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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

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Day 125.4: Accidental Bonding (Part Four)

(You can start at Part One, if you’d like.)

"Come on," Harry begged, the following Friday. "Please come to dinner." The bond had only seemed to strengthen in the past eighteen days and Harry found his mind turning to thoughts of Draco almost constantly whether they were together or apart.

And touching the other man was almost second nature at this point. They spent all day every day touching the other without thinking; they sat with their ankles pressed together under their desks, hands brushed against shoulders and backs as they walked past each other, they frequently held hands without even talking about it first, and Harry couldn't remember the last time that he'd woken up without being wrapped around Draco's body or vice versa. Yes, the bond wasn't showing any signs of weakening.

"Your friends hate me, Potter," Draco reminded him as he pulled a wine glass down out of the cupboard.

Harry sighed, "But they wouldn't if they got to know you."

Draco leveled him with a glare, the kind that Harry had learned to recognize as a shield of sorts that the other man used when he was feeling insecure. "They have good reason to hate me," he said as he filled the glass.

"Not anymore," he protested.

The other man rolled his eyes and took a large swallow of his wine.

"Come on," he said again. "If you're there no one will flirt with me."

Draco face twisted in disgust, it was unpleasant for both of them if someone touched one of them with certain intentions.

"If they're rude, you can leave right away," he added.

"What's in it for me?" Draco asked.

He thought for a moment, "A foot rub," he offered, remembering the night that Draco had drunkenly been complaining that his feet hurt and Harry had drunkenly offered a foot rub. There'd been something immensely satisfying about it, he assumed it was something to do with the bond and not with the look of rapturous delight on Draco's face.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco's eyes narrowed, "And I can leave immediately if they're unkind."

"Yes."

"And you'll give me a long foot massage?"

He laughed, "Yes."

"Fine."

Harry grinned at him. "Excellent. Let's go then, they're meeting us at The Night Owl."

"How did you know I'd say yes?" he asked, looking affronted.

"I didn't," Harry lied, even he'd had a strong suspicion he could convince the other man. "They could eat there without us if you didn't want to go."

He didn't seem entirely convinced but he allowed Harry to take his elbow and he apparated them to the apparition point closest to The Night Owl.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at a booth when they arrived, and Harry slid his fingers through Draco's as he headed over. "Hey," he greeted brightly.

His best friends both looked up, smiling at Harry before doing a double take when they saw Draco standing there beside him.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, eyebrows lifting. "What a surprise!" she said, glancing at Harry.

He could feel Draco's nervousness like it was a tangible thing. "Yeah," Harry said, widening his eyes meaningfully at her, "I told you he might be coming."

"Yeah," Ron said, "But we didn't think he actually would."

"Well," Draco said, detaching his hand from Harry's, "This has been fun but I'm going to-"

"No," Harry said, turning toward him and grabbing his hand again, "It's fine," he said, glaring at his friends, who he had told to be on their best behavior and to just give the other man a chance.

"Yes," Hermione piped up. "Stay, please. We were just surprised."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, obviously arguing with himself before nodding once and sliding into the booth.

Harry slid in next to him, the first (and hopefully largest) hurdle out of the way.

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Dinner went surprisingly well. Hermione and Ron obviously struggled a bit but Harry had asked them to give him a chance and they seemed to be trying.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit once they'd had a few drinks and when Draco got up to use the loo, Harry turned to his friends, "So?" he said eagerly, "He's different, right?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione said carefully, "I think it's too soon for me to tell."

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed, "I know you've always had that thing for Malfoy but," he shrugged, "it's hard to know what's real and what's an act."

"You do know that he like cut ties from his parents, right?" Harry asked incredulously, "he believes that all of that pureblood nonsense is garbage."

"Does he though?" Hermione asked, "Or is that just what it behooves him to have you believe?"

"He lives in a tiny flat!" he protested. "He said that he was so compelled by your arguments about house elves that he couldn't bring himself to have one for his flat."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, "Or does he just hide it from you? House elves are wicked good at magic."

"He knows how to cook," Harry said, "From scratch. And he knows cleaning spells," he added. "Why would he have to know cleaning spells?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, "Maybe you're right-"

"Just give him a chance," he said. "You won't-"

"Better talk about something else," Ron interrupted, "He's headed this way."

"Well, I tried to get Lugnok to speak with me about the discrimination that Goblins have been facing for ages in the wizarding community, but he wasn't very forthcoming," Hermione started as Draco slid into the booth once again.

"Oh," Draco said as he pressed his shoulder against Harry's and they both relaxed into the pleasant hum thrumming through the bodies, beginning at their shoulders and radiating outward. "I read the last article that you published in The Daily Dilemma," he said excitedly. "It was fascinating," he added.

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

He nodded, "I always wanted to learn more about Goblin magic but good information is so hard to find. When I was young, I'd hoped that it was something they'd teach at Hogwarts-"

"Yes!" Hermione agreed emphatically. "I have been trying to convince Minerva of that for years."

"We don't know nearly enough about magic that other beings possess and honestly," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "I don't know why any other magical being puts up with us. I can't understand it." He shook his head, "I mean for all intents and purposes, their magic is stronger than ours and they've got better control of it. A house elf, for example," he said, "when they want to apparate somewhere it's just a snap of the fingers. And their blind apparation is loads better than ours," he shook his head, "And that's just one spell."

Hermione nodded, "It's never made sense to me."

Draco swallowed, "I'm sorry about that, by the way," he said, not quite meeting her eye, "for making fun of your organization." Then his mouth twisted, "For a lot of things, really," he continued. "Many that were worse than that."

"Thank you," Hermione said after a moment. "I appreciate your apology."

He nodded once. "You probably know this already, but Henri Laurence is a real advocate for changing the way we treat other magical beings. He could probably help your causes."

"Who?" she asked, brows furrowing as she tried to place the name.

"Henri Laurence," he repeated.

She shook her head, "I'm not familiar with that name."

"He works in transportation," Draco replied.

"Why would I talk to someone in transportation?"

He gave her a wry smile, "Henri works closely with a lot of department heads to schedule their trips. He's very amiable and everyone loves him," he added. "More than one political career has risen and fallen by his words. He also works with the Minister quite a bit, the Minister is quite fond of him."

"I never would have thought to start there. Thanks for the tip," she said, giving him a cautious half smile.

"Of course," Draco said automatically. "I'd be glad to give you names if you're ever wondering the best way to get things into people's ears. I'm afraid I can't do introductions, though," he said with a self depreciating laugh.

"Thank you," Hermione said, sounding genuinely grateful. "That would be so helpful."

Draco gave her a little smile and Harry felt hope bubbling merrily in his chest.

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As the evening drew to a natural close, Harry couldn't help but think that everything went exceptionally well.

Draco was still talking about Hermione's current project with the Goblins at Gringotts as Harry headed back toward the bedroom, Draco trailing along behind him. "It's invaluable," he said as he started to strip so he could put on his pajamas. "This research could change the way that we think about other beings. We could really have the opportunity to understand them better and then maybe we'd understand our own magic and our own limitations better."

Harry nodded, "You sound just like her. I thought you two might hit it off."

"Did you?" Draco asked curiously as he crawled into bed.

He nodded, sitting at the bottom and pulling Draco's left foot into his lap, pressing his thumbs up the curve of Draco's arch. "You're the only other person I know who likes to talk about Magic Theory."

He let out a low moan as Harry's thumbs rubbed the ball of his foot, "Potter, you are really good at that," he said, thoroughly distracted from the conversation they'd been having.

Harry laughed.

"I'm serious!" the other man protested. "If the whole saving the world, one idiot at a time thing fails, you can go into foot massages."

Chuckling, he shook his head, "Can you imagine?"

"Yes," Draco replied, closing his eyes and settling further into the mattress, "I'd come see you every day."

"Ah, in that case," Harry teased, "maybe I should think about it."

"You do that," he said, in that distant voice that meant he wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Read something," Harry said.

The other man opened one eye to look down at Harry, "What?"

"Read me something," he said. "Grab a book off your nightstand," he said, nodding to the pile, "And read. But don't pick something boring."

Draco reached over and plucked a slender book off the nigh stand, "I think you'll like this one. He gets everything wrong but it's delightful." He cleared his throat, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit..."

Harry listened as he read, a smile tugging at his lips, his chest filling with warmth.

This was nice, Harry couldn't help but think. Living with someone, sharing meals with someone, having someone in your bed when you went to sleep and when you woke up. It was nice to have the sound of someone else's voice and the feeling of someone else's hand in yours.

He wondered if he'd miss it when the bond ended in twelve days.

More importantly, he wondered if Draco would miss it.

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Part 3 | Part 5

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #slow burn apparently #falling in love #enemies to friends to lovers #forgiveness #accidental bonding #drarry ficlet

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fuckyeahstephensondheim · 4 years ago

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Rick Pender knows his Sondheim from A to Z

If the word “encyclopedia” conjures for you a 26-volume compendium of information ranging from history to science and beyond, you may find the notion of a Stephen Sondheim Encyclopedia perplexing. But if you have ever looked at a bookshelf full of book after book about (and occasionally by) the premiere musical theatre composer-lyricist of our era and wished all that information could be synthesized and indexed in one place, maybe the idea of a Sondheim encyclopedia will start to make a little more sense to you. It did to Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, an independent publisher that’s made encyclopedias such as this one of their calling cards, offering tomes on everyone from Marie Curie to Akira Kurasowa. Several years ago, they approached Rick Pender, longtime managing editor of the gone but never forgotten Sondheim Review and now, after years of research, writing, and pandemic-related delays, the The Stephen Sondheim Encyclopedia is finally hitting shelves. I sat down with Rick (via Zoom) to chat about this unique, massive project.

FYSS: I want to really focus on the new book, but we should start with your history with Sondheim and The Sondheim Review. How did you become so enmeshed in this work?

RP: As a teenager, the first LP that I bought was the soundtrack from West Side Story, and I didn't have any clue about who much of anybody was, particularly not Stephen Sondheim. But I loved the lyrics for the songs, especially “Something’s Coming” and “Gee, Officer Krupke.” These are just fabulous lyrics.

Then, of course, in the ‘70s it was hard as time went by not to have some awareness of Sondheim. I saw a wonderful production of Night Music in northeast Ohio, and I again just thought these lyrics are incredible, and I love the music from that particular show. Fast forward a little further in the late ‘80s, I was laid up with some surgery and I knew I was going to be bedridden for a week or two anyway, so I went to the public library and grabbed up a handful of CDs, and in that batch was A Collector's Sondheim, the three-disc set of stuff up through about 1985, and I must have listened to that a hundred times, I swear, because it had material on it that I didn't know anything about like Evening Primrose or Stavisky. So that really opened my eyes.

Later, my son had moved to Chicago. He's a scenic carpenter and a union stagehand. He worked at the Goodman Theatre, and I went to see a production when they were still performing in a theater space at the Art Institute of Chicago, and they had a gift shop there. And lo and behold in the rack I saw a copy of a magazine called The Sondheim Review! I thought, oh my gosh, I've got to subscribe to this! This would have been about 1996, probably, so I subscribed and enjoyed it immediately. A quarterly magazine about just about Stephen Sondheim struck me as kind of amazing.

In 1997-98 the Cincinnati Playhouse did a production of Sweeney Todd in which Pamela Myers, all grown up, played Mrs. Lovett, and so I wrote to the editor of the magazine and said, “Would you like me to review this?” That started me down a path for a couple of years of making fairly regular contributions to the magazine. Then in 2004 that editor retired, and I was asked to become the managing editor, which I did from 2004 to 2016. It went off the rails for some business reasons, but it lasted for 22 years which I think is pretty remarkable.

I tried to sustain it in an alternative form with a website called Everything Sondheim. We put stuff up online for about 18 months, and we published three print issues that look very much like The Sondheim Review, but we were not able to sustain it beyond that.

FYSS: How did the Encyclopedia project originate?

RP: The publisher asked me to write an encyclopedia about Stephen Sondheim! I envisioned that I would be sort of the general editor who coordinated a bunch of writers to put this together, but they said no, we're thinking of you as being the sole author. They had done a couple of other encyclopedias particularly of film directors, and those were all done by one person, so they sent me a contract asking me to generate 300,000 words for this book, and after I regained consciousness, I said all right, I'll give it a try.

It took me about two years – most of 2018 and ‘19 – to generate that content. I sent it off in the fall of ‘19, and then, well, the world stopped because of the pandemic. It was supposed to come out April a year ago, and they had just furloughed a bunch of their editors and everything stalled. But now it's coming out mid-April 2021.

FYSS: What was the research and writing process like?

RP: This project came about in part because the publisher initially approached another writer, Mark Horowitz, who's at the Library of Congress and who had done a Sondheim book of Sondheim on Music. Mark and I had become quite close because he wrote a number of wonderful features about different Sondheim songs for The Sondheim Review. When I heard that that he had put my name out there, I went back to him after I had agreed to do this and said, Mark, could we use some of that material that you wrote for the magazine about those songs? And he said, sure do with them whatever you wish. And I was glad he said that, because they were really long pieces, and I've reduced each of them to about 1500-2000 words, which I thought was probably about the maximum length that people would really want to read in a reference volume.

But other than that, I generated everything else myself. I relied upon plenty of material within the 22 years of back issues of The Sondheim Review. Another great resource was Sondheim's own lyric studies, the two-volume set which provides so much information about the production of shows and that sort of thing.

Of the 131 entries I wrote for this, 18 of them are lengthy pieces about each of the original productions, so again Sondheim's books were certainly useful for that, and other books like Ted Chapin's book about Follies.

I also spent some time in Washington, D.C. at the Library of Congress, and Mark loaned me a quite a bit of material that he had collected – not archival material but scrapbooks of clippings that he put into ring binders of stuff about Sondheim's shows.

I came back to Cincinnati with about four or five cartons of materials, and I could really dig through that stuff as I was working on these. And then I have, as I'm sure you and lots of other Sondheim fans have, a bookcase with a shelf or two of Sondheim books, and those were all things that I relied upon, too.

I actually generated a list with lots and lots of topics, probably over 200, and I knew that was going to be more than I could do. Eventually, some things were consolidated, like an actor who perhaps performed in just one Sondheim show wasn't going to get a biographical entry, but I would talk about them in the particular show that they were involved in. So, I was able to collapse some of those kinds of things. But as I said, I did end up with 131 entries in the publication, and it turned out to be 636 pages, so that's a big fat reference book.

FYSS: Who is the intended audience for a work like this? RP: The book is really intended to be a reference volume more than a coffee-table book. It does have photography in it, but it's black and white and more meant to be illustrative than to wallow in the glories of Sondheim. There is an extensive bibliography in it, and all the material is really thoroughly sourced so people can find ways to dig into more.

FYSS: Sometimes memories diverge or change over time. Did you come across any contradictions in your research, and how did you resolve them?

RP: I can't say that I can recall anything like that. I relied very heavily on Sondheim's recollections in Finishing the Hat and Look, I Made a Hat because he's got a memory like a steel trap. Once in a while I would email him with a question and get very quick response on things. I really used him as my touchstone for making sure of that kind of thing.

I also found that Secrest’s biography was very thoroughly researched, and I could rely on that. But I can't say that I found a lot of discrepancy, and some of those kinds of things were a little too much inside baseball for me to be including in the encyclopedia.

FYSS: For figures with long and broad histories, how did you decide what to include? George Abbott, for example, is the first entry in the book and he worked for nine decades! How important was writing about an individual as they relate to Sondheim vs. who they were more generally?

RP: To use George Abbott as an example, I would say that the first things that I did was to go back to the lyric studies and to the Secrest biography and just look up references to Abbott. I mean, it was George Abbott who said that he wanted more hummable songs from Sondheim, so you know that was certainly an anecdote that was worth including because, of course you know, it becomes a little bit of the lyric in Merrily We Roll Along.

So you know, I would look for those kinds of things, but I also wanted to put Sondheim in context because Abbott was well into his career when he finally directed Forum which, since it was Sondheim's first show as a composer and a lyricist, is significant. That was very much the focus of that entry, but I wanted to lay a foundation in talking about Abbott, about all the things that he had done before that. I mean, he was sort of the Hal Prince of his era in in terms of his engagement in so many different kinds of things – writing plays, directing musicals, doctoring shows, all of that.

FYSS: Did any entries stick out to you as being the hardest to write?

I think the most complicated one to write about probably was Bounce/Road Show because it's got a complicated history, and Sondheim has so much to say about it. And because it's not a show that people know so much about, I wanted to treat it appropriately, but not as expansively as all of that background material might have suggested. So I kind of had to weave my way through that one. It also was a little tough to write about, because how do you write a synopsis of a show that has had several incarnations quite different from one another, and musical material that has changed from one to the other? With shows like that, I particularly tried to resort to the licensed versions of the shows.

FYSS: I haven't had a chance to read the book cover-to-cover yet, but I did read the Follies and the Into the Woods entries to try to get a sense of how you covered individual shows, and both of those are shows that had significant revisions at different times. And I thought you made it very clear what they were and also where to go for a reader who wants to learn more.

RP: Let me say one other thing this is not directly on this topic, but it sort of relates, and that is that in writing an encyclopedia, I didn't want to overlay a lot of my very individual opinions about things, but with each of the show entries I tried to review the critical comments that were made about the show in its original form, perhaps with significant revivals and that sort of thing, and then to source those remarks from critics at those various points in time. And of course, my own objectivity (or lack thereof) had something to do with what I was selecting, but I thought that was a good way to represent the range of opinion without having to make it all my own opinion.

FYSS: Did you feel any responsibility with regards to canonization when you made choices about what to include or exclude? What made the First National Tour of Into the Woods more significant than the Fiasco production, for example? Why do Side by Side by Sondheim & Sondheim on Sondheim get individual entries, but Putting It Together is relegated to the omnibus entry on revues?

RP: I guess that now you are lifting the curtain on some of my own subjectivity with that question. I tried to identify things that were particularly significant. I mean with the revues for instance, several of those shows – you know, particularly Side by Side by Sondheim, the very early ones – they were the ones I think that elevated him in people’s awareness. So, I think that to me was part of what drove that. And then shows that that were early touring productions struck me as being things that maybe needed a little bit more coverage. I think the Fiasco production was a really interesting one, but with the more recent productions of shows I just felt like there's no end to it if I begin to include a lot of that sort of thing.

FYSS: I mean it's so subjective. I'm not the kind of person who clutches my pearls and screams oh my goodness, how could you not talk about this or that. But I was surprised to see in your Follies entry that the Paper Mill Playhouse album was not listed among the recordings, for example. I imagine that once this book hits shelves you're going to be bombarded with people asking about their pet favorites.

RP: Oh, I'm sure, and maybe that will be a reason to do a second edition, which I’m totally ready to do.

The Sondheim Encyclopedia hits bookstore shelves April 15. It’s available wherever you buy books, but Rick has provided a special discount code for readers of Fuck Yeah Stephen Sondheim to receive 30% off when you order directly from the publisher. To order, visit www.rowman.com, call 800-462-6420, and use code RLFANDF30.

Celebrate the launch of The Sondheim Encyclopedia with a free, live online event featuring Rick Pender in conversation with Broadway Nation’s David Armstrong Friday, April 16 from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. Eastern. More information and register here.

#Stephen Sondheim #Rick Pender #The Stephen Sondheim Encyclopedia #The Sondheim Review

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aspiring-ginger · 5 years ago

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Sweet Wine (Jaskier x Reader)

Request: Hey! I love The Witcher too!! Could you write another Jaskier fic? I just finished the series last night and I was SO EMO for Jaskier in ep 6 😭 Could you do Jaskier x Female Reader where the reader gets really sick of hearing people make fun of his singing, so she very drunkenly and loudly defends him in the middle of a crowded tavern, also accidentally admitting her raging crush on him in front of everyone?

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1,769

Pairing(s): Jaskier x fem!reader (The Witcher)

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! There’s never too many Jaskier fics 💜

Comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Taglist: @thunderdog8 , @dreaming-about-starfleet , @dandelionwitcher

Masterlist

It was nights like these that, although some might not like to admit it (ehm, Geralt), were everyone’s favorites. Starting out with (Y/n) and Jaskier pestering the Witcher to stop at an inn for the night instead of camping and Geralt reluctantly agreeing, also biting back a smile at their antics, which lead to the joyful singing from the rest of the party as they traveled. Jaskier’s cheerful voice mixing with yours.

(Y/n) would be left in charge of steering Jaskier’s horse while he sat behind her, back to back, with lute in hand. Which, eventually, would always lead to him falling off. (Y/n)’s side splitting open in laughter, while Geralt allowed himself to laugh as well. Jaskier’s sore bottom was nothing compared to the sound of his dear friends’ laughter.

Lunch would pass rather quickly- Jaskier spending the whole time fantasizing about what ‘delicacies’ they would be eating for dinner and what the signature brews of the next establishment might be. As always, Geralt would grumble something about ‘booze is booze’ and he was going to drink whatever they had, and (Y/n) would laugh and lament the sweet dessert wines she craved, yet those were usually only found at banquets and parties. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for Geralt, they wouldn’t be going to any of those in the foreseeable future.

Once in town the three would slip into their familiar routine of attending to whatever matters each might have. Geralt went looking for contracts, (Y/n) looking for herbs, and Jaskier securing their rooms. They would all return in just in time for supper and Jaskier’s performances.

Tonight was just like every other night like it had been, except there were a few exceptions. This tavern was particularly crowded and rowdy. Geralt and (Y/n) shared worried glances over their stew as this could mean trouble for their bard, but he seemed to have it under control. This quickly slipped from their minds anyway- the tavern offered one of (Y/n)’s favorite sweet wines. Geralt was now babysitting two overgrown children.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) couldn’t hold her liquor, not at all. In fact, she could give Geralt a run for his money on most days. If it weren’t for his mutations, she would probably have him beat. But that was most days, where all they drank was the local piss. This was something she enjoyed drinking, and when something tastes that good- it’s easy to forget just how many glasses you’ve consumed. So she sat at their table, merrily clapping and slurring along to Jaskier’s tunes. The rest of the patrons seemed to be in a good mood, so all was going well.

Glancing down (Y/n) realized her mug was empty and stood up, rather abruptly and nearly spilling the rest of Geralt’s stew, to get another. It was only her second and they had plenty of coin, although Geralt’s count was at five. He rolled his eyes and let her stumble to the bar, smiling into his own ale. It wasn’t often his companions got to enjoy themselves like this. Plus, his warnings of slowing down fell on deaf ears, so it wasn’t his fault if she had a major hangover the next day.

(Y/n) waited patiently for her drink, tapping one foot to the beat as she watched her favorite bard. She found it hard not to, as he was so very distracting. His voice rang throughout the whole tavern, and he kept dancing in and out of her vision. Heads turned in his direction as he spun this way and that. She sighed and rested her cheek in her hand. (Y/n) swore he looked ethereal. The gentle flickering of firelight glinted off of his newly washed hair, the small bit in the front bobbing up and down as he moved. His bright blue eyes sparkled, full of energy and life, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. And gods, when he smiled, he took her breath away. The whole world seemed to melt away as she locked eyes with Jaskier, his smile growing wider and a wink was thrown her way. (Y/n)’s heart skipped a beat.

She was broken out of her stupor when a fresh mug slid her way and splashed her sleeve. She greedily took another drink not wanting to seem like she was staring too long. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she put her wine back down, when something caught her attention. There was laughter off to her left, sounding much harsher than it should have. Listening in, she picked out what seemed like three men, all jeering at and mocking the bard. It immediately irked her, how could they not see that the embodiment of perfection itself was currently performing for them, putting his heart into every single note and phrase? (Y/n) glanced back over to Geralt, looking to see what his expression could tell. Though he said otherwise, she sometimes caught him quietly humming or tapping along to Jaskier’s songs. Geralt did not look this way. He was not enjoying himself in the slightest, his eyes formed into a hard glare and he looked bored. So very bored. (Y/n)’s head whipped back to the left as she heard the cruel laughter again, the men now beginning to heckle the poor bard.

Jaskier finished his song. He gave a dramatic bow as the tavern cheered and clapped, but the rowdy table of men began to boo and toss chunks of bread in his direction. There was no way (Y/n) would let them talk shit about her bard.

“Oi!” She shouted, her stool clattering to the floor as she stood. “You better watch your fucking mouths, you dimwits!”

Jaskier’s smile faltered and he looked to (Y/n) with wide eyes. Geralt clenched his jaw and prepared for the worst. Somehow, their nights drinking always ended in a bar fight. One of the men stood up, his beady eyes narrowing at (Y/n).

“Oh yeah? You sure got some mouth on you then, sweetheart. What you gonna do about it, eh? Stupid woman you are.” His buddies joined in on his laughter.

Her nostrils flared, and there was a fire in her eyes. “Do you even know who you’re listening to? Who you should be sodding grateful you could even hear his music? This is Jaskier, the world famous bard. Also known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of fucking Lettenhove.” She pounded her fist on the bar and nearby drinks sloshed at the impact. “He graduated from Oxenfurt Academy with honors. He travels with a witcher, fucking Geralt of Rivia. Ever heard of them? Oh well of course not. How could a small town idiot know anything of celebrities and lords when he spends all his time fucking sheep in piles of shit?”

“What the fuck you know about our town, bitch?! You obviously don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. It’s clear your bard here prefers the company of men, so you need real men like us to show you how it's done, you filthy whore!” He spat.

“So fucking what if he likes men or women? He’s great in bed! Everyone knows that and everyone wants to bed him! Hell, I want to bed him! His perfect chocolate hair and blue eyes and amazing voice and...argh!” She grabbed her mug and threw it at the man. She stumbled slightly but her aim proved true, splashing sticky her sticky wine all over the beady eyed man. “He’s the best fucking musician I’ve ever heard! Nobody gives him the credit he deserves!”

Geralt shot up from his seat and leapt at the man, who roared in anger and was about to attack. Jaskier stared in shock at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

“(Y/n)!” Geralt yelled, “That’s enough! Jaskier, get her upstairs!” He began wrestling with the man, Geralt easily had the upper hand due to his greater size and sobriety.

“No! Nobody is appreciating Jaskier like they should!” (Y/n) slurred. Jaskier slung his lute on his back and rushed over to her.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, dear. I think they all get the message now. You’ve made it very clear how good of a performer you think I am, it’s alright. Let’s get you upstairs, shall we? I think you’ve had far too much to drink.” He attempted to calm her, struggling to lead her back in the direction of the stairs. (Y/n) thrashed and stumbled against him in protest. “Shh sh sh sh shhhhh, (Y/n). It’s alright. C’mon.” He grunted as he slung her arm around his back to support her weight.

Geralt was busy dragging the unsavory man outside as the rest of the tavern was no longer silent. Cheers were heard for both the witcher and the drunk, though it was clear who was winning. (Y/n) stumbled up the stairs with Jaskier’s help. They stopped a couple times as she began to veer off to the right, straight into the wall and Jaskier needed to tug her back for balance.

After some struggle the two finally made it all the way up the stairs and into one of their rooms. Jaskier led (Y/n) over to the bed and tried to gently place her down, instead throwing her against it rather ungracefully. He rubbed his shoulder and sighed, bending down to begin to unlace her boots.

“Ya know...I meant everything I said down there.” She began, eyes already heavy, “I’m sorry that I ruined your show��”

Jaskier laughed in response. “It’s alright….We’ll...We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? I think we need to have a conversation when we both have our wits about us, hm?” He fetched a mug of water and placed it on the table beside her bed.

“You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Of course not, (Y/n). I’ll stay.”

“Mmmm...okay.” She snuggled into the pillows, her speech almost incomprehensible. “I love you, you silly bard.”

Jaskier pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down with a sigh, unable to hide his grin.

“And I, you. Now get some sleep. We can talk about this when you wake up.”

Whatever it is she said next, he couldn’t make it out, it sounded more like a groan than actual speech.

“And I, you...” He settled into the chair, removing his doublet and draping it around himself like a blanket. The smile remained on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

Taglist and Requests are open!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #dandelion #dandelion imagine #dandelion x reader #dandelion x you #jaskier x you #the witcher #the witcher imagine #The witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher netflix x reader #the witcher netflix imagine #the witcher netflix x you #my writing #request #anon request #anon

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max-is-tired · 5 years ago

Text

You Got Me Hypnotized (So Mesmerized)

Pairing: Remile

Characters: Remy Sanders, Emile Picani, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 4.458

Warnings: homophobic parents, misgendering, teen pregnancy, getting kicked out, medical drugs, labor mentions plus its aftermath, swearing, freaking out, mentions of death (just Remy being their dramatic self), alcohol mention (two characters get tipsy), past & internalized aphobia -this is mostly fluff I promise

Notes: First of all, an enormous thank you to @adultmorelikeadolt for commissioning this big boi, I fell in love with the prompt almost immediately and I’m super proud of how it turned out. Genderqueer Remy and asexual Emile? How could I refuse?

Writing this was so fun, there are points in this fic where I legit had to stop typing because I was too busy laughing to make any sense. I hope you guys like it at least as much as I enjoyed working on it!!

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!!

Join my Discord server!!

Of all the things Remy thought they would end up as they'd never considered becoming a single parent at 18.

Their parents had not been happy about it, obviously -when had they ever been when it came to them? They had been furious, shouting and screaming as they’d never done before.

"How could you ever do this to us?" their father had roared, "we already put up with all that genderqueer crap of yours, even when heavens only knows we didn't need to do that. But this? This is outrageous!"

"Get out," had seethed their mother, "no daughter of mine will be such a disappointment -so get out of my sight, and don't you dare come back."

Remy had simply gotten up, biting the inside of their cheek until the taste of iron filled their mouth.

"I was never your daughter," they had said as they threw the door open.

"Glad we agree on something, then," their mother had answered before shutting the door behind them.

After that, with their parents and the kid's father out of the equation, Remy had had quite a hard time figuring out what to do.

Thankfully, they were not as alone as they had previously thought. As soon as Virgil heard of what had gone down, he and his mothers basically adopted them on the spot, giving them a home and all the support they had needed.

Fast forward eight and a half months later, they found themselves hunched on a hospital bed, screaming profanities at the top of their lungs as they pushed and pushed and pushed and tried with all of themselves to not punch the nurse if she said "breathe, you're almost there!" one more goddamn time-

Remy doesn’t remember much of the actual labor, aside from the pain of the contractions and the doctor and nurses telling them what to do. They remember the cry of a child suddenly filling the air, piercing and full of life as they slumped tiredly on the bed, exhaustion hitting them full force.

They remember a solid, warm weight being gently laid in their arms, the doctor's voice barely making its way through the metaphorical cotton that seemed to have filled their ears as they looked at the little human squirming in their arms -their child, the distantly thought, something warm and fuzzy taking residence in their heart.

"Congratulations," the doctor was saying, Remy's brain barely registering his words, "he's a very healthy boy."

Now, normally it would have been pretty clear the doctor was talking about the baby and not the parent. However, Remy was exhausted, 10 hours of labor weighing on their shoulders as they fought valiantly to keep their eyes open just a little bit longer.

So yeah, sue them if they slightly misinterpreted the doctor's words.

“Actually-” they slurred, attracting on themselves the gazes of everyone present as they pointed and accusing finger towards said doctor- “actually doc, you could not be more wrong. Because you see, I may be very healthy but I’m sure as hell not a boy, and if you call me one one more time I will take that folder in your arms and slap you with it. We clear?”

Remy nodded to themselves and closed their eyes, cuddling their child close to their chest with a contented sigh.

“Well, that’s very nice to know,” the doctor said after a moment of silence, making Remy open their eyes once again to glare -why was he smiling like that? And why was Virgil laughing his ass off on the chair?

“However, I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding,” the doctor continued, barely containing a chuckle himself as he watched Remy’s expression become more confused by the second, “because, you see, with that statement I was, in fact, referring to your son.”

Remy blinked, the gears turning sluggishly in his head as the last minute or so replayed in their head. “Oh.”

Virgil -who until that moment had more or less managed to get his laughter under control- broke down again, falling from his chair as he merrily cackled his lungs out on the hospital room’s floor.

“Oh, heck off,” Remy grumbled.

“I’m sor- I’m sorry-” Virgil wheezed between fits of laughter, not looking apologetic at all- “oh my god Rems I’m never letting you live this down-”

Remy rolled their eyes, opting to ignore their best friend as their gaze moved on their son's little face. Bright blue eyes stared back at them, wide and curious, and Remy felt the warmth in their heart grow and grow until they felt like there wasn’t a place for anything else.

“So… he’s okay? No complications?” they asked, unable to tear their gaze away from the little bundle in their arms.

“Everything went as smoothly as it could’ve,” the doctor assured them, “your child is the epitome of healthy and I’m sure you’ll be able to-”

“Patton,” Remy piped up, wiggling his finger in front of his son’s face and smiling as he let out a happy gurgle, “his name is Patton.”

The doctor hummed, nodding. “Very well,” he said with a smile of his own, “as I was saying, I’m sure you’ll be cleared to bring Patton home very soon.”

“Mhm, sounds perfect,” Remy answered, clearly distracted.

The doctor chuckled, scribbling something in the folder in his arms before turning towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he said before heading out, “congratulations on the successful birth, Mx. Astoreth. Now get some rest -you both deserve it.”

A comfortable silence fell into the room, broken only by Virgil’s wheezing breath and Patton’s occasional happy gurgle.

“So-” Virgil said when he’d finally managed to calm down enough to formulate a coherent sentence- “Patton, uh?”

“I think it fits him, don’t you agree?” Remy hums, a tired grin stretching on their face as Patton let out a particularly loud squeal.

“Hello, Patton,” they said, kissing their son’s head, “welcome to the world.”

+++

Remy yawned, sliding the last batch of freshly-baked pancakes on a plate as they idly hummed along with whatever song was now playing on the radio. They padded out of the kitchen and finished setting the table, before moving towards the stairs and cupping their hands around their mouth.

“Patton!” They called out, hoping their son hadn’t fallen asleep while washing his face again, “breakfast is ready!”

Almost immediately they heard a muffled thump coming from the upstairs bathroom, followed by all-too-familiar quick steps sprinting down the corridor.

“Breakfast!!” Patton cried happily as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, throwing himself down into his ren’s arms.

Remy -who had since gotten used to their son’s antics- simply smiled and easily caught the little boy, swinging him around a little as Patton giggled his little heart out.

“Here is my little Pattycake!” they exclaimed, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, “what incredible adventures did my favorite son in the world have tonight?”

“Ren!” Patton squealed, barely keeping his giggles at bay, “I’m your only son!”

“More of a reason to love you!” Remy grinned, relishing in their son’s delighted laugh as they set him down at the kitchen table “now sit down and eat your pancakes, you don’t wanna be late for school.”

“Can uncle Virgil come to pick me up today?” Patton said between mouthfuls of pancakes.

“Wow, you choose him over your own parent?” Remy asked, putting a hand on their chest in mock-offense, “I’m hurt, Pattycake, really.”

“He promised me ice cream!”

“Oh okay then,” Remy snickered in their coffee, “nothing can beat ice cream.”

“Exactly!” Patton agreed, dutifully nodding with his mouth full of food. He almost looked like a hamster, Remy mused while trying with all of their might to not squeal out loud and reach for their phone to take a photo.

“Well, sorry to disappoint-” they finally said, grabbing the dirty dishes from the table and putting them in the sink for later- “but today you’ll have to make do with little old me.”

“Aww, but I wanted ice cream,” Patton pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at the floor.

“I know, honey,” Remy said, carding their hand between Patton’s wild curls and crouching down in front of him, “but there’s a parent-teacher conference today, and I’ve gotta be there for that."

Patton still didn't look up, gaze stubbornly fixed downward. Remy sighed, tapping their chin in thought.

"How about this?" They finally said, nodding to themselves, "I come to pick you up, and after I've talked with your teacher we call uncle Virgil and we all go to that ice cream parlor you like so much."

Patton gave them a furtive glance, and Remy could see their son's pout already start to melt away.

"The one near the dog park?" Patton asked tentatively.

"The one and only," Remy nodded, grinning.

"Can I go play with some puppies too?"

"After you've eaten your ice cream, and if it's not too late, then I don't see why not."

"Yes!!" Patton exclaimed, his previous pouting session completely forgotten as he happily jumped into his ren's arms, "I love puppies!!"

"I know you do, bud," Remy laughed, spinning their son around for a few seconds before gently putting him down, "now go get ready, you don't wanna be late for school!"

"Okay!" Patton said with a big smile, before sprinting up the stairs towards his room.

Remy sighed, shaking their head with an amused smile on their face.

Patton sure was a handful, but god if they didn't love that little ball of sunshine.

+++

After dropping Patton off, Remy got back home and officially started their own day.

They turned on the speakers and connected their phone, their favorite playlist immediately filling the house. Whistling happily along with the music, Remy set to cleaning around a little, washing the dishes and collecting some clutter from the floor with a pep in their step -they may not have been that much of a morning person and have the habit to curse their alarm to hell and back almost every single morning, but there was something calming in their routine that they wouldn’t trade for anything else in the whole world.

After their little spring cleaning was done, they grabbed their sketchpad, laptop, and tablet and half-sprawled themselves on the couch, letting the music wash over them as they set to work on their most recent commission.

When they got up again, it was way past noon and their stomach was very much protesting the lack of lunch. Groaning, Remy put aside their work and stood up, stretching their arms into the air and sighing when some very satisfying popping sounds came from their back. Humming, they moved to the kitchen, enjoying a quick lunch as they idly scrolled down their phone -and sent a quick message to Virgil, telling him to keep his afternoon free for an ice cream trip.

Panic!AtTheEmo: will do, can’t wait to see my favorite person in the whole world

Panic!AtTheEmo: oh and you too ig

Remy let out a snort, typing out a response as they moved to fill their third cup of coffee for the day -they were trying to cut their caffeine intake, but it was a work in progress.

SassyBitch: how very much dare you

Then, they put down their phone and got back to work, setting an alarm to alert them after another two hours -it would do no good to have promised their son ice cream only to completely miss the parent-teacher conference, after all.

+++

Emile sighed, slouching back on his chair as another mother filed out of the classroom with her child in tow. He loved his job, he really did -interacting with the children, even the rowdiest ones, almost always brought a smile to his face and fondness in his eyes- but dealing with the parents was always more tiring that he would like it to be.

Set on enjoying the few minutes of peace before the next parent came in, Emile stood up and stretched his arms upwards, letting out a satisfied hum when some popping sounds reached his ears.

Then, he heard the door open again.

“Mr. Picani!” someone squealed, Patton’s very familiar voice his only warning before a blue blur tackled his leg with an excited squeal.

“Patton!” Emile laughed, before registering someone else’s calling the kid’s name at the same time -one of Patton’s parents, he presumed.

“Patton, you can’t tackle people like that, we’ve talked about this!”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Emile said, kneeling down to give Patton’s nose a little boop - he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when Patton let out a delighted giggle. The kid was just too adorable not to. “I could never refuse one of Patton’s pattoned hugs.”

“Fair enough,” came a chuckle from over them, making Emile finally look up to greet the newcomer -only to feel himself freeze on the spot, eyes widening slightly as he felt his heart make a little jump in his chest.

“Oh fuck they’re hot,” was the only coherent thought inside Emile’s head as he took in the black leather jacket, black hair framing a very, very handsome face and a pair of gorgeous, deep brown eyes staring back at him from behind a pair of sunglasses.

Yes. Sunglasses. Inside. Emile was too busy having a mini gay crisis to care too much right now.

“Uh-” he said, very eloquently, before scrambling to stand and try to get back some of his composure as he worked very hard on fighting down the blush currently threatening to take over his face -if because of embarrassment or a gayness overload, he was still too busy panicking to figure it out.

“Hello!” Emile said, voice jumping an octave higher as he threw a hand forward to shake, “I’m Emile Picani, Patton’s teacher -How do you do?”

“Nice to meet you,” the other grinned, “Remy Astoreth, I’m-”

“They’re my ren!!” Patton interjected, eyes sparkling as his grin seemed to widen even more.

“That I am,” his ren -Remy- chuckled, briefly kneeling down to scoop Patton in their arms, “so, I hope Patton has been behaving in class?”

“Oh, he’s a literal angel,” Emile sighs, a smile stretching automatically on his face, “he’s always so kind and sweet, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen him helping his classmates. Your son is a joy to work with, Mx. Astoreth, there’s nothing bad I could say about him if I tried.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Remy said, grinning as their son giggled at the praise, “and please, none of that “Mx. Astoreth” thing -it makes me feel old. A cutie like you can absolutely call me Remy.”

Emile squeaked, cheeks burning as he froze like a deer caught in the headlights -not that Remy was much better, the confident expression they had been wearing until that moment melting away in barely-concealed panic as what had just come out of their mouth started to set in.

“Shoot, sorry!” they exclaimed, trying not to jolt the kid in their arms too much in their panic, “I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, oh my gosh, that was totally uncalled for, I usually have a much better filter-”

“No, no!” Emile interrupted their rant, clearing his throat as he gave the other a tentative smile, “it’s okay, really. I, um, didn’t mind, Mx. Ast- Remy.”

“oh- oh!” Remy grinned, before looking away, cheeks aflame, “great, that’s, uh, great.”

Too caught up in their own embarrassment, none of them noticed the little stars quite literally dancing in Patton’s eyes, hands pressed on his mouth to stop a squeal from coming out.

+++

Remy managed to keep their composure up until their scheduled meet-up with Virgil. They managed to keep themselves together -even if only barely, if Virgil concerned glances were anything to go by - all throughout their usual greetings, the quick ice-cream trip and letting Patton roam around to pet dogs, with the promise to not stray too far off.

Then -when their son was finally out of earshot- they finally lost it.

“Holy shit I’m so fucking gay-” they shouted-whispered as they hid their reddening face in their hands. Beside them, Virgil startled, sending his ice cream flying and splattering on the ground.

“A warning next time would be nice, thanks,” he grumbled, throwing a mourning look to his now inedible ice cream.

“Sorry,” Remy said, not looking very apologetic as they peeked at him from between their fingers, “I’ll buy you another one when I’m done having a crisis.”

“You’re an absolute disaster of a person,” Virgil sighed, slouching back on the bench they were sitting on as he ignored the withering glare Remy sent his way, “anyway, care to elaborate? All I know is that you got out of that parent-teacher thing looking like you had just seen a fucking ghost or something.”

“Seen an angel, more like,” Remy muttered.

“... Remy, did you get the hots for your son’s teacher?” Virgil asked in disbelief, barely fighting down a snicker as Remy whipped their head out of their hands to glare at him full force -which would have maybe been intimidating, had it not been for the raging blush covering their cheeks and ears.

“Oh my god, you do!” Virgil grinned, obviously delighted by the sudden turn of events. “Spill. Now.”

“V, I don’t even know where to fucking start,” Remy said “he was just so sweet and polite -Patton introduced me as his ren and he didn’t even blink? Like, immediately used the right pronouns, nothing of that misgendering bullshit.”

“I already like him.”

“I know, right?!” Remy grinned, pushing on with their story -they were not gushing, no ma’am, Remy Asthoreth does not gush, what are you on about. “And he’s so cute?? Like, pastel hair and sweater cute, and he had freckles!! Freckles, V, and also apparently he adores the shit out of Patton which is even worse because I’m way too gay for this! I’m gonna die of gay overload and I’m not even angry about that.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows, blinking. “Oh wow, you really are smitten.”

“Shut your fuck,” Remy grumbled.

“You wish,” Virgil snickered, “so got any plans on how to woo this sweet angel of yours? What’s his name, by the way?”

“Emile,” Remy answered, slumping, “and I don’t know if I even want to pursue this, honestly -he’s my son’s teacher, for crying out loud!”

Virgil hummed. “Well, at least you already know Patton likes him. That’s one less thing to worry about, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but still-”

“You could invite him for dinner at our house!” Patton’s voice piped up from behind the bench, startling the both of them and sending Remy almost with their ass on the ground.

“Patton!” Remy squeaked, blush returning full force as they looked at their son’s innocent grin, “honey, what are you talking about?”

“You should invite Mr. Picani over for dinner!” the boy repeated, grin widening even more, “and then you can kiss and be in love and get married and then he’ll become my papa!”

Silence fell on the little group.

Then, Virgil rolled out of the bench onto the ground, wheezing in laughter as Remy let out a strangled noise, cheeks flushing with a blush so vibrant it could probably be spotted even in pitch darkness.

Patton tilted his head to the side, clearly confused, before shrugging bouncing back towards a little group of dogs to pet them. “Adults are weird.”

+++

Remy knew their son had inherited some of their stubbornness. They’d just never realized just how much, until the kid decided that his only goal for the school year would be to set his ren and his favorite teacher together.

It was almost cute, really, to see him continuously drop some not-so-subtle hints about them going to lunch together -that is, if the simple thought of a lunch date actually happening didn’t reduce Emile to a stuttering mess and Remy to the best imitation of a red tomato the world had ever seen.

(Virgil found the entire thing hilarious, of course. Watching his best friend struggle with their hopeless crush on the cute teacher was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes -getting systematically pushed down from the couch by said best friend was a price he was more than willing to pay if it meant he could keep his front seat for the whole she-bang.)

This all went on for literal months, with Patton trying to “subtly” push two of his favorite adults together while said two adults seemed to lose any apparent braincell in their possession as soon as they were in proximity of each other.

Then, tired of playing nice, Patton got out the big guns.

“Ren?” he said one day, not looking up from his coloring book, “if you don’t stop being silly and go to lunch with Mr. Picani, I’ll tell him about the Doctor Incident.”

From the kitchen, Remy let out a startled sputter, fumbling with the pan in their hands as a now-familiar heat started spreading on their cheeks.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would I?” Patton asked, blinking his big blue eyes at his ren.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of their nose. “You’re spending too much time with uncle Virgil.”

Patton simply gave them a dazzling grin, going back to coloring.

+++

Remy -who wanted to keep some of their dignity, thank you very much- did end up asking Emile to lunch the following day, much to Patton’s delight. And you know what? It went even better than they could’ve ever imagined. They talked, they laughed, enjoying the meal and each other’s company with smiles on their faces and warmth in their hearts.

That afternoon, Remy bought their son an ice cream to celebrate -and to silently thank him, since they knew that, without Patton’s constant meddling, they would’ve never gathered the courage to actually ask Emile out.

Fast forward one month -and many other cute dates- later, the two were still going strong, and Emile had grown to become a beloved constant in the Astoreth household.

Like right now, for example.

Remy and Emile were sprawled on the couch, a bottle of wine and two empty plates sitting on the coffee table in front of them. They were enjoying a quiet night in, with Patton spending the night at his uncle Virgil’s place.

Emile let out a contented hum, his head resting on Remy’s legs as his partner gently cradled a hand through his hair. He could feel the four or five glasses of wine buzzing in his blood, leaving him feeling tipsy in the best way. He felt relaxed, at ease, and for the first time, Emile couldn’t feel an ounce of anxiety about being alone at home with someone he was undergoing a romantic relationship with.

For the first time since he could remember, there was no pressure, no expectations, no voices in the back of his head sounding so much like his parents telling him to just stop being such a prude, that he was just leading Remy on and that if he didn’t get over it already then they would leave him for sure, just like everyone else did.

Just like Aaron did.

Emile couldn’t help the little pang of hurt in his chest even after all these years, a tiny, dejected sigh leaving his lips without him even noticing. In some ways, Remy reminded him a lot of Aaron, with their witty humor and flirty, sweet advances -he probably had somewhat of a type, Emile mused as a tiny smile tugged at his lips.

He just hoped Remy wouldn’t walk away too when they finally learned the truth about him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Remy suddenly piped up, startling the man in their lap.

“Uh?” Emile answered, much eloquently.

Remy snickered, and Emile felt a dopey smile form on his lips at the sound. “You were looking pretty deep in thought, babe. Wanna share with the class?”

“I was just, uh, thinking about some things,” Emile said, looking to the side.

“Good things or bad things?”

“... yes?”

Remy snorted, shaking their head with a fond smile. “Fair enough. But please remember that if you need to talk I’m here, okay?”

Emile nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak -he felt as if there was a lump in his throat, his feelings and thoughts running wild in his head and making him feel dizzy as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Emile was not stupid, he knew very well he had fallen hard and fast for Remy. And how could he have not? They were always so sweet and considerate, showering him with compliments and affection and never raising a single eyebrow at Emile’s quirkier habits and enthusiastic personality.

Emile didn’t regret it, not one bit. He loved Remy, and that was not something he could -or was willing to- change.

Which made the prospect of sharing his secret much more terrifying.

Unfortunately for him though, tipsy-Emile seemed to have even less of a filter than sober-Emile, and his mouth opened before his brain could properly register what he was about to say.

“I’m ace,” Emile blurted out, slapping a hand on his mouth immediately after.

Oh my gosh what the heck did I just say?!, he mentally yelled, bracing himself for whatever Remy would say.

He did not expect the soft laugh that reached his ears, the hand carding his hair not stopping its ministration as Remy didn’t even look up from their phone.

“Nice,” they said, leaving their boyfriend completely dumbfounded.

Emile stared, feeling his already-sluggish brain metaphorically break in his head as he tried to make sense to Remy’s nonchalant attitude. “What?”

Remy glanced down at him, a teasing smile dancing on their lips. “Hun, do you know what happened last time I slept with someone?”

Emil cocked his head to the side, clearly confused. “No?”

“Patton happened.”

Emile blinked. And blinked some more. And then-

“Wait, do you mean-” he suddenly said, eyes widening in realization as he shot up from Remy’s lap, “you gave birth to Patton?!”

“...Yes?”

“Oh,” Emile said, flopping back down, “alright, a lot of things make more sense now, okay.”

Remy snorted, shaking their head as their shoulders shook in time with their laugh. “You’re really something else, Mr. Picani.”

Emile hummed, feeling as if he’d gotten a huge weight off of his shoulders as he cuddled closer to his partner.

A comfortable silence fell over the two, interrupted only by the occasional car driving through the neighborhood as they simply enjoyed each other’s presence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#sanders sides #remile #remy sanders #emile picani #asexual emile #genderqueer remy #virgil sanders #patton sanders #kid patton #he's a ball of sunshine and i love him #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years ago

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The Kisses ( I wont get into every single one of them ) there is like 17 in the first book alone between Katniss and Peeta so all that jazz is in another post I have

This may contain “bashing” Gale loll

Katniss’s first kiss was with Peeta. He was like If I die ... Katniss is like don’t talk like that. Peeta is like really tho... Katniss kisses him to shut him up ( Not the last time she’s done this). She was like well this should count for something Because this is the frist time I kissed a boy. They Kissed many times in that arena A few did count for something but here is what Katniss said about a certain one "Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we're both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. I'm about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. ( This one was before the kiss that made her feel something) I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I'm so grateful that he's still here, not dead by the stream as I'd thought. So glad that I don't have to face Cato alone.

Okay so they kiss a bit 30 times between all 3 books. Now Their first kiss after a few months of not went like this. My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta's direction. Then, as if I can't stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn't entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that's where we have our first kiss in months. It's full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I'm not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won't expose me in front of the cameras. Won't condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He's still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn't. And that's how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. "No one really needs me," he says, and there's no self-pity in his voice. It's true his family doesn't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. "I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

I don't like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee's right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can't think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it's Beetee. "It's okay," I tell Peeta. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up." "Not into the lightning zone," Beetee reminds me. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage." I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight." I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. "Ready?"

"Leave me," he whispers. "I can't hang on." "Yes. You can!" I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. "I'm losing it. I'll go mad. Like them." Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me." Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. "No. I don't want to..." I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real."

It's the way you love me It's a feeling like this It's centrifugal motion It's perpetual blissIt's that pivotal moment It's unthinkable This kiss, this kiss (Unsinkable) This kiss, this kissYou can kiss me in the moonlight On the rooftop under the sky You can kiss me with the windows open While the rain comes pouring inside Kiss me in sweet slow motion Let's let every thing slide You got me floating, you got me flying

( This kiss Faith Hill)

But When Peeta and Katniss Kiss it’s like wow. Nothing else in the world is there just them and the way Katniss talks about it she enjoys it clearly. And she made the choice to Kiss Peeta. Like there are other ways to show love then Kissing. But It’s like when she is with him she feels safe and it’s gonna be alright they could make it through anything together. It’s sadness to when she feels guilty for shutting each other out but forgiveness. She has this moment where she can barley look at his lips after the Beach scene.

I sit next to Peeta on the sand to eat my rolls. For some reason, it's difficult to look at him. Maybe it was all that kissing last night, although the two of us kissing isn't anything new. It might not even have felt any different for him. Maybe it's knowing the brief amount of time we have left. And how we're working at such cross-purposes when it comes to who should survive these Games.

That is because she knows what comes out of that mouth Peeta will know that Katniss still wants to die for him. And whatever Peeta says can Make sense for her to agree to and she wants this for Peeta to live not her in that moment.

The Beach Kiss my god. That’s a kiss you feel like okay give them their space but Can’t look away from.

Katniss kissing Gale and It went like this

By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone.Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me.So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say"Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself."Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer.

So The best part about this is When Katniss kissed Gale shes like I hope to god he doesn’t remember this... But when he does Katniss is like oh shit

So heres is the final kiss Between these two.

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?" "I don't know," I whisper back. "Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself. "How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before. He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine." "So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask. "I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood. Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?" "Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says. I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?" "No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I am no love expert But that might not be the time you bring up I kissed other women up just saying... and saying You kissed Better pretty much my god. When they Kiss tho it’s like seeing a car accident your not involved in but you can’t help but peak then regreat it. The fact he made Katniss feel so bad for kissing one guy when your like Drake Parker from Drake and Josh. ( If you don’t know he dated many women on that show) Also the fact you say you were interested in her 6 months prior games. Didn’t make a move until after She kissed Peeta 17 Plus times. And now you want to be more friends thats how you want to play. Oh Hell no. She doesn’t love you like that buddy... No wonder she’s confused af. Like she only kissed Gale because he was making her feel guilty

#thg #hunger games #The Hunger Games #catching fire #CatchingFire #mockingjay #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2 #cf #katniss everdeen #Katniss #katniss and peeta #Peeta #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #gale #everlark

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collectingsparechangemadeeasy1 · 5 years ago

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Lucky Charms Week Bonus Day! Pokémon AU! My friend on discord made the art and I wrtoe the ficlet.

“Nice job bud.” Qrow grinned as Harbinger dropped the pin into his hand. He held out his arm for the honchkrow to land and flipped the pin up in air before catching it. Clover had been working too hard again. So Qrow was doing something about it.

See the plan was, have Clover’s togetic Kingfisher take his pin while Clover was showering. Then she would give the pin to Harbinger, Qrow’s honchkrow, who would give it to Qrow. Once Clover saw the pin missing, he would go looking. Kingfisher would lead him to a clearing where the real surprise was. It was gonna be great.

~back at Clovers place~

Clover felt far more refreshed after his shower, though he could do with a nap, or a vacation. He’d been working near nonstop for the past few days. Paper work, meetings, missions, and a million and one little things that stole his time. He wished he could take a break. But he had too much work to do right now so rest would have to wait for a bit.

Getting into his Ace Ops uniform he reached for a certain charm to put on his lapel. Only to see it wasn’t there. He knew he left it on the table before he went in for his shower. So where could it be? Wait...Qrow. Of course he would. Probably trying to make him take a break. It was sweet really but he needed to get to work, and he couldn’t without that pin.

“Why does he keep doing this?” he asked Kingfisher, who had appeared at his side. She gently nuzzled his cheek and tugged at his collar, a clear “Let’s go find out.” from the little fairy type if he ever saw one. “Alright, alright. But when we get the pin back it’s straight to work, got it?” he gave his partner a pointed look. He knew her. She was playful by nature and as much as he loved that about her, he had needed to regain her antics in more than once. She rolled her eyes but nodded, butting her forehead against his playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Clover smirked, pushing the pokémon away with a chuckle. He did a cursory search of his place, just to be sure it wasn’t there. When nothing turned up he walked outside into the cold Atlas air. “Ready to go Kingy?” he asked as Kingfisher settled herself on his shoulder. She chirped out an agreement and they went on their way.

Together they scoured the academy, through every classroom, training room, and club room, leaving no stone unturned. Clover was very close to just giving it up when a little white blur suddenly darted toward him. “Whoawhoawhoa!” he cried, bracing himself for impact. When none came he looked to see Kingfisher hovering right in front of him, looking far to pleased with herself.

“Hush.” he grumbled, “What do you have?” the little togetic grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him along. He followed her through numerous hallways and rooms, twisting and turning and very nearly disorienting him. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

Finally they stopped in front of a set of glassdoors, they led to one of Atlas Academies indoor gardens, one of the ones used for pleasure instead of classwork. He shook his head and smiled, yup, just like he thought. Qrow. That conniving bastard, what was he leading Clover into? Sighing Clover opened the doors and walked through. Immediately he was hit with floral perfumes and the sounds of the pokémon playing in the flora.

His togetic flew a bit further ahead and beckoned him to follow. He trotted along after her, waving happily to any pokémon he happened to pass. He should come by here again, it was nice. Warm, it smelled nice, it was peaceful. Yeah, he needed to come by here again sometime.

The sound of beating wings drew his attention, he looked up to see a very familiar pokémon in one of the trees. “Harbinger! Good to see you!” he chirped, waving merrily at his lover’s partner. “If you’re here that means Qrow can’t be too far right? Mind showing me where he is? I think he has something of mine.” Clover grinned as the honchkrow took off to another tree and waited.

Quickly he followed, careful not to lose sight of the black bird ahead of him. Too quickly they reached the edge of a clearing. Sitting in the middle on a checkered blanket and rubbing the belly of his absol, was Qrow. And sat right on his lapel for all to see, was Clover’s missing pin. Honchkrow flew down and settled himself next to Qrow and tugged on his sleeve. Qrow looked up and grinned when he saw Clover, offering him a lazy two finger salute.

“Hey there lucky charm. Took you long enough.” Qrow said cheekily. Clover glared at him and stomped over to where Qrow was sat. Once he reached the ruby eyed man he crossed his arms and tapped his foot, looking at Qrow expectantly.

“Join me for lunch? It’s such a lovely day for it, isn’t it?” Qrow chirped, tilting his head innocently. Oh he was asking for now.

“Qrow.” he said plainly, “Give me my pin. I need to get to work.” He held out his hand and waited. He wasn’t gonna play this game today. He had too much to do.

“Aww. You’re no fun Cloves. Guess we need plan B. Kingfisher now!” Qrows shout was met with Clover suddenly being lifted into the air. Clover let out a surprised yelp and turned his head to see his partner, eyes glowing pink, using psychic on him. That traitor! He raised her from an egg and this was how she repaid him? How could she?

“Kingfisher put me down!” he demanded, struggling in the physic grip of his partner. She did not in fact, let him go. At least not until she had him above the blanket and positioned next to Qrow. He was unceremoniously dropped on his ass next to his boyfriend, who quickly wrapped his arm around Clover's shoulder and pushed his absol onto Clover's lap.

“Now you’re trapped. You can’t escape. Eat lunch with me.” Qrow grinned, placing a sloppy kiss on Clovers cheek. The jade eyed man glared at Qrow and wiggled in his grip.

“Qrow, please I really need to get back to work.” Clover sighed when his wiggling attempts didn’t work.

“Nope.” Qrow grinned, booping Clover’s nose. When Clover glared further at him Qrow sighed, dropping his cheery demeanor. “Cloves, you need a break. You’ve been working yourself to the bone. Please, just a few minutes to eat and relax with me. That’s all I ask.”

Qrow’s voice was achingly soft and Clover couldn’t really say he wanted to decline the offer. “Fine. Just a few minutes though. I really do need to get to work.” he conceded, sagging a bit in Qrows grip.

“I can work with that.” Qrow smiled, kissing Clover’s cheek. “Thanks for the help Kingfisher, and you too Harbinger. Couldn’t have done it without you guys.” Qrow then said, turning to scratch a finger under Harbingers chin with one hand, and petting Kingfisher's head with the other.

“Yeah.” Clover said, gently taking his pokémon into his arms, “We are having a talk about this later little lady.” Kingfisher gave him a sheepish look and nuzzled his face. She quickly flew off, Harbinger not far behind, the two playing together around the clearing.

“So, are you ready to eat?” Qrow asked, pulling some sandwiches out the cooler behind him.

“Brothers yes.” Clover chuckled. Maybe taking more than a few minutes wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe. He would definitely get Qrow back for his little prank later, but for now he could just sit, relax, and enjoy the company.

#luckycharmsweek #rwby #luckycharms #lucky charms #lucky charms week #lucky charms week bonus day #clover ebi #qrow branwen #pokemon au

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newproletarians · 4 years ago

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new proletarians

Alright, so I’m feeling a few things. I’m angry and confused at the world and my place in it, and I don’t want to lose sight of my heart. The reason that’s even on the table is that I feel—in a very real, day-to-day sense—the urge to just let it callous over with grey boogers, or whatever callouses over the hearts of Squidwards everywhere. Regular old life can do that to a devastating degree, but so can the usual suspects—things like real trauma and tragedy. I’d like to say I’ve experienced a little of both at this point in my young life, but I’m still fighting the calcification of my heart. Let’s hope that in just throwing my brain at the proverbial wall, some things stick that are worth sticking. Maybe my clarity can also be yours, reader. Maybe we can snuggle up with ourselves tonight, content that we know what the fuck is going on in the world, and smugly abstain from that which our friends could never imagine abstaining from, and which we’ve known we’ve needed to abstain from for decades. Whatever. It’s wordy. It’s a fucking blog, future me. They’re supposed to contain words. Also, maybe, if I’m writing a blog where the over 50% of the audience is myself, writing it is supposed to feel at least a little similar to masturbating.

Where to begin? Well, let’s start with this: I am a college-educated youth who attended what’s commonly referred to as the best public university in the world. I received a rolled up piece of paper symbolizing a degree on a stage with other students and professors a year and a half ago. So it’s recent. And right off the bat, in my young adulthood, I have a chip on my shoulder, having that big qualifier of “public.” I went to the world’s fanciest college... for the proletariat. What does that mean? For me, this brings to mind a lot of issues having to do with the distribution of wealth in the United States, in addition to what the hell is going on economically here and in the world—but that’s something to get into later. The more pressing issue is what the hell the role of a college-educated young person is today. DFW pretty succinctly laid out an idea of what that could be in his famous address. His point was basically that college (specifically, a liberal arts education) gives you the critical thinking skills necessary to be able to get through life under capitalism (or whatever you want to call the current regime) without going crazy. I think we can do better than that. Also, fuck it, I’m giving myself permission to be temporarily pissed off, because fuck that, dude. I know that rage isn’t always an indicator of fruitful conversation, but I gotta let some steam out somewhere. I’m sure that it’ll only lead to me being better down the line. God—I am pissed. About how we’re deciding to go about talking through issues we’re having as a society (on Twitter, but also in comments sections and in NY Times articles). I have so much anger, I’m just now realizing, and I need to process it without stupidly burning myself out on it. It’s a subject for later, and not what we’re talking about right now. Right now, we’re talking about the role of the college-educated youth today. I think we’re getting somewhere, too. I don’t think the role of the college-educated youth in today’s scenario is to correct their friends and families, nor is it to Tweet about how embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible stupid people are—however embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible they may be. The role, to me, has to do with learning this stuff. Learning about systems of power, systems of abuse (many of which hum merrily along in universities—looking at you, Searl. [My anger, you guide me, but you also lead me astray]).Staying ON POINT. The way it has to do with these things is that today’s C.E.Y. needs to notice them, understand them, then DO something about them. There are, for instance, things that we learn about privilege and prejudice in university that we may be tempted to hurl at our elders back home as insults. Our jobs, as young students, are to be sexy, fashionable, charismatic stewards of the new age. Instead of yelling at our parents about being racist, we should, say, intervene in a subtle way that guides rather than punishes. That preserves trust and connection in relationships while simultaneously doing our best to right centuries-old wrongs. But this is about so much more than that. Our role is about how we conduct ourselves as the nations intelligentsia. But that’s a question. I’m not answering it here, try as I might. I still don’t know how I feel about it. It stretches into all corners of life, this role. For instance, into several things in my life I’m mad about.

For instance, I kind of hate my closest loved ones. Oops. That’s where I’m at. Am I supposed to ignore these feelings? They’re there, they’ve been there, and if I know anything about our brains, it’s that feelings shouldn’t be ignored. That’s what dumb ass patriarchs think. The funniest/saddest part of that is that they, said dumb asses, tell themselves that suppressing their feelings is the manly thing to do. It’s honestly just the cowardly thing to do. Men are so afraid of confronting their feelings that they would rather go their entire life wearing a life three sizes too small than mention a thing about it. Anyway. They’re conditioned to feel this way by their surroundings. This—this is a great point that I would love to be a major takeaway here. The thing about being educated is that you’re aware of systems, that systems need to be changed. Fault the people who can change the systems, if anyone, but really, even they are just products of the system. The good thing is that, as a powerless mass of atomized society, we have been created by these systems knowing SOME things that are wrong with it. Now we, the crumbs of dust living in and created by the gargantuan grandfather clock of life, have the sentience necessary to band together and make switch out some gears. Picture a big hand of made of dust, fixing the clock. That’s us. That’s what the role of college educated students is today. But that’s not so much the point of this paragraph, so much is the fact that I kind of hate my closest loved ones—which feels so good to say. My best friends, for instance, are really rough individuals. One is an obvious, obnoxiously insecure, compulsive liar. He’s not super tall and weighs almost 300 pounds. It’s not nice to say this stuff, but the purpose of life isn’t to be nice about everybody all the time in your own head, or on your own anonymous blog. He alienates everyone I bring him around with his bizarre persona. His insecurity is so deep that I shit you not, almost a majority of the interactions I’ve had with him would very reasonably get a “come on,” response from anyone. He has to create little talking points to make his life feel acceptable. He’s one of those people who constantly refers conversations back to their insecurities, and how they feel so secure about them, for this reason and that reason. It’s like, Christ, man. Come on. I feel a lot more ways about this, but I’m a little scared he’ll see this some day. I’m worried he’s going to die young, because he is extremely overweight. His doctor said he’s a few months away from a heart attack/stroke unless he takes immediate action, which it seemed like he was taking initially, but it doesn’t really seem like it anymore. I don’t know. The whole situation feels extremely choked by our inability to just communicate with our fucking words. And yes, I am sounding angry, I’m not actually this angry, but consider these the bubbles from a can of soda that’s been shaken. What will be left is the only-slightly-bubbled soda. That’ll come soon. For now, there are bubbles. New paragraph.

The point that I was trying and failing to get to in the previous paragraph is that I don’t like this guy. He has a lot of great qualities, and he’s certainly not a bad person to have in one’s life—as in, he’ll never cheat on his spouse, and he’ll always go the extra mile for his friends in a certain sense. But I don’t. I wish I could just talk to him about this weird, bizarre, fucking deal breaking shit, but I just can’t. Our communication is choked. I don’t think it’s his fault, though. I think it’s to do with overlapping systems of culture that make it difficult. Maybe. Maybe that’s not the point here, and the real point is just that I feel stuck in that situation. Moving on.

(TW: sexual assault)

Another friend is a fucking bona fide sexual assaulter. He practically got #metoo’d, on a personal level. His gf broke up with him because he sexually assaulted the female half of their best-friend-couple. He fingered her while sharing a bed with her and his gf, for some confusing reason. We talked about it and he gave me this wordy, bizarre, incongruent tale of what happened. It involved a LOT of details and qualifiers. When I talked to the dude half of the couple, the guy who was (and still is) with the woman who got assaulted, he said that my friend just straight up did a ton of nonconsensual shit. He also said that when his gf told other people, more people came forward saying this guy had been creepy to other women in their friend circle. This friend absolutely has a history of gaslighting and successfully avoiding trouble by forcing his way. I need to talk to him, but again, fucking choked. I have no ability to have any kind of “real talk” with him. We do not have a venue, and the prospect of confrontation is absolutely debilitating to the average WASP-y dude. Which brings us to our next situation.

I have a great friend I met in undergrad. She is very well-liked, and while I definitely don’t agree with everything she thinks, I really value her friendship. Her boyfriend is a fucking nightmare. Not really, honestly. There are actual nightmare boyfriends. This boyfriend is more of a waking nightmare. The kind of nightmare that becomes worse because it’s so hard to call out. It just keeps going. I’ve kept CLOSE track, and every SINGLE time I’ve hung out with them as a couple, this guy crosses the line. He says condescending, mean, weird, bizarre, shit that... there’s just no better way to say it than he crosses a line that normal people don’t cross. I haven’t counted, but we’ve probably hung out close to 30 times. Every time it happens, every time I give him another chance. I got a little counseling about this situation from a friend’s mom, just in casual conversation, and her advice was to figure out what in me upset me about this guy. At that point, I realized that what Eric Andre said is true: advice is stupid. Also, that I am not going to run my life based on what this person, who I previously looked up to in a god-like way when it came to relationships, says. I am going to figure it out on my own, because it seems like everybody’s solution to relationship issues is to never talk about them, or to have some kind of inner-peace solution that makes getting abused not suck so bad (looking at you, DFW). Ugh. Okay. Moving on, again. Because yep, there’s so, so much more. Again, asking questions here, not answering them.

Also, if you’re reading this and thinking “damn, bro, your life is boring,” that’s my point. This is just normal life. These are just normal people. This is the water we’re swimming in. It’s fucking tense, man. Living in the United States is tense.

I’m running out of steam at this point, but God damn it. My brothers are dick holes. And we’re great friends. They are guys who don’t ever cause a fuss, avoid confrontation at all costs, and are nothing but rewarded for it. Sometimes I think I have something to learn from them in that regard. But is that really the life we want to live? Just don’t communicate your issues? It’s just frustrating. They act superior to others, but are categorically unable to have an honest, undiplomatic conversation. They act superior to others, and are treated as superior. It feels a little like talking to robots, talking to them, decoding what they’re saying to ascertain how they may actually be feeling in a given moment. I have no idea how they feel about me. Or anything. I don’t even think they know or care. I think they just get by, and they’re rewarded for it.

Alright, moving right along. My dad. Damn do I want to not talk to that guy. I can’t talk about anything real with him. It’s like playing ping pong where the other person can only hit the ball if it goes where his paddle already is, and his paddle’s made out of glass.

This is a sample of some real life issues I am dealing with, spoken as honestly as possible, as is evidenced by the rampant spelling and grammatical errors. College works into this as the thing that has given me recourse for dealing with this stuff. As a college educated youth, I can approach life in an informed, good way. This is life. Etc.

What am I walking away with? Well, I now know for sure that I have a lot of shit to work through. MAYBE more than one Tumblr post. Also, I guess I am proving that people still Tumbl in 2021. I am starting to really understand what the questions I have are. I think part of my issue stems from some feeling of being “out of the loop,” or having some natural, in-set outrage about not understand what’s going on, which was founded by years of being the same height as the people around me’s knees, being the youngest person in my family. Everyone around me were skyscraper people with adult conversations happening way up there. It’s a little imposter syndrome, I think, too. It comes from being the youngest, I think, too. Mixed with a natural sensitivity that I’ve noticed people like me have.

My goal is to get better at living my life. That involves understanding how I want to live, it involves understanding what my values really are, thinking through them a little, and more. I think it’s really worth it. In the meantime, I am not a work in progress. I am a fucking careful, cool, bright, talented guy who is not perfect, but is working on it. And I am going to postpone making any big decisions about my personal life until I get some clarity.

I thought I’d get more to the subject of the new proletarians, which is something I was thinking about today when listening to Harmontown and asking myself questions about what college is for if it just makes us unemployable, debt-ridden, twitter douchers. Anyway. We’ll get to it again sometime.

This was nice. Let’s do this again sometime.

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keichanz · 5 years ago

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Superstitions

I could have waited til the 19th to post this but eh, decided not to.

Spooktober Day 19: Superstitions

“If I recall, you’re the one who wanted to have this party, not me, so why am I the one stuck running all over hell getting everything you need?”

“Because you’re the best husband in the history of ever?”

A snort. “Try again.”

“In my defense, you didn’t say I couldn’t have the party, sooo really, this falls back on you, dogboy.”

“Falls back on—last I knew, it takes two people to have a discussion, not just one sneaky wench that randomly decided to significantly increase the electricity bill with all these fucking obnoxious decorations and constantly chase me outta the kitchen when all I want is some damned ramen.”

“Well clearly we know who wears the pants in this relationship.”

“God, you’re such a pain in my ass.”

“Mmm, but you love me anyway.”

Groaning aloud while his cheeky little wife cackled merrily on the other end of the line, Inuyasha adjusted the grip he had on the large box under his arm and transferred the heavy bag of various Halloween decorations to his other hand while he watched his son skip ahead of him on the sidewalk. Tai had wanted to go with him and Kagome said it was a good idea anyway so he wouldn’t be constantly underfoot while she was baking. With Izayoi hanging out with Rin and friends somewhere, she could put her entire focus into the task at hand without worry about little people’s needs.

“Just do me a favor and don’t burn down the house while I’m gone,” Inuyasha said dryly as Tai hopped about in front of him while saying something under his breath. “I gotta run to work for a bit but it shouldn’t take long, an hour tops.”

“Ye of little faith,” Kagome teased and his lips quirked upward slightly. “I’ll have you know I have everything under control—oh no, my cookies!”

“Goddammit Kago—”

“I’m kidding!” his wife said, laughing as Inuyasha released groan number two. “It’s fine, babe. I’ll save you some pumpkin cookies and a cupcake.”

“I want one, too!” Tai announced without looking back, clearly having heard his mother over the phone.

“Tai wants one too,” Inuyasha relayed and Kagome laughed. The promise of tasty treats confirmed, the two said their goodbyes and without stopping his stride the half-demon took a moment to browse his messages, noting he’d gotten a text from Miroku about the party and one from Kagome that she’d just sent ten seconds ago. All it contained was a heart emoji and he smiled.

He passed by Tai, who had for some reason stopped his hopping around and was staring avidly down at the ground and without looking up Inuyasha said, “C’mon bud, you’re gonna go to work with me for a bit and hang out with Nazuna while I take care of a few things. Remember her? You like her, right?”

When Tai didn’t give a response and he didn’t hear small feet following after him, Inuyasha paused with a frown and looked back to find that his son had completely frozen on the sidewalk. He couldn’t see Tai’s expression with how he had his head bowed, but his little body was shaking and that was what spurred Inuyasha into action.

Immediately concerned, Inuyasha pocketed his phone and backtracked to kneel in front of his son, carelessly setting the box and bags of decorations on the ground.

“Tai, what’s the matter? Are you hurt? What happened?” Putting a hand on his frail shoulder, Inuyasha ducked his head to catch a glimpse of his face. He was not expecting to find him looking absolutely horrified as he stared down at the ground, his eyes impossibly wide and his bottom lip trembling as he held back tears.

Truly alarmed now and wondering what could have possibly caused this sudden change in behavior, Inuyasha smoothed back his bangs and tried to tilt his face up with a finger under his chin.

“Hey, bud,” he murmured and managed to get his son to lift his face enough to gaze into eyes identical to his own and awash with unshed tears. “What’s the matter? Nazuna’s not that bad, is she? I thought you liked her.”

Despite his attempt to get him to smile, Tai’s expression didn’t change, however he did manage to get a response from him.

“M-M-Mamaaaa,” he whimpered as the tears fell down his cheeks.

Inuyasha frowned. “What about your mom? We’ll only be gone an hour, Tai, then we can—”

“I b-b-broke her b-baaaaaaack!” Tai wailed and then abruptly dissolved into sobs right there in the middle of the sidewalk, heedless of the passersby that were giving them various looks of concern and annoyance.

Inuyasha reeled back and gave his son a puzzled look.

“You—what?” he asked. Why the hell did he think that?

Tai didn’t answer and continued to sob, tears running unchecked down his face, his little ears wilted on top of his head as he called out for his mother.

Reacting to his son’s distress, Inuyasha’s own ears flattened and he winced, gathering his boy close and holding him as tiny hands clung to his jacket. He had no idea why he suddenly thought he broke Kagome’s back, and his gentle inquiries about it went ignored. Or maybe he was too upset to answer, but in any case, Inuyasha needed to get to the bottom of this.

Sighing, Inuyasha rubbed his back and tried to calm him down enough so he could get an eligible answer out of the boy, but when Tai just shook his head and called and managed to say something about a crack through his tears, it suddenly clicked.

Inuyasha blinked and dropped his gaze down to the pavement below their feet. The cracked pavement.

“Step on the crack and you’ll break your mother’s back.”

Inuyasha wanted to laugh as relief flooded him and he released a little chuckle as he shook his head. Oblivious to his father’s realization, Tai continued to cry for his mother and thinking they’d drawn enough attention already, the older half-demon decided it was time to put a stop to that.

“Alright,” he soothed, using is jacket sleeve to wipe the child’s wet cheeks and simultaneously gain his attention. “C’mon, calm down. That’s enough, Tai. Stop crying.”

At the gentle reprimand, recognizing the faint stern tone of his father’s voice, Tai took a few deep, stuttering breaths and controlled his sobs to sniffling and hiccoughs. His little nose was red, his eyes were still wide and shining with tears as Inuyasha produced a tissue out of nowhere – Parent Tip #541, never leave home without them – and prompted him to blow his nose.

“Your mom is fine,” Inuyasha promised as Tai obediently blew his nose into the tissue. “You didn’t break her back. Was all this because of that old saying where you step on a crack and break your mom’s back? Is that what this is about?”

Sniffling and giving sucking in a shaky breath, Tai nodded wordlessly, lifting a hand and scrubbing at his eyes.

Inuyasha shook his head. “That’s just a superstition, Tai. Something that was made up a long time ago by some whackjob with nothing better to do. It’s not real, and I promise your mom is fine and her back isn’t broken.”

Tai sniffled and still looked unconvinced, so with a sigh Inuyasha gathered his son into his arms and retrieved his cell from his pocket once again.

“You wanna talk to her and see for yourself?” he asked as he brought up Kagome’s number.

Cradled in his dad’s arm, Tai stuck his thumb in his mouth and nodded.

While waiting for his wife to answer, Inuyasha put the phone on speaker and managed to balance the kid in his arms as he collected the bags and box off the ground, keeping a firm grasp on the mobile.

It went to voicemail and Inuyasha rolled his eyes. Of course the one time she didn’t answer he needed her to so Tai didn’t believe she was really incapacitated.

And speaking of, his son turned big gold eyes his way, once more awash with unshed tears and suddenly Inuyasha understood why Kagome was never able to tell him no. Not when he looked like that because he was just about ready to drop everything and sprint home.

Sighing, he put the phone away and kissed Tai’s forehead. “S’okay, bud,” he assured and started walking down the street again. “She probably just has the mixer on or something and will call back when she noticed the missed call. Trust your old man when he says Mama is perfectly fine, alright? If I could I’d take you home to see for yourself, but the thing at work can’t wait anymore. I promise to be quick, though. Will you keep Nazuna company while I work?”

Inuyasha rubbed his son’s ear with his free hand and although he was clearly still upset, Tai sniffled once, whimpered, and gave a single nod before tucking himself under his father’s chin as a small arm wrapped around his neck.

Wishing he could do more for the distraught child in his arms, Inuyasha sighed, nuzzled Tai’s head, then continued toward his truck parked on the side of the street, praying that Kagome would look at his phone and call him back.

She didn’t call him back and when Inuyasha went to collect his son from the company daycare fifty-two minutes after they’d arrived, Nazuna’s worried face as she peered at him from over Tai’s head told him everything he needed to know.

The caretaker gave him a questioning look as she transferred the tiny half-demon into his father’s arms and Inuyasha grimaced before shaking his head. Nazuna frowned but nodded, then her face bloomed into a gentle smile as she leaned down and bid Tai a fond farewell, brushing back his bangs and saying she hoped to see him again soon.

Tai didn’t say anything and hid his face in Inuyasha’s shoulder.

Inuyasha shrugged helplessly and with an understanding smile, Nazuna walked them to the door, giving one last wave before closing the door after them.

The ride home was quiet and Inuyasha kept sneaking glances at him in the rear view mirror. He didn’t even play with the toy he’d brought along with him and Inuyasha pressed his foot down on the accelerator a little harder.

When he pulled into their driveway eight minutes later Inuyasha breathed a sigh of relief and wasted no time in cutting the engine, hopping out, and getting Tai out of his booster seat. He’d get the decorations later; right now his son was more important.

“Okay, buddy,” Inuyasha murmured as he gathered his son into his arms and walked toward the side entrance that led to the mudroom. “Let’s go get those cupcakes your mom promised us, yeah?”

Hopping the three steps, he entered his home and even through the door that led into the kitchen Inuyasha could smell that his wife had been very busy while he was gone. Tai must have noticed the scents of chocolate, pumpkin, and his mother too because his nose started twitching and he lifted his head.

With a tiny grin, Inuyasha opened the way into their kitchen and Tai spotted her the exact moment she turned around, brown eyes bright and a big smile on her face.

“My boys!” she greeted as Inuyasha set their desperately squirming son down. “You’re just in time, I have some yummy treats—”

“Mama!”

Faster than a blink Tai hurled himself at Kagome with such force she stumbled back with a startled gasp. Clinging to her legs and crying into the fabric of her jeans, Tai’s grip was vice-like as he sobbed over and over that he thought he broke her back and how glad he was that she was okay.

Utterly perplexed but more concerned at their son’s behavior, Kagome shot Inuyasha a wide-eyed look of complete befuddlement but when he just shook his head and mouthed “later,” she nodded and knelt down to console her five-year-old.

“Hey,” Kagome cooed, coaxing her son to release her legs and wrap his small arms around her neck inside. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m okay, see? Nothing’s broken, I’m aright, I promise...”

Kagome picked him up and cuddled him, rocking him in her arms, murmuring to him quietly and rubbing a downy soft ear in his fingers in an attempt to soothe. It worked, because Tai finally settled down to sniffles and quiet whimpers, clinging to his mother for dear life and refusing to let go.

“Y-you’re really okay?” he asked, tilting his face up and gazing up at her with liquid amber eyes.

Kagome smiling lovingly down at him and pressed her lips to his forehead, then his runny nose. “Yes, baby, I’m okay. I don’t think I’d be able to pick you up if I weren’t! Oof, Tai, you gotta lay off the ramen. Your mom’s a weak little human compared to my strong half-demons!”

As she’d hoped, that managed to get a little giggle out of her son and both parents relaxed at the sound.

Confident their boy was going to be okay now, Inuyasha left to retrieve the bags from the truck while Kagome wandered over to the kitchen counter with Tai in her arms.

“I don’t know about you, but I can definitely go for a big chocolate cupcake and whaddaya know, I saved the biggest one for my big boy!”

Outside, Inuyasha had just shut the truck door with bags in his hand and box under his arm when he turned to find a black cat calmly sitting at the end of his driveway, staring at him with big yellow eyes.

Inuyasha froze. The cat blinked slowly at him, yawned, then stretched languorously before leisurely strolling away, thin black tail raised high and swaying back and forth as it disappeared into the neighbor’s yard.

Inuyasha watched it go, sighed heavily, then tipped his head back to glare up at the overcast sky.

“That’s not funny.”

#superstitions #spooktober prompts #day 19 #oneshot #inuyasha #tai #kagome #keizfanfiction #fanfiction

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jengis-morrangis · 6 years ago

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Baby Fever

So here’s another fic. I don’t really know where I was going with this. Any feedback is always welcome and my ask box is open.

For some problems, Dipper could usually trace them back to a single event and find out what caused them. It may not be so direct all the time, rather more of a small snowball rolling down a hill, collecting more snow as it goes along until it forms a massive snowball.

This time, however, Dipper remembers exactly what caused the problem.

They were fourteen. Mabel was out with their mother getting a checkup while Dipper stayed at home reading a book on the couch. The door burst open and Mabel came running in the house and bolted upstairs with tears in her eyes, avoiding looking at Dipper. He put down his book and got up to follow. Something was wrong. As he approached the bottom of the staircase, his mother walked in and motioned for him to stop. He could tell by the look on her face that she was stressed.

“Hold on there, Dipper.” She said. “I think it’s best we let Mabel have some time to herself for now.”

“Why? What happened?” Dipper asked concerned. Ms. Pines didn’t answer right away. Instead, she sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Dipper sat down and she reached out and took his hands. She wasn’t making eye contact, and the longer she didn’t speak made Dipper’s worry grow more and more.

“During the checkup this morning,” She said with a voice so small and that tugged on Dipper’s heart. “The doctor found out that Mabel can’t have babies. She’s devastated and I think it’s best we give her some time alone.” Dipper couldn’t believe what she was saying. Mabel loved babies. If anyone deserves a baby it should be her.

He waited on the stairs for about forty-five minutes, give or take a few. His mind was everywhere at once. This was such a surreal situation. He had no idea what to say, he just knew he had to be with her right now. Be by her side. He could hear her crying from her room, and every instinct in his mind told him to go to her, but he forced himself to wait.

When he no longer heard her crying, he quietly walked up the stairs and stood at her door. He took a breath before gently rapping on her door and announcing himself. “Hey Mabel. It’s me. I’m coming in, alright?”

He slowly opened the door and saw Mabel on her bed wrapped in her sweater. He quietly tiptoed across her room and sat on the edge of her bed. He looked down at Mabel silently sobbing in her sweater. He gently laid his hand on her arm. She shifted slightly and her hand popped out of the hem of her sweater in search of his. He held it tight as she took a deep, shuddering breath.

She peaked out from the neck of her sweater and Dipper’s heart nearly snapped in two. She had a look of sadness like none other he had ever seen in her. Her eyes were filled with tears. He knew immediately that her despair was immeasurable. She was heartbroken.

He wanted nothing more than to fix this. He would do anything. But even though he didn’t want to accept it, he knew this couldn’t be fixed.

===

As time went on, Mabel began to recover, but he knew she would never be able to fully move on from it. She was different. Ever so slightly. Most people wouldn’t even notice, but Dipper did.

There were a few times when he noticed her behaving differently. Sometimes when they walk through a park or down the sidewalk, he caught her staring at a mother and her child with a look that can only be described as envy and longing. He thought that someday she may be able to overcome it and fill the void, he hoped so.

Years passed, and one day in the middle of their junior year of high school their parents sat them down to talk. They sat across from each other at the dinner table, with the twins on one side and them on the other. The twins could tell it was something serious by the way their parents were acting. They didn’t usually have ‘family meetings’ unless it was something important.

“Kids,” Their mother said with a voice of excitement. She looked at her husband with a look of anticipation that he returned as they squeezed their hands tighter together. “Your father and I are excited to say that soon you two are gonna be older siblings!” She said excitedly.

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked cautiously. She wasn’t saying what he thought she was, was she? Ms. Pines gave another excited breath.

“We’re having another baby!” She announced merrily.

Dipper’s eyes shot open, he gasped and started coughing uncontrollably as he choked on his own spit. He was excited about the news, as he rightfully should be. But he couldn’t shake the worry of what this might mean for Mabel. His parents could see the look of anxiety on his face.

“Easy there, Dip.” Said Mr. Pines. “There’s no need to freak out over this. We’ve raised both of you, so one more baby won’t be too different. Just think about it; soon you two are gonna be older siblings! How cool is that?” Mabel was bouncing up and down in her seat in excitement, shaking Dipper by the arm.

“Oh my gosh, Dip! I’m gonna be a big sis!” She squealed.

“Alright, settle down now.” Their mother said with a grin. “We expect you guys to help out with things. Having you two was a lot of work, and this baby is gonna require a lot of care, so we need you two to pitch in.”

”Oh my gawd! I gotta tell Wendy and Grenda and Candy and ahhh I can't believe it!” Mabel squealed excitedly before running off, screaming in delight. Once she had disappeared up the stairs, Dipper turned back to his parents. The news was delightful, but he couldn’t help his worrying for Mabel’s sake.

“You guys don’t think this might be unhealthy for Mabel?” He asked. “I mean you’ve seen how she acts around babies. You really think she can handle this?”

“Dipper, didn’t you see how excited she was? Everything is gonna be fine.” Mr. Pines assured. Dipper still didn’t feel convinced.

His parents must have been able to tell, because his mother added, “Look Dipper,” Her voice was gentle and caring. “I know you’re looking out for your sister, and that’s really sweet, but we didn’t plan this. It’s not usual for adults our age to have another baby, but I can promise you this will be heavily rewarding, just like you two were.” He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. Immediately he knew she felt the same way; she was worried. The scars were still fresh, and what happened to Mabel had hurt them all.

“Okay mom, I trust you.”

===

The months went by with them performing their extra duties. They all had to pitch in to be sure their mother and the baby were healthy. Dipper had never seen Mabel so excited. She would always spend time with their mother if she could, holding her belly and pressing her ear against the ever growing bump. Like a child waiting to open their christmas gift. His worry began to melt away gradually as he saw how happy she was. She never seemed to be upset by any of it.

Soon their mother gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Little Gabriel. He was so small. No bigger than a loaf of bread. He was so warm in Dipper’s arms as he slept peacefully.

Mabel was always excited to interact with him. Whether it be feeding, changing, or playing. Dipper also enjoyed it, and had eased back on his worrying about Mabel. He loved seeing her smile so much.

It might have been a side effect, but Mabel also seemed to be more touchy-feely and affectionate with Dipper. More sleepovers in the same bed, more cuddling time on the couch, and a daily kiss on the cheek. He didn’t think much of it— Mabel had always been affectionate, and judging by how joyful she was it seemed fitting. It seemed like she may finally be making serious progress, and Dipper couldn’t be happier for her.

As spring break was nearing, their parents had gone out for their first date night since Gabriel was born and had left the twins in charge to take care of Gabriel for a night.

Dipper had gone to the store to pick up groceries for dinner, and Mabel stayed home to watch after Gabriel. When he came back, he entered quietly since Gabriel was sleeping when he left.

He began preparing dinner, expecting Mabel to come downstairs and give him one of her usual hugs and a kiss on the cheek, but there was nothing. Not a sound.

Once he finished preparing dinner he went upstairs to find Mabel, but she was not in her room, so he assumed she was attending to Gabriel.

The door was slightly ajar, so he silently opened the door and stepped in. Across the room he saw Mabel in a chair next to the cradle as she held Gabriel in her arms. She hadn’t noticed Dipper yet as he looked at her. She had a deep look of love and affection that made him feel warm. He looked down at Gabriel and noticed part of Mabel’s shirt was pulled up and Gabriel was sucking on her breast.

Dipper froze. He wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. In that moment Mabel looked up and made eye contact with him. She froze as well, and the loving look she had before was now replaced with fear. After a few seconds of their awkward staring contest she quickly pulled down her shirt and stood up. She took a step away from Dipper and pulled Gabriel closer.

“Mabel… what was that?” Dipper asked with trepidation. “What were you doing?” He spoke calmly, but serious. He forced down the anxious voice in the back of his mind to keep himself from panicking. He didn’t want it to be true, but knew the answer was obvious. “Mabel, were you… were you breastfeeding Gabriel?” She looked down at Gabriel, face suddenly flushed. Dipper was no expert in biology, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t how breastfeeding worked. “Mabel, hand me Gabriel.” He said, reaching out to her. She shied away and held Gabriel closer.

“No no no no.” She spoke quickly in panic as she shook her head. “Dip please you can’t take my baby.” He stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped and the back of his neck turned cold. She looked him in the eyes with sheer terror. More pieces started to fall into place.

“Oh no.” He said quietly. “Oh no, Mabel.” He thought from her excitement for Gabriel that she had somehow been at peace with it, but clearly it hadn’t seemed to change much, if at all. “Mabel, I’m so sorry for what happened but Gabriel isn’t your baby.” Mabel began to cry. Her sobs were painful, and Dipper felt horrible.

Dipper extended his arms and she reluctantly but carefully handed him Gabriel. He put Gabriel back into the cradle before turning back to Mabel. She was curled up in a ball with her knees drawn to her chest. She was sobbing into her arms as they wrapped around her knees and shoulders. He knelt down next to her and wrapped his arms around her in a protective hug. She lifted her head up and their eyes met. He knew just from her eyes how much this tore at her, how long she had held this in. He wanted nothing more than to help her, to fix the problem, but he knew he couldn't.

Before he realized it, she was pressing her lips to his. Dipper completely froze, and his eyes were wide with shock. They both stayed there for a moment before she pulled away. She looked him in the eyes again, she was so scared. She became flustered, and was shaking as she quickly stood up. She started backing away towards the door, rubbing her trembling hands together nervously. Dipper had never seen her like this.

“Oh my god.” She said. “Oh my god, Dipper I’m so sorry.” She began sobbing into her hands as she quickly walked out the door and down the hall. Dipper heard her door slam shut a few seconds later.

Dipper couldn’t move. He was confused, shocked, but concerned. He didn’t know how to respond to this. It took him a while to really wrap his head around what is really going on. He didn’t want to even think it, but it seems like Mabel must have developed some sort of mother complex over Gabriel. Oh boy.

The more he thought about it, the more pieces began to fall into place; her behavior around Gabriel definitely seemed like that of a mother, she spent pretty much any time she could with him, and now the breastfeeding. Dipper knew this wasn’t healthy for her. Then there was that other thing. The kiss. Yeah, that thing.

What was that for? He didn’t want to think it, but he knew it was likely true; she was putting him in some sort of father position over Gabriel. They would have some nights where they would watch over Gabriel together. Mabel would usually lean into Dipper and rest her head in the crook of his neck as they looked down at the small baby sleeping gently. Thinking back, it seemed so obvious. Thinking about it made Dipper’s stomach tighten.

Mabel’s outburst must have startled Gabriel, because his cries suddenly filled the room. Dipper sat in the chair next to his cradle and gently rocked it side to side, Suddenly feeling so alone and so underprepared for this, so lost. Alone with his thoughts, and crying baby Gabriel.

You and me both. He thought.

#pinecest #myfics

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years ago

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Chapter 3

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by George deValier

Lovino stormed into the kitchen, slammed the bag of flour down on the bench, and spun around to stare fiercely at Feliciano. Feliciano squeaked, took a step back and clutched the tomatoes to his chest. Lovino could look so scary when he wanted to.

"What is that irritating tune you've been humming all afternoon?" asked Lovino irritably.

Feliciano scratched his head. "Huh? Oh." He'd barely even realised he had been softly singing 'Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart' since they left the tavern. He shrugged. "It's not irritating, it's pretty." He immediately started humming it again as he placed the tomatoes in the large but pitifully empty fruit bowl.

"It's stupid. Stop it. Stop it now."

"But Lovino…" Feliciano whined.

"You need to take things a little more seriously, Feliciano," said Lovino, his tone both condescending and frustrated. "You can't just spend important meetings like that sitting and singing along to the radio. This isn't a game. You need to be serious, like me and Grandpa." Lovino immediately jumped when Grandpa Roma walked into the room behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"What's all this I hear about being serious?" asked Roma, grinning cheerfully as he placed the small bag of oranges on the bench. "Don't listen to your brother, Feliciano, he's far too serious for his own good. And you have a beautiful voice just like your Grandpa!" Lovino opened his mouth indignantly but Roma just raised a hand and said, "Try this one…" before bursting into a loud, roaring rendition of Verdi's 'La Donna è Mobile', his favourite canzone. Feliciano laughed loudly, clapped in delight and joined in while Lovino placed his hands over his ears and grimaced as though in pain.

"La donna è mobile, Qual piuma al vento, Muta d'accento — e di pensiero."

"Grandpa, don't be ridiculous!" Lovino backed away from them, looking indignant. "I meant it!"

Feliciano giggled and he and Roma just sang louder while slowly advancing on Lovino.

"Sempre un amabile, Leggiadro viso, In pianto o in riso, — è menzognero."

"STOP!" cried Lovino. As he continued to sing, Roma took a cooking pot from the bench and placed it on Lovino's head. He closed in on one side of Lovino as Feliciano closed in on the other, and they both sang as loudly as they could while Lovino seemed to be fuming with anger and trying not to laugh at the same time. "Go away! Stop it! Leave me alone! You're both crazy and I'm leaving this family!"

Feliciano and Roma, still singing, chased Lovino as he ran out of the kitchen into the front living room, where he immediately stopped short and fell silent. Feliciano looked over to find Antonio, their Spanish accomplice and informant, standing in the front doorway and smiling at Lovino in an amused way. Lovino turned bright red, tore the pot from his head, and scowled at the Spaniard. "What are you looking at, bastard?"

"Antonio!" cried Roma in delight, crossing the room and pulling the dark haired man into a warm embrace. "Ah, thank the good Lord! I was hoping to see you soon!"

"Greetings, Roma! It's good to see you!" Antonio looked slightly tired and a little unwashed, but his smile was as wide and genuine as ever. Feliciano liked Antonio. He was cheerful and friendly and always brought him something whenever he visited, which was more and more often these days.

"Antonio! Did you bring me a present? Huh, huh, did you?" asked Feliciano eagerly, rushing over to Antonio and jumping around him excitedly. Antonio laughed and ruffled Feliciano's hair. Lovino just folded his arms and scowled from the kitchen doorway.

"Of course I did, Feli! This time I have…" Antonio paused dramatically before reaching into the large bag slung over his shoulder. Feliciano waited impatiently before Antonio finally pulled out a soccer ball. Feliciano gasped and grabbed the ball from Antonio's hands.

"Yes! Perfect! I lost my last one, actually Lovino lost it, and it's been impossible to find a new one and I've actually been wanting one of these lately because…" Feliciano felt a sharp pain in his skull as Roma slapped him over the back of the head. "I mean, uh, thank you, Antonio!"

"You're welcome, Feliciano. And I have something special for Lovino!" Lovino stayed where he was, glaring from across the room.

"Lovino, my dear boy!" said Roma. "Stop being a rude little bastard and get over here."

Lovino reluctantly made his way across the room, his arms still folded and his face twisted in a sour expression. Antonio reached back into his bag, pulled out a small red object then tossed it in the air, caught it, and held it out to Lovino with a flourish. Lovino just glared at it.

"A fucking tomato?"

Roma cuffed him over the back of the head. "Watch your manners, young man."

Lovino rubbed his head and glared at Roma. "Why would I want a stupid tomato, Feliciano bought a bag of them today."

"Don't be impolite, and take the tomato."

"I don't want the tomato!"

"Take the fucking tomato, Lovino!"

Lovino snarled, snatched the red fruit from Antonio's hand, then immediately wrinkled his brow in confusion. His eyes flashed quizzically at Antonio, who simply winked.

"Antonio, a thousand apologies," said Roma, spreading his hands. "I love my grandsons to death but they can be such rude little shits."

Antonio laughed and clapped Roma on the back. "Please, Roma, there is nothing to apologise for. It is I who should be apologising for the delay in my arrival. The travel routes have become so difficult in the last few months."

Roma waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, of course, I understand this. I expect you have information for me?" Antonio nodded and pulled a pile of documents from his bag. Roma led him to the large central table where Antonio sat and spread the documents. They immediately began rifling through them and talking urgently. Once again Feliciano found himself bored and he fell into a couch beside the staircase, tossing the soccer ball from hand to hand. A few moments later, Lovino sat heavily beside him. Feliciano leant over to take the tomato from his hands, but Lovino was too quick and snatched it out of Feliciano's way.

"Lovino!" whined Feliciano. "Let me see, what is it? It's not actually a tomato, is it?"

"No," murmured Lovino, staring at the red fruit in his hand. "It's hard, like it's made of glass or something." He shook it and it rattled slightly. "I think you can open it, but I can't work out how."

"Oooh," said Feliciano, fascinated. "Why did Antonio give you something terrific like that?"

"Terrific? I don't even know what it is!" Lovino held the tomato shaped object to his ear and shook it again. He scowled angrily. "Stupid Spaniard. This is going to drive me crazy."

Feliciano shrugged and again focused on the soccer ball, occasionally looking over to where Roma sat with Antonio, speaking intensely. He wondered what actions this information would lead to this time, and how it would involve everyone around him. A few phrases caught his half-hearted attention, such as "planning a landing" and "German planes stationed nearby" and "need to gather more information on this," but most of it went over his head. Feliciano just prayed that whatever came of it would not hurt Grandpa, or Lovino, or Antonio. Or Ludwig. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, he noticed Antonio looking over and winking at Lovino. Lovino rolled his eyes, maintained his scowl, and looked away, even as the tiniest curve played at the corner of his lips. Feliciano tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he watched. What was that about then?

Only a few minutes later, it seemed the business was already done. It had been fairly short this time, and Feliciano hoped that was a good sign. Roma and Antonio traded documents and when they stood Feliciano and Lovino went over to join them. Antonio gathered up his bag and thrust the papers into it messily. "I will be in town for a few weeks, Roma, so I will keep you informed."

"Yes, yes. Please come around whenever you are free. Our home is your home, my friend."

"Of course I will!" Antonio smiled before pulling Feliciano into a hug. "Stay safe, Feli."

"Visit soon, Antonio!"

Antonio nodded and when he turned, Lovino took a step back. Antonio just laughed, leant forward, and whispered something into Lovino's ear which made Lovino's eyes go wide and his face turn bright red. When Antonio pulled back he was looking at Lovino with a mixture of amusement, delight, and something Feliciano could not quite put his finger on. Roma quickly gripped Antonio's arm and steered him insistently toward the front door before kissing his cheeks a little forcefully in farewell. "Until next time! Oh, and Antonio, tell me. Can you sing?"

"Sing? Why?" asked Antonio, his cheerful smile back in place.

"Because if you look at my grandson like that again, I will castrate you."

Lovino's eyes widened further and his mouth fell open. "Grandpa!" he cried, sounding mortified.

Antonio's face went blank before Roma began laughing raucously. Antonio sighed in relief and joined in.

"No, no," laughed Roma as he clapped Antonio on the shoulder, "But Antonio, really…" Roma cut off laughing and glared. "I'm deadly serious."

Antonio's smile faltered and he backed up insistently. "We'll… uh. We'll speak soon, Roma."

"We will!" Roma gave Antonio a cheerful smile and a happy wave. But when Antonio's eyes flicked over to Lovino, Roma made a distinct slicing motion below the waist. The Spaniard hurried out and Roma clapped his hands, spun around and grinned at his grandsons. Lovino still stared wide eyed and open mouthed. "So," said Roma merrily. "Who wants pasta for dinner?"

"Ooh, ooh!" cried Feliciano, running back to the kitchen.

"I'm leaving this family," muttered Lovino again as he dragged himself behind.

Feliciano walked slowly through the field to the oak tree, unsure whether Ludwig would be waiting there. He had said he would, and Feliciano hoped desperately that he would, but Feliciano knew that he could not be sure. He felt strangely like he knew Ludwig completely, like he'd known him forever, but he had to remind himself that they had only spoken twice and it was quite possible that Ludwig barely had a thought to spare for him. After all, the last two times he had met Ludwig had been purely by chance. Could Feliciano be sure that Ludwig would turn up when actually asked? He clutched his basket tightly in his hands, hoping he would not simply be walking past the oak tree and heading towards the market alone as he did every day. But even as he tried to prepare himself for the worst, he drew closer to the tree and realised with a rush of joy that he could see someone standing underneath it. Feliciano's heart jumped in his chest and he ran the rest of the way.

"Buon pomeriggio, Ludwig!" he cried, breathless, his voice wild and joyful.

Ludwig nodded, his hands held behind his back, standing straight and alert in his immaculate grey uniform. He didn't smile, but his eyes were bright. "Guten Tag, Feliciano."

"Guten Tag," repeated Feliciano. "Good day?"

Ludwig nodded again. "Sehr gut."

Feliciano wrinkled his brow. "I don't know that one."

Ludwig's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "It means, 'very good'."

Feliciano's stomach filled with warmth. "Grazie!"

"You're welcome."

"No, no," said Feliciano, shaking his head, "You say 'prego.'" Ludwig just nodded. "Say it, Ludwig!"

"Oh, uh…"

"Say it!"

"Prego!" Ludwig shouted as though he was answering an order, then looked immediately taken aback.

"Sehr gut! Isn't this fun?" Feliciano reached into his basket and pulled out the soccer ball that Antonio had given him. "My friend gave me a soccer ball. Do you want to play?" He dropped the basket to the ground and advanced towards Ludwig slowly. Once again Ludwig looked a little thrown.

"I'm sorry? You wish to play soccer? I thought you wanted a language lesson."

Feliciano smiled and shrugged a little. "Giochiamo a calcio." Ludwig seemed a little awkward around him. But soccer… well, Ludwig played soccer. He liked soccer. Maybe he would feel more comfortable if he was kicking a ball. Feliciano thought it one of his more brilliant ideas and kept smiling as he tossed the ball from hand to hand. "Show me how good you are."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I do not think you could keep up with me."

Feliciano smirked slightly. "We'll see." He quickly dropped the ball to his foot and kicked it with all his strength. Ludwig only just managed to catch it as it flew against his chest, then stumbled backwards a step before steadying himself and coughing. He looked up at Feliciano, his expression surprised and impressed. Feliciano waited apprehensively. Ludwig opened his mouth as though to respond, stopped, then looked down at the ball. Feliciano could almost see him thinking. After a few moments Ludwig dropped the ball. He carefully removed his jacket, folded it, and placed it on the ground.

"Very well then. Lass uns Fußball spielen." Ludwig kicked the ball back.

So far, Feliciano was not very impressed. He dropped the ball to his knee, then to his ankle, and finally flipped it into the air before kicking it steadily at Ludwig, who was attempting to defend the oak tree which served as their goal. It sailed above his head and slammed into the tree. Feliciano threw his arms in the air and shouted, "Another goal to the Italian! That's six goals to me, Ludwig, I'm winning. Did you really nearly play soccer for Germany?"

Ludwig scowled and kicked the ball forcefully back to him. "I did. But not as a goal keeper."

"Why did you stop playing?" asked Feliciano as he ran forward and caught the ball. "What happened?"

Ludwig paused and ran a hand through the hair that kept falling in his eyes. Feliciano's heart beat a little faster at the gesture. It was somehow endearing. "War happened. And I joined the Luftwaffe."

"Luftwaffe is 'Air Force'," said Feliciano proudly. He was quite certain he would be speaking fluent German in no time. Ludwig nodded and almost smiled.

"Sehr gut."

"What do you like best? Soccer or flying?" Feliciano slowly began to back away, tossing the ball in the air and catching it as he went. Ludwig paused again. He always seemed to think about his answers before he gave them, Feliciano noticed. It was a smart strategy.

"They are very different."

"But you chose flying over soccer," said Feliciano inquiringly. Ludwig shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"I chose my country over soccer."

"Ludwig, wouldn't it be wonderful if instead of all this fighting we could just play soccer? Imagine, Germany and Italy and England could all have a soccer team instead of an army, and we could just play games to find out who wins, and then you wouldn't have to go off and shoot people. Ludwig, why can't we do that?" Ludwig looked startled and amused and almost sad all at once. Feliciano lined up the ball once again. "Although if you were in Germany's team I don't think they would win." He kicked the ball.

"Oh, is that right," said Ludwig. To Feliciano's surprise, this time Ludwig managed to catch the ball. He then immediately marched up to Feliciano and glared down at him. Feliciano's eyes widened and he took an unconscious step backwards. "Go stand in front of the tree." Feliciano was sure Ludwig didn't mean to be scary, but it was certainly easy to see how he had become an officer. Refusing him just didn't seem to be an option.

"All righ… ah… yes, sir." Feliciano raced over to the tree and turned back to see Ludwig throw the ball in the air and catch it on his finger, spin it, then run it across his shoulders before catching it in his other hand. Feliciano stared astounded.

"You think yourself a better goal keeper?"

"I'm sorry?" Feliciano tilted his head to the side as he continued staring, stunned. Now Ludwig was spinning the ball on his knee. How was he doing that?

"Let us see if you can stop a goal from me, Italian!" Ludwig juggled the ball between his knees, flipped it into the air, then kicked it so hard that it went flying past Feliciano's ear and smashed into the tree. Feliciano was fairly sure his heart actually stopped in his chest. Ludwig smirked. "What was that phrase you used earlier? Oh yes… another goal to the German!"

Feliciano still hadn't managed to move. "Please don't kill me."

"Come on, Feliciano," said Ludwig as he retrieved the ball and kicked it back to his starting position. "You were so confident earlier!"

"That was before you nearly took off my head!" As Ludwig lined up another kick at the tree, Feliciano threw his hands up over his head. "Dio mi salvi!" he cried as once again Ludwig sent the ball flying into the tree.

Five more goals smashed against the oak tree and Feliciano was fairly sure of three things. One - he was the worst goal keeper in Italy. Two - pretty soon there was going to be a hole right through his favourite tree. Three – when Ludwig smiled, he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. "I believe one more and I win, correct?" asked Ludwig, lining up for the seventh goal. Feliciano decided he'd had enough.

"All right, that is it." He raced forward and kicked the ball out from under Ludwig's foot.

Ludwig just blinked and looked at him in surprise. "Hey, that's against the rules!"

Feliciano grinned defiantly. "Sometimes it is fun to break the rules, Ludwig. And besides, you can't win if you can't get the ball!" Feliciano laughed gleefully and took off with the ball, kicking and weaving it away from the tree and into the field. He looked back, half expecting Ludwig to be walking away, but surprised and thrilled to find him actually chasing after him. Heart pumping, head spinning, Feliciano guided the ball into the tall grass and laughed breathlessly when Ludwig overtook him and maneuvered the ball out from under his feet. Ludwig smiled widely, a genuine smile, one of the first Feliciano had seen on Ludwig's lips, and it took Feliciano's breath away. The momentary lapse was enough for Ludwig to drive the ball away and call back to him.

"You'll have to do better than that, Feliciano."

Feliciano grinned and chased after him. Running and laughing, the sun soaked ankle high grass brushing his legs, eventually he caught up with Ludwig and in one wild, unexpected, glorious moment their legs tangled and they both fell to the ground in a breathless, laughing heap. The ball flew forgotten into the grass. Ludwig's laugh was deep, but somehow different from his speaking voice. Feliciano's stomach flipped at the wonderful sound. It was almost like some unrestrained part of Ludwig breaking free. Almost winded, but still laughing, Feliciano rolled over to face Ludwig, only inches away. He certainly looked different now, his hair falling unkempt in his eyes and his shirt slightly rumpled as he lay in the grass. Ludwig's eyes met his and Feliciano gazed back. For a long moment it felt as though time stopped as they lay like that, their laughter softly dying away, until Feliciano could hear nothing but the sound of their breathing. An unfamiliar ache spread through his chest and it took him a moment to realise what this strange craving was - he wanted to reach out and touch Ludwig. He wanted it so much it hurt; he'd never felt anything like it. Just as Feliciano unthinkingly lifted his trembling hand, Ludwig suddenly looked away and gave a soft gasp. "O, verdammt."

"Hmm?" asked Feliciano, taking the moment to drop his hand and try to bring his breathing back under control. Just what was he thinking?

"Oh, it is nothing, just…" An expression of embarrassment crossed Ludwig's face as he drew himself up into a sitting position. "I brought something for you, and…"

"Really?" Feliciano interrupted, his stomach fluttering as he sat up quickly. "What is it? What did you bring me? Is it a present? Will I like it?"

"It is not much, please, do not get excited." Feliciano nearly giggled. Was Ludwig actually blushing? He reached into his pocket, pulled out a rather battered looking wrapped bar and held it out to Feliciano. "And I think I squashed it. But, er, here. I hope you like chocolate."

Feliciano couldn't believe it. He had to stop himself from squealing as he took the bar. "Cioccolato! Oh! I haven't had chocolate since before the war! Where did you get this?"

Ludwig looked down at his hands, his cheeks still red. As big and tall as he was, he still managed to look almost like a little boy. "We had a little sent to us with our ration supplies this week. I don't really like it that much, so I thought..."

"Thank you, Ludwig! Danke, Grazie!" Feliciano immediately tore into the wrapper and took a bite, his eyes closing at the delicious melting taste of the chocolate. One of his favourite foods, it had been simply impossible to get for years now. He tried to savour it slowly. Feliciano had almost forgotten what chocolate tasted like; to taste it again was incredible. "Mmm. Ah, this is amazing. German chocolate is very good, it might even be better than Italian. Do you want some?" Feliciano opened his eyes to see Ludwig staring at him, his face red and his eyes wide. Ludwig coughed and looked away.

"No, thank you."

Feliciano shrugged. "All right. Although, do you mind if I save just a little bit for Lovino, because he really likes chocolate as well, and I think it would make him happy and he is so cranky lately, I think he needs something to make him happy… I think Antonio makes him happy but I don't think he wants to admit it, isn't that strange?" Feliciano took another bite of the chocolate bar as Ludwig took a moment to respond.

"Who is Antonio?"

"He is our friend. He is Spanish. He gave me the soccer ball. And he gave Lovino a glass tomato and then he looked at Lovino all funny and Grandpa Roma threatened to castrate him."

Ludwig's eyes widened at that. "Threatened… to…"

"Castrate him. I'm not quite sure what that means but I think it has something to do with singing soprano. Ludwig, how do you say 'chocolate' in German?"

Ludwig blinked his slightly panicked expression away. "Schokolade."

"Schokolade," Feliciano repeated. "Isn't that funny, it sounds the same… chocolate, cioccolato, schokolade. I never would have guessed you had chocolate in your pocket. I wish I had something to give you, but I don't have anything interesting in my pocket." Feliciano really did wish he had something to offer Ludwig in return. Just to be sure, he dug around in his pocket. He came out with a piece of string and a slightly battered red daisy he had picked earlier. "Here you are Ludwig, you can have this." Feliciano held out the flower and Ludwig took it hesitantly. "In Italian flower is fiore."

"Um," said Ludwig, just staring perplexedly at the flower. "Grazie." Ludwig knitted his eyebrows together, brushed his hair impatiently from his forehead, then looked up at Feliciano with a confused expression. "Why...uh..." He did not seem to know what he wanted to ask. "Why do you want to learn German?"

Actually, Feliciano wasn't sure. He'd never even thought of it before meeting Ludwig. "Because… uh…" Because it was an excuse to see you again… He tried to think of something quickly. "Because… I…" He could not think fast enough. "…wanted to see you again," he finished quietly. Feliciano never was very good at lying.

"May I ask why?" Ludwig's eyes remained fixed firmly on the flower as he twirled it through his fingers.

"I like you." Feliciano also never thought before he spoke.

"But…" Ludwig broke off and paused for a moment, obviously thinking about his next words like he always seemed to do. He shook his head, but a tiny smile played on his lips. "I like you too, Feliciano."

Feliciano broke into a broad smile. He could not remember when he had last felt so dizzyingly happy. Those five words were the best he had ever heard. But then Ludwig sighed and looked up, catching Feliciano's gaze with those too-blue eyes.

"This is probably not a good idea, though."

Feliciano began to ask why, but stopped. He knew why. "No. Probably not. But I don't care."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows but did not look away. "You are unlike any person I have ever met."

"I hear that a lot. Is it… is that a bad thing?"

Ludwig paused then shook his head slowly. "No. Not bad at all." Silence fell between them and Feliciano looked at the ground, still smiling to himself. Ludwig cleared his throat and sat up straighter, adjusting his collar and pulling his shirt down. "I apologise."

"For what?" asked Feliciano in confusion.

"I do not… I mean…" Ludwig breathed deeply and focused on fixing his collar. "I am not used to speaking so openly. And I have not spoken with someone like this before. And please take no offence but I should not have spent the afternoon playing soccer with you, as this is not an acceptable use of…"

"Ludwig, would you like me to sing you a song?"

It took a few seconds for Ludwig to stop speaking, then he fell silent, one of his hands on his collar, the other still clutching the tattered red flower. He looked up slowly into Feliciano's eyes. "You say the strangest things."

Feliciano shrugged. "I hear that a lot too. But you looked like you were getting upset, and when Lovino gets upset, I always sing him a song. Sometimes he gets angry and yells at me but sometimes it makes him feel better even though he never says so. So shall I sing you a song?"

"Yes," said Ludwig, looking immediately surprised at his answer. "I mean, sure. Why not." Ludwig twirled the stem of the flower through his fingers. Feliciano smiled as he watched Ludwig's hands. So large and strong, but they handled the flower so gently. He paused a moment, breathed deeply, and began.

"Tutte le genti che passeranno, (And the people who shall pass) O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao. Tutte le genti che passeranno, Mi diranno «Che bel fior!»" (Will tell me – "What a beautiful flower.")

Feliciano fell silent, wondering if singing a revolutionary song to a German was a very good idea. But if Ludwig recognised the song, or the words, he did not show it. He simply gazed intently at Feliciano, his expression unreadable. Feliciano continued.

"E se io muoio da partigiano, (And if I die as a partisan) O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao. E se io muoio da partigiano, Tu mi devi seppellir." (Then you must bury me.)

Feliciano faltered again, and wondered if he should stop. But Ludwig looked transfixed and said quietly, "Keep going." Feliciano did.

"E seppellire lassù in montagna, (Bury me up in the mountain) O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao. E seppellire lassù in montagna, Sotto l'ombra di un bel fior." (Under the shade of a beautiful flower.)

Feliciano sang the song much slower than he usually heard it; a gentler, quieter version of the familiar tune. The words seemed so different now, when he sang them slowly, softly, instead of shouting them wildly while dancing in a crowded room. Ludwig listened silently as Feliciano sung the last verse so quietly it almost drifted on the breeze.

"È questo il fiore del partigiano, (This is the flower of the partisan) O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao. È questo il fiore del partigiano, Morto per la libertà." (Who died for freedom.)

The last of the words died away. Feliciano did not dare to look up at Ludwig. This felt so different to when he sang with Lovino or Grandpa Roma or everyone in the Resistenza. This felt like he was showing a part of his soul to Ludwig. It felt wonderful; it felt terrifying. Only after a very long silence did Ludwig respond softly. "What is that?"

Feliciano swallowed heavily. "It's just a little Italian song."

"What is it about?"

Feliciano bit his lip wondering how to describe it. Oppression… death… freedom… Then he looked back at Ludwig's big hands and what they held. "It's… it's about a flower." Feliciano forced himself to look up at Ludwig and felt immediately transfixed by his gaze. Ludwig stared at him as though he had never seen him before, and as though he had been looking at him forever.

"What is 'bella ciao'?"

"It means 'goodbye, beautiful.'" Feliciano felt released when Ludwig finally looked away. He was almost breathless. Looking up, he saw that the sky was turning pink, the sun hidden behind orange tinted clouds. He was suddenly surprised at how much time had passed. "We have stayed too late," he said, hoping his voice did not sound as shaky as he felt. "I have missed going to the market. Grandpa will be upset."

"I apologise for delaying you." Ludwig let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. He almost seemed to be fighting with himself.

"Please don't. I much preferred being with you here." And it was true. Feliciano could not remember the last time he had felt so filled with happiness, just playing soccer and laughing and singing and watching the slowly darkening sky as the soft, scented breeze drifted past.

A sudden low, muted roar broke the stillness of the afternoon. The familiar sound of distant bombs echoed off the mountains. Everything slowed around them. Only the intermittent distant rumbling of the bombs disturbed the silence. The sun slowly broke free of the clouds, and Ludwig opened his eyes and looked straight into Feliciano's. This time neither of them moved to looked away. It felt like all afternoon their eyes had gravitated towards each other. The cool afternoon breeze gusted gently over them and Feliciano had the feeling that if he didn't move soon, he may just never move again, sitting in this open field and staring into Ludwig's blue eyes. But then Ludwig broke the silence. "I have to go."

Feliciano sighed, disappointed. Of course, he knew Ludwig had to leave at some point. But he realised he didn't want him to… he never wanted him to. "I will see you tomorrow, won't I?"

Ludwig only paused for a second. "Yes, you will."

"Oh, good," breathed Feliciano. Ludwig's eyes still stared into his, and Feliciano's chest felt strangely tight. He felt so happy that he would see Ludwig again tomorrow, but at the same time a sort of unfamiliar ache and longing overwhelmed him. It was confusing. All he wanted was to hold onto Ludwig and not let him leave. He swallowed heavily and forced his lips into a smile. "Auf wiedersehen, sweetheart." He did not even realise he had let the 'sweetheart' slip.

"Bella, ciao." Ludwig stood swiftly, placed the flower in his pocket, and marched off into the afternoon sun, stopping briefly by the oak tree to pick up his jacket. Feliciano just sat frozen, his heart thumping and his mind reeling. Had Ludwig really just called him beautiful?

Feliciano lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness, unable to even think about sleeping. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts; wonderful and terrible, beautiful and terrifying. And each and every one about Ludwig. It was so strange to feel like this; a feeling he had never felt before, yet somehow completely familiar. The stillness of the room almost smothered him, broken only by the very faint sound of the wind outside and Lovino's uneven breathing. The bedroom was large, but he could always hear the change in Lovino's breathing when he fell asleep. It was obvious his brother was still lying awake in his bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Lovino?"

"Hmm?"

Feliciano twisted his hands in the sheet. "What do you think of Antonio?"

There came the sound of a sharp intake of breath, quickly hidden by a cough. "Why on earth would you ask me that?"

"Well, don't you… like him?"

Lovino snorted derisively. "Like him? That Spanish bastard? Why the hell would I like him?"

"Well, I like him, and Grandpa does, and I just sort of thought that you did. Maybe. A little more than we do." Feliciano waited in silence for Lovino's answer.

"Well I don't."

"Oh. All right then." Silence fell again. Feliciano lay still, listening to the sound of Lovino's tossing and turning in the bed beside him. He tried to wait long enough for Lovino's anger to calm a little. "Lovino?"

"What?" Lovino snapped, sounding frustrated.

Feliciano knew his brother. He knew when he was lying, when he was exaggerating, and when he was hiding the truth with the opposite, which was exactly what he was doing now. "Have you ever thought of telling Antonio that you… don't like him?" There was no sound but that of Lovino's breathing. "Lovino?"

"Go to sleep, Feliciano." Feliciano nodded to himself, tried to focus on the sound of the wind, and twisted his hands in the sheets as his thoughts continued to chase themselves through his mind. He waited patiently until he thought enough time had passed. "Lovino?"

"For God's sake, Feliciano, what do you want?"

"You do like Antonio, and you do want to tell him, but you are worried about what might happen when you do. Not that I really blame you, because Grandpa Roma did threaten to castrate him and all, but maybe… maybe if you just explained…"

"Feliciano," said Lovino, quieter this time. Feliciano looked over at his brothers bed, but could only just make out the outline of his back in the dim moonlight that came through the window. "Sometimes we have feelings which we will never be able to express. Sometimes we have secrets that should stay that way. Sometimes…" Lovino stopped and Feliciano waited, holding his breath, to see if he would continue. "Sometimes there are things that are just not worth the risk."

Feliciano did not respond. He closed his eyes and thought through Lovino's words. It was true. He would never be able to express what he felt; the confusing but wonderful, scary but thrilling, world altering feelings that overwhelmed him when with Ludwig – just looking at him, speaking to him, sitting beside him, thinking of him. And true, maybe some secrets should stay that way. Who knew what Ludwig would think if he knew the depth of all Feliciano felt and wanted? If he knew that Feliciano wanted to touch him, wanted to stay with him, wanted to hold him close and never let him go? Feliciano faced rejection, ridicule, and so much more. Ludwig was a German officer. Feliciano was a member of the resistance. The risk was huge. Torture, execution, the destruction of his family and the entire resistance. Lovino was right. How could it possibly be worth it?

But behind Feliciano's eyelids Ludwig was all he saw – brushing his hair impatiently from his eyes; smirking as he smashed a goal against the tree; staring at him intently with eyes bluer than the sky. Confused and wide-eyed in an enemies uniform, smiling and laughing in the sun soaked grass. All Feliciano could think of was Ludwig. All he wanted was to be with him.

If Ludwig wasn't worth the risk, then nothing was.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart chapter 3

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riverforasong · 5 years ago

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Climbing Through the Wall

TW: Self Harm, Weight issues, and family instability, oh and nudity, I guess. It’s a non-fiction thing so if that’s not your bag, thanks for coming anyway!

It’s never really been a secret, per se, but I’ve only just now started to freely admit to people that I’m a nudist. Be it out of fear of how people would react, or embarrassment stemming from a, now that I think of it, weirdly conservative upbringing, I never talked about it. I would drop hints here and there, but never much explicit, even with super close friends it remained a non-topic, despite the fact that it was, and is, a very big part, and honestly, fundamental part of my life. Hell, I’m literally naked right now (Probably, depending on when you’re reading this and what time of day it is, I could be at the store or at work or something, but it’s like a solid 90 percent chance). When the topic does come up, especially with people just learning about it for the first time, I get a lot of questions about it, which is absolutely to be expected, and I don’t mind it one bit, mostly because I love talking about this kinda stuff. One of the questions that always trips me up a little bit though, is “Why?” Why choose to go naked all the time? Which seems like an easy answer, being naked is awesome, it’s more comfortable, it releases stress, and makes it easier to sleep, and it honestly baffles me why anyone would choose to wear clothes if they didn’t absolutely have to. For me at least, it’s the only time I’m ever really comfortable, clothes and I just never really gelled. But it wasn’t until recently, and I’m talking within the last 3 months recently that I realized how important it was to me, and the recovery of my self image. My self esteem has always been low, and a lot of that stems from how I physically look, but it goes even deeper than that. From here on out this story gets kind of intense,TW: Self Harm, Weight issues, and family instability, oh, and nudity I guess, but you should have figured that out by now, so if you’re not into that, maybe skip to the last paragraph? Or you could bail out here, the whole gist of it is being naked makes you feel better about yourself, you and your friends should give it a try sometimes. Got it? Good, and here we go.

I’ve always been the fat kid, right from the get go, in school that’s how I was pegged. Like a lot of fat kids, we learned to be the funny one in the group, because humour is a damn fine way to mask any and all insecurities you’re hiding within yourself. I’d always told myself that it doesn’t bother me, people are gonna say what they say and you can eiher take it personally, or let it roll off your back and make a joke about it, and that’s what I always did. Or at the very least, tried to do. It worked, or so I thought, but I’d be lying to you right now if I said it never got to me. Late night when no one was listening, it would replay over and over in my head, about how that’s the only thing people ever see in me. That’s always going to be their first impression. I will never be loved if I look like this. Now this is a batshit crazy way of thinking in retrospect, but that’s how m'brain works when it’s back on it’s bullshit. Later in life, what I now know to be an anxiety issue and mental illness, went unchecked for too long. In my family, I always had to be the level headed one, parenting the parents so to speak. My brother had sever Social Anxiety Disorder and would lash out in increasingly terrible ways that he can talk about in his own damn story, but my parents were not… I dunno, mature enough? No that seems silly, equipped to? Equipped to take care of this in the way it needed to be. Yelling begat more yelling, violence begat more violence, you see how things roll. I would always have to step in and make sure things don’t escalate any further than they already had. Taking pieces of myself and shoving them in the holes of the levee to make sure the whole place doesn’t flood. It would work, things would calm down and merrily we’d roll along until the next disaster hit. This worked for them. It didn’t however, work for me. Being the person who took care of these issues took a toll on me that I didn’t expect. See, I was just as sad and angry as everyone else, but I couldn’t express it in any way, because I needed to fix the issues before they became worse, but unlike everyone else, I had no one to check on me. No one to make sure that I was doing okay enough to function, which as it turned out, I was not. The anger and the sadness and the overall negative emotion swelled inside of me and remained bottled up until it could no longer stay. I began to cut myself to release it. I couldn’t find someone to help, and I couldn’t take it out on anyone else, so I took it out on the person who mattered least in the house, myself.

Still with me? If so, here’s a puppy.

youtube

Cutting may have relieved the emotional pain and stress I was feeling, but it also left something in it’s wake. Big, obvious, ugly, red scars. Crisscrossing my arms and legs. New ones would pop up every couple of days or so. A couple people would ask about it, I’d tell them it was my cat, which if you knew my cat made sense, ‘cause that little thing’s kind of a bastard, and the situation would be left alone. This went on for a while, longer than I’d like to admit, but the important thing was I got help. Help from friends who are truly invaluable to me in ways I could not possibly convey because I don’t know that many words. I’d love to say it got better immediately, and I never even thought about doing it again, but shiiiit, you know that’s not how life works. I still struggle with it to this day. I was however, on the road to healing, both physically and mentally. The problem remained though, these scars would be with me forever. You can still see them if you look close enough at my arms, and it’s been a solid ten years or so since the first major incidents. Now, as someone who already had a pretty low vision of himself, this did not help at all. I hated going outside, I hated putting myself out there in the world. I hated what people might think, might say, might point out. It was an awful ouroboros of thoughts leading to actions leading to thoughts leading to actions. I was disgusted with who I was and what I looked like. From the fat, to the scars, to the fact that I thought my head was too big, and my feet too small. Now, as a guy, you don’t know that you get to feel this way. We don’t talk about how men can obsess over their looks and how it makes them feel as much as we really do. There’s not a lot of self help books for that kind of situation, or if there is, I sure didn’t find any. Mostly 'cause I didn’t look that hard, mostly because I was afraid to ask for help, mostly because I didn’t know I was allowed too. There’s that ouroboros again.

This is where the whole nudist thing kicks in. See, my whole life, I always kinda hated clothes, getting dressed, shopping for them, gah, I just hate it. I was always more comfortable naked than anyway else. My parents on the other hand, wanted no part of anything like that. I remember as a 4 year old getting told I was too old to walk around without being fully dressed. Socks, Pants, Underwear, Shirt, the whole 9 yards. I remember bring up the subject to my mom, who was so horrified at the concept of me being a nudist she actually started yelling despite herself. We once watched a documentary where one of the characters was raise in a nudist family, there weren’t even on screen, and my parents would rally against them, talking about how it’s sick and why have these people no shame? I always gave a half-harted affirmation, but on the inside, it was killing me. I never drank, did drugs, had underage, unprotected sex, got into fights, that wasn’t really my thing. My rebellion was being naked. Naked inside, outside, sometimes with friends, sometimes in public, for as long as humanly possible, down to the last millisecond I could. But during the rough patch, I hated how I looked so much I stayed covered up, to a ridiculous degree. I’m talking long sleeve shirts in summertime, wearing shorts in the bathtub kind of covering. It was a mess. I figured the whole thing was a phase and it was time to outgrow it. It was time to repress some feelings and urges, and get back shoving my emotions and feelings of inadequacy back down my own throat.

I know it was a stupid idea. I’m also in the future.

This went on for a while, although I can’t remember how long. I felt miserable, and couldn’t figure out why. I kept wearing increasingly baggy clothes to hide what I though deserved to be hid. But I wasn’t getting any better internally, it just looked like it. I didn’t feel any better about the way I looked, I just stopped looking. I don’t know what changed, eventually. Something did though. Maybe I just cracked through the shell I had formed around myself. But for the life of me, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I may have hated the way I looked, but I hated clothes more, I guess.

When you’re naked for a long amount of time, a few things happen. At first, you’re highly aware and tactile about every single thing around you. You’re aware of every imperfection on your body, from love handles, to acne, to scars, to weird ingrown hairs, to what you need to shave, to how dry your knees are. Everything, Every. Damn. Thing. And then? You forget about it. You focus on something else, you watch TV, you play video games, you clean the house, you check your garden, whatever it is, and you forget about what little things bug you about you. When you do it over and over again, that first part where you obsess about everything becomes shorter, and shorter, until it eventually disappears altogether. Nudity helped me come to peace with who I am, and what I look like. I may not like a lot of the things about me. But I don’t obsess, it doesn’t ruin me, it doesn’t encapsulate all I am anymore. The biggest change was seeing it happen to other people, the first time I ever went to a nude event, it was the Portland Naked Bike Ride in 2016, and you realize how diverse we all really are. I saw fat people, skinny people, trans-gendered people, men, women, children of all shapes, sizes and colours hanging out and talking to people. I was horrified about what they would think about me when I came walking in, but no one batted an eye. We talked, we laughed, we shared stories and jokes and videos about whatever. I finally realized that the only person saying these terrible things about me and they way I looked, was me.

Whenever I finally tell people that I’m a nudist, I get one of two reactions. One is always someone showing a ton of interest, but not wanting to admit it, so they ask a lot of questions, but try to do it superstitiously, and two, people who say stuff like “That’s so cool, but I could never do it myself,” and that one always bums me out. We have taught people from the time that they’re born to the time they die, that being naked is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing, and is only to be reserved for taking a shower no longer than ten minutes, and having sex in the missionary position only for the purposes of procreation after marriage, and for the love of all that is holy never speak of it, or practice it outside of these two times. It’s terrible to shame someone for something so simple and natural and helpful. To tell people right out of the gate that their body is shameful and should be hidden away because “No one wants to see that.” We kick their self esteem in the chest before it even has a chance to get started

I’m getting kind of soapbox-y and that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point is, I fully believe that nudism saved my perception of myself, and I feel like people need to give it a chance. Separate it from it’s sexual connotation and invite your friends over for a naked movie night or something like that. I even ran a naked DND session once, and it went over like gangbusters. It helps folks who t think they’ll be uncomfortable for the first time focus on something else, and realize life is just that much better. Getting people naked and watching their faces go from assuming it’s going to be awkward to genuine fun and comfort is one of my favourite feelings in the world, because we stop putting so much pressure on ourselves and what we wear and what we look like, when no one has anything to hide..

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toastedside · 6 years ago

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Theseus Scamander and His Stages of Jealousy

Summary: Theseus get jealous and how he handles his jealousy

Pairing: Theseus x Reader

Based on request by an anon: “ 41 with Theseus pls!!”

A/N: This is some messy and long fic I wrote based on these prompts. request is currently closed and this story is heavily inspired by a lovely fic by @seeingsupernatural. Enjoy!

1. Pretending Not to Care

Theseus Scamander is a man of detail. He can tell when there’s something wrong with a mere glance. He is a perfectionist man, after all. Of course, he will pay a lot of attention to details, including the smallest one. Of course, he will notice the way you tiptoe in excitement earlier today, hand clutched into your purse and eyes glossed with pure bliss. Usually, Theseus will enjoy such sight. However, today, that lovely sight that usually brought smile to his face turn his smile upside down, slightly, obviously. He wondered how on earth you can get so excited over a mere presence of an unknown man?

“Theseus, hey!” you waved your hand towards him as soon as you spotted him watching you. He waved back. “Come, come. Let me introduce you to my pen pal. This is Pieter. Pieter, this is Theseus.”

Theseus offered Pieter a firm handshake and a slight smile. “Theseus. Head Auror. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Theseus.” Pieter nodded in acknowledgement.

“Can you believe he came all the way from German to visit me?” you slapped Pieter’s arm playfully that earned a light chuckle from him.

Theseus smiled politely, tried to pretend he was interested in conversation on how Pieter came all the way from German to England just to visit you here. At your workplace. He excused himself ten minutes later, thankful that Travers shouted his name from across the hall.

“Don’t forget we have an important meeting with Travers today,” he reminded you before he went away.

You nodded, not really paying attention to his words, much to his disliking. From the corner of his eyes, he caught the glimpse of Pieter placed his hand on your shoulder comfortably as his head threw back from laughter. You laughed along with him merrily. Clearly, there’s no words that can describe you beside merriment. Happiness. Joyful. You’re indeed very happy.

Usually, Theseus would enjoy such sight. Seeing you bubbling with happiness made his inner self swell with indescribable feelings he yet to discover. But not today. He hated to see you so happy and laughing merrily with someone he didn’t recognize.

“Oi, Scamander,” Maynard, one of few people he allowed himself to be so casual in every moment, walked right behind him. “Who’s that tall bloke with Y/N?”

Theseus had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Too late, anyway, and Maynard definitely caught the sight of it. “No idea. I don’t care, anyway.”

Maynard’s face suddenly lit up with meaningful grin, his eyes stares into him mischievously as Theseus emphasized ‘don’t care’ with so much passion.

“Oh, I see we have such condition here,” Maynard grinned widely, enough to put Theseus in his discomfort mode.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can feel the jealousy from here, Scamander.”

Theseus scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, I don’t care. Y/N is a grown woman, after all. She can befriend with anyone she likes.”

Maynard not buying it. “Of course.”

Theseus frowned, not comfortable with how amused Maynard seemed to be with his troubled expression. Theseus glanced to see the sight of you one last time before he made a sharp turn to the left. His frown deepened as he caught the blurry sight of you with Pieter, still laughing and seemingly drowning in your own world. Theseus sighed, put all his effort to convince himself that he is in fact do not care at all.

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

But does he?

2. Curiosity

“Here you go.”

You glanced up from your piled paperwork to caught Theseus smiling at you, a paper bag neatly clutched into his chest. You beamed excitedly as soon as you recognize the paper bag on his grasp.

“Is that the sandwich from down the street?” you asked hopefully.

Theseus nodded, you beamed excitedly. Theseus chuckled at your excitement as he flicked his wand lightly to summon a chair and sit across you, slowly dig into his sandwich and silently watching you enjoying your lunch. It becomes a habit, really, for Theseus to walked all the way from his office to your desk merely to eat lunch together with you in silence.

You thanked Theseus multiple times for your sandwich. Theseus took pride in how he easily memorized your sandwich order and he will gladly bring you some whenever you’re too busy to buy lunch yourself. He couldn’t remember since when it started, the habit of eating lunch together on your desk, but neither of you ever inquiry or complain anyway. There are whispers, but not enough to put Theseus’s attention on them.

He always enjoys lunchtime. He couldn’t really tell why. Maybe because it’s a short time between tight and busy schedules within his work where he can relax for a short amount of time enjoying his food. Maybe because he can have all excuses to stay in your desk, talking with you. The room is wide but he chooses to narrow it down and stare at you, anyway. But not today as an unfamiliar sight begging for his attention. He linked his eyebrows curiously.

“Is that Pieter?” he pointed the picture on your desk.

You stared into where is finger directed before smiling widely. “Yes! We took that picture today. It’s a rare moment to have your pen pal visit you, you know.”

Theseus nodded. “Since when did you know him?”

“Around a year? We started to send each other letter since last summer, if I am not mistaken,” you pondered.

“Is he staying at your place?”

“What, no!” your eyes widened at his question. “He’s staying in Leaky Cauldron.”

Theseus was about to opened his mouth again for another question before a knock on the door interrupted him. He cursed silently at the intruder.

“Hey, Y/N?” Maynard’s face popped up behind the door, much to Theseus disliking. “Are you done with your lunch yet?”

“Yes,” you quickly answer as you hastily dabbed your face with tissue.

“Travers asked you to bring the files he asked into his office.”

You mouth let out a silent “oh” as you quickly grabbed your file. You squeezed Theseus’s shoulders lightly, earned a light smile from his face before you quickly made your way to your boss’s office. Maynard, however, choose to stay in your doorframe, an amused grin splashed across his face.

“Don’t say a word,” Theseus raised his finger to warned him.

“Curious much, Theseus?” Maynard asked with such a delightful tone that made Theseus winced slightly.

“Bugger off, Maynard. For the love of Merlin!”

Maynard let out a snort of laughter as Theseus stormed off from your desk into his office as questions started to fill his head. He definitely had to find out who is this Pieter guy.

3. Spikes of Annoyance

“Y/N!”

Theseus paced into your direction as you turned around to see him walking into you hurriedly. You raised an eyebrow to let him explain himself.

“Do you want to grab some dinner with me before you went home?”

You frowned slightly at his question. “I am sorry, Theseus. But I promised Pieter to grab some dinner with him tonight at Cup o’ Joe tonight.”

Theseus only able to let out a silent oh at your rejection. You patted his hand lightly and promised him that next time you will grab some dinner with him along the way. Theseus didn’t react immediately, but he let out a loud desperate sigh as soon as you were gone from his sight.

Cup o’ Joe? Seriously?

Theseus bitterly asked himself. Cup o’ Joe is his and your favorite place to go. That should be private, that place reserved for the two of you! Who the hell is this Pieter guy that dare enough to take you away from him and he had the audacity to take you out on a dinner at Cup o’ Joe? Seriously?

Theseus kicked the wall frustratedly before he let out a pained groan. The image of you laughing with Pieter as you enjoy your dinner with him in his favorite place, favorite place to take you out for dinner enough made him shudder. He definitely didn’t enjoy the idea of you went into that place with someone beside him.

He let out a sigh, practically dragging himself home as his head filled with the thought of you with Pieter and his shoulders heavy with certain feelings he usually associated with dislike and annoyance. He had no idea why on heart he was so annoyed with the idea you took Pieter into Cup o’ Joe, given that it is a normal thing to do when a friend visited, but he decided to drown into his annoyance as he apparated home.

4. Venting and Denial

“Can you believe?” Theseus passionately pointed into random direction as he talked. “That guy invaded my favorite place to go!”

Maynard watched Theseus as he angrily yet passionately vented about how Pieter invaded his favorite place to take dinner with you. Maynard didn’t dare to say a word or lift a toe as Theseus would shoot him a glare and asked him where are you going? I’m not finished! Don’t be so rude – and the speech will take much longer than it was absolutely necessary. So, as a good friend and listener, Maynard choose to complied, sit silently and hear Theseus’s rambling about his feeling.

“And that goddamn bloke – Merlin that goddamn bloke – dare to lay a hand on her shoulder as he laughed!” Theseus spouted, his finger now angrily pointed into his piled paperwork. “My shoulder!”

Maynard raised an eyebrow. He was both amused and scared at your ability to stir Theseus madly into his jealousy and now he proudly and angrily claimed your shoulder as his. He coughed a little that enough to make Theseus glared at him questioningly.

“What?”

“My shoulder you said?” Maynard couldn’t hide his amusement.

The color from Theseus’s face suddenly faded as it turned into a shade of red as soon as realization hits him on what he just said. Theseus waved his hand lightly. “I didn’t mean in possessive way, you know. But –”

“You’re jealous.” Maynard interrupted.

“I am not!” Theseus snapped angrily. “I am not jealous. I don’t even care, okay?”

“And why on earth did you angrily accused Pieter for stealing your favorite place?”

“Because he stole my favorite place to eat!” Theseus angrily said.

Maynard raised his hands in mock surrender. There’s no use to argue with Theseus in this state of his. Theseus didn’t continue his vent. Instead, he dismissed Maynard from his office much to his pleasure.

He wasn’t jealous, okay? But the thought of you went on a dinner with Pieter at his favorite place had made him restless all night long. He was both annoyed and somewhat worried and he couldn’t even rationalize why he felt what he feels. But he wasn’t jealous. He was not jealous. Why would he?

5. Finding Distraction

As Christmas slowly approaching, Theseus would usually find himself staying at his childhood home, staring into distance as he watched his mum prepared for dinner. He had one favorite spot to sit in the backyard as it offered the best view on sunset and he would sit there with a cup of tea. Sometimes Newt would join him watching the sunset, but no conversation would appear between them two. Mainly because Theseus knew Newt never enjoy small talks, but sometimes he would initiate few conversations and Newt would mumble his responses.

However, this year, he didn’t find himself silently sit on his favorite spot enjoying his tea. Neither did he found himself inside his childhood home. Instead, for the first time in forever, Newt invited him for dinner at his flat. Theseus pondered if Newt had invited him because his American friends are in town, but he didn’t complain as he knew you would be there too. You made friend with Tina, an Auror from MACUSA, that happened to be Newt’s friend as well.

What he didn’t expect is that you would bring Pieter along with you.

He was excited to finally found a day where he can enjoy himself with you without having to see Pieter around or hear his name brought up into conversation. But he was wrong and Theseus never like being wrong. Pieter is now talking with Jacob in the living room, laughing with whatever jokes they had. Theseus was far too bitter to be able to stay in one room more than ten seconds with Pieter. So, today, he found himself in the kitchen aimlessly trying to help the cooking process.

“Theseus, dear,” Queenie called his name. “Why don’t you just sit down and have yourself some cup of tea? Teenie and I can handle this.”

Theseus frowned at her suggestion. “I insist to help.”

Queenie stared into Theseus briefly before a slight knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She didn’t say anything beside asking Theseus to chop some carrots and Theseus happily complied. Anything, anything beside staring into Pieter’s face.

“Hey, it’s snowing!” Theseus could hear your excited voice exclaimed and that alone enough to brought little smile across his face.

“Theseus!” you called his name. “Do you wanna build a –”

“Absolutely not.”

Your face fell as soon as his immediate answer rolled out his tongue. Theseus didn’t even bother to turned around to face you and that alone enough to pull a frown on your face. You stared into Queenie and Tina, who apparently, were also surprised with his answer.

“Alright, then,” you quietly said, “You’re free to join us if you change your mind.”

Theseus didn’t have to turned around to see your frown. He nearly turned around to apologize when Pieter butted in and pulled you outside to play under snow. The only reason he wasn’t so mad was because he knew Jacob tagged along, but that didn’t enough to put his mind at ease.

6. Reflection

Theseus stared into the ceiling, blinking rapidly before he shut his eyes briefly before he let out another frustrated groan. His mind wouldn’t let him sleep as the thought of you frowning at his harsh answer to your offer keep playing inside his head like a broken radio. Was he too harsh? Did you take it the wrong way?

Theseus tossed himself around uncomfortably multiple times before he gave up and went to kitchen to grabbed some drink. He was surprised to spotted Newt sitting on the dining table with his papers, scribbled something on the paper not noticing Theseus’s presence on the kitchen and only to look up when Theseus pulled a chair and sat down.

“Oh, Theseus.” Newt called his name, there’s a hint of surprised on his voice. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I can’t sleep,” Theseus simply answer.

“Does Jacob snore in his sleep?” Newt asked.

Theseus blinked for few minutes, mentally reminded himself that he was in fact staying at Newt’s house and he and Jacob slept and Newt’s room. Theseus shook his head and said no.

“My mind is loud and at this point I am trying to accept the fact that I messed up.”

Newt raised his eyebrows.

“Y/N hates me and I didn’t even see her after dinner, you know –”

“Of course, she accompanied Pieter to his portkey.” Newt interrupted.

“Wait, what?” Theseus blinked. “Portkey, you said?”

Newt nodded without bother to stare into his brother’s eyes. Instead, his eyes now busy staring into his papers and his hand started to dance along with his quill. “Yes. Pieter went back to German after dinner. Y/N tried to find you but you were nowhere to be found.”

Theseus’s heart sank at Newt’s explanation. He couldn’t really tell if his inner self bubbled with relieve or guilt, perhaps both. “I think I should find her and apologize. I feel like I was too harsh and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. Yes, I should do that.”

Newt looked up into Theseus as he summoned his coat and dressed up. He linked his eyebrows in confusion. “Theseus, where are you going this late?”

“I need to apologize.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

Theseus quickly made his way through the door, not bothering to listen to Newt’s sighs.

7. Reckless Decision

Theseus stared into the wooden door right in front of him. His hand raised in the air attempted to knock, but he quickly pulled away and pressed his head into your front door instead, let out a desperate sigh. He pondered for ten minutes, trying to make decision to whether knock on your door or not. He was so sure to apologize when he apparated from Newt’s front door into yours. But as soon as your front door came into sight, he was suddenly hesitant and confused on what he supposed to say.

After ten minutes pondering, he braced himself to knocked on your door. You answered grumpily at his third knock, right before he turned around and left. You were surprised to spot him at your front door. Theseus smiled at you.

“Theseus? What are you doing here?” you asked. “It’s freezing. Come inside.”

Theseus complied without a word. He been here before so many times that he lost count, and he can memorize every corner of your lovely house in a beat. He quickly made himself comfortable at your couch and you followed to sat next to him.

There was silence as soon as you sat down next to him. He didn’t say anything and you were far too sleepy to initiate a conversation. Theseus’s eyes wandering around your house, scanning every single detail he already can memorize in a beat.

“I heard that Pieter left,” he finally said.

“Yeah,” you yawned. “He was trying to bid farewell to you but you were nowhere to be found.”

Theseus grinned awkwardly. “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, he was in rush anyway,” you waved your hand to dismiss his apology.

“No, listen.” Theseus grabbed your hand midair and suddenly you’re wide awake. “I am sorry.”

You blinked at his words.

“I am sorry for being so annoying these past days. You know, I am just really annoyed that you seemingly forget my existence whenever Pieter around. You keep talking about him and spending time with him. You took him to Cup o’ Joe, it’s our sacred place!” he breathed, “and I am sorry for being too harsh when you asked me to join you build… uh, a snowman?”

“Theseus –”

“The thing is, what I’m trying to say is I hate that Pieter can make you laughing so merrily in the way I wished I can. And he can catch your attention effortlessly and I don’t like that I never had the nerve to do the same thing.”

You blinked. “Theseus, what –”

“Listen,” he cut you off. “I like you. Oh, bloody hell. I think I am in love with you in every possible way. It never crossed my mind before but I definitely hate the idea you’re with someone else.”

You didn’t respond right away, but a smile slowly tugged in the corner of your lips as soon as those words rolled out from his tongue. Theseus blinked rapidly, eyes pleading for an answer but his eyelids quickly drown his pleading stares as soon as your hands find its way to his face, gently cupped his cheeks. He quickly melted into your touch and exploded as soon as your lips find its way to sweetly and gently kissed it.

“You silly,” you laughed as soon as you broke off from the kiss. “It really takes a person to make you confess?”

“Wha–”

“Pieter is just a friend. More like a brother,” you leaned closer to kissed him again. “And I believe the kiss answer your questions. I love you too.”

Theseus didn’t say anything. A wide smile spread across his face and he wondered if he ever smiled this widely before and his cheeks started to hurt from smiling too much. But he won’t complain. He get to kissed you.

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years ago

Text

The Look of Love

After two years of friendship, James and Rose finally admit to the truth they've always seen in each other's eyes.

This is a Ten/Rose Coffee shop AU, based on a Facebook post @jabber-who-key and I saw last year around the holidays. We both knew it had to be a fic, so this one is for her!

This is for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas, using the word, “love.” This is day 3 on my personal 31 Days of Ficmas.

AO3 | FF

Noble and Smith Coffee and Tea—Why not give a cuppa for Christmas?

Rose flushed with pleasure when she saw her own hand-lettered work in the window of her favourite coffee shop. She’d been doing their windows since her first year in school, but this year’s Christmas art really outshone everything else she’d done.

She’d painted an entire winter vignette, with children sledding down a hill and building a snowman. In the middle of the picture, couples skated hand in hand around a pond.

Rose stepped through the crowd of people bustling up and down the pavement so she could touch one of the happy couples. The woman’s blonde hair was loose and trailing after her in the wind, and if the bloke’s brown hair and arched eyebrow looked a lot like a certain coffee shop owner…

A twinge of nervous excitement joined her pride. She tapped the card she held against her fingers and tried to imagine how James would respond.

The bell over the door jingled merrily, adding to the festive sounds in the air. “Rose! I almost didn’t think you’d make it today—you’re later than usual.”

Rose took a deep breath and turned around to look at James Smith, the bloke she’d secretly been in love with for two years.

All her efforts to stay calm were pointless when she saw him leaning casually against the doorframe of the cafe. He was wearing his favourite brown pinstriped suit, but he’d set aside the jacket like he usually did when he was working behind the counter. Instead, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing his freckled forearms. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and the end was tossed up over his shoulder so it wouldn’t dangle in the milk when he steamed it.

Then Rose saw his crowning glory, and the schoolgirl giddiness she’d felt when she saw him was replaced with a burst of laughter. Perched on top of his head was a set of reindeer antlers, complete with a jaunty bow and a bell that jingled when he shook his head.

“What are you…” James reached up to his hair. “Oh. Donna made me wear them, you know, since it’s Christmas Eve. She got them from her granddad.” His ears and cheeks turned bright red, and he took them off and tugged on his ear.

Rose shook her head and pulled them from his hands. “I think they look perfect,” she told him as she put them back on his head. “You look very dashing.” She giggled again. “Maybe you’re Dasher?”

James preened a bit when she called him dashing, but before they could continue the conversation, a gust of wind blew down the street and he shivered violently. “Brrr! What are we standing out here for? Come inside. I’ll make you my newest holiday drink.”

Rose followed James inside and slid her coat off. “And what’s that? Cinnamon swizzle mocha? Orange spice tea? Coffee with mulling spices in it?”

James arched an eyebrow as he ducked behind the counter. “You won’t be laughing at me in a minute, Rose Tyler.”

To Rose’s surprise, he reached up to the tea canisters instead of filling the espresso pod with grounds. “What are you doing?” She sidled closer so she could watch him work.

James smirked as he measured out a bunch of spices into a tea bag. “Not what you expected, is it Rose?”

“I was only joking when I suggested mulled coffee, James.”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then turned around to a slow cooker and ladled steaming liquid into the cup. The coffee shop was instantly filled with the aroma of cinnamon, clove, and orange peel. Rose couldn’t help her soft sigh of satisfaction, and James rocked back on his heels after she took the cup from him.

Rose brought the cup to her nose and sniffed. “Oh, that smells gorgeous,” she murmured. “What is it?”

“Hot apple juice, with spices. Basically mulled apple juice instead of mulled wine.” He shook his head quickly when she started to take a sip. “Let it cool for a minute, Rose. It’s hotter than most things.”

Rose nodded and took the cup with her to her table. She glanced back at James, working at the espresso machine on his own beverage. This is it, she told herself, her heart pounding when she put his card on the table in front of the empty chair.

When James joined her a moment later, his steps slowed when he caught sight of the card. “What’s this?” He set his coffee down and picked it up as he sat down.

“Just…” Rose licked her dry lips. “Just open it.”

His finger slid under the envelope flap, but his gaze didn’t leave her face, and Rose knew he could tell how nervous she was. His forehead was wrinkled in confusion, and she had to knot her hands together to keep from opening the card for him to get it over with.

Finally, he pulled the card out of the envelope. His giggle when he saw the picture of Santa falling into an open fire eased some of Rose’s nerves, and she laughed along with him when he read the inside greeting.

Then he picked up the two pieces of heavy card stock that she’d put inside the card, and she couldn’t breathe again.

“An Evening in the Stars,” he read aloud. “Rose, these are tickets for the planetarium show next month.”

She nodded.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at her. “It’s been sold out for months!”

Rose knew that perfectly well. She’d heard James talk up the show, then she’d heard all about his disappointment when he was sick the week tickets went on sale and he missed getting them.

“Well… You remember that week?”

“Only in bits and pieces,” he said drily.

“When I realised you were going to miss getting tickets, I ordered for you. I’ve had these since September, just waiting to give to you.”

James’ eyes widened. “But… you…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then looked at the tickets. “There are two here.”

Rose’s palms were sweaty, and she wiped them off on her trousers. “Yeah. Well… I thought we could go together? I love listening to you talk about the stars. And if I could see this with you… that would be fantastic.”

James didn’t say anything, and Rose almost lost her nerve. But she’d promised herself she would at least tell him how she felt, even if he didn’t feel the same way. She couldn’t handle not knowing, wondering if she were reading too much into his actions, wondering if he could possibly return her feelings or if he just saw her as a friend.

So after a steadying breath, she looked him in the eye. “I thought it could be a date, if you like.” James’ eyes widened, and Rose forced herself to continue on with the speech she’d rehearsed. “You’ve been my best friend for two years, James, ever since the first time I came into the shop on my way home from class. But… the thing is, I’ve been falling for you almost as long, and I keep wondering what it would be like if we were more than friends.” She shrugged, then gestured at the tickets. “So I thought I’d ask.”

Silence stretched between them, leaving Rose’s confession hanging in the air. Rose thought his fingers tightened around the tickets, but that was the only outward sign that he’d heard her at all.

“James!”

Donna’s strident tone interrupted the moment. James’ head snapped around to the door between the kitchen and the front part of the shop. Then he looked back at Rose, and at the tickets in his hand.

“That’s…” He pushed his chair back. “I should…” He gestured to the door. “You know Donna.”

Then he whirled around and nearly ran from the room.

Rose stood frozen, staring at the open door between the backroom and the front of the coffee shop. Of all the possible reactions, she’d never imagined he would just run out of the room without even acknowledging that she’d just told him she had feelings for him.

She’d thought… two years of flirting, of teasing each other, of movie nights and long rambles through the park, of progressively longer hugs every time they said goodbye… Even though she’d been nervous, she hadn’t really thought he would reject her.

Guess I got him wrong.

Tears clogged Rose’s throat, but she swallowed them back. She’d already humiliated herself enough for one day—she could wait to cry until she got back to her flat.

She left her holiday drink sitting on the table and wrapped her arms around herself as she strode to the door. She was almost gone when Donna’s voice stopped her from walking out.

“You wrote an ode to her eyes!”

Rose couldn’t make out what James muttered in reply, but his voice went high-pitched and squeaky like it did when he was embarrassed. She turned away from the door and slowly inched back to her table.

James had written an ode to her eyes? A poem about her? Maybe Donna meant he’d written a poem for someone else, but given the immediate context, it certainly seemed likely that it had been for her.

She sat back down and waited for James to come back. Maybe she hadn’t gotten him wrong, after all.

oOoOo

James shuffled into the back room, his heart racing. Rose had asked him out? On a date? And she said she was falling for him? That was… He shook his head, hoping that would make it seem more real.

“Oh, what’s this then?” Donna asked, gesturing to the tickets he still had clutched in his hands.

He stared at them, then looked up at her. “Present. Gift. From Rose.”

Donna’s eyes lit up and a smirk curved the corners of her mouth. “From Rose, really? Well, maybe you have a chance with her after all. If you ever get around to asking her out, that is.”

James raked his trembling hands through his hair. “She already asked me out,” he said, and speaking the words out loud didn’t make it seem any more real. “That’s… the present, it’s tickets to this exhibition at the planetarium in January. I was telling her about it and she went and got tickets.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “Well, she seems to know what you like, at least.”

James shuffled his feet. Rose did know him, and it terrified him. No one had known him this well since his parents had died when he was just fifteen. Being alone was lonely, but it also meant no one had the power to hurt him.

He looked at the tickets, then towards the shop. Rose could hurt him, if he let her get any closer. The temptation to run was strong, but the pull towards her was even stronger.

“What on Earth is going on in that brain of yours now?” Donna’s voice pulled James out of his own thoughts.

He tapped the tickets against his fingers. “So… you think I ought to say yes, then?”

The back room fell deathly silent. Even the dishwasher chose that moment to stop at the end of a cycle.

“You. Have. Got. To be kidding me!!” Donna crossed the room and smacked him on the back side of the head.

James rubbed the sore spot and pouted up at her. “What was that for?”

“You have had a crush on her from the moment you laid eyes on her, and now that she’s taken enough leave of her senses to ask you out, you wonder if you should say yes?”

James scuffed his toe against the floor. “I do not have a crush on her!” he mumbled. He was head over heels in love with Rose Tyler—far more than a simple crush.

Donna crossed her arms over her chest and looked at James. “You wrote an ode to her eyes!” she shouted, and James’ gaze darted to the door. “‘They’re the colour of whiskey, and when I look into them I’m intoxicated.’ It doesn’t even rhyme, Space Boy.”

James’ fear that Rose would hear was momentarily forgotten, overridden by his wounded pride. He threw his hands up in the air. “It’s called blank verse! It’s an art!”

“Well speaking of art, there’s an artist waiting out there for you to accept her date—if she hasn’t decided you’re too much of an idiot and she doesn’t want to date you after all.”

James’ heart stopped. He hadn’t considered that Rose might not take his sudden departure well… that might actually feel like he was avoiding her after she’d taken the risk to ask him out.

He spun around and looked at the door, and a moment later, he felt hands on his back pushing him gently through it. “Go on, James,” Donna said, her voice soft now. “I promise you, it will be worth it.”

James stumbled over his own feet as he reentered the main part of the shop. His heart started working again when he saw Rose, still sitting at their table. She was facing the door, and he took a moment to grab her favourite chocolate muffin and put it on a plate before he swallowed hard and crossed the room to join her.

“I’m back,” he told her as he took his seat. “And I brought you something to apologise for running off on you just then.”

Rose turned around and smiled at him. “It’s all right, James. Donna asked for you.”

He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t run away from you because Donna called my name, Rose. That was just… convenient timing.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

James kicked himself. “Oh, bollocks. I’m not saying this right.” He took a deep breath. “You’re not the only one who’s wondered what it would be like if we were more than friends. You’re just the only one brave enough to say anything about it.”

James thought he knew all of Rose Tyler’s smiles, but the shy one crossing her face right now was new. It looked particularly fetching with her pink cheeks, and he wondered if he could make her smile like that every day.

“Yeah?”

He blinked, trying to remember what she was replying to. As soon as he remembered, he reached out carefully for her hand, feeling giddy when she took it willingly. “Definitely,” he said firmly. “You heard Donna, didn’t you?”

Mischief sparkled in her eyes, and James felt positively giddy. “You mean the part about you writing poetry about my eyes?” She laced her fingers firmly with his. “I think I want to hear this blank verse of yours.”

James groaned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Rose shook her head, and now her tongue peeked out from behind her smile. “Oh, I would have asked about it either way,” she assured him. “What exactly did you say about my eyes?”

James looked at Rose, then at their hands, linked together on the table. It looked just as natural as it felt, like they’d been made to hold each other.

He looked back at her face, and one eyebrow was arched over the eyes he loved so much. Oh, blimey. She actually wanted to hear his poem.

“I said…” Rose’s warm brown eyes returned his gaze steadily, and he impulsively skipped over the beginning of the poem to paraphrase the lines that felt most appropriate. “When I look into Rose’s eyes, I see love reflected back. The only question I have is this: am I seeing her heart, or mine?”

Tears trembled on Rose’s eyelashes, and James reached out to wipe them away. “It’s my heart, James,” she whispered. “My heart has always been in my eyes when I looked at you.”

James’ heart raced, but the urge to run had finally faded. Rose loved him. His heart was safe with her. “I love you, Rose Tyler.”

Her smile took his breath away. “I love you, too.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #jabber-who-key #31 days of ficmas #doctorroseprompts #coffee shop au #love confessions #donna noble #in her stellar supporting role as shipper on deck #fic by Nancy

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mirkwoodshewolf · 7 years ago

Text

A baby creature; Newt Scamander x reader

This idea has been going around my head for awhile and now I’ve finally taken the time to write it down. I hope you guys enjoy my second Newt Scamander oneshot and hope it fills your day with nothing but teeth-rotting fluff.

______________________________________________________

It started like any normal day. Newt and I woke up and had breakfast before heading down into his case to care for his creatures. While he was feeding the Occamies, I went over to the Graphorn habitat. I let out an animal cry and soon the male came running up towards me.

“Hello Adam, hey there big guy. How are you?” I stroked the side of his head while his tentacles gently kissed me all over my face. “How’s Eve doing?” Adam and Eve were the last Graphorns in existence and if Newt and I hadn’t found them when we did, that could’ve been the end of them forever.

Now we breed the two of them whenever Eve’s in heat to hopefully rebuild the Graphorn population and right now I had found out a couple weeks ago that she was gonna have her second set of babies.

He gurgled and grunted at me before leading me towards their den where I knew Eve was sitting at getting her rest. As I entered inside the den and saw Eve along with her first two children Isaac and Betty who were playing next to their mother.

“Hey there Eve, how you feeling?” I approached her cautiously and she allowed me to get right up to her and I gently touched her face which made her gurgle out a purr. “Now let’s check you out ole girl huh?” I then began to take her vitals and seeing how her pregnancy was coming along.

I wrote down everything onto my notepad so I could give them to Newt later. Once I was done and had given her the all clear, I suddenly took notice of her leaning towards my stomach and her tentacles gently poked and prodded my stomach which made me giggle softly as I gently pushed her away.

“Alright you silly girl, well you’re healthy and it seems your next little one or little ones will come in a just a few more weeks”. I then gave them all some meat for them when I heard Newt’s voice say.

“You’re so good with them”. I smiled and said.

“Well I did learn from the best”.

“Now, now Mrs. Scamander flattery will get you nowhere”.

“Why Mr. Scamander, you are forward”

“You have no idea”. He brought me into his arms and the two of us kissed passionately as he picked me up bridal style making the two of us laugh and he walked out of the Graphorn desert habitat and brought me over to the hut. “So any new updates on our Eve?”

“Got them all right here for you”. I held out my notepad and he immediately took it and began to read over them before heading inside the hut to jot down the notes in his book. I smiled then I turned towards Frank’s enclosure.

Frank the beautiful Thunderbird came off his perch and landed before the small rock formation right at the edge of his enclosure. I smiled and slowly held out my hand and allowed him to nuzzle his beak into my hand and I soon stroked through his soft, beautiful feathers.

“Hey there Frank. How’s my best boy doing huh?” Frank chirped then suddenly his behavior began to change. He tilted his head side to side as the feathers along his neck ruffled up. At first I thought he was going to start being aggressive but he then nuzzled right into my stomach and placed a protective wing around me chirping and screeching lowly but lovingly.

“Alright love you ready Tina and Queenie are expecting—” When Newt saw Frank with a protective wing around me, he got curious as well. “Umm do you know—?”

“No idea, but umm—do you mind helping me out here?” Newt smiled then he held out a mouse for Frank and when Frank took notice of it, his wing opened up allowing me to escape as Newt tossed it into the air and Frank caught it with his beak before flying back to his perch and ate his breakfast.

“You alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, all he did was just wrap his wing around me. But the feathers around his neck ruffled like how it happens when he starts to show signs of agitation but he didn’t attack me, thought it did give me a bit of a scare”.

“Well I’m here now. Now come on, Queenie will not stop pestering me for us to hurry up and get over there and see the new improvements to Jacob’s bakery”.

“Oh yeah, I was also promised to some new pastries he’s been experimenting on”. I then took his hand and dragged him out of his case and the two of us got around then headed out of our motel and headed over to Queenie and Jacob’s place.

When we were arrived, we were both greeted by Queenie herself. She hugged the two of us before Jacob came in and welcomed us as well as Tina.

“Well long time no see, how have you two been?” asked Tina.

“We’ve been good. How about you Tina?” I asked.

“Well MACUSA has definitely been keeping me busy but nothing I can’t handle”.

“And how about you Newt? Any word on your book?” asked Jacob.

“Well I’ve just received word from our old school Hogwarts and the Headmaster has agreed to have the book become a required material for the Caring for Magical Creatures class”. Queenie, Tina and Jacob cheered and all hugged Newt in congratulations then Queenie said.

“Oh this calls for a celebration, (y/n) you mind coming into the kitchen and help me out with some of the drinks”. I nodded then the two of us went to the kitchen while Newt, Tina and Jacob went into the living room to talk some more.

As I got out the tea kettle I soon took notice of a female collie sitting at the corner of the kitchen with a male collie sitting right beside her.

“Aww, who are these two cuties?”

“Oh those are our Border collie dogs, the black male is Shadow and the female’s name is Lola, Lola is actually expecting puppies pretty soon”.

“Really? How far is she?”

“Uhh—eight weeks. She’s due anytime next week”.

“Aww I know that feeling, our Graphorns Adam and Eve are pregnant with their second litter. Seems both our creatures will be expecting this lovely spring season”.

“Indeed”. As Queenie and I prepared the tea as well as some apple pie, as I was cutting some apples the muggle way, Queenie was sitting on the chair across from me and she said as she stared at her two Border collies, “it’s unmistakable isn’t it sweetie?” I looked up at her before turning to her dogs and Queenie continues so poetically, “Even though she’s a dog, she has that look that every woman gets when she knows she’s gonna be a mother. Notice how tranquil she is. Her eyes are soft and warm. Though you might not see it, you can certainly feel that she’s smiling. It’s the smile we wear, when we’re guarding a precious secret. And now that she’s living for others as well as herself, she’s eating more. And every now and again, for no reason other than she’s so happy with herself, she sighs”.

I sighed deeply as I admired Lola before as I ate a piece of an apple. She then stood up from her blanket filled basket and walked right up to me like she’s known me her whole life and just sat there happily. I stroked her head and said.

“Your right Queenie, Eve’s been looking the same way. They’re both practically glowing”. Queenie looked at me in brief shock before a wide smile came across her face before letting out a soft giggle. “What is it Queenie?” I saw her look to her dog Lola and the female collie nodded then Queenie turned to me and said.

“(Y/n) sweetie, you and Newt are going to have a little creature of your own”.

What?

My mouth gaped open before my eyes rolled in the back of my head and I fainted. When I came around, I noticed I was on Queenie’s couch with Newt sitting right over me dabbing a rag across my face.

“What happened?”

“Queenie told me you fainted in the kitchen, what’s wrong are you okay?” I then thought back to what Queenie said and she looked at me with a smile telling me in my mind to tell Newt what she had just told me.

“Umm Newt, can we talk?”

“Yes of course darling, you can always talk to me about anything”. I slowly sat up as Newt kept mothering me to sit up slowly. Once I was fully up, I took Newt’s hand and said.

“Newt, turns out Adam and Eve aren’t going to be the only ones having a litter”.

“I know, Jacob had told me about his two new dogs and they’re about to have a litter of puppies”.

“I know I met them, but they’re not the only ones having a litter Newt,” I then took his hand and placed it on my stomach and Newt began to process what I was hinting at.

“R-re-really? You’re sure?”

“Queenie just told me, and that would explain why our creatures were acting the way they did this morning, even Lola came up to me and laid her head right down on my lap even after just seeing me for the first time”. Newt’s smile went all the way up to his eyes as he cheered and embraced me as well as lifting me up and twirling me around, the two of us laughing out merrily.

We were going to have a baby.

*FF nine months later*

I was lying on my hospital bed and after nine hours n labor, we welcomed Iris Alexandra Scamander to the world. Newt sat by my side and he whispered.

“How did we ever make something so beautiful?”

“I have no idea Newt, but I love her too much”.

“I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, I will be a better man for her sake”. Her tiny fist had taken Newt’s index finger.

“And for me?” I asked as I turned to him.

“I’m already a better man because of you”. We both smiled at each other as Newt kissed my forehead and the two of us laid there in silence enjoying this new family moment.

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander fluff #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft fandom

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