#my parents have enough on and if i can cook them a nice satisfying meal— garlic and chili oil pad thai.

[afieldinengland]

going to make myself as useful as possible this christmas

[wren-phoenix]

This is something I have struggled to come to terms with for a while. Vent under the read me. Obviously contains mentions of child abuse/neglect

I was the victim of a lot of neglect, physical abuse, and emotional abuse, but from the outside it looked like my family was perfectly happy because my parents were rich because my father was an engineer for the military.

My parents had enough money to have a nice house, keep the pantry full of ingredients, and blow a bunch of money on instruments and firearms.

Meanwhile they refused to help pay for my education (and the only reason they help me with rent is because I tricked them into cosigning on the apartment, and they are trying to make it seen like they are decent people so I don't cut them off). The only reason I got to college is because I ruined my brain with stress in order to get grades good enough to earn achievement scholarships.

Living on my own I can't make enough money to feed myself without risking failing school, so I have been dealing with a lot of issues from malnutrition, but that's nothing new because that pantry full of food I mentioned earlier was off limits to me. The only thing I was given ready access to was junk food with no protein in it. I wasn't allowed to eat raw ingredients and I wasn't allowed to cook. When actual food was cooked, it was rationed out to us kids. Meanwhile, my father was allowed to eat as much as he wanted even though he gave himself diabetes and a ton of heart problems from being sedentary.

I was fat shamed for years because I had to try and steal a lot of wheat and sugar based food to try and satisfy my cravings when I experienced a shit ton of vertical growth because I wasn't getting enough protein. There was a common exchange where I would complain about hunger and was told to just eat a piece of fruit or some crackers, and they never helped, because my stomach wasn't empty, my body was craving building materials. It got even worse when I developed an allergy to red meat and my parents refused to prepare extra food for my allergies when they decided to make a meal that relied on red meat. In fact, they rarely ever cooked chicken and fish after I found out I had the allergy.

On top of all of this came hours each day of being screamed at and insulted, used for my parents to take their emotional pain out on. I was beaten for any small "misbehavior" including things as small as making too much noise for my father to focus on playing computer games, and they justified it with their shitty religion. The only reason they stopped beating the shit out of me was because I started struggling, and it made them scared to leave any visible marks on me because my older siblings had called cps on them before (who didn't help us because we weren't covered in bruises and there was food in the pantry). I remember the two different times where I broke my wrist on my bike and had to go to the hospital and was told to make sure I had my story straight so they wouldn't think I was being abused (even though I was, and it just wasn't related ti the incident) because they were still scared of cps being called on them again.

Now, we are a mentally scarred college student with little money, dissociative identity disorder, and a body that doesn't work properly because of years of malnutrition. We are trying to repair our relationship with food without being able to afford variety in our food. Often having to buy bulk amounts of protein that can be stored in the freezer and getting the rest of what we need through juice and vitamin supplements. We have been lucky though, that Wren's girlfriend's family has been helping us afford food lately.

As a kid, when your parents are poor, you're poor. If they don't have money, that means none of you have money. But if someone's parents are rich, that doesn't necessarily mean the kid is. Sometimes rich peoples' kids aren't rich kids, they're just some rich freak's exotic pets that can talk but aren't allowed to.

[lucy90712]

Telling family (pregnancy series)

Series masterlist

George:

Last night me and George decided that we would tell our families about the pregnancy, we have held off for a little while to come to terms with it ourselves and to kind of enjoy it without anyone else knowing even though we are very excited to tell people.

Tomorrow we are going to see my parents so it is the perfect time to tell them I just don't really know how to do it. I don't want to just say it because that feels wrong I feel like it should be more exciting than that so I need to come up with another way which is what I have been doing while scrolling through Pinterest.

I showed George a few ideas to get his opinion but he wasn't keen on any of them until I showed him one that had an ultrasound picture and a little note that was originally covering it. George really liked the idea because it was simple but also gave my parents something to remember the moment by so that's what we chose which we would get together in the morning before we leave.

In the morning I got one of my ultrasound pictures that we didn't have up somewhere and took a small piece of paper writing 'I can't wait to meet you' on it as well as drew a little baby bottle and stuck it over the ultrasound before putting it in a little box.

We got to my parents house and they let us in and we sat down with them for a drink, I thought about telling them right away but I also wanted to have a normal conversation first that wasn't all revolving around the exciting news.

We had a lovely conversation first before I felt like I should tell them, I gave George a look as I went to go and get the box by saying I was going to go to the bathroom which I did because my bladder has been so bad recently but on my way back I grabbed the box. I gave it to my mum and told her to open it but she had to show my dad too.

"I can't wait to meet you what does that mean?" My dad asked

"Lift up the piece of paper" I said

"No way congratulations you two this is so wonderful" my mum said

"Congratulations" my dad added

We all hugged one another before we told them a few more things like how far along I was and they asked what we think we are going to have and other things.

Dream:

Tonight we have been invited to a family dinner at Clay's parents so we have decided to use the opportunity to tell them the exciting news about the pregnancy. Clay has been wanting to tell them so badly for ages but I made him hold off a little bit just until we could be more certain that things were going well because I didn't want to have to break other peoples heats by telling them if things went wrong.

I left it up to clay to decide how he wanted to tell them because after all its his family and as much as I get along super well with them its up to him to decide how he wants to remember this moment.

At his parents house we sat down for dinner and I had to be careful with what I ate so that I didn't start feeling too sick or else that might give somethings away before clay gets chance to do whatever he has planned. The meal came to an end and clay looked like he was getting ready to tell them.

"We have seem news for you, we're expecting" he said

"No way I refuse to believe that this isn't some sort of joke" his mom said

"I can prove it" he said

He grabbed his wallet and pulled out the ultrasound picture that he carries round with him all the time because he just loves it so much. He showed them and they finally believed him and started freaking out, his sister was super excited and asked me a bunch of questions which I was more than happy to answer. It felt nice for someone to finally know and to have someone to be just as excited as us.

Sapnap:

Telling our parents so far has been the worst thing ever. My parents were so angry at both of us but specifically me and now I haven't talked to them since we told them which is the main reason we haven't told Sapnap's parents yet out of fear for the same reaction. Sapnap has assured me that his parents will be much more supportive than mine and will offer any kind of help they can but I'm scared that they will think of me differently. I have to face my fear at some point and that happens to be today. Sapnap is getting me to go to his parents place with him and he is going to tell his parents I'm not sure how but he said he would warn me before he does it.

We hung out with them for a little while before Sapnap squeezed my hand and gave me a look to say he was about to tell them. My hands started to sweat and shake at the same time because of the nerves building up in my body.

"Ok please don't be mad but y/n is pregnant" he said

"Oh wow thats not what I expected" his mom said

"You aren't mad are you?" He asked

"No of course not I mean sure you could have waited but I will support you and the excitement is building" she said

She gave him and me a hug and we showed her pictures we have from ultrasounds and stuff which improved the vibe in the room to one of excitement and not awkwardness.

Quackity:

We have been telling family slowly over the past few weeks whenever we get chance to see them and everyone has been over the moon. The only person left to tell is my grandma who is quite old fashioned so I have a feeling she will be mad at me seeing as me and Alex aren't married which makes it even more nerve wracking.

I'm going to see her this afternoon and Alex is going to join me when he finishes working on a video so he can be there to face the lecture with me. My grandma is a lovely lady and I love to spend time with her but she sure can be scary when she's telling you off.

Alex arrived about an hour after I did and we sat down to eat some cake my grandma had made because she insists that I eat whenever I go and visit her. After she was satisfied that I had eaten enough I got a chance to tell her.

"Grandma I have something to show you" I said

"Oh what is it?" She asked

I showed her a few ultrasound pictures that we have

"What are these?" She asked

"They are my ultrasound pictures" I explained

"That's wonderful dear I'm very happy for you when do I get to meet them" she said

I answered all her questions and she did mention if we planned to get married but she wasn't at all mad which surprised me but I guess my parents have talked to her a few times about how society has changed.

Karl:

Karl's mom is coming over for dinner today so I've been in the kitchen the past few hours preparing and cooking a meal for all of us trying to make it perfect because we are going to use this opportunity to tell his mom about the pregnancy and I want it to be a memorable moment for both of them.

His mom arrived and we had a lovely dinner which turned out pretty good from how little I know about cooking. Karl was so happy and kept squeezing my hand under the table or just giggling like he normally does when he gets happy. After dinner we invited his mom to stay over for a bit to just kind of chill with us which is when Karl got ready to tell her.

"Mom are you ready to be a grandma?" Karl asked

"Wait is y/n pregnant?" She questioned

"Yeah she is" Karl confirmed

She was incredibly happy mainly because she has always jokingly asked when she is going to get grandchildren or when we are going to get married so for it to actually be happening made her really happy.

Wilbur:

This weekend me and Wilbur are going to visit his parents and to just get away for the weekend, they don't know about the pregnancy yet because Wilbur wanted to tell them in person so we are going to tell them this weekend.

We spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday just chilling with his parents so that we could spend time with them without the focus being on other things but when it got to the evening Wilbur started fidgeting so I knew he was getting nervous. I took hold of his hand and squeezed it to reassure him.

"We have some news for you" Wilbur started

"What is it?" His mum asked

"Y/n's pregnant" he said

"Oh wow I didn't expect that but congratulations" they said

Safe to say they were very surprised because they knew we weren't planning to have kids yet but once they saw that we were excited they got excited too. I showed them some ultrasound pictures of our little bean and gave them one to keep.

[leejeongz]

fluffy a-z SUNGHOON (enhypen)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅the comeback!!???!!!?! amazing. i just had to write this today i just HAD TO. this is really long but nevertheless i hope you enjoy🔅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he loves holding your hand even at the most random times. if you seem anxious or upset, his hand slowly creeps closer to yours, just to remind you that he’s there. he’s not a fan of pda, but holding your hand is just fine :D. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

he messes up your hair (but only when he knows it’s okay to do so, he knows his place lol) when you do something silly or cute. he also does it when he’s first introducing you to people too. he’ll be all like “this is y/n, my gf/bf/partner” and then ruffle your hair, just to once again show them that you’re his.

similarly, he loves when you play with his hair. he’ll purposely rest in head in your lap so that your hands naturally fall to his hair. sometimes, he accidentally drifts off to sleep like that and then wakes up a few minutes later all smiley hehe.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you don’t have the chance to meet up a lot, most of your contact is via text since he doesn’t have the time to call you all day, every day. he’s super supportive of you, he’s your wingman, your hype man and your parent all in one. he looks out for you as much as possible and (even if you’re not younger than him) he treats you like his younger sibling.

there’s always a lot of laughter when you two are together that stems from the assortment of inside jokes that you share. you can talk for hours despite neither of you being the talkative type (mainly about other people lmao.)

as a pair, you’re often misunderstood. people never associate you with each other but you just know that you don’t always need to be with each other to still be the closest of friends. when you are together, you’re an intimidating duo that people often avoid through fear, but you’re actually really nice 🥺😔

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he uses cuddles as a way to distract you and/or annoy you. can and will be the big spoon every time you cuddle. he loves cuddling with you, holding you or just touching you, he’s just shy okay. he loves having you in his arms and holding you, especially when he knows you’ve chosen to cuddle with him over doing something important. cuddling with him just makes him want to cuddle all day :((. so if you start cuddling at 10am, except to still be in his arms at 7pm. more so than cuddling, he likes draping his legs over you “to irritate you” (he just wants to be close to you hehe). it makes him feel like he’s protecting you without it being too hot and stuffy and oppressive.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there’s no time frame for him when it comes to settling down. he wants to settle down but there’s no deadline for him. he’s not actively looking for the love of his life at any point, he’s never going to force himself to be in love just for the sake of creating family. he thinks about settling down a lot, he wants a pet with the person he loves for sure, he’s excited for that day to come, but it doesn’t have to happen soon.

cleaning, he’s fabulous at. the house or apartment is minimalistic anyway, so things that are out of place are easy for him to spot and move. he almost enjoys doing chores with you even, just because he’s spending time with you. when it comes to cooking,,, like sure he’s confident which is so sweet but that doesn’t always mean a good meal. but please don’t tell him that else he’ll get really sad and disappointed in himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if he was to break up with you, it would probably be a “right person wrong time” kinda thing. he wouldn’t get into a relationship if he didn’t see a future with that person, he’s very picky to find the perfect person for him. you’re definitely the right person, but he’s just too busy right now being an idol. he feels guilty for not spending time with you and so he wants to let you live you life, without being tied down so early on. he’d hope that you’d wait for him, but he’d understand it if you didn’t.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

commitment is a big part of the relationship for him. he would want commitment from day one, even if he's not officially your boyfriend yet.

he doesn’t care when you get married, but he definitely wants to get married someday. he likes the idea of dedicating one whole day to celebrating your love for each other, and sharing that with friends and family too. it would quite literally be the best day of his life. he’d propose to you pretty quickly into the relationship, but at a time that felt right. you both knew it was something that you wanted, that you dreamed your relationship would last forever, so why not propose?! he doesn’t mind eating years for the wedding though, it’s a big deal and everything has to be perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

emotionally, he acts quite tough. he doesn’t want to be seen as weak, but at the same time he wants to show his emotions to let you know that’s he’s mature, and that emotions aren’t a sign of weakness. he often keeps really troubling things to himself until he can tell you and you only. you’re the only person who knows him truly, you know everything about him because he’s only willing to share this stuff with you. when it comes to things in your relationship, he also isn’t afraid to speak his mind. he’s not trying to be gentle or tough with his emotions when it comes to you, everything seems like a natural reaction, he’ll cry when he wants to and he’ll be stubborn when he wants to.

physically, of course, he’s very gentle. every touch feels like feathers, every kiss, every hug, every smile, it’s all just very soft and gentle. you notice that he talks to you differently too. his tone with others appears harsher and more blunt than with you. with you, it’s like he’s talking to a baby (in a non- condescending way ofc he’s very mature and you’re not allowed to forget that)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

when he’s congratulating you on something, when he’s proud of you for something, he hugs you. it’s better for him to communicate using hugs rather than telling you because he’s a little shy saying it, even though he means it.

he likes when you rest your head by his neck, while his arms are holding you close. he kisses where your ear is through your hair or your head while you’re hugging and (when he manages to finally say it) whispers a little “i love you”. it’s a tight hug, but it doesn’t last long. when you pull away, he reaches out to hold your hand, he doesn’t want to separate just yet.

if you initiate the hug, he laughs and grunts and lot just to tease you, but don’t be fooled he’s really happy that you are hugging him!!!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh you pair beat around the bush a whole lot. it’s pretty much unspoken for the first year or so. although you never said it to each other, you both knew.

it wasn’t until sunghoon had left you for a little bit while he went on tour (not left as in broke up, just went out of the country lmao idk how to write that in a coherent sentence big sorry) that you realised that you should probably say it. he returned home and it was on that day that you told him you loved him while nestled against his chest in a satisfying hug after such a long time apart. he said it back straight away, looking down at you and waiting expectedly for your lips to meet with his.

he was always waiting for you to say it first, there were moments when he thought he should just say it, but he wanted to wait, he wanted to hear you say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous quite quickly and he always makes you aware of his jealousy no matter how petty the situation may be. he wouldn’t try to hide it, or compromise with you, he wants you all to himself so if there’s even a chance that another boy could possibly be flirting with you, he’ll be mad.

that being said, he’d definitely voice his opinions in a mature and well thought through manner. he would think of how to say things to make you understand where he’s coming from without trying to guilt trip you into unfriending that person, he doesn't want to be THAT guy. he’ll just explain his side and wait to hear your response, and often times it turns into a sarcastic, inside joke which reassures him a lot. he’s just like “fine, go to the cafe with him, but he wouldn’t know which smoothie you like best, would he?!”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

him initiating kisses? few and far between. but when he does, you know he means it. he loves all types of kisses, he just wants to cover you in kisses sometimes, but he’s gotta keep up his image of course. pecks on the lips and longer, more passionate kisses are his favourites though, he just can’t get enough of your lips. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

as i mentioned in the hugging part, he likes to kiss your head or place a kiss where he thinks your ear is while hugging. it sends a rush though the both of you, it just really makes you both think about how lucky you are to have each other.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

a little awkward at first. he’s not sure how to talk to them, and every time he speaks the kids are just like ”??” because he says things that are a little too mature for them.

it will take him some time to be comfortable and confident around the kids, but he wants to be liked by them and he wants them to be happy so he will not give up until that happens.

although, it does have to be said, he’d much rather have a pet than a kid 😳

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

usually, sunghoon wakes up before you. he gets up before you wake up too, and sits and stares at the wall with a blank mind, just to wake himself up a bit. once you get up, he’s gonna ask if you wanna go back to bed again and cuddle and/or watch some tv together when he has a day off. if you agree, he’d bring some toast with him for you both to eat. but if not, you’d just grab some cereal together and eat while sat around your dining table in silence because he does not want to talk first thing in the morning (valid,,, extremely valid)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

sunghoon is a big fan of evening dates as opposed to going somewhere during the day. everywhere is quieter and this is usually his free time so you have him all to yourself, you can do whatever you want together. as much as he enjoys going to fancy restaurants, bars and what not (which usually take you into the late hours of the night), he’d still rather spend some time at home with you.

on those nights that he can spend at home with you, he likes to just rest with you. chilling on the sofa just watching some episodes of your favourite show, ordering a takeaway. you share your thoughts about the show and that’s all you really talk about while it’s on, but afterwards you talk about your day and head to bed, where you cuddle until you both fall asleep (which is pretty quickly since you stayed up late to watch more tv)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like anyone, he overshares when you first start dating due to nerves. you learn a lot about him through this and he’s actually pretty grateful that you do the same thing. you pretty much know everything about him before actually getting into a relationship. throughout the relationship, he’d never try to hide his feelings about certain things and would be pretty hurt if you used things that he’d told you against him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

with you, he doesn’t get that angry. you’d have to do something really vile for him to show actual aggression and disappointment. with other people, it’s not so simple. he finds a lot of things that other people do irritating but he wouldn’t show his anger there and then. he’s more likely to go home and get angry there. he’d appreciate someone to talk to about it, a shoulder to cry on perhaps. definitely an angry crier (cries when he’s angry) and likes to slam doors to make a point.

he’s not afraid of confrontation when something that someone did is actually wrong. he will stand up for what he believes in and it’s worth putting a friendship on the line given their opposing opinions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

this bitch acts SO dumb when you ask him stuff but he knows… he knows everything. everything you’ve ever said is stored in his brain, probably written in his notes app as a back up. he’s ready to spring this knowledge on you at any point. he knows exactly what you like and what you dislike, important dates, about your childhood, he even remembers how certain things he did made you feel, so he could do them more or avoid them in the future. but of course, if you ask him, he knows nothing.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

you weren’t even together officially at this point, but when he turned up at your place on prom night. he’ll never forget how stunned he was when he saw you looking all glamorous that evening. you had some photos taken as a pair, egged on by your friends of course because you’d never normally do that, and he looks at them a lot. he can’t help but think how great you look as a couple (and how you two are going to look on wedding photos 🥺). he had a rose prepared for you, a white one because he knew it would go with your outfit, whatever colour it was and also because of its symbolism. he really wanted to confess when he handed it to you, but he over thought it a lot and the moment ended up passing too quickly. that’s his favourite memory. something that he’ll never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

i know i said he got jealous a lot, but he’d distance himself when it actually came to it. he’d be jealous in his own space until you two were alone rather than being protective while the act that made him feel that way was ongoing. as i mentioned above, he does indeed want you all to himself, but he’d hate to cause unnecessary drama and have you lose friends over a silly misunderstanding.

if you were clearly very uncomfortable around someone, he’d be there with an arm wrapped around you. you’d both like to think that his presence alone is intimidating enough, but sometimes he has to resort to harsh one liners to get them to back off.

i don’t think he’d ever get into a physical fight. it’s not that you’re not worth it, but he just feels it would make the situation worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he really wants to put a lot of effort into your dates, but he finds it difficult because one, he has no time and two, he doesn’t want to disappoint you/organise something you end up hating. most dates are spontaneous and on a whim, but also like… planned in both of your minds. like you know you want to go and you know he wants to go, but it’s not confirmed that it will actually happen until the time of the date if that makes sense. when it comes to it, he gets really shy asking you out on dates, so you’ve kind of just started to read each other’s minds lmao.

he never forgets your birthday or your anniversary. he makes a big deal out of your anniversary because it’s a celebration of you both, he wants to make you feel special and will do everything he can to do so. you pair make your own traditions when it comes to days like that, and he looks forward to them a lot. your birthday is pretty much left down to you (other than his gift for you of course). he doesn’t want to do a poor job of planning anything for your special day so he just leaves it and hopes that you do something instead, if you wanted a party you should have organised it. he would help you plan it thought, anything you want he’d do for you.

his gifts are always things that you like. things that you can treasure and things that you can display and show off are his go to. jewellery is a common gift that you receive from him and every single piece that he’s picked out is so delicate and beautiful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

when you pair are out with mutual friends, he likes to tease you. sometimes he takes it too far without realising it, the atmosphere becomes tense and he becomes even more awkward and wants to leave the situation just to apologise to you but realises it will probably make everything 10 times more awkward.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s a handsome teenager surrounded by other pretty people of course he’s gonna have some concerns about how he looks. actually i don’t think concerns would be the right word. he’s very confident in his appearance, why wouldn’t he be, but he also thinks that everyone else should be too, everyone is attractive in their own way. in reality, he’s very humble about how handsome he is despite constantly flexing his visuals lmao.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

you do a lot for him, not just as in help him out with cooking or whatever, but his mental state. you’ve allowed him to mature a lot and he’s become more emotionally intelligent with you.

he’d hate to think of how his life would be if he wasn’t with you, he wouldn’t be the same person at all.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

one of the first dates you went on was to build a bear, it was his idea surprisingly (he wanted to see which animal/character you picked out, okay?!) you stuffed each other’s teddies and returned them to each other in time to name them. you named yours sunghoon first, he followed by naming his y/n. you both sleep with them on the bed and hug them tightly when you’re not together :( (but your never tell each other that’s what you do lol)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

people who are all up in his face. just back off, yeah? chill out for a second. he gets that you’re excited, and he wouldn’t want to bring you down, but you don’t need to get up in his grill. personal space is a big one for him. if you don’t respect that, then he’s not gonna have any time for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

the prettiest sleeper on the planet. his lips are slightly separated and his eyelashes often flutter as if he’s about to wake up, but it’s actually just a sign of him having a really pleasant dream.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse -  A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards. 

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it! 

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together. 

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

-

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”  

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

-

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.  

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."  

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

-

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing: 

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

[igglemouse]

Episode 4 ~ There Is Only One

They ate mostly in silence because talking would have interrupted eating and Isidora really didn’t want to do that right now. He was a good chef. Great, even. Isidora imagined introducing him to her daughter, Ines, and maybe having him teach her a few things and give career advice? She imagined the dinner their family would have and the picture of them sitting around the table enjoying the food and conversation and...

Franco: So, how is it?

He dared to ask as she was mid chew. She finished her mouthful before replying of course.

Isidora: Franco. This. Is. Amazing!

Franco: Good, good.

He said with a satisfied nod and then they were eating again. Isidora wanted to wait until after to ask her first question but the question she had on her mind just couldn’t wait.

Isidora: So, grandchildren huh? I’m jealous!

Franco laughs: They are wonderful! It’s like having children but with a lot less stress.

Isidora: Oh? I think it would be more stress because you have less control. Sitting on the sidelines basically-

Franco: Ah, but I see it another way. I can help out here and there, sure, but in the end they are not my sole responsibility. So I get to sit back and watch them grow and enjoy their youth without all the annoyances. I do love children but it’s nice to be able to step away, you can do that as a grandparent, not so much as a parent.

Isidora: Hmm, I haven’t thought about it that way.

Franco: I’m sure if you are ever fortunate to have grandchildren your thoughts about it will change. I never liked the idea because once you have grandchildren, you’re officially old. No going back then.

She agreed with laughter and dove back in to her plate, finishing her meal and leaving a completely clean plate. He had done the same. 

Franco: So your daughter wants to be a chef?

Isidora: Oh yeah! Yeah she does!

Franco: Good, good. I do hope to meet her one day if, well, if all goes well and you wish to see me again.

Isidora giggles: I’d say it’s gone well. You cooked me a fabulous meal, one good enough that I’d pay you right now for. You’re handsome and you’re a family man and-

Franco: Ok, ok, slow down, I’m not that amazing!

Isidora: Hmmmm, well fine, you’re only a little amazing.

Franco: A little? I’ll settle for that then!

Isidora smiled and the conversation between them continued...

Index - Next

[milliethekitty27-writing]

The Ladder

In a hole in the ground, there lived a lonely hobbit. It all started when Bilbo grew tired of his empty kitchen.

He hadn’t been fond of eating alone since the dwarves destroyed his pantry, but he hadn’t after Frodo joined him in Bag End. He’d eaten with the elves in Rivendell, which had been full of lovely music and pleasant conversation, and then he’d eaten with the elves, Frodo, and Gandalf when they’d traveled to the Undying Lands.

Now he was here, in Yavanna’s Garden, living in what was basically Bag End. (the actual Bag End was right next door for his parents) He had his beautiful garden back, which only mattered really because he’d been brought back to his youthful self with working hands. The house was always clean (and he’d never really liked cleaning, so that didn’t matter much to him) so he had all the time in the world to work on his maps and his stories. He got the occasional social call from neighbors or family. He ate dinner with his parents on Thursdays and went over to their home on Sundays for family nights with many cousins and aunts and uncles, but he spent the rest of his time alone. He got the same whispers he had in the Shire, but he was satisfied with his cooking and working in the garden. Except… on the days there were no social calls, no family dinners, Bilbo Baggins sat in a very quiet house and talked to nothing.

“You know-” Bilbo said to no one in particular as he weeded a particularly stubborn patch of grass out from underneath his rose bush. There was a basket of tomatoes ready to be made into a sauce, or maybe used the fish tonight, but he’d seen the weeds and wanted to deal with it before it spread. “-I would have expected the garden to take care of itself when I died. Not to be doing the same tasks as before. But here we are, fighting with weeds, aren’t we Tho-” Bilbo stopped, shook his head, and pushed that thought aside. 

He made dinner for fourteen but only ate for one. The rest got put away for the multitudes of meals of the next day, but almost five years after he’d died he found himself looking at the empty table with a frown.

The next morning he perused his bookshelf until he found a collection of stories. From there, he found tales of the dwarves. He sat in his armchair until a collection of cousins knocked on the door and pulled him away, but he found what he was looking for when he was waiting for a peach pie to bake.

Dwarves belief that they return to the halls of Mahal upon their deaths. From there, they await the Final Battle. Upon the arrival of that day, they will be sent back to rebuild Arda, but until then the dwarves rest in their creator’s halls. 

Bilbo hemmed over that. He wandered down to where most of the Tooks lived, asking if they had any maps or had heard of the Halls before. It was a bit of a long shot, and he wasn’t surprised when they all said no. He returned to his smial and examined his garden. 

“Well-” he said to the same problematic patch of clover that refused to leave. “-I know that dwarves do like their underground tunnels and their mines. And if the Green Lady is married to the Smith, then it stands to reason that they might go underground nearby. I don’t think there’s any harm in looking, I’ll just get a bit dirty and ruin my garden, and I do that on the regular. Or I’ll fall into a great underground river and run back into Gollum.” Bilbo sighed, then went to see if he could borrow Hamfast’s good shovel.

There was a patch of yard in the back Bilbo had been planning on planting carrots in, but he had a better idea now. He wiggled his toes in the cool earth, nodded, and stretched out his shoulders. Then Bilbo Baggins put his shovel into the soil and started to dig.

It took quite a bit of time, but he didn’t get as tired as he had in his old age and he didn’t have to take as many breaks. Death might mean you didn’t have to eat, or sleep, but it was routine, and he had dinner with his parents that were tradition. One day, maybe, he’d be able to bring more than just himself and whatever his mother wanted him to bring for dessert, but he pushed the idea of muddy boots and braids out of his mind in favor of helping his mother finish up the roast. 

“What are you doing, Bilbo?” his father asked during one dinner. “Gorbadoc says he hasn’t seen you at the Green Dragon in some time.” 

“I’m digging a tunnel.” Bilbo said matter of factly. “I’m going to try to find the halls of Mahal.” His parents looked at each other for a minute. 

“What for?”

“I… suppose it’s just because I can.”

“Have you considered asking the faunts?” Belladonna suggested as she took a second helping of mashed potatoes. “I’m sure they’d be more than thrilled to be asked to ruin a garden.” Bilbo considered that.

“I think this something I want to do myself.”

Bilbo digged and digged. The hole was big enough for him to stand in rather comfortably, though he had to dig some stair-like notches into the side so he could get in and out. It took almost a week of non-stop digging to reach literal rock bottom, and then he was left with a conundrum. He’d dented Hamfast’s good shovel, so he returned it with an apology and a promise to pay him back, but would Hamfast please lend him a good pickaxe?

Bilbo woke up that next morning with arms that were incredibly sore and demanded he take a day, if not more, off. He agreed. The dwarves had waited this long, they could wait a bit longer. Bilbo went to market, got a drink, avoided questions about what he was up to, dodged a few nosy grandparents, and returned home with arms full of goods. The next day he baked an apology pie for the Gamgees and sent his mother and father cookies, lounging for the rest of the afternoon with a good book. On the third day his arms didn’t yell at him for raising them above his head, so Bilbo hoisted his pickaxe. 

“How’s your hole going?” Belladonna asked as she took out a tart to cool. It was nearly time for the harvest festivals. Hobbits loved to work in their fields and grow their goods, and that meant the harvest festivals of the Shire still went on. That meant competitions (his mother was entering a lovely pumpkin she’d been growing all year, while his father was entering in a poetry competition) and baking, canning for the winter, and family time. 

“Rather well, I like to think!” Bilbo gave the bread he was kneading one last good push. “I think I’ve nearly reached it, the rocks started to change to the next type of rock underground that I read about in the book that Adamantius lent me last week. It’s supposed to mean you’ve gotten to the next layer or… something. The book was rather complicated. I suppose I’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Maybe you’ll have it fixed in time for the summer planting competitions.” His father brushed his hands off on an apron as he came in from the garden with a basket of potatoes, placing them on the counter and taking a moment to kiss Belladonna’s cheek. For a moment Bilbo wondered if soon he’d be seeing his dwarves, be able to kiss one particular cheek, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was possible he was nowhere near being able to see his dwarves, but that was a thought he’d deal with when he came to it. He was nothing if not practical, as a Baggins (no, Baggins weren’t actually practical, he knew that now, but don’t bother telling the Baggins side that) and he didn’t want to consider that what if.

“Maybe.” he ceded. “But I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make it a permanent feature.”

Bilbo returned to his hole the day after the festivals had finally finished. His larder was filled to bursting, along with all his storage rooms, and he was just planning on doing a little bit of work before settling in with a nice book. 

That plan fell a bit short, though. He drove his pickaxe in rather deeply and the earth suddenly crumbled all around him. Bilbo let out a yell as he fell through a suddenly rather large hole, landing with a rather sharp thwack on something… surprisingly soft. 

When he looked around, he found that he was surrounded by an incredible amount of short, bearded people wearing multiple colors and gems. 

Dwarves. 

He looked up and found an incredible amount of sunlight falling on him, along with a decent amount of dirt. 

It seemed he’d found the Halls of Mahal. Now the question was how to get back to Yavanna’s Gardens. 

...he’d cross that road when he got to it. For now, he had dwarves to find, and, uh, oh dear. The dwarf he was sitting on didn’t look very happy. He jumped off of the poor dwarf’s back.

“I’m so terribly sorry-” Bilbo offered the dwarf a hand. They were covered in braids, with long black hair, and Bilbo tried to dust them off once they were up. “-I had no idea I’d almost broken through like that, I would’ve given some warning.”

“You’re what’s been making all that noise?” a dwarf behind him said. Bilbo turned on his heel. This dwarf was dressed like a miner. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“The noise-” the dwarf gestured at the ceiling. “-for the past month, we’ve been getting this awful banging- that’s coming from you? But you’re a halfling!” There was a great deal of yelling at that as the crowd of dwarves surrounding Bilbo all realized what he was. Bilbo felt his cheeks heated up with rage. 

“What do you mean a halfling fell through the ceiling?!” someone bellowed after several minutes where Bilbo couldn’t get his voice loud enough. There was a great deal of pushing through the crowd and Bilbo offered another apology to the poor dwarf he’d probably concussed in his fall. 

“I’ll have you know I’m not half of anything!” He said loudly into the suddenly silent hall, but there was a further commotion.

“That’s not just a halfling that our halfling!” Bofur, that was Bofur, he knew that voice. A bald dwarf covered in tattoos practically rammed his way through the crowd and there were all his dwarves, looking alive and well and whole, no blood or funeral garb, no sorrowful letters or tearful tales from Frodo about bodies and ancient stone walls. He was hugging them, pinching cheeks and smiling as wide as he had in some time. He did a quick head count - twelve. Where was thirteen, where was-

Oh.

There he was. 

Thorin was standing at the other end of the mass of dwarves in the hall, firelight glinting off the silver in his hair and around his neck. There was no sign of gold or bronze, just silver. He practically blended into the cave wall in his nearly black clothes but Bilbo met those beautiful blue eyes and something just clicked. He was covered in dirt, and in his gardening clothes. He looked a mess, he was sure of it, but Thorin was looking at him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. 

“Master Burglar.” Thorin’s voice rumbled across the nearly silent crowd. 

A moment later he and Bilbo met in the center of the path, both having run as fast as their feet could carry them. Bilbo’s fingers curled into the thick, wiry hair and he inhaled the smell that was undeniably Thorin. 

“I thought I told you to call me Bilbo.” he said in a thick voice after a moment. “Or should I be calling you your majesty?”

“No.” Thorin said instantly. He shook his head and Bilbo felt the gentle thuds as beads connected with his skull. “No. Never you.” 

They looked at each other for a moment. Thorin didn’t have the wrinkles around his face anymore, the silver in his hair was less than it had been, but there was still that shadowed look in his eyes. Bilbo took a quick breath, then leaned up and kissed his cheek like his father kissed his mother’s, like he’d been thinking about for ages and ages. 

“Hello.” he whispered. “Hello, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Hello, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” Thorin’s face was flushed now, but he reached up and brushed his thumb along Bilbo’s jaw. 

“That counts as a kiss!” someone bellowed. There was a loud thud and the dwarf, definitely Nori, yelped. “That hurt!” 

“Bilbo can we get a boat through your hole?” Fili called. A moment later there was a thud and both Fili and Kili were there, smushing Bilbo into the center of a Durin family hug. 

“A bo- what do you need a boat for?”

“I want to find Tauriel.” Kili sounded elated. “If you could get through, then she-”

“Boys, I have to get back up myself, I can’t just pull up a boat-”

“What about cheese?” Bofur piped up. Bilbo realized that the entire company had encircled him. He was surrounded in a mass of dwarves. Stinky, hugging-too-tight, wonderful dwarves that he’d missed. “Bombur’s been talking about that recipe you sent him-”

“He sent me dozens of recipes, you’ll have to be more specific-” Bombur started. 

“I told you he could break in, I don’t know why you’re still not giving me money!” that was Nori again, directed at Balin.

“These are the Halls-” Balin began.

“Bullshit, this is Bilbo, he stole from a dragon! This is all in a day’s work for him!” 

“Have you seen my Gimli up there?” That was Gloin. “You know, my beautiful laddy, with the curly red hair and the most beautiful eyes, I haven’t been able to find him and we haven’t heard anything about him in a long time for a while, I’m starting to get worried-”

“He just got here, Gloin, don’t start yelling about your kid again-” that was a voice he didn’t totally recognize but he saw Bifur without an axe and grinning widely as he spoke. 

Bilbo looked back up at Thorin, who was smiling at him in a way that made him come into focus and drown everything else out. 

“I’m glad to see you, Bilbo.” 

“I’m glad to see you too.” Bilbo smiled back at him. His dwarf reached up as if to touch his face again, but faltered.

“We’ve… we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“We do.” Bilbo agreed. “Bu-”

“Bilbo?” Someone shouted down the hole. He recognized his mother after a moment. He struggled out of the throng of dwarves much like a whale breaching for air. There was a shadow over the patch of sunlight from above, bits of dirt trickling in. 

“I’m fine!” he yelled back. “Be careful, it’s a pretty hard landing at the bottom, I don’t want you to slip!”

“Wait that’s the burglar?” someone in the crowd said. There was a loud shushing noise, a thwap, and an ow. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No, Mum, I’m alright!”

“Wait is that your mother?!” Kili and Fili said together. 

“Did you find your dwarves?”

“I’m going to regret this-” Bilbo sighed, then he pitched his voice back up high. “I fell but I’m alright, I just didn’t realize how far down I was!” He paused for a moment, then shouted back. “Do we still have the apple picking ladders?”

“I’m sure we can dig one up-” there was his father. Poor Bungo was probably tearing his hair out. “-are you hurt?”

“No, he’s not, he said he’s alright-” his mother’s voice was muffled. “-we’ll go check, darling, stay out of trouble!” 

“Can you throw down some cheese?” Bofur shouted. 

“Bofur!”

“Oh some apples would be lovely.” Dori sighed. 

“And some apples!” Bofur yelled a bit louder. 

“Just send down his whole larder!” Kili yelled. “And a boat! I need the hole to be big enough for a boat!”

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. This hole was comfortable, and warm, and cozy. It was also full of Bilbo Baggins’ things. This hobbit had lived a remarkable life and thus his home was quite remarkable in many ways, but the most intriguing bit about this hole was the larger hole in the backyard. It was surrounded by stones, with a lovely set of carved steps going up to the house. It led to a sturdy but worn wooden ladder that had been used for apple picking but now served to connect the Halls of Mahal to Gardens of Yavanna. This ladder fell in the center of a massive stone hall, which was filled with flowers that hobbits would come down to tend to. The two races regularly wandered through Bilbo Baggins’ garden to meet - dwarves would come up for market day bearing gifts and coins, eyeing steaming bread and crisp red apples, while some of the more adventurous hobbits would slide down the ladder to inquire about repairs for their tools. 

For Bilbo, though, this hole meant so much more. It meant thirteen dwarves crashing into his house ridiculously early in the morning to nag him into making them breakfast. It meant having his family, blood and not, over for dinner. It meant listening to his mother talk with Dori and Balin about tea, to his father engage Fili and Ori into long tales of age-old tales. It eventually meant Kili tugging a tall, red-haired elf into Bag End no. 2, covered in water while a tired Fili collapsing into a chair complaining that Kili and Tauriel hadn’t stopped making doe-eyes at each other. 

It meant that, after a long conversation with tears and laughter and shy touches, Bilbo made dinner with a dwarf that made him laugh as he stole pie filling and got flour on his nose and in his beard. It meant that Bilbo would come back to market to find someone frowning on his porch with little metal bits twisted in his lap as he worked on making ornaments for Bilbo’s garden. It meant that Bilbo Baggins woke up next to Thorin Oakenshield, one hand tangled in that beautiful dark hair. It meant that they sat on the bench under the oak tree and blew smoke rings into the setting sun, holding hands.

When Frodo Baggins finally entered Yavanna’s Gardens, he found his uncle beaming like he hadn’t in years, with a braid in his curls and a ring on his finger. There were thirteen dwarves in the living room, and Frodo was just in time for tea.

---

Thanks for reading!

This is based off of a post made by @wheeloffortune-design about Bilbo digging his way into Halls of Mahal, which has literally been living in my brain since I read it. (and @gallusrostromegalus put down some delightfully funny comments that also made my day) So… here we are. You can find the post here, assuming the link works!

The AO3 link is here!

man i love bagginshield. 

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Red Roses

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: I wrote this a few weeks ago and gave up on it because I thought it was too messy and too repetitive. But I re-read it yesterday and was surprisingly pleased with it and with its messiness. So here you go.

Credits to Stevie Nicks for some of the words in one paragraph at the end.

Summary: this is my take on the “reader introduces new gf to her family” story, except I decided it should not be cute but angsty

Warnings: homophobia, internalised homophobia, racism

Word count: ~ 5 400

 “Are you ready ?” Wilhemina asked.

You made a face and gave her hand a squeeze. “No? But I don’t think I’ll ever be so let’s just do this.”

“Permission to cane them if they get mean?”

You breathed out a laugh. “Mina, no.”

She gave you a small wicked smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Too bad,” she said in that deep voice that meant someone was in trouble.

“They’re old,” you smiled. “You would break their bones.”

She hummed thoughtfully. You stared down at your linked hands on your lap as you absentmindedly stroked her knuckles. Wilhemina waited a few more seconds, then opened the door of the car and got out.

Well, here goes. You followed her immediately, as she knew you would.

Outside the air was cold and crisp and smelt of the ocean. Every year your family would gather at your grandparents’ house to celebrate Christmas. It was a tradition you dared not break, no matter the toll it took on you. This year, it would just be you, your parents and grandparents.

You stepped closer to Wilhemina as your grandparents appeared at the front door and waved. “Come on in, come on in, it’s so cold!”

“I can smell the ocean from here,” you smiled.

“Yes, but come on in!”

When they closed the door behind you, it felt as if you had just been thrown in jail. They beamed at you, happy and content, as they helped you and Wilhemina take off your coats.

“Welcome! How was the drive? We’re so glad to see you, it’s been too long!”

“I made your favorite cake,” your grandma said with a wink.

“And welcome to you, Y/N’s friend!” your granddad said, opening his arms to Wilhemina.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice was cold, but not cold enough to set off their reproaches.  

Your grandparents gave her polite smiles as they ran their eyes up and down her body, gazes lingering on her cane for a second too long. Automatically you reached out and brushed her wrist, a small gesture of comfort just in case she needed it.

“Are mum and dad here?” you asked, taking a peek inside the living-room.

“Not yet.”

Your parents had always supported you and knew you and Wilhemina were a couple. They had met her three or four times already, had offered her kind smiles that had grown kinder when they’d noticed the fond look that would soften her eyes every time she’d look at you. But your grandparents – that was quite a different story.

You loved them. You really did. They were kind and affectionate and generous. You hated them. They made you feel so small and dirty.

Here was the thing. Your grandparents had their own definition of what was right and what was wrong, and nothing would change their minds. Their convictions were engraved in marble. They pointed a finger at everyone who dared put a toe out of the norms, and laughed at them and jeered and hated. How they hated. It was a terrible monster, that hatred of them. It was too big and too strong and too dark. It stifled you, clawed at your skin, bullied your heart. And how they adored you. You were the perfect grandchild, polite and kind, educated, always respectful, always so proper. If only they knew – they didn’t know you. They only saw what you had allowed them to see, a masquerade, a very pretty picture in a golden frame.  

You had wanted to keep Wilhemina safe from your grandparents’ toxicity, but the alternative was her spending Christmas on her own. Again. While all around her the world celebrated. You wouldn’t have that – it wasn’t even an option. She had been so alone for so long, and it had hurt her so deeply, so viciously, until loneliness had become so familiar she had mistaken it for home. You had been trying to teach her, one gentle touch at a time, what home really felt like. So this Christmas, she would be loved and cherished.

You carried your and Wilhemina’s bags upstairs to the spare room you would sleep in. Wilhemina rolled her eyes at the twin beds. You shot her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She shook her head. “No need to apologize.”

“We can put the beds closer after I tell them about us.”

You wouldn’t get to sleep in that room, part of you knew that. Your grandparents would kick you out like the reminder of a shameful memory as soon as they learnt about Wilhemina and you.

You picked up one of the pillows, so soft and comfortable, expensive pillows that had been carefully chosen for the comfort of loved ones, and stroked it absentmindedly. Your eyes veiled over.

You had been so happy in this house. There had been so much love and joy, so much sunshine. But you had never really been yourself in this house.

Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and pressed your back against her chest. A soft kiss on the nape of your neck. You leaned back into her, eyes fluttering closed, gathering strength from her warmth. She gave you so much of it, every day.

“Are you okay, little one?”

You hummed, turned in her arms to look at her. You poked her cheek. “Never better.”

Your parents arrived half an hour later, and your grandma immediately ushered you all in the kitchen for lunch. Cooking was how she expressed her affection. Her meals were always abundant and delicious. Because she loved you all, so dearly.

“Your house is very lovely,” Wilhemina said as your dad poured the wine.

Your granddad flashed her a smile. “We fled big cities two years ago. Too many freaks, too much filth. We couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your grandma piled food on your plate, her eyes soft and kind, for she loved you so dearly. Your hands were shaking.

“We are being invaded,” your granddad was saying. “In two years my neighbours will be a couple of fags or a family of black people. And the government is doing nothing to stop it. When I look around, I cannot recognize my own country.”

You fidgeted with your fork, unable to eat, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. Several times before, you had heard Wilhemina complain about how “worthless” part of the world population was. You had seen her look down on people and snarl at them for merely existing.

You stole a glance at her. And what – your throat closed up – what if she took your grandparents’ side? What if she agreed with them? What if she pulled her chair closer to them, and nodded to what they said, and shared a few laughs with them, and when next she would look at you it would be with scorn and disdain? What if, listening to what they had to say, her eyes finally opened, and she saw you the way you sometimes saw yourself? Freakish, unlovable.

What then?

You shook your head, suddenly angry with yourself. You knew her. You trusted her. She would never think of you like that.

But what if she did?

Your dad laughed loudly, startling you from your thoughts. You met your granddad’s eyes – kind, soft – and offered him a weak smile.

“And how’s your love life, Y/N?” he asked.

Tell them. You had promised it to yourself. You had promised it to Mina. But what if – Lord – what if they were right? What if they had been right all along? What if Wilhemina finally opened her eyes –

“Did you see how the neighbours pruned their apple tree?” your grandma was saying. “It looks hideous now.”

You cleared your throat.

“Uh, guys, I have something to tell you.”

Your heart was beating so fast you were pretty sure it was going to burst any minute now. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. You had never been more aware of her presence ever since you had met her, her body radiating burning heat that almost threatened to destroy you.

Your grandparents looked up at you expectantly.

Who’s the lucky man? your granddad’s happy eyes asked. Great-grandchildren! your grandmother’s smile beamed. So proud, so satisfied.

You had become ice. Ice that was melting in the fire that was Wilhemina. Your hands were shaking. You wanted to run away so badly.

“Um, so, Wilhemina and I are dating,” you heard yourself say – from very, very far away. The voice wasn’t yours. It echoed in your ears.

Your grandparents didn’t understand.

“We’re dating,” the voice said, “as in we’re together. We’re in love. I love her.” The voice was almost proud. It surprised you.

Your grandparents understood.

This was terrible. This was the worst. The disappointment on their faces, as if you had failed them, as if you had failed to honour your side of the contract. What would they say to their neighbours and friends now? How would they boast about you? When would they get to greet your nice, respectful husband? When would they bounce their great-grandchildren on their knees?  Where were the respectability and the pride and the freaking normal?

You lowered your eyes so you didn’t have to watch as disappointment and pain settled on their faces. You were vaguely aware of the stinging in your eyes and the trembling of your chin. This would not do. You were freezing, ice crystallizing around your heart, to choke it or to protect it you didn’t know. You would break under your grandparents’ gazes and nothing would be left of you. You had failed them.

Warmth. Wilhemina’s hand found yours under the table. She gave it a gentle squeeze, laced her fingers with yours. Warmth, and softness and love.

Your parents weren’t saying a thing. Your dad was staring at his plate, your mum at the ceiling. It broke your heart, their silence. It was like an agreement with what your grandparents’ faces were expressing.

You couldn’t talk either, so you waited, for Wilhemina’s hand to let go of yours as she realized just how pathetic you were, how disgusting, you were disgusting and your love was disgusting and –

“Why are you doing this to us?” your granddad asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wilhemina wince. “Uh? What did we ever do to you to deserve this?”

How sad he looked. How so terribly broken.

There was the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, and then Wilhemina stood up, slowly and threateningly, eyes half-closed, teeth half-bared. You looked up at her, saw the anger on her face, and mechanically you reached out to stop her. She shouldn’t snap at them. They were right. Couldn’t she see that, see how sad they were, how badly you had hurt them?

Wilhemina looked down at you in surprise. For a second she seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Her mouth opened, but you shook your head, jumped on your feet, and flew out of the room.

It was so very cold outside. You had left without your coat. But the cold felt good. You dived into it.

You couldn’t see very well because of the tears in your eyes, but the sky was white, the earth was wet, and the sand was a faded yellow that was almost grey when your feet sank into it. You hadn’t even realized you had run to the beach.

The tide was low, the ocean quiet, barely any waves, which was funny really because your heart was a storm. You had expected the ocean to be raging.

You sat down on the sand and wrapped your arms around your knees. The chilly wind bit your cheeks. You let the cold sweep through you, let it slip its fingers under your clothes. You took a few deep breaths of the salty air.  

Warmth. A gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You left without your coat, little one,” said Wilhemina, her voice firm but laced with tenderness. “It’s too cold. Here, put it on.”

You didn’t move, so Wilhemina draped your coat over your shoulders. She sat down beside you and you hated the tenderness and the love that clutched your heart for it felt wrong – her love felt wrong. You deserved a slap in the face and a few bitter insults.  

You sank into her nonetheless. You couldn’t help it. You had always been drawn to her like a magnet, and she was always craving your touch.

She wrapped one arm around your shoulders to press you close against her. She was staring fiercely at the ocean, eyes black and angry. You saw her blink several times, her jaw working as if she were gritting her teeth to hold back words. She wasn’t good with words. Communication had always been her weak point. But she always tried, for you.

“Maybe they’re right,” you heard yourself whisper after a while – or maybe it was just the wind, carrying the words from your heart to her ears. “Maybe I am a freak. Maybe I am disgusting and there’s something wrong with me.”

Wilhemina’s face hardened. She held you tighter. “Well then,” she said, very low and very slow, “we are meant to be together. I’m a freak, too.”

“You’re not!” you exclaimed. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not a freak, Mina!”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “Funny you should say that. It’s what I think of you, too. See, maybe we can help each other.”

She turned her head to look at you. Her eyes were big and so painfully honest and loving you felt like dissolving into tears. You bit the inside of your cheek as your face crumpled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wilhemina cooed. Her brow pushed up in concern, her hand coming up to hold your chin. She gazed at you, searching your eyes, then leaned in to kiss you.

You couldn’t kiss her right now. It didn’t feel proper – if your lips met, the gods in the sky would roar in wrath and smite you. And what if one of your grandparents’ neighbours or friends saw you? Your family would be so ashamed. You had already hurt them so badly. So you put a hand on Wilhemina’s chest to hold her back, and you saw the pain and the fear flash in her eyes before she blinked them away.

“No, Mina, I –“

She leaned slightly away, blinking, nodding. You told yourself it was the cold wind that made the tears pool in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Wilhemina. You watched her out of the corner of your eye and reached for her hand.

“It’s okay,” she nodded, smiling through her fear.

You gave her hand a squeeze. “I love you,” you whispered, low and anxious, as if it were a shameful secret. As if it should never be uttered loudly. But the ocean captured the words and sent them back to you and her with a loud groan and spray as a wave almost lapped up your feet.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder. You leaned in and planted a peck on her cheek. Nuzzled her skin, breathed her in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love. I understand.”

Of course she did. You had seen the harshness in her gaze when she inspected herself in the mirror in the morning. There were days she would not even dare meet her own eyes.

But she was right. You could help each other. For you both knew what the other was worth, and you both were willing to apply love like a balm on the other’s wounds.

It seemed to you the ocean was whispering. What was it? A secret. Come closer. Don’t be afraid. Closer still.

You sagged against Wilhemina. I’d rather stay here on the beach with her, you told the ocean. Where it’s warm and dry and safe. Keep your secret. I don’t want it.

Tentatively, Wilhemina dropped a kiss on your temple. You hummed, to let her know it was okay. You felt her relax slightly against you, and then she whispered in your ear the secret you had refused to hear from the ocean. You didn’t fail them. They failed you.

Without warning you put one hand on the small of her back and your other hand on her shoulder, and gently pushed her so that she was lying on the sand. She met your eyes in surprise, mouth opening in protest but you kissed her silent. You felt her smile into the kiss.

Her lips were cold, but her mouth was warm and so very sweet. One of her hands tangled in your hair and gently stroke the nape of your neck. Your whole body was tingling. There was no way, you thought, no way this could be wrong.

When you pulled away, Wilhemina’s eyes were shining, and she bit down on a smile. “You’re getting sand in my hair,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Tough shit,” you teased. You brushed your mouth against hers, marveling at the warmth and softness of her; your tongue darted out to taste her lower lip, then plunged into her mouth and gently licked her teeth.

Wilhemina held your hand all the way back to your grandparents’ house. You mother was waiting for you by the door. She gave Wilhemina a grateful smile when she saw you were safe and sound.

“Y/N that was quite an over-reaction,” your mum gently scolded.

“Thank you for your input,” Wilhemina snapped. With a hand on your back she guided you inside. “And thank you for speaking up for your daughter earlier,” she spat over her shoulder. You couldn’t hold back the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Y/N?” came your granddad’s voice from the living-room.

He appeared in the doorway.

And just like that you were freezing again. For he looked so sad, so very broken – his anger would’ve been alright, you could stand up to anger, but this look, this terrible look on his face that suggested his whole world had just come apart – you froze. Instinctively you leaned away from Wilhemina, hating yourself for doing so.  

Your granddad took a tentative step towards you. “Can we talk this over? Surely if we talk this over, you’ll change your mind.”

Wilhemina’s hand on your back felt like molten metal. You had to force yourself not to squirm away from her touch. It wasn’t right, your granddad’s expression told you. It wasn’t natural for her to love you like that.

Your body leaned towards him and further away from Wilhemina. Did she notice? Please don’t let her notice. But she did, and you saw her square her shoulders to look taller like an animal sensing a threat.

“Come on, love,” she said, giving your back a gentle push.

Your granddad’s eyes fell on her. “Where are you going?”

“We’re leaving,” Wilhemina answered in a cold but calm voice. “Our destination is none of your business.”

“And you think Y/N’s gonna come with you?” A laugh, of genuine surprise.”We’ve spent every Christmas since she was born together. We’re family.”

Wilhemina’s fingers on your back stuttered. Her eyes widened, oh, just a bit, just the slightest bit, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know her as well as you did.

“Christmas,” your granddad went on, his face growing more and more animated, “is for family and love. What do you have to offer her, apart from depravity and deceit? Did you really think,” here he laughed again – genuine surprise again, so much worse than hatred, “that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?”, with a glance at her cane, incredulous, pitifying, almost amused.

He was good, you had to give him that. He knew exactly where to scratch so it would hurt the most. But he had also made a mistake. He could abuse you all he wanted, but Wilhemina was off limits. She was sacred ground, never to be sullied by anyone.

“She’s family,” you groaned, raising your chin defiantly, “and I love her.”

Your granddad scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Please, you’ve seen her – or maybe you haven’t, and that’d explain why you agreed to date her. Come on, come sit with us, let us talk, let us help you –“

“Just, stop talking.” You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth, trying to curb the anger that was rising inside you – hot, red, like lava. “Stop talking, and leave me alone.”

Only now did you realize that Wilhemina hadn’t said a word for too long. No snide comebacks, no insults. You glanced at her. Her face was hard and blank, but her eyes were veiled, and you knew that look. There was the glaze she always hid herself behind when she was afraid and hurting. Like that Sunday morning at the farmer’s market, when she and you had been browsing a flower stall, bright pink orchids, red and yellow tulips, green buds, and that old woman behind you in the line had made a disparaging remark about “cripples”, loud enough for Wilhemina to hear.  

You reached for her hand on your back and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Mina, let’s go.”

Your granddad called after you as you stomped up the stairs, Wilhemina’s hand still in yours, but you ignored him. Your body was tingling with a strange mix of anger, fear and relief. You walked into the spare room, picked up your bag and Wilhemina’s – there had been no time to unpack – and turned towards the door. Wilhemina was staring at you, her left arm crossed over her stomach in a hug, her brow slightly pulled down in thought.

“If you’d rather stay here with them –“she started.

“I don’t,” you cut her off firmly.

“I don’t want to get between you and the people you love.”

You heard the pain in her voice, so you dropped your bag on the floor, walked up to her and cupped her face. “Don’t let his words get to you,” you said, tilting her head to make her meet your eyes.”They were lies. You know that. I love you.”

Her eyes locked with yours, wide and begging for reassurance.

Please, you know better than that. You’re so smart, did you really think that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?

Footsteps on the stairs, your grandma’s voice – how much she loved you. How very much she wanted to be proud of you.

Wilhemina’s eyes reflected the hesitation she saw in yours, and it spread and spread and spread until it threatened to darken the whole room like the falling of night.

“I love you,” you repeated, voice strangled, fingers trembling on her skin.

Oh please – they’re family.

And it was the same fear, the very same fear that was pulsing in both your veins – freakish, unlovable. Your lips curled in a soft smile at the exact moment your grandma entered the room.

With your free hand in Wilhemina’s, her pulse and your pulse drumming between your palms, you walked past your grandma, down the stairs and down the hall, towards the front door, and when you opened it you could have sworn you heard the call of the ocean, singing “come away”.

Wilhemina was half crying, half laughing nervously as she fumbled in her bag for the car keys, hands shaking, so you cupped her face again, kissed her, her mouth, her cheeks, kissed her tears until she could breathe easier. And you heard someone behind you gasp, and someone else curse in the same voice the old woman had used that day at the farmer’s market, when Wilhemina’s fingers had stuttered over the flowers.

A sob pushed out of her throat, a jingle of keys as they fell to the floor; Wilhemina bent down to pick them up, but she couldn’t see well enough through her tears. You picked up the keys for her and opened the car.

Before you got in, you turned and faced your family. When you spoke your voice was firm and hard, a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. “I will sit with you, and we will talk, when you’re ready to apologise,” you growled, staring into your granddad’s eyes, then your grandma’s. You slammed the door of the car, just to make a point.

You drove. A little bit above the speed limit, on winding narrow roads that crossed small, sleepy villages. You had driven almost twenty miles when you realized you had no idea where you were going.

You glanced at Wilhemina. She was staring out the window, her face blank, but at least that veil had lifted from her eyes. When you focused on the road again, you spotted a sign that read a familiar name.

“Let’s go there,” you said. Wilhemina didn’t react. “You’ll like the place.”

The place in question was a small fishermen village surrounded by fields, with a narrow pier and a wide beach that stretched for more than half a mile before it abruptly ended on an expanse of rocks covered with seaweeds. You had come here countless times with your family as a child, to sit on the pier with your feet dangling above the water and ice cream dripping between your fingers.

Today the water was as grey as the sky. You reached for Wilhemina’s hand and led her down the coastal path that weaved among the dunes.  

“I have so many happy memories linked to this place,” you whispered, barely louder than the wind. “Now I want to make one with you.”

Wilhemina let out a small, pejorative laugh.

You shot her a sideways look. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then straightened your shoulders and pointed at something in front of you. “Look.”

There, half-hidden behind a swell of the dunes, rose the ruins of what must have been a manor house, but was now a clustered mess of broken walls from which four seagulls flew out with angry cries. A small stream spurted out from between two stones and flowed lazily across the beach to be soaked up by the sand right before it met the ocean.  

Wilhemina stopped in her tracks and let out a surprised puff of air.

“I told you you’d like it,” you smiled. “Doesn’t it look so very Victorian?”

With a clumsy curtsey you extended one arm towards the ruins. “Would Miss Wilhemina accompany me on a tour of Netherfield Hall?”

Wilhemina’s face lit up with a smirk.

The place was rather tricky for her to navigate with her cane, but she didn’t complain. You and her stepped over the bits of wood and the stones that littered the sand, falling into a comfortable and slightly awed silence. There was something so solemn, and a bit impressive, about those ruins, like walking in a silent church.

Wilhemina stopped in a doorway that led into a small, square room. “What is this room?” she asked in a haughty voice.

You assumed a proud expression. “The library. See all my books? Folks come from all across the country to admire them. I have the largest collection.”

“All I can see is you have very bad taste,” Wilhemina quipped as she turned on her heel and walked away. You laughed and followed her into the next room, of which only one wall remained. It opened on the ocean.  

“Careful!” you screamed, pointing at a brown seaweed on the sand. “There’s a banana skin on the mahogany floor!”

Wilhemina snorted, then assumed a scornful expression. “Call a servant. Somebody get us rid of it. I will not tolerate the state of this kitchen.”

With a grin you pulled her to you and kissed her, slow and sweet. She hummed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, fingers barely brushing your skin as if it were made of something indescribably precious. When you pulled away, her smile was genuinely happy.

“Hello,” you giggled, giddy and fond.

She bit her lip, ran her thumb over your mouth.

“Hi.”

You took her hand again, and together you made your way through an archway into yet another room.

“This, I believe, must be the master bedroom,” you sang. You shot Wilhemina a suggestive look, which she pretended not to notice.

“I see a bed, but where is your husband?” Wilhemina asked.

A sad smile. When you spoke, your voice had a quaver to it. “Alas, Miss Wilhemina, there is no husband.”

She hummed. Pressed her cane against her stomach. “So who’s to share this big bed with you?” she asked after a while. She was avoiding your gaze, her eyes fixed on a tuft of grass that had managed to grow in the sand. “It must get so cold in the winter. Any suitor waiting by the door?”

She was no longer teasing you. Her voice was serious, her face had become unreadable again. You looked at her, and felt that familiar pain that wasn’t just pain but also sadness, and yearning for an easier, kinder life, clutch at your heart.  

“A hundred, probably,” you whispered. You stroked your thumb over one of her knuckles, back and forth. “I don’t know. I didn’t check. I keep the doors closed.” You tugged her arm to make her turn and face you. Gave her a soft, sad smile, cupped her cheek with your free hand and caught the lonely tear that dropped from her eye. “I already have my sweetheart here with me inside,” you murmured, gazing into her eyes.  

There was so much fear in your heart. So much fear you could have thrown up on the sand in the middle of those ruins that had once been a manor house, where people dressed in pretty clothes had met to share an evening of dancing and revelries. Love had bloomed among those walls before, love that had been so bright it had lit up the whole room and love that had been kept secret behind closed doors. The walls and the ocean were still singing the long-dead lovers’ songs.

You would sing it, too, grab the hand of the nearest dancer and join the farandole.

So you gave Wilhemina’s hand a squeeze that was almost too tight, just like that day at the farmer’s market when, with rage thundering in your chest and your eyes shooting daggers, you had towered over the old woman and shouted profanities at her until all the colour had drained from her face. And you had bought Wilhemina a ridiculously big bouquet of roses she had carried down the aisle, her cheeks flushed with gratitude and happiness and almost as bright and red as the flowers, for the whole world to see how beloved she was.  

You pulled her close and smirked when her eyes flicked hungrily to your lips.

“What is that sweetheart of yours like?” she whispered.

“Most of the time she’s an ass.” Wilhemina gave you a look that made you laugh. “But when I do this – “you leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth, “I find my home and family.”

Wilhemina’s eyes had fluttered closed; she didn’t open them for a long moment after you pulled away. That was new: she always made sure her eyes were opened when somebody stood that close to her, so that she would see danger come, so that she would not be taken by surprise when her lover suddenly sneered and mocked and laughed. But today she let herself sink into intimacy and trusted it would not hurt her, and you felt yourself melt with gratitude and love.

When she eventually opened her eyes again, she gazed at you with wonderment, as if she were seeing you for the very first time and you were the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on; and then she blinked, and wonderment gave way to adoration and something that was so pure and so genuinely happy.  

[lillotte17]

Bird Nest

Continuation of my post-canon drabble things!! Who is ready for some Emotional Whiplash?!

~

Domesticity is not something that Zhou Zishu has much experience with.

Even before becoming the Four Seasons’ Manor Lord and the Leader of the Window of Heaven, his family had always kept servants. He has never been like Jing BeiYuan, who seems to like nothing more than luxuriating amidst finery, but he has never had to concern himself with the everyday tasks of cooking and cleaning and doing laundry, either. He knows how to look after himself well enough, when he has to, but his standards of ‘well enough’ are not especially high. He was always content to make do with the things on hand, and wait for his fortunes to shift towards something better. Or to simply drown himself in wine until the state of his surroundings and his body no longer mattered.

It has never bothered him before, but in these last few days spent in the cold dusty ruin of the World’s Armory with Lao Wen, he is beginning to notice the gaping holes of his inadequacies.

He does not know how to take care of someone.

He knows how to protect someone, how to fight off enemies and hide from pursuit and outmaneuver any opposition. He knows how to treat a simple wound or a fever when someone is suffering. He knows how to care about someone, but after words of affirmation and patience and physical intimacy, he is at something of a loss.

When they had been staying at the Four Seasons Manor with Chengling, he could wave off the fact that he was not doing most of the mundane work of keeping them all fed and healthy because he had a disciple to train and poison burning through his veins, and later, an injured shoulder to contend with. He had focused more on their defenses, and taking stock of their food and medical stores. Making sure that the secrets of the Manor had remained hidden and safe, so that Chengling could inherit them once he was ready.

But now the Manor is gone, and there is only the mountain and the armory and Lao Wen, and Zhou Zishu…is not entirely sure what to do with himself.

The first three or four days had been lost to fear and grief, clinging to Wen Kexing’s limp body and pouring as much of his internal force into him as he could before slumping over in exhaustion. Once he had come back to him from the brink of death, the two days following had been surrendered to hands and mouths and ravenous devotions. They had spent most of their time in various stages of undress, lounging about on the random assortments of tattered mats and blankets they had made into their bed, neither one willing to venture far from the other’s line of sight.

The fifth or sixth day finally had Lao Wen declaring that he felt grimy past the point of endurance, and sent him puttering about the maze of bookshelves and farming equipment in search of the tools to shape the armory into a livable space. Rong Xuan and his friends had come here to train, so there were still some useful things here and there. A few chipped bowls and a dusty teapot. A moldering wash basin that is not yet beyond salvation and a small stew pot with a rusting handle. He had swept and bustled and rearranged things in nearly a frenzy, and Zhou Zishu had not done much more than keep him company and carry and few things when he was bidden.

It had taken the better part of the day, but now they have a dining area, a cozy nook in a well-lit corner for reading and writing, and even a few battered screens set up for privacy while bathing or changing clothes, if they feel so inclined. It nearly feels like a home, even if everything they have is in some state of disrepair. They heat enough water to wash themselves, tend to their outer robes as best they can, and sit down to their first meal of ice and snow in nothing but blankets. It is not especially filling, but then again, their bodies do not seem to feel hunger as they did before, either.

Wen Kexing seems buoyant with his successes, his damp snowy hair glistening in the soft light of their little table lamp.

“How long do you suppose it will take the others to come dig us out?” he asks.

“It is hard to say just how bad the avalanche was from in here,” Zishu hums thoughtfully, “Even if they find the markers you left and follow you here, I am afraid it will take a few weeks at the very least. Transporting large amounts of men and equipment through the mountains is slow going even in good weather.”

He smirks at him.

“Why? Are you sick of me already?”

“Impossible,” Wen Kexing laughs with a dismissive wave of his hand, grinning from ear to ear. “It was more of a practical concern. If we are trapped in here for months, we might survive it well enough, but there is no telling what state we will be in without access to any sort of grooming tools. The old monster did not exactly tell me what to expect if the technique succeeded. Will our hair keep growing? What about our fingernails? Are we going to look like horrible mountain beasts by the time they finally come for us? Your poor dumb disciple will start crying in fear again.”

“Chengling will cry when he sees us no matter what we look like,” Zhou Zishu sighs, exasperated yet fond. “But I would assume that since our bodies are no longer using food to fuel themselves in the typical sense, that our metabolisms have slowed, or possibly even stopped. Even if our hair and nails keep growing, it will likely be some time before we become terrifying.”

“Hm,” Lao Wen nods in acceptance, “What will we do about keeping clean, though? Luckily, we do not have to concern ourselves too much with dirty dishes, but what about our clothes? What about ourselves? Water can only do so much on its own.”

“I did not expect you to be this squeamish about a little dirt,” Zishu chuckles.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing says flatly, “It is hardly going to be ‘a little dirt’ after several weeks. You should know by now that to touch and be touched by you is one of my life’s dearest delights, but if you truly intend to forego soap and cleanliness for an entire month or more, I am not sharing a bed with you. For sleeping, or anything else.”

Zhou Zishu arches a brow at him in disbelief.

“Would you care to know how long it had been since I had a bath when we first met?”

“Just because I could tell you were beautiful beneath all of that filth does not mean I was willing to bed you before you got a chance to wash yourself,” Lao Wen huffs, “I do have standards.”

Zishu makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, but his expression is still doubtful.

“Ah well,” Wen Kexing sighs, deciding to sidestep the obvious but unspoken opinion about what his standards are, or lack thereof, “There must be something in here we can use. Maybe there are stores of rice in with the grain and farming supplies. I doubt it would be safe to eat, but if we cook it, the water leftover might still be good for washing�� And Rong Xuan was married. Perhaps his wife left something behind.”

“Perhaps you mother did.”

Lao Wen tenses in reflexive discomfort, as he still does at any mention of his past, but then the moment passes and he smiles.

“I doubt my parents would have come here very often,” he tells him softly. “They supported the idea of the armory, but neither of them were that invested in becoming martial masters themselves. They wanted to heal people. But…it would be nice, if we found something of them here. If they left something behind that we could use to make a life together.”

“You are good at this,” Zhou Zishu compliments him sincerely, gesturing to the living space they have already arranged, “I never would have thought this place could feel even half this hospitable. You did a good job with our manor too, before it was destroyed. Chengling barely knows how to boil water, so I know you must have helped him with more than you claimed. The Valley Master is truly a man of many hidden talents.”

“I was only the leader of the ghosts for eight years,” Wen Kexing reminds him, bitterness seeping into his smile, “Even if the old chief favored me for my ruthlessness, I was still more of a servant or a slave than a ward. If I am good at building a life from ruins now, it is because I was never given an option to do otherwise.”

“Lao Wen, I-”

He holds up a hand to halt his apology.

“You do not have to be sorry,” he says, “Not for what happened, and not for making me talk about it either. We have eternity to share together, so I imagine all of our old wounds will eventually be dragged out into the sunlight at some point. It is not the easiest thing to discuss, but…I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything.”

Zhou Zishu puts his hand over his on the tabletop, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.

“There is no rush,” he reminds him, “As you said; we have time. I will be here, and I will listen when you are ready.”

He chuckles softly.

“Of course, those things are easier to talk about while enjoying a jar of wine together, like we used to,” Zishu sighs wistfully, “Of all the things we are going to give up for this life, that might be the most difficult for me to part with.”

“But Ah Xu, we brought the sweetest wine with us!” Wen Kexing grins, leaning towards him over the table.

“…You mean in your flask?” Zhou Zishu blinks at him frowningly, “We cannot drink it anymore, even if you brought some.”

“I have been drinking this wine every day,” Lao Wen insists, eyes curving upwards as his smile deepens, mischievous and extremely self-satisfied. “This is a taste I would not sacrifice for anything.”

Zishu’s brows furrow in consternation, sensing a ruse, but not certain what the endgame could be yet.

“…Do you not want to know where the wine is?” Wen Kexing asks sweetly.

“If I ask, will it end this silly game any faster?”

“Hm, perhaps. That is entirely up to you.”

“…Where is it?” Zhou Zishu huffs out with a grumble, looking terribly put-upon.

“Here!” Lao Wen exclaims happily, placing one long finger directly against Zishu’s lips.

Zhou Zishu catches his hand on instinct, fighting a losing battle with the urge to roll his eyes.

“You are utterly preposterous.” He informs him evenly.

“I am also hopelessly charming and completely inescapable,” Wen Kexing agrees without the slightest hint of shame. He moves his finger to lightly trace one corner of Zhou Zishu’s mouth. “You, on the other hand, are both delicious and intoxicating. If were not trapped inside, I would whisk you out beneath the moonlight and drink you in until both of us were dizzy with sensation.”

“Do these types of brazen declarations actually work on people?” Zishu wonders.

“They worked on you,” Wen Kexing points out with a shrug, still smiling like a fool.

Zhou Zishu lets out long-suffering sigh, seemingly defeated, but he meets Lao Wen’s gaze without hesitation. A few heartbeats pass, and he turns his head slightly, just enough to brush the barest whisper of a kiss across the tip of the finger still hovering near his cheek. He smiles at the surprised silence that follows, pulling the hand in his grip closer to him, deciding to press a kiss into its palm as well.

Wen Kexing’s eyes on him are molten.

Zhou Zishu laughs.

“Well, I think we both know what works on you.”

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing exhales his name with a stuttering breath, a thread of supplication weaving through his voice.

Zishu’s expression softens exponentially.

“Alright.”

~

Zhou Zishu wakes up the next morning with a mild soreness that is becoming typical. His freshly rinsed clothes from the day before are folded neatly near the bed, along with their battered little washbasin and a damp handkerchief so he can wipe himself down before dressing. Wen Kexing is sitting at the narrow table in their reading nook, the sun sifting in through the high windows painting him with sweeps of warm golden light. His hair is still unbound, softening the angles of his face as he pours over the open book in front of him. A comb is loosely clasped within his left hand, seemingly forgotten.

Zishu takes the time to admire the scene in silence. He thinks again about what it means to take care of someone. To make a life from the ground up with nothing but your bare hands and your sincerity. To build a home within the walls of someone else’s heart.

He is still not certain he knows how to go about it, but no one said that the first step had to be the largest one.

It takes him a few minutes to quietly sweep away the traces of sweat and other things from the night before and pull his robe on. He is certain that Wen Kexing must have noticed, but he seems to be engrossed with his reading. Without waiting for acknowledgment or invitation, he pads across the room to pluck the wooden comb from Lao Wen’s elegant fingers.

“You won’t be able to read properly with your hair falling in your eyes like that.” He says it more brusquely than he meant to. His mouth twitches downward briefly in discontentment. That was not how he wanted to begin this.

For his own part, Wen Kexing simply turns his head slightly to blink up at him, a mix of warmth and mild surprise on his face.

“Are you offering to help me look pretty, Ah Xu?”

“You hardly need my help with that.”

Lao Wen shifts in his seat a little, as though he is so pleased with the compliment that he cannot quite hold it in.

“By all means,” he tells him, trying and failing to hold back a wide curling smile, “If you want to touch me anywhere, I would be that last person to stop you.”

Zhou Zihsu laughs.

“This I already know,” he says, leaning over to poke at one of the round mouth-shaped bruises along the side of Lao Wen’s throat.

Wen Kexing hisses and pulls a face as Zishu moves to sit behind him.

“And here I thought you were going to be tender with me,” he quips lightly.

Zhou Zishu stills for a moment, a portion of Lao Wen’s silvery hair already gathered in his left hand. He fiddles with the comb and stares and the shoulders of the man in front of him. His expression slides back towards uncertainty.

“I am.” He says finally. Wen Kexing reaches back and pats his knee. He can tell that he is smiling by the tilt of his head, and somehow it seems to ease the tension back out of his shoulders.

Without another word between them, he beings carefully running the comb through Lao Wen’s hair. He does his best to be gentle, but there are a few places with some especially stubborn tangles. Wen Kexing makes a low pained sound as he tries to pull the teeth of the comb through them, and Zhou Zishu pauses once again.

“Have you ever combed someone else’s hair before?” Wen Kexing wonders.

“…No,” Zhou Zishu confesses.

“Not even your shidi’s?” Wen Kexing presses, sounding surprised, “Didn’t you raise him once our master passed? Qin Jiuxiao was still too young to look after himself at the time, was he not?”

“We had servants at the Four Seasons Manor,” Zishu reminds him, “I was the new leader of a struggling sect. I was not going to spend time doing something that could easily be allocated to a maid. I helped him with his studies and I trained him in martial arts. He came to me with his troubles, but the more mundane chores of childrearing were handled by other people. I had too many other things to look after to go out of my way to make sure he was groomed every morning.”

“It was not a condemnation,” Wen Kexing says softly.

“I know.” He sighs.

“Do you wish you could have done more for him, now?”

“I…don’t know,” Zhou Zishu admits, “I don’t know if there was any more I could have done for him even if I wanted to. I was only sixteen when I became responsible for him. I barely knew how to run our sect, let alone how to be someone’s father figure. As his older brother, it was my job to keep him out of trouble, so that is what I tried to do. He had a good heart. A pure heart -like Chengling- and he was just as silly. I tried to make sure he never got his hands dirty the way I had to. We used to dream of the day the Window of Heaven would no longer be needed, and we would wander the jianghu together. Maybe, if that had happened, we might have had the chance for more moments like this.”

His hand trembles slightly and he tugs the comb harder than intended.

“Ai,” Wen Kexing winces, “Start closer to the bottom. It will be easier to get rid of the knots higher up once the ends are free of tangles.”

“Mn,” he acknowledges. “Sorry.”

He glances down at the comb in his hand. A crisp bouquet of carved wooden flowers in a dark cherry lacquer. Almost violet. He runs his thumb over it thoughtfully.

“Did you find this in the armory?” he asks, “It’s a woman’s comb, isn’t it?”

“Ah, no, I brought it with me,” Lao Wen says. His tone is casual, but almost abnormally so. Zishu squints down at the comb again to see if there is anything peculiar about it. But it just looks like a comb.

“Did it belong to your mother?” Zhou Zishu hazards a guess. “I thought the only thing you managed to take with you when the ghosts came was the hairpin.”

“…It belongs to Ah Xiang.”

Oh.

“When she was little, I would help her get dressed and do her hair up in the ugliest little buns you ever saw,” Wen Kexing continues in something of a daze, “I am sure I pulled her hair so many times, but she never complained. She was too scared I would throw her out. When she got a bit older, she would scold me when her braids were sloppy, but she wouldn’t let any of the girls from the department of the unfaithful do them, either. She only wanted me, and to this day I don’t know why.”

By this time Zhou Zishu has managed to tie back a portion of Lao Wen’s hair so it is no longer falling in his eyes. He thinks about attempting the usual little twist he wears it in, but it is already a bit crooked as it is and he suspects that would be beyond his abilities. He smooths the hair back from his forehead one last time, gently pulling a few strands loose at the sides to frame his face the way he likes it.

“She loved you.” He tells him quietly.

“I loved her, too.”

“I know.” He squeezes his shoulder.

“I found the comb in with my things when I woke up after…after…” Wen Kexing’s breathing becomes erratic, and Zhou Zishu wraps him up in his arms, pulling him back against his chest. Kexing refuses to meet his eyes, but he eventually seems to calm himself, reaching up and holding onto Zishu’s wrists for dear life. “I don’t know if there was some sort of mix up in the rush to leave Ghost Valley, or if Ah Xiang left it for me on purpose. Maybe she thought it would give her an excuse to come back, if she wanted. Maybe she just wanted me to remember all those early mornings when I used to do her hair for her. Or maybe… Maybe she thought I would forget her if she didn’t leave something behind.”

“She knew that she was going to miss you,” Zhou Zishu says, pressing a kiss into the crown of his head, “She wanted to make sure that you would miss her, too.”

A child takes after their parent, after all.

“I…was not as nice to her as I could have been,” Wen Kexing says thickly, “At first, it was because it was too dangerous. If the other ghosts knew she was precious to me, they would go after her as soon as it looked like I might be any sort of threat to them. I had to keep her at a distance to keep her safe. But later… Later on, I think I just forgot how to be kind to someone. And so, I was always making her worried that I would throw her away…”

“She knew,” Zhou Zishu soothes, “She knew your intentions. Who else could know you better?”

“You know me better,” Lao Wen sighs. “She was a bit too silly to understand me completely. Her heart was better than mine. She deserved better than me.”

“You raised her well.”

“Not well enough.”

They sit together in silence for a while, each lost in the memories of the children they could not save. There is grief, but there is understanding, too. The wordless empathy of touch. Zhou Zishu holds Wen Kexing in his arms and sees the ways their hurts fit together in perfect likeness. How just to know someone who knows him, someone with whom he freely shares his words and his space and his time without resentment or restraint, has allowed them both to become more of the people they had always wanted to be. And that…is a kind of caring, too.

Perhaps the most important kind.

The rest will come later.

“Lao Wen, I am afraid if you don’t get up, your hair will need combing again,” Zhou Zishu says after a long time has passed. He makes no move to relinquish his embrace, however.

“I’m not getting up,” Wen Kexing says stubbornly, “You can just comb my hair again for me later.”

“Oh?” Zhou Zishu laughs softly, “I thought I wasn’t very good at it.”

“You are not,” Lao Wen tells him bluntly, “But I’m spoiled now. You have to brush my hair for me every day.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Zhou Zishu smiles, and holds him that much tighter.

“Alright.”

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 8 Damian x reader

The school is shut down for a week ironically because of an attack by The Joker and Two-Face, that Robin and his team took down. The teachers sent out a notice with homework attached and told us to stay inside. Nightmare came back somewhere in the morning I couldn't tell the time because I apparently fell asleep along with Boy Wonder before the end of season 1 of The Highlander. I gently placed him down on the couch, gotten dressed, and made some breakfast, I only had eggs so I made some scrambled and put them on a plate for him and me. Nightmare got the last of the bacon. I put a plate over Robins while I ate mine sitting at the small table in the kitchen going over my homework. Sadly I finished my homework before my eggs and they have gone cold. I silently morn my eggs eating the cold carcass. "You stare any harder at that screen and you might break it." I jump, my head shoots upwards and I sigh, but then my eyes drop on my cat. My jaw drops the furball is purring in the arms of a masked stranger who is petting his head. Robin was petting my cat holding him like a baby and the demon is purring. Robin still had his eyes, and limbs not even a bite mark was seen on his skin.

"You traitor, you barely know him." I playful scold the feline, he meows nuzzling his face in Robin's chest.

"Your monster seems friendly."

"Nightmare looks like he's been introduced to catnip."

"Just a few scratches here and there." He smirks taking a seat next to me."Thank you for breakfast."

"Mhm." I turn back to the screen, "Will you be going back today Robin?"

"I might."

"Hmm." I finish the last problem for today closing the device, "Well I have to go to work, your welcome to stay if you want." I smooth out my clothes tossing one last look at the melting ball of fur. I quirk an eyebrow but move out to the door. I stop Halfway through the doorway and look back putting on my meanest face. "If you break a single window in my home I will find where ever you are and break you. Bye Nightmare, love you, I'll be back in a few hours."

_____________________________________________________________

"Nightmare! I'm back!" my keys skitter across the floor but no black fur is seen. He's still in the arms of Robin though it's not Robin, Green eyes. My stomach sinks and my mouth goes dry. "Damian?" His is just as much shock as me, he puts down Nightmare and rushes to me the door slams behind me. And I'm being dragged then forced to sit, his hands grip my shoulders. "Your early, why did you arrive early, you not supposed to be back for another half hour." I hardly heard him, I scold myself now realizing the obvious. Why else would Nightmare feel comfortable around him he had been here before multiple times noticed how I treated Damian and that's why he was a purring mess in his arms. I said be nice to him when he was over not Robin, but of course, they smell the same Nightmare associated with both people. I should have spotted it sooner, the voice, the height, the tone of his speech. Dear God, I can mom telling how oblivious, like she did when she won Clue. It was right there, he asked the right question and baited me for answers. I don't know why this is a shock to me. Now that I think of it I have to stop myself from laughing

"What the hell," my voice quivers. "Damian, Damian Wayne. You help Gotham." I start snickering, pulling my hand over my face. I throw my head back laughing then fall over to the side. "Nightmare you knew didn't you! Haha, that's why you were you were melting like butter."

"Your laughing!"

"Did you assume I wouldn't!" I wheeze, my breath nearly coming out to form words. "I can imagine you fighting, but saving people that's something else entirely."

"Do you think so little of me?" He sounds disappointed.

"I don't mean it to offend you but what else can I say. I didn't expect this." I sit up, clearing my throat and looking him dead in the eye. "Can I just call you Damian now, or do I still have to you different names."

"Why aren't you more surprised?"I Smile sadly.

"I thought you would have read up on me, do you know who killed my parents that day at home." He stiffens, he opens his mouth but continues. "My Father's sister, my aunt, killed them both during dinner. All because my mother wouldn't let her see those journals you asked about. After that it many people took off their masks."

"That's all it took?"

"What should it take, she killed her own brother because she didn't get confidential knowledge. To be honest, I don't really care anymore."

"You need professional help." I shrug.

"Probably, but getting sessions is expensive and I don't enjoy answering "and how are you feeling?" questions. I had enough of that already from everyone else."

"Where's your brother, Emil?" I feel myself frown.

"He's with someone I trust, I can't tell you who, sorry."

"The file says you died, you also made a miraculous recovery, recovery from what?"

"I prefer not to answer that question, It's rather personal." I don't want to explain that either, I know the doctor was shocked to see me come back. They had to call the professor to have him take me and my brother. After that this entire fiasco.

"You know I'll find out either way."

"Listen, I don't know how I made it, I was tortured by my she who will not be named and left for dead. I prayed for anyone and everyone who would hear me, someone did, the police found me and I was rushed to the hospital. I decided to take a nap, and I woke up to the sound of Emil crying. He cried, even more, when I woke up, screaming even, the good doctor nearly fainted. I was plugged into wires of all sorts, and my uncle was holding a plug, I assume he pulled, tackled me. My body lit up in pain and felt like I was run over, the next I am separated from my family and rushed into a place where they check on me every three months. At least I got to choose the place, they pay for the school, and I cover everything else." I give in, it feels nice to tell someone, something even if it's not the whole truth. But it seems to shut him up. "Please don't go looking for Emil, they haven't caught my aunt yet. I don't know if she's looking for them next, I would prefer not to stand over another grave knowing she got them too." I stare at him gauging his reaction, his face is still stone, unmoving in the uncomfortable silence. I pick up Nightmare, who has been rubbing against my leg for a bit, and scratch his head as he wants.

"Fine, I won't push further but I have terms."

"Really?" What would he need terms for?

"1, you don't reveal my identity to anyone. 2, you will not acknowledge that you know my family’s identities. 3, I come whenever I like as Robin or as Damian. 4, I add terms whenever I please."

"Why would I agree to any of that? I'm the one who has your identity." He smiles.

"Because I will tell Batman this information, and he doesn't talk as kindly to people hiding something. You obviously still are, but for now, I'll let it slide I'm sure by now you've decided to watch the news, so you know what he does." I gulp, I did see his more recent victim and he looked traumatized.

"Alright fine, but I binge so if you fall asleep tough luck, I'm not going back."

"Fine," he reaches back and pulls out his mask which he puts back on, walking out to the kitchen. "I back in a bit, pull out your couch bed while I'm gone. I will be staying here a while." I get up after him.

"Hey, that offer is for when I thought you were some homeless bums who fights crime, gets money from villain's wallets. You have a perfectly good bed at home!" He turns back one foot on the railing and a grappling hook in hand. "Term 6, I will stay as long as I like." he jumps off like before, not giving me a chance to speak.

"Bastard! I need my alone time!" He's gone I don't even know if he heard me. I grumble pulling out the spare sheets and blankets to set up the bed. "He better be paying rent, smug rich kid."

"Meow." Nightmare looks over at the window Robin left of.

"Yes, he's coming back."

"Meow"

"No, I'm not going tell him, not until I have to."

"Merrow"

"Shut up." I kick the side of the couch holding the two large cushions that lay on it, the bed springs out and makes a satisfying thud on the floor. "Go and see if the data has finished downloading, then put it back in the box I'll make you something in a how you feel about tuna our downstairs grandparents gave me a can."

_____________________________________________________________

The sheets are made, the cat is fed and now I am going over how I was going to cover for another person. How much would he eat, can he survive on pastries, ramen, and eggs. How long was he staying, would his family come asking about him seeing as he was here before. At both times, when he broke my window, and when they came for coffee.

"Hey, open the door." The voice is cold but still recognizable. I get up slowly taking my time getting there along with opening the door. He hurries in, dressed in some normal-ish clothes that still look expensive, but he still dressed like he came out of a photo shoot. He not only has a suitcase but some grocery bags, I frown at those. He seems to notice because he forgets his suitcase and charges into the kitchen. "Hey!"

"Y/N I am not eating ramen and eggs for god knows how long. I will cook a decent meal and you will have something healthy."

"How did you know I only had eggs and ramen?"

"I went through your fridge," He places a bag of tomatoes in the bottom drawer where I see green onions and various other veggies.

"I make stir-fry once a month, you have bought enough greens and reds to make that for two weeks. I don't even have rice."

"You don't like it when people spend money on you, do you?"

"I don't need other people's money," He opens his mouth, but I stop him raising a finger cutting him off. "And before you mention Molly, she remains the exception. Not that me telling her not to stops her."

"And why is that." He stops putting the food in the fridge.

"Because I've been friends with her longer," I look back at his bags and frown. "How long do you plan on staying again."

"For as long as I please."

"Won't they come looking for you? Your family I mean, the Detective stops by almost every day."

"Grayson won't be a problem, I left them a trail that leads to several other places." He stuffs the last of the food in the fridge, getting up and looking out the balcony window. "Should take a long while." I can hear the smugness in his voice.

"Your happy you tricked your brothers aren't you." He turns around forcing himself to frown but the corners of his lips twitch.

"Ho, you're a bastard Wayne."

"You're really gonna curse me?"

"You didn't tell me I couldn't Damian." I grab my computer and open Hulu putting on Star Trek; Next-generation where I left off. "Hope you enjoy space adventure, because I'm not starting this over its seven seasons and 4 movies. I'm halfway through season 3, if you want context just ask." I glance up signaling that I am waiting for a response, he leans on the wall in front of my kitchen. I can't read his face, but his face of neutral displeasure wasn't much better. "So, your done feeling good about yourself, or is there something else you need."

"It's been something I've been wondering for a while now, those iridescent pieces you fed me."

"Part of my mother's work." Not a complete lie,

"Was that what those missing journals about?"

"No." More of a lie but not wrong. He groans anyway, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Man, you really like to cut in deep and waste time. Just come here and watch some Star Trek with me I need someone else to groan in pain about Counselor Troy's and Will Riker's on and off slow burn romance." Begrudgingly he walks over plopping down next to me.

"Your tastes in tv are odd."

"You have no idea, my tastes in something go everywhere, after this and Highlander I have several old cartoons next. First, I might have to gather what you know about the Quack pack, Goof troop, Ducktales, and all that pizazz. Though I have a feeling that you would like Darkwing Duck more, or it could possibly be too relatable." He gives me a look.

"How could I relate to a duck?"

"We are a long way from that now, at the moment we must bear witness to Captain Picard and his adventures commanding the USS Enterprise."

"Has anyone told you how unbelievably weird you are?"

"Sir, you have entered my life for what looks to be the long run. You will experience the kind of weirdness only Molly has ever seen. But now that you are basically my roommate you might see more." I pat his shoulder. "So, buckle up, because this is now you've got a seat on this roller-coaster, and you can't get off till the car reaches a complete stop. Now can we please get back to the show I want to see some cosmic action?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Was that a statement or a question?"

"He can achieve the perception of feeling with a chip that goes into his hyper-advanced brain, lets his brother take it but can't make his own."

"I lent you my computer to catch up to where I left off for one night and that's what you're hung upon."

"Yes," his eyes look serious while he shoves some oatmeal in his mouth. "You are the one who can't stand the slow burn."

"Touche."

Before we got to the last season, Damian had asked he could see the rest of the show before the finally. I didn't expect that he would binge because it was a weekend, he even made extensive notes on character weakness. He still went out on patrol every night but came back with no one tailing him. That's what he says at least. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes and just lacking energy altogether.

"While I'm at work please go to sleep, you look like you fought an energy vampire and lost."

"I wouldn’t have lost to a vampire, they’re not that hard to kill.”

“But they drink blood they need to get close; energy vampires are more psychic they don’t even have to be a real monster.” He stops eating/

“How so?”

“They could be emotionally, physically, and mentally draining people. You know like Deity Skimmer, the girl in our science class. You can’t kill the energy-sucking vibes she gives off, can you.” He snorts behind his hand.” I mean it, even creatures of the night need sleep.” I drop my dishes off in the sink. I walk off to the door putting on my boots, I hear the chair slide and I feel his judging eyes digging holes in the back of my skull.

“Once again your conditions said nothing about teasing you, suck it up.” He scoffs. “I’ll be back around 5, don’t break any more windows while I’m gone.” I close the door before I hear any remarks once more about the incident. Though I laugh to myself, I straighten out my outfit and head down to the wonderful smells of the coffee shop. I walk slowly down the stairs looking out to the crowd that had been seated in the lounge. My managers were out by the couches talking to one of the regulars. Pull me behind the counter and relieve my coworker Meg, she looks exhausted and excuses herself. She takes what I assume is her coffee and puts away her apron and rushes out the door. I finish out what she didn’t clean and wait for anyone to come up to the counter. *Ring* though it is loud I hear the bell for the door ring.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment, I need to clean the nozzle here.”

“That’s fine, I can wait.” I flinch but catch myself, so it looks like I flicked something. I turn around with the best smile I can pull off. The sleep-deprived brother of Damian, peers at me from under his hair a frown tugging on his face.

“Oh hey! You came here with detective Grayson last time. Is there anything you would like?”

“Coffee.”

“Any particular kind?”

“Anything that will keep me from sleeping on this counter.” He knocks on the surface twice.

“I Can recommend our D&D potion bottle, it’s a personal favorite of the owners.”

“Why not, how much?” He fumbles around for his pockets, I stop him.

“How about, I make get it for you, and then you pay.” He brings his hands back on the counter and nods.

“I will only be a few minutes, please make yourself comfortable.” I pull out the ingredients for our powerful concoction, the pho fried ice cream, a large potion bottle with a straw, and 20-sided dice. I place the potion bottle in front of him and the ice cream but hand him the dice. He stares at the shiny plastic unmoving.

“I would roll that.” He does what I say and lands on a nine. “Well, sir after this one you can either have another potion or chose two desserts of any kind from our display or menu.” He takes a sip from the straw rather slow; his eyes perk up a bit.

“How Much did you say this was?”

“Oh! That will be $9.23?” He pulls out the exact amount, and I put it away in the register, placing it in the compartment marked D&D.

“And I would like another one of these to go.”

“Sure, would you like it now or before you go?”

“Well now should be nice, I’m leaving in just a bit.” I pull out a cup that is relatively the same size as the potion bottle. I go to give him his cup and notice that he finished the bottle and ice cream. Confusion hits me, but I don’t stare too long to turn to clean the mess. “Have you seen Damian at all?” And there it was.

“No, not since the Gala? Did something happen?”

“There was a…disagreement so he ran out, but if you see him,” He handed me a piece of paper with a string of numbers and an email. “Tell me. That is my number and email.” He does not say anymore and walks out the door, the bell signaling his departure.

_____________________________________________________________

When I got back, I told Damian what happened, he isn’t pleased and is currently pacing the floor.

“My guess is that he knows.” I sigh over my tea and stare sadly at the replaced window.

“No doubt.”

“You know I was rather hoping not to be having another visit from the Batman. What will happen when they find out that I know about the caped crusader thing.”

“He’ll either force into secrecy, turn you into a child crusader, or confine you to the manor.”

“So in other words no privacy.”

“None.”

“As lovely as that would be you told me this was temporary, so why can’t you go back?”

“At the Gala I was supposed to keep you entertained at the table so that we could trap you into to talking about those journals.” I knew it.

“So, you lied to me.” I look at him, faking shock and betrayal.

“It was for the sake of the investigation; I didn’t think that I would end up-.” He examines my expression and face palms. “What’s wrong with you.”

“I like to call it “I laugh in the face of danger” Syndrome, in a moment of despair I crave comedy.”

“You're worse than Grayson.”

“I like him, so I’ll let this one slide.” I sip the warm liquid feeling soothed at the pumpkin spice. “What are you going to do now?” Nightmare jumps on the table noticing my concern and waiting for his answer from me. He walks to the corner where he put his bag then went to the closet pulling out my suitcase. He then grabs his outfit Robin outfit from the coat rack and his other materials. “Get packed, we’re leaving. I’ll grab Nightmare’s things gab whatever you need. And I mean need, don’t pick it up unless it’s necessary.”

“What? I can’t just leave, what about my job? School?!” He Pulls out my backpack and puts some food in it. “Damian!”

“Just trust me, I’ll take care of it! I don’t want you tangled up in my family’s nonsense.” He looks at me something odd swirling in his eyes. “Please.”

“Fine,” I grab my suitcase and pack my box and my compiece which hasn’t gotten back to me on its progress. I throw a few sets of clothes. I open the box to make sure the journals, the scales, and everything else, then I hide it under the clothing and my laptop in the front pocket. I thank myself for making sure to get a suitcase that has a double use as a backpack. In the living room, Damian is all packed the bag is strapped across his chest and he’s holding Nightmare.

“Let’s go.” He hands me Nightmare and pulls me to the balcony. He pulls out and belts with a ring pultruded out on one side swiftly put it around me connecting the loop to his belt. “Hold on tight, and don’t let go till I tell you.” I Sling an arm around him and grip on to Nightmare, he doesn’t hesitate and shoots across the balcony with his grappling gun. I screw my eyes shut. And wait to stop, my heart beats wildly in my chest Nightmare begins purring maybe in hopes to soothe me. I feel something wrong, but it would mean I was away from the Crows. I’m running again, even if it’s not me who chose this it still feels wrong. Because in the direction he’s going it seems that we were leaving Gotham. And for some reason, I feel like it would be a while before I returned.

[primasveraas-writing]

Finnpoe Modern AU- Single Dad!Poe- PART 3

AHH here it is!! I’m really happy with how it turned out; thank you again to the darling Eliane who sparked the orginal idea. The brunt of the story is done, but I hope (and suspect) that I will be returning to this AU soon, in the form of more headcanons or one shots.

I hope you enjoy! All requests are currently open.

Part One l Part Two l Part Three

XXX

Poe buys Finn a drink

...then Finn buys Poe a drink, then Poe buys them both drinks because Finn is on a teacher’s salary and the only gay bar within a reasonable distance gets away with overpriced beer

Poe learns rather quickly that Finn is more than just an incredibly attractive teacher who’s good with his son- Finn is also shy, and humble. Kind and honest. Slightly giggly when tipsy and rather close in proximity after 3 beers

There comes a point when Poe’s chest aches from laughing and he almost puts his hand on Finn’s knee- he almost leans in- then he remembers himself

Buying his son’s teacher a beer is fine- he likes Finn and so does BB

Kissing his son’s teacher is an entirely separate matter

Poe clears his throat abruptly, and he can feel the heat rushing to his already-warm cheeks as he straightens, pulling away from the other man

Finn pulls back too, a split second of hurt flashing across his face

“I’m sorry,” Poe says thickly, wondering how quickly he can flee the scene without seeming like a total ass, and Finn shakes his head

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, unable to fully meet Poe’s eyes. “I should probably get back to Rey, anyways”

Finn stands, and Poe blurts out “it was good to talk with you-” before he can think any of it through

Finn stops, turning back to look at him. He smiles, briefly, then says: “it was”

Poe is still sitting at the bar when Rey and Finn leave

Poe pretends he’s not watching them go

The upside to the next day is that his hangover is very mild, and that BB waits until 7am to wake him up instead of jumping into Poe’s bed at his usual 6am

Small blessings, even on a Saturday

They have a good day, and Poe is able to bury all his worries and regrets about Finn until BB does his homework

(he has to color in a hand turkey and he and Poe are both covered in glitter and ink by the end of it)

But the craft is enough for BB to start talking about school, which he does, pieces of glitter falling to the floor one by one as he signs

We do lots of art in Luke’s class and Finn helps me. He is nice and he brings in candy sometimes. He never rushes me or worries like Mr. C does and he is learning ASL very fast and sometimes he lets us stay out for recess for an extra three minutes and he will push us on the tire swing-

So Poe adds to his list of the way he can describe Finn- adored by his son. Generous. A total sucker for cute kids. Endlessly patient, a quick learner, a sweet tooth… off-limits.

What does he know about Finn, from a few hours of talking and stories from his son? Is it enough to justify his pining?

It doesn’t matter, in the end. At best, he and Finn are friends, and Poe has only BB’s best interests in mind- everything else is secondary to his son

The guilt and ache fade, for the most part. He sees Finn here and there, and the two men keep it friendly and brief

At parent-teacher conferences, Finn barely looks at Poe

It stings in the fall, but even that wound has healed when spring comes. Finn is still removed, a little less open, but he manages a small smile when Poe catches his gaze during the last conference that year

Summer arrives, and Poe has almost stopped dreaming of kissing Finn entirely

There’s a small celebration to celebrate the end of the school year, hosted by one of the PTA moms

BB takes off with some of the kids immediately, leaving Poe to his own devices

He’s half-heartedly participating in a discussion about gluten-free sugar cookies with some of the parents while watching BB chase his friends around the yard

He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see Finn standing there, smiling

“I wanted to tell you what a delight it was to teach BB this year,” Finn says, “and that I’m sorry I won’t have longer with him.”

Poe starts, brow furrowing in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m teaching preschool next year,” Finn says, looking down at his feet before glancing up at Poe again. “I originally applied to work with younger kids, but they didn’t have an opening until next fall.”

“So you’re not teaching BB anymore?” Finn shakes his head. “He’ll be devastated.”

Finn frowns, sadness filling his eyes, but Poe nudges him with his elbow, grinning softly

“I’m happy for you Finn, really. BB loved working with you.”

“I loved it too.” Finn is quiet, serious, and his voice falters before Finn goes silent. He blinks rapidly, and Poe realizes just how much Finn cares about his students

“We’ll have to have you over for dinner. To thank you.”

Finn’s eyes widen, wetness replaced with a brilliant spark. His mouth opens, then there’s the unmistakable sound of children colliding, a solid thud followed by squeals, giggles, and shouts

Poe sighs, looking around for BB, despite knowing in his heart of hearts that BB is almost always involved in whatever shenanigans are happening

“I should go.” Poe rests his hand on Finn’s arm. “We’ll work out a date later,” he says, winking before he turns around to chase after his son

When the time comes, BB is excited as Poe is nervous- he insists on helping with the cooking, which slows things significantly, if only because Poe has to sign each recipe and he runs circles around the small kitchen hovering over his son

BB has little regard for things like measurements or cation around a hot stove- about halfway through cooking the pasta needed for an old family recipe, BB tries to grab a noodle out of the boiling pot

Poe pulls his hand back just in time, rambling warnings and curses in Spanish and signing his worries and reliefs rapidly in ASL

BB stares up at him innocently, and Poe melts

He also puts his son on his back, so Poe finishes the cooking with a seven-year-old pointing where to go and what to do

They both have to squeeze in a shower before Finn arrives, as they’re each covered in sweat and sauce and flour

(Poe finds a bit of salsa behind BB’s ear as he towels his son off, and he sighs)

Poe is dressing when the door rings. First, he hears BB tearing down the hall, his feet thundering, then the door opening- Poe follows his son, finishing the last buttons on his shirt, then Finn is in his living room, BB tugging on his hand to bring Finn into the apartment

“Hi,” Finn says, kneeling down to hug BB

“Hi,” Poe says, and his heart flutters like it did a year ago, when he saw Finn for the very first time

It progresses from there because BB loves Finn, and Poe believes in love at first sight, even if he can’t admit it yet

(He loves Finn too)

Dinners with Luke, Leia, and Finn resume, in addition to meals whenever BB demands that Finn eat with them

(It’s been too long, Dad, BB will say. You and Finn are lonely without each other)

Poe doesn’t know how much he can disagree with his son, partly because BB is largely right, and partly because BB has Poe wrapped around his finger

Even so, it’s nearly a month before Poe asks Finn out properly, with no children or bosses to accompany them

Finn accepts in an instant

Dating Finn is nice- for one, he fits into Poe’s life easily- but he also validates the months Poe spent dreaming of the impossible scenario where he and Finn could finally be together, because dating Finn is better than Poe ever imagined

Finn is funny, more sarcastic than Poe had realized, direct and curious and teasing. Deeply loving and loyal and defensive and stubborn, and also a good kisser, with perpetually warm hands that always find their way into Poe’s grip

That summer is glorious, and none of them- Poe, nor BB, nor Finn- want it to end. It is the beginning of all wonderful things

Poe accepts quickly but with relative uncertainty, that Finn will be Poe’s boyfriend long before he will become one of BB’s caretakers

Finn is good with BB- he speaks ASL and understands his son better than most, and Poe is forever grateful he never had to navigate a wide dating pool as a single father, mostly because he’s certain there’s very, very few people worth bringing home to BB

Even with adjustment periods and the time it takes to figure out how exactly Finn fits into their lives, BB is wildly fond of Finn, who spoils him and makes him laugh

You smile lots when Finn is around BB says one day

Is that good? Poe signs back. Do you like when Finn is around?

Finn makes me happy BB says, and Poe knows that’s all that ever matters

November comes with an with the first snow; BB complains that he misses seeing Finn at school, but he sees Finn every weekend and most weekdays, so he’s satisfied, even if Mr. C is stuffy and old, but nice I guess

They are comfortable together- things are calm, settled into the new school year- and Poe figures he knows what to expect from life with a hyperactive seven year old and a boyfriend he’s hopelessly in love with

What’s unexpected, however, is the call he gets at 3am on a Friday night- or rather, the 6 missed calls, and the one that Poe finally picks up, his heart pounding wildly when he sees Finn’s name on the screen

He hit a pole, Finn explains, because he swerved to avoid hitting a cat

“I’m fine, honestly, Poe, the airbags went off and I was wearing my seatbelt and most of the damage is on the passenger side-”

Finn is fine, he promises, but his car is damaged fairly badly and also Finn rescued the cat, who is also fine, and they have no way to get home

So, Poe wraps BB in a blanket and carries him out to the car, and together they pick up Finn off the street in the dead of night

In five months of dating, it’s the first time Finn spends the night at Poe’s apartment with BB there

Finn sleeps on the couch, next to the makeshift nest of blankets where the kitten finally falls asleep

BB spends his Saturday writing a list of names for the kitten, who is entrusted to his care (and Poe’s) while Finn makes endless calls to a towing company and his insurance, and the bank and the local vet

Finn spends the next night, too, because he doesn’t want to move the cat, who is young and probably scared, and very attached to Poe and BB already

On Sunday, Finn goes to the vet to see if the cat is missing or chipped, and Finn leaves with a purring kitten that belongs only to him

BB is then allowed to name the cat officially; he becomes D-O, much to Finn’s amusment and Poe’s exasperation

(BB doesn’t deign to explain this decision, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask BB why this name was chosen more than ten times)

By then, they’ve also agreed that Finn will stay with BB and Poe until Finn’s car is fixed, so Poe can drive Finn to work, and so that D-O can stay with BB a little longer

Finn sleeps on the couch Sunday night, but BB sneaks out of bed to cuddle with the cat, and Poe finds them Monday morning, BB curled in Finn’s arms, D-O snuggled at their feet

Poe takes a picture before rousing them for school, and the picture is first the background on his phone, then printed and framed on the wall of their first home together

A smaller copy is  slipped into his wallet, too, so that the three of them are with him, always

BB cries at the end of the week, when Finn has his car again, and he and D-O are ready to go home

(By Christmas, Poe has given Finn a key to the apartment, and by Feburary, they’re looking for a place to share together)

When BB turns eight, the three (four) of them move into the apartment that becomes their first home as a family, and it marks another beginning for them all

When BB turns ten, his father gets married, and he with his grandfather walk Poe down the aisle

Poe and BB are a family. This  fact was slow and learned, but absolute all the same and Finn, still gradually, but just as certainly, becomes their family too

[sparkle9510]

Baby Robins and Tiny Ladybugs Ch. 2

Hey guys! Happy holidays! I’m so terribly sorry this is so late! Honestly, I got lazy, wanting to do other things (making presents and drawing stuff), but writers block kept getting to me. I wasn’t satisfied where this was going, so I decided to let inspiration hit me and I am so glad I waited cause indeed it did, and I am much more satisfied with this chapter than my previous idea. With that said, let’s move on with the show!

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

Masterlist

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It was a beautiful day at the city of Paris, France. It was peaceful and quiet. All until laughter filled the air near the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie.

“Grayson did what?” Marinette giggled. “I can’t believe he burnt the pancakes.”

“Grayson was always inept in cooking. Though everyone in the family is. You should see father burning the water,” Damian rolled his eyes. “We’re lucky to have Pennyworth with us.”  

Marinette chuckled, understanding that Damian was actually showing that he cares for his family. It has been 2 years since they had first met and exchanged numbers. They had exchanged emails very frequently, and emails then turned to phone calls before it turned into video calls. All that time spent talking to each other helped them both know each other’s quirks. At least, she hoped so.

“I’m glad your father’s back safe and sound,” Marinette smiled. 

Damian had informed her that his father, who was missing or most likely dead, had been found. He was injured and needed time to heal, but overall, was relatively safe and sound. She was so happy to hear that, especially since his mother figure was not a part of his life anymore so he said.

“I am too, although,” Damian frowned. “now that he’s back, things will be different.” Will I be accepted? He seemed to radiate, from what Marinette can tell.

“Damian,” Marinette decided to interrupt his thoughts. “you are amazing, and from what I hear, your dad will love you.” 

“Angel, thank you,” Damian gave her a small grateful smile.

Marinette grinned, opening her mouth to respond when her mom called her. 

“Dami, I got to go,” She frowned. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Giving their goodbyes, she ended the call before heading downstairs. Down in the kitchen, her dad was kneading some dough and her mom was nearby, a phone in hand.

“Maman?” Marinette called. “What did you need?” 

“Marinette, we just got a huge order of catering, though the location is pretty far.”

“Where Maman?”

“Gotham.”

———-

Damian sighed, hands in the pockets of his jackets. He observed his father looking over the decorations and progress of the setup. His father had decided to hold a gala in honor of his return. He had understood his father had to show he wasn’t fazed and pick his playboy facade back up, but Damian so did not like these meaningless social interactions.

“Why the sigh, Lil’ D?” Dick asked. “You’ve been doing it more often.”

“Probably cause he hasn’t done his weekly thing,” Tim yawned, typing away on his laptop. “Whatever that is.”

Damian scowled and looked away. He couldn’t be bothered with Drake at the moment. It’s been around 2 weeks since he had last called Marinette. She hadn’t shown up and picked up the call the last two times he called, the most recent being yesterday. She had said she was busy and went awol. O-of course he wasn’t really worried, he told himself. She could just be really busy.

“Ooh, you may be right, Replacement,” Jason smirked, leaning onto Dick. “The demon spawn hasn’t stayed his room for hours. I wonder, maybe he’s hasn’t been-” 

Before he could continue, Dick elbowed Jason in the ribs, earning a yelp from the latter. Jason glared at his older brother, only to receive an annoyed look that said, ‘Are you serious?’ In return, he stuck his tongue playfully. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying Todd,” Damian scoffed, narrowing his eyes when he felt someone ruffle his hair. “Cease that, Grayson.”

“Dami, you know what you need?” Dick grinned. “Sugar. And you know what? they have some desserts at the cater table and I’ll bet they’ll let you have something sweet.”

“You know I don’t care for sweets.”

“Just have something, Lil’ D. If anything, you can check on the food,” 

“Very well.”

And with that, Damian begun heading over to the food, but not without hearing Jason whispering to Dick. 

“Dickie Bird, you’re up to something. Spill,” Jason interrogated Dick.

“Just being a good big brother,” Dick cheerily replied.

A good brother? Very unlikely. Damian rolled his eyes. When he got to the area, he saw a large man and a woman setting up the food. It smelled good, and somewhat…familiar? There was one place he thought up, but how could it be here when it was at-

“Maman, Papa! Here are the rest of the order!” a girl, carrying multiple boxes tried to rush past him. 

However, she didn’t notice him and bumped into him, sending her almost tumbling down. That is, until Damian helped steady her. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl replied. “I’m so clumsy. I-”

Damian’s eyes widen. He knew that voice anywhere. Adding the clumsiness, that could only mean…

“Angel?”

———

Marinette’s eyes widen, realizing who it was that stopped her. She figured there was a good chance of seeing him, but she thought it would be more of her telling him than running into him.

“…We’ve got to stop running into each other,” she smiled, slightly embarrassed she had yet again, ran into him. 

“I don’t mind,” Damian chuckled. “Let me help you.”

Grabbing two-third of the boxes, he begun to walk to the table. Marinette immediately followed, still stuck in a dazed state. 

“Oh! Thank you, sir,” Sabine quickly relieved Damian’s load. “I hope our daughter didn’t cause you any trouble.” 

“It’s no problem, Mlle.” Damian smiled. “It’s an honor to finally meet Marinette’s parents. She told me so much about you during our chats.”

“Chats?” Tom questioned. “Oh! You must be that boy she calls frequently. She mentioned how-”

“Papa!” Marinette called. “Don’t you need to finish setting these up or something?”

Her dad chuckled before going back to his work. Marinette sighed, feeling the heat still on her face. Damian didn’t need to hear what she said about him. 

“Marinette,” her mother called, catching her attention. “We’re almost done here. If you want, you can go spend some time with your friend.” 

“Really?! Thanks Maman!” Marinette kissed her parent’s cheeks before grabbing Damian’s hand. “Let’s go!”

———-

“So that’s the Wayne Memorial Clock Tower, that’s the Wayne Animal Sanctuary, and here we are at the Gotham City Central Park.” Damian pointed out to Marinette. 

“The park’s beautiful Damian!” Marinette grinned. 

The plants looked really taken care of. The flowers planted were blooming and bright and beautiful. But before she could say anymore, she felt her stomach rumble, and it wasn’t quiet at all.

“…I’m feeling a bit famished.” Damian looked away. “Do you want to accompany me?”

“S-sure!”

“I know the perfect place.”

———-

“Welcome to the Wayne Manor,” Damian smirked and gave a playful bow. 

“Damian, a-are you sure?” Marinette seemed unsure. “It’s a bit sudden and what if your family doesn’t like me?”

“It’ll be alright. They're probably still handling the arrangements for the gala anyways,” Damian assured her. “Nevertheless, they will like you, I’m sure.”

After all, Damian inwardly, this was all set up by at least Dick.

“Welcome home, Master Damian,” Alfred greeted them. “And I see you brought a guest. I hope he has been well behaved?” 

Marinette giggled and stuck her hand out.

“He’s been quite the gentleman,” she replied. “Though I’m guessing that might not be normal? I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng. Is it safe to guess you’re the all knowing Pennyworth?”

“How right you are Mrs. Dupain Cheng,” Alfred confirmed, reaching out and shaking her hand. “Just Alfred is fine. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m glad Damian made a friend. As you may guess, he has some difficulty getting along with many of his age.”

“He has his quirks,” Marinette admitted. “But he’s a sweet guy once you get underneath the tough layer.” 

“Pennyworth,” Damian interrupted. “I would like to request a meal prepared for both of us.” 

Alfred nodded. “Very well, young Master. While I do that, you may keep yourself occupied in the living room.”

Damian took that time to do a quick tour of the house. Of course, he avoided the areas that could reveal the family’s nighttime occupation. They may have made it hard for visitors to figure it out, but Marinette wasn’t normal. Of that, he knew. She probably will figure it out within the day if he wasn’t careful enough.

He did show her a quick view of his room. It was the place where they chatted anyways, so Marinette was somewhat familiar with it. She complimented many of his drawings hanging on the wall (No, he was not blushing. It was just kinda hot in the room), and was curious about his weapons in the room. Not long after, they decided to hang in the living room, where they quietly conversed.

“Alfie!” Dick’s voice rang out. “We’re home~ We got hungry and thought we might as well have some of your wonderful cooking.” 

Oh no. This is going to get troublesome pretty quickly.

“Hey, look who the demon spawn brought in,” Jason’s voice rang from the door entrance of the living room. “Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” 

“Close your mouth before you sprout even more ridiculous ideas, Todd,” Damian spat. “What are you doing here.” 

“We got hungry,” Tim replied, walking into the room while typing on his laptop. “We didn’t want to go out and eat.” 

Damian scoffed. “Nice cover up. Did Grayson tell you to say that?”

“Chill, Lil’ D,” Dick appeared right behind him. “Let’s not have our usual fights while your friend is here. Speaking of which, introductions are due. Hello miss, I’m-”

“Grayson,” Marinette interrupted. “And you’re probably Drake, and that’s Todd. A-ah! I’m sorry I interrupted! I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

“It’s all good cupcake,” Jason grinned, “but call me Jason. Jason Todd’s my full name.”

“Tim Drake’s mine.”

“Richard Grayson, but call me Dick.” 

“D-dick? But isn’t that…?” Marinette questioned, but decided to drop it, deciding to turn to Damian. “Wait, I thought- Damian, you didn’t tell me that those were their last name.”

“It wasn’t important,” Damian shrugged. “They’re not of importance.”

He looked at Marinette to see her eyebrow raised. A silent scolding clear on her face that made him feel a twinge of guilt.

“Ignore him,” Marinette turned back to the group. “He doesn’t say it often, but he does care about each of you.”

“Marinette,” Damian glared at her, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to faze her.

“So, the Demon Spawn actually cares for us,” Jason grinned, earning Damian’s death glare, “How sweet~ The devil has a soft side.”

“Todd,” Damian began before he was interrupted. 

“Demon Spawn?” Marinette asked. “Isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Tim explained. “Though he does acts like one sometimes.”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Dick whispered to her. 

Marinette nodded, “Ah. Wait, Dami, is that also why you call me Angel now and then? You know, Demons and Angels are...?”

Damian winced. Maybe it was a mistake bringing her to the manor. He wasn’t going to escape with his dignity intact.

“He calls you Angel?” Jason’s eyes bulged in glee. “Ah, this is good blackmail.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Marinette warned. “You’re not gonna use this as blackmail.”

“And what are you going to do about it, munchkin?” Jason smirked. “You can’t stop me.”

“Can too,” Marinette stuck out her tongue. “Bet this tiny girl can beat your butt.”

With that, they decided to have a match after lunch. Damian knew she could take care of herself. Hell, that was a part of why he quickly was taken in. But Jason was older and had more experience, he was sure. Plus, his violent tendencies might take over, and he didn’t want her to get too hurt.

———-

Marinette was in awe when she got into their workout room. It was huge, with many equipment that she had not seen used as a workout as well. But luckily, there was a large empty area, with mats she assumes is the area where they spar. Damian had told her they do that to practice their self defense.

“Ten bucks that Marinette is going to beat Jason,” Tim grinned, looking over to Dick. 

“Fine,” Dick agreed. “She’s a firecracker, but don’t think it’s enough to beat Jason just yet.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “Imbeciles. Betting over things like this?”

“Dami, it’s alright,” Marinette grinned, feeling a bit mischievous. “It’s nice that Tim believes in me. And if anything, it’ll be fun to rub the fact I wiped the floor with Jason to both him and Dick right?” 

“No mercy,” Damian smirked. 

Marinette shared his smirk, taking position on the mat.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Jason announced. 

“Big mistake,” she chuckled. 

With that, they began. She sent a big punch followed by a side sweep, predicting where he would move next. He was good, dodging and landing his own hits, but she also was able to land her own. After a few minutes, she did see a certain pattern. He tended to reply on his fists more than his feet and left his side open. It wasn’t a big blind spot from what she could tell, but a blind spot, nonetheless. It was obvious that he spent some training making sure his weaknesses were minimal.

Looking for the right opening, she noticed he still had his leather jacket on. Maybe she could… She looked at her surroundings. Okay, nothing else to work with but she could still do something.

Dodging a right punch, she spun behind him. Before he could react, she grabbed onto the back of his leather jacket, and flipped over him, letting the jacket go over his head. She yanked on it so that it started to come off, but before it completely came off the sleeves, she dived under him before using that sudden weight and pull to keep him pretty subdued as she dragged them both on the floor, her being on top of him.

“Owned by a pixie,” Dick teased. 

“Fuck you,” Jason replied. “though he’s right. You got me. Nice job kiddo. Clever idea. Though… hm, I think there might be a slight rip now.”

“Ah! Sorry,” Marinette apologized. “I tend to use my environment to help me, and your jacket was the only thing…”

“It’s alright,” Jason waved off. “I can get Alfred to fix this.”

“No, wait, lemme fix it since I caused it.” She insisted.

Relenting, Jason handed over the jacket. Quickly, she grabbed her sewing kit that she carried everywhere with her. Taking out the necessary items, she quickly went to work. It took 10 minutes, she fixed up the jacket. It was just the stitching that came undone.

“Good as new,” she cheered, handing it back to him. 

“Thanks Tinkerbell,” he grinned. 

“Tinkerbell?” Tim raised his eyebrow. 

“Yeah, she can find things and make something new out of it, assuming she can, and she can fix things,” Jason shrugged. “Plus, she’s as small as a pixie.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at his jab at her height. Damian walked next to her and gave his hand.

“Good job Angel,” he praised. “Knew you could do it.” 

“Thanks Damian,” Marinette smiled. 

“Dick, you lost the bet, so pay up,” Tim cackled. 

“So you were betting instead of getting ready for the gala?” 

Everyone turned and standing at the doorway was a man in a suit. Tim and Dick had quickly walked over to him and informed him of what was going on, from what Marinette was hearing. 

“Welcome to the manor,” the man smiled, sticking his hand out. “I’m Bruce Wayne. Thank you for taking my son down a peg or two.”

“A pleasure,” she replied. “wait, Wayne, then does that mean?” 

She swiveled to Damian, who only smirked and nodded. Oh dear. Ooooh dear. She was with the Waynes. The rich billionaire family, and she just beat one of them. 

“Wait,” Dick was laughing when he realized. “Marinette, you didn’t realize we were Waynes?” 

“I-I just thought,” Marinette sputtered, rambling off a bit. “the W-waynes were pretty common. I didn’t think you guys were the Waynes. Though I guess the manor and butler should've tipped it off.....”

“… I like her,” Jason grinned. “Can we keep her?” 

Marinette still felt a bit embarrassed, though Damian gave her a small pat.

“She’s not a pet,” Bruce joked back. “Marinette, I know your parents will be catering during the Gala, but how would you like to accompany my sons and keep them entertained during that time? They tend to find trouble when bored.”

And that was how Marinette got swept up into more of the Wayne’s shenanigans (with her parents’ permission of course). They gave her a beautiful dress to wear (where did they get it so quickly?). And at night, they came to the gala by limo. 

“Ready, Angel?” Damian offered his arm as Marinette came out of the limo. 

“It’s now or never,” Marinette took it, letting him lead into the building. 

 The night was fun. She danced with all of the members of the Wayne family. Jason, pulling her into a very energetic tango. But she danced with Damian the most. Though like Bruce had predicted, she had to stop the boys from starting bits of trouble here and there, especially when they would try to do it behind her back. Jason did take a picture and suspiciously began typing on his phone, but she did not give it any thoughts. Before they knew it, the night was over, and they dropped her off to the  Gotham Royal Hotel.

“I had a great time,” Marinette chuckled. “Thank you, guys! I had a great time!”

“No prob, Tinkerbell,” Jason grinned. “We’ll keep in touch.”

“We’ll come visit,” Dick winked. 

Waving them off, Marinette stood by the doors for a few seconds. She then felt the vibration from her phone. Pulling it out, she saw she had a new message, from Damian. It was a link followed by a, ‘Todd is an imbecile’.”

She pressed it, noticing it took her to the social platform, Tweeter. 

@JayTodd

Welcoming Tinkerbell as an honorary member of the Wayne family. Don’t let looks fool you. This pixie can beat your ass.

The picture earlier! She realized. At least, he didn’t actually show her face, not completely where people can identify her. But this tweet he sent was already at 1.3K and counting. 

“JASON!”

———-

And after that, they did meet up more often. Sometimes Damian and his family would visit her, and sometimes they flew her over. She felt bad and didn’t want to keep having them fly her over, but they insisted.

After the first social media fiasco, Marinette did appear more frequently on their social media, though hidden. She ended up making an account for it though, but everyone didn’t know who she was, only knowing her as Tinkerbell.

It was a fun time, and she was really happy. She had another family that cared for her, who she cared for. And she wouldn’t change it any other way.She hummed softly, sewing her newest idea when her phone rang. 

“Hello? Jason?” Marinette greeted, a bit curious.

The other line was silent for a while, making her worry.

“Jason what-”

“He’s gone.”

“What?” Marinette’s eyes widen with worry. “Who are you talking about? Who’s gone?”

“Damian, Marinette,” Jason replied, his tone dead. “There was an accident and…”

“He’s gone.”

First Prev Next

Masterlist

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ANNNNND THERE WE HAVE IT! THE NEXT CHAPTER FINISHED. AND THIS WAS TOTALLY LONGER THAN THE LAST ONE AS A TREAT. (Ahhh I wrote a lot of interruptions haha ^^;)I hope you guys liked it!! Any questions, then let me know here or in my ask, whatever’s fine! Btw him disappearing is during the time he died from Heretic. So, he’s gonna be dead for a bit 0w0. 

Taglist (let me know if I forgot anyone):

@mooshoon @bluerosette23 @zestyzealot @luciferge @gingerdaile @crazylittlemunchkin @queenmj10 @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @razzledazzle247 @dorkus-minimus @this-is-vander​

[therealcalicali]

Of Bards and Bastards

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: None

Type: Drabble

Wordcount: 1,638

This is for @rosepetals-flyingbirds​  Writing Challenge.

Prompts: Dogs are better than People/You’re a bastard

Geralt had no desire to reside at your family’s quant Inn with adjacent Tavern. However, he was a man that disliked having his ear talked off. So after many days of being pestered by Jaskier, he gave in. And it was a good thing too. Because not only had the two men been sleeping rough for weeks, but the weather had turned.

So needless to say, they were lucky to happen upon your township.

“Welcome to The Laughing Archer.” Your Aunt quipped with a pleasant smile. “I’m Ausalái and the wee thing behind the counter is my niece, Y/N. How can we be of help this evening?”

As she spoke, her ample cleavage caught Jaskier’s attention. Though to be fair, he did his best to not make it obvious. Because despite her being rather slender, your Aunt was buxom. Not that your Uncle ever complained.

“It is nice to meet you both. I’m Jaskier and this--------”

The larger man elbowed him in the ribs.

After warning the Bard numerous times to desist being sociable, it was obvious that he had learned nothing. Thus, Geralt decided it was best to take over.

“We require two rooms.” He said, his voice more of a low rumble than anything.

“Two?” Jaskier repeated, his eyes twinkling with surprise. “Geralt, either you have been lying for weeks, or we are flushed in coin. I figured it was all spent since we’ve been sleeping upon grass like farm animals.”

Ignoring the jest, the large man opened handed five pieces of silver to your Aunt. Enough for food and drink for four days.

“Are you a Knight, Ser?” You asked as you stepped forward. “I myself have never taken up sword as of yet. However, everyone says I’m a marvel with the bow and arrow. My Uncle trains me every----------.”

“The rooms.” Geralt gruffly interrupted, utterly ignoring every word that had come from your lips.

And you thought him rude for it, he was a patron. Thus, you simply nodded and bid them to follow.

After showing the men their lodgings, you went in search of fresh linens. But as you were descending the stairs, Jaskier asked if he could trouble you for honeyed milk. To which Geralt promptly rolled his eyes. But you had always been hospitable.

So despite it being rather late, you promised to bring a surprise to go with his desired beverage.

“I will have you know that aside from my Archery skills, I’m also known to be handy in the kitchens. But you shall see for yourself.” You added.

“Thank you kindly, Y/N. I can hardly wait.” Jaskier replied, clasping his hand in anticipation.

As soon as you were out of earshot, he went to Geralt’s door, which was located directly across from his own. He then knocked for some time before his burly companion finally appeared.

“What?”

“Is that a nice way to greet someone?”

Geralt promptly shut the door in Jaskier’s face. But he didn’t do so out of hatred. In fact, he had grown capable of tolerating the Bard’s peculiar temperament. However, after his recent skirmish with a Wayth Raider, he was in no mood for childish banter.

Still, Jaskier never could take a hint. So instead of returning to his own chamber, he entered uninvited.

“Why must you be.................you?” Jaskier asked. “First, you’re absolutely rude to that poor girl. And now, you direct your anger towards me.”

“Get out so I can rest.”

“See?”

Without replying, Geralt took a seat upon the bed. He then set his weapon aside and began unlacing his boots. Undeterred by the silence, Jaskier regaled him with his thoughts about the Inn. Declaring your Aunt a fetching woman, and you, a rare beauty.

“She just has that certain something one cannot explain.” The Bard added, his hands making random gestures. “Though pretty, she’s quite unaware of it. Which, in my eyes, makes her even more attractive.”

“Hmm.” Geralt scoffed as he threw a boot aside. He then started on the other, shaking his head in annoyance. “You pestered me for a proper resting place only to ogle women.”

“Do you ever stop grunting long enough to enjoy life?”

After clarifying that he never ogled, Jaskier declared that he only admired the fairer sex. And personally, he saw nothing wrong with it. But as expected, Geralt ignored his words.

“You behave as if you do not want companionship.” The Bard noted. “Even those of sour disposition want another person at their side.”

“Dogs are better than people.”

With a sigh, Jaskier agreed that humans could be treacherous. However, that did not mean one should resign themselves to a life of solitude. He then returned to discussing you once more. Declaring that you had the most cheerful disposition he had encountered in some time.

In fact, he planned to ask for Archery lessons in order to become better acquainted. Though Geralt chuckled inwardly at the notion, he remained silent.

“Lord Jaskier” You sang from the doorway. In your hand you held a platter of sweet cakes, sour loaf, and the requested honeyed milk. “As promised, I have come bearing morsels to fill your belly.”

“Y/N, you are an absolute sweetheart. Is all that for me?”

Your cheeks burned hot as you reminded him that they had paid for room and board. Thus, you were obligated to feed him well. Your eyes then went to the one called Geralt. And despite him being curt since their arrival, you asked if he too would like something from the kitchens.

“No.”

“Ignore my friend. He’s rather tired, so let us leave him to his sleep.” Jaskier said as he followed you out the door. “Besides, I wish to hear about life in this quant township. It seems rather lively from what I have seen thus far.”

The following morning, you woke early to assist with chores.

And as always, your Aunt and Uncle chastised you, insisting that you return to bed. Because despite not being your true parents, they had not taken you in to make you a servant. Nevertheless, you enjoyed helping the family business flourish. So, you kept to assisting the workers.

After helping the women clean the adjacent Tavern, you went to the kitchens. Indeed, you were thrilled about impressing the new lodgers. Thus, you set to work, gathering all manner of fresh ingredients. Even going so far as to enter the chicken coop that you typically avoided. Because despite eggs being a staple in most dishes, the chickens fought like hell to keep them.

“Y/N, you have the women cooking up a feast this morning.” Your Uncle exclaimed before stealing a piece of fried trout. “Just try not to overdo things.”

“I have told you before, I’m quite capable of running the kitchens.” You replied with a great smile. “Just make sure you return with adequate game for Suppertime.”

As he departed with his companions for a hunt, you checked to make sure the workers had things under control. When satisfied, you took the first dishes to the Inn’s dining area.

Since they had been residing longer, you first served the large party of Merchants before going to Jaskier and Geralt.

“I hope you slept well, Y/N. ” The Bard exclaimed, eager to delve into the first meal of the day. He then surveyed all you were setting before them. “Everything smells delightful. Ooh, what is the red delicacy there?”

“Pomegranate rolls filled with custard with strawberry molasses. It is a creation of my own doing.”

As you further explained the other dishes, Jaskier bit into a roll. Instantly, his eyes fluttered as if someone had rubbed his back. He then excitedly looked at Geralt.

“I know you dislike sweets. But you simply must try one of these” The Bard urged before taking another bite. “The girl’s hands are pure magic.”

“I’ll pass.” Geralt replied with brow raised.

He then lifted his mug of spiced ale and looked about the Inn. Naturally, you were somewhat hurt by his refusal. But you held your tongue and returned to the kitchens. After retrieving the second course, you served everyone with the same enthusiasm as before.

“Y/N, I hope this is not forward of me…” Jaskier began with some anxiety.

As he wavered, Geralt eyed him. From traveling together, he knew very well that the Bard was no competitor. So why he wished to trouble you, made little sense. Nevertheless, he decided to say nothing.

“Would you be keen to show me the basics of Archery? I mean, if you are not too busy with other things. Or people.”

“Of course, Lord Jaskier. It would be an honor to teach you.”

“Lord?” Geralt repeated.

Indeed, he realized that you truly believed his companion was of noble birth. So despite his usually stoic demeanor, he could not keep from chuckling.

“And what is so funny, Ser?” You asked.

“You.” Geralt replied as his intense gaze meeting yours. “Why assume him a Lord?”

“Because, he carries himself with dignity and kindness.” You replied with some irritation. “Besides, who’s to say that a Lord could not decide to become a Bard?”

“Quite the stupid assumption.”

“As you please, Ser. But I shall perceive your friend as I see fit. Would you like to know how I have come to perceive you?”

“Not particularly.”

There was a long silence, your ire festering as if time had stood still for ages. But eventually, you glared at the handsome boarder, refusing to let him have the last word.

“You’re a bastard!”

You then hastened to the kitchens; leaving Geralt perplexed and Jaskier laughing so hard, the other boarders began to stare.

[witchofthescions]

Ernastral's apartment was small, only two rooms. The front room, where her dinner table was set up, and the back room where her bedroom and workspace were set up. Thankfully she didn't really need a stove to prepare meals, thanks to the tools she got from the culinarian's guild. But she still needed a place to set the meals down once she was finished.

"Hey, Lenar," she said over the sizzle of cooking meat, "can ya clear the table for me?"

"Alright." With a chirp, his seeing-eye carbuncle hopped off of his shoulder and landed on the table, promptly sniffing around the assorted papers and drawing Lenar's attention to them. He gathered them all into a pile, carefully arranging them into something resembling a neat stack, and took them into the other room to leave them on her desk. She could worry about whether any were upside down or not later.

She set out two places, dishes clacking as she placed them down. The food was still steaming hot, freshly made with her own two hands. There was just something so satisfying about a home cooked meal. Even better when you got to share it with someone you cared about.

Lenar took a seat at the table, right where Ernastral predicted he'd sit. She grinned victoriously to herself, taking the seat opposite him. Her chair scraped over the ground, letting him know where she was. That she was right in front of him, as she should be.

"Eft steak, with some fresh chamomile tea!" She tapped the plate and the cup in turn to let Lenar know where they were.

"Ah, using the special recipe you served the sultana, are you?" Lenar sounded amused. "I'm flattered that such a renowned chef thinks I'm worthy of such a feast."

Ernastral laughed. "Aw, come on, don't sell yourself short. You and the sultana are both good friends of mine, of course I'd serve you nothin' but the best!"

Lenar laughed, much more self-consciously than her. "You're far too kind, Erna."

"Nonsense! We've been travelin' together for the better part of two years. Even got ya callin' me by an affectionate nickname." She grinned as she reached over to pet the carbuncle. "Think we've well earned the right to call each other friends."

"Two years," Lenar marveled. "It's all gone by so fast. Never would have imagined the thaumaturge I teamed up with to track down some pirates would graduate to some sort of hero."

"Never thought the quiet little arcanist I teamed up with would go on to stop a thousand year war." She gently nudged his hand.

"I can hardly take all the credit for that."

"Then share it, at least!" She offered the carbuncle a bite of her steak. It gladly nibbled at the meat. She wasn't sure if carbuncles even needed to eat, but considering how many times Lenar's mischievous little summon kept stealing her snacks it only seemed fair to let it have some. "I couldn't have gotten this far without you, and you know it. You've saved my behind so many times. Really, thank you."

Lenar fell silent, opting to pick at his meal instead of answering. But from the faint tinge of red on his cheeks, Ernastral could tell that he was flattered.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before Ernastral spoke up again.

"My nameday's coming up next week."

"Oh, truly? Time really does fly. Your last one was, what, right around..."

Lenar trailed off. Right around the banquet that went so horribly wrong.

"Unless Nidhogg plans on showing his ugly mug anytime soon, I don't see how things could possibly—"

"Don't jinx it," Lenar said, the corners of his mouth picking up into a smile despite himself. "You deserve a decent nameday, not another clusterfuck."

Ernastral burst out laughing at Lenar's choice of vulgarity. "Don't I know it! Still, as long as Nidhogg doesn't show up between now and the thirteenth, I'm planning on heading back to my folks'."

"Spending the day with your family," Lenar remarked. "Not a bad idea."

"You up for coming along?"

"Ah," Lenar looked surprised, "me? Truly?"

"Yeah, truly," Ernastral replied, leaning over the table and fixing him with an amused look. "It's a little outta the way, granted, since it's up near Farreach."

"So you're from the far side of Abalathia."

"Yep! What say you?"

Lenar gave this some careful consideration. "Will this involve airship travel?"

"Nah, I asked Midgardsormr if he'd be willing to fly me over there. I can ask if he'd be willing to accommodate one more—Alphinaud's coming along, too."

Lenar visibly relaxed at the assurance that there would be no airship. "That would be acceptable, as long as Midgardsormr is willing."

"Alright! I'll talk to him in the morning." Ernastral beamed at Lenar, barely able to contain her excitement. "I think you'll like my folks."

"Are they as excitable as you?" "Ha! Hardly. They're just good, honest folks making their way in the world. You know the type."

"Well, that's a relief. I don't think I'd be able to handle more of you."

"Oh, don't worry, you've just gotta contend with my four younger siblings."

Lenar nearly choked on his food. "Four?!"

"I've told you I come from a big family!"

"Yes, but..." Lenar mulled some details over in his head. "You've mentioned an older sister and brother, plus four more... there's seven of you?!"

"Yep!"

"How in the..." Lenar sat there, mouth agape. He shook it off and let out an amused huff. "My parents would be right jealous."

"Oh?"

"They had a devil of a time having me, and yet here you are with your six siblings!" Lenar laughed, indicating he was at least partially joking. "Some people have all the luck. Though I'm sure your parents barely got a lick of sleep some nights."

"According to ma, the twins were the biggest handful," Ernastral said with a laugh. "She had a toddler, a small child, and two pre-teens on top of two newborns. After baby Kyrss she decided seven was more than enough."

"I'm amazed she even had time to have another."

"To be fair, she wasn't expecting to have more than two to begin with. Then I came along and then the rest just followed one after the other."

"As I said, some people simply have all the luck."

Ernastral set her utensils down, her plate long since cleared. "You ever wanted siblings, Lenar?"

Lenar hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "At times. It was quiet around the house more often than I liked. It would have been nice to have a playmate or two."

"Yeah, I can't imagine how quiet it must be without siblings. I still remember it being quiet sometimes when it was just me, Hirsk, and Eyhil."

"It wasn't always lonely, though," Lenar said. He set his own utensils down and leaned back in his chair. "Haurchefant was the closest I came to an older brother, and Hilda was like a little sister at times."

"What about the Scions?"

"They've been like family, too." He paused for a moment. "That includes you."

Ernastral found herself grinning like a fool. Her face felt hot, but not in a bad way. "Aw, you're too kind."

"I'm only speaking the truth. You're a dear friend, if not family to me. I'm well glad we crossed paths, and even gladder that we chose to stick it out."

Ernastral felt tears springing into her eyes. She was glad Lenar couldn't see it as she wiped them away. "Yeah. I am too."

Lenar picked up his cup and held it up in a toast. "To your upcoming nameday. May we both see many more."

[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  &  playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

[alicedopey]

Gratulerer med dagen

Fandom: Vikings

Genre: Fluff , Modern AU

Pairing: Harald x Reader

Warning: None

Words: 1785

Summary: You haven’t been feeling well because of a loss and Harald wants to make you feel better for your birthday.

A/N: This is written for my dear @gearhead66​ to celebrate her birthday. I’m sorry for the delay, love and I hope you will like it. Huge thanks to my other half here @naaladareia​ for the wonderful moodboard.  Also, I took the liberty to imagine lockdown was over everywhere. 

Harald looked at you, sleeping peacefully in the care while he was driving. You needed to rest, this year had been rough enough – and it was only halfway done. Losing your aunt had been hard on you and this broke Harald’s heart every time he read some sadness in your eyes. He knew how it felt to lose someone dear. His parents had died in a car crash when he and Halfdan were teenagers, and they only had one another to rely on. They never really felt at ease with anyone apart from each other and it was still like that today… well, until he met you.

You represented what Harald had craved for his whole life, a woman to love who would love him in return. Right now, he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you happy and satisfied – hence his plans for today to celebrate your very special day. It was a good thing lockdown was over in the USA or everything would have been ruined.

After the funeral, he knew he had to take you far away from your place. He suggested to go and visit his family, meaning Halfdan in Norway.

“What about my dog?” You had exclaimed.

“We will take him, of course.” He smiled. How could he leave behind the fluffy thing that brought them together?

The day you met was still on his mind. You were walking two dogs when he first saw you, smiling and laughing at their antics. He liked you instantly, even more when he got to know you. First, he had invited you for coffee a few times then for dinner when he had tried to cook a nice meal at his place. Trying was the word since their main course had ended up burnt in the oven. You had laughed and promised to teach him a few things. In the meantime, he bought some sweet things for you to enjoy.

It’s been a year now and he had felt it was the right time for you and his brother to meet. Halfdan had always been the odd one but you got along quite well with him. Well enough for you to trust him to take care of your dog for the day while the two of you were away. His brother was good with animals, not with women. Harald could not even count the number of girls he had scared away. He was a free bird, enjoying women from time to time but never committing. So, he often mocked his brother for searching love so frantically. Harald did not care and kept searching. Now, he had finally found the one and he would not let go.

Here he was, driving from Oslo to his secret destination. He had woken you up at dawn this morning and you had not stopped grumbling until he had told you that you looked like the dog you used to take care of. You had struck out your tongue at him and hopped in the car in silence. Then, you had fallen asleep instantly.

The sun was high in the sky when they finally reached Trondheim. Perfect. He parked the car and gently shook you awake. You slowly opened your eyes.

“We’re there, love.”

Rubbing your eyes, you threw a look outside to try and guess where you had stopped.

“We are in Trondheim. Do you want to get a closer look?”

“Why not?” You both exited the car. Harald put his huge backpack on and he gave you yours.

“First stop?”

“Lead the way, Sir.” He kissed you softly and took you by the hand. You stopped in front of a huge cathedral.

“Wow…this is beautiful”. You whispered, in awe.

“It is, isn’t it? This is the Nidaros Cathedral. Want to get inside?”

“Please.” You almost pleaded. The moment you set a foot inside the Cathedral, you were amazed by its architecture, a beautiful mix of Roman and Gothic styles.

“It was built from 1080 to 1300 and had been the place where the Norwegian Kings are crowned since the Middle Ages.”

He knew he had captured your interest, then. You were really fond of history.

“So, Harald V was crowned here?” You asked and he nodded. “I guess it means that you would be crowned in this Cathedral if you ever became Harald VI, King of all Norway.”

Harald rolled his eyes. “You definitely watch this show too much.”

But he liked it as well and the way you would compare his life to the ‘real’ Harald’s life. He did not mind because he was assuredly more in luck than the lonely king you were so fond of.

Harald let you wander around the place and take a lot of pictures. He sometimes added some historical comments to which you listened intently. When you went out, it was noon. Your stomach grumbled loudly.

“What?” You said when you saw he was smiling. “You woke me up really early and I did not have time to eat. I’m hungry.”

“Then I think you will like our next stop.”

To your surprise, Harald did not take the direction of the town center. “Don’t worry.” He explained when he saw your interrogative stare. “I know a better place than here. The town is really nice, and I promise we will come back someday, but it is too noisy for what I have in mind.”

You went back to the car. Harald drove for a few miles before parking in a beautiful green valley full of trees surrounded by a lake.

“Let me introduce you to the Golden Road or as we call it, Gyldne Omvei.”

“Harald, this is breathtaking.” He chuckled lightly and kissed your forehead.

“Let’s go get some lunch.”

You found yourself in front of a nice little restaurant, Gulburet. Inside, it looked like a farm. It was warm and cozy.

A middle-aged plump woman welcomed you. “Hallo, vellkommen.”

You let Harald do the talking then you sat down at a nice wooden table.

“I know it’s not much but I can assure you will like it. The food is really good and they have a lot of Norwegian specialties.”

“My dear, dear King Harald…” You set a comforting hand on his. “I love it. You couldn’t have pleased me more.”

They were served different homemade meals: soup, bread, goat cheese from the local farms and a large piece of Fyrstekake, an almond and cardamom pie. The meal was simple but absolutely delicious.

Afterwards, he watched with a tender smile as you listened to the stories told by the host, giving a good impression of farm life over a 100 years ago. The stories, told in English especially for you, had caught your attention and you were listening to every word that came out of her mouth. It was a relief to see you so enthusiast about something after the troubled times you had to go through.

When the story was finished, you fiercely hugged him. Harald simply hugged you back and you stayed there for a while, enjoying each other’s embraces.

“Ready for more?”

You tilted your head upwards to look him in the eye. “We are not done?”

He shook his head. “Far from it. Brace yourself though because there will be a lot of walking.”

He let go of you and handed you your backpack. “Argh walking?”

“Yes, grumpy girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I promise you won’t regret it though.”

He was right, you did not regret it. Harald took you to Inderøy where you visited two medieval churches and there also was a lot of hiking. It did not bother you. The trails were not that difficult to walk on and the landscape was so beautiful. It was this wonderful mixture of valleys and mountains, green and blue in front of your eyes with every step you took. That could easily make you forget you had been walking for hours.

“And there’s our final stop.”

You lifted your head at Harald’s words. The sun was slowly setting down on the valley, its numerous colors being reflected in the lake downwards.

Lost in the amazing view the Norwegian landscapes were offering, you did not hear Harald coming near you. He circled your waist and set his head on your left shoulder.

“You like that?” He kissed your ear, tickling your skin with his beard.

“It’s wonderful”. You whispered, putting your hands over his. “This day was wonderful…thank you.”

“Everything for you, my sweet…and I’m not quite done yet.”

He made you turn around and you discovered he had set down a whole picnic on a blanket.

You looked at him, amazed.

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding in this huge thing all day.” You exclaimed and lightly punched his shoulder.

“What can I say? I’m a man full of surprises.”

He helped you sit down on the blanket and took place near you. Then he filled two glasses with champagne before giving you one.

“Gratulerer med dagen, my love.” His glass clinked with yours.

You watched him closely, tilting your head on the side. “You just wished me a happy birthday, right?” He nodded. “Harald, thank you for today, for all of this. I didn’t know I needed it but it helped a lot.”

As you took a sip of champagne to fight back the emotions that were invading your heart, Harald squeezed your hand to comfort you.

“You don’t have to thank me. I did it gladly and I would do it again without a hesitation. Losing someone is never easy and it also made me realize how unbearable it would be for me if I lost you. I could not imagine my life without you. In fact, I want to tell the whole world that you are mine as much as I am yours.”

You gasped as Harald pulled a little velvety box from his pocket.

“Harald, are you…?”

He opened the box to reveal a white gold ring set with diamonds. “Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked with his deep hoarse voice that always sent shivers running down your spine.

“Oh…err…of course. Yes! Yes! I will marry you!”

Your half full glass fell on the blanket as you threw yourself in his arms. You exchanged a few kisses, laughing and crying at the same time. Then Harald put the engagement ring on your finger. You admired it, your eyes still full of tears.

You looked at your Northern man before saying “Jeg elsker deg*, my King.” His eyes widened so much you laughed. “Yes, I did some research. I can speak Norwegian too, you know.”

He chuckled. “Jeg elsker deg også**, my Queen.”

* Jeg elsker deg: Je t’aime

** Jeg elsker deg også: Je t’aime aussi

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