#loving doing these strange color schemes like he’s green he’s been put back together with gold no this does not have anything to do w cfv

[starburstsobsessions]

The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

So I picked option 2 cause I just had more ideas around it. I could probably still do 1 and 3 sometime but this is the direction we're going now. Y/n gets a call from her horrible grandmother who is expecting a visit.

Trigger warning: discussions of emotional and mental abuse, gaslighting

That night at his dining table was the start of something wonderful. You made a point to apply a bit of perfume to your neck before you left your apartment. Your three slightly judgmental but overall supportive roommates even donated a few drops of their own fragrances from time to time. 

You didn’t like the sound of the sentence “Hannibal is my boyfriend”. It just didn’t hit your ear right. ‘Boyfriend’ was too childish of a title for him. By extension, he found something very diminutive about referring to you as his girlfriend. You were, of course, a grown woman. He remedied this right away, resigning to call you his ‘darling’. You, however, had to use ‘partner’ as a placeholder until a more suitable pet name presented itself. Although the titles were never stated outright, after a while, you knew it was more than just a passionate affair. Hannibal (and you were calling him Hannibal, now) saw potential in you. He nurtured you and had been since day one. 

Finally, things were starting to go your way. You were in classes you loved, had wonderful, supportive friends and a fulfilling relationship. It took over twenty years, but better late than never. 

But, if there was one thing you learned from your short stint as a student of physics, it was that what goes up must come down. Your long-awaited bliss was about to be tested by an equal and opposite force bearing the name “Beatrice [L/N]” on the caller ID. 

Not only did she call, but she called three times in the middle of your meal. And that was followed by multiple texts, several of which containing words like “emergency” in all caps. You were just trying to enjoy another one of Hannibal’s culinary works of art, but the old bitch was persistent. 

You apologetically excused yourself from the table and retreated to the office with your phone. 

Grandma, you had better be on your fucking deathbed. You thought to yourself before sliding the green answer icon across the screen.

“[F/N]!” Came her shrill voice. “You finally answered. I was beginning to worry.” 

“What do you want, grandma?” You groan. 

“I wanted to ask you what you were wearing to Anna’s wedding next weekend.” She explained, calmly as ever. “The color scheme is seafoam and coral and she wants to make sure everyone adheres to it for pictures.” 

You covered the speaker with your hand and pulled your phone away from your ear so she couldn’t hear you bite back a scream. It physically pained you to return the phone to your ear. “Yeah, I RSVPed no to Anna’s wedding.”

“[F/N],” Your grandmother said in that scolding tone you knew all too well. “Your cousin expects you to be there. I expect you to be there. I invested so much money into this wedding, I will take it as a personal affront if you don’t attend.” 

You take everything as a personal affront. You thought.  

“It doesn’t matter, I already said no. She’s not going to have a chair or food for me.” You explained, hoping that you found some way out of this conversation. 

“No, she will.” Your grandma corrected. “I won’t have any child of mine absent from another’s wedding. I put in all the work to pull this event together.” 

For a moment, you almost felt bad for Anna. Having to endure your grandmother’s micromanaging was a circle of hell even Dante refused to tread.

"Of course, heaven forbid someone in your life show an ounce of autonomy." You finally snapped.

"I don't know why you're acting so rude, but it stops now." Grandma ordered. "I raised you as my own daughter. You should be more grateful for the luxuries I can extend to you. I didn't have to take you in, you know..."

It pained you to stay quiet when all you wanted to say was "I wish you hadn't".

"Your emotional manipulation isn't going to work on me anymore." You informed her.

“So, naturally, I’ve seen to it that you are expected." She continued her own conversation without even acknowledging yours. "You and a plus one, of course.”

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of attending the wedding with Hannibal. The two points never once intersected. And they never would. You vowed that Hannibal would never meet your grandmother or cousins. At that moment, that was the hill you were willing to die on. 

“If I come at all, I’m coming alone.” You snap. “You can punish me all you want but I am not letting you get him involved.” 

“Him?” Your grandma repeated. “So there is someone?” 

“Someone you are keeping me from.” You said, thoroughly frustrated and now panicked at the idea that your grandmother knew Hannibal existed. “Goodbye.” 

You didn't want to rejoin Hannibal in such a sour mood, but you didn't want to keep him waiting either. You returned even more apologetically than you left and took your seat.

"Everything alright, love?" He asked. You could tell he was raring to psychoanalyze you.

You shook your head. "It was my grandma."

"I could tell that much." He admitted, beginning to cut into his steak. "What with all the frustration you're trying so desperately to hide. What did she want?"

"She called to tell me she expects me at my cousin's wedding next Saturday." You rolled your eyes. "I'd already declined the invitation, but she didn't like that, apparently."

"Which cousin is this?" He probed. "The one that works as an engineer for Halliburton?

"No, that's Theresa." You shook your head. "And she works for Halliburton, but she's not an engineer. She's a PR executive."

"Right." Hannibal nodded, taking a bite of steak between his teeth. "She took after your grandmother and turned gaslighting into a career."

You smiled a bit. "Right."

"So, it's Anna, then?" He concluded. "You haven't told me much about her. Perhaps she is the benign tumor of the family?"

"More or less." You shrugged. "She works at a publishing agency. Only got the job because her boyfriend's uncle's the CFO. She didn't even make it to the interview. It was pure nepotism."

"And now she's marrying the boyfriend, I presume?"

"Yeah." You felt a grin cross your face thinking about what you were going to say next. "She wasn't even dating him at the time. She was dating someone else and cheating on him with the guy she's marrying now."

Hannibal grinned. "You like knowing this? Having information that could potentially ruin her life?"

You knew there was no use in lying. The look on your face said it all. "Absolutely I do. When you're the black sheep of the family, you've gotta take power where you can get it. Mine just so happens to be potential blackmail."

"I'm quite delighted to be privy to this side of you, love." He smiled. "We're a bit vindictive, now are we?"

"Are you kidding?" You snicker. "These are the girls that psychologically tormented me growing up. Of course I'm vindictive."

"So about this wedding." He didn't look up from his plate. "Do they expect you to bring a date?"

"They do." You nod, your eyes wandering off. "But I can't let them meet you. They're just so unspeakably rude all the time."

For some reason, you felt that this didn't deter him. Perhaps it even compelled him a little. "Oh?"

"They take this really strange pride in making scenes everywhere they go." You explained. "They've already ruined so much of my life. I can't even give them the opportunity to ruin this too."

"Darling," Hannibal leaned in. "Is there a part of you that wants to attend this event?"

You held your tongue before you said anything you both know to be untrue. "...maybe a small part."

"That small part of you that wants power. That wants justice." He nodded. "Indulge it for a moment. What does this wedding look like to you?"

Trying to keep up the illusion that you hadn't thought of this before, you paused for a moment. "...we would show up--you and I--and I'd be wearing a stunning gown that doesn't fit the stupid color scheme at all. And there's just an unspoken knowledge that I could absolutely ruin Anna's entire day. Anna and Theresa and Grandma are all being nice to me because if I so much as mention the name of that boyfriend she cheated on, I'd ruin her life and possibly her career. So finally I hold all the cards."

Hannibal looked proud. He took a sip of his wine. "You want to be powerful, but with just enough restraint so they know you're the bigger person."

"Exactly." You agreed.

"Perhaps my fondness for you is clouding my professional judgment, darling." He put his wine glass down. "The thought of you in an evening gown, commanding attention and reverence... that's just something I have to see."

"...something you have to see?" You met eyes with him, realizing you were on the same page.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket again. This time, you didn't feel the need to step out.

"Hey [F/N], care to explain why my sister is crying?" Theresa snapped through the receiver.

"Is someone cutting onions nearby?" You offered. "That usually makes me tear up."

"Fucking hell, for once in your meaningless life can you care about someone other than yourself?!" Theresa yelled. "Grandma told us you're not coming to the wedding."

You looked back at Hannibal, who gave you a nod. "Actually, I am. We are."

[daydream-believin]

Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

 * * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

[sassyhobbits]

....tinder au??🥺 not to rush u ofc! but i’m having a rough time in school right now and an update would really make my week better🤍

you sent this ask at just the right time! i just finished it up! sorry for the lack of writing. school is also giving me a rough time rn as well! but!!! we will persevere!!!

also im a little buzzed so i hope this is coherent

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3

~~~

Rowan didn’t really enjoy dressing up, could go his entire life without attending another large, social gathering. And yet… he had let Aelin convince him to take her to a wedding.

He had forced himself into his nicest suit because Aelin told him to. He sensed that this was something he didn’t want to argue with her about, so he did it with minimal complaint. He figured that it wouldn’t be that bad in the grand scheme of things, and the open bar was certainly a perk.

Not to mention, Aedion would be there well. In fact, Rowan was on his way to his coworkers apartment where he would meet up with the rest of them before heading to the wedding. Apparently, Aedion got roped in as well. His and Aelin’s family were old friends with the groom’s family.

Rowan checked his watch as he climbed the stairs, ensuring he wasn’t late lest he give Aelin a reason to be cross with him. It seemed he was making good time.

Rowan knocked politely, the door swinging open quickly and revealing a surprisingly well-dressed Aedion, who was nursing a bottle of beer.

“Hey man,” he said, clasping forearms with Rowan. “How’re you doing? You want a beer?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Rowan stepped into the apartment, lingering in the living room as Aedion slipped into the kitchen. The room was decorated simply, but it was clean. His eyes caught on a few old photographs, picturing what must have been a young Aedion and Aelin together, smiling smiles too large for their little faces.

Aedion reappeared, handing him the beer.

“I can’t believe Aelin conned you into this,” Aedion commented, leaning against the back of the couch. “But, I gotta say, I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Is the company there gonna be that bad?”

“Yes. But I also know Aelin’s doing this to piss off her ex. And I was never a big fan of him. I think it’s going to be funny.” Aedion finished off his beer, glancing at the clock mounted on the wall with a sigh. “Those girls are gonna make us late. Lys! Are you nearly done?”

“You can’t rush perfection!” Lysandra’s voice called from upstairs.  

Aedion shook his head fondly with a playful chuckle, clearly used to waiting on the girls.

They chatted casually until Rowan was finished with his beer. It was then that a door opened from upstairs, followed by feminine laughter and the clicking of heels.

Lysandra descended first, looking perfectly elegant in an emerald slip dress that brought out the green in her eyes. She tossed her raven hair over her shoulder as she caught Aedion’s eye, sending him a bright and loving smile.

Rowan barely heard the two of them complimenting one another, all thoughts flying from his head at the sight of the woman walking down the stairs.

Aelin looked stunning, though Rowan knew stunning wasn’t really strong enough of a word to describe her in this instance.

She wore a golden silk dress that hit just above the knee. The conservativeness of the length was offset by the way it hugged each and every curve, as if it had been sewn on to her body specifically. Thin straps held it over her shoulders, leaving her toned arms bare. Aelin’s hair had been straightened and left hanging freely in a gleaming sheet down her back. It was then that Rowan realized how rarely he got to see her with her hair down. When Aelin was working or working out, it was always tossed up in a bun or a ponytail. It suited her. She wore a necklace, and it wasn’t until she got closer that Rowan was able to see that the pendant was a golden sword. It was strangely fitting.

She was slipping something into her clutch, barely even noticing Rowan until she nearly walked through him. Her eyes snapped up, the stunning turquoise color brought out by her eyeshadow look. Her gaze traveled from his feet to the top of his head, assessing and nothing more.

“You clean up better than I expected,” Aelin said simply.

Rowan wished he had something witty up his sleeve, but seeing Aelin in that dress had left his mind in shambles. He was only able to grind out a curt, “Thanks.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, leaving Rowan to wonder what was going through her head. Before he had much more time to ponder it, she swept away, grabbing a jacket by the door.

“So, is everyone ready?” she asked.

“In case you didn’t notice,” Aedion drawled. “We were all waiting for you two.”

Aelin ignored the tiny quip, smoothing down the sides of her dress. “Well then, let's get going. We have a wedding to attend.”

…

The ride to the venue was uneventful. Aelin sat in the back besides Rowan while Aedion drove them all. The car was filled with friendly chatter back and forth, pop music droning on in the background.

Aelin tried to stop herself from sending sly glances towards Rowan. He looked good tonight. Really good. Rowan was hot on a day to day basis, something that not even his drab PT uniform could hide. But tonight, all cleaned up and dressed in something nice, Rowan was unfairly handsome.

Her only solace was knowing that he was checking her out too. Aelin knew she looked amazing tonight. Part of it was for herself, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that part of it was to gain Rowan’s attention. She had been successful in that endeavor.

Aelin wasn’t stupid. She knew Rowan found her attractive just as Rowan knew she found him attractive. They had been ready to go out and probably bang until they realized that they were coworkers. Aelin had agreed to keep it professional, but she would be lying if she said that she didn’t want something more with him.

Soon enough, Aedion was parking the car outside the venue. They filed out, Aelin smoothing and straightening her dress, a sort of heaviness in her gut as she looked towards where the ceremony would be held. Although she was excited to see Dorian, and happy that he had found love, she was less than excited about seeing Chaol again.

The scent of pine and snow surrounded her just as Rowan came up to her side.

“You ready?” Aelin asked him, to which he gave a stiff nod. “Good. Don’t embarrass me.”

Rowan scowled, but held out his arm for her regardless. Aelin took it, stepping close to his side, trying to ignore how nice the warmth of his body felt against her own.

It was time to get this over with.

…

The ceremony was simple yet beautiful. Any idiot could see how in love Dorian and Sorscha were with one another. Aelin had only met the bride on a few occasions, but she liked her. Sorscha looked stunning in a flowy gown that made her brown skin glow.

Aelin pointedly ignored Chaol even though he stood right by Dorian the entire time. Instead, she looked at the maid of honor, Yrene, who her ex was now dating. Through talking to Dorian, Aelin had learned that Chaol and Yrene had met through Sorscha. Apparently, the two women worked at the same hospital and were close friends.

Yrene was a beautiful woman with kind eyes. Aelin knew in her gut that she would like her once they got to talking. Perhaps they would find time to chat through the night.

The ceremony ended with a sweet kiss and the happy couple going off to take some photographs. For the guests, it was time to cocktail.

Rowan, at least, was playing the part of a boyfriend well. Without complaint, surprisingly. He held her hand as they went towards where cocktail hour was being held, a steady presence. He even chatted with her, asking her questions about how she knew Dorian. When she whispered snide comments about other guests, he even laughed a few times. It was… nice, she supposed. She was having a good time with him.

Lysandra and Aedion were swept up by Dorian’s parents, leaving Aelin and Rowan by themselves.

The more they drank, the more comfortable they became. It was easier to laugh, easier to forget why they had put distance between them to begin with. They had been pretty good at avoiding conversation with others to begin with, but Aelin knew it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with someone.

“So what do we say if someone asks how we met?” Rowan asked as they grabbed another drink from the bar.

“We tell them the truth,” Aelin deadpanned. “Sexting on tinder.”

Rowan choked on his whiskey. “We cannot say that.”

“Fine. We can be boring and say we met at work.”

Rowan laughed, and Aelin realized how much she loved the sound. She liked how it softened his normally stony face, made him appear younger, lighter. She could get used to seeing him like this.

They turned from the bar, taking a few steps into the crowd, only to come face to face with the reason Aelin had dragged Rowan along to begin with.

“Aelin,” Chaol Westfall greeted, offering a shaking and awkward smile. “Hi.”

The smile that had been painted on Aelin’s face faltered slightly. She had been enjoying her time with Rowan so much she had forgotten why she had wanted him by her side to begin with.

“Chaol,” Aelin said, smiling tightly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Yrene was on his arm, looking stunning in a deep purple dress, curly hair loose and voluminous. Her honey eyes were bright and kind as she smiled at Aelin.

“You too,” Chaol said, before motioning towards the woman beside him. “This is Yrene. My girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yrene greeted, reaching out and shaking her hand. “I love your dress.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ve been looking at your shoes all night.” Aelin put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, pressing herself to his side. “This is Rowan.”

Aelin watched carefully as they all shook hands and greeted one another, carefully studying facial expressions and body language. She had wondered if this would be awkward and tense but… it was normal.

Aelin and Chaol had ended on terrible terms, treating one another like actual shit. She remembered the insults thrown, the glares when they happened to be in the same room. But maybe… maybe they had gotten better. Maybe some time and distance had eased away the worst of the anger and toxicity. She didn’t look at Chaol and feel bad anymore she felt… nothing.

But she could tell that Chaol had Yrene and he cared very much about her.

And Aelin had…

Well, she didn’t really have anyone but…

She looked to Rowan, and for once didn’t try to avoid the longing that swelled in her chest. She wished she had him.

…

Aelin sat down at her table, sipping at a glass of champagne and watching the people on the dancefloor sway slowly to the soft music playing.

The rest of the evening had gone by smoothly. Aelin enjoyed the time she spent with her friends, getting to see Dorian again even though she couldn’t steal much of his time. All and all, it had been fun.

The night was winding down, people filtering out slowly, but there were still those who lingered for a few more dances. Dorian danced with his new wife, both looking at one another with so much love Aelin could feel it from where she sat. Lysandra smiled and laughed and Aedion twirled her around. Chaol held Yrene to his chest as they swayed slowly, lost in their own world.

Aelin sighed and rested her chin on her palm, watching them all move.

There was the sound of footfalls coming her way, stealing her attention from the dance floor. She looked up and found Rowan standing before her, looking to where her gaze was just focused but glancing back at her with a raised brow.

“Do you want to dance?”

Aelin blinked in surprise, sure she had heard him incorrectly. Rowan didn’t seem like the type of man who enjoyed dancing but… the offer hung there.

“You don’t have to,” Aelin said softly. “You did your part.”

“I can tell you want to dance. So, let’s dance. It’s almost time to go anyway.”

Aelin hesitated a beat, studying Rowan’s expression carefully. She didn’t want him to do anything he was uncomfortable with, yet his face showed nothing but sincerity. Rowan held out a hand towards her, brow raised as if to say Well? Are you coming?

A hesitant smile found its way onto Aelin’s face, but she accepted his hand, letting him guide her to her feet. Rowan led her to the center of the dance floor, placing a polite hand on her hip, the other clutching her own. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Aelin could have sworn time stopped. Maybe she had imagined it, but she was almost sure she saw a flash of the same longing she felt in his eyes.

They began to sway slowly to the music. It was a little awkward at first, but as time passed and the notes rang out, the tension lessened. They moved closer and closer to one another, until to a stranger they might have actually appeared to be a regular couple. It felt more natural than Aelin expected it to.

As the songs played, they kept sending one another shy smiles. Aelin wasn’t sure at what point she rested her head against Rowan’s chest as they danced, but she never wanted that moment to end.

It was a shame that the reception was inching to a close, that the night of being close to Rowan would end. It was a shame that, come the morning, they would go back to being strangers once more.

But, for tonight, Aelin was content to pretend.

[babiemingoo]

lollipop boy || jeon wonwoo

summary: greaser!wonwoo is only kind of your friend when he comes up with a stupid (but brilliant) plan to piss off your ex boyfriend and test just what person you claim to have become

genre: greaser!wonwoo, suggestive? || wc: 2.6k

a/n: this is actually a snippet of my next series I have planned, so I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This was awkward.

As you sat there, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in an attempt of a distraction from the tension, you couldn’t escape how awkward of a situation you were in. When your friend Sien had texted that she was running late but someone should already be there waiting, you had hoped with every cell of your being that the someone wasn’t Wonwoo. But when you opened the front door of the diner nestled in the middle of your hometown, the only member of your newfound “friend group” that had arrived on time was, of course, Wonwoo. 

The diner was classic, with a neon sign hanging above the milkshake bar and a worn down jukebox near the corner window looking like it had survived every teenager in your town since the 1940s. The color scheme of red, white and gray made the boy wrapped in a shiny black leather jacket look even more so out of place than he already was. He never seemed to care, though, always sat in the exact same spot on a Wednesday afternoon, flipping through his auto vehicle magazine with a lollipop between his lips while his friends bustled about excitedly. Except, his friends were late, and now it was just the two of you together despite the fact that you had spoken more less 20 words to him since you met.

If silently sitting across the said boy wasn’t awkward enough, the diner was pretty dead for a Wednesday when most people your age tended to trickle in - except for, with your luck, your ex boyfriend. Him and your old friend group were huddled about in the opposite end of the diner, next to the jukebox that you knew they liked to hang around to play their favorite 70s songs while they loitered. None of them seemed to have noticed your arrival apart from the boy that you used to spend every Wednesday holding hands with. Now you two side glance at each other, looking away in the split millisecond when your eyes meet and pretend like it didn’t happen. You repeat the action probably five times before a deep voice pulls you out of the routine, “So much for hating his guts, huh?”

Wonwoo’s still skimming his eyes through the words printed next to a picture of a motorcycle in the magazine, but you know he was the one that had just spoken to you. “What are you talking about?” You question him, feigning ignorance. His deep chuckle cuts through the air as you observe the candy he has wrapped in his fingers, just an inch away from his mouth so he’s able to voice out his thoughts. One thing you had noticed about Wonwoo was that he always had a lollipop with him. Sometimes it was green, or purple, or even blue; but today it was his classic red shade. His usual soda was always red, all the candy he bought at the liquor store was red, and the chapstick that he would pull out every now and then was that of the same color and flavor; the one you have realized to be his favorite. Cherry.

“You tell everyone how much you hate him for what he did to you, but you keep making love eyes at him,” The boy across from you states in a tone that you’re sure is dripping with arrogance. “Not surprised though. I told Sien that you would run back to rich boy the first chance you got.”

You scoff at the audacity he had. The two of you may have been in the same friend group, and you’ve come to have a soft spot for a few of them - like Sien and Jun - but Wonwoo speaks as if he has a right to judge you or any of your past. Wonwoo was the only one out of the group of greasers that you felt hadn’t really taken to you and you’re certain it’s because of your old friends and boyfriend that he hated so much. Every part of you itched to prove him wrong about every assumption he had made about your life. “I’m not going to run back to him!” You say to him with determination, in a low voice. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, Wonwoo closes the magazine. He quickly folds the corner of the page he was on to not lose his spot, shuts it, and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth again before saying, “Everytime we meet up at a spot and he’s around, you both make puppy eyes at each other like you’ll run into each other’s arms in a flower field and sing love songs. Even I can’t ignore it and I make it a point to half ignore everyone. Just admit you want to make your boy toy miss you, get your job done and go back to your perfect little life. Don’t drag my friends into this.” The way his voice comes out is laced with venom and you feel it. You always had a hunch that Wonwoo held dislike for you rather than indifference, but this is the first you’re hearing of his theory that you’re just using your new friend group to prove something to your ex. 

“I’m sorry if the guy I was with for three years and had to break up with a few weeks ago still holds a little part of my heart,” You retort with sass. “But I’m not going to go back to him. What he did was so completely fucked up and even if I’ve been with him for that long I have more self worth, I know that I deserve more-”

Ding.

It was a bad habit of yours to leave your ringer on. A habit that had got you written up in class more times than you can count, one that got you caught during friend gatherings when you and Seungkwan were trying to sneakily talk behind the other boys’ backs. And now, it was a habit that had you caught up with Wonwoo. The brightness of your phone screen was almost mocking in the way that it illuminated the notification you had just gotten from your ex boyfriend standing across the room, letters sewed together in a text that said, ‘hey can we talk?’

You catch the text message in the corner of your eye and Wonwoo does, too. He laughs; a deep chuckle of satisfaction that matches his tone when he says, “Preppy boy is calling. Shouldn’t you go kiss and make up?”

It’s silent for a beat. Wonwoo is infuriating in the way that he’s never gone easy on you, even the first day you had met, Sien bringing you to their table with tears streaming down your face and his first sentence to you had been a tease. He’s infuriating in the way now that he’s fully expecting you to turn around and head in your ex’s direction to talk. He’s infuriating in the way that you consider actually doing it.

“Well?” He questions, head nodding towards the man who used to occupy all your time and all your thoughts. Instinctively you turn around and make eye contact with him for the sixth time that day and his eyes are pleading, waiting. Waiting. Just like you had been sitting, waiting for him all those days and weeks while he had been running around, betraying you, lying to you- 

“Aren’t you going to go talk to your lover boy?”

“No.”

The answer leaves your lips before he can even finish his question. Truthfully you were hoping Wonwoo would look impressed, or a little surprised in the least. He doesn’t. All he offers you is a smug grin as his tongue peaks out of lips, lapping at the red lollipop a few times before he speaks, “Bullshit.”

You want to counter his cockiness but he beats you to it, adding, “Don’t string it on, sweetheart. The others will get here and then you’ll have to explain just how weak you are for your ex in front of all of them. I won’t say anything to them; you can do that yourself later. Just go back to your preppies where you’d rather be.”

Sweetheart? Weak? Where you’d rather be? Gosh, the nerve Wonwoo always had with you. You roll your eyes before crossing your arms at him, vision narrowing, “I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to him. He fucked me over and now we’re done.”

“Really?” He questions with his eyebrows raised, but you know he’s mocking you. The boy wants to test you because he still thinks he knows you and that all his assumptions of you are right.

You want to prove him wrong. “Yup! I hate him and I don’t want anything to do with him. If I could make him see that him and I are completely done, I would.” The tone of your voice made every word come out with conviction. You wanted to make it a point that you think - no - you knew that you were done with your ex. Whatever the two of you had was completely finished after how he had mistreated you and your heart, and you needed to show that to Wonwoo. You need to show that to yourself. You wanted to prove him and everyone else who doubted you, wrong.

Ding.

Another notification. Another text message. Another attempt of your ex trying to crawl back into your life, your heart, the letters on your phone screen now fitting together to create your name in question. From the corner of your eye you can see his gaze; no longer pleading but begging. He wants to talk. The deepest, darkest depths of your heart will you to get up and listen. Your brain says to stay put. Another chuckle from Wonwoo.

“You sure you’re done with him?”

With gritted teeth, you harshly grab your phone and flip it upside down so the screen can’t mock you anymore. “I’m sure.”

Wonwoo finally looks just the slightest impressed by your reaction. But not convinced - not at all. Strangely, he gets up, says nothing as he walks around the table and sits next to you before facing you with a glint in his eye. His lollipop is wrapped around his mouth until he pulls it out again to say, “Prove it.”

This day is a bunch of firsts. The first time you’ve had a conversation with Wonwoo (albeit a negative one, but still), the first time you’ve gotten heated since you found out what your ex had done, and the first time you’ve ever seen Wonwoo so up close. Your eyes follow the creases of his lips, across his laugh lines which are - surprisingly - fairly prominent, past his nose and cheekbones and to his eyes, small but fierce and shaped in a way that has you wondering if you would’ve enjoyed looking at them under different circumstances. You try not to get yourself too caught up in the intricacies of his features and distract yourself by countering, “Prove what?”

“Put your money where your mouth is. You said that if you were able to make him see that you two were done, you’d do it. You said you don’t want to go back to him, then prove it.” The leather of his jacket squeaks a little when he shrugs.

“Wha- How am I supposed to-”

“Kiss me,” His tone is so casual in the way he says it, like every other word that he’s ever targeted at you hasn’t been spoken with condescending undertones and haughty implications. You want to keep your sassy facade but you begin to gape at him like a fish out of water, gasping for some sort of clarity on the situation. There is no way he could be seriously asking this of you when the two of you had barely established a frenemies relationship. In fact, it was more of the enemies than it is friends.

He smirks at the way you’re caught off guard (because he’s a little shit) and repeats himself while scooting closer, “You don’t have to, but as a guy I’ll tell you - if I saw the girl who used to be my everything kissing another guy after I had texted her asking to talk to her? I think I’d get the hint.”

You can’t help the way the cogs in your head turn together to make sense of what he says, even if it’s a bit out of left field. Technically, you did say that you would show your ex he no longer had a chance with you, if you were able to do so. You wonder if doing such a thing like kissing Wonwoo would give the boy across the room a big old fuck you like he deserved. Your gaze travels to the said boy, who’s eyes have changed to hold something of confusion and wonder. Was he confused at why Wonwoo had come to sit next to you? In an attempt to support or debunk your hypothesis, you scoot closer to Wonwoo, your hand finding it’s way against his jean clad knee where the frayed rips let you two meet skin to skin. 

The emotions behind your ex’s eyes shift. They’re shocked now; angry. Hurt. Those were the same feelings you felt all those weeks ago when the world came crashing down at your shoulders and your relationship went with it.

You take your attention and put it back on Wonwoo, who’s breath you can feel against your face with how impossibly close you two have gotten. He’s smirking again. Similar to moments ago when your eyes scanned over his face, his gaze begins to do the same to you; memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and the tip of your nose. 

The boy lets out a breath when his eyes find their way up, meeting yours. Hand on your waist. Head tilting, “Kiss me,” He repeats.

You lean forward. Your lips touch. He might have just meant a peck, just to get your ex riled up. But the way your lips fit together implied so, so much more than a peck. They move together, slotting against each other in a way that would’ve convinced anyone in the room that you two have been captivated by each other with adoration and nothing but. The thought of how mad your ex probably is begins to get buried in the back of your mind when you start to focus on him, Wonwoo, and the way that he feels. The way his right hand pulls you just the slightest bit closer even if there’s no more room. The way his left hand reaches behind your neck to cradle you in place like he wants the two of you to keep kissing for hours.

All thoughts of everything else that had been going on in your life begins to dissipate in your head as you get caught up in him. In this moment you only think one thing: Wonwoo. Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. Wonwoo in his leather jacket, Wonwoo on his motorcycle, Wonwoo holding his magazine, Wonwoo looking at you, Wonwoo holding you- It’s funny, because earlier today you were dreading Wonwoo. Now it seems like your subconscious craves him, head leaning forward as if he was going anywhere. You want to remember this; even if the future version of yourself is going to pretend like you didn’t enjoy it. So your tunnel vision goes completely there to his lips, his kiss. You make sure to note the way he tastes just so you can brand him and this kiss with it for the rest of your life. You’ll make sure to associate this taste with him forever so that every time you have another lick of it you’re reminded of this day that Jeon Wonwoo stole your breath straight out of your mouth. You memorize what your taste buds feel when you kiss him. Cherry.

[shreddedparchment]

Spoopy! Spoopy! Spoopy!

OTP Challenge 10/01/2020

Pairing: daddy!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 1,273

Warnings: fluff, lots of fluff, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: This is for @thefanficfaerie​ ‘s OTP Spooktacular Halloween Challenge. I’m gonna have so much fun coming back to this couple. They’re one of my favorites and I know some of you have asked for more of their day to day stuff so that’s what this will hopefully be. I’m going to seriously try and do this every day. Like Nanowrimo but for Halloween! Thanks for reading and if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Making decisions will be the death of you. Especially decisions this important.

Okay, maybe this isn’t vital in the grand scheme of things but for you, this is of the utmost importance because soon you’ll be sharing your very first Halloween with Thor.

Ben has not been able to stop talking about what he calls, spoopies.

A cute melding of spooky festivities that he created when you’d explained Halloween to him as he got bigger.

You want to make this year special. More special than it will already be with Thor here to celebrate with you.

“My love?” He calls you, voice deep and smooth like warm velvet.

Your heart stutters when your eyes find him, his hands wrapped around the handle of a bright red shopping cart laden with an array of spoopy decorations, as Ben would say.

He sits between Thor’s arms in the cart, swinging his little feet as he fidget with the smooth bleached plastic of a decorative skull. His brow furrowed as his five year old mind memorizes every dip and divot.

On his chest, harnessed to him so that she faces outward is your five-month-old little Roslyn. Heads and shoulders above her milestones, she sits confidently against Thor’s chest, her little legs kicking wildly as she spots you, her little lips puckered as she breathes in and out quickly. She’s hyperventilating it looks like with the excitement she feels at the sight of you.

She releases a fierce and high pitched battle cry to get your attention which she already mostly has save for the part of your brain that is highly focused on the irresistible image of Thor pushing a cart with your little girl strapped to his chest and your son relaxed between his protective hold.

Even though it looks normal, Thor is on alert. Always when the four of you are out and about. He’s been a wreck with worry since the two of you got married and the media got a hold of the photos.

Benny’s face had been plastered across every paper, magazine, and internet article along with your own and Thor had been livid.

It took the entirety of the Avengers to calm him and even then, Tony had Steve keep a pair of arc reactor powered handcuffs nearby. Just in case.

“Wanna borrow them later?” Tony had teased you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while Thor fumed at the other side of the common room in the compound.

Idiot.

So even if he’s learned to pretend that he’s relaxed in public, his defense is always up. His vigilance heightened. A feral daddy for his precious little ones who now everyone knows thanks to the nature of a media driven world.

“What’s that?” You frown, moving closer to him to reach for a spot on his shoulder. The strange shape of an oblong wet spot stains the soft fabric of his charcoal pea coat. Underneath, his white shirt stands bright in contrast.

“What?” He searches the spot you touch before sweeping his hand underneath yours to grab and pull to his lips where he presses a soft kiss to the base of your palm. “It’s a little bit of spittle.”

“That doesn’t look like drool, Thor.” You frown, looking to Rosie who grabs at your shirt now that you’re within reach.

“Rosie threw up a little. She’s alright.” He promises, pulling your hand up to his lips again.

There’s a flurry of gasps and murmurings from behind you and you make to pull your hand away to avoid getting caught on camera in a display of tooth-rotting affection but Thor holds on tighter, keeping his lips pressed to your hand.

With a sigh, you relent and let him do as he pleases, frowning at him instead because you know exactly what’s happening here.

“Thor, did you throw her up in the air again?”

Thor drops your hand and throws his arms out to the sides, a look of getting caught contorting his handsome features into the goof you’ve come to know and love.

“She likes it!” He explains.

With a growl you move back towards the shelf you’d been pondering.

“I won’t do it again.” Thor lies. “I promise.”

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Thor. Or I’ll start making you pay for them.” You threaten and you gasp as his head is beside you suddenly, lips close but not too close as he’s only slightly bent down towards you as he whispers.

“Punishment?” He whispers and the heat of his breath makes your skin pimple. “I like a good spanking.”

“Shut up!” You push his face away and he erupts into hearty chuckles as Rosie coos and giggles with her daddy.

“Why have you been standing here for hours on end?” Thor asks, his focus on Rosie however as she reaches towards the shelf to grab at a pair of cute light up pumpkins. Not exactly spooky but the color changes from yellow to green, purple, blue, red, orange, and back to yellow.

“I can’t decide what to get.” You confess, adjusting the baby bag on your shoulder.

Thor contemplates the decorations brow furrowed as he also blindly reaches for the bag on your shoulder, taking it from you to place on his own massive shoulders.

“Well, Rosie likes the pumpkins, get those.” He points at them, reaching with his other hand to take hold of Rosie’s little hand.

She wraps her fingers around his tightly, squeezing with surprising strength. Their Asgardian blood is strong and have clearly overtaken your own human genes.

“Daddy?” Ben’s voice interjects, thoughtful and low.

When the two of you turn to look at him, you find him pouting.

“Which ones shall we get, my son? Which would you prefer?” Thor wonders, looking down at his little boy.

“I wan’ the spoopy ones, daddy. Spoopy. Wike vampiewos o’ woofs, ‘o monstuss.” Ben explains, his speech still a little bit of a worry for you but Doctor Cho assures you he’s fine and will grow out of it.

“But then you’ll be up at night, sweet pea. I don’t want you to be scared.” You reach over to stroke his cheek and he shakes his head firmly.

“Nooo, mommy. I’m bwave!” He declares. “Get the spoopy ones.”

“Why not jus get both?” Thor suggest and reaches over you to grab a set of the light up pumpkins and adds them to the pile of other more homely decorations you’d picked out earlier. Pillows and throws with pumpkins and ghosts and witches. Garlands and lights, small mini pumpkins and brooms and candy buckets to put in your kitchen.

“Both?” You gasp, a little surprise but also because you didn’t think of it first.

“Yes.” Thor smiles amused by your shock but then grabs the set of scary faces in mirrors that disappear and reappear. “We can make both our children happy.”

“Yay!” Ben cheers, clapping his hands and abandoning the fake skull you’d picked out for the living room side table among the other decorations. “Spoopy! Spoopy! Spoopy!”

His chanting draws a chuckle from Thor, a fond caress from you, and giggles from the others watching from the end of the aisle made too scared by those videos of Thor threatening strangers who’d gotten too close to you or the babies to move closer.

The world loves Ben and Rosie, and though the exposure has made you wary of the possible threats that might come from being so out in the open about your lives together, you relish in the fact that they seem to love your sweet little peas just as much as you do.

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

think of all the fun i´ve missed (think of all the fellas that i haven’t kissed)

-

merry (early) christmas @leifdonnellies! i was your secret santa and i had a lot of fun writing this fic for you :D i hope you enjoy it and have a great holiday season! (the title is from santa baby and really doesn’t fit with the fic all that well but i thought it was funny...)

-

Tobin Batra knew every word in the English dictionary, and yet he still didn’t know the right words to describe the chaos that was SPRQ Point holiday parties. 

After going to one for this first time, Tobin immediately knew why STEM kids and queer kids were never the people throwing parties in high school. When you combined those groups into the group that was the fourth floor of SPRQ Point, the result was a drunken mess of a gathering. 

The floor was cleared off as it would be for any business-related gala, but instead of tasteful lighting and tech speeches, there were tacky Christmas lights strung up and shitty music blasting from every speaker. 

And yet, Tobin loved them. He loved his oddball group of friends and colleagues, and it was fun to hang out with them without any pressure of deadlines and CEO visits, and instead just a week-long break to look forward to. At recent parties, Zoey’s DJ friend Mo provided the music, and he did have objectively better music taste than anyone else there. Tobin liked Mo, and liked getting to chat with him at parties, mostly about music and queer stuff. Another plus of parties was seeing who gave the most outrageous white elephant gifts- Tobin was currently winning that competition ever since he gifted Max a live chinchilla a year ago. (Max still had the chinchilla. He named it Joan after their former boss, and it was beloved by everyone.) Yet another great thing about it was that it was the one night that they finally could replace the bread bar or oatmeal bar or whatever bar with an open bar, because apparently it was legal if it was for a party. But Tobin’s favorite thing about the holiday parties was the fact that it was the one night a year that his boyfriend let Tobin kiss him in front of their colleagues. 

Leif was surprisingly shy about PDA, and had been as long as Tobin had known him. His parents weren’t exactly the most touchy-feely people, with each other or with their children, and it had clearly rubbed off on Leif. Tobin was fine with this, of course, he’d never want to make his boyfriend uncomfortable. Plus the two lived together, and Leif was incredibly touch starved at home, so it wasn’t really a big deal that they never did more than very occasionally hold hands at work. That being said, Tobin discovered recently that Leif found it “morally wrong”- Leif’s words, not Tobin’s- to disobey the laws of mistletoe, and he planned to fully exploit that fact at the party.

Mistletoe was a big thing at these parties- because obviously it was, what chaotic Christmas party was complete without a tiny, slightly-poisonous plant that required you to kiss whoever’s nearest to you if you found yourself under it? When they arrived at the party, Tobin snatched a cluster of mistletoe that was hanging right outside the elevators. He figured that was a fair place to steal it from, because as much as he loved the tradition, it was a bit of a cruel place to hang it, catching people off guard like that. Leif glanced over and saw him grab it, but just rolled his eyes as Tobin winked at him and smirked. 

“Hey guys!” Zoey greeted as they joined the group. “You can put your gifts over there…” She pointed to a small pile before glancing at the package in Tobin’s arms with concern. “I do not want to know what’s in there this year.” 

Tobin smiled wide. “Well, I tried hard to top Joan the chinchilla, but I think it was my peak.” 

Leif and Zoey rolled their eyes in unison as Leif gave Tobin a shove towards the stack of gifts. 

Tobin soon joined the rest of the party, dragging Leif with him and forcing him to dance to the loud music with him. As per usual, Mo had created a killer playlist, albeit a bit of a weird conglomeration of songs. Any playlist that went from a stunning, slow cover of Someday At Christmas (that seemed to have been sung by the DJ himself) immediately into the original version of Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer had to be made by someone at least a little bit high. 

About an hour into the party, Tobin could tell that Leif was getting overwhelmed by all the people and the sounds, so he silently took his hand and pulled him into the nest. 

“Thanks,” Leif said once they were out of earshot of others. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he sat down on the conference table. “Sorry, I don’t know what was happening back there, I’ve been better with social stuff for a while, I guess it just… I dunno… it’s still hard sometimes.”

“Bro, it’s okay, I get it. You never need to apologize about anxiety stuff. And it’s not going to be all better, all the time, and that’s okay. You’ve been doing so good lately, Leif, and you deserve to celebrate that.” Tobin sat next to Leif and put his hand over Leif’s. 

Leif turned to him and smiled softly. “Thank you, babe.” 

Tobin lay his head on Leif’s shoulder and began rubbing gentle circles on Leif’s hand with his thumb. “You’re welcome.” 

Neither man spoke for a few minutes, and Tobin could hear Leif doing some deep breathing, something he often did as a way to calm his anxiety. 

Eventually, when Leif seemed to have fully relaxed, he turned towards Tobin and smiled at him again. “Have I mentioned that you look really nice tonight?” 

Tobin laughed. “A few times. But you can tell me again.”

“Well you do. Really nice.” 

Leif leaned forward and kissed Tobin, and Tobin counted it a win that his boyfriend kissed him at work with no mistletoe involved. 

Tobin pulled away much sooner than he wanted to, because they were still at a party after all. “Hey, you ready to go back?”

Leif squeezed his hand before standing up. “Yeah. I think so.”

  The two of them left the conference room, and only got a few strange looks from the other party-goers as they made their way back to the group. 

“There you are!” Zoey said as she and Simon made their way over. “We were waiting for you to start gifts.” 

The next half-hour was spent in a flurry of white elephant chaos, filled with plenty of cursing and sighing and coming close to tears begging someone to please steal their gift because they don’t even play an instrument, why do they need sheet music for the wii theme?! Although none of the gifts came close to the glory of Tobin’s chinchilla, it was unanimously decided that Leif won this year’s most outrageous gift with the collection of small cowboy hats that Simon ended up with (something Simon was weirdly pleased with receiving.) Tobin had pouted about this decision, seeing as the hats had originally been his idea, but his boyfriend looked so pleased about winning such a stupid contest that Tobin let him take the win without too much complaining. 

It was getting late, and the party would likely be wearing to a close soon. People were still dancing, however- Leif being one of them. He and Zoey and Simon were in the middle of the floor, moving in a way that they must have considered “dancing” (but was really just a weird movement of limbs all over the place). 

The red and green lights were reflecting in Leif’s hair, making the blond curls glow in a way that could only be described as magical. His suit jacket had been abandoned at some point in the evening, so he was wearing only a deep red short sleeve dress shirt with a green vest over it. Despite the cliche color scheme, the outfit looked great on Leif. Tobin watched as Leif threw his head back in laughter at something Simon said, and felt a weird flutter in his heart at the sight. Even after nearly two years of dating Leif, and nearly twelve years of being in love with him, the other man never failed to make Tobin feel like he was fifteen again, looking over at the boy playing video games on the couch next to him, and being hit with a rush of feelings so sudden and so strong that Tobin thought he was dying. 

Tobin moved suddenly from where he’d been standing next to George, asking his friend to hold his drink for a moment. He joined Leif on the dance floor right as Santa Baby faded out (the dance moves done for that song did not bear repeating, to say the least), and faintly processed Mo announcing that their final song of the night was White Christmas because it had just started snowing in San Francisco, so of course it was. 

“Hey.” Tobin announced his presence as he sidled up next to Leif, swaying slightly to the melody. 

“Hi!” Leif turned around so quickly that he needed to steady himself by grabbing on to Tobin’s waist (nothing Tobin was complaining about), his face flushed from dancing. 

“Care to dance?” Tobin put his arms up and around Leif’s shoulders, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Zoey and Simon had begun to slow dance away from them, seemingly lost in each other. 

Leif just smiled in response and began leading Tobin slowly around the floor. Neither one of them were particularly great at dancing, but it didn’t matter. As Tobin heard the song drawing to a close, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the mistletoe he had grabbed earlier. Upon finding it, he raised his arm above both him and Leif’s heads so that the mistletoe hung above them.

“Hey L.” Tobin said to get his boyfriend’s attention, because he’d somehow not noticed the commotion.

“Yeah?”

“Look up.” Tobin smirked.

Leif did so and immediately rolled his eyes and blushed.

“Well?” Tobin knew he was being obnoxious but didn’t care. “I seem to recall someone here saying that it was wrong to not follow the rules of mistletoe. Are you really gonna go back on your word now-”

Leif shut Tobin up by kissing him. 

Tobin smiled into the kiss, moving his non-mistletoe hand to cradle Leif’s face. People were probably staring at them, but he didn’t care. It’s not like no one knew they were together. 

Leif pulled back after a minute, slapping the mistletoe with indignance until Tobin lowered his arm. Their faces were still close, foreheads resting together.

“Merry Christmas Tobes.” 

Tobin gave Leif another quick kiss and smiled at him. ��Merry Christmas Leif.” 

[endless-whump]

Simon/Oliver: Celtic Knots

CW: SHAMELESS FLUFF, conditioning, painful memory triggers, self doubt/deprecating thoughts, 

Masterlist

This might be the longest chapter I’ve written for them, or just for a singular fic overall.  So much angsty fluff, I love it.  This is probably one of my favorite pieces <3

---

“You wanna go out?”

Oliver looked up from the puzzle he was putting together on the floor, pushing up his glasses a little.  He had the border done, working corners to center to piece together a picture of a fox.  Simon was standing in the doorway, dressed with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Want to take you downtown, there's a nice shop there I think you’d like.  It's not a long walk, it’ll do you some good.”

He glanced nervously at the window, the idea of going out where lots of people were, or just..just going outside making him nervous.  It was a dark, overcast morning, the kind of weather that made Oliver sleepy and relaxed.  It looked like it was threatening to rain, but that didn’t seem to deter Simon from his idea.

“I- are you sure?”  He asked quietly, bringing his uninjured knee up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee.  His other leg had a boot on it, the cast thankfully long gone.  He could walk a little better, now, just couldn’t be on his feet for long.  “..By ourselves? What if-”

“Nothing’s gonna happen.”  Simon cut in before Oliver could start sounding panicky.  “It's super local, nobody will give a second thought about us being out.  Plus, the people who own the place are good friends with Marie.  They know.”

Oliver nodded slowly, looking down and fidgeting with his sleeve.  Simon was familiar with the area, went out with Marie a lot.  If Simon insisted it was safe..

“Ok.”  He nodded before he could start overthinking it, smiling a little.  “Sounds like fun.”

Simon's face broke out into a smile that made Oliver’s heart warm, and he quickly came forward, holding out a hand to help him up.  Oliver liked seeing him smile like that, he didn’t do it very often.  He was quickly helped to his feet and handed his hoodie, happy but still nervous to follow Simon to the door.

“You’ll love it, I promise.”  He pulled the door open and led them out into the chilly air.  There were pumpkins on the porch, some with designs carved into them.  Oliver wrapped his arms around himself with a shiver as he walked slowly beside Simon, enjoying the feeling of cool breeze against his skin despite how cold it was.

It was fall, apparently.  Initially all Oliver really knew about it was that the weather changed, but he’d quickly discovered that in the safehouse it meant a lot more.  He’d been amazed as Mia dusted off an autumn cookbook and handed it to him, explaining that they usually made a lot of dishes for the season.  He’d spent over two hours sitting on the couch with it, cuddled up to Simon who was all too willing to read off the recipes to him.

Oliver very quickly discovered he loved everything that came with fall.  From all the new recipes to the cold rainy weather, the hot chocolate Mia bought everyone and the leaves and the funny movies Kendric put on the tv and just- everything.  He loved fall.  It gave him a very good excuse to wrap himself in endless blankets in front of the small fireplace, to fall asleep beside it listening to an audiobook and pretend he hadn’t stirred when he was picked up and brought to his room.

He loved the little orange lights strung up in front of the stores as they walked down the street, how everything just seemed so warm and cozy and safe.  He loved how Luna matched the color scheme of the whole thing, but he’d never admit it, the thought felt silly.  

The sidewalk they were on was mostly empty, only a few people passing them and barely sparing the pair a glance, to Oliver’s relief.  He stared down at the brick, happy to ease himself by observing the cracks in the stone and leaves scattered on the ground.

He almost ran into Simon when he came to a stop, blinking and pulling himself from his thoughts.  They were in front of a small shop, books and antiques lining the window displays.  Antiques.  That was a strange word.  Oliver wasn’t sure what that word meant or how he knew it, just knew it felt like a right descriptor for what he was looking at.

“We’re here.”  Simon grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door, the bell ringing as it swung open.  As soon as they stepped in Oliver was hit by the smell of cinnamon and old books, his glasses fogging slightly at the sudden, warm change of temperature.  There were books everywhere, old furniture pushed up against the walls and shelves lined with knicknacks filling the small space.  It was a gorgeous shop, sparking wonder in Oliver’s mind.  He almost didn’t notice someone, an older looking man, turning the corner and offering a small wave to the pair.

“You must be Marie’s boys.”  He said warmly.  Oliver startled a little, pressing against Simon’s side as his gaze snapped to the stranger.  He dropped his hand, a curious but gentle look crossing his face.  “You’re fine here, I can promise you that.  No need to be nervous.”

“He’s just a little shy.”  Simon explained, holding out his hand.  “I’m Simon, and this is Oliver.  I’ve been here with Mia, but Lara was the only one in, I think.”

The man took Simon's hand and shook it, smiling.  “Nice to meet you, I’m Greg.  Y’all can look around as long as you want, I’ll just be wandering around, pretending to be busy stocking or whatever Lara thinks I’m doing.”

Simon snorted, shaking his head as he dropped his hand back down to his side.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.  It was nice meeting you.”

He led Oliver around to the side of the store, the floorboards of old wood creaking just slightly as they moved.  The boy looked around curiously, eyeing crystals and jewelry and books lined up endlessly along the shelves.  He let a little bit of distance between him and Simon grow, letting some of the tension and nervousness melt.  He always kept the other in his line of vision, though, watching him start to rummage through shelves and leave Oliver to explore independently.

He stopped at a tall bookshelf, eyeing the crystals laid out carefully with wonder.  Some were purple, others a deep, earthy green, others white, almost clear.  He was hesitant to touch them, feeling as if he wasn’t allowed.  He hesitantly lifted a hand to feel one, spending no more than a moment or two with any particular item before setting it back down.

He picked up a small pendant laid on the shelf, bringing it up into the light to look at.  It was a dark purple, hints of lighter color mixed and faded with it.  It had a small pattern engraved into it, and he ran his finger over it to feel the grooves.

“Celtic knot,”  He hummed without thinking, mostly to himself.  He blinked, staring at the pendant.  He wasn’t sure what the word meant, or why he remembered it. I love the little moments when they remember things but they have no attachment to the word, it’s one of my favorite nuances of boxie conditioning.

“Hm?”  Simon, who’d been flipping through a book, stopped and looked up, gaze dropping to the necklace Oliver was holding.  “Did you say something, Ollie?”

Oliver’s brows furrowed as he tried to dig deeper into that word, that memory he knew had to be associated with it.  The word felt old, like the shop.  It felt like music and the smell of leather or food, like a hand intertwined in his pulling him along through a crowd of colors.  It carried laughter and a finger smudging icing against his temple, the feeling of a kiss on his cheek.  It felt like..like..damn it.  It was already fading, the piercing pain replacing the memories he so desperately wanted to grab hold of.  His head hurt and he couldn’t find it, it felt like it was just beyond his reach.  He could almost hear the sound of voices that sounded so familiar but so far away, his vision blurring and darkening as he got dizzy with the feeling, like an old building caving in on itself, lost and forgotten and torn down even with all those memories still locked inside, people wanting to destroy it.  He wanted to find it, he needed to- 

“Ollie.”

He startled when a hand closed over his, blinking and flinching back. He was..on the floor, leaning over with Simon sitting in front of him.  Oliver stifled a whimper, fighting the burst of pain in his head that threatened to take over him at the disobedience of trying to dig that far.  He was still clutching the necklace, Simon's hand warm over his.

“Deep breaths, you’re ok.  We’re in that little shop just around the corner from the house, nobody is here except for us and Greg.  Breathe, Oliver, I’m right here.”

Oliver let himself fall forward against Simon's chest, breathing in his smell of coffee and grass and rain.  Arms wrapped around him and squeezed, calming the raging storm inside his mind, almost as if the pressure and comfort was compressing his thoughts until they calmed and faded out.  He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, the pin of stress holding him tight pulled out of him and allowing him to unravel.

“Sorry,”  Oliver murmured, letting himself relax.  He let the memory slip away, letting the pain and tension leave with it.  “Thought too hard..I tried to remember..”

A gentle hand pried his fingers open to reveal the necklace where he’d been gripping it tightly.

“This what set you off?”  Simon asked, starting to pull it away.  Oliver pulled it back to his chest instinctively, like he wanted to protect it.  It sparked something in him for a reason he couldn’t identify, a shadow of previous life he wanted to hang on to.  He could let go of the memory but wanted to keep the feeling, the echo of that laughter and a warm feeling in his chest.

“Reminded me of something,”  He let Simon pull him back to his feet, staring at the necklace.  If he didn’t dig too deep into the memory the warm, familiar feeling of the necklace could stay just that, a comfort.  He didn’t need to push it beyond that.

“You want it?”  Simon asked.

Oliver blinked in surprise, gaze lifting to the others open, genuine expression.

“I..I can have it?  What do you mean?”  He asked questioningly.  It wasn’t his, he couldn’t just have it, could he?

“It’s a store, you walnut.”  He ruffled Oliver’s hair, chuckling.  “Mia gave me some cash to take you out, there's a coffee place I wanna swing by before we go home.  We can get the necklace if you like it, I’m getting a few books.”

Oliver’s eyes widened slightly as he started to nod but hesitated.  He wasn’t sure he deserved this, to have people do so much for him.  It seemed so nice, and they already did so much for him.

“Are you sure?”  He asked quietly.  “It's not..too much?

“Oliver, its-”  Simon sighed, checking the small paper tag on the necklace.  “-ten bucks.  We can spend ten bucks on something that reminds you of something nice.  You..you need to realize that you deserve things, Ollie.  Even small things that maybe don’t feel important, like gifts or getting paid attention to, those small things.  I know they feel like things you don’t deserve or cost us a lot, but that's not true.  It's just a kind of affection, Oliver.  An affection you deserve.”

Oliver was stunned for a moment, swallowing thickly as the words settled into his mind.  He’d heard similar things before, but it felt like he’d put a wall up for himself against it.  Or maybe someone else forced him to.

He took a breath, forcing himself to let those words past his walls.  Simon smiled as he nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.  

He was full of anxious energy as they went back to the front of the store, Simon carrying a small stack of books and Oliver the pendant.  He barely paid attention to the small talk exchanged between Simon and Greg, thumb rubbing back and forth against the small pattern on the crystal.  A small smile pulled at his lips, and he swayed slightly from side to side with contentment.

“You ready?”  Simon asked, snapping Oliver out of the quiet place in his mind he’d zoned out in.  He nodded, giving a small wave to the older man as he followed Simon out of the store.  Despite having overloading himself he felt a sense of calm over him, a sense of familiarity over himself.  He hoped it would stay.

There was gentle rainfall now, a soft drizzle that dampened Oliver’s hair as he stepped out of the store.  He took the pendant, his pendant, and looped it over his head as they started walking, and he tried to ignore the small hint of pain starting to build in his leg.  He wasn’t going to ask Simon if they could turn back, this meant too much to him.

He took reassurance in the small weight around his neck, though, following Simon as he guided them just around the corner towards another shop, this one with big windows where you could clearly see the inside.  It was a little hard to see, now, water droplets covering his glasses.  He took them off, resolving to wait until he could wipe them off inside.

He had to go up a step going through the shop's door, leaning against Simon's arm for help.  The first thing that hit him was the smell, Oliver couldn’t recognize what it was but it smelled amazing.  There were small lights strung up all over the place, dark wood and stone for the walls.  The entire place looked perfectly cozy, and yet very open and airy.  It didn’t make him feel claustrophobic, despite the fact there were other people, people he didn’t know, inside.

“Why don’t you go sit and wait for me over there, you’ll be in my line of sight and I promise nobody will bother you.”

Oliver’s gaze moved to where Simon was pointing, a small booth in the front corner of the shop, by the window.  He pressed his lips together and nodded, walking hesitantly to the empty booth.  Simon seemed to know the people here, smiling as he pointed up at the menu on the wall and talking casually with the woman at the counter.  Oliver avoided looking at it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to read it, anyways.  He wiped the water off his glasses with the fabric of the shirt under his hoodie, sliding them back on with relief.

He let himself relax enough to turn away, looking out the window as the rain started to get heavier, the sidewalks clearing as people hurried on their way to get out of the weather.  He let himself focus on the array of colors reflecting off the water droplets rolling down the window panes, street and store lights alike making the water sparkle and swirl in color.

More and more tension melted from him with each sound of rain hitting the window, eyes subconsciously darting along the pane to watch the drops race down the glass, some rolling all the way out of his sight and others staying, catching the light and blurring his view of the outside.

“Here we go, Ollie.  You doing ok?”

Oliver turned his head as Simon sat down across from him, sliding a drink across the table to him and holding his own.  Orange leaves swirled in pattern around the cup, the cream colored drink cold when he picked it up.  It had golden lines of syrup coming down the sides, but Oliver wasn’t sure what it was.

“Yea.  What is it?”  He asked curiously.  Simon had a playful glint in his eyes, leaning back in the booth as he took a drink of his own.

“Coffee.” Simon said excitedly, winking.  “It's a latte, got you vanilla with caramel.  You’ll love it, I promise.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow as he took a careful sip, eyebrows shooting up at the sweet taste.  His face broke out in a smile as he drank more, overwhelmed by the strong vanilla, a hint of caramel accompanying it, an almost ice cream type taste.  It had a bit of a more bitter aftertaste mixed in, but surprisingly he didn’t mind it.  It definitely smelled like coffee, too.  It was similar to how Simon smelled.

“It's good, right?  I didn’t get you decaf so don’t drink it too fast, and don’t you dare let Marie know I let you have it.  She’ll kill me if she knew I let you anywhere near caffeine.”

“It's good.”  Oliver confirmed with a nod before continuing sipping at it, grinning.  “Won’t tell anyone, promise.”

Simon leaned over and pointed to the counter, where the girl who took his order was busy at the register.  She had purple hair pulled up into a bun, a tattoo showing on the back of her neck and disappearing below her shirt collar.  She had dark skin, the golden bracelets on her arm contrasting sharply with the tone.  She was pretty, Oliver thought to himself.  Really pretty.

“That's Lilith, she made our drinks.  She’s really nice, I talk to her sometimes when I come here.  Alec isn’t here today, it looks like, but he’s also really cool to talk to.  I can introduce you to them sometime, if you’re feeling up for it.  They both work most of the week.”

Oliver felt a sudden pang of sadness, of jealousy at the fact Simon seemed so familiar with the place.  He already had known Simon went out on errands and such, was able to go around on his own, but it still felt weird.  It made him feel out of place, here, made him feel separate from Simon in a way, which terrified him.  Simon could..he could leave, if he wanted to.  He could read, he could take care of himself, he could do everything Oliver couldn't.  He had friends and could handle himself in the world.  He looked..like he was healing.  Like he could be his own person again, which means he didn’t need Oliver anymore.

“What's wrong?”

He kept his gaze down, feeling a little sick to his stomach as he fidgeted with the straw on his drink.  He didn’t want to ask it, didn’t want to ruin their day and how happy Simon was feeling, but he couldn’t help the growing question in his mind.

“Why haven’t you left me, yet?”  He asked, voice breaking.  There was a complete silence between them, and after a long moment Oliver dared to glance up at Simon.  His lips were pressed together, jaw set, a hardened but confused expression in his eyes.

“What do you mean, Oliver?”  He asked very, very quietly.  Oliver looked away again, wishing he’d never voiced the question.

“You just..you’re able to live.  You, um, you can talk to people, and live, just..just existing, I guess, with people.  You could move on, if you wanted to.  You’re not hurting, anymore, so you don’t need me.”

He could see Simon tapping on the table in his line of vision, the sound of soft voices and traffic surrounding them.  He could feel that warmth and security fading, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

“I’m still hurting, Oliver.”  Simon finally answered.  “I..I wanted to hide that, from you.  I thought I was protecting you, by not showing you when I was hurting.”

The wave of guilt that replaced that jealousy made Oliver grimace.  It was selfish, to think like that.  He should know Simon went through things just as bad as him, if not worse.  He knew Simon was beaten, starved, conditioned, tortured just as much as he was, and he’d watched it, too.  He should know Simon just hid it well, dealt with it well.  Who was he to put a label on Simon, to act like -

“Hey-”  Simon's finger was under Oliver’s chin, tilting his head up so he could look him in the eyes, expression gentle.  “Don’t start down that road in your mind, I can already see your gears turning.  It's not your fault, and I understand why you could get scared and feel that way.  All I want you to understand is that I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?  I don’t plan on leaving, not unless you ever wanted me to.”

The finger left Oliver’s chin and jabbed at his chest gently, his green eyes feeling sharp and piercing in comparison to Oliver’s soft, brown ones.

“You mean everything to me, Oliver.  You’re not a job, or a burden, or an obligation, or some project I plan on ditching when I’m finished.  You’re not just some comfort to me until I’m good enough to leave.  Fuck- Oliver I don’t think I could last, without you.  I really and truly don’t think I could.  I love you, and I’d go through every second of that facility again to prove that.”

The sound of rain felt like a blanket around them, a distinct sound that kept Oliver locked right where he was in the moment instead of allowing him to flee somewhere deep in his mind.  He felt frozen, his stubborn resolve starting to crack.  He inhaled shakily, choosing his words carefully.

“..really?”  He breathed, heart fluttering.  “You’re not..leaving?  When you’re ok again?”  Oliver wasn’t sure he could ever be ok again, ok enough to be normal and live again.  Simon could, though, so he expected him to..leave, eventually.  To move on without him.  That was always the expectation.

“God no, Oliver.  I always thought we could..stick together, you know?  Unless you ever wanted to move on.  I never planned on leaving.”  His face was sad, voiced laced with grief and guilt Oliver had never heard from him before.  “Did you..think I was leaving?  That I was going to move on without you, eventually?”

Oliver just shrugged, but they both knew the interpretation to that.

“Oliver...you know I..want to stay with you, right?  I’m not saying this out of some obligation to take care of you, I want to live with you.  You’re family to me.”

Oliver took a sip of his drink, focusing on that strong vanilla taste.  He pressed his lips together before letting out a breath, some of his anxiety leaving with it.  Someone laughed at a table behind them, the sounds of the rest of the world seeming to tune back in.

“Oh.”

With a little work, he was able to let more words past his walls.

--

“-o carry you?”  

Oliver startled, blinking as he held back a yawn.  Simon was looking at him with an amused expression, hands shoved in his pockets as they stood back outside the coffee shop.  It had stopped raining, mostly, the sky still dark and giving the downtown area a quiet feel.

“S,Sorry..sorry what did you say?”  He asked apologetically, shivering a little.  He felt exhausted, eyelids drooping even as he stood.  Small, sharp pangs of pain shot through his leg every time he put weight on it, a constant reminder he was pushing himself too far.

“I asked if you wanted me to carry you.  Thought the caffeine would have you bouncing off the walls, but you look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Oh,”  Oliver hummed tiredly, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet to sway slightly.  He felt calm, which felt strange to him considering.  He drank the whole coffee despite Simon’s warning to be careful with the new substance, and now he just felt like he wanted to curl up under a blanket and sleep.  “Sure..if that's ok.  My, um, my leg kind of hurts.”

Simon crouched down on one knee, gesturing to him.

“It's not that far from the house, I don’t mind.  My fault for pushing you to walk so far.”

“It's fine.”  Oliver hummed, wrapping his arms around Simon's neck and letting the other lift him, arms hooking under his knees to hoist him up.  He was content to rest his head against his arm tucked against Simon’s neck, closing his eyes and listening to the soft sounds of traffic as he started walking.  A car, someone talking in hushed whispers, heels on the sidewalk.  There was a bird hovering somewhere, a dog yapping in excitement.  Drops of water dripped quietly from the overhangs of buildings, a few hitting the top of Oliver’s hair when they passed underneath them.

He could still feel the weight of the pendant around his neck, a new reminder of a distant feeling, one he wished he could remember.  Maybe one day he would remember, would be able to visualize the face of that person he remembered, or at least grasp the meaning behind the warmth in his chest.  Maybe there was somebody who cared about him before.  Maybe Oliver had lived, before.

Things were quiet.  

His mind was quiet, the thoughts drifting and making him wonder calmly and curiously, not stiffen with anxiety of unknowing.  He didn’t need all the answers, right now.  He could just cling to the feeling.

He could barely muster the energy to stir when he was lowered, his back meeting soft cushion that sank under his weight.  It was warm, now, something dry and soft tucked around him as his glasses were pulled off, folded with a soft clinking of metal.

Arms wrapped around him and squeezed softy, fingers running up his scalp.  His back was against something solid, the back of a couch, he deduced, his face tucked carefully against a warm chest.  He melted against the full, surrounding contact that compressed and seemed to hold him together, not make him claustrophobic like some might assume.

Simon was humming something Oliver couldn’t stay awake enough to register, the vibration of his voice deep in his chest just pulling him closer to sleep.  He mulled over what Simon had said, the words repeating idly in his head even as he slipped into the quiet.  He was ready to try and trust Simon for who he was, what both of them were, instead of a need for survival and comfort.  To trust that he was staying, that he cared beyond how he was forced to.

He was ready to start letting more past his walls, he decided

And he was ready to start believing he deserved to

----

taglist

@insanitywishes @18-toe-beans @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @briars7 @albino-whumpee @thatsthewhump

[fictionaffliction]

Better Forgotten

Chapter Two

Pairings: Loki/OC

Summary: Dr. Ingrid Hansen is a respected psychologist struggling with the aftermath of the Snap as well as her own trauma from an accident she endured many years ago. Her world is thrown into utter chaos when she meets a dangerous man posing as a client. Dr. Strange is reluctantly tasked with protecting her, but in order to do so, he must first help her recover who she truly is. While she is grateful for his help, she has to wonder, are some things better forgotten?

Rated M

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, memory loss, chronic pain

June 6, 2024

The clock seemed too loud in Dr. Hansen’s office as the afternoon sun filtered through the unshaded windows. She glanced up at it, annoyed.

2:30 . Her clients were due half an hour ago. She swallowed her frustration and massaged her brow as she picked up the phone and called her receptionist, Lauren, whose desk was down the hall.

“Yes, Dr. Hansen?” Her voice was chipper, likely because of how much coffee she drank.

“It looks like the Coopers are a no-show. Can you please phone them and see if you can get them to reschedule?” Ingrid said, looking over their file. It was disappointing to see them skip an appointment. They had made good progress over the last two months.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to send in your next client?”

“He’s here already?”

“Yep.”

Ingrid was used to people being right on time or five minutes late. To be half an hour early was nearly unheard of in her practice.

“Sure, send him in,” Ingrid.

“You got it!” Lauren said and hung up the phone. Ingrid found herself smiling at her young employee’s enthusiasm. Sometimes she wished she could bottle some of that energy for herself. She took a moment to refresh her lipstick in the mirror she kept in her desk drawer and smooth the stray hairs that had escaped her barrette.

There was a hesitant knock on her office door and she put the mirror away. She stood and straightened her skirt, crossed the plush carpeted floor, and opened the door.

The man at the threshold was tall and slim, wearing a dark suit and deep green tie, which only served to emphasize his pale complexion. His coal-black hair was combed neatly back, which almost hid how long it was. She smiled up at him pleasantly, not allowing herself to linger on the strangeness of his presentation. He stared back at her with striking green eyes. Something about him seemed slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. For just a moment, he looked ever so slightly unnerved, but she blinked and his expression was once again composed.

“Mr. Lawson?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“Yes,” he said in a voice just slightly deeper than she had expected. He took her hand gently. “Dr. Hansen?”

She nodded and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room and looked around. The office was decorated in Ingrid’s favored modern style, with tones of soft grey and blue being the dominant color scheme. She found the colors to be calming.

“You have a lovely office,” he commented, searching for something to say. She kept her face in its practiced neutral expression as she made note of his body language. He held his hands clasped in front of him. His posture was excellent but rigid, with his chin held a little higher than what she would consider to be normal.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I like to keep the space organized. I find that it invites a clear mind.” She gestured to the soft blue couch with an open hand in invitation. “Have a seat,” she said as she settled into the short-backed chair on the other side of the coffee table, crossing her ankles gracefully. He sat, but only after she was sitting.

“Would you like anything before we begin?” Ingrid asked.

“No, thank you,” he said, settling in his seat. She flipped open a legal pad in a handsome leather portfolio.

“Your first name is Walter, yes?” she asked. He nodded. “Well, Walter, what do you do for a living?”

“Advertising,” he answered in an almost practiced way. She scratched a note on her pad.

“Ah, psychology’s evil twin,” she quipped. He smirked.

“I suppose so.”

“And what brings you in today?” This was the first hurdle. Sometimes a client wouldn’t be fully transparent and Ingrid would have to coax it out of them. Walter shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“I’m...I’m looking to reconnect with my wife,” he answered, his voice tense. She nodded in acknowledgment, taking another note. “I was told that you were the person to come to for this sort of thing.”

She smiled. “Well, marriage and family counseling is my specialty.” She pointed her pen at her degree on the wall. He remained stiff. Best to stay on topic, she decided. “Are you and your wife separated?” He nodded, thin lips pursed as though he was deciding what he would and wouldn’t tell her. “Divorced?”

“No.” His tone was final. She watched him closely, eyes betraying nothing but patience. He seemed to realize how rude he had sounded. “We never discussed it,” he amended. Her eyes darted to his ring finger, still adorned with a gold band carved with designs she couldn’t quite make out. He followed her gaze. “I never had the heart to take it off.”

“You sound a little embarrassed about that,” Ingrid observed. His knuckles turned white as he briefly clenched his fist.

“I’m not known for being particularly sentimental.”

Ingrid looked up from her notes and smiled softly. “Then you have made a very brave choice in coming here. It can be difficult to allow yourself to be vulnerable.” He chuckled and shook his head as though trying to shrug off the idea.

Ingrid let him linger a moment in the silence that followed before calling him back to the present. “How long have you been separated?” she asked.

He thought for a moment. “About thirteen years.”

She raised her eyebrows and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “That’s a long time.” He nodded. “Were either of you victims of the Decimation?”

Walter nodded again slowly, keeping eye contact with her as though trying to make her understand his reasons without speaking them aloud. She would get to the bottom of it eventually, but if he did not wish to discuss it now, she certainly would not push it. The elimination of half the population had caused a significant amount of trauma for most people. The sudden loss of so many loved ones left many feeling alone and instilled a sense of fear and uncertainty that left them feeling hopeless. Some feared that a second Decimation would happen, and the lives that they had managed to piece together would be shattered once more.

It was a topic for another session.

“Have you spoken to her since then?”

“No,” he said, his voice quiet. “No, I haven’t.”

“I see.” She sat back again and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, the Decimation certainly has affected relationships, whether it’s torn them apart or prompted couples to get back together. That being said, thirteen years of separation changes the dynamic of a relationship. It may be...difficult for your marriage to recover.”

He frowned. “Are you saying you can’t help me?” There was an icy edge to his voice that unnerved her. Something had peeked through his carefully crafted fa ç ade. Rage, loss, desperation? It seemed to be all of those things at once and then none of them at all.

“Not at all,” she said after a pause that was longer than she meant it to be. “I only want you to be prepared if your wife does not wish to pursue reconciliation.”

He ran his fingers over his ring, staring out the window again. “Don’t say that, Doctor. I need her back.”

“I will do everything I can,” she assured him.

“Thank you,” he said, refocusing his eyes on her. She nodded.

“The Decimation was only six years ago,” Ingrid continued. “What happened to prompt such a lengthy separation before that?”

Walter considered her carefully before replying, watching her as keenly as she watched him. “There was a...family disagreement regarding an inheritance.”

“And this was enough for you to separate?” she asked curiously.

His jaw clenched and relaxed again as he shifted in his seat. “Yes,” he answered after a pause that was a mere moment too long. She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

Perhaps she could prompt him in the right direction. “Tell me about your family,” she said gently.

“I don’t see what they have to do with anything,” he hissed, a small snarl revealing itself under his sharp nose.

Though the severity of his reaction was slightly unusual, the sentiment was not. The connection between one’s upbringing and how they handled their personal relationships were inextricably linked, whether it was because the person wanted to be just like their parents, or the opposite of them, or simply because they mimicked what they observed and knew to be normal. More often than not, they were entirely unaware of the connection.

“Think of your psyche as a house.” Ingrid began. “If your childhood is your foundation, then everything built upon it is dependent on it. If the foundation is flawed, then the frame of your house might tilt. You might not even notice it at first, but sooner or later you’ll want to hang a picture and that picture will never quite hang straight.” He tilted his head and raised a brow in what appeared to be amusement. “We need to examine your foundation to see why your pictures aren’t hanging straight.”

He allowed himself a chuckle. “I don’t know if there are enough hours in a day to recount all of my family’s failings. Besides, I don’t think you’ve ever heard a story quite like mine.”

She sat forward. “Try me.”

He took in a deep breath and let it hiss loudly out between his lips. “It’s complicated.” She squinted quizzically at him. He huffed. “Why does this have to be so difficult?”

Ingrid closed her notebook and set it down. “The first session is always the hardest,” she said reassuringly. “Why don’t we take a break? I could personally use a cup of tea.” He sighed and nodded. She got up and went to the electric kettle she kept on the side table by the door and flicked the switch.

“I’ll take a black coffee,” Walter said from the couch. She set a bag of pomegranate tea in her mug to steep and poured him a cup of coffee. She held his drink out to him as she came back around to face him.

Walter’s hand reached out to take it from her. As he took the clean white ceramic mug, his fingers brushed against her skin. Surely an accident, but Ingrid found herself holding his gaze. Something familiar scratched at the back of her mind. Not quite déjà vu, but more like the hazy memory of a long-forgotten dream. But the harder she tried to dredge it to the surface, the further down it sank. A pain bloomed behind her eyes. She looked away and massaged her temple with her free hand.

She hoped it wouldn’t turn into an episode. The idea of getting a migraine during an appointment was mortifying.

“Is something the matter?” Walter inquired.

Ingrid shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a headache. I’m sure some tea will clear it right up,” she assured him with a smile as she resumed her seat.

Walter sipped his coffee thoughtfully. His gaze did not leave her as he brought the mug to his lips. She found it slightly unnerving. The spot behind her eyes throbbed again. She set her mug down with a wince as she pressed her hand to her forehead firmly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Walter asked, a slight tone of worry coloring his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted as the pain subsided again. “Sorry, that was so strange. Let’s continue, shall we? Tell me about your wife.”

He rubbed his thumb along the handle of the mug and sighed. “Gentle, kind most of the time, and beautiful of course.”

“Of course,” Ingrid agreed with a smile, though she wondered if perhaps he was seeing through lenses tinted with pretty memories. “What’s her name?”

Walter’s hands stilled. He set his cup down and steepled his fingers in consideration as he examined Ingrid from across the room. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response.

“Sigyn.” The name fell from his mouth with reverence, the syllables passing over his lips like an incantation. Longing draped itself over the word and Ingrid felt a pang of sympathy. His wife’s name was sacred to him even after so long being apart from her.

“Like the myth,” she remarked, pretending not to notice Walter’s initial hesitation. He sighed heavily, his eyes sliding away from her. “Have I upset you?” she asked with a practiced but sincere tone. Walter frowned but remained silent, running his fingers over his bottom lip in thought. “Walter?”

He glanced up at her again before getting to his feet and crossing the room to the window. Ingrid stood and followed him as he clasped his hands behind his back, reminding her of a ship’s captain surveying the deck below. She wasn’t alarmed by the behavior, having dealt with many couples trying to hash out issues and finding themselves pacing in an attempt to work off the nervous energy.

“Myths,” he muttered, studying the New York skyline. “That’s what we were reduced to.”

Her brow furrowed. We?

“Only they weren’t myths, were they? Thor is real. He’s out there making a spectacle of himself every chance he gets,” he said, spite cutting into his voice.

“Well, yes. I suppose that’s true,” she admitted. “A lot of things we thought were impossible have been proven possible over the past few years.”

He turned abruptly to look at her again, green eyes piercing her own in a way that made her suddenly feel like she was under a microscope. “More than possible, Doctor. Factual.”

She opened her mouth to agree but found herself mute at the sight of a golden shimmer passing over Walter’s body. She gasped and stumbled backward into her desk, knocking over a stack of paperwork. He stepped toward her as his suit was replaced by a black breastplate with gold inlay catching the light of the afternoon sun. A long green cape flared out behind him as he continued forward with a wicked smirk.

In his full regalia, the image of him finally placed itself in Ingrid’s memory.

“You-” she said breathlessly. “You’re Loki. You’re the one who attacked New York!” she exclaimed shakily, pressing herself farther against her desk.

His smile faded, replaced by a bewildered expression. “What?”

Panic ripped itself through her veins and she did the only thing she could think of. Ingrid opened her mouth to scream for help, but her cry was quickly muffled by Loki’s hand.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice, keeping his hand clamped over her mouth.

She fumbled for something to defend herself with and blindly snatched a copy of the DSM-V, hitting him over the head with the heavy book, knocking his hand away. He grunted at the force of the strike but hardly seemed slowed by it. If anything, he looked annoyed. She made to punch him before he caught her hand, arresting her blow just as she was about to connect with his face. She tried again, only for him to repeat his defense and catch her other hand.

“Stop it!” he demanded, scowling down at her.

She stilled, trying to remember any negotiating tactics she could think of. Did the same rules apply to alien supervillains? “What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to match his scowl.

His grip slackened just a little. “I’m not--”

At that precise moment, the door came flying open and Lauren burst into the room. Ingrid wanted to shout to her to run, but then she saw the pistol trained on Loki’s chest.

“Why do you have a gun?!” was the only thing Ingrid could manage.

“Get down!” Lauren shouted back at her.

Ingrid felt herself being pushed away as Loki lept away and the first shot rang out. Ingrid screamed and took cover behind her desk, covering her ears in an attempt to block out the deafening noise of gunfire. She heard glass shatter and in a strange moment of confusion wondered how much replacing the windows was going to cost her. The gunfire stopped and Lauren swore.

Ingrid peeked out from behind her desk to see that the middle window was shattered. Her ears were ringing and her hip ached from where she had hit the floor, but she seemed to be otherwise unscathed. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes finally landed on Lauren, who was reloading her magazine.

“Lauren, what the hell-?” Ingrid said breathlessly, unable to articulate further.

“Dr. Hansen, are you hurt?” Lauren asked, her voice lower than Ingrid was used to hearing.

"No, I don't think so," she replied quickly.

"Good. I need you to come with me," Lauren said, barely letting Ingrid finish her sentence.

“But-”

“Now.” She grabbed Ingrid’s arm and pulled her out into the hallway and to the stairwell. Ingrid immediately regretted wearing heels that day and quickly pulled her shoes off, opting to carry them instead. Lauren urged her to hurry as she led a now barefoot Ingrid down the four flights of stairs to the ground floor parking garage.

“Where are we going?” Ingrid asked desperately.

“Getting you out of here,” she replied.

“But why? He’s not even here anymore,” the bewildered psychologist pointed out as Lauren pulled her to a shiny black sedan and ushered her into the passenger seat. “Hey!” Ingrid protested as the door slammed without a response from her receptionist.

“We don’t know that,” Lauren said as she hurriedly got into the driver’s seat and turned the key, peeling out of the parking garage as quickly as she could. She directed her phone assistant to call someone named Maria Hill. The robotic voice confirmed the call and the phone was answered before the first ring was finished.

“This is Hill,” said the steady, feminine voice on the other end of the line.

“Hill, this is Soren. We’ve had an incident,” Lauren said. Ingrid made a face.

“Soren?” she asked. Lauren just shook her head as a signal for her to be quiet.

“Who is that?” Hill asked, concern coloring her tone.

“One half of the incident,” was Lauren’s reply. “I have Dr. Hansen with me. She was confronted by Loki.”

There was a brief silence before a stern reply. “Get her here, now.”

“Already on it. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good.”

The call ended and Ingrid looked at Lauren questioningly. “Am I being kidnapped?” Ingrid asked. Lauren smirked.

“No Dr. Hansen, you’re not being kidnapped,” she said in a flat tone that only vaguely revealed her amusement.

“Then do you want to explain just what the hell is going on?” Ingrid said, anxiety now dissolving into irritation as she slipped her shoes back on her feet. “Starting with your real name.”

“I can explain everything once we reach our rendezvous point, but I can tell you that my name is Soren and I am not a secretary.”

“Oh, well that explains everything,” Ingrid said sarcastically. “I want to know what’s going on, now, before I go anywhere with you.”

Soren stopped the car at a stoplight abruptly and Ingrid’s seatbelt constricted painfully across her chest. The younger woman turned to look at her with a face devoid of any amusement, her brown eyes narrowed. “Look Doctor, I know you’re scared and confused, but I have been ordered to keep you safe. We aren’t sure what Loki wants or why, but we’re going to figure it out. Right now, you just have to trust me, okay?” Ingrid swallowed and nodded. “Good.”

Soren hit the gas as the light turned green.

“Can I at least ask where we’re going?”

“Greenwich Village.”

The hour and a half it took to get to the grey nondescript building would have been a mere forty-five minutes if not for the New York traffic. Ingrid thought mundanely about how traffic in large cities was awful no matter where you went. They pulled into a parking structure that appeared to be largely abandoned.

“I know, it’s pretty austere looking,” Soren said. “We just want to make sure we aren’t somewhere where he might hear us.” Ingrid couldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping into her chest as they parked next to a black SUV. Soren got out and looked around before gesturing for Ingrid to follow. She obeyed and they climbed into the backseat of the second vehicle.

“Glad you made it,” a woman in the driver’s seat said to Soren as the two of them slid into their seats. The interior of the car was neat, with all the bells and whistles and then some. It smelled like new leather, though it must have seen frequent use given how much it must have cost.

“Me too,” said Soren. “Dr. Hansen, this is Maria Hill.”

Maria turned to look at her and offered her hand. Ingrid shook it.

“Don’t worry, Doctor. We’ll take care of you,” she said with a reassuring smile. Ingrid tried to smile back, but only managed a grimace.

“I appreciate it.”

A tall man with cool brown skin and a patch over his left eye turned to greet them from the passenger seat. Ingrid watched all three of them closely, her apprehension only growing as more people were introduced into the equation.

“Am I under arrest?” she finally asked.

“No, you’re not,” the man said, turning to look at her with his single eye. “Dr. Hansen, my name is Nicholas Fury,” he said, shaking her hand. “Just call me Fury. I heard you’ve had quite the afternoon.”

“You could say that,” she replied. He smiled, though she sensed he was only trying to put her at ease. She set her jaw. “Are you with the FBI or something?” she asked.

“They wish,” Soren said.

“We represent an extra-governmental intelligence agency that’s been keeping tabs on persons of interest,” Fury explained. The vagueness of his explanation did nothing to calm Ingrid’s nerves.

“And I’m a person of interest?” she asked. Fury nodded. “Why? I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know,” Fury assured her. “It isn’t that you’ve done anything wrong, Dr. Hansen. We’ve seen your records. Graduated NYU after coming here from England after a boating accident killed your parents and nearly killed you too.”

Ingrid’s eyes went wide and she pressed herself into her seat, watching him carefully. “H-how did you-?”

“Like I said, intelligence agency.” His voice was smooth and calm, though she could not help but detect the barest hint of a warning through his words. Her mouth felt dry. She tried not to show her alarm, but she was certain they could all feel it pulsing through the air between them.

“But why me?” Ingrid pressed.

Fury and Hill exchanged a look, communicating all they needed to without a word. They must have worked together for a long time.

“Your accident corresponded with an unusual atmospheric event,” Fury began as he turned back to face her. “We wanted to make sure it was a coincidence.”

“That was thirteen years ago,” Ingrid reminded him. “You’ve watched me for that long?”

“Yes, and it turns out it was a damn good thing we did,” Fury replied with an edge of irritation. “I know this is difficult for you to understand, but after the events of the past several years, we couldn’t take any chances. The fact of the matter is that in our line of work, there are no coincidences. We don’t know what Loki wants, but we know that he came to you for a reason. It’s our job to figure out why.”

An overwhelming sense of dread filled her gut. Ingrid looked down at her lap, nervously wringing her hands together. “How can I help?” she asked quietly, looking back up at them.

“Why don’t you explain what happened today?” Fury said as he adjusted his posture to get comfortable.

Ingrid took a deep breath and told them how she had had an appointment with a man named Walter Lawson, everything he had told her, and how he was acting somewhat strangely, but nothing terribly unusual until he revealed himself to be Loki.

“He didn't hurt me, but I don't know if that means he wouldn't have,” she said. “And then Lauren...I mean, Soren, burst into the room.”

Fury squinted at Soren with his one eye. “The alias you picked was Lauren?” he asked skeptically.

Soren shrugged. “Rhymes are easy to remember.”

Fury shook his head and returned his gaze to Ingrid. “Is that all that happened? Seems strange that he would come looking for therapy, as much as I'm sure he could use it.”

“I’m sure it was a ruse,” Soren offered.

Ingrid frowned in thought. “But, he seemed sincere.”

“He’s the god of lies, a master manipulator. He knows just what to say and how to say it to get his way,” Hill reminded her.

“Yes, well I’m a doctor of psychology,” Ingrid said stubbornly. “I know what manipulation looks like.”

The three of them exchanged a look. “This isn’t a judgment of your abilities, Doc,” Fury said. “Loki could sell you oceanfront property in the Sahara desert and you’d thank him for it. He’s been at this a long time. Longer than any of us have been alive or even hope to live. I very much doubt he was telling you the truth.” He raised his brows expectantly as Ingrid considered this. Her pride deflated slightly. He had a point.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said.

All three breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” Fury said. “You’re sure nothing else happened during your appointment?”

“Yes,” Ingrid said. “I did get a headache in the middle of the appointment, but that isn’t out of the ordinary.”

“Do you get headaches often?” Fury asked.

She nodded. “I’ve gotten migraines a couple of times a month at least since my accident,” Soren and Hill exchanged a look at the mention of the accident.

“My mother got migraines,” he said. “I don’t envy you.”

“I’ve got some memory loss too,” she added.

“Sounds like something you should have checked out,” Hill suggested.

“I have,” Ingrid said. “CAT scans couldn’t find anything wrong. I guess it’s just one of those things.”

Hill, Fury, and Soren exchanged a quick look. “Must be,” the man said, looking back at Ingrid. “Dr. Hansen, I know you’ve had a harrowing day, but I’m afraid it’s not quite over yet.” She felt her stomach tighten. What more did they want from her? She was exhausted and her headache had continued to persist since the confrontation, and she had the distinct feeling of grime on her skin from running through a parking garage barefoot. “We’re going to have to insist that you stay in protective custody until you’re in the clear.”

“What?!” she exclaimed indignantly. She felt like he had just told her she was grounded. “But what about my patients?” she asked in desperation. “I can’t just leave them without explanation.”

“We’ll get it sorted out with you. Soren has told us that your practice is your pride and joy,” Hill said.

“Where am I supposed to stay?” The logistics were sending her reeling. She wasn’t prepared to drop a small fortune on a hotel room.

“We’ll take care of it,” Fury assured her. “The most important thing is that you’re safe.”

“I appreciate everything you’re all doing for me, but I’ll be fine if I go home,” Ingrid insisted. All three sets of eyes looked at her incredulously.

“With all due respect, Dr. Hansen, I don’t think you understand what this man is capable of,” Hill said, watching her closely. “We’ve arranged for a place for you to say where I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

“And where on earth is that?” she asked, her irritation growing more apparent.

Fury smirked. “We’re going to visit another contact of ours.”

[cutegirlmayra]

I saw that you probably aren’t doing fanfiction right now because of shutdown, but, if you are, I kind of have an idea, it’s sort of sad and based off of Shrek Forever After, but with a bit of Black Knight. After having an argument with Tails, he finds himself accidentally saying that he doesn’t need him and that he was better off without before them, after that, Sonic ends up in a world where his own friends don’t recognize him and he has to gain back their friendship.

(found here: (x) Please support the artist!)

Even if it’s not Black Knight AU, I thought the picture worked lol And yes, during shutdown, I don’t take anymore prompts BUT we’re out of shutdown now so here we go!

Oh, Shrek. You’ll live forever.

Prompt:

It wasn’t long before Tails flew over, dodging the smoke from the destroyed robots all piled like debris from the previous battle.

Sonic had launched quite a fearsome and fierce spindash that did a massive ping-pong effect throughout all of Eggman’s lone army.

They were sure the army was headed towards the city, and Sonic bolted ahead of his team to take of things while they worried and fretted over the defenses and other ‘boring’ lectures of planning that Sonic didn’t want to stick around for.

He dusted himself off as Tails landed by his side, his eyes showing the concern and annoyance in them.

“Soooniicc! You said we’d work together!” Tails protested, but Sonic just rolled his eyes, seeing the young fox boy bundled his fists together by his face and show his obvious disapproval of Sonic’s more... fast method... of stopping Eggman.

“What is everyone so upset about? I beat the army, and barely dropped a sweat!” he mimed gliding his finger down his arm and then flicking the imaginary ‘sweat’ into Tails’s face who flinched at and wrinkled his nose at the gesture.

“That’s not the point... you always rush off without us. We’re a team!” he hopped a little forward, trying to grab Sonic’s attention at the truth to his words, but Sonic just waved it off and kicked a sparking robot’s hand, who was reaching from the pile up towards the sky, twitching before Sonic knocked it out and it ripped from the pile and started sparking off in rolling dark humor...

Sonic smirked as Tails looked horrified at the image and then shook his head, “You’re too stubborn...”

Sonic’s head whipped up, looking strangely offended at that as he turned to Tails and stomped towards him, making the poor boy walk backwards and shocked to see his friend so aggressive all of a sudden.

“Stubborn? Stubborn!? I used to take down hundreds upon thousands of robots long before you all tagged along! And what now, huh!? You’re all the stubborn ones! I could have cleared through these zones to Eggman’s base, took down his stock of mechanical tyranny, ripped up his notebook schemes, and been back before you guys called out ‘Break!’.” he flung his arms about, and the strange behavior made Tails cower back slightly, on the verge of tears. However, Sonic was so lost in his frustration at feeling held back by his friends, that he kept going without even realizing the damage he was causing to his friendship... “Without you guys, I’d be saving countless lives, planets, and the sort without having to worry about saying, ‘What’s the plan, Tails’!?”

When he finally came to and looked to Tails, his wildly flinging hands slowly came down and so did the flame of his aggravation.

“Tails...” His eyes softened, seeing how frightened and hurt Tails appeared.

He had withdraw down and against the pile of scrap metal, his bottom lip quivering, and one hand held up over his face.

He rubbed the rolled up part of his glove over his now wetted nose as he held in his tears, getting up from leaning against the pile and bringing his tails up to his hands as though to hold them like a child would his security blanket. “We don’t mean to slow you down, Sonic... we just want to help... and we want to be apart of your adventures too.” He sniffled and took off, holding his hands over his eyes as to not let Sonic see how much his words affected him.

Sonic immediately regretted what he said, holding out his hand to him, “Wait... buddy...” his hand slowly came down and he turned around angry again, kicking more robots and spin-slashing into some on the ground, “Augh! What’s wrong with me!? I would never say that!” he slammed his foot against a particularly hard object, and jumped back in the pain. “Yee-ouch! Ow, ow, ow!” he held his foot in a comical, pogo-stick way before looking down at the strange, darkly colored orb object he had hit...

His eyes narrowed on it in curiosity, and then looked around. Tails was already flying back and crying to the others, no doubt being comforted after telling them all Sonic had said.

His face dropped again, as though not wanting to deal with that and feeling guilty over his outburst.

He was always a hothead, but tried to hide that as best he could from his friends. He was going crazy just sitting around talking all the time, and his jittery, antsy feet made him quick to the fuse...

Luckily, his love for his friends was more powerful than that... most of the time.

He sighed and dug through the rubble, deciding it best to go this journey alone, and pick up the strange, orbish ball.

“What do we have here?” it was about an inch smaller than Sonic’s head, but still rather large in his grasp. He moved it around, looking at it’s curves and seeing that it had rings of different colors around it’s glistening shades of black, purple, green, and pink. “A new Eggman toy? Ohhh~ Shiny!” he tried to cheer himself up, but looked back over his shoulder to see Amy and Knuckles, not looking happy, waddling through the debris of Eggman robots.

He pouted, “Uh oh... IIIIIII~ Really don’t want to deal with this.” he looked around for an escape route, and found one as he ducked his head and hid among the tin carcasses of Eggman’s army.

Burrowing as was his specialty of being a hedgehog, he heard Amy and Knuckles calling out in their search for him, and stuck his head out from a gap of two overlapping robots.

He peeked back and smiled, then brought out the orb before a sparking robot’s upper-half snapped some of its wires loose and it’s arm draped over him.

“Ah! Bad touch, bad touch!” he pushed through the gap as best he could and tried to kick the arm off of him... but what he didn’t see... was that the sparks smacked against the orb... and made it glow.

“Soooniicc!” Knuckles’s and Amy’s voices rang over his desperate attempts to get the sparking dead robot off of his stuck leg, and panicked when he saw Amy look over and point towards him. “There he is!”

“Wha? Grr..!!! Sooonic!” Knuckles’s immediate glare, followed by him hunching down and stomping over to his location made him freak out even more.

“Eee..!” His mouth stretched back to reveal he was getting caught, but finally put the orb over his head and cried out, “Being me would be so much easier if I wasn’t stuck with you!” he was talking about the robot, but the orb burst like a bomb into a swirl of techno-colors.

Sonic felt himself falling slowly through the gleaming black as his hands whipped out to try and ‘swim’ or pull himself upward.

“W-what’s..? What’s going on!?”

It replayed some of Sonic’s words around him, showing him through another set of eyes... blurry with tears.

“Tails...” his expression changed, his hands stopped fighting the pull downwards... almost like Alice falling through the rabbit hole.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do!” Sonic’s voice shouted through the muffled orb.

“I... I didn’t mean it like that, Amy...” He felt himself sinking a little faster, hearing his words from days passed.

“Stop saying I care so much! I only care if I’m having fun doing it!” another image of him looking snarky and confident.

“Man... Do I really sound that annoyingly arrogant?” Sonic’s head kept swishing back and forth at all the images and the words began to echo in a cacophony of incoherent statements as Sonic tried to plug his ears and his feet kicked the air. “No... Nooo... Nooo!!!” he cried out as he fell faster and faster into the dark.

“Hey, hey mister, are you alright?”

Sonic blinked his eyes, mumbling as though coming too from a nightmare.

Tails was looking over him, watching him stir.

“Uhhh...” He leaned up, having a hand on his face, “Sorry about earlier, buddy... I really let you have it, huh?” after thinking he was electrocuted and possibly passed out, he shook his head and started getting up, apologizing. “You know I couldn’t do half the amazing things I do without a little bit of your own style thrown in there, right?” he gave him a thumbs up, but weakly so, still coming too and hunched over from the trauma. “H-hey? Where’s Eggman’s robots?”

“Huh?” Tails leaned back up, “Buddy? Look, mister... You’re Sonic The Hedgehog. You don’t have any ‘buddies’.” he put his hands to his hips, “Anyway, you beat down Eggman again, so I guess this means your out of here and on to the next thing. I won’t bother you too much, just wanted to make sure you were okay, but it looks like you were napping.” He turned behind him, waving to a crowd that had formed around the city. “Heeey! He’s okay!” Tails waved to them, calling out.

They all looked relieved and cheered, before dispersing rather quickly back into the city.

“H-huh?” Sonic looked confused, but Tails just turned around and nodded to him.

“Okay, I know how you roll, so I’ll take off now and simply say, Take care!” he took off without another word, waving slightly to him as though he was a stranger...

“W-wait, Tails! I said I was sorry, don’t pull this on me! Come on, bud!” Sonic reached out to him, racing after him as Tails looked weirded out by him following him.

He looked under him and made a face, “Umm...”

“We can sort this out! We’ve gotten through way worse than a little outburst.” Sonic shrugged, but Tails still seemed weary of him.

“L-look, you may have hit your head pretty hard against those robots, but I don’t know you. No one really does, but we all know you’re Sonic! Legendary and lone hero! You sure do clean up those baddies real fast though, see you at a distance!” he waved him off again and took off even faster.

Seeing how desperately Tails wanted to get away from him, Sonic slowed down and looked extremely broken, as though not able to quite function under this odd predicument.

“What’s... going on?” he looked at his hand, “Tails wouldn’t play around like this... he loves spending time with me.” He flexed out his hand, the one that had blown up with the supposed ‘explosion’ but saw no sign of blast... not even ash on his pristine white glove.

“...Amy.” He looked around and saw her heading back with the crowd, “Amy!” he dashed towards her, “What’s going on with Tails? Is he really that mad at me?”

“H-huh?” She looked taken-aback that he was there, and immediately started flipping out in silence, fangirling and putting her hands up to her face as though she had just ran into a celebrity. She pulled out her phone and posed, “Could you sign this?” the photo came out of the phone and she clicked a button for a pen to also drop like a plug from inside it.

“W-what?” He sweatdropped, pulling away from her slowly and looking her in the eyes, searching for an answer. “Amy... it’s me... Come on, not you too!” he flopped his arms out towards her, “Amy! Stop it! This is going too far!”

She withdrew her phone-pen and photo. “O-oh, right, sorry! I know you like to be the lone, mysterious Sonic The Hedgehog who doesn’t need any help! I’ll go now! But... I love you!” she waved and ran by him, hurrying away as other girls stopped her and offered money for the photo but she guarded it by summoning her hammer, making--or rather--forcing her way through the crowd that came at her.

“It’s mine! All mine! Get your own!” 

Others started taking photos of Sonic as a response.

The flashes overwhelmed him, making his mind spin as he turned around to try and find more familiar faces... but they were all strangers... every... one of... them...

“No.” he gripped his head, “No, no... Knuckles... Knuckles!!” he sped so fast through the people that some girls had to hold their dresses or long skirts down from his wind blast.

Upon reaching Angel Island, Sonic panted and gripped his chest, “Knuckles, it’s awful!” he held up the Chaos Emerald he had before the blast... teleporting once safely away from the city...

“HEEEY!” Knuckles woke up from his nap, then seeing the emerald, rubbed his eyes in disbelief and angrily looked to his pedestal. Sure enough, one Chaos Emerald was missing...

In absolute hostile rage, he lowered his head, gritting his teeth.

He slowly turned his flaming eyes towards Sonic, getting up and twitching his fists into pounding against the ground, as though a racer, like a bull, readying to charge off into the fray...

“Everyone’s acting like I’m some kind of lone ranger, it’s creeping me ou-FFPH!” he was slammed into by Knuckles’s head ramming into his stomach.

Getting taken off-guard, Sonic rolled back and jammed his back into a tree, spiking it with his two angled spikes at the force. He was briefly knocked out, but coming back, he rose his head and shook it, blinking his eyes and then struggling to get out from the tree. It was clear he looked like a turtle stuck on his shell, trying to get up and kick his feet out to do so, but his back quills were too deeply embedded in the tree.

‘Geez,’ he worriedly thought to himself, ‘Knuckles, even at his worst, wouldn’t hit that hard knowing it was me.’ He looked back as Knuckles slammed another fist into the side of the tree, barely missing Sonic as he held the Chaos Emerald in up in his other hand.

“Now you listen here, blue punk.” He spat out as his head got dangerously close to Sonic’s, “I already have to deal with that no-good bat girl and that deranged, psychotic Eggface! I don’t need another so-called ‘hero’ thinking he can just walk up to MY ISLAND and take what he sees fit!” he cracked his two-spikes on his glove out from the tree’s now tilted bark. “Hmph, now get off my island! I don’t like your kind around here... Always parading your victories, running off after the praise and never caring about anyone else but yourself! Your kind make me sick!”

He walked briskly back to his shrine, but freaked out when the Master Emerald was gone, “AH! MY EMERALD!” he dropped the Chaos Emerald and gripped his head, then panicked and picked it back up, turning to Sonic. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY PRECIOUS EMERALD?”

Throughout the day, Sonic had to regain their trust, and even convince Eggman that he knew Sonic...

Eggman knew him as his life-long, hated adversary but...

“I hardly actually know you. You hate water? Does that... like... count?” He shrugged from his eggmobile. “Wait, wait! Are you..? Are you saying you at last wish to join forces and be friends!?” He pulled out a party blower and horn, releasing fireworks but Sonic shook his head.

“I...” He looked to Tails, Knuckles, and Amy... who he had kinda dragged along this wild ride...

They looked at him like he was strange and this was all odd, and it hurt his heart to see it.

He fell to his knees, “I... I don’t know how I got any of you as friends... and I know I don’t say it enough but... I’m so grateful I have you.” He hit the ground.

Eggman looked a little confused too, shifting his eyes, “Umm... What?”

He didn’t understand the jibber-jabber so he just took a canon to fire at him from below his Eggmobile.

Sonic didn’t even bother to dodge... but as the black canon fired... the black, purple, green, and pink lights within it made it look strangely familiar...

Amy summoned her hammer and hit the canon up into the air, “You leave Sonic alone!” she stated, as he looked up to her, already to weak in his emotions to do anything else.

“Grr... he may be a bratt, but he’s a lonely bratt, regardless!” Knuckles punched his fists together, standing up beside Amy and getting ready for a brawl. “So butt out of his business! Nah, do me one better, butt out of everyone’s business! Especially my own!” he must have been referring to the world and his own Master Emerald crisis...

“And I-!” Tails stood forward, but looking to Sonic, it almost seemed like he didn’t know what to say.

Sonic looked away, not expecting this Tails to say anything.

“...I think he needs us.” Tails nodded with a soft, sad smile, then turned back to Eggman with all the force a young child would have in wanting to defeat evil and tyranny. “You’re a bully! I’ll show you what Sonic inspires! In all of us!”

The three were about to fight, but the ‘canon-ball’ came flying down and bonked Sonic on the head.

When he came too, he was surrounded by Tails, Knuckles, and Amy... all were leaning over him, trying to wake him up.

“Sonic! Sonic, wake up!”

“H-huh?” He opened his eyes, not sure what was going on again, but saw the heap of robots and then looked to see his friends, grabbing their shoulders.

“You know me!?”

They all seemed worried, “Well, of course we know you!” Amy laughed, “Silly! We were worried when we saw the blast! Tails said you two had a fight...”

“Well, he fought.” Tails looked away, a little sheepishly.

“Nevermind that, tell me, you punk!” Knuckles gripped Sonic up and held him up to his face, “What gives you the right to shout in people’s faces, huh!? Show a little more respect for those who actually care about your safety and success, alriiighhttt!?!!?” Sonic wasn’t even phased by Knuckles’s scolding, he was too wrapped up in the joy of figuring out these guys were his actual friends.

“I LOVE YOU GUYS!” Sonic threw his hands up and Knuckles set him down gently, creeped out by his bold and... strangely out-of-character declaration.

“Uhhh....” Knuckles moved away from him, letting him slightly go but keeping his fists on him for good measure. “That blast hit your head too hard or somethin’?”

“Oh my!” Amy quickly jumped up and put her hand to his forehead, “Sonic! That nasty blast really did knock you out pretty badly, didn’t it?”

“Amy!” He gripped her and Knuckles into a hug, “You’re all the best!” he laughed, and they all looked a little odd being under his arms like this...

“Tails..!” He looked to Tails, then quieted down and approached him in a calm manner. Tails was still acting shy...

“I’m so sorry, Tails.” His eyelids dropped and he came very humbly over to him. “You were my first real friend, and I didn’t understand how much your friendship changed my life... you put up with me a lot, heh... and for that, I’ll forever be grateful to you, buddy. Honestly... I know I don’t speak my heart very much but...” He raised a hand slowly to him, before letting it flop on the little fox’s head, who giggled at the ruffling it gave his fur. “You’re the bestest friend a guy could ever ask for... I wouldn’t be the hero I am today without you.”

Tails held his hand on his head and looked cutely up to him.

He jumped into him and they hugged, as Amy and Knuckles also looked thrilled that the two made-up, and Amy placed her hands together and by the side of her cheek, leaning towards it.

“Aww, brotherly love!” She cheered, admiringly, but Knuckles just rolled his eyes as if justifying this weird behavior of Sonic’s wasn’t the right way to act about it.

“Alright, so he hit his head and now he’s soft... is that really a good thing?”

“W-we should probably get your head looked at, Sonic.” Tails pulled away slightly as Sonic went to rub his head in embarrassment, but flinched from the pain and the others immediately flocked him to check out further injuries.

“Don’t move! And I know that sounds like a death sentence, but just remain still!” Knuckles argued.

“I’ve got bandages!” Amy quickly began to wrap his head as Tails helped him to sit and pulled out some water.

“Here, you must feel really awful after that short-fuse... Maybe even lightheaded too, just relax for a second, okay? We’ll have you better in no time!”

Amazed by the kindness he never really saw beforehand, he rubbed his wetted nose and glossy eyes against his glove as Tails once did, and allowed his friends to take care of him...

His... true friends.

He would never wish to part from them again.

And from here on out, he never seemed to have an issue holding in his temper either!

[exhaustedfander]

Can I request a Moceit fic where Janus is trying to impress Patton, it fails each time, but they get together anyway?

Here ya go! This was a fun one to write, I absolutely adore these two! Feedback and reblogs are really appreciated, have a nice day/night! 

a03 link

My writing masterpost

word count: 2,196

To Woo Morality [Moceit]

It was stupid, really, to think that winning Patton’s heart would be an easy endeavor. It’s not as though they’ve been on the best of terms for most of their existence, indeed they’d been considered enemies for some time. Just because Janus was now accepted by Patton and he’d received an apology card from Patton for everything that had been between them – it really was a nice card – didn’t mean that they were immediately on the best of terms.

Janus didn’t mean to fall for Patton. Any positive feelings he’d felt for the moral side in the past had quickly been pushed to the back of his mind; Jesus, Janus should’ve known better than to think repression would work. But now that they’ve been spending a lot more time with one another, Janus can no longer ignore the affection that blooms in his chest when he’s in Patton’s presence.

At first, he’d been under the impression that even if they were becoming friends, Patton would want nothing to do with him in a romantic-sense. They’d just be pals, and Janus’s heart would just have to burn a little more with each passing minute together. Except…recently, Janus has noticed a shift between them. It could be in his head, though he highly doubts that, but it seems as though Patton has seemed somewhat more nervous in his presence. It’s little things, hands accidentally making contact earning a blush, lingering hugs that the moral side just seems to melt into, passing glances that clutch at Janus’s heart and a look in Patton’s eyes that he prays is admiration.

For some time, Janus has been telling himself that perusing Patton is a horrifically bad idea. He and the others are by no means on good terms. Logan tolerates him as far as he’s aware, but he has impersonated him a few times now. Things are decidedly very shitty between him and Roman, and conversations between him and Virgil usually end in hissy-fits. Remus has been a friend to Janus for some time now, someone who while strange and quite a bit to deal with also knows him better than most, so having his company is somewhat of a relief. He’d like to tell Remus of his feelings for Patton, but if he knows his friend, and he does, it will only end in an onslaught of teasing and Remus running to Patton blabbering. That just won’t do.

The idea of the others knowing of his feelings for Patton was something that, truthfully, concerned Janus. They're fiercely protective of their fatherly figment; who wouldn’t be? It had held him back, thinking of how they’d react. But it’s those moments of hesitation, lingering hands, lingering eyes that push Janus over the deep end. He’ll seduce Patton or die trying. The only question is how.

Janus’s first attempt is a gift. Nothing fancy, but rather innocuous and simple in case things go belly-up. Unfortunately, they do.

“Aw, Jan, you’re too sweet,” Patton coos, holding up the frog stuffed animal with a gleam in his eyes that Janus foolishly sees as promising. Patton sets the plushie down and wraps him in a tight hug.

“I’m so lucky to have such a good friend!” Yikes. That’s not quite what Janus was hoping for.

“Likewise, I’m pleased to call you my friend as well,” Janus says as he pulls away, far smoother than he assumed the words would come out. “I’m glad you like it.”

And then, Janus is back to scheming. The only problem is, he's never been very good at scheming. Sure, he might seem like the type to pull together an elaborate plot, but most of his best work is done on the fly. But impressing Patton can’t be improvised, he tells himself angrily, passing the length of his bedroom, it has to be perfect. So he thinks. And he plans. And he overthinks.

“A picnic?” Patton asks, excitedly. Janus grins, already proud of this plan.

“Yes, if you’d like to join me,” Janus offers, suave. Yes, this will be fine.

“Well, I’d love to, kiddo,” Patton says energetically, and Janus tries his best not to wince at the “kiddo”, “Only…you’re talking about picnicking in the imagination, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Janus replies.

Roman and Remus’s realm is the perfect place for a romantic picnic. With lush, rolling hills of green and skies as blue and beautiful as baroque paintings, it’s the best place Janus can think to woo the moral side. There are fantastical beasts, most of which harmless, at least on Roman’s side of the imagination (save for the dragon witch, but she hasn’t been seen for some time). They’d be sure to steer clear of Remus’s more unruly section of the realm. But then he catches the look on Patton's face.

“Is there a problem?” Patton huffs, fiddling with the end of his shirt. Goodness, that’s not a good sign.

“Oh, I’m just worried it might upset Roman,” Patton explains, “I know you two still have a lot to work out. And Remus’s side…well, I’m not too sure if I want to encounter anymore of the horrific monsters that live there. Once is enough for me.” Damn it, why did Remus ever have to drag Patton on a quest, and why in the world had Patton agreed?!

“Ah, that’s…understandable.” Janus set the picnic basket down, trying to hide the hurt that was surely showing on his face. For a liar, he sure was getting bad at masking his emotions.

“Oh, Jan, I didn’t mean to make you sad! I’d love to still have the picnic, if you still want to. Just somewhere else, maybe?” Janus does what he can to hide how deflated he feels, nodding and forcing on a smile.

“Sure, Patton. The common room, or one of our rooms, perhaps?” Janus flinches as Patton grips onto his wrist. His grasp isn’t hard or painful, just startling.

“C’mon, let’s go to the common room. Maybe someone else will want to join us too.” Janus couldn’t shake the hurt that sentence provoked if he wanted to. Even so, he picks up the picnic basket again and allows Patton to lead him away.

Later Janus sits at his desk, his head in his hands. Why does it have to be so hard? Why can’t his efforts be enough? He’s seen it, surely, he’s seen a twinkle in Patton’s eyes that has to mean something. Or maybe he’s just been far too optimistic. Perhaps the idea of Patton having any interest in him is absolutely preposterous.

Plans flutter through Janus’s mind, gifts he could give, attention he could provide him, but none of it matters in the end. It’s all sure to fail – god, when did he get so depressing?

Janus sighs looking at the clock: nearly 12 am now. He’s been holing himself up in his room since the picnic. At least Patton seemed to be having fun, and Logan even joined them for a bit. That certainly didn’t thrill Janus, but the smile it brought to Patton was something he couldn’t discredit.

Reasonably, it’s too late for a snack. But he’s also imaginary, and moreover, doesn’t really give a shit.

He doesn’t expect to find Patton in the kitchen and considers turning on his heel before the moral side catches sight of him.

“Oh, hiya, Janus,” he greets, friendly as ever, “What are you doing up so late?” Janus bites back a sigh, walking into the kitchen and eyeing Patton.

“I could ask you the very same question.” Patton giggled sheepishly.

"I suppose you could. I couldn’t manage to fall asleep, and I’ve always heard warm milk might do the trick,” Patton explains, holding up a mug, “But boy, this stuff’s nasty. It’s no cowincidence I’ve never been much of a fan.” Janus chuckles lightly, leaning against the kitchen counter. “So, what about you? What brings you to the kitchen this time of night?” “Same as you, I suppose,” Janus says, hoping Patton won’t challenge his vagueness, “I found difficulty sleeping.” That isn’t entirely untrue. Perhaps it was because he was getting lost in his failed plans, but Janus still hadn’t been able to sleep. It seems that Janus has lost his desire for a snack, as seeing Patton is only upsetting him more. He doesn’t want to be like this, so at the mercy of his emotions, and it’s driving him near-insane.

“I think maybe I’ll try again, though. Goodnight, Patton.” “Wait.” Janus pauses in the doorway, turning back to see Patton worrying his bottom lip.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Patton sounds uncharacteristically anxious, something that strikes Janus as odd, “I just wanted to…thank you, I guess.” Janus quirks an eyebrow.

“Thank me?” “For being so sweet lately,” Patton clarifies with a flickering smile, “I mean, you’ve been so nice, getting me things, and having a picnic, and just sitting and talking with me as much as you do. Things were so bad between us for so long, I know I’m a lot of the reason why –.”

“We’ve already had this conversation before, Patton. It’s okay,” Janus interjects.

“I know we have, but it doesn’t make me any less sorry. But I feel really lucky that we get to hang out as much as we do now. It’s really nice, you make excellent company.”

Janus half expects himself to fall into a love declaration right then and there. Patton, always so kind and well-meaning, is thanking him for all the extra work he’s been putting in trying to get Patton to notice him. Evidently, he has noticed him, just maybe not as much as Janus wants. It’s selfish, he realizes, to desire so much, so soon. He needs to stop his futile attempts to win Patton’s heart and simply enjoy what he can get.

“It’s not nearly the same as everything you’ve done for me,” Patton splutters, pulling something out of his pocket and pressing it into Janus’s gloved-hand, “But I made you this.”

Janus looks down at the blue and yellow bracelet, the two colors woven tightly together. Janus half expects to start weeping because, yes, this is a friendship bracelet, but it’s also something that Patton has made for the others, but never him.

“I hope you like it,” Patton says nervously, messing with the sleeves of the cardigan tied over his shoulders. Janus slips the bracelet onto his wrist and, in a very un-Janus-like fashion, engulfs Patton in a tight embrace. Patton lets out a sound of surprise before sinking into the hug, pressing his face into the crook of Janus’s neck.

“I love it,” Janus breaths out, feeling like the luckiest side in the world just to be holding Patton, “Thank you.”

“Of course, I-I’m glad you like it,” Patton manages to sputter out. The hug drags on far too long to be considered platonic. Neither men let go.

“Janus…” Patton trails off, letting go of Janus’s back and instead cupping his face in his hands. Janus could feel the moral side’s hands beginning to tremble. He waits a moment, wondering if Patton has more to say, feeling as though his heart might just beat out of his chest before it's unanimously decided action will speak much louder than words.

The kiss begins feather light, just the slightest brush of the lips before Janus’s fingers dig into Patton’s curls, pulling him as close as possible. There they stand in the low-light of the kitchen, kissing and holding onto one another as if the other might disappear if they let go. Unfortunately, the need for oxygen eventually arises and the two part briefly, smiling wide. Patton ducks his head against Janus’s chest, still holding close to him.

“Wow…” is all that Janus can think to say. Patton giggles.

“Wow is right. I was so worried that you didn’t feel the way I did.” Janus chuckles lightly at that, carding a hand through Patton’s hair.

“That's funny, considering it’s not like I’ve been trying to get your attention for some time.” Patton let out a noise of confusion before catching on.

“Oh, Jan, honey. You could’ve just told me.” Oh, he already likes the sound of Patton calling him “honey.”

“In all fairness, you could’ve told me yourself.” Patton laughs again, pressing his lips to Janus’s again, lighter but much of the heat is still there.

“I guess you’re right. We were being silly, dancing around each other, huh?” Janus hums in response, a content, relaxed sound. “Why don’t you try and get some rest now? You sound tired.”

“Come with me,” Janus requests. It’s suddenly so easy to ask, so easy to show Patton how much he cares for him and desires to be in his company. “You look quite tired yourself.”

“Okay, Jan,” Patton says, releasing him from his grasp before lacing their fingers together. The pair walk hand-in-hand to Janus’s room, both smiling wider than they have in quite some time.

As it turns out, Janus’s plans were not a complete waste of his time. He’s relived there’s no need for anymore scheming, though. He’s got everything he’d ever been searching for.

=+=

[writingonesdreams]

Between Spirits and Humans p.2

Part 1

Genres: apocalyptic | fantasy | romance | drama | slice of life | magic | dragons

Setting: An alternate apocalyptic world ruled by magical beings, where humans are almost extinct. The earth is tired, dark and dry and the only liveable places are the forests controlled by rather unfriendly spirits.

Synopsis: Two sisters, trying to survive, stumble on a grumpy but almighty shape-shifting spirit. Their meeting might save the dying world they share.

Themes: torn between worlds | apathetic spirit like dragons | human capacity for feelings | magic | learning from each other | healing a dying world

After his fight with Acacia he was at a loss of what to do. He wasn’t sure how humans mended their conflicts. Spirits fought their feuds out or ignored them for a couple of centuries until they faded into nothingness. None of those would work with her for obvious reasons.

Besides he wasn’t sure he wanted to reconcile. He wasn’t in the wrong after all.

Yet he felt this weird pressure in his chest and the tension in the air he really didn’t want to think too much about. They were in his forest, so they should at least have the decency not to be angry with him, right?

Kye avoided them for a couple of days, confused by the responses of his human body. By the emotions that weren’t all that pleasant anymore. Between his desire to see them and his resolution not to until...he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

But their absence in his days weighted on him in a particular way, one he was very much not used to feeling. To escape, he took on one of his favourite raven forms. Small animal with smaller scale of emotional perception - just instincts and images he could lose himself in, forget what his much more advanced mind wanted to think about.

Maybe that was why he didn’t question where his wings carried him. He perched on trees that grew closer and closer until he found himself on a familiar clearing.

“Look, sister, who came!” The younger girl’s voice sounded close.

And so happy, welcoming.

“Oh great.”

The older girl’s voice was more...annoyed? The raven’s mind didn’t distinguish between tones that well.

Flopping down from the tree, he hopped warily nearer. His instincts were telling him to go, to follow the call to draw closer.

Reaching the soft blanket where the girls were sitting, turned his head sideways, clapping his beak in curiosity.

“Kye! We didn’t see you in so long. How have you been?”

He didn’t understand everything about that sentence, but the warmth of it sickered through, so he hopped to her, until he was perched on her knee. Her small clumsy hands went right to his features, stroking him in a obtrusive but not entirely unpleasant way.

He lost himself in this moment, thankful his human form wasn’t around to feel all the complexity of the situation. Skipping from one leg to the next, croaking on occasion as the girls talked, their stances relaxed, he felt comfort and sense of rightness he dearly missed.

Until he found himself sitting in Acacia’s lap, wings fluttering and croaking until she dived her fingers into his thick black feathers.

“This is a weird way to apologize, you know.” She said, but her tone was softer than before. He didn’t want to ponder who was supposed to apologize to whom anymore.

The beauty of the raven’s mind was not to question things, when they felt right.

###

Acacia has taken to show him other human creations. Books she carried with her despite their weight, poetry on pages so old they could fall apart any minute. So fragile, all these creations. So diverse in their expression, in the art.

She told him about her favourite songs, the ones she learned from her mother or heard in passing a village. Told him about old legends and famous stories about beats and demons from forests, about princes and princess and magic.

Kye realized even more now she loved the human world. Or maybe she was fascinated by everything, her mind open, her eyes curious if not as wide as her sister’s. Not as naive.

There was darkness sometimes, lurking in the corners, memories she resented or suppressed. Human world wasn’t all beauty after all.

But then, the spirit world wasn’t either.

###

“You want to do what now?”

“Stop being so dramatic. We haven’t gathered for four centuries now, it isn’t a bad time.”

“Well, yes but...you always insist that visiting and gathering has to have a purpose and a problem to solve. Excuse me, for being surprised.”  

“I would have excused you being more excited.”

Wes grinned at that. “I am. If for nothing else, then for the shock of your brothers, when I tell them of the invitation.”

His brothers. He didn’t see them for so long now. All grown up dragons with scales in various rich dark shades. Kye didn’t feel anything special about having them, their existence was something to be accepted not felt. But after spending so much time with the sisters, he was curious about seeing them again. How it might feel different this time.

“Your perspective changed. And they always followed your lead.”

Kye nodded at the white spirit. He was the oldest of his clan, so it was only logical. If there were any implications to this, they both omitted to elaborate.

###

“You really have to try this.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Acacia held her arms stretched open to him. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”

She has lately got into the habit of educating him into more and more of human habits and rituals. Kye was sure she was scheming something again.

Reluctantly he stretched his amrs to the stubborn human girl with shiny hair and eyes sparkling with mirth. Nike sat down opposite them as if something really magnificent was about to happen.

Acacia guided one of his hands on her shoulder and the other on her waist. She brought them so close his breath hitched in his chest in shock.

Then her lips parted and she started to sing. Softly at first as she made the first step, leading him into the unfamiliar movement, but bolder when he followed. The melody he knew from listening to her and Nike when at night, but never heard as a whole, never so loud and clear. It was melodic, filled with vigour and little gentler passages. Lively and yet thoughtful, nostalgic about a world that once was and how it could be again.

Kye didn’t take long to recognize the repetitive patterns in the steps – he would know what to do the next time.

###

„You want to leave?“

„No! Of course not.“ she cleared her throat, stringing her hands together in uncharacteristic gesture. „Leaving sounds so fatal. I just want a little visit.“

He wasn’t sure what to think of that. „But the conclave is in a few days.“ Kye was looking forward to it, to introducing them, to showing her spirits could be welcoming too. If she wasn’t there to see it, why was he doing it again?

„We would be back by then.“

He turned his gaze sharply towards her in time to see her snicker at him.

WE. Acacia wanted him to come with her. The tightness in his chest loosened at the realization, but he still frowned at her.

„Spirits don’t fare well with human settlements.“

„You won’t go there as a spirit either.“ Her whole face was brightening at this point, in a flare he found hard to resist.

„And who will watch over Nike?“

„Wes offered himself.“ Kye glared at the general direction of the white dragon spirit’s territory as if he could feel his annoyance through the trees. When did these two get acquainted? He couldn’t picture a more troublesome combination.

“Come on, it will be fun! I haven’t seen any people in so long! And I want to show you all the cool stuff humans can do – songs played on instruments, carvings into clay instead of wood, all the things that can be done with metal…”

Their desires mirrored each other. He understood then, and maybe that’s what decided for him.

###

Being outside of his forest felt wrong to him. Leaving the safety of the trees, of the familiar borders and his trademark magic covering everything, he felt strangely exposed and disconnected. He wouldn’t have gotten very far if Acacia wasn’t holding his hand.

Kye tried not to let it show in light of her triumph as she resolutely dragged him in the direction, where land turned from green to colorful and trees grew in formations instead of natural distances.

There were very little humans left, but they still left their touch on the earth however they could. Cultivating their fields, planting plants for food, shade and cover.

The houses in the village were tightly hanging on each other for support and the amount of smoke was rare – as if not all households could afford it. The streets were dusty and humans on them were sickly and ragged. Kye thought he knew how humans differed from spirits by watching the sisters for so long, but Acacia stood out even here.

The spring in her step and delight in her face were hard to miss, drawing attention.

Maybe too much attention.

The human that jumped at them from behind the bridge is quick and unhesitant, with a knife pointed at her back. Kye reacted before he thought, catching his hand, the knife falling from the thief’s grasp.

The thief cried out, furry and redness in his eyes. 

Even for survival they act on emotion. This wasn’t a cold-blooded calculated attack. Acacia wasn’t richly dressed or carrying anything of much worth. And yet he jumped, reacting to strength, spark and life.

Kye felt pity for the poor creature for charging to such wasteful death. For not being able to put the danger together, when reaching for something that wasn’t his to take.

The thief wailed as the crushing pain of his hand brought him to his knees. 

Acacia reached for him then, touching his shoulder lightly. “It’s okay. Please don’t hurt him.”

Now that was logic he didn’t even remotely understand. When someone attacked something precious of yours, you had to put him in his place. You had to attack back, or they wouldn’t stop coming.

And this man knew the rules when he jumped, Kye was sure.

But Acacia’s eyes were bleeding with emotion, so the spirit let him go.

###

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, looking away.

Kye chuckled at that. “He attacked you and you apologize to me?”

“That you had to see that side. They are desperate and poor, many have to go for months without feeling properly seated.” She didn’t disown them, no matter how much they betray or hurt her. He wondered about that, this loyalty, this compassion.

“I’m glad I went. Makes me feel a bit closer to you.”

She raised her head to him in question.

“We are more similar than I thought. Territory, survival, power – you also fight for those between each other.” Acacia looked away again, her face contorting. 

“We have done that for centuries until there was too much land to divide. We have fallen into a truce, but we have given up on many things you humans cling to.” He thinks of the hatred in the thief’s eyes. It wasn’t to steal food, it was to steal what little brightness he saw.

Irrational. 

A spirit would never act on such a reason. Never would have let an emotion like that creep in. Wouldn’t have felt anything.

He looked at the bright girl at his side.

A regular sprit wouldn’t have known what to be jealous of.

###

Seeing all the spirits that came scowling and glaring, if he really didn’t have anything better to do than wake them up from their slumbers was surprisingly funny.

They were all suspicious. They all questioned. What was going on?

But none dared to say anything on Kye’s territory. The oldest black dragon was the strongest in his forest, and they couldn’t compare in power, age or experience.

But Kye didn’t see them in just those terms only anymore. They weren’t just threats or annoyances. They were all similar, living, breathing, wondering what they should do with all the time they have been given. And he found himself feeling for them.

Especially the youngest of his brothers, Hec, only few centuries old, looked like a child. Reminded him of Nike so bad and yet he didn’t know how to reach out to him, how to bridge the years of ignorance. Something had to be done differently to change this.

So he did what he felt like doing instead of what he thought.  

He brought Acacia to the conclave. Nike hanging right on her toes. If the spirits weren’t scandalized enough before, they were now. Humans on a spirit conclave, the audacity.

When he stopped to introduce Nike to Hec and the little girl eyed the grim looking spirit with a child’s face, he could see a range of emotions – from shock to disturbance to frustration to wonder and curiousity. It felt somehow right.

And when he took Acacia’s hand and danced with her the way she taught him, no one even dared to breathe. If they wanted to protest, the sight of Wes silenced them. The white dragon spirit was the only other one measureable in size with the black one. And he was grinning, his approval given.

Kye danced and dared and smiled that day, amused and shaken and somehow hopeful, seeing all the movement at play.

###

She was surprised how at home she felt with them. In their human forms they didn’t feel so foreign, even though she felt the pressure of their presence as something tangible in the air.

In Kye’s arms though she felt secure and her curiosity won over her fear. The spirits could be so human when they wanted. Maybe they weren’t so different after all, just like Kye said.

Or maybe she was changing.

Wondering past the forest borders the next day, Acacia tried to analyze every face and voice from the conclave, burn it into her memory. It was special even if it was so tense and quite.  She enjoyed it, didn’t feel out of place. How was that possible?

At first the forest has been about survival, but it grew into a home and she loved everything and everyone in it. It was the opposite with the human village she visited last time – the reek of desperation and spiteful anger felt so foreign and wrong to her now. She should have moved on long ago, should have struggled, cast away bit more of her consciousness and ideals to keep a child safe. Was it alright if Nike didn’t grow up among her own?

But what would she lose, really? She would have had to change, transform beyond her age and innocence. Adapted to the challenges of the human world. Or died. Neither sounded appealing.

Seeing her play with the spirit boy, even if he was a another kind of being with a completely different age and maturity – it was heartwarming. If Nike could play and smile like this and grow up safely, what was the harm?

Maybe she shouldn’t have to feel to guilty for wanting to stay.

When she felt insecure and torn like this, Acacia wanted to be alone. To escape the forest’s constant surveillance, the possibility of never being lonely, to sort herself out. So she kneeled down in the middle of the thin wilted sunflower field and sang.

Sang her heart out, stringing words together as they came to her, melodies she invented on the spot or combined from the old she knew.

She closed her eyes and spoke her soul to the earth.

When she opened them the sunflowers surrounded her. They grew! Grew higher than her, thickly around her, as if wanting to drink more of her voice.

The joy of such a miracle mixing with disbelief she ran through the field and tried again. Everywhere she touched, melody on her lips, the flowers responded, raised, reached out to the sky to meet her.

She felt the tears as she run and sang until she couldn’t find her voice anymore.

###

“How? How is this possible?” Kye was pacing around in circles by the boarders. He kept his voice low the whole day, pretended to be calm and knowing when the girls asked him for an explanation. But at night he needed to talk and Wes was always there to listen.

“She has been around you a lot. Your magic sickers into everything inside the forest. Doesn’t it make sense it lingers on them too?”

“But she is human! Having spirit magic…”

“Many things have changed with your meeting, Kye. She woke you up. You gathered the spirits. Now they are moving, visiting, restless to be doing something again after centuries of monotony. You two break the rules all the time,” the light haired spirit chuckled, “not that I am complaining.”

Kye stopped then, leaning his hand on a tree bark, feeling light-headed. “But her humanity…”

“Has influenced you as well. You are going by a name now. You invite your brothers for gatherings and play with kids. You have become so very human yourself.”

“But I can’t be more human than this.” The power of a spirit of his caliber would be too much for a human form to contain. He could shift forms, but he needed to be himself as well, needed to use all the magic bursting out of him. They both knew it. “I can’t be with her that way,” the black dragon whispered, the thought too painful to say out loud.

The white dragon spirit eyed him in concern, before replying.  

“She will have her own choice to make.”

###

Kye explained to her the best he could. That they have affected each other, how his magic sank into her, made her more like him every day. Every touch and every step closed between them made her less human.

Acacia wasn’t angry or sad. She rejoyced at this power to sing life into things. All the things she could do with it as she got stronger! To call for rain for the dry lands, for warmth to return where dragon magic didn’t reach.

Selfless and emotional as always. It never stopped amazing him.

He lingered by the tent the girls set up for themselves in the coming autumn. Inside he was relieved she didn’t resent him, didn’t reject being closer to him.

And then he heard the crying. “You will leave me! You are going to leave me behind and become a spirit to be with Kye!”

The words pierced through him like an arrow.

“No! Of course not, Nike! I’m your big sister, alright?” Acacia’s voice broke as she shuffled, reaching for the smaller shadow. “I won’t leave you. Everything I have been doing was to protect you.”

“How will your stupid magic help me?”

“When the world gets warmer, it will get safer to live in too. People are capable of horrible things when they are unhappy. But the more content they are, the kinder they become. This is a miracle, Nike.”

“No, this is your excuse! If you did only what was good for me, we would have left months ago! But you stay for him. And you will abandon me for him.”

Nike hiccupped and moaned and Acacia hugged her tightly, her own voice shaking. “I won’t leave you,” she promised.

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Kye sank to his knees behind the tent and felt like crying himself. He could never ask that – never could he see the sisters separated.  

###

Years went by.

When the spirits woke up, they stirred the energy and magic around. The world started to wake up, taking deep breaths in a long awaited age of spring.

Nike let her coat slide open, smiling to herself. She traveled from village to village, singing to nature, reading from hands of people that grew stronger with the blooming fields. Never did she forget to visit the forests as well, many dear friends among the dragon spirits playing there.

She wasn’t scared – she was a grown woman after all. And she had a role to fill behind the witch that could sing nature to life before her.

The first witch that bridged the gap between humans and spirits. It’s her favorite tale to tell it.

How her big sister fell in love with a sleeping dragon. How they learned from each other, helping to heal their world back to life.

It’s a great story. She was there.

When they ask where her sister is, she tells them she is with the spirits now.

They look at her ruefully. Talking in past tense, like she is gone.

But Nike knows better. Acacia was always there for her, until Nike grew strong enough not to need her anymore.

Having a spirit for a sister isn’t so bad, when she is alive and well.

Nike knows and forges on, with peace and love in her heart. The world is hers to take.

[supposed2bfunny]

2doc Week Day 5-Quarantine

This one’s a tad longer, so putting it under a ‘read more.’ Just some really insipid shenanigans for this day’s prompt!

“You ready, Muds?”

“This is an astonishing waste of time, Stu—”

“On three, then?”

“…fine.”

“Great! One, two, three…go!” 2D jumped out of his room, a little confused to find that Murdoc was already standing in the hallway, staring at him. “Hey, you cheated.”

“I came out on three, you came out on go. You just said ‘on three—‘"

“Well yeah, but you count to three and then you—”

“Nevermind,” he cut him off, smirking. “Mate, you look ridiculous.”

“You’re one to talk!” 2D clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to end the sentence in a highly undignified high pitch.

Murdoc was dressed in the clothes 2D had worn in their “Saturnz Barz” video, complete with a pair of blue trousers that looked uncomfortably tight, belted way above his paunch, and a black button-down, opened to reveal a tempting tuft of coarse hair. His chest looked alien without his usual upside-down cross. Without thinking, the singer reached up to his own chest, where the cross sat between his skin and the worn material of Murdoc’s striped jumper.

“Those pants look more like capris on you!” the bassist cackled, pointing at his bare ankles.

“Shut up! The jumper suits me quite well, don’t you think? The color brings out my hair. Least I don’t look like the male whore in some B-movie!”

“Mate,” Murdoc was still laughing, and having a hard time getting his words out. “You can’t say I look like a whore when I’m dressed as you!”

“I wore that outfit better than you!”

“Great, so can we agree that we both look completely mental?”

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair; I think I pull off your frumpiness like a model!”

“That jumper was designed for someone with a complexion more like my own.”

“Green, you mean green skin?”

“Well, I guess green is a state of mind,” he grumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “So slip into that mindset, turtledove, because for the rest of the day, you’re me.”

“Oh, I’ve had two decades to observe you, Muds,” he replied casually, leaning against the doorframe. “All I have to do is act drunk, shout every hour or so about how great my band is, and go out of my way to grate on everyone’s nerves. Easy. Think that mastering the nuance of my enigmatic personality will be way harder for you.”

The bassist-turned-frontman rolled his eyes and moved to brush past him. “All I have to do is not think for the rest of the day. This’ll be a bloody vacation, pet.”

“Hey wait, before we start officially, give me a kiss,” he requested, catching the shorter man by the simple gold necklace—his necklace—around his neck, dragging him in closer and pausing as their lips hovered over each other.

“Am I kissing you as Murdoc, or as 2D?”

“As hot as a little 2D-on-2D action sounds, I want a kiss from my boyfriend.”

“Needy bitch,” he chuckled, but he obliged, pressing the taller man against the wall and kissing him languidly, reaching underneath that hole-filled sweater to trace the cross against his boyfriend’s chest. “Let’s stick a pin in that idea, huh? Now then, shall we pop off? There’s a certain drummer I’m dying to pester with my extensive knowledge of zombie flicks.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go see if Noodle notices the difference—oh, careful!” He reached out quickly and caught the shorter man as he tripped over his slightly-too-big shoes. “Watch it, luv. Being me is a right safety hazard.”

Grinning mischievously, the two parted ways, and the man formerly known as 2D made for the living room, where Noodle could be found flipping through a magazine.

“Noods!” he crowed, doing his best to sound gruff and Stoke-on-Trent-y. “I’ve got some grrreat news! I tried a new skin-care product and it took decades off my skin. I’d say I look at least twelve years younger: what do you think?”

She glanced up and frowned. “What fresh stupidity is this?” she asked.

“Stupidity? Don’t be so rude, poppet, I look good don’t I? Don’t worry; there’s no shame in admitting that a bloke so many years your senior is more attractive than you, really.”

“2D,” she sighed. “Why are you impersonating Murdoc?”

“Impersonating? I am Murdoc!”

“Sure you are. And is Murdoc also Murdoc, or is he 2D?”

“Um…wait, I’m confused…” he paused to try and track what she’d just said, and he realized that  he had completely broken character. “Sod this! Your questions just show that you’re…you’re confused by my superior genius!” Yeah, that sounded about right.

She tapped the magazine on her lap impatiently. “I’m trying to gauge my astrological compatibility with Tessa Thompson right now,” she said. “Can you come back to be annoying and strange later?”

“Er…but I…”

“Get lost, Murdoc.”

She’d done it! She’d acknowledged his acting skills! Satisfied, he pumped his fist in celebration. “Right, enjoy flipping through that trashy magazine telling you what nail polish color will make Tesla love you! I’m going to sit here and watch my soaps!”

“It’s…nevermind.” She sighed, looking like she had a lot more to say, but no energy to say it, and ‘Murdoc’ cheerfully flounced across the room to grab the remote, moving with more spring in his step than he’d had in decades.

Meanwhile, Russel was in the kitchen, preparing himself a hoagie of epic proportions, having been inspired by one of his favorite cooking shows. Just as he was debating whether to opt for dill or bread and butter pickles (or both? life was short), a nicotine-laden pair of lungs cleared themselves right behind him.

“Oh no,” he said, spinning around. “I’m having ‘me time:’ whatever stupid scheme you’re up to, it can damn well wait, Murdo—” he froze, pickle jars in hand, and after a moment, he bent over in a ground-shaking belly laugh. “You look ridiculous!”

“W-wot d’yew mean, Russ?” he asked, pressing a finger to his lips in an attempt to look juvenile. “It’s me, 2D, innit?”

“Murdoc, that belt looks like it’s constricting your ribs, and your belly is about to pop out. What gives?”

“Nuffink gives, just fought I’d try on my old cloves from ‘Saturnz—”

“Man, if you don’t stop talking like that immediately, we’re going to have bigger problems than whatever wardrobe malfunction this is.”

“Easy, easy, big guy! I’ll cut back on the Cockney accent! Fortunately I’ve picked up the ability to speak a bit better in recent years. Can you understand me now?”

“Not at all,” he said dryly. “Why are you dressed like 2D?”

“Mate, I am 2D! The adorable and absentminded singer for our band!” the dark-haired 2D insisted stubbornly.

Russel stared at him, ready to launch into yet another insult. Then he considered the two pickle jars in his hands. “So uh,” he shrugged. “What day of quarantine is it?”

“Oh, seventy-three or seventy-four, something like that. But who’s counting?”

“So you two are just messing around because you’re bored.”

“Well, it’s more fun than making a sandwich, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, smirking, realizing 2D wasn’t really the smirking type, and settling on a softer smile.

Russel weighed his options, and decided the prospective entertainment value was too good to pass up. “Well then, ‘Dee,’ do you want to make this monster sandwich with me? You can regale me with stories of what it’s like in your head the whole time.”

Murdoc—no that wasn’t right—‘2D’ beamed at him and nodded. “I’d love nothing more! Could probably use some extra calories, frail little waif of a man that I am.”

“Oh yeah,” Russel agreed, playfully patting his middle-aged potbelly. “You’re a real waif. Now grab the mustard.”

“You got it, Russ! Yellow or spicy?”

“Yes!”

Several hours later found the singer and bassist reunited in 2D’s bedroom. They sat together, swapping their clothes back piece-by-piece: first 2D pulled the striped jumper over his head, then Murdoc unbuttoned the black shirt as though he were giving a strip tease. They giggled the whole time, each looking particularly relieved when their pants came undone and they could step into comfortable sweatpants once again.

“I’d say outfit-swap was a roaring success!” Murdoc said cheerfully, grabbing a sip of a lukewarm beer sitting on the bedside table.

“I don’t know about that…I think Noodle and Russel were just humoring us.”

“Well at first, sure,” he conceded, gracing the singer with a kiss as he reverently returned his cross necklace to him. “But I think that as we really got into character, they forgot that we were simply acting. Once this quarantine ends, we should head back to LA and reconsider the whole movie star thing!”

“I’ll pass on that,” he replied, pulling a face, then falling down onto his bed, motioning for Murdoc to finish his drink and join him. The older man happily obliged, and the mattress creaked slightly at their combined weight as they cuddled together. “So…what are we going to do tomorrow to annoy the others?”

“We could speak only in riddles the whole day!”

“What if I’m not smart enough for that?”

“Was that a riddle?” Murdoc asked, cackling as he got a poke in the ribs for the comment. “Gentle, gentle! I’ve got it: let’s speak the way people write your dialogue online.”

“Not the super Cockney?”

“That’s right! Let’s speak like Dick Van Dyke attempting to sound like a proper Brit! That’ll be a right laugh!”

“You’re so cruel: what did Noodle and Russel do to deserve you as their bandmate?”

“Hey,” he teased, “you were in on today’s game.”

“Fine, I’ll consider the Cockney schtick, but I think you can do better. Keep working on it.”

“Yes sir,” he agreed, nuzzling into the singer’s neck. “So, we still have the night ahead of us: what did you want to do?”

2D was quiet for long enough that he began to get a little suspicious. “Stu? Simple enough question, luv. What’s on that pretty mind of yours?”

“I was just thinking, Muds…” another long bout of silence.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Would you still be up for that 2D-on-2D action we were joking about earlier?”

Murdoc pulled away from him abruptly, and he scrambled to follow the bassist, to apologize for the stupid suggestion. As he opened his mouth to voice his mortification and backtrack, Murdoc caught his eye with a playful smirk and slowly pulled his necklace off. “Mate,” he said, voice unusually high, like he was trying to imitate someone else, “I fought yew’d neva ask!”

[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 29

Hallow’s End

Post invasion of N’zoth

It had been a long time since there was so much peace able to be achieved, especially with something as devastated as the assault from the Black Empire. With the change of season just around the corner, nearly the whole world focused on the festivities of fall, and Jiroki is no exception.

A distraction of the mind was greatly needed, and she knew many of her own people could use it as well. And so, she decided to reach out to those that she knew who had children, to see if perhaps they would be interested in a gathering for trick or treating in Elwynn Forest, and some had attended.

Jiroki of course had brought her family. Her sister, Estal'anar, is currently taking her turn walking with Jiroki's twins. She knew her children did wonders for Estal's mental health, and even her human 'boyfriend' Szadek walked along with them. Both of the twins dressed like faerie dragons, in hoods and having little wings attached to their costume, holding hands together and with the couple as they walked. They almost looked like their own family, and Jiroki wondered when in the fel Szadek would man up and take the next step with her sister.

Aridren, their uncle, carried Jiroki's littlest one, Taldreath. The small boy still small enough to be cradled, a bit small for Kaldorei babes as is. The boy wore a warm hoodie designed to look like a Murlock, keeping him cozy in the chilly air as his great uncle carried him in his arms while bouncing lightly. Aridren followed behind Estal and Svadek and the twins, going up to a house to get some candy. Jiroki's dear friend, Relliea "Moon" Wilder, walked alongside the red headed human Nathiria Vetrose. Their sons had taken a liking to each other, Nathiria's boy Jaxon dressed like a green dragon whelping, and Andorus a warrior with a color scheme similar to a Blood Knight. They played and pretended to fight against one another as they ran off for more candy. Moon carried her youngest born in her arms, a darling little elf girl with bright silver eyes, yet brown hair and slim ears similar to a Sin'dorei. As the two mothers chat Sheamus stood with them, a worgen in his human form as he carefully watched over Jasper from afar, anxious and wanting to impress his love interest Nathiria. But beside him his attention kept getting drawn, Eric Parthilan, a human priest of balance, chatting away as his wife Ilysaraeth stood nearby, and both carried their newborn twins. Ilysaraeth also walked the path of a Demon Hunter, but took recommendation from Jiroki of her own Azerite treatment she got in order to attempt to have a child. By a miracle they successfully conceived and now the haflings babbled happily in their parent’s arms. The couple named the boy Galadend, and they even had decided to name the little girl Jiroki. The Darkstars and Moonshadows walked together up ahead. Ia and Zanheaaen Darkstar had brought their toddlers Eylennia and Zevris, halflings between humans and Quel'dorei. Though the stoic couple had never really participated in Hallow's End before, and their children wore just plain orange onside. But Kengah Moonshadow found them endearing, much more so than what her partner Cylan Moonshadow had dressed up their children. Nina and Zorba, as well as halflings of humans and Kaldorei, the little children had been dressed up as puppies, Cylan playfully trying to irk his Worgen wife. Even now she glared at him as he hurried along with their 'puppies', making a fool of himself and walking while in a low squat, squirming his arms like waves as he matched forward, his children laughing behind him and trying to catch up to their silly An’da. Merli'neath P.P. Glaivefall dressed as a fantasy fairy princess. Pink wings sparkled on her back while little sticker stars dotted all over her the bridge of her nose and high cheekbones, a tiara crowned on her while her lovely long hair cascaded down. Allerian Windspyre is with her, a young Kaldorei that Jiroki had a bit of a fondness for, almost like a son. Though at an age to be considered a young adult in their culture, the young monk-in-training dressed up as well, as a member of the Shado-Pan. But both Merli and Allerian were occupied trying to assist a frail old Kaldorei. Rather large for an elf, hunched over even and using a crane to help walk. A long white beard nearly touched the floor as it swayed side to side, and the man wore a mask similar to what Shadow Hunters wear. He wore large mittens to keep his hands warm, his ears rather short and looking rather strange for a Kaldorei. Merli and Allerian helped the man walk and take his stroll for candy as well, but Jiroki had suspicions as she saw a chicken walking after the ‘old man’. Daniel Farington the death knight enjoyed partaking in the seasonal events that occurred around the world. His memory has been lost years ago, every year he always experienced something new, and he enjoyed it the most with his beloved. A young human druidess, given the name Fawn’s Step in the Willow, a woman with tribal markings from the Furblog tribe who had named her, walked together in silent steps with him. Daniel wore a cut out mask with the face of a human man on it, pretending to not talk as himself as Fawn carried what they considered to be their child. A black kitten, wearing a little headband with antlers of a stag on them, though the kitten didn’t seem to look to enjoy it much as it’s carried around. Sharpen Jadescythe had heard of parents in the Greyshields coming to hang out, and he brought along his little moose pet he named Venidaughter. Once he had seen that a couple actually had a small animal they considered their child, the sweet himbo immediately attached himself to them, getting to know them and trying to make plans for a ‘play date’. Jiroki herself attended all this as well, watching everyone mingle with one another as children played and were stopped from gorging on candy. She had dressed up as well, in her Saurok costume that she had worn for a few events as is. But in the moment, she stood off at the side of the road, having a wardrobe malfunction that she had her mate Aztook try to assist with. The demon hunter wore a large carved pumpkin on his head similar to the Headless Horseman, she wondered if he could even breath with that thing on. But thankfully he didn’t have need of his eyes, his hands trying to fix the buckles on the back. As annoying as the malfunction is, that wasn’t the most annoying thing on the forefront of her mind. The most annoying thing is in front of her, in fact. Four of them. Drake Duskrunner leaned against a fence post with his arms crossed as he chatted with others. Fa’don Blackshade stood next to him, another Kaldorei wearing a druidic garb of an owl mask as a costume, though he’s nearly quite the opposite of a druid. Two Ren’dorei stood by them, both males. Ianasril Azureflame dressed like a pirate, a large hat and an eyepatch, but currently had the eyepatch moved aside while talking with the other two. Sol’athen Dawnvale didn’t even bother to dress up, standing there with a rather grim look on his face, sighing to himself as he looked to have been dragged along by Ian to yet another outing. All four of them just chatted idly with one another, having followed Jiroki the entire time this night thus far, even waiting for her as Aztook tried to help with her costume. “I know why you’re here.” Jiroki butts in the conversation, making a motion at Drake. “But I don’t know why you three are here. Don’t you have anything better to do?” She says as she looks at the three stooges. “No. I mean- hoot.” Fa’don answers. “Arrg, Shield Mother!” Ian once more starts up his fake pirate accent. “We ‘ere fer de booty!” Raising up his bag of candy. “Hurry up, scallywag, or ya’ walkin’ the plank!” “I really wish I wasn’t here.” Sol’athen laments with a grim expression. Drake just shrugs, giving a smirk towards Jiroki. “Then why are you loitering here if you’re collecting candy?! Go somewhere else- OW- watch the claws!” Jiroki turns her head back towards Aztook. “Sorry!” Though Jiroki could hear the grin on Aztook’s lips. “Just so many buckles and the like. I’m- more used to taking them off…” His voice dips lower at that, genuinely having trouble trying to fix her buckles with his leathery and clawed fingers. “Ugh.” Jiroki rolls her eyes and looks back towards the group. “Well you’re embarrassing me with your stupid costumes! Just go already!” “Hey we’re not that stupid!” Fa’don says in rebuttal, thinks on his words, then realizes his flaw. So, in retaliation, he turns to Drake. “Hey Drake, you know Rebbecane, right? From the Wandering Exchange? She used to be in the Greyshields, right?” “Huh? Yea?” Drake turns his head towards the other male, a brow raised as he gives him his attention. “Oh you should have seen it! Jiroki thinks our costumes are bad, but Rebbecane was teasing her for hers!” “Hey don’t tell him about that!” Jiroki immediately starts to blush stubbornly, taking a step forward, but Aztook yanks her back as he still is trying to fix her costume. “Oh yea? What she say?” Ian gives a gnarly grin, very much anticipating the mischievous deed Fa’don is beginning. “Heh, she kept trying to make Jiro curl her arms up like a dinosaur.” Fa’don rears his hands back in demonstration. “And to ends her sentences with a ‘rawr’! I totally heard her play along, too!” “H-Hey!” “That wasn’t even the funniest thing; she even said someone should put a leash on her! Ho ho, that got a reaction out of some of the security!” “Oh really now?” Drake glances back at Jiroki with a wide and devilish smirk, ideas dancing in his head as he gives her a wink, and Ian just laughs at the story Fa’don shares. Sol’athen sighs with a roll of the eyes; at times, Jiroki could relate with Sol’athen on a spiritual level. Jiroki growls, clearly getting angrier, but Aztook holds her back. “Just a minute deary.~” Aztook has a chipper tone in his voice despite the taunts given at his wife. But she could feel his sightless gaze on him, enjoying her reactions, thriving for them, waiting until she’s riled up just enough before setting her loose. “You think you can so brazenly talk about me like that right in front of me?!” Jiroki hisses. “I just don’t think you should call our costumes stupid when you’re the one that should be on a leash!” Fa’don crosses his arms, head tilted back as if triumphant in the discussion. “Maybe I should call Sharpen over here!” Jiroki blushes immediately, Ian continues to erupt in laughter. “She’s going to kill you.” Sol’athen shakes his head at Ian, giving a sigh. “Done.~” Jiroki clenches her hands, itching to move. Just as she hears her mate finished helping she turns back and looks at him, then does a double take at the pumpkin mask he wore. “... Let me borrow that.” As the others continue to laugh and mock their boss Jiroki grabs the pumpkin off of Aztook’s head, shoving her own Saurok mask into his hands, and Aztook has one of the widest grins he’s had in a long time as he carefully watches his wife. “Prepare yourselves, the bells have tolled…” Jiroki starts, causing the others to look at her. “Shelter your weak, your young, and your old.” Bringing up the helm, she dons the mask of the Headless Horseman. “Each of you shall PAY the final sum!!” Whirling around she faced the four, her face covered entirely by the mask. “CRY for mercy! THE RECKONING HAS COME!” Drake, being the former mate of Jiroki, knew very well just how his ex could get. Giving Aztook a look, he throws up a peace sign, takes a few steps away, and then melds entirely into the shadows. The other three are left startled, giving their Shield Mother a few strange glances and looking amongst one another, and Ian is the one who manages to let out a loose laugh. “Haha, that’s a great impersonation Jir-” A thrum of magic in the air, and Jiroki’s glaive is summoned from mid air, the weapon soul bound to her. “We’re fucking dead, RUN!” Ian quickly pats Fa’don’s chest and starts to move back, the taller elf doing the same and the pair quickly bolt it down the path. As Jiroki begins to run, Sol’athen just stands there, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping upon hope not to get in the crossfire of Jiroki’s wrath; maybe she wouldn’t see him if he stood still. He’s left to wonder that fact as Jiroki just barrels past him, running after Ian and Fa’don. “How mad do you think she is?!” Fa’don asks mid run. “I don’t know-” Ian begins to respond, only to hear a swishing sound in the wind, and suddenly her glaive shoots past them and slams into the ground a bit ahead, causing Ian to jump out of the way. The Void elf lets out a high pitched shrill of a scream, and in his haste is consumed in his shadows and vanishes from sight. “That little shit- TRAITOR!!” Fa’don calls out as he’s left alone to run away from Jiroki, the she-elf still hot on his tail as they run into the forests of Elwynn. There’s a taunting laugh that echoes, Ian doing so from whatever depths of void he disappeared to, then silence follows as now it’s just the Kaldorei. “Kiki I’m sorry!!” Fa’don begins his rushed apologies, still running like the wind as Jiroki runs after him. “Can I take you out?! We can go to Dalaran! Boralus?!” He’s suddenly nailed in the back of the head by the pumpkin mask, nearly making him stumble and offsetting his own mask a bit, having to yank it off and shake his black hair out while running, almost ripping out his snake bite piercings in the process. “KIKI STOP!!” “GET BACK HERE!” (( @daily-writing-challenge​ ))

[meangirlsx]

The End You Meant for Me (Part 2)

Pairing: Lydia Deetz x reader Word count: 2758 Warning(s): None Request: “Okay so like Lydia and her girlfriend spending a second christmas together and reader gets everyone in the house a gift, even beetlejuice! Lydia sees this as a huge step in their relationship because she sees how much her girlfriend has changed in a year considering she was very nervous, felt bad only getting Lydia a gift. To how shes more open and friendly with Charles and Delia, how she pokes fun at Beetlejuice, and how close she is to Adam and Barbara. Lyds is just head over heels in love.” and “Would you mind doing a Lydia x Reader (or Cady x Reader if you still write for Mean Girls) during the holidays? Christmas perhaps?” Note: MAJOR thank you shoutout to @sophiascaruso​ for coming up with literally all of the gifts the reader gives (including input on the gifts to Lydia) and talking through thoughts with me as I wrote this. She is magical and very possibly a modern-day muse in disguise.

And a special thank you to @spooky-scary-lesbian for sending a request that prompted my brain to produce way too many words that I’m way too excited about. Very excited to share the words with you all.

Part 1  Part 3

——

It felt like forever for Christmas to come, and somehow like no time had passed, too. But finally, it was here.

You got up so you had enough time to run out before meeting Lydia. You wanted to visit Emily.

Lydia had told you she was going in the morning, and you thought about asking to join her, but you thought it might be nice for her to have the time just between her and her mom. She had also told you that she had to finish wrapping presents between visiting her mom and coming over to your place, which gave you a good idea of when Lydia would be back at her apartment.

So you bundled up and headed out.

You weren’t the only one at the cemetery, which didn’t really surprise you. A lot of people probably wanted to visit loved ones on Christmas.

It felt strange walking up to Emily’s grave alone. You’d only ever gone with Lydia before.

You saw two bouquets of flowers lying there. One was from Lydia, you knew. The other was probably from Charles.

“Merry Christmas, Emily,” you said. “I brought you something. It’s not flowers, but…”

You pulled out two ticket stubs from a horror movie you and Lydia had seen around Halloween.

“It’s not quite the same as your haunted houses in summer, but I’m doing my best…” You placed the ticket stubs against her headstone. “I always do my best to take care of her. Look out for her. Celebrate Halloween to the fullest extent. In your honor.”

You took another breath to calm your nerves. You knew you had no reason to be nervous, but that didn’t stop you from feeling it.

“Charles gave me your locket to give to her. He probably told you that. It means everything to me. She means everything to me. It’s an honor to be part of such a special family tradition. I’m going to give it to her tonight.”

You took a moment and breathed in the cold air.

“I’m also going to propose to her tonight. Charles probably told you that, too. But I wanted you to hear it from me. And you know? I’m nervous. We’ve talked about it before, of course. It’s not like I’ll be springing the idea on her. I know she wants to get married. I kind of still can’t believe it when I think about it. I’m just so in awe of her. Every day.”

Your mind drifted to all the stories Lydia and Charles had told you about Emily over the years. The things Lydia said she learned from her mom. The ways Charles told you Lydia was like her.

“And it sounds like there’s so much of you in her. I can’t imagine how proud you must be of her.”

You sighed and watched your breath turn to fog.

“I know you’ll be with us tonight. I won’t really see you then, but… Thank you for welcoming me into your family.”

You had nothing else to say, but you weren’t quite ready to walk away, so you stood there for another minute before heading home.

Back at your apartment, you finished getting ready and cleaned up some until Lydia arrived. She helped you bring the cookies you’d made together and your presents for her family out and pack them in the car with hers.

“I’m so excited to be with your family for Christmas again,” you told Lydia as you rearranged some presents in the trunk. “It was so nice of them to invite me last year when I didn’t know them that well. I know I didn’t know them well enough to, but I still feel bad I didn’t have presents for them. I’m so ready to change that this year.”

When she didn’t respond, you picked up your head to see that she had stopped packing the backseat and instead started staring at you.

“What?” you asked.

She glanced at the presents piled up in the backseat, then back at you. “It’s just such a change from last year. You were so nervous. And you won everyone over right away. Not that I expected them to react any differently.” She smiled at you. “I knew they’d love you as much as I do. But you’re so close to them, now. My dad asks about you all the time. I’m still convinced Delia thinks you’re secretly a god. I’m pretty sure Barbara and Adam would adopt you if they got the chance. BJ always asks where you are when I visit on my own. Even Big Sandy gets excited when you come over with me.”

You smiled at her.

“I’m just really happy. And that catches me a little off-guard sometimes. My fifteen-year-old self would hardly believe this is where she would end up.”

You couldn’t help but think about how far she had come, too. You knew her fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t have been comfortable saying all of that, either.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy.” You crossed to her and took her hand. “I’m happy, too.”

She gave you a quick kiss, then climbed into the driver’s seat.

When you arrived, the greetings were the same as at Thanksgiving. And as two weeks ago when you and Lydia had come over again.

Charles, however, seemed especially happy to see you. Truth be told, you felt the same way.

Beetlejuice had already started updating Lydia on an adventure he’d had since the last time he saw her, so Charles hugged you and whispered, “Are you still…?”

“I am. After presents. If I can get her away for a minute.”

He placed his hands firmly on your arms and gave a squeeze.

“The house looks beautiful,” you said, looking around at all the directions.

“Thank you. It has a little bit of everyone in it.”

He was right. There were some classic decorations, which you figured were his. Some were sparkly and more eccentric, which screamed Delia. Some were cutesy and dorky in the best way that could only be Barbara and Adam’s doing. A handful of decorations had a very specific color scheme of green and purple, from Beetlejuice, you figured. And some looked almost more like Halloween decorations.

Charles noticed your confusion and laughed.

“Lydia insisted we get them our first Christmas in the house. We haven’t put them up since she went to college, but she found them again this year and we had to put them up.”

“I love them. None of it really goes together, and somehow they blend perfectly.”

It wasn’t long before you all ended up in the kitchen to help cook. Beetlejuice didn’t touch any food, which was probably for the best, you thought. He proudly proclaimed that he would be moral support instead.

Barbara and Adam truly seemed in their element, rattling off recipes and sharing tips. They seemed thrilled. Really, everyone did.

Everything with the family was an adventure, even cooking and eating, and you kind of loved that.

After dinner and cleaning up, you all gathered in the living room. Charles and Delia made themselves comfortable on the couch. Barbara and Adam pulled up chairs from the table even though they didn’t really need them. Beetlejuice happily hovered between the two couples. There was still room on the couch, but you and Lydia sat on the floor by the fire.

You loved seeing everyone’s reactions as they opened their gifts from each other. You especially loved being part of it this year.

For Beetlejuice, you had gotten a pair of Crocs with one in purple and one in green, a shirt with the phrase “Give me a BJ,” and bugs, which had prompted a handful of questions from the saleswoman at the pet store about what kind of reptile you had. He reacted with a gasp, a hand over his chest, and a “You get me.”

For Adam, you had gotten a couple pairs of jean shorts and a couple pairs of white socks. You thought he was going to scream, he looked so excited. “I think I just leveled up in Dad! Oh, I can wear these with my Birkenstocks!”

“I thought you were kidding when you said you got him jorts,” Lydia said softly to you.

You just laughed.

For Barbara, you had gotten an assortment of seeds for her garden, gardening gloves for sentimental reasons even though she didn’t really need them, and a sun dress. She gave you the biggest hug. “I can’t wait to see how these little babies grow!” she said. “And this dress is gorgeous. I’m going to wear it tomorrow. Thank you.”

For Delia, you got a pair of sunglasses and a faux fur coat she’d tried on when you went shopping together but told herself she didn’t need. Unlike Adam, she did scream. “Oh! You remembered! I’m so glad because I’ve been thinking about them and I really do need these.” She immediately put them on, chucked her phone at you, and struck a pose. “Will you take my picture? Do I look like a celebrity?” You took a long string of photos as she moved through pose after pose. Everyone assured her she did look like a celebrity. And she really did.

For Charles, you got a tie, a bottle of whiskey, and a pair of tickets to the opera for him and Delia. Of course his reaction was more subdued than the rest of the family’s, but it was just as sincere. “I can wear this tie to my business dinner next week. I was going to get a new one for it. And this is my favorite whiskey, but it’s hard to come by. How on Earth did you find it?”

Delia grabbed his arm. “I can wear my new coat to the opera!”

“I actually also got something for Big Sandy,” you said.

Beetlejuice looked touched, and so did Lydia.

You picked up her gift and headed outside. You didn’t intend on it, but everyone stood in the doorway to watch.

Big Sandy approached you as soon as you stepped out of the house.

“Hey, girl,” you said with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

She ripped the package with her teeth to reveal a hat and scarf. She let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a shriek and a chirp.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said with a laugh.

You helped her put them on, and she nuzzled into you.

Now the last gifts to be exchanged were between you and Lydia. You hadn’t planned it that way, but the way the adults had sort of steered the gifts up until then, you realized they had planned it.

“I want to go first,” Lydia said. “I’m really excited about your gift. But also a little nervous.”

That confused you. “I’d love anything you got me. It’s from you.”

She smiled and handed you the gift. It was a small box, nicely wrapped and even complete with a bow.

You placed the bow off to the side and unwrapped and opened the box carefully.

“A key?” you asked, looking back up at her.

“We’ve been talking about finding an apartment together, and I didn’t want to do it without you, but I came across one that was perfect. It has everything we’ve been talking about. And it’s even close to here… So I got it.”

“You got us an apartment?” you asked, almost in disbelief.

“I did.” She did look nervous, and now you understood. She was worried you might be upset that she had chosen a place without you.

You threw your arms around her. “You got us an apartment! Oh my God.”

Her arms wrapped around you in turn. “Also…”

“Also?” You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes again.

“The building accepts cats. So I called the shelter, and they said the black cat we saw last week is still there, so if you want to get her…”

“Yes!” You hugged her again. “I absolutely want to get her.”

You felt Lydia tighten her grip on you.

“A cat,” you said. “In our own apartment.”

Lydia laughed, and you finally let go.

The moment had felt as if you and Lydia were alone, but you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were not. You looked out at the rest of the room. Beetlejuice had his arms crossed like he was at ease, but he was smiling and shaking his head as if he were saying, “Took you long enough.” Barbara’s hands were clasped together in front of her chest. Adam had his hand on her knee, grinning. Delia’s hands were pressed together against her mouth. And Charles’s entire face was just lit up. He looked proud and happy and impressed all at the same time.

You turned back to Lydia. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see the apartment.” You smiled again. “I can’t wait to live there.”

“I have pictures on my phone,” she said. “Do you want to see?”

“Of course!”

“Me, too!” Delia said.

“You guys haven’t seen?” you asked.

“Oh, no, we have. I just want to see them again.”

You and Lydia laughed, and everyone gathered behind the two of you to watch as Lydia swiped through the photos.

It really did look perfect. It was beautiful. It had all the features you were hoping for. And you did love that it was close to her family.

“It looks amazing, Lyds,” you said.

She smiled at you, then tapped on her phone quickly to text the pictures to you.

“Okay,” you said. You picked up your gift and handed it to her.

“Also a small box,” she said. “Don’t tell me you got us an apartment, too.” She laughed, and it almost sounded nervous, but she continued to unwrap your gift.

When she removed the lid from the box, she froze. Her eyes went wide. The entire room felt like it went still.

“Isn’t this…?” her voice trailed off.

“Yes,” Charles said.

She turned to look at him. “I thought it got lost in the move?”

“It did. At least, I thought it did. But I found it just before Thanksgiving.”

“And you gave it to Y/N.” She faced you again. She looked like she had more to say, but instead, she threw herself at you with such strong force that you had to stabilize yourself with one arm. The second you knew you were stable enough to keep both of you upright, you were holding her tightly with absolutely no intention of letting go until she did.

After what seemed like maybe a full minute, you parted.

She looked at the locket again. “I wish my mom had gotten the chance to meet you. She would’ve loved you.”

“I’m sure I would’ve loved her.”

“She would have been delighted to see the two of you together,” Charles said.

Lydia glanced up and around the room. “She is. She might not be with us, but she’s watching. I have no doubt.” She paused, then added, “It’s Christmas.”

Charles gave her a gentle smile. “You’re absolutely right. And I believe she’s thrilled to know Y/N is the one to help carry on the tradition.”

Lydia reached out to run her thumb across the back of your hand. “Me, too.” Then she tugged on your hand and stood up. “I want to go put it on and see how it looks.”

You knew the tug meant she wanted you to go with her. That would be time alone with her you didn’t have to manufacture yourself. It was a little sooner than you’d expected, but all the presents had been opened, and you were about ready to start thinking of reasons to ask her to show you her old room or sit on the back porch with you even though you were there to spend the holiday with her family.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as Lydia made her way to the staircase. You knew they were all thinking the exact same thing as you.

If she had just wanted to see the necklace in a mirror, she could’ve gone to the bathroom on the main floor, you realized. But she was heading upstairs to her old room, and she wanted you to go with her. She didn’t know you were going to propose, but she was creating a moment for the two of you just the same.

So you grabbed your purse and followed Lydia up the stairs.

——

Part 3  (linked at the top, too, but also here for convenience)

Tag list: @mars-bars-stars, @reader-ships, @anxiousankylosaurus, @msmith74, @broadwaymusicaltrash, @you-thinks-wrong-romeo, @theatricalwriter, @be-more-heidi-hansen, @peachy-jolly, @g1ngersp1ce, @trumancheerleadermaui, @dancewyou, @percabeth15, @coral-cat-iris, @madameboxhead, @elaineygrace, @theolwebshooter, @dontgotothenetherworld, @ohsomightykeyboard, @vampireamango

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[letsbenditlikebennett]

Mister, I’ll Make a Wolf Out of You || Ariana & Simon Chatzy

Ariana sniffs Simon out at the farmer’s market and the two become quick pals. @inconvenientsimonstrocity 

Why Ariana was going back to Nightshade Farmer’s Market, she couldn’t quite say. After the whole watermelon debacle last time, she was curious about what sort of other supernatural things they had going on in there. Maybe this time she’d just avoid buying anything unless she actually came across the black garlic she’d been looking for the last time. As she walked around, her nose was confronted with a variety of different smells from seafood to herbs and spices. There was one scent in particular that caught her attention and instinctively her feet followed it. It definitely wasn’t Ulfric or Lucas, she’d recognize them long before she ever neared them. This was someone new and she could feel herself perking up. There was a small grin on her face as the scent of the other wolf became stronger. As she rounded the corner, she saw him standing there at the cursed produced stand with the stupid watermelons. Ariana gave the woman running the stand a dirty look before she approached the man. He appeared to be around Ulfric’s age and had very sharp features. She knew he had to be able to smell her, too. “Hey,” she said, greeting him with a warm smile, “I’m Ariana. I think we may have some important things in common if you’d like to chat for a bit.”

Speaking of the variety of scents, Simon was curious about why he hadn’t thought of this before actually arriving at the market the… girl on the internet suggested to him for finding venison. It was strange how quickly the smells in the air could go from the alluring aroma of garlic to the oppressive odour of fish and the combination as they were were almost enough to make him consider just giving up and going home BUT… he endured. Because he really wanted some deer meat. Hopefully jerky. What he was currently in front of… was not jerky. Rather, he WAS contemplating to see if these watermelons were the aforementioned cursed objects spoken of by others or not, rubbing his nose absently. Suffice it to say, he was caught off guard when he was suddenly approached by a short, younger girl and he jumped back slightly, turning to regard her. “Oh, er… hi,” He replied, noting her smile before her scent, quickly becoming unmistakable to him, backhanded him in the face and he coughed in further surprise, torn between his body’s instinct to take a few generous steps away from her and his minds curiosity to lean in further and try to memorize it. “Ariana,” He replied quietly. He cleared his throat and straightened up. “I’m-- yeah, we might so…” He glanced over at the woman at the stand briefly before looking back at the girl-- the wolf Ariana. “Llllead the way,” He offered awkwardly as if this were the first time he was talking to another person.

Ariana could tell that the man before her seemed to be a little bit thrown off by her approach. She wondered if he was new to this. Could this have been the werewolf that Luke had been referring to. She supposed she would find out soon enough once they found somewhere a little more private. She nodded and led the way to the spot her and Winston had sat down to eat the last time they were here. “Yeah, there’s some tables and stuff that are pretty quiet over this way.” As they passed through the stands, she kept a careful eye and ear out for anyone around them. Could she be putting this wolf in danger by being around him? She wasn’t sure how much truth there was to there being a bounty on her head. Still, this was important. Their kind was meant to stick together. When she found the little area in back with the tables, she was relieved to see no one else was there. “We can grab a seat over here.” She sat down and studied him. “Do you know why I wanted to speak with you and what we have in common?”

Simon couldn’t help but feel a little awkward as he followed Ariana astutely through the market; a tall, scruffy-looking hobo man tailing after a girl who he guessed was likely still in high school probably would’ve turned heads in a more formal environment. Even if he lost her visually, he almost took comfort in the fact that he had picked up her scent well enough that he could probably track her on a better day. And with antihistamines. He’d probably need to tell someone about that one of these days. He tilted his head slightly when they approached the empty area, also internally thankful that there weren’t any bodies to listen in on them and he sat across from the girl. He set his hands on the table in front of him and chose to be invested in her outfit rather than look her in the eye. “You’re… Lucas mentioned you.” He replied softly. “You’re a werewolf. I’m assuming that’s the topic of this discussion.” He said before adding “Unless it’s not that at all and you want to mention my jacket, which I understand. It’s kind of-- it’s no looker,” He chuckled.

Ariana was relieved to have found the man that Lucas told her about. No one should have to figure this out alone. She had been lucky to have not known life any other way. As he spoke, she was sure to keep a close ear out for anyone that may have been approaching. She wasn’t sure how if he had a full grasp on his wolf senses yet. She made herself comfortable at the table and placed her elbows on the table. With a raised brow, she said, “Yes, Lucas mentioned you as well, but didn’t give me a name. He said you were pretty new to this whole thing. I’m sure that’s a pretty big change. How are you adjusting?” Prior she hadn’t actually noticed his jacket, so she laughed and added, “Damn, you found me out. I really just wanted to know where you got your jacket. Looks hella comfy.”

At least she seemed friendly, which appealed to both sides of Simon and the latter felt himself relaxing slightly from his formal position, especially as he noticed her do the same thing. “Yeah, it’s also ‘hella’ ugly and old.” He replied lightly, wishing they could keep talking about fashion instead of things everyone else seemed to think was important. Well, no, that wasn’t correct - he loved to hear about what other people thought were important topics. The more he thought about it, the more he just felt awkward to talk about himself like he had anything interesting to say. “I, uh… can’t complain,” He said mildly, itching his nose as if his body was subtly trying to call him out on the lie. “The deuteranopia is frustrating but that’s really a nitpick in the grand scheme.” He said, not untruthfully. “Oh, um. I’m Simon.” He introduced, thinking maybe he should’ve started with that. “Sorry.”

It was good to see the other wolf relax a bit. Ariana knew if he was new to all of this, the sensory overload may have been a lot to deal with. She wasn’t sure what having human senses felt like, but she knew the hearing and scent was extremely dull in comparison. She couldn’t help but laugh as she said, “You said it, not me.” She rested her head on her knuckles as he spoke. She listened closely, genuinely curious about what his experience with this whole situation was. Her face scrunched up in confusion when he mentioned deuteranopia. “Wait, what’s deuteranopia? I don’t know that word. I know there’s got to be a lot about this that takes getting used to, but it’s good to meet you, Simon.” She needed to get insight to determine if he was safe. He definitely shouldn’t be going through the full moon alone. “So, how long have you been a werewolf? What are your plans for the next full moon?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s uh, red-green colourblindness,” Simon explained. That was the terminology most people were familiar with, after all. BUT at least he couldn’t say he didn’t teach someone a new word. “I didn’t have that until about seven months ago. I can’t tell for sure because I don’t… remember the last handful of full moons,” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lucas made a couple of helpful suggestions about the next time, though. He said I should hang out with you guys and we could go for a run,” He couldn’t help but let a small, timid smile cross his sharp features, if only because no one had offered for him to ‘hang out’ with them before. “He told me what it was like, being a wolf. He also said that that was a big part of their family and that he’d been turning since he was a child. What about you?” He asked, curiosity evident in his tone. “I figure you’ve been a wolf a lot longer, too. What does that make you feel? And you can be as honest as you want, I’m obviously not going to judge,” He chuckled again.

“Oh,” Ariana exclaimed, she nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess I’m used to it since I’ve always been colorblind. Throw in some dyslexia and it makes school a blast.” Her tone towards the end hinted at her sarcasm. It had to be strange to go from seeing the world in full color to seeing only part of the spectrum. The rest of her senses were already so sharp, she didn’t quite mind having dulled vision. She noted that it’s been seven months and the not remembering the full moon was concerning. With the hunters out and about, he definitely needed to be with her and Ulfric to ensure his safety. “That means you’ve been a wolf for seven months now then. Spend it with Ulfric and I. There are people in this town who don’t think we should exist. It’s not safe to be out there on a full moon on your own.” It was a relief that danger hadn’t found him yet. Though maybe she wasn’t the best person to be around to avoid danger. She had to remember they were safer in numbers. “Yes, we’d love to have you run with us. It’ll be fun. I’ve been turning since I was a child as well. My parents were both wolves.” She skipped out on mentioning how they were killed. This whole thing had to be overwhelming enough without taking hunters into account. When he asked how she liked being a wolf, she offered a soft smile. “I’ve always been a wolf so I don’t really know anything else. I enjoy it though. I remember the full moons at this point and have fairly good control when it comes down to it. I find the full moon to be liberating. There’s something about running through the wood that just feels… right. I also like the advantage when it comes to strength, smell, and hearing. Comes in handy being well… short. How has the experience been for you? What you can remember of it at least.”

There was a brief glance of sympathy on Simon’s face when she mentioned dyslexia - that combination couldn’t have been that easy. She seemed bright and optimistic though; not the type to let anything keep her down. That was just the impression he got as he listened to her talk about her experiences, about what being a born wolf felt to her - that made at least three wolves now that were born with it. He took a mental note of the name ‘Ulfric’ and the usage of her past-tense mentioning parents - estranged? Passed on? She hadn’t mentioned it so he chalked it up to a negative memory at best. He also noted the similarities of experience between Ariana and Lucas - it felt right. A literal second nature, something Simon and other normal humans only thought they understood. The smile he hadn’t realised was on his face by listening to Ariana faltered when she asked about him, however and his gaze dropped back to his hands. “N-not as… exciting, I don’t think,” His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember even the following mornings of the first moons; he only vaguely recalled the most recent one and he really wished he didn’t. “I don’t remember the nights but… the next day, there’s usually blood and I feel like I got hit by a truck. Or pushed off a rocky cliff.” He explained, trying to sound plain about it but his fingers intertwined with each other nervously.

It dawned on Ariana that the soreness was probably from the transition itself. The body took a long time to get used to it. She wasn’t actually sure on the timeline of that herself. Ulfric grew up with other wolves, he probably had a better idea than she did. She hoped that wasn’t something that lasted too long. When Simon spoke about it, there seemed to be a certain amount of tension. She wished she had more answers, but she knew eventually it would get easier for him. That didn’t make it suck any less that he clearly wasn’t having an easy time with things right now. “I think the soreness is supposed to get better the more you transform. The same thing with your memory. Your hunting drive will be really strong in wolf form. I usually catch deer or some sort of other game.” She shifted away from leaning on her hands to convey what she had to say next was serious. She kept a close ear out for anyone who could be approaching as she spoke. “We have to be careful though. There are people out there who kill our kind. Especially on the full moon, we’ve gotta stick together.”

Though the aspect of it hurting less physically brought Simon a small level of comfort, he still felt himself withdrawing from her. Lucas had said similar things about feeling a drive to hunt, to be on top, about how freeing it felt and about how being together was imperative because of the Hunters, he believed Lucas referred to them as. It all sounded fantastic, for lack of better terminology. Ariana, Lucas and his family, they had an important aspect of this: Control. They had exposure to this side of themselves their entire lives. Simon, frankly, was a nobody and he was perfectly fine by that but he wanted to be a nobody who just happened to be friends with a bunch of werewolves. He didn’t feel free, he felt like his body had been pulled on a torture device. He didn’t feel control, he felt the exact opposite from the lack of memory, waking up covered in blood. He was turning 43 in November; his life was half over and he was just now being pulled into a circle of brotherhood he didn’t even know was a thing until a few days ago. Maybe Hunters existed because of people like him; he was fully ready to acknowledge and defend that Ariana and Lucas were sentient. He wasn’t - when people pictured werewolves, he was that picture. Mindless, aimless killing machines. And he didn’t think it was appropriate to discuss these things with Ariana… She was young and spirited, a promising individual for a good future. He didn’t feel like it was his place to be such a downer, not to her or really anyone else. “Yeah, you’re right,” He said quietly, feeling like he wanted to say more but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Ariana tried to think back over what she said that could have come across the wrong way. The fact people were out to kill them could definitely be enough to make someone uncomfortable. Then again, this whole thing was new to him. She wished she could relate to it a little bit better, but she knew between herself and Ulfric they could help him learn to be more in tune with his wolf side. More than anything, she wanted to make sure Simon was going to be safe. “Yes, I’m sorry if that was a lot to take in. We’ll help with both safety and learning to be more in tune with this new side of yourself.” She hoped it was comforting. It was hard for her to understand just what he was going through, but she wanted to try. She offered him a warm smile and tilted her head slightly, “It’ll be nice to have another wolf around. I’ve actually only recently started to meet other wolves.” She hoped maybe it could help her level with him to some degree though she did hate the look of pity people always gave her when she told them about her parents. She let out a soft sigh and explained, “I was really young when my parents died, so until recently, I hadn’t known anyone else like us.”

Simon’s eyebrows twitched faintly when she mentioned having lost her parents, piecing together more information. She was really young so they didn’t teach her; she had to learn by herself? That separated her from Lucas. She wasn’t aware of other wolves - she wasn’t raised here? The thoughts of Ariana having to grow and learn how to control and embrace the wolf on her own pulled Simon out of his temporary fugue and he lifted his head to look Ariana in the eye for the first time, his gaze conveying empathy with a gentle smile. “And yet here we are,” He said softly. He leaned back and sniffed thickly. “So tell me more about you, Ariana. What do you like, what do you wanna be when you grow up, that sorta thing.” He said as he knuckled his septum, turning his head slightly to keep an eye out on the exposed entryway they arrived from; he wasn’t sure why but he supposed he also wanted to be aware just in case someone who shouldn’t be overhearing their conversation wanted to listen in.

Ariana was pleased with how well this meeting seemed to be going. It even just felt good to be moving on to more normal conversation in the midst of everything that was going on. She leaned forward and rested on her elbows again, feeling eager to find out more about Simon, too. Wolf stuff aside, they were still people with hobbies and lives that weren’t centered entirely around being a werewolf. She started, “Well, I love soccer, cooking, and running a lot. I just started an apprenticeship at Trusty Wood so I’ll be going into carpentry. My sister still has some hope I may actually take some college classes, but I don’t know if I really want to do that.” She never thought she’d actually enjoy talking about school. She’d be happy to go back to a failing Algebra grade being her biggest problem, but that wasn’t how life worked. She solved the Algebra problem at least. Maybe they could solve this, too. She shook that thought. “What about you,” she said, “What do you like to do? And well, I guess you are grown up, so what do you do?”

Soccer, now that seemed like a good way to burn energy. Simon’s constitution never gifted him with an ability to play sports(until now, at least) but he found soccer the most entertaining to watch - it had the least amount of standing around and discussing superfluous things - he would’ve rather read a book during those times. He made a mental note to attend her games in the future. He also made a note that she mentioned having a sister. Didn’t bring her up when talking about wolves so he guessed she wasn’t one. That raised the question: Could one child be given wolf shifting as a trait but not another? Unless they weren’t related but either way, it meant Ariana didn’t spend her time entirely alone as either the wolf or the human. Oh, duh, she probably had an adoptive family-- but wait, did that work with orphaned wolf pups? He would probably learn some more of these answers in the future, so for now, just focus on THE now. “Me?” He asked. “Oh, uh... “ At least it wasn’t talking about being a wolf. “Well, I used to be a forensic technician but I’m a janitor at the Morgue, at the moment,” He decided to be honest with her. “I enjoy reading, learning new things… I need to get back into playing the piano. I’m out of practise,” He admitted, subconsciously clenching then unclenching his left hand as he said that.

Ariana had to wonder if the switch in jobs had anything to do with his transition, but for once decided against spewing out too many questions in one go. She had no doubt that they’d have time to get to know each other. Shifting focus to the piano thing would definitely be wiser. That had more of a physical aspect to it and she didn’t enjoy reading. Audiobooks were okay, but even so she usually preferred the sound of nature or a good song. She wondered if he hadn’t practiced because of the transition, too. She wasn’t sure how wolf hearing compared to human hearing other than it was intrinsically better. Once he got used to it, music at reasonable volumes was enjoyable. She really hated the piccolo though. Whenever she’d hear the marching band practice, the high pitches always sounded cringe worthy. “Piano, huh? Do you still have one you can practice on? I always enjoyed listening to music with piano in it. I’ve never played an instrument unless you count those god awful recorders they make you learn to play in elementary school.” She laughed a bit before she added, “Not sure if it’s our hearing that makes them sound so grating or if they really are just that bad. Is there a particular genre you enjoy playing most?”

Simon also laughed when she mentioned the recorders from elementary school. “You were right the second time; I couldn’t stand them as a child, either.” And he didn’t want to imagine how they’d sound nowadays given how much more sensitive his hearing tended to be. “And call me old-fashioned but I prefer classical - name any pseudo-famous pianist and I probably know a song or two by them.” As he talked, his right hand mimicked the motions of playing a simple tune on the table in front of him for a few moments before stopping as he sighed. “Unfortunately, I still don't… I didn’t bring a whole lot of things with me when I moved here,” He admitted, a dash of melancholy in his tone. “I’d like to acquire one soon though, just to give myself something to do in my spare time.” The feeling washed over him and he looked at Ariana once more. “I’ve never played a sport, myself - aside from what they made us do in P.E.,” He added. “What made you decide to choose… soccer--” He barely got the question out when he turned his head away from her suddenly and dipped it into the crook of his arm, sneezing twice. “Gah! Sorry--” He apologised hastily, keeping a hand over his face while the other fished around in his pockets and he felt something sink in his stomach when he found his packet of tissues but not the familiar bottle of pills. Of… COURSE he forgot them because why wouldn’t he have? It was just too convenient and a brief look of frustration crossed his features. “I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me,” He apologised again as he applied a tissue to his face. “Um… sports. Yeah, that’s what we were talking about. Soccer.” He plowed right on through. Sports!

Ariana shook her head, shocked that they sounded that bad with human hearing and they were still forced to learn them. “Wow, they made us put on concerts with those things knowing how bad they sounded? Big yikes.” She nodded along and realized half the crap she listened to would probably not be up his alley. Post Malone was a far cry from classical piano music, but he was America’s Sweetheart. She did remember a few piano songs from her music history class though and responded, “The only piano song I remember by name is Moonlight Sonata… which may be for obvious reasons.” She laughed a bit at her own lame joke. Really anything that reminded her of the moon always stood out in her mind. “You should totally get one,” she said eagerly even though she had no idea how much pianos cost, “I’d love to hear you play sometime.” Her face lit up at the mention of soccer again, but quickly scrunched up in confusion at the loud sneeze. He seemed very thrown off by sneezing and apologized. She shook her head and said, “Don’t worry, we all sneeze. Unfortunately, being a wolf doesn’t give us a break from that… Well, clearly as you can see.” He seemed set on bringing it back to soccer and she was happy to talk about her favorite hobby. There was something about being on a team and getting to run around for long periods of time that really just suited her well. “I tend to prefer team sports and soccer is my favorite of them. Always running around and getting to be outside? Definitely a good way to burn off some energy. I’ve played basketball in the past, too, but I don’t enjoy it quite as much. Sports aren’t everyone’s thing though. Music is pretty badass, too. What inspired you to learn piano?”

‘Yeah, being a wolf is part of the problem, I think.’ The thought flitted through Simon’s mind briefly but he expressed genuine interest in Ariana’s enthusiasm for soccer though he made another mental note about her remembrance of Beethoven, giving her a small smile as she made the joke. Be that as it may, it was still a good song. “Tell you what,” He said first. “I’ll play Moonlight Sonata for you sometime if you teach me some of the ins and outs of soccer.” He absently took to scratching at his arms now as if the sneeze reminded his body that though his mind was having a good time, it wasn’t. It was fine, it was supposed to be a new moon. Maybe he was excited, bouncing back from that little pity party he threw. Was it a pity party? He couldn’t never tell. “I was… ffffive, I think, when I started playing and really, I only chose it because my mom told me I couldn’t be a velociraptor when I grew up,” He laughed, recalling the memory. “My parents both work in the medical field but I’ve always loved music.” That was when he wondered how different his playing would sound now given the changes in his… lifestyle. He also wondered how much a piano would cost. He would certainly look into it, now.

Ariana had decided that she thoroughly liked Simon. There was something about him that was sweet and endearing despite the fact he was a good deal older than her. He didn’t talk to her like she was still a kid who didn’t know anything about the world. They could level with each other and she looked forward to helping him learn the ins and outs of being a wolf. She extended her hand out to shake on it and said, “Deal. You play Moonlight Sonata and I teach you soccer. Sounds like a blast.” She grinned widely and was very glad that she found Simon. She noticed he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable as he was scratching his arms. She didn’t want to press too much so she focused back on his story about playing the piano. Five years old was super young. There was no way someone could have gotten her to sit down long enough to learn piano at five years old. “Wow,” she said, “That’s pretty cool you’ve been playing so long. Not quite as cool as growing up to be a velociraptor, but still pretty cool. I’ve always enjoyed listening to music, particularly on runs. What’s your favorite song to play?”

“Yeah, well… I guess there isn’t a lot of demand for professional velociraptors so piano it was,” Simon chuckled as his hand went up to rub at his jaw either out of irritation or contemplation - this question always made him think because he seemed to have a different answer every time. “I think to choose just one would be tantamount to only picking one book or one best friend.” Indeed, books and music WERE his only friends when he was a child. She did not need to hear this depressing-but-factual claim. “I’ll just be broad and say I’ve always preferred Chopin. Again, stereotypical but everyone has something. What kind of music do you like, whether on runs or just in general?” He asked, finding that it was rapidly becoming easier to talk to her; she seemed ambitious, forward, and eager. She had a ‘bull by the horns’ mentality about her, a trait he couldn’t help but appreciate regardless of the source. He recalled just earlier when he felt awkward following her and realised looking back, people might’ve thought that he would’ve been trouble when in actuality, he would’ve been the one IN trouble.

“What a shame,” Ariana said with a laugh, “It would’ve been really cool to meet a professional velociraptor.” Maybe she spoke too soon. Next thing she knew White Crest would reveal some dinosaur like monster that would make her eat her words. Oh, well, she couldn’t let it ruin her A+ jokes. She listened as he mentioned Chopin. “Huh, I’ve definitely heard of Chopin but don’t know if I can actually remember a song from them. Oh well, probably nothing you’d like. Unless you’re secretly a huge Post Malone and Khalid fan in which case, you’d really be full of surprises.” She giggled a bit at the thought of him jamming to Posty. Simon definitely seemed to be opening up a little easier now. He seemed a bit hesitant at first, but now conversation came easily. She had no doubt they’d be an awesome pack.

Simon opened his mouth as if to say something, paused, then closed it again. “Iiiii have never heard of either of those, so we’re even.” He admitted, making a note to look them up later. Was the man’s first name Post? That was interesting, certainly more interesting than his rising frustration with his immune system as he muttered a low ‘excuse me’ and turned his head again to sneeze twice more. At least he had a tissue this time. “Sorry,” He cleared his throat, finally relinquishing what he had been suppressing in the name of good conversation. “But is there any way we could walk and talk to the nearest corner store or pharmacy?” He swallowed what little pride he had. “My allergies aren’t happy with me.” He gave her a sheepish half smile, eyebrow twinging with embarrassment and no shortage of guilt, feeling like he was prioritizing things wrong and cutting their talk short. It was his fault, after all, that he forgot any form of medication.

Ariana laughed along at Simon not knowing who Posty and Khalid were. “I didn’t think you would, they’re pretty popular with my generation. Not sure they’re really up your alley.” They were a far cry from classical piano music. Both artists were fun though and she particularly loved Post. As Simon sneezed again, Ariana gave him a sympathetic look and said, “Bless you.” At the mention of walking to the corner store with him, she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, for sure! Want you to be comfortable. Seems like the allergies are treating you pretty rough today.” As an afterthought, she asked, “What are you allergic to?”

The weight that always sank to the pit of his stomach whenever Simon felt inconvenient lightened when she seemed willing to accompany him. Then again, part of him figured that she wouldn’t turn her nose up to a bit of walking - she did play soccer. He sniffled and got to his feet, pushing in his chair and he paused for a lengthy moment when she asked her most recent question. He could’ve said anything; indeed, they were at a public market full of conflicting scents and overwhelming aromas. It COULD’VE been anything but… it wasn’t and no matter how embarrassing or detrimental to his character information was, Simon didn’t like lying. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Dogs,” He said first, then exhaled and pointed to her slowly, then turned his finger to point to himself as he gave her a look that said ‘yyyyep’.

Accompanying him to the corner store was really no big deal in Ariana’s book. She was just excited to know another wolf and that her and Ulf would be able to help him adjust to this new life. When he answered the question on what he was allergic to, she looked at him incredulously. Dogs which translated to wolves. Which meant he was allergic to her and himself. Big fucking yikes. “Wow, I’m surprised the bite didn’t like… counteract that. I’m sorry, that’s gotta be not fun. Let’s go get you some allergy meds so you feel better.” Once again, she was directing the way so Simon could have everything he needed to feel comfortable and not sneezy. She didn’t want to be contributing to the wolfy sneezes.

“Yeah, you’d think being mauled then subsequently, er…” Well, Simon didn’t want to call it ‘cursed’ in front of someone who had been born with it though he felt like it would be a long time before he accepted being a werewolf as anything other than a ‘parasitic relationship’ or ‘curse’. “Biologically altered--” Nice save. “Would’ve negated that. I guess we can’t all be so lucky,” He chuckled with another sniff, tending to his face with the tissue again. He still felt guilty and immediately thought about how he could’ve translated that answer better or less awkwardly but he settled for a quiet “Sorry.” He was always sorry. What he was more than sorry right now though, embarrassing admittance of his body’s rejection against his own kind now aside, was thankful that Ariana both stayed and still offered to lead him given how unfamiliar he was with everything in town. Wolves really did stick together but he wondered just how big of a liability he still was - wasn’t the ‘pack’ only as strong as its weakest member? That’s how human groups worked, or… what managers would tell their beleaguered employees to scare them into being more productive. He had to stop being negative. “Er… Sorry if this isn’t the right time but I’m glad you sniffed me out, Ariana,” He glanced down at her with a gentle smile.

Ariana did her best to hold back a grimace at his mention of being mauled. That has to be traumatizing and it made her more determined to help him feel comfortable as a wolf. “We’ll just have to keep a hefty supply of allergy pills and tissues then,” she said with a sheepish grin. More than anything, she wanted to be good support for the transition he was going through. There was pep in her step as she directed them to the corner store. She was happy she found another werewolf and someone that she was actually able to help. Her’s and Lucas’ situations both felt hopeless. It was nice to have things with an easy solution like simply watching out for him and teaching him about being a wolf. “I’m glad, too. I think you and Ulf will be fast friends. Good to have you as part of the pack.” She gave his arm a playful punch as they made their way up the block. Their pack was really coming along and it left Ariana with a warm feeling. Maybe things could work out after all.