle at the mention of Damian’s pet name.

“He did.” Dick grumbled.

Raven raised a brow at him. “Are you not allowed in the kitchen.”

Jason walked over and grabbed the silver tray from Dick, he then turns his gaze towards Raven. “After we were cursed, we tried helping out around the castle as much as we could, then someone had to set the kitchen on fire one morning.”

Dick was beyond annoyed and gave out a heavy sigh, signaling he was tired of being reminded of his faults. “What? I was trying to be a good older brother and prepare Damian a tasty breakfast.”

After placing the silver tray on the round-coffee table, Jason scoffed at Dick’s remark. “Tasty? You were practically cooking lumps of coal! If the curse wasn’t enough, Damian would also have to endure your horrible cooking!”

The two brothers continue to bicker, while their sisters went to complain to Tim, asking him to stop the feud. No one had noticed that Raven had left the room. She wanted to feel useful and believed she could lend Damian a hand in the kitchen. Walking down one hallway, Raven noticed the amount of work the Wayne family had put to get the castle ready for their little festivity. A week before the end of the New Year, everyone had pinched in and clean the castle from top to bottom. There were no more spiderwebs on every crevice, the walls that only appeared to held darkness were now illuminated by candlelight. Everything had been dusted off, revealing beautiful golden tapestries, vases, and marble statues of legends. The castle was truly brimming with light and happiness.

When she finally arrived at the kitchen, Raven cautiously entered. She peeked from behind the large wooden door and saw Damian moving some pans over a small fire. He looked almost as he was in his own small word. A world where only he existed. There were still things Raven wanted to speak to him about but didn’t know if she was allowed to ask.

“May I come in?”

Damian quickly turn around and his eye widen for just a moment. “Hello.” He nodded and turned around and tossed some ingredients in the air. “I apologize for the delay; I’m getting our dinner ready.”

“Let me help, just tell me what to do.”

“Very well.” Damian gave her a small yet gentle smile, he then pointed at some dough that need to be rolled out and portion to make garlic bread. They worked in silence, but every once in a while, Raven would catch herself side glancing and just admire Damian. For being a great and large beast, he was very meticulous with his work. He grabbed a kitchen knife and perfectly thinly sliced some basil leaves. Which he then tossed into a pan that seemed to have crushed tomatoes and ground beef.

“That smells delicious.”

“I hope you enjoy it, it’s a dish an old friend would prepare every year. Beef Ragu.” Damian said proudly as he grabbed a small tasting spoon and handed it to Raven to taste.

“This friend wouldn’t happen to be Alfred?” Why… why did she allowed her mouth to run off on itself? Raven hated herself for letting the name slip from her lips.

“Yes, he is.” Damian added rather nonchalantly. He continues to stir the beef ragu, “Alfred Pennyworth was my father’s royal advisor. He been a friend to the Wayne family since before my father was born. He acted like a grandfather to me, once I came to live with my father.”

“Can I ask, what happen to him… and to your father?”

“The curse affected them differently… they were turned into stone. We don’t know if their alive or gone.” Raven could notice that this hurt Damian greatly, she saw that he was trying so hard to fight off his tears. All she could do in that moment for him was wrapping her arms from behind him.

Once dinner was prepared, Damian and Raven were seated in the small round table in the parlor, they ate in silence. Raven grimaced having his siblings just lounging in the parlor and not have a bite to eat. Kori explained that they never got hungry. They could however smell the food and that was enough for them. After dinner, Dick started rambling off some nonsense and twirled around the room. Tim whispered into Raven’s ears that Dick enjoyed acting like the court jester. Kori left the room and came with assorted instruments in her hands, she gave one to each of her future siblings-in-laws and everyone started to play off-key. Damian couldn’t help but grumble and sighed heavily in his seat as he tried very hard to hide in his black cape. Raven clapped and giggled as everyone gracefully floated around the room.

~~~~~

As the festivities continued to roar inside the castle, outside was slender-hungry harpy; her feathers a dark shade of bloody red, and her body a pale ghostly white. She silently watched the cursed Wayne family frilly and dance around the fireplace with an unexpected guest. She huffed an annoyed grunt and flew off into the dark night. She flew over treetops, meadows, and valleys; until she reached the side of a long lonely mountain. There near the top of it peak was a dark cave, she screeched and flew into it. Darkness enveloped her for a few moments, then green boiling water, erupted from an old black rusty cauldron. The harpy landed next to it, tucking her winged arms to her sides.

“Show us what you found, my pet.”

From the shadows two figures emerge. The old witch that cursed the royal Wayne family and a second fellow who shielded his face with a black and orange mask. The harpy screeched and plucked one of it feathers out, placing it the cauldron. The green waters disintegrated the feather, like it fallen in a pot of acid, and then it started to swirl revealing an image in it waters. It was of the royal family prancing and laughing with one another. Then at the corner of the room stands a raven-haired maiden who reaches for the paws of the cursed prince and bring him to stand next to her. She smiles at him and urges him to dance with her. They move to the off-key music and laugh all together. The witch curses under her breath.

The masked man, the one who employed for her services centuries ago, scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t tell me if the boy falls in love then the curse will be lifted.”

Just like her harpy, the witch screeches angrily, and points her boney-old finger towards the man beside her. “You peg me for a fool? Love is a strange power, but I made sure none of my curses to ever be lifted by ‘true love’s kiss’ or ‘sacrificing oneself for love’. No this is worse, that girl, she holds magic of her own. She is the daughter of a demon and of a sorceress from Azarath. Their magic is far greater than any witch’s enchantment, she could break the curse.”

“Well then, this changes things.” The man said as he hovers over the boiling cauldron and inspected the maiden more closely. She was very beautiful, he thought to himself.

“I can have my harpy go kill-”

“No. Don’t harm the girl. I find her to be quite interesting. Daughter of a demon, you say? Well now, wouldn’t that make for a most pleasant queen to be by my side?”

#damirae week 2021 #day 3 #prompt holidays #damirae #beauty and the beast au #be our guest #Damian Wayne #dc damian #raven roth #dc raven #raven and damian #batfamily

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

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The Killing Cure (Part 12)

It’s been a hot minute but I’m back from my vacation. I mentioned on my other fic that I just got a new job so updates will still probably be slow as I now have a job on top of art fight, a zine, two other fics, and an original story. So a big thanks to everyone who sticks with this one and for all of the patience.

Out of all of the beings that roam this godforsaken Earth, humans, monsters, mutants...it is Winters. Winters who has been on her mind since she kissed him. She wishes that she could call it an impulse but is it really an impulse if she had been thinking--however loosely--about it for several days before?

She wishes that he would do something to make her irreparably mad. But he doesn’t, he only ever seems to make her feel a sense of comfort. Even now when she is cringing at the sight of herself in a pair of pants, the man stands behind her with a collection of compliments. “You look great.” He promises. “It’s going to take some getting used to, you being dressed down, but it’s nice.”

Nice. He thinks that she looks nice. It is such a simple word, so plain, ordinary. But it means everything to her. Everything when she has felt anything but nice or attractive… “I’ve looked better.” She waves the compliment off. But, by God, it has taken at least some of the edge off of her mild sense of self loathing.

Ethan shrugs. “You just have to get used to streetwear.”

She chances another look in the mirror; she supposes that it isn’t quite so horrible. The shirt is loose and breathable though the linen fabric isn’t as kind on her skin as many of her gowns are. The pants are less comfy, more restrictive than her dresses but are easier to maneuver in without tripping. And she supposes that they don’t look too unflattering on her.

She jerks when Ethan suddenly thumps her hat onto her head. He laughs at her little jolt. “Do not test me, Winters! We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Just trying to help.” He replies. “I didn’t want you to forget your favorite hat.”

He favorite hate is actually several sizes too big for her and sits draped over a chair. But with an exact replica of it, she decides that the technicalities aren’t worth mentioning. “Are my girls ready?”

“They’re your daughters, you check on them.”

.oOo.

He watches Alcina make her way out of the room. Words and hissed out promises aside, the woman has become increasingly less hostile since she’d kissed him. He smiles to himself, at least he isn’t the most awkward of the two of them anymore. At least, he isn’t alone in his conflicted, affectionate feelings.

She comes back with her daughters in tow; Bela has a grip on her left hand and Cassandra holds the left. Daniela, untethered, zips about, occasionally cutting in front of the other three before falling behind once more. The three of them are bundled up heavily, almost absurdly so. Alcina comes to a stop at the center of the room and Daniela takes the opportunity to lift her off of the ground.

“Daniela…” she grumbles through clenched teeth, “we talked about this…”

The woman cackles and puts her mother back down before bursting into a cloud of flies and rebuilding herself several feet away. Ethan has never seen anyone look less amused than Alcina in that moment. “We’re ready, Ethan.”

A jolt of adrenaline pulses through him, it is once again real. His mission is once again in sight and the dangers are once again going to be pressing. He wonders if Alcina is nervous now that illness has taken the place of a powerful mutation. She is just an ordinary woman with very basic gun skills. She gives no indication of nervousness, regardless of how she feels within.

Having grown used to the warmth of Castle Dimitrescu the cold stikes Ethan’s face as tough tendrils of the aurora borealis have reached down and coiled around his face. His is overcome by shivers, he can only imagine how the fly beasts are handling it. He doesn’t have to imagine it, one look behind him and he knows that they are recoiling. He thinks that he can hear faint crackles.

His speculation becomes knowledge when he sees the panic on Alcina’s face. Without a word of warning, she grabs all three of her daughters and, with more strength than he realized small Alcina has, ushers them back into the warmth of the castle.

Ethan follows her back inside. Her face is twisted in distress and concern, her breathing hastened. “Oh, my poor dears.” She mumbles more to herself than any of the three. “My poor little darlings…” She sandwiches Daniela’s hands between hers. “Winters, you get them some blankets, now.”

Stress pinches her tone and he elects to ignore the snappiness of her request. She holds Daniela to her chest, letting the woman drink in her body heat.

.oOo.

Were she herself she would be more efficient. She would mostly envelop Daniela until the frost retracts from her skin. Having skipped the test steps and thrown herself headfirst into the frosty outside world, the woman had taken the worst of its merciless frigidness--she is too bold for her own safety.

Alcina holds her so close--feeling the woman’s shivers and shakes--and brushes her hand over her hair. For once she finds herself thankful for her softness, it gives her an added warmth which she extends to Daniela. She has the urge to squeeze the woman but she must handle her with care, she is so terribly fragile right now.

Ethan comes back with three blankets which he wraps around Bela and Cassandra and then over Daniela’s. “Thank you, Ethan.” She murmurs as she continues to stroke Daniela’s hair. “We will have to see if the Duke will be a gentleman enough to look after my daughters while I’m gone.”

Ethan nods.

“Mother, it’s so cold.” Bela whimpers.

“It hurts.” Cassandra adds.

“I know dears, it’s going to be alright.”

“I think that I’m dying, mother.”

Alcina shakes her head, “no, Daniela. You’re going to be just fine, dear. We’ll get you nice and warm again.” She kisses the top of her head.

“I saw a deer pretty close by, I can get them some warm deer blood.” Ethan offers.

“Yes, Ethan, that would be ideal.”

With only a nod, he makes his way outside again. There is a new fluttering in her belly alongside the anxious tickles. She isn’t sure what to make of these flutters. But she knows where they come from. She watches Ethan through the window, watches him chase the deer down, likely cussing and shouting. She observes and she can’t help but let her mind wander. She barely knows him beyond the very basics. She has mostly tormented the man, mocked him. And yet he is good to her. He is kind to her girls. They aren’t even his own and yet he is fetching meals and warmth for them.

.oOo.

Ethan is completely drained by the time he gets back from his deer hunt. Physically and mentally--he can’t hold it against them, it isn’t the fault of the daughters that they can’t endure the cold. But it is still a setback. Still one more day away from finding Rose. One more day that leads her closer to a heinous sort of death.

He leaves the deer on the table, decidedly the girls can eat it raw and he can fix himself and Alcina a meal. Or perhaps she’d be willing to do the cooking this time. He opens his mouth to call for the daughters but the flies are already gathering. Three identical swarms that take shape.

“Where’s your mother?” He asks at the shaping of Cassandra.

The girl shrugs, “either the kitchen, having a bath, or the bedroom.”

“I’ll check the kitchen.” He knows that she is there before he reaches it. He isn’t exactly sure what she is cooking but she has added what smells like an overabundance of spice.

“What are we cooking?”

“I am cooking soup.” Alcina sets a bowl on the table. “Just a little recipe that Donna showed me.”

“She really loves her spices.”

Alcina shakes her head, “I like spices. Donna cooks her food quite bland. Donna favors simplicity.”

“Your daughters seem like they are recovering well.”

She sighs, “they should be in bed resting.” She clicks her tongue. “I can never get them to rest well. Daniela wakes up and then all three of them are awake.”

Ethan laughs, “sounds about right, kids are just like that no matter how old they get.” He pauses, “do you need rest?”

Alcina thinks for a moment, “I will be fine for now. The medications are working quite sufficiently.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You sound unhappy.”

“I was hoping to be well on our way to find Rose.” He sees the vexation flash across her face but before she can rave at him he adds, “it’s...fine, it isn’t their fault. Just frustrating circumstances.” This answer seems to placate the woman. She silently continues eating her soup. He has to admit that it isn’t bad at all. Perhaps a little strong for his tastes but he is just thankful that he didn’t have to cook this time. “You don’t seem all too happy either.” He comments after pushing his bowl aside.

Alcina stares into her empty soup bowl. “I’m afraid of losing my girls. Today was a reminder of just how easily it can happen. They’ve been in more danger lately than they have been in, in years…” She stands and beckons for him to follow. Once upon a time, perhaps only a week or so ago, he would have hesitated. This time he trails closely behind her.

“I have a feeling that everyone will be too preoccupied trying to kill us to go after them.” He shrugs. He supposes that that isn’t all too reassuring. He is surprised to see her smile slightly and nod in agreement. There is something comforting about her willingness to die in place of her daughters, to put herself in danger to keep it far away from them. Humanity, he realizes. And he realizes too, that she would have done the same prior to his arrival. Humanity in a woman who, at that point, hadn’t been human in so long.

He watches her climb onto her bed. She gives a rather dramatic sigh and mutters, “I should make sure that my girls are…”

“I can get them into bed.” He doesn’t allow for protest. Rather, he slips out of the room and herds the three of them into their room.

“Do we get another bedtime story, Winters?” Bela asks.

“I wasn’t planning--”

“We need a story to sleep.” Daniela insists. “Mother always reads to us.”

And thus he finds himself suckered into reading them to sleep a second time. Alcina, he finds, has nodded off in his absence and jolts awake at his sudden reappearance. She grumbles something, that he can’t quite catch, about knocking first. “Sorry.” He mouths. Truth be told, he isn’t sure why he has come back to her room instead of going to the guest bedroom. “They’re all tucked in and read to.”

The smile she gives him this time is much softer than usual, sleepier too. It is pleasant, inviting. He finds himself wondering, again, who she had been before the mutation. What she had been like prior to Mother Miranda. She pats a spot on the bed next to her.

“Thank you for caring for my girls. They can be...difficult to manage when it is just me.”

“You’re…” he feels her weight shift onto him. “You’re welcome.” He chances holding her with his right arm. When she doesn’t jerk away or protest, he strokes her hair, trying to ease her stress away. He thinks that it is working.

It must be... She said it wouldn’t happen again, he knew that she was lying, he just didn’t expect her to stray from her promise so soon; she kisses his neck. And when she closes her eyes and rests her head against him, her curls tickle his neck. He holds his hand against her cheek--he supposes that he will be spending another night in her company. A night with her in his arms.

#Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Ethan Winters #Alcina/Ethan #Fanfiction

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with-love-anu · 4 years ago

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The reading nook

PAIRING: Loki x Reader

Sighing, you set up the last stack of books into its case. Why could people not learn to keep the things where they picked it from? “The Reading Nook“ was a library cum bookstore you inherited from your father. It was a cute little shop present just by the corner of a street next to a café. You had a bunch of loyal customers and a bunch of college students who were always in and out. That still left you with a lot of time and in those moments, you drew. The doorbell tinged as a young man with long raven hair came in. You recognized him immediately. How could you not? They were all over the news. You didn’t let that fact deter you. You greeted him with your customary smile.

“Hello! Is there something I could help you with?” you said as he looked at you.

“No, I’ll be good. Can you just point me towards a place where I would not get disturbed?” he asked as you nodded. You pointed towards the farthest couch behind a shelf. He strode towards it without sparing you another glance. You shook your head getting back to your own desk. You worked on your latest piece, getting up to help some customers when needed. It was just around closing time when Loki strode up to you and bought a book and left without another word.

You sighed. It had been a long day.

***

The god continued to come at your little library almost daily. He would move to the corner sit there all day long and leave near the closing time. Sometimes he would buy a book or two, or a new pen or diary you’d put on display. It was quiet. You never quite expected him to be such, being a literal prince in his own world. But then again, he always dressed as if he was ready to meet the queen. You guessed the things he went through rather quieted him. There was always so much emotion in his dark green eyes, you often got lost in them while he talked to you. You hoped he didn’t notice. You had the unexplainable urge to sketch him, only to chastise yourself for thinking so.

There was a sound at the door and you turned to see Mr. Wron. You clenched your eyes shut before moving towards him. He was a nightmare.

“Hello Mr. Wron. How can I-“ you started as he just raised his hand in an indication to stop. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I would like some history books on the Nazi Period.” He demanded.

“Of course.” You said leading him to the place where the god sat. He didn’t even notice you both coming. Or rather, ignored you. You busied yourself taking out a number of books to show Wron. He was never quite pleased with anything.

“Ho ho ho! Aren’t you the monster who tried and failed to take over the earth?” his nasty voice came as you felt a chill run down your spine. You turned to look at them. Loki pretended not to listen to what was just said and was still immersed in his book. You tried to divert the situation.

“Mr. Wron, here are the boo-“ you said as he scoffed.

“How dare you let such filth enter this bookstore!” he said as you felt an unexplainable anger wash over you.

“MR. WRON! I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. Now, would you like any of these books before leaving?”

“You’re defending him?”

“I very much am. Now if you’ll cho-”

“Oh please! I’m your biggest donator, I have a say in what happens in this shop.”

“Mr. Wron we’ve never begged you to donate anything. I decide what happens here and I’ve decided that Mr. Loki would stay.” You said seething. You couldn’t let him get away with what he said. Loki had done nothing wrong, it had been explained several times over the television and if he was even a bit of the cruel person everyone deemed him to be he wouldn’t have helped you keep back every book the other day. You already had enough of this man taunting you at everything you did.

“Well then, I wouldn’t hesitate to stop my monthly fee.” He said glaring at you.

“That’s your own wish, now take your damn book and leave.” You said as he stalked closer to you. You thought he would hit you but a hand stopped him. You turned to see Loki grabbing his hand putting it away.

“She said leave.” He said furiously as your mouth dried. Mr. Wron cowered and shot you a nasty glance before leaving, slamming the door behind him. You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry about that.” You said as the god scrutinized you.

“You didn’t do anything.” He said calmly. “Is he a partner in holding this store?”

“No, but he donates a huge amount which keeps things smooth. It’s my parent’s library.”

“I see.”

He moved to sit back on the couch and you bit your lip contemplating how to thank him for saving you.

“What do you want to say?” he asked, not looking up from his book.

“Thank you… for saving me.” You breathed as he looked up at you with a stoic expression, nodding. You sighed, going back to your desk.

***

Your eyes widened as you re-read the email the bank sent to you.

“The Stark industries has made a donation of $10,000 to the ‘The Reading Nook’”

It cannot be. That would cover every pending payment of the shop. You pinched yourself to remind yourself this all was real. You had been struggling so much to make ends meet and losing Mr. Wron had affected the finances more than you’d care to admit. There was a bell at the door as the familiar god strode in. He went straight towards his spot as you opened and closed your mouth thinking about what you would say. You went towards him hesitantly as he looked through the shelves for yet another book. Your heart was already jumping up and down at a miraculous pace.

“Mr. Loki-“

“Just Loki, please. I never quite understood midguardian terms of reverence.” He said as you nodded.

“Loki. You didn’t have to. I was-“ you started as he turned towards you.

“This is the most bearable shops in this place. I wanted to.” He said as you just hugged him tightly. You had been relieved so much by the news and couldn’t. He smelled of mint and spice. You sighed, feeling yourself relax.

“Thank you so so much. This shop means the world to me and I don’t know if I could repay you.” You mumbled as Loki stood frozen. He cleared his throat.

“You could by not squeezing the air out of me.” He said as you shook yourself, pulling back at once. Loki didn’t seem to like the loss of contact.

“Thank you.” You said one last time, before scurrying off. You knew he liked to be left alone.

Loki looked at your retreating figure. He hadn’t expected you to be so humble. A small smile overtook his features. No-one here had ever talked to him like he was normal, and you’d always done that. Defending him from the man who helped your shop grow? It had warmed his heart. Perhaps not everyone on this planet was selfish.

***

Loki frowned at the small parcel you held before him.

“I really wanted to thank you. I know it’s not much. But, really, I could not be more grateful. I’ve been told I’m quite good at baking so…” You said handing him the packet. He took it cautiously peering inside to find a small cake box containing brownies and a black leather bound diary and a sleek pen. Exactly how he liked his stationery. He gulped before looking at you again.

“Thank you for this generous present (Y/n).” he said softly as your eyes widened a little. Your heart fluttered at the way it sounded coming from him.

“You know my name?” you asked as the god rolled his eyes.

“I hear it being shouted by all kinds of customers who come here. And you’re quite a lady” He said as you tried hard not to blush more.

“I’ll go then.” You said in a squeaky voice, leaving. Loki tried hard not to slap himself. You’re quite a lady?

***

Something shifted after that. Silence turned into small talks and eventually actual conversations. It was mostly you who talked, him who listened. You always felt like you would bore him but he held on to each of your word. When you would ask him about his, he would usually tell something about ‘useless’ missions and Stark and the other avengers. You would lightly smile at it thinking how different your two worlds were, yet Loki made it seem like nothing. Very rarely he would tell you about Asgard, you’d be patient so as to not push him. He would tell you how his mother taught him magic. You always looked at him in awe of how he held himself, how many stories he had to share.

You took him to the café next door to have him try coffee and other delights. He had raised an eyebrow at the drink and had commented something about Midgaurdians needed energy boosts all the time as you’d rolled your eyes. You, for a fact knew that he quite loved baked goods. Still, you kept going out to the minimum because of the number of stares you’d get from people who would point at the two of you. You understood his decision of staying cooped up in a far corner. You’d bring him lunch along with yours, a thing that touched him to the core. You would often bake him cookies, knowing how much he loved them.

You yawned adding some last shades to your drawing. Vishnu: the hindu god of life. You had been studying Indian art for quite some time and were mesmerized. You had to try it yourself. There was a cough as you looked up to see Loki standing at the desk awkwardly.

“I’ve finished the collection there and am quite bored to start a new one. Why don’t you entertain me by showing me your art? I’ve seen you working on it far too many times.” He said as you stifled a giggle.

“I would hardly call my art entertaining.” You teased as he rolled his eyes. You bit your lip. You weren’t a great fan of showcasing your art but something told you, showing Loki wouldn’t be so bad. You handed him the book carefully, your heart thumping as he looked at each passing piece.

“You have quite a talent.” He whispered looking at the latest work. You flushed.

“My mother taught me how to draw. She was a great artist herself.” You said as something flicked in his eyes.

You looked at him as he smiled. You knew it was genuine. It wasn’t the smirk he gave people.

“I would love to draw you.” You blurted, not being able to help yourself. Loki’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Me?” he said as you nodded.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

***

Loki sat in a visible couch for the next few days so you could see him easily. As you drew him slowly, you wondered whether it was an excuse to blatantly stare at him. He was beautiful, there was no doubt in that. Black, dark locks licking his cheekbones which were as sharp as a knife. Pink soft looking lips, and pale skin. He was soft yet cutting at the same time. But his eyes were what had captured you the most. You flushed as he looked at you.

Loki had found it difficult to concentrate on his book when you studies him like that. He tried not to let a pink blush cover his cheeks to match the fluttering of his heart. Loki looked at you wrapping up.

A few strokes and it was done. You sighed looking at your final work. A pathetic attempt at capturing something so real and full of emotions. You saw Loki coming towards you and felt nervous again. He would want to see it. You had not let him even glance at the unfinished work no matter how much he tried or pouted. It had proven to be difficult. You just handed him the book, before finally having the courage to look at him. He stared at it with an un-readable expression. Your mind was numb imaging all the things he might be thinking.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered at last looking at you as you felt all air leave your lungs. You didn’t know what got over you. You moved up and pressed your lips against his, pulling back quickly, realizing what you were doing. You looked at Loki with pleading eyes wishing you didn’t push him away. Loki cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled to kiss you again. His lips devoured you as you felt your mind zoom. All the emotions raging you for months coming out all together. It was like you were on fire. You pulled back to breathe, pressing your forehead against his chest. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Are you sure you want this, love?” He whispered as you wrapped your hands around him looking at him. He stared at you so softly, you felt like you could melt.

“I cannot wish for anything better.” You whispered back.

A/N: Ahahaha my very first Loki fic and it’s pure fluff! Tell me what you think!

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #marvel #loki fanfiction

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ohdaim · 4 years ago

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april fool's day oneshot

hi guys, i wrote this today in one sitting, and it's lazily edited:) i'm recovering from an oral surgery and on strong medication, so i hope this makes as much sense as i think it does.

Ship: Ignis Scientia/female reader Summary: You are a Citadel valet working the night shift, frequently attending to Ignis' car. You have no idea how to talk to him. He has no idea how to ask for your number. Words: 1849 idk if this is considered fluff or just mutual pining but with like,, idiots

Stir together bread crumbs, garlic, parsley…

You scanned the rest of the newest recipe on your favorite cooking blog, Feeding The Fussy. As always, it looked delicious. As always, you rated it five stars and typed out a comment.

I followed the recipe exactly, but I left out the bread crumbs and cheese. I used shrimp and bacon grease instead. Terrible recipe. Won’t make again.

Putting your phone away, you came to attention when someone stepped out of a Citadel elevator across the lobby. You worked night shift as a palace valet and hardly saw anyone but for a few regular night owls. One of them approached now, and gods, you were nervous all of a sudden.

Ignis was your favorite regular. He was polite, tipped well, and made small talk so you wouldn't have to. You didn’t know what he did in the Citadel or why he so often left at four in the morning. You just knew you had a big crush on him and, for that reason, could never carry a full conversation without getting sweaty palms.

“Good morning.” He greeted you first. “Quiet night?”

You nodded, entering the info you needed to check his vehicle out of the system. You wanted to say something, anything. Nerves got the best of you, and you excused yourself into the back room to get his car keys. On your way out, you held them up. “I’ll have your car here momentarily.”

Ignis didn’t respond. He wasn’t even looking at you. His attention was on his phone, a corner of his mouth curled upward.

You paused, taking in the smirk with shy curiosity. That was a new look. What was he smirking at? When he seemed to remember himself, he schooled the look and met your eyes. Startling, you repeated yourself quietly and went through the doors leading to the parking garage.

Ignis’ car consistently smelled like coffee wrapped in leather. Your phone vibrated in your pocket as you buckled in. Because you wanted to linger in the nice scent--was this extremely weird? Yes, of course--you checked to see what the buzzing was about.

An email. You’d gotten a reply from the Feeding The Fussy chef. They’d liked your comments in the past but hadn’t addressed your obvious jokes. You stared at the subject line for a beat, then opened the message.

Thank you for the review. Almost as insightful as last week’s eight hundred word description of your current diet and how my recipes conflict. Do you have any suggestions on how to improve this one?

Your nervousness grew so heavy, it burst in bright red over your face, a flame in your chest. The chef was talking to you. You’d chalked it up to luck that they understood your sense of humor and the intent of your comments. Never had you thought they’d give more than a like. You typed a response before getting back to work.

Pro tip: Using a microwave is faster than the oven. Also, I’ve begun a new diet (details to follow), so is there any way to make this recipe without the ingredients?

Ignis’ car was fancy but less so than most others in the garage. You always felt a pinch of regret when pulling it up to the lobby entrance. Driving a car like his just to see how fast it could go, it wasn’t something you’d ever get to do. You didn’t own one yourself, and truthfully, you'd only gotten a driving license to be qualified for this job. Getting out, you waved at Ignis and extended an arm toward the open driver’s seat.

Tip passing from his hand to your own, you bowed and tucked the money into a pocket. He thanked you, getting into his car. You waited for him to drive away, likely the last person you’d see this shift.

“Ah, pardon me,” Ignis startled you by climbing back out, the car door hanging open. He held something out to you. “I believe you dropped this.”

You looked at your phone in his hand, your eyes wide, nervousness becoming embarrassment. Quickly grabbing it, you bowed again. “Sorry.”

Ignis chuckled. “It’s quite alright. Good thing I noticed when I did.”

Nodding emphatically, you wished he’d just go before you humiliated yourself further.

Clearly not reading your mind, he lingered a moment longer. “In truth, I--”

“Have a good day, sir.” You didn’t mean to interrupt him and hadn’t expected him to say more.

He cleared his throat and smiled. “Same to you.” Thanking you again, by name this time, he left.

Back in the quiet lobby, you put his tip with the rest you’d made that night. You sat behind the desk and buried your face in your hands. The sting of feeling stupid in front of Ignis was abated by the underlying excitement that came from talking to the chef you admired.

They specialized in meals for picky eaters, which you were. They used clear directions, so they could be followed by an amateur chef, which you really were. They sometimes added personal anecdotes spiced with sarcasm and dry jokes to the recipe’s background, which made you feel safe to comment. You refrained from checking your inbox, content to wait until you were home to see if they’d replied yet.

Two attendants arrived for the day shift, and as you hitched the strap of your bag over a shoulder, readying to leave, one of them told you to wait.

“You should pick up a new nametag before your next shift.”

Glancing down at your uniform, you remembered you’d lost yours several days ago. “Oh, right. I will.”

You stepped into an elevator, pressing the button for the metro station level. New nametag. Dumb. You had your work badge but still required a tag. How else would the Citadel inhabitants know who to thank for fetching their expensive cars? You rolled your eyes at the thought, already annoyed. You’d have to come to work early to pick it up. Was it too soon to quit and attend culinary school? You needed to make a bit more money first. Ignis tipped large bills, but still, it’d take years of picking his car up every morning before you could afford tuition.

Grinning to yourself, you weaved through the incoming morning crowds and boarded a train home. It had felt nice, hearing Ignis say your name on his way out. He was the only person who ever addressed you, so maybe getting a new tag was worth it for that alone. Ignis was just-- He truly-- You really liked when he came down, that was all.

It didn’t strike you for another several hours, as you filled out the online request for a new Citadel employee nametag, that Ignis must’ve remembered your name. You supposed a great memory was probably just another part of his polite demeanor. That’s what you told yourself, at least, to keep your crush from growing. You didn’t even know the man.

You attempted the chef’s latest recipe, and as it cooled, you--very casually and not nervously at all--checked to see if they’d replied.

I’ll keep that tip in mind. As for your question, I recommend the following replacement recipe: brew a cup of coffee or tea, sit somewhere comfortable, and enjoy the beverage knowing your comments haunt me whenever I cook.

You read and reread the message, then laughed into a hand. Worth the wait. You ate a bite directly from the dish on your counter, huffing through the fresh heat with mild regret. They deserved a genuine review after such honesty, but it seemed you were doing little more than burning the roof of your mouth. So you took a picture of the food, offering a thumbs up with one hand in frame, and sent it as a reply.

The next night you worked, Ignis arrived much earlier than expected--before midnight, no less. He was coming in rather than going out. Another man was with him, someone blonde and unfamiliar. Ignis opened the back to retrieve something, turning you down when you offered to get it for him. The blonde man, his smile sincere but awkward, complimented your shoes.

“Thanks.” You didn’t really know what to say. People chatting with you was uncommon.

“They match your uniform’s tie… thing.” The blonde man was red in the face. Someone needed to tell him he didn’t have to make small talk. You were just a valet. He persisted, his smile broad. “It’s nice, y’know. You’re, like, coordinated and stuff.”

“Prompto.” Ignis closed the back and proffered a piece of luggage toward the other man. “Leave her be.” When the man took the bag from him, Ignis gave you the car keys. “I apologize for my friend. He can’t contain himself around beautiful women. Add inebriation, and he’s a lost cause.”

You gripped the keys tightly, taking in everything with a slow nod. Yes, of course, right. All of that made sense. Ignis was bringing a drunk friend into the palace. Normal Ignis stuff.

“Do you think Cor’s gonna be mad at me?” the blonde asked Ignis, walking backwards from the car toward the lobby doors. “Iggy, what if Cor gets mad at me?”

Ignis rolled his eyes, a hand checking his inner jacket. “A tad late to worry about that. Go directly to the barracks and try to sleep it off.”

“Where are the barracks again?”

Ignis’ chest broadened with a sigh, and he left the guy hanging. Withdrawing a money clip, he held it out to you. “For your trouble.”

You hesitated taking it. The outer bill appeared to be 1,000 yen, and it was several notes thick… More than the usual tip. You took it slowly, fingertips brushing his leather covered palm, and murmured a quiet thanks.

Ignis remained, his hand lifting to brush loose strands of hair out of his face. He wasn’t as put together as you were used to. Your eyes trailed downward, now noticing the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Huh.

He cleared his throat and began, “There’s something I--”

“C’mon, Iggy!” The blonde man held one of the entrance doors wide open. “If I knew Cor was gonna be mad anyway, I would’ve stayed at Noct’s.”

Ignis gave you a hasty farewell, already walking away to push the blonde man through the door. They disappeared inside, leaving an awkward wake of silence. You settled into Ignis’ coffee-and-leather scented car, a realization hitting you late, as they tended to do. Had Ignis implied you were beautiful? You didn’t entertain the thought for long. Ignis was a professional, royal something-or-other. He would never. You were reading too much into it. Surely.

On the walk from Ignis’ parking spot back to the lobby, you checked for the latest message from the chef. You’d boldly given them your number in a DM when the comment thread became unbearably long. You hadn’t held out hope of receiving a message and read their initial text at least ten times in disbelief before responding and saving the number.

Was this a new friendship? You hoped so.

#ignis scientia/reader #ignis scientia #ffxv fanfiction #daim writes #lmao do recipe sites even have direct messaging idk #this thing doesn't have a title #it was supposed to be about a prank but i am in fact the fool #anyway i love you guys please take this #i'm going to rest now aaaaaaaaaaaa

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

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Last Resort - chapter 1

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents' home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :')

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Hi! I was really into writing something, like really, really hyped, but then couldn't find anything that would make me go "yaaas!". So I thought of just giving up, until I somehow vaguely recalled I wrote this small one shot about two exes falling back in love in parents' house, and just sort of thought: oh yeah. Angst, good. Could add some horny. Good. Let's try. So here we are. Trying. It's not exactly deep or anything. I just needed to get this out of my system :') And it's not like I can't write anything else but AUs... ha.

Unbetad!

Sometimes Newt felt like the world was against him in literally any kind of situation. Once he decided to commit to something, a sudden force worked against him immediately, completely ruining the plan, or at least derailing his confidence in it. For about a year he thought that maybe it was the Universe giving him signs, for another year it felt like a karmic backslash and this year he settled on the fact he was just being despised by whatever higher force was in charge.

Although last year wasn’t as bad, really, until November 12th on dot. If it was about to be documented anywhere, he was just getting out of his shower, quite sleepy already, in rather calm, peaceful mood, once his phone dinged with a new message and he, without knowing the consequences of reading it, opened it. Even though it had Thomas as a sender - he thought later it should have deterred him from ruining the night for himself. Yet, his stupid lizard brain just clicked on it, blissfully unaware.

ThomAss - [23:14] – This is a life-or-death matter, you HAVE TO help me out D:

Newt - [23:15] – HAVE TO even.

ThomAss - [23:16] – YES. Please. I’m ready to beg too, that’s how desperate I am!

Newt - [23:17] – Hmm. Tempting. On your knees?

ThomAss - [23:18] – It’s negotiable.

Newt - [23:19] – Might think about it. Go on.

ThomAss - [23:20] – I need you to come home with me. I mean to my parents’ home.

Newt - [23:21] – What…?

ThomAss - [23:22] – It’s an emergency. They’re being persistent, so I need to bring somebody over.

Newt - [23:24] – I don’t follow?

ThomAss - [23:25] – Somebody I’m dating, that is.

Newt - [23:26] – Yeah, no.

ThomAss - [23:27] – Pleaaaaaaaaaase! T^T

He refused to admit he was fuming when he tossed his phone on the mattress and ignored how it beeped several times with new messages. There was no bloody way he’d go all smiling into Thomas’ parent’s house and pretend they were dating when they broke up three years ago in bad blood and it took them over two years to recover enough to be able to at least talk in a civil way. Sure, these past few months were sort of… better than the rest, though Newt didn’t really know if there was a reason, or they just let go of the grudge.

Well, partially let go, at least Newt’s was still lightly festering sometimes, on bad days when he was stupid enough to let his guard down and remind himself of it.

His phone beeped three more times and then the silence of his flat got sliced to pieces by the obnoxious ringtone he put in spite to Thomas’ contact two years ago. They weren’t calling each other, so there was no way he’d hear it at any point back then, but now, when the sound filled his home, he had a fleeting thought of smashing the phone to pieces instead.

“I said no,” he answered anyway, cold enough for Thomas to definitely get shivers on the other side of the line.

“Newt, please, I beg you,” Thomas didn’t even bother with greetings and whined like a five-year-old. “You can’t possibly be that cruel, can you?”

“Minho,” Newt gritted out. “Why not him?”

“He’s in England! Drinking tea! He’d throw me off the Big Ben if I interrupted his super-secret-date-everybody-knows-about!” Thomas responded frantically and Newt pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Fine, he had a point, probably, Minho would rage at him if he tried to drag him back shit like this. He planned the totally-not-a-date for months, never introduced the person and then disappeared. Everyone knew why, but they didn’t know to who.

“Teresa.” Another possibility, and Thomas’ groaned into the speaker.

Oh, so he already asked her, and she turned him down. Not to mention…

“Brenda?”

Another groan.

“For fuck’s sake,” Newt had to force himself not to throw the phone against the wall. “Have you literally asked everyone and I’m the bloody last resort?”

“Sort of?” Thomas piped and Newt refused to acknowledge how it stung weirdly.

Am I being hypocritical?

It wasn’t like he was willing to go anyway, but somehow his pride didn’t like it. And his pride was a bitch, he knew, and had the power to overwrite his common sense.

“Look, it’s just…” Thomas sighed into the phone. “…embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” the blond repeated. He would say uncomfortable maybe, but embarrassing? “What is bloody embarrassing about it? I’ve heard you snore and fart and throw up and come, and you think this is embarrassing?”

“This is embarrassing!” Thomas whined like couldn’t hear the naked truth and Newt shook his head. They had their history, and it wasn’t just a week short fling. They lived together for three years and dated for seven, there honestly couldn’t be much of an embarrassment present anymore.

Although maybe yes, after three years of barely talking.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled after, dropping a towel he was drying his hair with on the bed. “How’s this even a question, can you just tell them you’re single? Or. I don’t know, that the person you date had other business to attend to?”

“No,” Thomas answered immediately. “I can’t and I won’t. You act like you don’t know them, they’re onto me.”

“Cuz you’re a liar?” Newt tilted his head to the side and Thomas grumbled.

“Am not, okay.”

“So where’s your significant other that can’t attend?”

“On the phone right now, being difficult. Obviously,” Thomas delivered without ounce of shame and if he was standing right in front of Newt, he would have one in his face. “Look, I didn’t want to ask you, cuz of course it’s kinda weird, since my parents already know you and all.”

Of course he would rather bring Teresa or Brenda over, Newt thought and the bitterness surprised him.

“Well, at least they wouldn’t be as shocked,” he said in response, pushing the wave of reminiscing back down. “Imagine Minho, he would probably tear the place apart.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t break up with Minho,” Thomas reminded him, keeping the sombre tone despite Newt trying to lighten the situation.

“You don’t say,” he said instead. “And?”

“And they know we did,” Thomas continued. “So it’s gonna be awkward, you know.”

“Can imagine, yes,” Newt didn’t want to play dumb. “I already told you no though, so there’s no reason to torture yourself with the what if.”

“When did I ever want anything this important from you though!” The whine was back, and Newt sucked in a sharp breath.

“You want me to make you a list? Or would a text suffice.”

“I told you I’d beg on my knees, right? I will. I’m ready to go to your place right now and kneel for the whole night if that’d please you,” Thomas shot back, sounding too serious for Newt’s liking. His neighbours would hate him if Thomas spent the night in front of his door on his knees, serenading him just to make him cave in.

“For fuck’s sake, for how long am I going to be pretending I love your stupid face again then?” he growled unhappily and Thomas on the other side let out a small laugh.

“Well, mum said a weeklong vacation, but I’m sure like three days would be enough to sate her craving for whatever she actually craves when she forces me to do this,” he dropped like a week wasn’t a death sentence or could pose an actual problem with Newt’s remaining vacation days. Which was not. But Thomas didn’t know that.

“I know you have vacation days left, since you always hoard them,” Thomas immediately added like he could read his mind and Newt couldn’t stop the curse leaving his mouth. “It’s not so bad, right? Countryside, fresh air, great food and for free.”

“For the cost of my sanity, but sure, for free,” Newt grumbled and padded to the table to boot up his notebook. “When?”

“I’d pick you up on this Friday at 3? Work or home, your pick.” There was an obvious relief in Thomas’ voice and Newt kind of wanted to remind him they still broke up and barely talked to each other for two and half years, so it was not going to be a walk in a park at any point, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I work till 4,” he uttered while opening his e-mail and started to write a request for vacation. “So something past 4 in front of my workplace should be fine.”

“Four? Since when?” came a question and Newt rolled his eyes. “It used to be 3 max.”

“Three years ago, sure,” Newt decided to overlook Thomas’ weird habit of keeping shit like this memorized. “Things changed.”

“You work longer for the same pay?” Thomas guessed and Newt scoffed.

“I’m not an idiot, okay,” he commented sternly. “I got promoted. So I go to work a bit later, but work till later too.”

“Aaah,” Thomas voiced. “That’s pretty cool. Congratz.”

Year and half late, but I guess it’s the thought that counts. He just hummed.

“Then four it is,” Thomas got back on track easily. “Thanks, Newt. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You don’t know what it will cost ya yet, don’t be so happy about it,” Newt said grumpily. “I don’t work for free.”

“How’s pleasant company and free accommodation and full inclusive not enough for you? You spoiled little bitch,” Thomas faked an offended tone and Newt rolled his eyes.

“Pleasant company is questionable, since you’re going to be there,” he shot back, more out of habit than with an actual spiteful intent. “But I guess your family will do.”

“Oof, alright,” it didn’t take anything from the cheerful tone of his, “you can send me a bill after. Fucking high maintenance as always, aren’t you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Newt chirped and hung up. The moment he sent the mail to his boss he immediately regretted it.

***

Friday came so fast Newt barely noticed the week whooshing past him, and suddenly it was 3:50, he was basically done with his workload for the day, his weeklong vacation got a green light and a bag with his things was sitting mockingly on his table, reminding him he was an idiot who just liked to make himself miserable.

Thomas was already texting him since morning to not forget to pack undies like he was a mastermind of great humour and Newt’s eyes lingered a bit too long on a kitchen knife when he was packing yesterday.

But then again, Thomas’ mum definitely had much better cutlery, so the variety of murder weapons just multiplied.

He pointedly ignored how his stomach lurched at the sight of Thomas at his car in casual clothes and unzipped jacket like it was spring (the -4 degrees disagreed with him, and especially with Newt’s complete lack of proper thermoregulation), actually having a pleasant expression on his face Newt last seen… well, long time ago. He took Newt’s bag and put it in the boot of the car with such nonchalance Newt almost believed his parents might be tricked into thinking they really got back together, how smooth and easy he made it look. Newt refused to ruin it with sarcasm, so he just got into the passenger seat and let Thomas get them on the road.

“You know Christmas is still a month away, right?” Thomas commented once Newt got rid of his coat and scarf, since the car was warm inside, and tossed it onto the back seat, before putting on the seatbelt.

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t like the smile Thomas had on his lips. He was going to nag, for sure.

“Just that you’re wrapped like a present,” came an expected comeback. “How many layers you even have? You took all of your winter clothes on?”

“Stuff it,” the blond glared at him. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s not that cold though?” Of course Thomas wouldn’t let it go.

“Just cuz you circulate lava and not blood doesn’t mean others do too,” Newt’s glare intensified. “Like it’s something bloody new I’m cold as fuck all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s really not,” his companion shrugged with self-satisfied smirk and Newt wanted to stomp on the brake and just get out of the car. Why did he agree again?

Prick.

What even made him so happy? Still didn’t realize how many faked smiles he’s going plaster on his face through the stay? Or he didn’t care?

“What are we going to tell them?” he asked instead to bring them closer to the problem, since the resolution was only three hours’ drive away. He wouldn’t admit it, but since he agreed to help with this clownery, he couldn’t stop thinking about what to tell the people he genuinely liked and didn’t want to lie to. He could almost forget how rare it was to stay alone with Thomas these days – or months – or years – without an urge to strangle the brunet every time he got close and opened his mouth, when they were sitting in the car so peacefully now.

It was calm but utterly bitter.

The bitterness, Newt thought, was probably still the remnant from three years ago. Maybe not as vicious, but still accompanying him after all these years, every time they saw each other. The first year was catastrophic, the second they both calmed down a bit, and the third they actually managed to lead a normal, reasonable conversation with minimum insults.

Newt wasn’t shy to admit he missed his ex during quiet moments of his life; somehow. He was especially prone to it during his birthday, somehow spending the passing years without Thomas’ company hurt, despite the bad parting. Talking with Thomas with more ease was nostalgic. But his brain always helpfully supplied it was not going to last because they were still the stupid, broken up them deep down.

Not to mention pretending to be lovers just to get Thomas’ parents off his back was lame as fuck. He had no idea why he agreed. Maybe he was lame too.

“I don’t know. We bumped into each other on a party and made out in a closet,” Thomas responded, the smile finally falling off, his eyes glued to the road before him. “And decided to try it again.”

“Ugh.”

“What, you have a better idea?” Thomas shot him a look and Newt snorted.

“We managed to talk normally again and realized we’re still in love with each other?” he offered, just to piss him off. “Since, you know, it happens to normal people?”

“What, sex in the closet does not?” There was that annoyance in Thomas’ voice again Newt knew so well. They usually talked to each other like that – annoyed, nagging, angry, and it wasn’t hard to fall back into it.

“Probably to you,” he averted his eyes from his companion and watched the passing scenery instead. “But I’m not that easy.”

“That’s true,” he heard Thomas whisper, more to himself, and rather buried himself lower into the seat. The fact their intimate life sucked the last month they were together hadn’t been a secret and Newt was very much aware it just sped up the fall of their relationship. But at that point it all felt wrong, and the last thing Newt had wanted was having angry sex, or sex out of obligation, or basically anything intimate without enjoying the other person’s company. Because they sure weren’t enjoying each other for some time already.

Thomas didn’t like it. And he was pretty open about not liking it. But then again, so was Newt.

And then they broke up. It was outside during Christmas, under the lit-up tree on the city square, and Newt still considered it the most unpleasant memory of his life. They were furious, both of them, and the breakup was inevitable, but when it finally came, it wasn’t an explosion full of shouting or accusing as he expected.

Nope, it was quiet, cold and devastating. Seven years down the drain, just like that.

“Let’s go with your version,” he heard Thomas saying roughly. “It happens.”

“Yeah,” he piped, closing his eyes.

In fairy tales.

***

“Oh my god, I knew it!”

It was the first thing that hit them both when the door to the house opened and Thomas’ mother ran out, shrieking like a siren while going straight to Newt and almost suffocated him in an embrace. “I knew you two would get back together, I knew it!”

“There goes the surprise,” Newt managed from the rest of his breath and when she finally released him just to run back to the house to tell the rest of the family the big news, he gasped like he was drowning.

“Good to know she’s as strong as ever,” he croaked, and Thomas hummed and took both of their bags to carry it inside. He had gotten visibly darker and grumpier the closer they got to his hometown and now he almost visibly carried a dark, raining cloud above his head, looking like he just arrived at his own funeral.

Newt followed him inside with surprising ease though, like returning to this place somewhat negated everything Thomas tried to spoil. He had only nice, pleasant memories of this house, and those people, so even if Thomas ought to be a dickhead, he could always enjoy himself here.

“Newt!” a roaring voice welcomed him next, and another crushing hug lifted him from the floor. Thomas’ father was a big, broad guy who could probably lift the house itself, and his jolly personality apparently remained untouched as well.

“Hi there,” the blond greeted him right the moment he got back to the ground, trying to withstand the bear pat that followed. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Likewise!” the big guy cheerily replied. “Glad to see he came back to his senses! Was seriously afraid he’d bring that gloomy goth girl here, I don’t think we have enough black around for that.”

Teresa or Brenda.

“Nah, he still has a thing for blonds,” he replied with a smile and immediately heard Thomas’ scoffing from the living room. The fact that both Teresa and Brenda turned him down must have scarred his ego a lot.

The jab was worth it though.

***

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anna (Thomas’ mum) patted his arm for about fourth time already since they arrived, her face fond and eyes happy, and it made Newt guilty as hell. They all gathered in the kitchen, which smelled like fantastic food and happy memories. “I swear the breakup was so shocking, we didn’t want to believe it. Tom took it so badly too, I-,”

“Mum,” Thomas’ voice sounded threatening from behind them. “Stop feeding him useless stuff. He just got off work and spent three hours in the car, let him breathe a little.”

She made a face at him but sent Newt an apologetic smile and gave him a muffin. Still tasted as he remembered, and he had to admit those small welcoming bits were the only brakes he had from running away. It wasn’t like Thomas was nasty towards him or anything – he wouldn’t dare since they’d call him out on it – but since they had the talk in the car Newt could feel the uncomfortable tension between them that always ended in an argument.

“You want coffee?” Newt realized Thomas was looking at him now, eyebrows raised, and he just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“I’ll bring it to you, you can go sit with others,” Thomas added as if he couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and Newt didn’t argue with that logic. The moment he left the kitchen and sat between Thomas’ dad and sister, relief washed over him, and he could finally breathe a little easier.

“I thought you’d already be married to somebody decent,” Hannah (Thomas’ little sister) commented while she plastered herself against Newt’s side like she used to do when she was little. Newt haven’t seen her for about four years, give or take, and now she was 14 and apparently full of opinions. “And not wasting your time with him again.”

Him, pointedly looking at her brother who was sneering at her while entering the living room with Newt’s coffee, was seemingly normal occurrence lately, judging from zero reactions from the parents.

“I know, I’ll never learn,” Newt piped in anyway, which made Thomas sneer at him for a change, and almost spilling the coffee on him, not even trying to mask it as an accident.

“Do I have to be the target of your bad jokes?” he glared at them collectively and when Anna arrived after him with dinner, Newt felt nostalgic, like literally nothing changed, and he relaxed into it with more ease than he expected.

He was just glad Thomas was sitting further from him and didn’t need to force himself to act natural. When he reached for the coffee, his favourite taste of it surprised him, but he didn’t meet Thomas’ eyes.

***

“I have to say, you got even cuter,” Anna suddenly said once they were past dinner, Newt couldn’t eat or drink anymore or he would explode and decided to walk it out while helping her bringing dishes to the kitchen and putting them in a dishwasher.

“Anna,” he chuckled. “That’s not what a guy wants to hear.”

“I’m just saying,” she had a genuine smile on her face. “I feared I’d never get to see you here ever again. I know you don’t really want to talk about the breakup and all…”

She stopped for a second, her eyes searching, and Newt hated how strangely painful it made him feel. He sincerely hoped it didn’t show on his face.

“I just want you to know I’m happy you two got back together,” she concluded, which meant it definitely showed on Newt’s face and she saw it. “I know you must have your reasons back then and everything, but I’m just… so glad for you two. And I wish you’d visit more often as well.”

Newt’s chest tightened like he was about to have a heart-attack and he had to push the guilt back down with the power of his sheer will alone, right in front of her trusting, hopeful eyes, like he was disarming a ticking bomb with 10 seconds on the countdown. He expected maybe some initial awkwardness, or some of them poke fun at how they finally got their shit back together after three years, but this wasn’t the plan and he hated how he wanted to hide behind Thomas’ back and just push him to deal with this instead.

“Yeah,” he gulped down the rising agony. “We absolutely should.”

Liar.

“You were always such a great kid,” she pushed herself from the kitchen counter and pulled him into a tight, heartfelt hug. Tears almost spilled out of Newt’s eyes when she squeezed him with loving gentleness he didn’t want to feel again to know what he was missing. “We all love you so much. Thank you for coming back.”

He couldn’t stop the guilt anymore and quietly wept into her shoulder, praying to any higher power for her not to notice.

***

It wasn’t an escape. He did not run away like a coward the moment he could. He didn’t light up his cigarette outside on a porch with trembling hands because he couldn’t get his nerves under control. It just happened. He just felt like it. He just needed the fresh air, nothing else.

He thought, maybe if he kept telling himself that, the tears would eventually stop and he wouldn’t be sniffling anymore into the night, with sky sprinkled with stars and air cold enough to make his face feel like ice.

He heard the door opening only vaguely, his eyes stinging, until the automatic light flashed above him, signalizing a movement nearby. He noticed Thomas too late, he realized when he started pathetically wiping away tears into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Thomas asked a bit abundantly, seeing the state of his, but Newt had to admit there weren’t many other questions to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Newt sniffled, trying to get his feelings under control, but failing miserably. “Sorry… just. Give me a few, I’ll be fine.”

Thomas took a step closer, and Newt hated how he flinched at that.

“Mum told you something?”

He had an unreadable face, Newt thought. Neutral and careful and Newt couldn’t say what he was thinking. He hated how the ability of reading this man just disappeared like the rest of their history.

“Nothing bad,” he shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling shortly. His hands still trembled but not as badly anymore. “Are they worried?”

“Not yet, I think,” Thomas replied quietly, glancing towards the door, then sighed. “I guess it’s… kind of painful.”

“Kind of,” Newt agreed softly. “But it reminds me how nice it was when it lasted.”

“Yeah,” Thomas finally glanced at him, his eyes a bit warmer. “It was amazing.”

Newt felt a lump in his throat forming, and the more Thomas was looking at him, the worse it got, until he couldn’t really stand it. So he offered a small, apologetic smile, put the cigarette out and returned back to the house with buzzing in his head and weird pressure in his chest.

The mischievous grins Thomas’ family gave him once he reappeared in the living room never felt so wrong.

***

Newt didn’t really plan on it, but since the night progressed and his company slowly started leaving for the night, he eventually fell asleep on the couch in the living room. He thought he heard somebody trying to wake him while softly saying his name, but he was too exhausted to rise to the challenge and just let his eyes close shut.

The last thing he noticed was sudden warmth engulfing him, like being hugged by a fluffy animal and then he was out like a light.

He dreamed of first loves and heartbreaks.

***

“You’re being 17 only once in your life, man, cheer up a little!”

Newt grumpily looked at the shot he was given with liquid of unknown origin and then back at Minho, who was grinning at him encouragingly, already drunk enough to be considered not the most reliable source of what fun is. Newt couldn’t say he liked the taste of any alcohol he tried so far, and even though Minho made it look like it’s the most delicious thing he ever had, every cup tasted like spirit and burned unpleasantly.

Sure, he was 17 today. Sure, he tried alcohol because everybody did to celebrate, but every time they looked away, he just poured the rest of his cup into something that could hold it (the cactus probably wasn’t happy about it and Newt mentally apologized to the plant when he disposed of the rest of his beer in its pot).

“Lemme take that from you,” a sudden movement on his side caused the small glass to be taken from his hand, and then a brown-haired boy downed the drink like it was water. Newt had no idea who he was, but since he saved him from possible vomit-inducing moments, he immediately liked him.

“My saviour,” he grinned once the boy tossed the empty glass back to Minho who barely caught it. The boy smiled back at him, his big, brown eyes warm and honestly really pretty.

“Thomas,” he introduced himself. “I take it you’re the birthday boy. Newt, right?”

“Right,” the blond nodded in agreement. “You here with Ben?”

It was just a guess, but he vaguely remembered Ben mentioned something about bringing friends over and Newt didn’t mind. The more people present, the easier would it be for him to disappear at some point to avoid being cornered with other alcoholic beverages.

“Yep,” Thomas nodded with a cute smile. Newt wondered if he was already at least a little drunk to be so easily charmed. “I know I should have brought a gift, since it’s your b-day and all, but I kinda came empty handed. Sorry about that.”

“Preposterous,” Newt faked a shock, hand on his chest and laughter bubbling in his throat, but Thomas was already fishing through his pockets as if he was searching for something to give, and that made him laugh for real. “It’s fine, Tommy. You saved me from alcohol poisoning, you have a free pass.”

“That’s lame though,” Thomas objected unhappily and then finally found his phone in his back pocket, looking at Newt expectantly. “Can I at least get your number? I swear I will make it up to you.”

Normally Newt would argue he didn’t need anything, for real, don’t sweat it, but the more he was looking into Thomas’ eyes, the more his common sense refused to work, and caving in was so, so easy.

“Sweet,” Thomas smiled happily when he saved the contact and then slung his arm around Newt’s shoulders, leaned close and took a quick photo of them both on his phone. “You won’t regret it.”

“I know I won’t,” Newt said, and he meant it.

***

He woke up with his head painfully pounding, like he slept too long or too short. In a moment of confusion of his whereabouts one glance across the empty but messy living room from yesterday’s festivities gave him the answer he sought – he was in hell and it smelled like pancakes.

He gingerly sat up, analysing the situation carefully, until his eyes stopped at the clock showing 12:04 and Newt refused to believe them. He couldn’t have possibly slept till noon, right? Thomas was playing a prank at him by rewinding the clock or something, there was simply no way. He usually woke up at 7, if he really had a deficit then 9 the latest and felt guilty about it. Twelve sounded like a bad joke.

Then again, his body was so sore it made sense. He had a crick in his neck, his legs felt wooden and stiff and there were creases from the couch everywhere on his naked skin. He had a soft, fluffy blanket draped around his body he didn’t remember even seeing yesterday but was grateful for anyway.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in mortification. “What am I even doing?”

“Having a zombie march, I’d say,” a voice interrupted his inner freak out mercilessly and he turned around too fast for his poor head to comprehend and world spun for a moment. “Thought you died or something, geez. Since when you sleep so long?”

Thomas was slowly walking towards him with a tray, trying to balance the cups with coffee on it, and once he successfully set it down, there was only a small puddle under one, so still a success. He brought pancakes and muffins Anna baked and Newt didn’t feel like his appetite was up to this.

“I dunno,” the blond rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I guess I wasn’t really sleeping as much these past few days…”

“Your back must hate you though,” Thomas glanced at the sofa pointedly. “Only sitting for too long on this torture device is painful.”

“Eh,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you look like shit, so not much worse,” Thomas didn’t spare him, smirking at Newt’s apparently dishevelled appearance and he just flipped him off.

“Have a pancake, you’ll feel better,” Thomas pushed the tray closer.

“Maybe later,” Newt untangled himself from the blanked instead. “I need a bath.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Newt mentally slapped Thomas so hard his face landed in the pancake cushion. In reality he just scoffed and wobbled out of the living room at the sound of his ex’ snickering.

***

Nobody really commented on Newt’s faux pas of passing out on the couch until it was time for lunch, but they did comment on his food habits (or better on having none). He barely ever ate breakfast in the morning, so he didn’t eat the fluffy pancakes, or the muffins Thomas brought him, but he did drink the coffee. Before he could even properly digest that Anna was already serving lunch and he had no way how to wiggle himself out of that one.

The rest of the day passed like a blur and when the evening came Anna was chasing him to the bed the first moment he yawned.

“You’re not going to ruin your back on this monstrosity!” she was pushing him up the stairs with Thomas behind her, laughing at them. “I don’t understand how we didn’t buy a new one yet, but now we have to, or you’d wreck yourself on it!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Newt tried to argue, but she was having none of it and finally stopped in front of Thomas’ room, which… was an obvious choice, but Newt felt his blood running cold at the sight of the familiar area.

“I prepared clean towels and everything,” she pointed at a fluffy pile on Thomas’ desk. “Good night!”

“Yeah…” the blond barely got that out and she was already leaving, calling to others downstairs to help her choose a new couch so she could immediately order it online.

“Well, at least we’ll get rid of that relic,” Thomas commented while entering the bedroom as well, all smiles like he didn’t realize there was one bed, them broken up and Newt’s absolute horror.

“We’re not sleeping in the same bed, are we,” Newt ignored him with eyes fixed at the lodging in the room and Thomas crossed his arms on his chest, his lips in a wide grin.

“What, I clearly remember you saying there is nothing embarrassing about me anymore, since you heard me fart and all.”

“Oh god, shut up,” Newt wished his words were a spell and came true, but of course they didn’t work on Thomas, since he started laughing like a hyena. Anna naturally would let them both sleep in Thomas’ room, it was an obvious choice, but he sure hated it.

Thomas’ room was the same as Newt remembered it, but it made sense, since Thomas had his own place in the city for years. His family had no reason to change it, let it be the queen-sized bed, the blue-ish walls and sleek black furniture hugging the place. It had no sofa, which was the core of the problem for one of them and Newt’s regret of saying yes returned in full force.

“It’s not like it’s a small bed,” Thomas commented matter-of-factly once he had his fill of fun and sat at the edge of the incriminated furniture, obviously taunting him.

“It’s not like I care,” Newt bit out and circled the bed in disdain. “Sleep on the floor for what I care.”

“But it’s my bed,” Thomas argued with badly concealed glee. Newt guessed it was because now he could make fun of him now, which must have made him feel good after being a target of little quips from his family for two days. “If you don’t like me in it, you go sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a guest in here,” Newt crossed his arms on his chest. “Don’t you have any manners? Not to mention you owe me for coming here and playing your lying game.”

“It has nothing to do with manners or me owing you, you’re just being a stubborn ass as always,” Thomas corrected him and clearly didn’t feel like being merciful, especially when he just flopped onto the mattress and looked at Newt expectantly. “So, let’s calm down and get some sleep. I promise I won’t attack you until you’re awake again.”

“Shut up, jerk face,” Newt barked at him and grabbed the towel Anna left there, turning to leave for the bathroom, definitely not running away. “As if I’d bloody let you.”

“Mhmmm.” Thomas’ face was grinning, and Newt wanted to set his guts on fire.

Goddamn, fuck this all.

***

Of course Thomas already laid under the covers, one arm under his head, other holding his phone and leisurely scrolling through it. The room was bathing in darkness, outside of the small lamp on the bedside table. Newt still remember that lamp from years ago, and how they almost broke it when Newt accidentally knocked it over when they were having sex… here… okay, that particular memory really didn’t need to resurface right now.

“I know right,” Thomas suddenly spoke, looking at Newt pointedly. “I was surprised that thing still works too. Got banged so badly.”

“Hmm…”

“Not the only thing that got banged though,” of course the fucker had to add, and Newt tossed his shirt he was holding at him. Only got small laugh in response and then his shirt got dropped carelessly on the floor, left crumpled there like trash. Newt wanted to kick Thomas’ ass so bad he almost reached for his whole bag to hit him with it.

“Going to stand there whole night?” Thomas was acting smugly because he had an upper hand for now, the blond knew the tactics very well. Just milking the moment until one of them snap, he sure hadn’t changed. Newt seriously considered to just leave and sleep in the car if he had to.

“Are you going to be this insufferable the whole week?” he seethed, and Thomas shrugged.

“Define insufferable. Don’t feel like I am any of that.”

“Alright, then I’ll leave tomorrow,” Newt countered him, because he was honestly too tired already and couldn’t think of anything that would make Thomas to fall from his high horse for just one second. Or just show some understanding, because the moment they got in his room he made sure to make Newt as uncomfortable as possible. “You can tell your parents whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over us sleeping in one bed?” Thomas sat up while putting his phone away and he had this old Star Wars shirt Newt got him for his 20th birthday and it was like a punch in his gut.

“Yes,” Newt just said and the warmth from the bath was slowly dissipating from his body, leaving him chilled and miserable.

“We slept together for 7 years,” Thomas objected with a small frown. “It’s not like you don’t know me. Or how I sleep.”

“It’s not like it matters in this situation.”

“I told you I won’t do anything,” another argument and Newt shook his head. He wasn’t even worried he would try anything; they were way past that phase anyway. It was just… so uncomfortable. “Jesus, Newt, please be reasonable. It’s cold, you’re shivering like a wet dog over there, I have perfectly normal, warm bed and we won’t even be touching. I don’t know what kind of block you have in your head, but can you just let it go for tonight and come here before you catch a cold and blame it on me too?”

“I-,” Newt couldn’t even start when a soft knock stopped him mid speech and the door opened few seconds later with Anna between them, smiling. Probably chaperoning, he would guess if he had a coherent thought.

“Just wanted to ask if you want chicken or steak for tomorrow lunch,” she chirped and Newt could almost see the loading screen in front of his eyes, for how much he couldn’t comprehend the sudden topic change.

“Go lie down, you’ll freeze out here,” she immediately noticed him standing there barefooted and pushed him gently towards the bed. “Do you want another blanket? I know you’re always cold. Thomas brought the fluffy one downstairs yesterday, should I fetch it?”

“It’s fine, I have two in here already,” Thomas interjected immediately and before Newt could react anyhow, Thomas reached for his hand and pulled him onto the mattress. “Will warm him up if that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Just try to be quiet, will you,” Anna seized them both in disapproving stare and Newt felt sick in his stomach. “So what. Chicken or steak?”

“I vote for steaks!” Thomas immediately shot out and Newt still didn’t understand what was even important about food in this situation, so he just nodded dumbly, and then Anna was leaving with good night and disappeared behind the door again, plunging the room into silence.

He could hear Thomas’ breathing close to his own and finally understood he lost this fight without much of a battle happening.

“Can we sleep now?” he heard Thomas ask, so he just slinked under covers and turned his back towards the man, feeling vulnerable and stupid at the same time.

***

They didn’t talk about the night. They didn’t really talk at all during the day, since when Newt woke up, Thomas was already gone, and Hannah mentioned something about him and his dad leaving early in the morning for whatever reason.

Newt hated how relieved he felt.

He spent most of the day with Anna making lunch and dodging questions about him and Thomas’ breakup and reconciliation. Anna didn’t pry as much as he feared she would, but she obviously wanted to know what happened three years ago and he had no nice answer for her, so he just kept it vague.

We stopped talking to each other properly.

We felt like we needed a break.

No, there was no bad blood between us, really. Absolutely no arguments that would cut too deep, I assure you. We just needed some time. We’re back together now after all, right.

The lies twisted so painfully on his tongue he was grateful when Thomas finally got back at 4PM and Anna’s attention turned to him instead. When the day progressed, Brian (Thomas’ dad) sat them all in the living room in the evening and opened his favourite bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions.

They lit up fire in the fireplace and Anna brought over snacks, and just sitting there and chilling felt soothing to Newt’s guiltiness eating him up from within.

“We just sealed the deal with a new partner today,” Brian said in a booming voice when he was pouring a glass to Newt who was sincerely relieved his special occasion wasn’t Thomas and him dating again. Because that sure would send him out of the room quick, he could handle only that much before snapping.

“That’s fantastic,” he gingerly accepted the glass and watched Thomas doing to same when offered, wondering if he could somehow dump his own drink into his glass without being suspicious. They sat too wide apart though, with Thomas between his parents and Newt felt the gap deeply.

“That’s right! It means more work, but it’s going to be worth it!” Brian nodded happily and poured glass to Anna as well. When Hannah came with her own, he shooed at her to get juice instead, at which she pouted. “We were dealing with them on and off for about a year, so when they agreed to be a permanent supplier, it’s gonna make a difference.”

“You should invite the CEO for dinner,” Anna added to it and Brian immediately agreed. “But for now, cheers!”

Newt smiled and raised his glass as well, but his throat already hated it in advance. Once he sipped the wood-scented drink, he forced himself to remain passive and not make a disgusted face that was forcing its way up, grateful Anna and Brian were too busy planning what food to choose for the business dinner.

“Oh my god, can you stop shouting in my ear?” Thomas suddenly stood up when his dad leaned over him to his mum for umpteenth time. “Go sit next to her! Geez. I’m not a cushion you can bulldozer over.”

Brian laughed and pushed himself towards his wife on Thomas’ spot, which left Thomas to sit next to Newt with an unceremonious plop.

“I thought maybe cream cake for dessert?” Anna was brainstorming loudly in meantime. “Right, Newt? You always liked the cake.”

“Oh yeah, loved it,” Newt quickly switched his attention to her from Thomas’ sudden warmth next to him. “Think it’s a great idea for the dessert.”

“See!” Anna beamed at Brian happily and Newt flinched when his glass got bumped suddenly and he almost dropped it before he realized it was Thomas’ own glass touching it now.

“Pour some over,” he mumbled towards the blond quietly. “Before they notice and start pestering you about quality of well-aged alcohol.”

“Thanks…” he piped gratefully and hastily splashed most of his glass’ contents away. He noticed Hannah was looking at them, but she only rolled her eyes and started arguing with the parents that beef was no better than pork for the main dish.

“She’d drink it instead if she had a chance,” Thomas whispered towards him. “Going to be a fucking alcoholic before she reaches twenty.”

“Weren’t you the same though,” Newt objected automatically, and Thomas sipped his now almost full glass with a smirk.

“Never minded the taste, yeah,” he shrugged while licking his lips. Newt would believe from his expression the drink tasted good, if he didn’t know better. “I still like beer more though. This can easily knock me out of my socks if I’m not careful.”

“Mm.”

“You slept well?”

Newt stiffed at the question, as he expected he would if Thomas was going to breach it, and then forced his body to relax again while gripping his almost empty glass firmly.

“Fine,” he only uttered.

“Are we going to have a problem again tonight then or is it fine?” he heard Thomas asking in low voice and refused to meet his eyes. The night was alright, he slept more or less okay too, but that didn’t pose a problem in the first place, and Thomas knew it. Newt couldn’t say if it was Thomas’ way of being petty or getting revenge, but it sure bothered Newt like a thorn in his side.

“Can’t possibly kick you off, when your mum likes to check up on us,” he mumbled with a quick glance towards Anna, still in heated debate over food with the rest of the family. “So let’s pretend it’s fine.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Thomas scoffed. “I don’t mind sharing a bed. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

“Sure.”

“Hmm,” Thomas let out and then moved again, lifting his legs and deposited them rudely on Newt’s lap while leaning against the side of his dad who barely even noticed.

“Sure then,” he was grinning when Newt shot him a glare. “Love of my life.”

“I swear I’ll murder you,” Newt gritted through his teeth and refused to acknowledge how his heart thumped when Thomas smiled at him like he just said something overly sweet.

“Looking forward to it,” the brunet responded instead while sipping their shared drink and Newt twisted his big toe in revenge. Sadly, it didn’t have much of an effect.

***

“What the fuck happened to you over those years, jesus fuck!” If anybody asked, Newt didn’t sound like a naggy wife scolding her husband, no sir. “You can’t hold your liquor for shit!”

“Whaaa-,” Thomas’ attempt to sound offended interrupted a loud burp and then fit of laughter, all that when he was plastered over Newt’s back who was unceremoniously dragging him back to his room.

“If you throw up over my back, you’re dead,” he warned the drunkard coldly and Thomas let out hehehe but didn’t deny it. Newt suspected him he could walk just fine but wanted to be as obnoxious as possible, so Newt would have to take care of him in front of his amused parents who left them to it. Newt would be much happier if Thomas’ dad would toss his son to the bed one armed, because he definitely could, and wouldn’t leave Newt to fight with the deadweight all alone, but then again maybe it was for the best.

True enough, Thomas had in total of four and half glasses full of whiskey, even though Brian laughed at him to get drunk after three shots. Naturally didn’t know every time he poured Newt a fresh batch, even though Newt tried to tell him no thanks, he secretly dumped it into Thomas’ glass who drank it, just to get refilled from Brian again as well, and that went until the bottle was empty and Thomas started giggling.

Which led them to the situation at hand – with Newt dragging his ex up the stairs and to his room – their room – while swearing like a sailor, and then just dumping him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes where Thomas landed with soft oof.

“Why’s the room sp’nning…?” he heard the muffled question shortly after, looking at Thomas’ boneless form of a dead drunk with his face half buried in covers. “Make it stooop~.”

“You feel like barfing?” he asked instead of reacting to the drunk observation and Thomas groaned, then tried to push himself up, just to fail miserably. He tried two more times until he realized he really couldn’t get up because his arms wouldn’t support him, and just had to worm his way up to the pillow by crawling. Which was almost painful to watch, honestly.

“Neeeewt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond buried his face to his hands until another whine of his name came and he walked to the bed and pushed Thomas on his back instead. That got him a sloppy grin in return in a drunk haze.

“Hi,” the drunkard slurred. “How’re ya?”

“Sucky,” Newt answered while crossing his arms on his chest.

“Oh noooo…” another whine. “Whyyy?”

“Have to take care of one smashed idiot,” Newt nudged Thomas’ side with his knee, earning another giggle. He couldn’t say he had experience with drunk Thomas – or at least with this much drunk Thomas. If he ever got inebriated enough to be considered wasted, he just passed out, usually. But today’s drunk Thomas sure had some annoying stamina and kept himself awake for too long.

“I’ll protect you from ‘im,” Thomas managed to reach out with his hand, grabbing at Newt’s sweater. “C’me to the bed.”

“I think you need a bucket first,” Newt let him pawn his sweater with a sigh.

“Mkay.” The hand on his sweater stayed, grabbing randomly, until it dropped to Newt’s thigh where it lightly squeezed, and Thomas let an appraising hum. “You got thinner.”

“It’s just your imagination,” Newt pushed the hand away and it bounced back onto the mattress. “Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

“Nooo…”

He ignored the whine and left the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Drunk Thomas could be bad for his conscience.

***

He got back half an hour later, after a bath and finding a bucket he could deposit at the edge of the bed, in hope Thomas didn’t manage to throw up in meantime. He found him sleeping sprawled over the mattress, right in the middle, still in the same clothes and smelling like a liquor store. There was no barf anywhere at least.

“Sweet,” he sighed while putting the bucket near Thomas’ possible trajectory of his head if he felt like bending over and vomiting. “Glad we had this talk about sleeping together, huh.”

He slowly crawled onto the bed, careful not to wake Thomas up (though judging by his occasional snores it wasn’t happening) and slid under the blanket as much as Thomas’ weight allowed him.

In hindsight… there was no way he could be mad at him anyway, for today. No matter how drunk the man got, he still remembered how Newt didn’t like alcohol and Newt hated how it warmed his jaded heart.

He fell asleep eventually, dreaming of grabby hands and sad smiles.

***

“Your mum is going to hear us, you ass!”

“Don’t care.”

“Tommy!”

No response, only hot lips on his neck, licking and biting and pampering it with kisses and Newt just remained pinned against the door of Thomas’ room, taking the weight of his boyfriend against his body and roaming hands grabbing at his butt and then traveling to his thigh, hiking it up to settle against Thomas’s hip. His heart was beating so loud he couldn’t hear anything else, just thump thump thump of his blood roaring, and Thomas’s sweet nothings he was murmuring to Newt’s ear in a rough voice.

“I want you so much,” Thomas whispered when unbuckling Newt’s pants, sliding his hand under them against hot, naked skin, and Newt couldn’t hold back a moan, he just needed him closer, he needed to kiss him, to touch him, to get him inside-

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Thomas bit out, voice strained, and Newt let him to lift him up and carry him towards the bed, their lips meeting in a messy, frantic kiss. It was painful, it was rushed, but it was what Newt needed, the brutal strength of Thomas’ body pushing into him and his own breathy moans coming out when their lips parted, and he heard a dull thud at some point when he was trying to hold onto the bedpost once Thomas thrusted into him so strong it made him see stars, but he didn’t care about anything else but pleasure and pain and adoration he felt when he was with him-

Newt woke up with a start, his body hot and aroused, and he felt on fire and caged and painfully hard. He could barely catch a breath when he noticed arms slung possessively around his torso and waist pushing him insistently against warm body behind him, waking up all his senses one by one like Christmas lights.

It took him a moment, the initial confusion clearing like a fog from his mind, making him realize Thomas was cuddling him from behind, one of his hands got under Newt’s shirt and was spread across his naked belly possessively.

“Shit,” he couldn’t stop himself from cursing and attempted to disentangle, but it only made Thomas to clutch to him harder, like a defence mechanism, unwilling to let go. He tried to push away one of the arms holding him, but Thomas slung a leg over his hips in response, trapping him even more.

“Don’t leave,” a sleepy voice sliced the silence and Newt stiffened once he felt hot lips on the back of his neck, mouthing there persistently.

“Thomas-.” He tried to turn around but couldn’t move an inch and Thomas bit down slightly, sending shivers down Newt’s spine.

“Mmm…” he heard the hum, and then the tense weight relaxed once Thomas fell asleep again, and Newt didn’t dare to move anymore.

It was going to be a long night and Newt refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head screaming for relief by Thomas’ hand.

#newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #Last Resort series #newmas

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c-estmabiologie · 4 years ago

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nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor fic #dani clayton #jamie taylor #jamie the gardener #dani x jamie #thobm

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years ago

Text

Holiday fic for @shepherds-of-haven! Thanks for the deadline extension. I hope I’m not too late! More under the cut or on AO3.

midwinter depths

It all started with an innocent conversation, Lavinet asking what they were planning to wear for the Wintersun Gala. The confused, collective answer was: what gala? After some back-and-forth, it became apparent that the Diminished-majority members of the newest government agency had not been invited to the illustrious holiday celebration. The reactions were varied, but they eventually came to one conclusion. Couldn’t they host a competing, more inclusive, and most importantly, better party? Certainly not as fancy, but in terms of community outreach, it would be far superior.

Responsibilities were dealt, and by dawn, the Shepherds set out to prepare.

***

The bus was late. Croelle adjusted his hat and clenched his teeth. Another inconvenience, just the latest obstacle to his work. The shelter’s glass panes looked very fragile and tempting at the moment, but ultimately, he didn’t move from his current seat on the metal bench.

A tall woman approached the bus stop, ashen hair pulled into a high ponytail to reveal slightly pointed ears. Her hazel eyes glinted with the iladrin, and one hand carried a bag of groceries. She checked her wristwatch, which sparkled with miniscule gems, and stopped at the other end of the bench. A strong wintry gust blew past, rattling the shelter. Heavy silence descended upon them.

“If you’re waiting for the bus, you might as well walk to your destination.” He intoned.

“Excuse me?” Her polished voice was more amused than affronted.

“It’s been twenty minutes. I hope you don’t have anywhere urgent to be.”

“And why are you still here?” She retorted.

He lifted the brim of his hat, to look at her again. Pale brows, an aquiline nose, a thin mouth colored by dark mauve lipstick. Handsome, he supposed. “Are you a Shepherd?” He had dragged his line of sight away from her face to the embroidered hound on her coat.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Dragged into it, really. Speaking of which...” She handed him a blue and silver flyer, detailing games, raffles, and a potluck dinner. “We’re hosting a party tonight at our headquarters. Ten danars admission, though I’m not sure whether it’ll be enforced. It’s mostly for the rest of the Shepherds, and their friends and families.”

“Is that what your bag is for?” He turned his attention to her purchased items.

“Oh, I don’t cook for groups. But I was assigned to buy ingredients for punch and I’m very good at making vytas.” She rummaged through a variety of fruits, before removing a jar of honey and admiring the color in the weak morning light. “I’m picky about my ingredients. No alcohol though, to be palatable for Mages like us.”

“I’m not a Mage. And I don’t eat fruit.”

She tilted her head, stepping in his direction. He flinched, as her gaze ran over him in obvious scrutiny. “How are you still alive?”

This close, he was able to see her hair clip. Three birds in flight, carved out of lacquered wood. He evaded her question. “For the same reasons anyone else is.”

She didn’t respond to that, still analyzing and trying to puzzle him out. Definitely, this Mage was a strange one. He hadn’t heard of any such figure in the Shepherds, but he could always use his resources to find out. She pivoted away from him, putting her jar back. “So, are you going to attend?”

“I have work. Why? I’m not your friend or family. Are you desperate for my company?”

“No.” She easily replied. He refused to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I only want to make sure that my effort pays off.”

“You hate holidays, don’t you?”

Her slight smile became brittle. “Do you only ask questions and never answer them?”

A short, derisive laugh escaped him. “Part of the job.” Wait, what was he doing? Conversing, letting down his guard, still sitting here instead of headed to his next assignment. He might have suspected she was an Enchanter if it weren’t for the wristwatch. The pearly face bore the symbol of the Shifters, the points and curls in fine etching.

“And what is your job?”

“You’re a nosy woman.”

“I prefer ‘curious’.”

“There’s such a thing as being too curious for your own good.”

“I’m not particularly interested in being good.”

He grabbed her slender hand, and she emitted a startled noise as he pulled her towards him. He lowered his voice, speaking into one tapered ear. “Interested in being bad then?”

She was perfectly still for a moment, her pulse rapid under his fingertips, and then, she roughly pulled away. Her eyes locked him in a deadpan stare. “That’s another question, and for this one, I’ll follow your example and decline to answer.”

“Hmph.” Determinedly looking past her form, he spotted a van turning the corner, the Shepherds’ emblem on the hood to mark its status as a government vehicle. “There’s your ride.”

She followed his line of sight and blinked. “Oh. So it is. Would you like to come along? The driver’s my kin, and he won’t mind.”

“I’d rather not.” He scowled, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodbye.”

“Well, if your work allows it, feel free to stop by tonight’s dinner. I don’t have to remind you to try the vytas.” She pointedly lifted her bag and then laid a hand upon her lapels. “You can ask for me, Zoegea. And you are…?”

He grunted. “Croelle.” And with that, he walked away before the van arrived. Minutes later, he wondered how he could be so foolish to tell her his name. Just for that, he had to pry more information out of her. He crumpled the flyer in his pocket but it stayed there.

***

The smell of baking bread was one of the best things in the world. Trouble knelt down, to peer into the oven. The rolls were puffy and golden-brown, nearly ready to eat. There was something nostalgic about waiting and watching, like he was five again and his mother was cooking in their tiny kitchen.

A rustle of movement caught his attention and he met bright amber eyes as his partner mirrored his position. “Hey, so the mashed potatoes should be done soon. What’s next?”

“We should be good for now. Thanks, Senna.” He grinned.

“No problem! So, what’re you doing?”

“Just checking on the rolls. Best part of being on the team in charge of side dishes.” It was always enjoyable to mold the balls of dough in his floured hands. He splayed his fingers over the warm glass. “It takes me back to when I was a kid. My mum made her own bread.” Right now, the yeasty aroma of the dinner rolls was just like the one that permeated the cozy apartment of his childhood.

“So did mine!” She eagerly shared the similarity. “Not that the Westwood bakery’s was bad, but I always liked hers best.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel!”

She rocked back on her heels, her tanned face flushed. “I actually remember my mom’s recipe, so I bake now and then. It’s not exactly the same though.”

“But it’s something. I couldn’t read before my own died.” His memory of her was vague. She had pinned her hair when washing other people’s clothes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair had been blond like his, but her eyes were a warm brown. Her voice was sweet though it was harder to recall now. Her scent was the easiest: clean linen and a touch of spiced apples. Other than that, he didn’t even have a photograph. “Wish I knew how she did it.”

“Maybe, we can figure it out. Or at least, get pretty close.” She suggested. “We can bake multiple batches and narrow it down from there, based on what you tell me.”

“Trial and error, huh?” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that! When should we start?”

“Probably sometime in the new year. When are you available?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll find the time. Just text me and I’ll be there. Do you have my number?”

“Yup, I saved it when you recruited me.” She flashed a thumbs-up. “I’ve just never had to text you before, because I keep running into you.”

“Hey now, you’re the Diviner.” He joked. “You’re not using magic to find out which bar I go to?”

“Trouble, you always go to The Burning Crown.”

“It’s the free drink Nessa gives me every time. Actually, I think I should probably switch it up. Too many fights break out in there, and uh, I’m trying to follow your advice.” If she hadn’t stopped him, his old gang would have been too glad to bring him down to their level. That wasn’t what a Shepherd did, and having her near was a good reminder.

“That’s great!” Her smile was wide and honest. “I know it’s hard, but I’m really happy you’re trying. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do it, I believe in you.”

He coughed, as an excuse to stop staring. “Well, you’ve shown me that talking out of a brawl is an option.” Then, he winced. “Ah, shit, I gotta stand up again. My legs are killing me.” He stood, his thighs burning, and offered a hand to her. She grasped it, and as soon as she was upright again, she quickly squeezed.

“I don’t think I’ve had a Wintersun like this before. Today’s been so much fun.”

“Me too. It’s always fun spending time with you.”

She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he felt suspended in place. Then, with a sudden draft, Riel stepped in, carrying a clipboard.

“Are we on schedule?”

Trouble noticed she had let go, and he crossed his arms, pressing his empty hand against his body. “For sure, we are. Even though we won’t be serving until six tonight, we’ll be ready by then.”

“Parties usually start late, anyway.” Senna added, with a sparkle in her eyes.

Riel pinched the bridge of his nose. “And guests arrive early. Regardless, if you need anything from the supply team, tell me before five so I can accommodate you accordingly.”

“Understood!” A whistling ringtone began to play, and she removed her phone from her apron pocket. “Oh, good. I was waiting for them to call back. Sorry, this will be just a few minutes. But if not, I’ll see you later. And I’ll text you about our meeting, Trouble!”

“Looking forward to it!” He replied as she sprinted out.

Riel’s cool gaze shifted between Trouble and the swinging door. “A meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bake bread together. Isn’t that nice? She’s a great friend.” In response, he gave such a long sigh, that Trouble demanded. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Never mind.” He was already walking away.

“Oi! Just tell me!”

***

The knife moved easily in his grasp, as he sliced the parsnips. If the rest of his family could witness what he was doing, they’d be delivering the full brunt of their disapproval. Before today, he also thought he was better suited to security detail, but he had been convinced to join the rest of his friends. His squad insisted they’d be fine, Trouble had extolled the benefits, and a particular pair of deep brown eyes had been disappointed as the owner asked. “Are you not going to cook with us?”

Thus, here he was, preparing roasted vegetables for an impromptu party.

His partner for this task had her own tray, and she carefully sprinkled garlic salt over the halves of looked like miniature cabbages. When he brought over the parsnips, she glanced up at him. “Oh, you’re already done? Thank you, Blade!”

He stiffly nodded. “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, I’m okay. These are ready, so I’ll put them in the oven. You can get a drink.” A quick smile, and she was off to the adjacent kitchen. The storage room wasn’t as warm, and soundlessly, he crept out. He returned before she did, with two water bottles retrieved from the cooler in the hallway.

Wintersun was just another day, or at least, that was what he believed before. Now, far from the place of his upbringing, he was often out of his comfort zone. However, he didn’t mind learning more about the world, outside of the family business. And today had been very pleasant.

When Captain Enris walked past, he held out the extra bottle, nudging it against her hand.

She blinked. “Is this for me?”

“Yes.” He raised his brows. “Take it. You haven’t been hydrating.”

“It slipped my mind.” She admitted but accepted the water. From under her sleeve, her tattoo peeked out, the inky scrawl of Kettish script unconventional but poetic. She removed the lid and drank deeply; her mouth was red and gleaming.

He abruptly dropped his gaze. “You have the tendency to put yourself last. It’s not sustainable, so you should remember to look after yourself as well.”

Her laughter rang out, clear and crisp. “Ultan said something like that, a long time ago.”

She had never mentioned the name before. He tensed, the plastic bottle crackling in his grip. “Who’s Ultan?”

“He owned a little bookshop in Courtshore. I worked for him, after Drummond’s Point was…wiped out. It was my longest job, about two years, and I really enjoyed it. He, um, found some old magic books for me; that’s how I started learning magic.”

“He must have liked you.”

She hummed, considering the possibility. “I think so. He was a Norm but his late wife was a hedgewitch, so he always kept me safe. If anyone was suspicious, he said I was his granddaughter sent to live with him. I’m not sure if they really bought it though…”

He was a tiny bit happier that the connection was familial, although he was unsure how to feel, being compared to someone who was like her grandfather. He decided on tentative compliance. “Would you have stayed with him?”

“I don’t know. He fired me, you see.”

“What? Why would he? You’re…a good worker.” Damn, that sounded utterly inadequate. As if two words could describe how important her presence had become to the Shepherds.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” She smiled. “But what he thought is still a mystery. He just gave me the week’s wages and told me I wasn’t welcome anymore. So, I just kept moving, and I never heard from him again.”

His anger on her behalf lingered but he kept his response neutral. “It’s his loss and our gain. I’m glad you’re here in Haven. It would not be the same without you.”

He was certainly not as eloquent as she was, but he hoped the Enchanter was more at ease. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and she rested her back against the wall. “That’s kind of you to say.” Fondness colored her expression.

“Does it surprise you?”

She laughed again, and he welcomed the sound. “No, not at all! You’ve always been kind. Strict, but you truly care. You’ve never led us astray, despite how you’re not a big fan of Wintersun.”

“Was I obvious?”

“Compared to everyone else, just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I noticed you’re not frowning as much. Are you having fun?”

“I’ll take the quiet now, before the crowds arrive.” He wryly answered.

“It’s close enough!” She set her half-empty bottle down and clapped. “Let’s finish seasoning the rest. I was thinking of having lunch afterwards; how about you?”

He deliberately paused. “That sounds agreeable. Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Tallys mentioned a sandwich shop the other day. I can call ahead for pick-up.” She was already pivoting.

“Linaria.”

At the rare use of her given name, she immediately turned, lips parted.

“Let me see the menu first.” He grumbled.

With another giggle, she offered her phone. “The next thing we should work on is your pickiness.”

***

The free chair was inviting, and Chase took it, sliding over to the other person at the raffle table. “Hey, sunshine. How’s the sprain?”

“Better today, but not enough.” The newly incapacitated Battle-Mage scowled reproachfully at her left foot. “So I’m still stuck here.”

“You wanted to cook?”

“Even if I could, that’d be better than tearing up tickets.” She snorted. Her fingers pulled at the paper chain, twisting at the perforated end and depositing a fresh one in his open hand. She kept the other half, flicking it into a large glass jar. Valeriana had let her hair down, which was a first. Wine red and pin straight, it framed her face and grazed her elbows. She seemed more vulnerable, her features relaxed and youthful. He idly wondered who else had seen her like this. She must have sensed his regard, because her gaze shifted to him. “Did you need something else?”

“Nope, just hanging here and watching the rest of the hospitality team. Mostly, it’s Lavinet though.” The heiress had taken charge over the decorating business and she was ordering some of the newbies around to meet her standards. Embroidered white tablecloths, silver streamers, tea lights, and authentic pine trees for ambience. It all sounded magnificently meticulous, and he was trying to avoid her, just in case. “My side’s done with the party games.”

“Yeah? What have you got?”

“Elements, dreadnoughts, pin the tail on the ahfuri for the kids. We dug up some sui boards for the older folk. Anyone with spare change can play intrigue or Angels and Devils. And darts. Bet you’d like that.” As strong as she was, he knew she valued precision most of all. It was also what he liked about her, that she could run rampant on their missions given half a chance but opted for control.

He was interested in what she was like, if she lost it.

She leaned back in her seat, the motion steering him to the present again, and cracked a smile. “That depends on what prizes you have.”

“Ah, and like with all games, your prize is based on your stakes. Anything from chocolate truffles to plushy Shepherd hound toys to gift cards. Or I can always surprise you.”

“The bar is high.” She raised her brows but her eyes glittered at the prospect. Good.

“I’ll do my best, gorgeous. So...what has our dear organization obtained for the raffle prize?”

“You’ll have to win and find out for yourself.”

“Fair enough. Let’s hope this is a lucky one.” With a flourish, he brought the ticket to his lips in a light kiss and pocketed it. Then, he gestured towards the fall of her hair. “No bun or braids today?”

One hand tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “I want less tension for now, I’ll tie it back later.”

“Gotcha.” In the meantime, he’d appreciate the view.

“Caine asked me the same thing too.” The kid was eager to help out, and at the other end of the hall, he was stringing icy blue lights on one of the smaller trees. “He said it was nice.”

“He’s right, it suits you. You look lovely.” And he meant it, not even winking.

She held his gaze, about to bite back, but she paused. The moment stretched, before she quietly replied. “Thanks.”

His skin itched and he rubbed the back of his neck. Huh. She was attractive, it was hard not to notice since the day they met. It was only that she was a lot more so, because of how intimate her appearance was. It was lust, he decided, and he could deal with lust. Yeah.

“Well,” Chase cleared his throat and ruffled her hair. To his pleasant surprise, it was very soft. “I’m off to check on my people. Keep getting stronger, sunshine.”

“Uh…right.” Her dark eyes were wide, and he couldn’t look away.

“I’ll bring you a plate of food at dinner, and then, we can swing by the darts. Sound good?”

“Sure, I guess, mm.” She didn’t blush easily, but she was clearly flustered, blinking rapidly and tripping over her words. Cute. Her long eyelashes fluttered and he was transfixed.

Then, there was a clatter, and they both whipped towards the sound. Caine had dropped a third of his lights. Wincing, he called out. “Sorry!”

“Are you hurt?” Valeriana asked.

“No, I’m okay! How’re you?” He was giving them a trepidatious expression.

Oh. Chase was still touching her head. Slowly, he let go and forced a two-fingered salute. “We’re fine here! You’re doing good, little man!”

“I’ll see if I can help him out.” She muttered.

“You don’t have to, I’ll send a couple of my guys to check on him. Get some rest before tonight, alright?”

She didn’t seem fully appeased but she grabbed her ticket chain and reluctantly nodded, echoing. “See you tonight.”

“It’s a date. Later, Valia.”

If she protested at her shortened name, he didn’t hear it. He strolled along, starting to whistle. After making sure no one else was around, he glanced down at his hand and grinned.

***

The pressure cooker must have disappeared into an adjacent plane of existence. Red sighed as he closed the latest cupboard. “Nope, not here either.”

“Seriously?!” Alcea popped her head up, from behind the counter. Her golden curls bounced, her gray eyes brimming with dismay. “Damn it, where else could it possibly be?”

“At this point, I’m wondering if we should go to the nearest mall and buy another one.”

“Yeah, but we just bought this last week! Riel would throw a fit if we went back. Anyway, it should still be in the box!” She dove again and he smiled, leaning over the granite.

“Or we could always just do it the old-fashioned way. There are plenty of pots that no one else is using.”

“I guess we can.” She grouched. “It’d just be easier to make vegetable curry when we don’t have to be watching the stove the entire time.” She pulled away from the clutter of miscellaneous cooking utensils, and agonizingly rose to her feet. “Augh, my back!”

“Are you alright?” He rushed around to help, but she shook her head.

“Only out of shape, but I’m alive.”

“Good, because I still need you.” He grinned, hiding his relief. “Who else is going to taste test?”

“Uh, nobody, because that’s my job for today? A privilege of being on the entrée team.”

“Just one?”

“One of many.” She smirked. “But I’m not giving up on our missing item! I’ll send a text to the group chat.” She dug out her phone and her thumbs flew across the screen, her charm bracelet jangling with its trio of silver birds. As they walked through the corridors, he kept a close eye, ensuring she wasn’t bumping into anything.

Their allotted kitchen space was looking rather colorful. Onions, garlic, ginger, cauliflower, peas, cans of coconut milk. Jars of spices were lined up on one end, their labels in large print. And in the midst of the ingredients, an open book waited, displaying the pages of the recipe.

He rolled up his sleeves. “So, we’re making two batches: mild and spicy.”

“Yup. Oh! Should we ask Mimir for input on the latter?”

“If she ever shows, and doesn’t she have a high tolerance? Like, she inhales what would kill everyone else?”

“Right…maybe not.”

“It was a nice thought.” He squeezed her shoulder. Years ago in Capra, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario.

They hadn’t been close then; they shared mutual friends, but he was only aware of her as ‘the other Conjurer who was always in the stacks late at night’. Conversely, she knew him as ‘the guy who tried to descend the university into Hael itself’, but mercifully, she didn’t blame him at all. In fact, the first thing she asked upon their formal introduction was how he did it. The rest was history. The Shepherds had inherited a massive library from a Mage, and on their coinciding off days, the two of them claimed a study room and filled a whiteboard with spell runes and equations. She was bright and vivacious and daring; his younger self had made ignorant mistakes, and now, he could add overlooking her to the list.

After plenty of scrambling and bitten-off curses, some of which were Elvish, their main dish was bubbling. She ladled a spoonful, blew, and sampled. Her eyes shut as she broadly smiled.

“That good, huh?”

“Don’t take my word for it. Come on, try for yourself!” She grabbed a new spoon, taking from the top. Holding the steaming mixture to his mouth, she ordered. “Open wide!”

He chuckled. “Sharing a privilege?” However, he accepted. It was delicious, fragrant with coconut and bold with delayed heat. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any left.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Nope, it’s a second to see you eat something I helped make.”

“I hope your expectations were met.”

“Exceeded, for the entire morning actually. I love working with you.” She was incredibly close, her cheeks rosy. He tilted his head-

“Hello?” A timid voice called, and they both spun around to see Shery, standing at the threshold. Her hands shook as she lifted a large, familiar box. “Um…I saw your text to the group. Were you looking for this?”

“That’s it! Thank you sooo much, Shery!” Alcea bounded forward, relieving the other blond of the pressure cooker. “Where did you find it?”

“On our side.” She pushed the nose bridge of her glasses. “It was behind one of the trash cans.”

“We really appreciate it.” Red smiled. “We’ll save a bowl for you later. Mild, of course.”

She seemed very reassured. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll hold some fairy bread for you two. See you soon.” Just as silently as she arrived, she hurried off.

He peered at the box. “I’ve never used a pressure cooker before. Have you?”

“Not for curry.” She conceded, lowering it to the floor for unpacking. “But here, let me show you the basics!”

Settling in for the explanation, he watched her animated face with pleasure. This was a privilege he would claim for himself.

***

The van slowed to a stop for the red light, so Ayla propped her feet up on the dashboard. “Think a lot of people are going to show up?” They’d been traversing Haven for a second round, buying additional supplies and plastering the last of the flyers.

“It’s cheap food and entertainment. So, probably a fair amount.” Her companion answered, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. His green gaze didn’t move from the road. “Are you inviting anyone?”

“Who would I invite? You’ve been in Haven longer than I have.”

He huffed. “Sure, I have a head start of six months, but I’ve been away on missions. Some of them were with you.”

“As if I could forget.” The light changed, and the van continued on its path.

She had hoarded every piece of information she learned about him. He was an Elementalist like her, but his skillset was well-rounded, with a preference for ice. The tattoo under his collarbone was of three birds, belonging to a species with a distinctive call, which his clan had taken for their own name as well. That song had not been heard in decades though, and he always shut down when it came to the fate of Vale. He couldn’t join the military because he was Diminished, so he had been a mercenary for a number of years. He liked his khav strong and bitter, and his toast just this side of burnt. Alright, the last bit was extraneous, but it wasn’t like she wanted to make him breakfast or anything.

“Hey, E.”

“Yeah?” He responded in kind.

“What’s eggnog taste like?”

“Did they not have any in the desert?”

“It has raw eggs, right?” She glanced behind her, to the milk jugs and egg cartons they had purchased. The other bags had remained stationary, teeming with chocolate, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream cans. “It would spoil in the heat.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile. “True. Did you ever have custard?”

“Something like that, a milk and rice pudding my parents gave me once.” She remembered the little bowl in her hands, how she licked the spoon clean. Her mother and father, grinning as they watched her try the dessert for the first time.

“It’s similar, but more drinkable. You add cinnamon or nutmeg, and sometimes, alcohol. If you don’t like it, you can just stick to the cocoa.”

“I’ll try both.” She countered. “Do you add spices to the cocoa too?”

“Some people do. I like mine with cinnamon and a pinch of chili powder.” Interesting. Another thing she learned.

The car in front suddenly braked, and she swore. The van lurched, Erigeron’s solid arm bracing over her front. As they halted, way too close to be comfortable, his other fist slammed the horn. Up ahead, a couple scurried across the road. Noticeably, there was no pedestrian crossing.

“Tourists.” She scoffed.

“Too busy looking around them to care about anyone else.” He was still touching her, and he slowly pulled away, studying her face. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” Her pulse was elevated from the near hit. The intensity of his stare made her shift in her seat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He twisted around to examine the back, grimacing. “Hope nothing’s broken.”

“That would really suck.”

They started moving again, and she glanced at the speedometer. He must have caught her wary expression, because his rough baritone added. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”

Damn, that was really smooth. She fixed her gaze out the window, trying to think of icicles and snowstorms.

It was a matter of minutes before they parked at headquarters. As soon as he removed the key from ignition, a familiar figure entered the garage.

“Oh, wonderful. I was just about to call you, darlings.” Lavinet tossed her hair and marched out to meet them. “Have you procured what’s left on our list?”

“Sure did.” He grunted and removed his seatbelt. “Check for yourself before we bring them in.”

“No need, I trust you two.”

Unloading was going to take longer than expected; they would need multiple trips. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be leaking. Ayla took a few bags, but he stopped her from grabbing the next.

“You can go inside first.”

“I can take more.”

He firmly clasped her shoulder. “Nah, just come back. Everything will be here, and you must be cold.”

She was, but she nudged his side. “Hurry up, won’t you? Elementalists can still get sick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nevertheless, he smirked. Stupid, sexy, silver-haired Mage.

Lavinet held the door and joined her for a short distance, eyes glittering. “How was your outing?”

“O-outing?” She spluttered. “We were running an errand, that’s it.”

A lofty laugh escaped the other woman, shielded by a fur-lined glove. “You aren’t fooling me at all. I noticed those little touches. I expect every detail over appetizers, dear.” With a wink and wiggle of her fingers, the heiress glided off to her next task.

“Hey!” Her protest went ignored. Burrowing her face in her scarf, she redirected an air current to cool down. It wasn’t enough.

***

The door opened, and Halek glanced towards the direction of the noise. “You’re late-” He stopped, noticing that while the newcomer also had violet eyes, she wasn’t who he was expecting. Black hair was styled in a braided crown, with a finger’s width of white weaving down the left side. One hand gently closed the door, as she hastily ducked her head.

“Sorry, I’m not Briony. We switched last minute. I’ll be helping you instead.” She went to the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands.

“Well, I’ll take any help right now. What’s your name?”

“Kalmia.” She even pronounced it the way a Hunter would, the first syllable in the back of her throat. But she was a Mage, apparent enough from her eyes, and her hair color automatically disqualified her from being a pure-blooded Hunter.

“Are you a Battle-Mage too?”

“No, I’m a Healer.”

“That’s better. Briony means well, but she tends to break things and I need the stove today.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, as she turned off the faucet. “I read the menu. It does seem like a lot…”

“It’s why we’re the first ones in the kitchen.” The pot roast was going to take most of the day to cook, and the glazed ham was a new addition to his repertoire. But he was excited to try.

She joined him in peeling the carrots and potatoes, introducing herself. She had been adopted by Hunters in Maj; he vaguely recognized the town as a former refugee campsite. After they passed, she slowly made her way to Haven. Meanwhile, this was the first year he spent beyond the largest Hunter city, The Reach. She didn’t fawn over who he was, and perhaps, that could be chalked up to how distant Maj had been. Either way, he was secretly happy.

By five, the pot roast was keeping warm in the slow cooker, and he closed the oven door on the ham. “This will be ready in a couple hours.”

“And what’s next?”

“Next, I’m going to take a nap. You can do what you want in the meantime. I’ll be in the back.”

“Oh. Alright.” She looked around, hesitant. “Um, sleep well?”

His attempt at a nod was more of a head droop. “Later.” The nearest break room had a decent couch and when he stirred awake, he felt a little better.

And the kitchen hadn’t burned down. Kalmia was taking a kettle off the stove and acknowledged his return with a little wave. Her braid had been undone, her hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “I made tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure.” He yawned. When he sat down, a steaming cup was waiting for him. The liquid was a dark gold color, still spinning gently. Used to the blends their quartermaster liked to offer, he expected sugary sweetness. Instead, this herbal tea was surprisingly mellow, like chamomile at first, before giving way to a deeper bittersweet flavor. Complex and refreshing. “This is just what I needed.”

She beamed, hands wrapped around her own cup. “It’s one of my favorites from when I was living in Leore.”

He stared at her for a few moments, before remembering to look away. “You have good taste.” His phone suddenly vibrated and he scowled at the caller ID. He let it ring, watching as the inevitable voicemail notification appeared.

“Is it a spam call?”

“Worse. My fiancé. You know, Hunters and their arranged marriages.”

“You don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t. But the other choice is to condemn everyone at home, depending on more new Hunters.”

Her expression was melancholy, and barely above a whisper, she said. “If you’re trapped, it’s not a choice at all.”

The sentiment warmed him as much as the tea did. But there was also the ring of truth in her words and the strength of memory in her distant gaze. He wondered what had happened to her, who could have hurt her. If he wanted to, he could reach across the table and pat her shoulder. Pushing the thought aside, he refilled their cups. “I have a recipe for almond cookies. It’d go well with this, next time.”

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

The implicit promise cut through the tension, and he exhaled. “I’m free whenever. In the past, I always liked Wintersun, because I have the time to cook, eat, and sleep. Or because it has ‘sun’ in the name.” Halek dryly noted.

“Oh, that’s right. I like Wintersun too. The hanging laurel especially.” She sounded wistful. “Probably because Kalmia means laurel. But you already know that.” She added, self-conscious.

“Mm. Did your parents want you to fly?”

She laughed, for the first time that day. She seemed almost surprised by it, and tried to answer him but her giggles kept breaking through. “Me, flying? As a baby?”

Happiness suited her better than sorrow, and he started to shake with repressed laughter too, at the mental imagery of a pair frantically running after a dark-haired infant drifting away from a farmhouse. He didn’t have to think of other traditions involving laurel.

***

The icing smeared in a runny white trail, drawing a groan from Briony.

“Come on!” She glared at the sugar cookie she was currently decorating, and then at the rest of the tray she had wreaked havoc on. She thought switching to the dessert team would be more fitting to her skillset and it was, until the baking was done. Somehow, all of her miniature Shepherds appeared awkwardly proportioned at best and hideous at worst.

“Everything okay?” The kind voice meant to comfort but she only felt more ashamed. Gentian’s recreation of Tangriel’s Tower was the most impressive cake she’d ever seen, with its fudgy center and raisin-lined battlements. Also...he was really cute in an apron, with his blue-black hair gathered into a bun for convenience. Really cute, even if she was kind of jealous.

“Oh, it’s just fantastic.” She grumbled. “How do you make everything look so tasty?”

“I don’t know?” He sheepishly shrugged. “How are your-oh. Well...they’re definitely original.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Yeah, her creations stood out, compared to the cake, Tallys’s individual servings of Elvish trifles, and Shery’s traditional fairy bread. “But they should taste okay! I think...”

Gentian reached for one of the smaller cookies, intended to be one of the few replicas of herself and topped with light pink frosting and violet sprinkles for her eyes. He took a bite; she held her breath. She tried not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.

“This was your first time making them?”

“Technically, yeah. Shery read the recipe I was using and said it seemed alright. I just followed the instructions and hoped for the best. I mean, I don’t remember baking anything before.” Briony nervously laughed. Beyond the past few months, she only knew her name and the password to her phone, which had been wiped clean. The Shepherds had found her in an underground fighting ring, where he slipped inside to recruit her. The glaring lights had targeted his figure when he stepped forward as her next challenger. Unassuming at first glance, but she immediately recognized he was a skilled fighter, just by how he moved. “Anyway, what do you think?”

He smiled. “I think if the rest of the tray is just like this one, you won’t have any left at the end of tonight. It’s delicious.”

“Really?!”

“Try one for yourself.”

She chose another doughy Shepherd, a navy-colored mess, and chomped it down before he could notice. It was slightly warm, the edges crispy. Vanilla and sweet icing filled her mouth. “Ah, it’s good! I need to save that recipe…it should be in my phone’s history.”

“If you need help tracking it down, I can help.”

“That’d be great! But didn’t you only see it during this morning’s meeting?”

“It was enough.”

Now, she was certainly confused. “You memorized it in less than a minute?”

Hesitantly, he replied. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“Eidetic?” The word was unfamiliar.

“Photographic is another word. I don’t forget anything I’ve seen or experienced once.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! That’s like the opposite of my problem.” That earned her a laugh, which was encouraging. She paused. “But if you don’t forget anything, that includes things you don’t want to remember, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He became quiet, his thoughts obviously far away. She’d seen him like this on occasion, especially around the Ket members.

She strode around the table and as his blue gaze drifted to her, she hugged him.

“Briony?” His soft voice had dipped low, and the vibration against her cheek made her heart flutter.

“You look like you needed a hug. And Wintersun is exactly the time for hugs. Well, so is Lovelace Day, but that’s not right now!” Lovelace Day was also a long ways off, and she imagined it would be nice to spend it with him. If he agreed. “Is this okay?”

“It is.” His hand touched between her shoulder blades, with the lightest pressure. She was about to hold him tighter when there was the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Immediately, they let go of each other. Tallys stood at the door, appearing spotless despite the day’s work.

“I was about to ask if you two had finished.” She gave them a very pointed look. “But it looks like you just started. See you around.” As she spun on her heel, she was definitely smirking.

“Oops.” Briony grinned at him. He was even cuter when he blushed. “She crept up on us.”

“I should have noticed though.” He sighed but smiled when he finally met her gaze again. His expression was gentle, without a trace of sadness. “Thank you.”

“No problem. If you’d like any more hugs, just let me know.” She spread her arms in offering.

“I’ll remember.” His tattooed wrist lifted, and he quickly tugged a lock of her pink hair, his fingertips brushing her cheek. While she was still processing that, he cited a need for more powdered sugar and headed out.

Alone, she pressed her hands to her burning face. Maybe, she could pass by him under the hanging laurel later…

***

The party lasted into the late hours of the night, and by the end of it, the Shepherds were exhausted and trudging during the cleanup. The leftover prizes were fought over, though most somehow ended up in Caine’s arms, and there was enough cake remaining to bring home, so no one was going to leave unsatisfied. The laurel branches had been plucked clean, petals stuck to sleeves and clinging to mussed hair. The unanimous consensus was that it had been a success, one final fun celebration together before they began anew. And really, that was what Wintersun was all about.

#shepherds of haven #havenholiday2020 #standard disclaimer that i'm sorry if i've made mistakes

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sweetaesuga · 5 years ago

Text

rather be | jhs

pairing: hoseok x female reader

genre: angst, fluff, established relationship au!

warnings: age gap, language, parents disapproval.

word count: 2.1k

↳a/n: decided to post this since my jk fic is taking too long. this is a drabble for my upcoming jhs fic!

"I think they're going to hate me."

"They're going to love you, I don't know what you're talking about."

You shuffled awkwardly in front of the red door, black heels grazing on the cement. "I feel like I'm gonna make myself look like a complete fool," you whined to him, puffs of air are seen leaving you mouth due to the coldness.

Hoseok chuckled. "As if you already don't already do that," his smile surfaced as he remembered the first date you both went on and how timid you were. You could barely stand on your two legs like a baby giraffe that day but now you're glaring at him with your might. "I'm joking babe. They're going to—"

The door is thrown wide open, hitting the wall. Hoseok's mother stood there in her elegant black pencil skirt with a precious diamond necklace, hanging down her neck and matching earrings. Her eyes landed on Hoseok and she embraced him. Accompanied by a kiss on the cheek, she told him how much she missed him. He whined and promised her he would visit more often. Hoseok moved out of the way to make sure she got a good glimpse of you. She scanned you up and down, watching you gulp in uneasiness. Hoseok coughed to get his mother's eyes to return to him when he realized she was staring too long. She smiled at him, cheeks scrunching up. "Um, mom this is Y/N, my girlfriend."

Taking a deep breath, you prepare to greet her. "Hello," her hand stuck out in front you, a nice red color painted onto them.

"Hi!" you shook her hand, your glittery nails are now the center of attention as she glanced at them. "It's so nice to meet you!"

Your cheeks flushed at your ear-piercing tone. Hoseok's mother seemed a little taken back but veiled it with a small smile, not the same she gave your boyfriend however. "Hoseok talks a lot about you, we're so happy to meet you."

She stepped aside, making way for the two of you. Shutting the door in front of you, she walked over to the living room. "I'm sorry but Jiwoo won't be joining us today, she's busy at work like always," she mumbled the last part. You nodded, secretly a little grateful that his sister wouldn’t be here because the information eased your nervousness.

Hoseok wrapped your hand around his, reassuring you to just be yourself. He gave you multiple talks along the way, reminding you that if his parents would approve of a beautiful amazing girl like you, his words exactly.

His father appeared from the kitchen, waving slightly at you. His attire was the same as his wife, elegant and classy. A dark suit with a simple navy tie and a white button down shirt. “You're back from Seoul! And you even brought yourself a pretty lady," Hoseok's father grinned at you and went in for a hug. Your cheeks flushed even more at his comment, taking a whiff of his dark spiced cologne.

"Dad, this is Y/N, my girlfriend," his father whistled at him, happy that his son has finally found himself a girlfriend.

"Thank god! Was beginning to think you were gay or something," you can't help but let out a snort, Hoseok's glare quickly shushed you. "Seriously, he never brings over a girl. I mean, Hoseok you're thirty-three and haven't even thought of marriage!" you laughed in agreement and your boyfriend grimaced at the thought.

His father warmed up to you fast, walking over to the dinner where everything was prepared waiting for you. His parents sat across from the both of you, his mother chose to sit in front of you. The warm dish of jajangmyeon planted in front of you.

"Wow," the air in your lungs are knocked out from the delicious plate in front of you. "This looks amazing and I bet it'll even taste amazing."

His mother scoffed. "We didn't cook it, the maids did."

Hoseok distinguished the tone his mother was using on you, remembering it from the times her and his father fought. She had an attitude towards you. His hands enclosed around you, kneading your knuckles. You blinked, surprised at the fact they had maids but still apologized for assuming.

"Is this the house where you grew up?" you voiced to Hoseok, genuinely interested if he grew up in this lovely home.

His father slurped down his noodles, prepared to answer the question for him. "No, we moved like three times. He grew up in another house that we sold. It was a great house, just didn't feel right for us."

Nodding, you gazed around the dining room. White coated on the walls with a brown marble floor that evened the colors out. Instead of a source of light hanging from above, there was two plants hanged. The dining table was a weirdly shaped wooden plank on four poles that still added touch to the design. "This is very beautiful," you complimented, fully absorbed in the modern design.

"I designed it myself," his mother smiled in pride and stared up at the plants. His father grinned at her, reminding her how much of a great job she did. "I went through a lot of designs but I definitely had a thing for modern interiors."

"Seriously, I remember when everything was dark. It looked like Dracula's house, Y/N," Hoseok recalled, receiving a frown from his mother. Your lips curved upwards but tried to hold your laugh in. "It was black and red in here, you should've seen!"

His father laughed at him. "You think that was funny?" he challenged his son with raised eyebrows. Hoseok stopped eating his noodles to stare at him along with puppy eyes. "You should of seen what Hobi used to play with as a kid that now he's ashamed of."

On cue, Hoseok's eyes widened at the sudden memory his father was going to expose. You gave him a puzzled look. "What is it?"

"No dad, stop! That was um....when I was younger. You said you weren't gonna talk about this!" Hoseok reminded him, it only gets your curiosity to leap higher.

"What is it?" you asked, leaning forward. Hoseok's father glanced over at him, staring into his sunken eyes that lost hope.

"He used to play with a barbie when he was younger—which there's nothing wrong with that but Hoseok over here gets embarrassed about it all the time, it's too damn funny!" his wife laughed along with him.

You giggled and turned. Surely enough, your boyfriend was sitting uncomfortably in his seat with red flushed cheeks. He wore a grumpy frown on his lips. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Hobi." you teased him, pinching the cheek closest to you.

"So where do you come from?" his father started again once he calmed down, bringing a piece of noodles to his lips. His wife sat besides him, peacefully eating her portion.

"I originally come from Ulsan but I came to Seoul because I'm currently attending Hanyang University right now."

The table goes quiet and you're worried that you might've said something wrong. You went over your words in your head, trying to find what could've offended them. Hoseok's father stopped chewing for a moment as if he's processing what you just said to him. Hoseok sighed and grabbed your hand from under the table, not helping your anxious state.

Maybe it was the university you were attending? You couldn’t think of anything else besides that being the reason that caused the tension in the room.

"How old are you?" his eyes fixed on you, wandering of your features to try to determine the answer himself.

"Nineteen."

Hoseok's mother laughed, earning a scowl from Hoseok himself. She shook her head and drank her wine, telling herself things under her breath. "Oh my god you stupid girl, you really thought you could date my son just for his money."

A frown settled on your face. Your palms began to become sweaty. Hoseok's eyebrows furrowed, his jaw continually clenching and unclenching. "I'm sorry? I don't know where you guys got that idea." you laughed awkwardly but shut your mouth when his father sent you a glare. It's almost like his whole personality switched into an asshole.

Hoseok doesn't move his hand even when his father glared at him. "We're not dumb sweetheart. Little girls like you that can't afford college, of course you would be looking for a sugar daddy," his mother continued. She aimed her finger at Hoseok. "And you, you're smart enough to know this. And getting a girl like this? Hoseok, I thought we raised you better than that." she turned to you, her gaze piercing through you you're sure it left a two holes in your head. "He's supposed to be getting married by now but instead he's wasting his time with someone like you."

You bit your lip, unable to blink or else a tear will rush out. There's a huge pressure on your body right now as you try to compose yourself together and not cry in front of his parents, but with the sickening look his mother is giving it's hard to follow through.

"What is your guy's problems?" Hoseok's voice cuts in. His chair scratched the floor as he stood up in front of them. His hands clutched yours tightly, even when you tried to pull away. "Sugar daddy? Are you listening to yourself right now?!" his voice boomed throughout the room.

"Hoseok—" you're ready to stop him from defending you but he's quick to silence you.

"I know Y/N, she's not like that," his eyes searched for you glossy ones. You sniffed and peered up at him. "You guys just barely met her, you can't make those assumptions of her. I know she's not with me for money, hell she won't take that necklace I bought her," you faintly smile at the memory of Hoseok begging you to take the emerald stone necklace in the middle of a restaurant. You kept refusing however not wanting to wear that expensive jewelry around since you feared that it wouldn’t look good on you.

"Hoseok please, a much younger girl wanting a rich man like you? She's like ten years younger than you! You think she's ready to get married anytime soon?" his hands kneaded your sweaty palm. "You're thirty-three and she's nineteen! You both are at different points of your life, she probably just came out of the nest. This is not going to work out," his mother stressed, standing up from her seat. His father exhaled and laid back in his seat. "How much?" she asked all of the sudden.

"What?"

"How much to get you out of his life? Name the price and you'll leave him alone."

"Mom! What the hell?!" Hoseok embraced you when you let a sob escape your mouth. Your nose nuzzled in his chest, taking in his coconut body wash. "I can't believe you guys would go this low!" you never heard Hoseok this angry. Even during all those times you messed something up like one of his papers by spilling lemonade onto it, he would never raise his voice. "Y/N makes me happy and if you guys can't accept that, well then—"

"What Hoseok? Are you going to chose her over your own family?" his father finally decided to talk, chest heaving up to present himself as more assertive. You feel backstabbed by this man, a few minutes ago he was telling your stories of Hoseok playing with barbies.

Your boyfriend doesn't say anything to them at first. He solely gazed down at you, pressing his soft lips against your forehead. "Goodbye," he decided, pushing in both of our chairs. You don’t miss the despairing features on his parents face as you exit the house.

Even when you both reach his car, you haven’t stopped crying. He opened the door for you. Your eyes followed him as he walked around to his door. “Maybe your parents are right,” you croaked out, your voice vague from all the tears you’ve poured out. Hoseok stopped to look at you, eyes urging with you to continue. “What if people just see us like that? I’m a fucking gold digger and you’re a sugar daddy. I’m just with you for the money, I don’t want people thinking of me like that,” your voice cracked halfway.

Hoseok reached over the console to wrap his arms around you, giving your forehead a quick peck. “People who think that are just people that don’t know what do with their life and like to get into others’ businesses. I know you’re not a gold digger, Y/N.”

“I feel like such a bad person,” your hair stuck into your forehead as the tears poured out. You hiccuped into Hoseok’s shoulder. “You can’t pick me over your family, we need to break up.”

He shook his head, a tear managing to slip out. “No, I don’t ever want to break up with you. Y/N, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” you sniffed and glanced up at him, noticing his eyes and how tears were dangerously close to pouring out. He opened his mouth but shut it. A tear ran down his cheek and near his mouth.

“When I am with you, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

#hoseok imagine #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok scenarios #hoseok drabble #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #j hope x reader #j hope imagine #j hope scenarios #j hope drabble #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts angst #jung hoseok drabble

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dashielldeveron · 5 years ago

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Viper VII: De Minimis.

Summary: It’s overstimulation, but not the kind you want.

Warnings: swears, the law. Dogs and cats living together (mass hysteria).

You woke up numb.

Slipping out of the guest bed, you patted Trout behind her ears, and she meowed and flipped over. You lifted Tom’s keys from the bowl by the door and went for a drive before dawn.

While the sun began to rise over the distant city skyline, you made the first purchase of the day for a 7-Eleven and sat in the car outside of Tom’s house to enjoy half of an icee before thinking about it too hard and setting it aside.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at it last night, but Tom’s house in daylight was really something. It kind of pissed you off. It used to be a grist mill, but Tom had added on rooms, keeping with the worn, stone façade, and had taken off the water wheel long ago—a patchwork house. What’s more, it was out in the middle of theoretical nowhere. Once you got out of the trees, you could see the city out in the distance, but it was like it wasn’t even there if you didn’t know it was. He didn’t have a roommate, or anything; he owned the thing.

You sneaked into the house, careful not to let your bags rustle, but it’d been a waste; voices drifted under the swinging door to the kitchen. So, you let the car keys clatter into the key bowl, and the conversation in the kitchen paused for a moment.

Tom opened the swinging door and toed the doorstop underneath it. “Where’ve you been, sweetheart?” His smile was infectious. “You know how much I hate waking up to an empty bed.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not empty if you’re still in it.”

“Let me help you with those,” said Tom, and he took your two, plastic bags and walked into the kitchen. “Where’d you go?”

You followed him, his bare feet sticking to the tile. “I’d think the 7-Eleven logo would make it obvious.”

“Good morning, V.” Harry sat with crossed legs on the counter, already drinking.

That explains why Tom’s acting weird. Okay, did Harry and Sam know you worked for…? Wait, no, they didn’t know you were the Viper. They still thought you were dating, though. They think you’re expendable. What’s Tom told Harry this morning?

Follow his lead.

“Must say, you look less intimidating when you’re wearing my brother’s old clothes,” said Harry, eyes flittering down your body. You’d just pulled some shit out of a dresser last night to sleep in, and it’s not like anyone at 7-Eleven has ever seen soap.

“It’s completely normal, Harry; there’s no need to comment on it. Why’d you go out?” Tom slid the bags from off his arms onto the counter next to the sink, where he’d gotten out an egg carton and vegetables.

“I was getting soap,” you said, “and other toiletry shit. If I don’t have my normal shampoo, I’m gonna have a conniption.”

“Got it,” said Tom, bending to retrieve a frying pan from a drawer, “Grounding. Makes sense.”

“I heard about yesterday,” said Harry, and he set his glass aside to push himself off the counter, “Sorry about that. ‘S gotta be tough.”

The apartment? The fight? Polson? Which one’s he talking about? “Yeah, I, uh. Thank you. If it’s all the same to you, I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

Tom shot you a look over his shoulder. Smooth.

“Tom, where do you keep—do you have any chives?” Harry opened the refrigerator and stuck his head in, shifting his weight to one foot.

“Spice cabinet. Corner,” he said, jerking his head in that direction.

“Oh, ho, look at Mr. Fancy Man who can afford a spice cabinet,” said Harry, and he shut the fridge and walked in that direction.

“Hey, baby,” said Tom, cracking an egg into a tin, “What do you want in your omelette? Cheese? Peppers?”

Someone is willing to make you a warm thing to eat. You need to eat to fuel your body so that you can function. Take care of yourself. Someone is willing to help you do that.

“Actually, Tom, I’m just gonna have coffee. I don’t think I can eat anything right now. Too early.” And the icee stain on your tongue was still there. Glancing around, you—where’s the…?

“Oh, I moved the coffee maker since you were last here,” said Tom, giving you an easy smile, “It was getting in the way. It’s on the other side of the fridge, now.”

And so it was. As coffee dripped out of the nozzle, you had to wonder that if lying to his family comes so easily to Tom, who was exempt? Maybe Harrison, or perhaps some past girlfriends. Odds were, Tom kept everything close to his chest.

Did his family think you lived with him?

What reality are you playing into?

It’s too early for this.

By the time Tom was handing Harry’s fucking omelette with chives and Other Things, you were riffling through the plural flavours of creamer Tom had on hand. The luxury of choice.

“C’mon, sit down at the table with us,” said Tom, pinching your hip before washing the raw egg off his hands.

“Is it cool if I talk shop around your woman?” Harry was saying as you and Tom joined him at the kitchen table, “I know she knows about the maf—the family, but I don’t know to what extent.”

Tom squeezed your knee under the table, because he’d seen how you handle men who talk like you aren’t there. If that’s the view Harry has of you, then you can play along.

“Oh, please do,” you said, shifting in your seat, “It’s a turn-on.”

Tom struggled to swallow a bite of his eggs.

“Right, then,” said Harry, “Sam’s out with his crew delivering Abel from Sunnyside to Sugar Hill. Boundary crossing isn’t an issue for Abel, usually, but the D’Aleos have got a price on his head so big it’s wishing on a Zoltar. Abel hasn’t been able to get to the Whick house in time for moving his shit—wish he’d stop dealing in cocaine; the market’s unreliable—”

“Is he connected to whoever’s enabling the kids in Southside?” Tom set down his fork.

“Don’t know. Konstantin might be.”

“Tell him to stop. Four college kids have been admitted to the hospital this month for overdosing. There are shitty old men who can afford to buy it; let them.”

Harry took a sip of his morning liquor. “Move it where?”

“I’d rather he stopped, but if he can’t find anything else, the Flatiron or Garment districts. Can’t go to Tribeca or SoHo, because the police have a deal with the Fratellis in SoHo, and we’ve made an agreement with Tribeca not to deal there.” Tom pinched his lower lip. “Actually, put Abel in contact with Haz and get him involved in something else. Pass off his business to someone else. I don’t want it under my roof.”

Harry swallowed omelette with effort. “I’ll tell them. When’s the—”

You zoned out. You didn’t mean to. It started with focusing on your coffee’s warmth and how the mug fit well when you cupped it, and then you vaguely wondered what else you would have to acquire, besides the toiletries you bought. New clothes, for one. You had a change of work clothes at Osseous in a duffle bag, but other than that, you were now the owner of a single outfit (and one bra, damn it). Prescriptions. Cat food. Other cat stuff. Would Trout and Tessa get along…?

You snapped out of it when the back door creaked open. Tom, standing, put a hand on your shoulder, and he strode to welcome Sam into the kitchen, along with six or seven capos, Harrison, and a short woman wearing stilettos at this hour in the morning. The men—you knew their names and faces, but your brain scrambled them; you weren’t up to discerning which was which. You went to stand by the coffee machine, feeling small and in the way. It was too loud, anyway, and you couldn’t really concentrate on the conversation. Something felt off.

“…go well?”

“More or less. We ran into police we ain’t got on the payroll three blocks out of Sugar Hill. Didn’t much care for—”

The woman who’d been close behind Sam took a brief scan of the kitchen before losing interest and getting on her phone, leaning most of her body weight against the counter while mindlessly scratching Sam’s back. Deciding she needed to feel at home, you crossed to her.

“Hi,” you said, mirroring her body language as you too leant on the countertop, “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyes flitted from her phone to you, not looking you in the eyes but instead looking you up and down. “Yeah.”

“Do you need anything? Bathroom, something to drink?”

“No,” she said, scrolling through instagram.

Your stomach lurched. Maybe you should eat something. “You sure?” You raised your mug to your lips. “It wouldn’t be any trouble.” No response. “Did anything happen this morning?”

Her head lifted, her hand on Sam’s back stilling. “Hm? Did you say something?”

“I was wondering if anything unusual happened on the job today.”

“Nah,” she said, liking a post, “Didn’t know something was going on…” Trailing off, she opened a photo set and swiped through it. “…until it was over.”

“Well, if you’re ever out with this lot, or anything, and you don’t feel safe, then you can contact me,” you said, and you tore a paper tower off the roll to write down your number.

“Reno,” she said—she had turned her head towards a capo, “Jay says that you were right to call him out like that. He thinks it was funny.” Back to you. “I don’t need a direct line to Tom. Sam is great. And I don’t wanna get together and have a little girlfriends’ club.”

“All right, but if you ever—”

“Not interested.”

“Understandable. I hope your day is peaceful,” you said and retreated back to the coffee maker.

It still felt great to be mistaken for Tom’s girlfriend, but you could’ve explained yourself. You weren’t sleeping with Tom, even though—and you cringed at the thought—it had crossed the mind of everyone present.

“—being shitty about it, but they’re causing enough trouble that the other families are getting nervous,” said Sam, accepting a drink from Harry, “If we’re not careful, we’re gonna have to go to the mattresses.”

“I won’t allow that,” said Tom, “I’m doing my goddamn best to keep this city under control. Tighten watch on Southside, then. Move some of the guys working on—”

More coffee? More coffee. Palpable, warm thing to centre on. Try a different flavour creamer.

No. Pay attention, damn it; this is your work they’re talking about.

(You chose a fancier creamer this time.)

Tom was sitting on the kitchen table, now. “Did you find anything on the arsonist?”

Harrison shook his head, sucking in through his teeth. “Spent all night searching, and not a thing—”

Frowning, you took a few steps to enter the conversation, but the circle was tight; their body language was closed off (arms crossed, heads ducked slightly, feet only pointing towards others in the conversation, backs towards the rest of the room). You listened for a place to insert yourself into the conversation, but it never happened.

“At least now we know Fratelli and D’Aleo aren’t culpable. They weren’t even aware of a pattern. Fratelli sends his condolences, by the way.” Harrison jerked his head in the direction of the capos, talking amongst themselves about the next lift (a mark you’d assigned yesterday). “Sent the lads across the boroughs to interrogate isolated groups and petty gangs, and no one knows a fucking thing.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Talk to Sheila Lombardo about it?”

Haz shook his head. “Out of town. Out of country, actually. She’s in Munich. We left a persuasive message.”

Shifting his jaw, Tom sighed, staring at the floor before catching your eye. He extended his arm and beckoned you come to him. “We got anyone in town who’s good with mapmaking?” He slid an arm around your waist, his fingers dragging across the small of your back first.

Yes, fuck. Fucking. Physical fucking comfort. His arm’s around your waist; no one’s ever done that. It’s a warm, comfortable weight that you’re going to feel the absence of. “DeForest should—”

He gave you a sharp squeeze. He wasn’t talking to you.

“Last I know, Kelley’s free,” said Harry. “He’s just finished a commission in Brooklyn.”

“I hear Nyota and DeForest are in town, too,” said Harrison, nodding almost imperceptibly at you, “should you want to contact them. Neither is on payroll, but they’re good.”

“At your discretion,” said Tom, “pick one and tell him to draw up the city with the fires in relation to the sewer cases. Work with him to make connections.”

Sam rattled off some bullshit, and the capos were growing louder, a constant lull in a background nearer than it should’ve been. You sipped your coffee, cupping it with both hands. The first creamer had been better. Listening attentively, Tom gently took your mug and took a few swallows himself before handing it back to you. Rude.

“Then what about her flat, then?” Harry jerked his thumb in your direction.

“Do another sweep of the building tonight,” said Tom, “Two people should go to the fire station and two more to the police. Find whatever was the fire starter.”

“Did I tell you what happened when we were up in New Utrecht?” came a capo’s voice.

“You should’ve been there,” said another.

“We’ll do another search of her flat, then,” said Harry, “Didn’t find anything worthwhile last night, but if you think it’s profitable.”

“You sure it’s worth it?” Sam grimaced. “The only recognisable thing we saw last night was what must’ve been bookshelves.”

“We’re gonna be meticulous about this one,” said Tom.

“I hadn’t made it there in time.” A capo. “I’d’ve rather been in Jersey than be in that house that night, but it was part of the job, so we went.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve,” said the one next to him, elbowing him.

“Swear it on my life,” said the first, holding up his hands, “The atmosphere was that off.”

“Made me realise why book burnings are among the first ways to protest,” said Harry, “It’s just sad. Unnecessary. But I couldn’t identify fucking anything besides that.”

“I expect you to follow through.”

“All right, I guess, but we ain’t gonna find anything but ashes.”

“Haz,” you said under your breath, and Harry talked over you as he shook Tom’s shoulder. “Where’s Zendaya?”

He took note of the Hollands’ exchange before replying. “She said she’d be in the Heights.”

“She said?”

“I don’t know.” Haz scratched the back of his neck. “That’s from our last contact.”

“May I see?”

Her contact name had a heart by it.

Z: Gonna be in Washington Heights today. You need me?

Harrison: Don’t worry about it, babe. Today’s covered. Free at 1845 hours. Watch starts at 2330 Manhattan. Meet in the break?

Harrison: Can be at mine or yours, but let me advertise that I’ve cleaned recently.

Z: Busy tonight.

Z: Maybe a couple of days.

Harrison: I’ll call you later.

Z: Don’t. Busy with work. Could compromise me.

Harrison: Gotcha. Check in with me at some point.

“She hasn’t been answering calls, either,” said Haz. “It was two days ago, but the arson got in the way of me worrying.”

You returned his phone, and Tom tightened his grip on your waist (hell yeah). “How often does this happen?”

Harrison leant in closer, crossing his arms. “More and more recently, but she usually tells me she’s alive in the morning.”

“Sound good to you, babe?” Tom pulled you closer—you faced him, mug knocking against his chest; his hand splayed flat across your back.

“Does what?”

“—a complete disaster, seriously fucked up,” said a capo, “Not gonna do that again.”

“Can’t afford to make any more mistakes on the job,” said another.

“You weren’t listening?”

“I plan to try again next Thursday and see if it’s any different.”

“She and I were talking. My fault.”

“If you can manage to bat it away from him one more time, then it’s in the bag.”

“Sweetheart?”

The sound of the other woman’s long nails scratching against the thick fabric of Sam’s suit cut over the noise for a split second.

“Excuse me.” You set your mug on the counter with a shaky clink and left, retreating to the first door connected to the kitchen—the laundry room.

You shut the door behind you, sighing at the sound of the latch clicking, and you sank down against it. You made a frustrated noise and pushed yourself up with effort, and you placed one hand on the washing machine—cold edges, warm centre, throbbing, low white noise—and the other on the pantry door—rough wood grain (vertical), smooth paint, cool toned, squeaky. You flicked off a piece of dog food sticking to your foot, and, taking a deep breath, you bent to rest your forehead on the dryer.

The door creaked open and shut. “Viper? Viper, are you okay?”

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead into the dryer’s edge further. “Does it look like I’m okay?”

“Right, right, of course.” Tom rubbed his palms together and then clenched his hands. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m,” you said, “I’m tired.”

Tom was at your side, close enough to feel his body heat but not enough to touch you. Damn respectful man. “Is it me? Did I go too far?”

“A bit, yeah,” you said, standing upright and reaching up to feel the indent in your forehead, “They know it was my apartment; they went through it. How much did you tell them about me?”

“Sam and Harry know you’re the Viper now. Still think we’re dating, so they can hold a conversation with our mom about our social lives. Quick briefing, no time for contradictions.” He bit his thumbnail. “Those capos are from Sam’s crowd. Don’t think they directly know you’re the Viper; they just know you’re important to me.”

“The same with Sam’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Would’ve been nice of you to update me.”

“All right,” he said, “I will next time. You followed along just as well, though.”

You jumped to sit on the dryer, your legs dangling next to him and your hand less than an inch away. “I can’t be on top of my game all the time.”

Tom turned around, resting his elbows on the dryer—his forearm grazed your thigh. “How can I help? What do you need to be comfortable here?”

“So I am camping here for the time being.”

“If you want to go to a hotel, that’s fine,” said Tom, tapping his thumbs together, “but seeing as you’d better go into hiding for a while, I figured this might be more convenient for you.”

No way in hell are you leaving. You’re going to learn as much about Tom from his house as long as you can—although the thought of being a burden crossed your mind. “I figured.”

“It was a near-direct attack on you, or at least, it was too much of a coincidence.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, with you swinging your legs to the muffled sounds of an argument in the kitchen.

“If it’s it’s money—”

“It’s not,” you said, “You know what you pay me.”

He cocked his head but said nothing.

“If you’re asking what I was doing in a crappy apartment, it was too much of a hassle to move.” You prodded the pantry door closed with your foot. “After sending some to my mother and paying off my student debt, I didn’t really have anything to do with it. Sent some to Dr. Prine for her law journal. Some to Grace and her women’s centre. An anonymous donation to the Morgan Memorial Hall of Gems; Ms. Pham was complaining, and if she knew I did it, she wouldn’t shut up. Everything else is in a savings’ account. I can pay rent, if you want. I don’t want to be a freeloader.”

“If it makes you feel better.” Tom shrugged. “But you’re staying?”

“If you’re okay with that. It’s nice for Trout to have this much space.”

His mouth twitched upwards. “It’s fine. It’s a big house, and it’s just Tessa and me.”

“You’re used to living alone,” you said, and you slumped back atop the dryer, the timer knob cutting into the back of your neck as you laid your hands on your stomach. “I’ll keep to myself, I swear. I can be clean; I’ll cook my own shit. You won’t see me if you don’t want to. I’ll be the most boring roommate ever for you.”

“I doubt that,” said Tom, smiling.

“And you don’t have to worry; I’ll do my own grocery shopping—I have to get new clothes at some point, replace my linens. Move pharmacies. Get new prescriptions. Find a new—”

“Viper, honey, you don’t have to be so wor—oh, my God.” He took your hand and climbed on top of the washing machine, and he reached up to smear off your tears—close to cupping your face, but so far: his fingertips touched your skin; the full length of his fingers and palm did not. Scanning your face for any other clues, he opened and shut his mouth, tightening his hand around yours and resting them in your lap. Kept silent. Waited for you.

No one’s ever done that for you.

“I’m tired,” you said, licking your lips (his eyes flickered to them for a moment), “I’m so, so tired. I don’t know rightly what, but I can’t do it. It’s exhausting. It’s a lot. I just want to sleep and not have to put on a show for one minute. I don’t want to keep it up all the time. I don’t think I can. I’m—I’m tired.”

And Tom waited.

“They burnt my books, Tom,” you said, “They burnt my fucking books.”

“My library’s your library,” said Tom, dragging his fingertips down your cheek and letting it fall to your lap, where they joined his other hand in holding yours. “Do whatever you want with it. You can add whatever you want, take what you want.”

“It’s so fucking trivial—”

“It’s not.”

“—but thank you. Thanks.” You sniffed, rubbing an eye with the heel of your palm. “I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up over this. It’s so dumb.”

“Your fucking flat burnt down, Viper. It’s the most logical reaction in the world.”

“I’m gonna need to get stuff for Trout and tell my therapist my address has changed.”

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s put aside what you need for a while,” he said, brow furrowing, “Viper, what do you want?”

You were taken aback. Sitting up, you took a moment before saying, “I want space, and I don’t. I don’t know anything. I just know that I can’t be alone.”

Raising his eyebrows, Tom nodded. “Done. You set the boundaries. I’ll follow your lead.” He managed a weak smile. “Although, I’d like it if you didn’t come into work for a few days to recover.”

“I can do that. I probably should,” you said, “I will. I’ll stay here. Just—please don’t tell me anything for a bit. I don’t think I’ll be able to recover worrying about what’s going on at work.”

“Agreed. You can have leave for as long as you want. I want you to leave it all to me.”

So, you slept for the rest of the day.

And the next day.

And the next.

***

Setting aside the astronomy book and your growing, hand-drawn star map, you covered a yawn and shut the window. Ensuring Trout, curled into a ball on your pillow, really was asleep, you flipped off the light switch and made your way to Tom’s room.

You listened through the door.

“I’ve got the Murtagh notes here.” His muffled voice spoke into a phone, and someone on speakerphone answered. “I’ll get them to you tomorrow. I’ve already looked through them, but I want you to cross-reference them to the Bauman folder, yeah.”

He’s doing work you usually do. Cute.

You knocked.

“Call you back,” said Tom as you opened the door, and he ended the call and muted the newscaster. “Are you doing okay? Need anything?”

Shaking your head, you said, “I wanted to be near you. I don’t have a reason.”

He grinned, which he suppressed into a close-mouthed smile that was almost a straight line. “Come on in, then. I’ll clear all this.” He straightened some stacks of files and was placing them on his bedside table when you joined him on the bed (the bed). “Something you wanted to talk about? Then why don’t you pick out a movie; we can both chill for a bit.”

Halfway through The Rocketeer (lying too close to each other, but still not touching; the closest was Tom’s triceps grazing the top of your head—he had folded his arms behind his head), Tom’s phone beeped. “Ffffuck,” he said, “That means it’s important. Otherwise it’s on silent.”

You tore your gaze away from the screen, instead taking in the curve of his bicep, the rise and fall of his chest, the—the deep scowl on his—

“Viper, you’ll want to see this.”

“I don’t want to see anything unless it’s your bare pectorals,” you said.

A brief smile, fading into a wince. “I mean it, Viper.”

“I’m on leave.”

You took his phone when he held it out.

A screenshot of Zendaya’s instagram account. The most recent post: a bedroom selfie. Zendaya was asleep, her hair spread across her pillow. The one who’d taken it was a shirtless man, pale, no discernible skin marks. Face cut off above a caustic grin. Black stubble. Sharp teeth. Necklace with a charm—a bell. Both of them under the covers; otherwise, it’d be exposed skin.

And a caption:

When you find out she’s all hat and no cattle Then you find out why a snake starts to rattle

***

de minimis: about the small things.

***

taglist: @hollandroos @bornsickbutilove @parsleysbaby @madmadmilk @magstorrn @tomhollandd @pparkerwrites @qxeen-of-hearts @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @parkerbassett @paradoxparker @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gryffinpuffs @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue @cassiopeiaskies

#tom holland #tom holland/reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #mob au #mob tom #Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #viper au #dash it all

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melo-yello · 6 years ago

Text

Baking with the Wakandan Royals would include:

A/n: I've been watching a ton of baking shows lately so I've been mad inspired to write some domestic headcanons.

*I added Shuri

T'Challa

If you mention to this man you're thinking about baking he's already checking for necessary ingredients quantities and locating the measuring cups

T'Challa's need for order and a systematic approach to life can either be really helpful when you're baking or really annoying

This man takes pride in prepping the pan

I mean oiled, floured, and lined with parchment

T'Challa didn't come to play. He got a cake stuck one time and he's never been the same

I'm tellin you he's a complete ace when it comes to measurements

This man will measure, level, sift, and whisk together the dry ingredients in less than 90 seconds

"Here you go, Love." handing you the bowl and kissing your temple

He even will have the separate little glass bowls in various sizes like he stepped out of his very own cooking show

T'Challa is definitely the clean as you go type

Boi is washing dishes almost as fast you can make them

I've got that, Sweetheart." snatching up dirty bowls and taking them to the sink like clockwork

You already kno he's a stick to the recipe type of guy

You kno better than to tell him "We can just eyeball it" or end any measurement/cook time with "or so"

He will absolutely lecture you on the acute chemistry of baking

After so many times of 'sneaking' in extra pinches of 'this' and 'that' and him catching you'll be forced to put him out to stop his constant meddling

"Challa, I swear to Bast if you say one more thing about the 'balance of baking' and don't get yo ass outta this damn kitchen, Shuri will be an only child!"

He occasionally peeks back in offering his two cents before you glare at him and he slinks back to whatever he's preoccupying himself with

Once everything out of the oven and cooled you can't help but smile and bring T'Challa a goodie for all his efforts and help even if he's kinda a pain

Erik

He will 100% be minding his own business until he peeps you in the kitchen baking something

He immediately steps in to take over whether he knows what you're making or not

Deadass has slid across a counter, swiped the bowl, stuck the landing and been like "Ok Ma, what am I makin?"

Boi will even take your apron and do it smooth as hell too

The first time you thought he was trying to be freaky by grabbing ya ass and kissin all down ya neck in the kitchen but before you knew it the apron was untied and around his neck and he was stirring the bowl that was just in front of you

Growing up basically raising himself and being bounced around from relative to relative made learning to cook essential and he's a pretty damn good at it

And he knows it

Erik deadass cooks like somebody's Auntie

"Baby, lemme go ahead and do that." Is something you'll hear every step of the way

He'll just stare at the recipe for .5 seconds then be like "Do that shit, That shit right there and it'll be bland as hell!"

Erik starts off measuring but gradually shifts into eyeballing everything

He's prone to add pinches of different spices that are no where to be found in the recipe

Erik refuses to cook in silence and will always throw on one of his playlists

Y'all bop all the way from TLC to Daniel Caesar to Anderson. Paak

When all the baking is done Erik loves to humble brag about his baked treats

"Yea me and Bae, kilt that shit." Or "Oh you know, Babygirl can throw down"

That is until his cousin says something

T'Challa: "These are great."

Erik: "Damn Straight it is, T'Chump! Didn't kno my baby could FUCK it all da way up! Who you think taught her that! Who!"

M'Baku

*nervous laughter*

M'Baku has an enormous sweet tooth but can't bake to save his life

Not that hasn't tried but most of those trails ended in flames

Since then the great gorrilla has been banned from most of the palace kitchens

Naturally when you ask "Baku, help me bake some cookies."

He's a little hesitant

M'Baku tries to explain to you that his strong suit is really savory and much rather do anything

He really hates that he's not naturally good at it like most things he does (fighting, leading, flirting, etc.)

This gets him out of helping the first few times before you drag him in kitchen promising "Trust me, I can teach you. It can't be that bad."

With M'Baku's help be prepared to remake batters at least twice

He's either heavy handed or extremely light handed there's absolutely no inbetween with him

He's gonna apologize each time he messes up no matter how many times you tell him it's fine

You put him on mixing duty but he gets bored so he starts distracting you

"Oh that look absolutely scrumptious, My Love." grabbing your ass as measure out brown sugar

"That tastes amazing, My Queen." giving you bedroom eyes as he sucks your finger clean of the batter you were about to taste

"You smell like heaven, Dear Heart." nipping at your neck as you place a pan in the oven

This is also the kinda man that eats as you bake

As soon as they hit the cooling racks he's bodying half of them

Putting up high doesn't work either when your mans is 6'5" and can reach all your hiding places

Only on rare occasions do you actually have sweets to show for you efforts if you only make one batch

3 seems to be the sweet spot since M'Baku eats half of 2

He actually does pay attention when you show him how to do things correctly and each time he makes fewer mistakes and he's so proud of himself

Shuri

Shuri is allergic to anything remotely domestic. Not that its difficult she just isn't interested

Mysteriously she always has all the software updates to do when you ask "Wouldn't it be fun to help me bake something?"

"Yes, My King?!?!" Shuri yells running down the hall after a very confused T'Challa that tells back "Stop calling me that!" as the two run in the opposite direction as you

She's definitely not above making up tech tasks to get out of being forced into baking

"Oh I'd love to but I need to check... Erik's torso to make sure he's healing ok. Too bad he's shy so you can't come." She shrugs pulling Erik into lab before he can get in a word

Or "Oh yes Sergent Barnes, I do have time to look at the mechanics of each synapses of every nerve ending in your arm. This could take a while." practically tackling Bucky as he enters the lab

The only way to get her there is by treachery

"Shuri, come quick! The stan mixer is smoking you have to fix it. Or I'll never bake again." is enough to get her to bolt out of the door and into the kitchen

There's no way she can let your Double Fudge Sea Salt Pecan brownies vanish from her life

"This mixer is absolutely fine, Y/n. Don't scare me like that ev..." trailing off as she turns to see you locking the door to the kitchen

"Noooooooooooooooooooo!"

Once she finds that all exits are blocked off

Vents, windows, and personal secret passages she has installed for times like these

She starts offering 'helpful' advice to really 'expand' your baking horizions

"I'm telling you, Y/n, 1 and 1/4 teaspoons of white vinegar would really help these sweets raise to the ocassion." as she presses record and steps back

You soon learn after several batter explosions and looped videos and gifs sent across the Insta, Twitter, and Snap she can't be trusted

"Oh come on,now! How was I supposed to know it was going to do that?" Laughing as you glare at her wiping yet another batter blow up off your face

Before you accept her advice now it is questioned with "And if I add that it won't end up in my face?"

Shuri will pause then offer something else because she's no evil just mischievous

She pretends to be bored out of her mind the whole time even though she's mentally pocketing all the little steps so she can later try by herself

Every once in a while she'll hit you with an absolutely old school but completely clutch trick you've never heard of before (most likely something she picked up from cooking with Queen Mother) and you pause to look at her

Like "Where the hell did that come from?"

She just shrugs and offers some off the wall flavor combo to throw you off her trail

"Chocolate and peanut butter? Boring. How about anasis and chardonnay." genuinely curious about the combination

Shuri loves to experiment and play with structures and variables esspecially in the kitchen

So tell her your trying to make a souffle or flan and she's there automatically no plots involved or locked doors

Afters all the sweets and practical jokes are out of the oven and cooling and the doors are unlocked

Shuri takes a treat or two and hums looking satisfied with your team work "This was actually fun." mouth half full and gives you a quick hug before leaving

Ever so often she'll come of her own prompting to you wanting to be shown how to make a cookie or some other baked good

And you do but as soon as they're done

She steals like 75% of the goodies as you check some of the few left in the oven and splits them with M'Baku who was already waiting at the door and they run down the hall like small children

Always leaving a note "XOXO, Princess Shuri" and scribbled in the biggest calligraphy that is usually saved for royal documents "Thx from Great Gorrilla,M'Baku" at the scene of the crime

#black panther #erik killmonger #michael b jordan #t'challa #chadwick boseman #m'baku #winston duke #m'baku x reader #t'challa x reader #erik x reader #headcanon #black panther headcanons #baking #domestic black men #domestic wakandans #shuri #shuri x reader #letitia wright

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jootsmcgoots · 4 years ago

Text

The Bright Side, Chapter 1: Bloom Effect (Abbacchio x GN!Reader) SFW

This was the 2nd fic I wrote, and in a way it was kind of a continuation of my first Abbacchio fic. However, I ended up choosing to make it a gender neutral reader instead of a female reader because I ended up noticing that I never did use pronouns in this fic.

So my rationale was like “Hey if I don’t use pronouns, I may as well make it a GN fic because then anyone can enjoy it.”

However this of course does not exempt anyone from the punnery LMAO

Anyways. I wrote this one because my friends were like “hey wouldn’t it be great if abbacchio were also good at puns because he seems like the sharp type”

and i was like “holy fuck i’d just fall in love with him even more. i’d have to propose on the spot.”

And so I wrote this LOL

This is a two-parter, so I’ll post the second chapter in a hot minute.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Genre: Fluff (with a pinch of spice)

Word count: 1962

Summary: Abbacchio constantly calls your jokes stupid, but it turns out he has a talent for them too.

And really, when your (overly serious) significant other can rattle out some real dumb jokes at the same rate (if not faster than) you do, how can you NOT fall deeper in love with them?

Chapters: 1 / 2

Chapter 1: Bloom Effect

AO3 Link!

“Leo---”

“No.”

“But I haven’t ev---”

“No.”

The two of you had been laying together on your shared bed. Set to a low volume, music was playing on the radio in the background as you both just enjoyed your day together, no missions or any gang business going on. You had been propped up against Abbacchio’s chest and idly reading a book and just enjoying his quiet company while he would occasionally read over your shoulder and make a comment about the story, prompting some conversation before you both settled back into reading quietly. You both liked it like this; even if you were the more talkative and outgoing of the two, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy quiet time, especially when it was with him.

But of course, that didn’t stop you from being a little shit with him. Like the joke you had just made about him “taking a page from your book” (which earned a groan), and then telling him you knew he’d react like that because you could “read him like a book” (which in turn elicited a disgruntled “Really?” while you snickered in amusement).

After he had cut you off for the second time, you made a pouting noise and puffed your cheeks out as you rolled onto your stomach to face him. “You’re no fun.” You said that, but it was no secret that you loved his reactions (after all, why would you bother him so often?), as your face displayed a sunny, shit-eating grin.

“And you’re always so grumpy,” you added. At that, you sat up and began to poke at his face, using your index fingers to push the corners of his lips into a forced smile, pressing his cheeks higher up on his face. “Lighten up!” You giggled at the sight of his mouth being pulled into such an exaggeratedly happy expression, while his eyes and brow both communicated sullen annoyance. If it had been anyone else, Abbacchio may have swatted their fingers off of his face, much less even let them touch him like this. For you, he tolerated the gesture.

And anyways, it was no secret that he loved your smile.

He took your wrists into his hands and removed your fingers from his face. “I can be plenty of fun,” he replied in that gruff tone of his. “It’s just that your jokes are always so stupid.”

“You love them.”

“I don’t.”

“You love me.”

He removed his hands from your wrists and into your hands, holding them gently.

“I do.”

You flushed slightly and chuckled fondly as you settled fully onto his lap. “I knew it.”

“Don’t push it.”

But now he was smiling, even if just a tiny bit, and you knew you had won. You laughed softly and pressed your forehead against his. Abbacchio closed his eyes into the gesture, a more prominent smile forming on his features. You lifted away from his forehead, then leaned back in to press a little kiss to his cheek once, then twice. Moving from his cheek, you gave him a peck on his nose that earned you a pleased hum. Then, slowly, your lips captured his in a gentle kiss that he reciprocated with a contented sigh that was so soft that you almost didn’t notice it.

Once you separated from him, you couldn’t help but give him a small but cheeky smile. “Even so, you really could stand to lighten up, you know…” you said, trying to get a rise out of him. “You’re still such a grump.” You pressed another kiss to his cheek. “But don’t worry. I still love you.”

Abbacchio ‘hmph’-ed before locking eyes with you. You blinked and chuckled, tilting your head at him. “What? You gonna throw me somewhere again?”

He shook his head ‘no’. Instead, he gathered up the crumpled blanket from the foot of the bed and tossed it onto you as you squawked in surprise as you were suddenly enveloped in cotton and down. “My apologies for being such a wet blanket.”

You blinked from underneath the blanket. Did Abbacchio make…a pun? Peeking your head out from underneath your soft and downy prison, disbelief painted your features as you blinked a couple of more times before starting to smile widely. The grin on Abbacchio’s face was smug, quite gratified that he had managed to shut you up.

“Best cover up your mouth, amore. You’ll let flies in.” He punctuated his point by bringing up a corner of the blanket over your mouth.

“Ha! Haha! Oh my God!” You practically jumped up and squealed in delight, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “That’s hilarious! I had no idea you were capable of such punnery! Leone! Holy shit!” Giggling, you clapped your hands in pure mirth as you began to sit up on your knees.

Abbacchio quirked his eyebrow at you, expression neutral again, and said in a completely serious and even tone, “Don’t you mean holy sheet?”

If you had thought it was impossible for your expression to become even more shocked (while still entirely delighted), you were quickly proven wrong as you felt your mouth gape further. “Pff! Hehe…! Ahaha!” You had thrown your head back and started laughing uncontrollably, feeling tears forming in your eyes. At this point, your stomach had hurt from all the laughing and you doubled over with a soft thump onto the bed, still rolling around and convulsing with laughter.

You weren’t quite sure what was funnier: the fact that Abbacchio was delivering these jokes with the same solemn expressions he wore during meetings or mission briefings, the speed at which he came up with these puns, or the very fact that it was Leone Abbacchio, big angry serious goth man with a stick up his ass so big that it may as well have been a tree, making silly, stupid puns with you.

And God did you love him all the more for it.

Once you had caught your breath and wiped the tears from your eyes, you peered up at him from your laying position, the blanket snugly wrapped around you. “Whew…haha! I can’t believe you came up with those so quickly! That was great! You’re just great! I swear, I find something about you that makes me love you more and more every day.” A realization seemed to cross your face as you looked up at him with what seemed like reverence. “Oh man, Leone, I love you. Aha! Holy shit, I love you so much! Did you know that?” You gave a breathy kind of laugh as you rolled onto your side. “Let me show you just how much! If you know what I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him and proceeded to wiggle around in the blanket, having entrapped yourself further during your fits of laughter. “Just. Just gimme a second.”

Your advances made Abbacchio snort out a short laugh that he couldn’t repress. You weren’t really the definition of “sultry” and “seductive” at the moment, all rolled up in a blanket like a human burrito. It would be the first time he was ever propositioned by what looked like a sentient cannolo. One that threw him bedroom eyes and looked at him like he was the answer to all of life’s questions and beheld him as such.

Your boyfriend just watched you as you tried to worm your way out of the blankets and your pants simultaneously. He was about to comment that it might be easier if you tackled one problem at a time, but by then you had managed to roll right off of the bed and you hit the ground with a muted thump and an “oof!” that was soon followed by some startled laughter.

He shook his head at the sight and sighed out, “You’re such an idiot. How you made it this long is beyond me.” Resting his elbow on his knee and bringing his knuckles against his lips, Abbacchio remained sitting on the bed as he observed you trying to recollect yourself, struggling a bit on the floor to no avail. Though he knew you were too busy fighting the blanket to see him properly, he still chose to hide the rather large grin and fast-growing blush that was forming on his face. At your ungraceful but earnest outburst of love, his heart swelled in a way that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He could feel not only his cheeks but also his ears burning up with a flush that betrayed his attempts to bite back the sappy and equally-in-love grin on his face.

Leone Abbacchio’s heart did not flutter or other silly things like that; he was no longer some inexperienced greenhorn, no longer a bright-eyed young man with glittering eyes. No, he was a grown man, hardened and embittered by the darkness in the world around him, dammit! There was no way he was feeling like a schoolboy who had received his first love letter! And yet here he was, with his heart pounding against his chest at a thunderous tempo that was absolutely impossible to ignore and a warmth that was so hot and bright that he felt like he was going to explode from sheer happiness.

You loved him. You loved him to the point of bursting. He could hear it in the unspoken quality of your words, see it in the flashes of light in your eyes, and felt it from the bottom of his heart in the upward curve of your smile.

A deeper, buried part of Abbacchio hoped you knew that he loved you that much too. Maybe even more so. He really, really hoped you knew. For now, though…

“There! I’m---WHOA!” The moment you freed yourself from your fleecy confines, you found yourself entangled in yet another set of confines. Abbacchio had gotten to his feet and hoisted you up and into his arms. Finding yourself underneath his intense stare and suddenly so close, you squirmed a little as a familiar heat stirred within you. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to this sort of closeness; he just had a look on his face like he was ready to devour you whole.

As if to make good on your assessment, Abbacchio caught your lips in a kiss that started out chaste enough before it began to deepen, a sweep of his tongue over yours turning the words on your lips into soft, unintentional moans. He pulled back to look into your eyes, now half-lidded and entranced, and smiled at you with a vulnerability he reserved only for a select few.

And then he dropped you back onto the bed. A noise of surprise left your mouth as you landed on the mattress, bouncing slightly. Regaining your bearings, you chuckled, “And here I thought you were going to throw me anywhere today.”

“I didn’t throw you this time.”

You rolled your eyes and were about to retort, when you were greeted with the sight of Abbacchio pulling his shirt off of himself. As his long hair fell back into place, you drew a breath at the sight of the silver threads settling over his toned shoulders and chest. Light filtering in from the crack in the curtains made him seem all the more ethereal and mesmerizing to you in this moment. Catching you staring, Abbacchio smirked in a way that seemed equal parts loving and wolfish. “Well, cara? Weren’t you going to show me just how much you love me?”

Your blinked, his words calling you back into the very beautiful reality in front of you, and then you grinned widely at him. Bringing your hand to your forehead in a mock salute, you chirped eagerly, “Si, signore!”

#niko writes #my writing #my fic #my fanfiction #fluff #fluffy #sfw #reader insert #gn pronouns #leone abbacchio #vento aureo #pinch of spice #suggestive #slightly suggestive #punnery #puns #god we just got puns up the butt today yall

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maelabraaten · 4 years ago

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Survival Tips - The Best Emergency Food Kit

Which Needs The Best Emergency Food Kit? Who knows what the future holds? If only we knew, day to day, what challenges would arise, we would never be caught unawares. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way. Those who prefer to look forward and make preparations for the "just in case" scenarios are often painted as fringe lunatics and doomsday preppers. However , assembling the best emergency food kit for yourself and also your family should be something every responsible adult takes seriously. Just a few of the "normal" situations that could arise, when having emergency rations for your family would make sense, include: loss of a job, temporary lay off, extended storm damage or power outage that traps your family at home. Or perhaps you'd just like to be a position to help another family in need, should the opportunity arise. Then there are Armageddon type examples that plague the mind of some, and no better way to put those fears to rest than to look ahead and prepare for the worst. Whatever your reasons for looking forward and setting up emergency rations against a difficult time ahead, we are here to help you build the very best emergency food kit for your family. Identifying Your Needs First, lay out your preparation strategy. If you're just getting started in emergency preparation, you do not have more than a day or two worth of food in your cupboard. If that's the case, building up a thirty day supply of food is a good place to start. If you already have 30 days of emergency rations laid by, the next step may be building up a six month or year emergency food kit. The important thing is to start somewhere, and build your supplies up until you've assembled the best emergency food kit that you're able. Who ? re You Feeding? Do you have children in the house? Teens? Older or elderly adults? Infants will require special feeding accommodations like milk or formula, while the elderly may have some unique nutritional needs, as well. Map out on paper who you're building a food supply for and any special things you need to prepare for them, or for yourself. Then consider what it takes to feed that person for a single day. How Many? Once you've published down what it takes to feed one person for one day, you'll need to multiply that by the number of people, and the number of days for which you're preparing. What Do They Like To Eat? There's no need to live for a month on nothing but rice and beans. You don't want to stock up on three months worth of food that your family won't touch with a six-foot pole, just because it was cheap. It may keep you alive within a pinch, but you want to enjoy it, if possible. So take the likes and dislikes into consideration as you plan. Don't forget to consider food allergies, as well. In an emergency situation, you wouldn't want to face an allergic reaction from cross contamination, so better to avoid problem foods altogether, if possible. Types Of Emergency Rations There are dozens of ways to build up a great emergency food kit. The easiest, though certainly not the least expensive, is to invest in commercially prepared catastrophe rations, offered by various companies. These kits come as single servings, or a month's worth of food for a single person. There are dozens of options to choose from. Another method, requiring a little planning and management, is to simply take what you buy and use on a weekly basis, and start building up a supply that will last. If you ordinarily use three cans of beans and two boxes of macintosh 'n' cheese and a jar of peanut butter each week, then begin buying double that, and set the extra aside for your emergency food kit. Then manage your stock by rotating it so that your food stays as fresh as possible. Freshness would be a significant advantage in a long-term disaster, where you're relying on your emergency rations for months, or even years. Once you've built up a few months supply of foodstuff, organize your cans and boxes with the soonest expiration date in the front and the furthest out in the back. Then, when you do your grocery shopping, put the new stuff in the back and use from the front. This keeps your stock fresh and ready to use if and when the need arises. Home canning is another less expensive way to build up your emergency food kit. Canning is becoming some sort of lost art, so if you're not familiar with how to do it, you're not alone. Canning food in glass jars requires a little learning and effort but can allow you to preserve tasty, homemade food for years. Be sure to learn which foods require pressure cooking versus water-bathing methods of preservation. Properly canned goods keep best in cool, dark places between 50 and 70 *F (10 - 21 *C) and are safe to eat for years after canning. For bulk dry goods that are intended for long term storage, wheat, beans, rice, sugar and other dry goods can be vacuum sealed and stored in five gallon buckets with O2 absorbers to last for thirty years and more. For the truly prepared minded, a few buckets of wheat and corn will go a long way toward peace of mind. A vacuum sealer constitutes a investment for anyone serious about their emergency rations. Sealing foods in smaller quantities not only preserves them longer but allows you to use them a little at a time, rather than having to use a large container up quickly once you've opened it. If you're worried about the expiration date on store-bought canned goods, keep this story in mind. A steamboat named the Bertrand was trying to reach Montana in 1865 when the idea sunk to the bottom of the Missouri river. One hundred years later, canned goods from that wreck were recovered. In 1974, 109 years after the accident, the food was tested by chemists and found safe to eat. You should use good sense when eating canned foods that have passed their expiration dates. If it looks odd, smells bad or tastes bad, don't eat it! Signs That Food In Your Emergency Food Kit Has Gone Bad Signs canned goods have gone bad: the can is bulging, or the lid has come unsealed. Check for mold or fermentation bubbles in the liquid. If the food rushes out of the can or jar when you open it, there is pressure on the contents that wasn't there when the can or jar was sealed. This is a good indication with bacterial activity causing a chemical reaction. Comfort Foods Once you've established a good base for emergency rations, you might want to start thinking about adding some comfort foods to your store. In stressful situations, we all turn to food for comfort, and yummy food might not be easy to come by in the event of a disaster. Some things to store include: Chocolate - powdered cocoa keeps the best, but chocolate bars over 70% hot chocolate will keep for several months, and much longer if frozen. Hot chocolate mix has a shelf life of several years, and could easily be added to the rotation of your emergency food kit. Mac n' cheese - Best preserved dried by separating the noodles and cheese, and then vacuum sealing them with O2 absorbers. If you're worried about being able to cook macaroni and cheese, it can be canned, but it don't have the same texture as freshly made. Under cooking the noodles before canning will help it to be less mushy. Honey - made with natural preservatives, honey will keep indefinitely, as long as water never gets near it. Store in very clean, very dry glass jars. If it crystallizes, you can return it to its liquid state with a little heat. Freeze dried fruit or even dehydrated fruit can be a great energy booster and will keep well when stored properly. Hard candy - store with desiccants and vacuum sealing to provide a much needed pick me up under stressful conditions. Coconut oil, especially virgin coconut oil will store for a very long time and provide added fat for comforting recipes when butter isn't available. Spices - if you get to a place the place you're having to make all of your food from what you have on hand, you'll be very glad for some extra spices to... well... spice things up. Alcohol - Obviously, a comforting item, but it serves many purposes in a disaster scenario and it keeps well. High alcohol content (over 20%) will keep the longest and over 40% can serve as a disinfectant if needed. Tea - will keep well without special accommodations. To keep it the very freshest, store in small quantities with an O2 absorber. Coffee - For those who really need their cuppa to keep their chin up, coffee will be an important part of the very best emergency food kit. Roasted coffee keeps, vacuum sealed in Mylar bags, for up to two years. If you rotate it through your emergency rations, you will have good coffee for some time. For prep beyond that, you can store green coffee beans in Mylar bags with O2 absorbers, then roast and grind them as needed. What To Choose? How to decide what goes into the very best emergency food kit? A good rule of thumb is six months to a year of food that you would eat every day. This is easily managed through good shopping and rotation. For preparation beyond that time frame, vacuum covered Mylar bags will keep dry goods for years. Many companies and even faith-based family preparation programs offer dry goods preserved in #10 cans that will keep up to 30 years. Building an emergency food kit that can last several years in a pinch is possible, with planning and forethought. Water will be critical to surviving certain types of disaster scenarios. When planning for emergency situations, one liter of mineral water per person per day is a good starting point. You'll need some extra for sanitation and cooking, as well. Be sure you have plenty of water on hand, or a way to obtain water and sanitize it. Sanitation tablets and filtration systems would be a major component of the best emergency food kit. Looking Ahead For total preparedness, it's important to think ahead to food preparation during an emergency. If the power was out for three weeks, how does one cook that mac 'n' cheese you took such care to store? Even if you have a power generator for emergencies, stoves and microwaves pull too much energy to use the generator for cooking. A propane or butane camp stove with plenty of fuel cells, or a propane or charcoal grill are great options to have on hand. And don't forget to include a manual can opener in your unexpected emergency food kit. Where To Keep It? Storage space can be tricky, depending on your housing situation. If at all possible, you'll want to designate a neatly organized room that's specifically for food storage. You'll label your shelves, and keep things nicely stocked and rotated. If you don't live in this kind of fairy tale situation, you may have to get a little more creative about how you store your emergency food kit. A lot of food can be neatly stored, with cardboard boxes, under beds, in the bottoms or tops of closets, and under the stairs. You may need to reduce unnecessary clutter, to make room for emergency rations. The reward will be worth the effort. Be Prepared, Not Scared Taking the steps required to create the best emergency food kit that you possibly can will pay off in peace of mind. To know that you have the ability to care for those you love, and to be able to reach out to those available you in their time of need, will put you in a category reserved for just a few. You'll rest easy at night, knowing that whatever tomorrow holds, your family is provided for.

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