#there's more but i want to finish my beans on toast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unabashegirl · 3 months ago

Text

Different 7 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hiii, here is a new chapter. I hope you enjoy.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

if you would like to submit request for the next one shot. leave them here x :)

masterlist

She watched him as he lay beside her, his arm securely placed over her waist, holding her close. His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth slightly open, and his expression relaxed. She reached over and raised the blinds a bit to see better while making sure the sun didn’t wake him. Leaning in, she kissed his nose softly before carefully sliding out of bed.

Y/N brushed her teeth, ran her fingers through her hair, then washed her face before heading downstairs. She prepared some coffee for everyone, knowing they would need it.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled at Sarah, who was trying to figure out how to start the coffee machine. Sarah turned around, smiling sheepishly at Y/N, a bit embarrassed.

“Need some help?” Y/N giggled, offering a hand.

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled as she leaned back against the counter while Y/N took out almond milk and regular milk from the fridge.

“How’d you sleep?” Y/N asked as she struggled to pour the coffee beans without spilling them.

“Good,” Sarah blushed. “The bed was really comfy,” she nodded repeatedly, trying to convince her.

“You mean Mitch was comfy?” Y/N teased, causing Sarah’s eyes to widen and her cheeks to turn pink, reminding her of Harry.

“How did you know?” Sarah giggled, shaking her head, surprised that Y/N had noticed and hadn’t said anything before, especially with the boys around. Sarah liked that.

“It was easy. The way you both acted around each other. I just figured,” Y/N shrugged as she walked to the pantry. “Would you like something to eat? Eggs, avocado toast, oatmeal, cereal, fruit salad?” she offered as she looked through.

“Whatever you’re having,” Sarah replied, and Y/N nodded, taking out a few avocados and a loaf of bread.

“How was Harry?” Sarah asked, making Y/N instantly gloat. Y/N started preparing everything while Sarah sat on one of the stools on the other side of the island.

“He was good,” Y/N smiled, remembering yesterday’s events and replaying them in her mind. She nodded back and began helping Y/N make the food.

“Do you want to sit outside?” Y/N asked as she noticed how beautiful the day was.

“Yes, it looked great out there.” After the food was ready, they carried it outside and sat at a table beside the pool. Y/N could still remember her mom purposely asking the decorator for a small table outside just so they could enjoy the nice weather when given the chance.

“Do you really like Harry?” Sarah asked bluntly as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I do. I really do,” Y/N answered, then took a bite of her toast. “It’s not that hard to do so.” She took another sip of coffee to wash down the food before leaning back in her seat. “He’s just so different, so gentle, so sweet, and so carefree. I feel so comfortable around him. I find it easy to talk to him about anything, whether its about my parents or my feelings.” Y/N tore her gaze from the sky to meet Sarah’s.

“I guess I’m asking because you’re so out of his league, you know?” Sarah said. There it was again—the constant need to categorize people based on their appearance.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” Y/N explained before continuing to eat and enjoy her breakfast.

“What do you mean?” Sarah questioned, finishing her breakfast and now just drinking her cappuccino.

“Do you see this apartment? I’m sure you noticed the smiling family portraits on the wall by the entrance” Y/N cleaned the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Yet, this family is broken” She smiled. “We might be wealthy, but our family relationships and dinamics are toxic. Everyone was too engulfed in their self's interests, traveling and shopping.” Y/N shrugged as she took her last bite. “I'm thankful for all the opportunities my parents’ hard work have provided me, but I miss the simple things—like coming home to my mother, seeing my dad arrive from work every day, and having dinner as a family.”

“You’re right. We all have different types of problems,” Sarah said, nodding as they looked at the horizon and enjoyed each other’s company, the cold fresh air, and the silence. It was one of those autumn afternoons when the sun shone brightly enough to feel it burn against your skin, but it was windy and cool.

“Hey,” they heard the door from the backyard slide open, and Harry walked out with sleepy eyes, messy hair, and a confused expression across his face. “How long have you two been up?” he asked with a rough, groggy voice as he made his way outside.

“Just a few minutes,” Sarah answered as she leaned back in her chair and waved at him. He walked up to Y/N, leaned down, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the side of her head. It was innocent and soft but sweet.

“Are you cold?” he whispered, running his hands over her bare forearms. She shook her head and unwrapped herself from him.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked as she stood up in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed his chin. “Morning,” she added. He smiled and shook his head before leaning down and kissing her. Sarah coughed, and they pulled away. Harry hid his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck while they giggled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin. Sarah was laughing softly and shaking her head.

“I get it now. She’s hot and has a brain,” Sarah shrugged, getting up from her seat. “I’m going to check on the others,” she excused herself and headed inside, leaving the two of them alone.

“I thought you had left,” Harry said as he sat down on the seat Y/N had previously occupied. Y/N slowly sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck while holding her cup with the other. "I thought it had all been a dream".

“I was just hungry, and I needed some coffee. Would you like some?” she offered as she gently pulled on his hair.

“I'm not a big fan” Harry replied, and Y/N frowned and nodded. “I’m more of a tea guy. So, how is this going to work?” he asked while holding her by the waist. “I mean, us. How were we going to see each other?”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll see each other. I’ll make sure of it,” Y/N said, with a few ideas forming in her mind, though she wasn’t planning to share them yet. She wanted it to be a surprise. Harry only nodded and leaned in for another kiss, which Y/N gladly returned.

After a brief make-out session, they walked back inside where everyone was waiting for them.

“How did you guys sleep?” Y/N asked as she washed her plate and Sarah’s, placing them in the dishwasher.

“You’ve got really comfy beds,” Jeff smiled as he sat down on the last stool. “What are we doing now? I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Liam agreed, lifting his head from the counter. Y/N looked over at Harry, who was leaning against the counter and yawning.

“We could order in,” Sarah suggested as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

“We could watch a movie too,” Y/N agreed. “It’s time for lunch anyway.” They all nodded and started debating what to eat and from where. They finally settled on Taco Bell and made the order.

“I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower,” Y/N told them as they all made their way into the living room. “There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourselves,” she smiled before running up the stairs. She decided to take a quick shower, then blow-dried her hair. She settled on a burnt orange shirt, some mom jeans, and a belt. She decided to just moisturize her face and skip makeup before heading down.

Harry was sitting in the corner of the couch, curled up in a little ball. As soon as he noticed her, he sat up and reached out for her. She maneuvered her way through everyone and turned on the fireplace, noticing everyone cuddling up.

“Oh man, can this get any better?” Mitch said as he tucked his arms behind his head. Liam laughed, and so did Jeff.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mitch commented as he cuddled closer to Sarah.

Y/N sat beside Harry and leaned over to pull the blankets out of a basket. She tossed one to Sarah and Liam so everyone could share. She took one for herself and Harry and spread it over their bodies.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling her closer to him. Y/N smiled and pecked his lips before turning her attention back to the TV.

They were halfway through the movie when the food arrived. The boys ate, and then they decided it was finally time for everyone to go home since they all had classes the next day. Y/N insisted on taking Harry home, which he eventually agreed to after much convincing.

“What are you doing after class tomorrow?” she asked as she drove across town, holding his hand tightly, resting them on her lap.

“Nothing much. I thought I might just catch up on homework and study,” he replied. Y/N hummed back, realizing she was going back to an empty apartment. It had been nice having everyone over.

“Do you have practice?” he asked, dragging her out of her deep thoughts.

“I do. We have another game on Wednesday. It’s going to be a tough one,” Y/N said, still remembering Coach Mary’s pep talk on Friday. She had yelled at them for the entire three-hour practice.

“I’m sure you guys will do great,” Harry commented as he looked through his phone. Y/N agreed as she finally pulled up to his street. She stopped the car right in front of his door, as usual. He unbuckled himself and leaned over the console.

“I don’t want you to go,” Harry said, causing Y/N to smile as butterflies filled her stomach. She suddenly felt like she was in fourth grade.

“Me neither,” Y/N whispered as she brushed her lips against his. He smiled one last time before kissing her. They kissed for a few minutes until she finally pulled away.

“Go,” she pecked his lips once more before he opened the door and got out.

Y/N sat in the car for a few minutes until she saw him enter the dorm. But just before she could start the car again, Harry ran out.

“My parents are here. They came to visit,” he exhaled loudly. “My mom wanted me to ask if you’d like to have coffee and dessert with us,” he stuttered, fiddling with his hands and looking incredibly nervous about what she might say. “I—I know it’s very soon, but they would like to meet you,” he added. “You don’t have to, though.”

“Can I park here?” she asked, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous about meeting his parents. They had only spent time together a few times, but she was willing to meet them.

“Yes,” he exhaled, relieved that she had agreed. Y/N turned off the car and got out, thankful that she had dressed appropriately.

108 notes · View notes

iwritefandomimagines · 2 years ago

Text

COFFEE AND KISSES — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

pairing: jamie tartt x reader

description: lately you’ve become a fixture in jamie’s home, and he’s not sure he ever wants to experience another day without a breakfast of coffee and kisses from you again.

warnings: pure, tooth-rotting domestic fluffiness (because jamie deserves it)

author’s note: this was based on a few requests i got for some domestic cuteness for jamie n i got so excited about it. thank u for the requests, i hope you enjoy this fluffy bit’a love.

“Baby, you don’t have to get up with me, you can sleep in,” you smiled, watching your boyfriend rub the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed, “It’s early — you don’t need to be up for hours yet.”

He shook his head, thumb pulling up the waistband of his boxers as he shuffled to the edge of the mattress and moved to stand up.

“Nah, it’s cool,” he shrugged, “More time with you init, and I’ve got training later. Roy will be less on my arse about things if I get some training in earlier too.”

You chuckled, knowing that that was absolutely not the case but appreciating his optimism.

You loved mornings like this, where you awoke together and spent even a little time preparing for the day with kisses punctuating every sentence and lingering touches showing you didn’t want to part at any point.

Domesticity like this was something you knew Jamie had previously lacked in his life, and you felt incredibly grateful to be able to be the one sharing it with him.

“I’ll go and get some coffee started, yeah?” you’d just shimmied into your dress, so smoothed down the wrinkles in your outfit as you leaned on the doorframe to Jamie’s bedroom.

He padded towards you quickly, hooking his hand around your waist and pulling you up from your leaned stance to kiss him, “Nuh uh, I’ll make it so you don’t have to come back up to get ready.”

You smiled softly, hands running over his bare shoulders and hooking around his neck as you kissed him again with a hummed, “Thank you, baby.”

He shrugged, lifting your hands from his shoulders and kissing your knuckles before he spun to leave the room, “‘Welcome princess.”

When you made your way downstairs a short while later, you found Jamie singing to himself in the kitchen, pouring beans onto two plates of toast, entirely unaware of your presence.

You coughed, startling him upright, and he scoffed at you before composing himself enough to smile at the sight of you.

“Ya scared the shit out of me, babe,” he blushed crimson, placing down the pan now empty of baked beans and placing cutlery on each plate, “Made you breakfast so you don’t have to buy any. Just beans on toast though. You look fucking stunning.”

You grinned as you moved to stand beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder as he eyed the food he’d made, “I hope it’s alright.”

“It’s perfect, Jaym,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, “Thank you. I’ve got about half an hour before I need to leave.”

He grinned at you, moving the two plates so that they sat in front of either breakfast bar seat, and so you both sat down to eat, “Before me masterpiece gets cold!”

You began eating with a smile, enjoying the blissful situation you found yourself in.

Jamie hadn’t been what you expected when you first met.

You’d spent a drunken night together a year ago that, given his reputation, you expected to be a one-time-thing.

He hadn’t quite expected to fall so head over heels for you either — but he was glad that he had. You’d clicked so quickly, and he was sure he’d never get tired of your company.

Waking up to you had become the highlight of his days, and he never wanted that to end.

“I wish you didn’t have to go to work,” he pouted over at you as he just finished clearing his plate of food, “I’ll miss ya.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten, and all you wanted to do was cover him in kisses and whisper sweet nothings to remind him how much he meant to you.

“I know, babe,” you frowned back at him, pushing your plate away and shuffling your stool closer to his, “I’ll come back here tonight when I finish if you want?”

He nodded, “Please. You might as well move in at this point.”

He chuckled, but you could tell there was a little sincerity in his voice. You held eye contact for a few seconds, with a soft smile.

“I’d like that.”

“You being serious?”

You shrugged, “If you are. We’ve been together ages now, I spend most of my time here anyway, I literally have a key and… Well, I just like being around you.”

He hopped down from his seat, moving to stand behind you and curling his hands around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Then do it. Bed’s not the same without you in it anyway. Basically our bed at this point so may as well make it official,” he grinned into your neck, peppering it with kisses, “Plus I just want you here.”

“Hey, hey,” you couldn’t help but jump at the way his light kisses tickled your neck, “I’ll move in! But for now I gotta go. I’ll get in touch with a moving company or something. No rush or anything,” you blushed crimson, suddenly worried he didn’t mean any time soon, “But we can sort it when you’re ready.”

“Babe, I’d move your shit in by myself if it meant you moved in today,” he said seriously, “We’ll sort it as soon as, yeah? Don’t stress. I want ya here for good.”

You hummed a delighted response, turning your head to kiss him before rising to your feet and taking a final swig of the coffee that he’d made you.

“Mmm, I still don’t want you to go,” his hands looped around your waist to pull you close, your noses touching as he stared into your eyes, “Want you all to me self.”

You giggled, “I’m all yours, Tartt. It’s just a couple hours.”

He kissed you immediately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip as you parted your lips for him. You leaned into him, hands on his chest as you melted into his kiss.

“Baby, I’m gonna be late,” you pulled back after a moment, acutely aware all of a sudden that you really needed to get a move on.

“Fine, fine,” he huffed, pouting again and releasing you from his grip, “I’ll see you later princess. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jamie.”

You kissed his nose quickly before turning to grab your work bag and slipping on your shoes as he made his way into the lounge to sit down.

“See you later baby!” you called as you opened the front door, and his head popped round the corner almost immediately.

“See ya later love,” he replied, before smirking, “Don’t be surprised if your stuff’s all here when you get back.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh trust me, I wouldn’t.”

———

thank u for reading! i hope this was okay, i looove writing jamie fluff atm he deserves the whole world <3 let me know what you think!!

if you want to make more requests please feel free, or in the meantime here is my masterlist!

#jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso imagines #domestic jamie tartt #jamie tartt fluff #established relationship

1K notes · View notes

perpetuallydaydreaming · 2 years ago

Text

aren’t promises meant to be broken?

at 17 sirius promised to always be there for you whenever you need him. now 3 years after your break up, sirius has yet to break this promise.

tags: sirius black x f!reader,, magical nuisances,, exes to friends to lovers,, hurt and comfort,, fluff,, angst,, slytherins + pandora,, no voldy

a/n: took me an embarrassing amount of time to finish but i’m kinda soft for this fic ngl

people never stay friends with their exes. even with the promises of being one when breaking up. most find it, understandably, too awkward to continue any sort of relationship with them.

you would have been one of those people, at least you think so. but certain circumstances have deemed this preference a futile thought.

“i can’t believe you got me here to clean your bathroom.” sirius glared, peeling off the rubber gloves off his hands and slumping down on the breakfast nook.

“someone had to do it.” you shrugged, “it wouldn’t be the first time,” you smiled, vanishing the gloves and cleaning the table too. before placing a plate in front of him filled with sausages, toast and beans.

“that’s the fucked up part! it isn’t even my first time doing this.” he groans, grabbing a fork that you immediately slapped away.

“wash your hands first, you animal.”

he whines a protest but gets up anyway, rubbing his slapped hands as he does so—pouting because he’s dramatic like that.

“aren’t you going to eat with me?” he asks, his back turned to you as he washes his hands.

you were almost going to say yes, out of habit, having done so numerous times before. but remembered belatedly, the date set up by regulus with one of his work colleagues. a proper fit to you, he said. “no, i’m meeting somebody for dinner later.”

he closes the tap, turning to you again. “dinner? with who?”

you clicked your tongue at the dripping mess he’s making on the floor. grabbing paper towels and tossing it to him to wipe it himself. “some bloke from regulus’ work.”

“regulus? another date then?”

you nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the idea of talking about dates your ex’s brother set you up with.

he frowned. going back to the table and grabbing the fork to start eating the warm food. “i see,”

and that was, thankfully, the end of that.

you didn’t really want to delve into your dating life with anyone, much less your ex-boyfriend of all people—no matter how many times he cleans your bathroom. it was already morbidly pathetic, how your friends seem to think you needed help finding someone new and to move on with.

but in your defence, it is rather difficult finding someone who would be okay with your, er, arrangement with your ex.

it is all sirius’ fault, really, but what isn’t? accidentally making a magically-binding promise to you, seems just like the type of thing he would do. and he has.

ever since he made that promise at 17 when you’ve just started dating, sirius has been showing up in your life, ready to help you with anything you need. you thought of this is in a more figurative sense, but no. that was too simple.

instead, whenever you need something. maybe something as simple as scratching your back, to partaking in a monthly bathroom cleaning, sirius would just appear out of thin air into your house, or wherever you need him, and he would be required to do it else he wouldn’t be able to leave.

when you were dating, this was something you both enjoyed, sometimes even looked forward to. using it as an excuse to latch unto each other the whole day. but now, having been spilt for how many years now (3 but who’s counting?) you can imagine how this magic promise has become a nuisance in your everyday life.

you tried resisting it, of course. though the power of will and mental fortitude can only do so much when you can’t reach the top shelves of your kitchen. forget about avoiding your ex, when he can just pop in whenever, wherever, when you get so much as a paper cut. you can see how the novelty of the situation can run its course. so much so, you sort of just learn how to deal with it instead of fighting it.

you’ve learned to use this to your advantage, of course, making him do chores around the house, makes him a great house elf without the moral issues of owning one.

he was also quite reluctant, when you both broke up, but that was to be expected. he had tried moving away to france, thinking the distance might prevent him from showing up. but that only made it difficult to explain to the travel officers how he can exit the country without violating travel wizarding laws.

regardless of the reluctant acceptance of such peculiar arrangement, you still have that hope you can somehow reverse it.

this particular hope always trampled by your friends’ insistence to utilize your situation to your extreme satisfaction.

“i don’t understand why you would want to remove it, to be honest.” dorcas frowned flipping through the pages of magical vows and contracts, vol.2. “i mean if i had someone doing things for me all day long, i certainly wouldn’t complain.”

“are you joking? why would anyone want to stay bound to their ex?”

she looked over to you, tone playfully mocking, but mocking regardless. “you mean an ex who does everything you need him to?”

“well, how would you feel if lily was always around you doing stuff for you?”

“oh please, if lily was bound to me, cleaning my bathroom wouldn’t be the only thing she would be doing.”

you grimace, “spare me the details, i beg of you.”

“so you wouldn’t like it if you and sirius partook… in certain late night activities?” she hummed.

you sputter out scandalized gasps, face feeling gruesomely warm, “don’t be disgusting! i have no intentions of ever doing anything with him and i assume he share the sentiments, a-and it is appalling that you think so—!” you breathed in deep, willing your face to relax and to settle your wild heart. “i don’t need him to be anything other than a reluctant acquaintance.”

pandora laughs from the floor, “not even considering him as a friend? poor sirius.”

you huff, embarrassed and frankly a bit betrayed.

you friends have convinced themselves of sirius’ intentions to be more than what is required of him. pushing you of all people to act upon seducing him using your gods given womanly assets, as pandora had once labelled.

you abruptly stood up from the table, going over to the stove to reheat the water to make more tea. “besides, i am perfectly capable of handling things by myself, thank you very much.”

it’s dorcas who laughs this time, “what do you mean? just last week, he had to bandage your finger for you because you bit your cuticle to blood. you are entirely dependent on him at this point.”

you huff, “i am not. i am a woman capable of attending to my own needs. that was the bind’s requirements of it all, i have to let him do these things or the bond won’t ever let him leave, you know this already.” you groan, rolling your eyes. “my point still stands. i don’t need him, nor will i ever need him. i just want all of this out of my life and in the past, like it should have been.”

“doesn’t he have his own room in this house by now?”

“it’s not his room, it’s a guest room— that he frequently uses. there’s a difference.”

it was pandora munching on peanuts, wholly amused that responded next, “right,” she drawled, “and that’s why he has his clothes folded and tucked away in the closet.”

“oh piss off, the nuisance sometimes happens in the middle of the night. how could i let him go home so late? what kind of host would i be?”

“couldn’t he just go home straight after?” dorcas asks.

“is it a nuisance, still?” pandora asks.

you cross your arms, petulant, “he can, but he chooses not to. and yes, still.” you scoff, “i know you think something filthy is happening but i particularly don’t enjoy his impromptu trespasses, believe me.”

“i don’t know, you two seem to be getting along quite well.”

“me and that useless oaf? are you joking?”

pandora smiled sweetly, “hardly useless now, i hear.”

“and what did you hear?”

“takes care of you quite well, what with dinner invites with the potters and even travelling?”

you turned around, fiddling with the tea cups, hoping to hide your darkening flush. but you know it did nothing, judging by their giggles.

“travelling?” dorcas inquired, interest piqued.

you don’t see her but you can sense her teasing smile.

you have yet to share that tidbit of embarrassing info to her. mainly because you don’t know how to squeeze it in and you don’t know how to even begin.

you did go to the potters for one random dinner. the invite came after sirius had come and helped you arrange your home library. it was just a simple dinner. filled with other people, hardly anything scandalous.

the travelling together was accidental. you were off to travel with bloke #4, as graciously dubbed by sirius (someone regulus had set you up with at the time) off to a romantic getaway for the weekend to a hot spring up the mountains. only to get thirsty halfway through your trip and have sirius show up in your train compartment only in his boxers and fluffy bunny slippers.

there were no other stops in the train. anti apparition wards set up and the floo connection was severed in the hotel to promote exclusivity, sirius had to join in on the activities through his relentless insistence. he had ate and laughed obnoxiously loud - sitting dangerously close to you the entire trip. he had constantly went on a tangent, reminiscing about your past relationship ranging from random dates to the make out spots you’ve frequented together in hogwarts. safe to say that was the last time you’ve heard from bloke #4.

but you could hardly think to be upset about that. you quite… enjoyed yourself.

but you’ll be damned before you admit that to these two vultures.

taking a deep breath, “there was no dinner invites nor travelling. it was—“

“magical nuisance, yes, yes.” pandora waves off.

you roll your eyes again, grabbing the hot kettle to steep the tea. “stop trying to make things—ah! fuck, ow.” you hiss, holding your painfully warm, stinging fingers. you see the tiny boils already appearing on your skin, the piercing pain shooting through your fingers. you squeezed your hand, hoping to elevate some of the pain.

sirius made a quick move to grab your wrists to pull you to the sink. you didn’t even hear him arrive.

“what happened?” he asks, silver eyes looking at you in intense worry. softly holding your hand under the cold running water gliding down your hand. he was standing so close to you you could smell a tiny hint of his soap. you slowly start to relax.

that is before you catch dorcas’ glinting gaze and pandora’s knowing smile. both of which you vehemently ignore, as you stare at your red fingers and his much larger hand on yours.

“i burned my fingers on the kettle.”

“goodness love, you have to be more careful.”

“sorry.” you mumbled, but having no idea why you would even apologize in the first place. still, you feel the heat of your hand spread to your body.

dorcas, having stood up to help you sat back down again, “hello, sirius. right on time as always.” she called, a cetain lilt in her voice you nervously recognized.

“sirius black, what a coincidence.” pandora sing songs, no subtlety whatsoever.

oh, they are just the worst.

he regarded them both in an overly familiar smile (an ex shouldn’t give to his ex’s friends) and in a light teasing tone as he says “good evening, ladies. why do i get the feeling like you’ve been gossiping about me?”

“you might have been mentioned once or twice.” pandora shrugged.

sirius softly laughs, the sound barely heard over the sink, before he stares at your fingers again, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin. before looking at you with a teasing smirk to which you only roll your eyes at.

you see shuffling in your peripheral, meeting your friend’s eyes, you see them gesture to you and sirius. trying to wordlessly communicate to you with wide smiles. you imagine something akin to, see? what did we tell you? not useless right? nuisance my ass. look at you guys holding hands under the water.

as if just realizing it now, you pull your hand away from his grip in an embarrassed haste, as he slowly lets go with a small frown etched on his face.

drying his hands on the towel, as he leans down to unnecessarily whisper to you. “i’m going to get a burn salve, i’ll be quick.”

“it’s in the—“

“bathroom, yes, angel, i know. just wait for me.” he drawled, giving you a wry smile.

you stare at his retreating figure. you almost want to laugh at his serious reaction to a simple burn from a kettle. hardly calls for any salve. but you kept the comments in, for whatever reason. a fluffy, dangerous feeling erupting in your chest.

you hear dorcas whistle to get your attention, a smirk on her face, “angel?”

when the promise first happened, it was during graduation from hogwarts. absolutely gutted by the fact that your parents didn’t show. they’ve been vocal about their disappointment that you weren’t able to finish at the top of your class. but you had hoped they would still show. you were, after all, still their kid.

but there was noticeably empty seats in an area reserved for your family. so, naturally as any teenager, the next best thing you could do in the situation is cry alone in a bathroom.

though the lack of company didn’t last too long, because then your boyfriend appeared, looking to be in a middle of taking pictures if his big and goofy face is anything to go by.

he heard you, before he saw you. hearing your soft sniffles and the tiny hiccups from your mouth. at the time, you both didn’t question what had happen. why he was inside the girl’s bathroom, why is there a strange pull to follow your every whims. but he was suddenly there to comfort you, and make you smile again—who were you deny his services?

you both only managed to understand what was happening by the third time it happened. sirius suddenly appearing by your bedside, wet and covered in suds. he was in the middle of showering and you promptly freaked out, seeing large bits you weren’t ready to see yet.

but understanding why it was happening didn’t mean both of you would be prepared anytime it actually happened.

the bind didn’t pick and choose when, where, and why he would appear. there was an embarrassing moment when he showed up in the bathroom when you’ve ran out of tissue paper. also at your house during dinner when you needed salt, to which your parents justifiably freaked out at the sight of a boy, claiming to be your boyfriend.

this hasn’t changed years later.

now as you lie in your bed, feeling the scratchy feeling in your throat. you knew by the tingles in your arms. the thrumming static of your magic within you— letting you know of his arrival before you could even sit up.

there he was, your ex-boyfriend, like the days before. it was terribly late, and he was struggling to even stand straight as he yawns in the middle of your room, wearing a set of well-loved teddy bear pajamas.

“somethin’ wrong baby?” his voice deep, hoarse and low. something exciting spiking through your veins, making you more awake.

you knew, if he was more alert he wouldn’t have called you that.

you try not to think why you feel miffed by that fact.

“jus’ some water please.” you call softly from your bed.

he yawns again, rubbing his flat belly, “okay.” he breathes, walking in the darkness of your room with practiced ease.

you hear the small sounds of clanks in the kitchen, and the fridge being pulled open.

he knew you liked you water cold. he knew where your drinking glasses were. he knew where you keep the salves. he knew your apartment in the dark.

in the beginning, especially after your relationship ended, you associated this binding promise as an act of forceful requirement. at best, you see it as a favour you give to a stranger. but lately, especially in the quiet of your house, the pet names that keeps slipping out of his mouth as of late—you start to dangerously think of this as something else. as something more. as something painfully familiar.

he comes back quiet, siting on the bed near your thighs, as he hands you the cool, moist glass. his hair was tousled more than usual. there were sleeping marks on his face. he was probably already asleep before you needed him here.

you feel a little bit guilty, but you see his flushed cheeks through the soft glow of the moon outside your window, and the hooded gaze he desperately tries to keep open. you fight back a smile instead.

“is that all, baby?” his hand softly smoothing your hair at the back of your head. your room felt ridiculously warm.

“thank you.” you murmured before setting the glass on the bedside table.

he gives you one last sleepy smile, eyes closed and his hair toppling over his eyes. “okay, if that’s all—“

“are you going back?” you cut in, holding his wrist, your finger on his pulse. keeping him seated before he could even stand. before his warmth leaves your bed.

“i don’t have to..” he offers. like always, giving you the choice to draw the line.

you hesitate before you answer, letting go of his wrist, “it’s late..” and that’s all you say, and apparently that’s all he needs.

“is it alright then, if i stay the night? then i can leave in the morning?” he whispers back. his warm hand, touching your thigh over the covers. he felt so far away.

you don’t do this, not usually. but in the dark space of your room you feel more confident. more assured. braver.

you move slightly to the side, giving him space, “if you want.” conveniently forgetting the existence of the spare room. choosing to blame it on the lack of sleep.

he smiles, moving the covers. the short moment of exposure making you shiver in the cold. he notices, quickly sliding into bed with you. arms stiffly on his sides and yours crossed across your chest.

still not brave enough.

you feel him shuffle, laying on his side and facing you. his fingers just barely grazing your sides in a soft touch.

you fell asleep faster than any other night, hearing him breath near your ear.

you dream of a teary conversation from a time not so long ago, of desperate pleas not to leave you. and when you feel his arm curl around your waist. you dreaming of nothing for the rest of night.

the next morning, you woke up later than you would have, and see the too empty space next to you. the pang in your chest, grossly familiar.

it had been a month since the night he’s stayed with you. not a breath has been acknowledged about that night. choosing to ignore the lingering tension, the long stares and the awkward dispositions.

you don’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated.

of course, your friends had noticed this - because hadn’t they been analyzing each of your move when it comes to sirius black?

dorcas eventually had to force it out of you. to which pandora squealed and teased you in delight. insistent of the blooming change in your relationship.

“blooming change?” you repeated.

“what? it’s poetic!” she argues.

“it’s dumb,” regulus calls out. “y/n isn’t the kind to return to an ex, especially not to my dumb brother, right y/n?” he looks so earnestly confident. so much so that you couldn’t even lie to agree with him. truth be told, you have no idea if you were even the type to go back, regardless if it was reggie’s dumb brother or not.

because sirius has been your first boyfriend and if this bind continues on, he might be your last. you don’t know if that’s a good thing, all things considered.

everyone has turned to you now, in varying degrees of smugness, amusement, pride and playful pity.

dorcas laughs, saving you from answering. “i don’t know reggie, seems like y/n’s getting a little swayed.”

reggie reacts for you, as if offended. “she is not! she is actively going on dates and meeting new people.”

“oh?” dorcas smirked.

barty, sitting up straighter, “doesn’t he have a room here or something?”

you say, “no,“ “yes.” pandora quips, at the same time.

you rolled your eyes, “it’s a guest room—“

“one that conveniently went unused in one random night.” evan hummed, smirking, as he blew his smoke out the window.

pandora and dorcas ooh’ed.

“it was late! he was practically dragging himself from the floor, i couldn’t let him hurt himself after i interrupted his sleep, a-and he was already there, it’d be rude not to—i don’t even know why i’m explaining myself to you!— i don’t have to explain myself, because i did nothing wrong.” your met with four amused looks and one gut wrenchingly, disappointed one.

dorcas clicked her tongue, “i don’t know why you’re even fighting it at this point.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“i mean, you clearly want to be with him still.”

you sputter, sitting straighter, indignant as you say, “what gave you that idea?”

“the longing gaze.”

“acting all shy.” barty adds.

“the late night rendezvous,” evan hums.

“giving him his own room.” pandora pointedly looked at you.

“the inability to pursue any other relationship after him.” regulus tutted.

you gasp, betrayed. “even you reggie?”

regulus rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and legs, “i am running out of eligible acquaintances to set you up with, you know.”

you don’t even know how to respond to that.

frankly you can’t. because you know they were right, and dammit if that didn’t hurt your pride just a little.

still, ridiculously hung up on an ex that didn’t even love you. a joke, really.

but you relish in the idea of sirius being near you. it sends a certain tingle down your spine just knowing he’ll arrive anytime, and be there for you. you like how he always stands so close to you even if he doesn’t have to. you like how you don’t have to tell him what he has to do before he does it. you like the pet names naturally slipping past his pretty mouth. how he’s always touching you in some way. how familiar it feels. the habits, the conversations, the feelings—how easy it all seems.

but it isn’t. you know it isn’t.

because you’ve tried and failed.

you fell for him, loved him the way you know how. leaving nothing for yourself as you give everything for him. loving him with no expectations for him to do the same. and so, he doesn’t.

he couldn’t love you back. at least not in the way you entirely feel for him.

he couldn’t look past his life and the experiences he’d endured just to reach that moment in the past. it wrecked you. you didn’t expect anything, but it still hurt when you got nothing for everything you had.

you don’t like the reminder, but you know you need it. you know how destroying it is to forget. you’ve tried being with him already and it didn’t work. you say this to them, whispered, as if ashamed.

you don’t even feel the tears sliding down your check as you say this.

dorcas’ smile dropped and pandora immediately sat down beside you.

“hey, you know it won’t be like that again.” pandora rubbing your shoulders.

“do i?” you rasped. “what’s so different about now than before? what’s to stop us from breaking up again?”

“it’s going to be different because you are different, and so is he.” dorcas said. “you were just teenagers, you barely knew yourselves back then. you weren’t ready for each other yet. he had issues to work out, and you had to grow up a little to understand that.”

you sniffled, “and you think we’re ready.”

“yes,” they all said.

dorcas reaching over and squeezing your hand, “i know you’re both ready.”

you shake your head, you don’t know if that’s true, “our forced proximity lasted longer than our actually relationship. and it’s only lasted this long because it’s just that—forced.”

pandora shook her head, dangling earrings clinking together. “that’s not true. it’s lasted this long because you wanted it to. you both wanted it to.”

evan nodded, smothering his cigarette butt and throwing it outside, “i, personally, wouldn’t want to spend any second with any of my exes, but you both didn’t even try finding any sort of solution to break the promise.”

barty gives you an awkward smile, as evan continues “if you had wanted to call it quits you would’ve found a way to end all of this the moment he had broken up with you. but you didn’t—“

“that’s because i couldn’t—“

“don’t lie,” regulus cut in, pouting, looking a bit like a petulant child. “we all know you could have found something in this ridiculously large library of yours.”

“why are you suddenly advocating for sirius and i to get back together again?”

regulus clicked his tongue, looking away. a slight flush on his cheeks. “i’m not advocating anything.” he huffs. “he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you. but if it’s sirius that ultimately makes you happy. then so be it.”

you swallow a lump, breathing a staggering breath, “i don’t know if he even—“

“he does.” regulus looking at you, eyes clear and sure. “he wouldn’t be so cross with me for setting you up with dates if he doesn’t.”

that same night, sirius, for once, was not summoned by you but of a call from regulus.

he already feels the natural flare of irritation, bracing himself for another round of teasing hums and provoking stories about how you’re on a date in an exclusive restaurant, with a bloke who’s ready to give you everything you need.

standing up from james’ couch, going to the kitchen to block the noise from the muggle telley, as remus called it. then accepting the call,

“i swear if you’re calling just to gloat about another conquest you’ve put her through then—“

“she needs you.” regulus slurred.

feeling an immediate spike in his heartbeat. already grabbing his jacket and hurrying to the front door to leave.

“we’re in a pub, bring your motorbike or something, she can’t apparate right now, too drunk.”

“i’ll be there in 10.” grabbing remus’ keys off a bowl in the entrance.

“oi, where the hell are you taking my car?” remus shrieked from the couch.

without looking back, “she needs me.”

peter whines from the living room, “but the game-!”

and he only slams the door close as a response.

“we’re in the east village, near a fountain.” regulus sluggishly explained before hanging up.

sirius wasn’t the best driver. in hindsight, he probably should have asked remus to drive him to you. but this was about you. he could hardly think about anything else when it comes to you. he would do anything for you, binding promise or not.

he found it particularly odd and extremely worrying, why you’re drinking on a thursday night. he knew you couldn’t handle your alcohol well, always ending up drinking too much and passing out.

considering regulus had to call him to come get you didn’t help his nerves as he drove faster than the limit allowed.

when he arrived expecting the worse, he found himself smiling at the sight of you.

you were laying your head on regulus lap as you both sat on the bench. he can hear barty and pandora trying to lift each other. dorcas and evan cheering them on.

but all he can see is you laying there. eyes closed and cheeks darkly flushed, dress splaying over your thighs. regulus smoothing your hair, lulling you to sleep. when he met his brother’s eyes. the younger black rolled his eyes and beckoned him over.

“took you long enough.” regulus grumbled, now sounding sober than when he called.

“is she okay?” sirius asks, crouching down and staring at your sleeping face for any signs of discomfort or pain.

regulus sighs, “just got a bit carried away, this one. she was… upset tonight so we let her have her fun an—“

“upset?” sirius cuts, couldn’t help the finger tracing your cheek and jaw. your nose twitching at his action. “why was she upset?”

regulus waves his hand, making vague gestures but offering no explanation. sirius frowns.

“i can take her home,” standing up, now as he calls out to the others. “does anybody else need a ride?”

all four heads, shook their heads and offered varying words of thanks. “you reggie?”

“don’t bother, i’m perfectly capable.” he tuts. “be careful of that metal beast.”

with slow movements, sirius slides his arms under your neck and the back of your thighs. making sure your dress stay tucked and you comfortably napping before lifting you up.

once lifted, your head turns to the crevice of his neck, burying your nose and breathing in deep. wrapping your own arms around his neck with practiced ease and familiarity.

his heart thrumming and slowing all the same. he likes you like this, so close to him and looking so content as you do now.

nodding his goodbyes to the others, as he walks to the car again. opening the car door proved to be a challenge what with an armful of you. but he managed to do so without jostling you too much. he didn’t want to wake you, but such actions proved to be futile as the moment you were placed in the passenger seat, you froze awake.

he tries to appease you with a gentle smile, brushing your hair behind your ear. “hi love, i’m getting you home today, is that alright?”

“siri?” you rasp, looking at him like he wasn’t real. his chest pounding as he sees your eyes glossing and shining with unshed tears. he immediately crouch down in front of you, grabbing of your hands, and peppering soft kisses on your knuckles.

“what is it, my love, why are you crying?”

“you’re here?”

he nodded, kissing your knuckles again. “i’m here.”

you said nothing, just staring at him. looking so lost and tearful. he feels a little guilty thinking you to be heart-clenchingly adorable, right now. looking so soft and precious, the urge to stay the night in the parking lot and just stare at you was strong but he knows he has to take you home, else you get sick.

he thought you were to say nothing else. so, he stood to close the door and head to the driver’s seat but you whined. tugging at his hand still in your clasp and pull him to you. tucking his head into your neck and burying your hand in his hair.

this is entering dangerous territories now, he thinks. one he very much like to continue venturing but he knows you weren’t sound of mind right now. so he refrains from touching you anymore than he has. his hands desperately clutching to the cold, hard car, substituting for your soft, pretty skin.

you whine, “don’t go.”

“‘m not going anywhere, baby. i’m just going to the seat next to you.” he mumbled, his lips agonizingly grazing your skin, he ignores the way your body shivers and the filthy thoughts that come with it. his hands gripping the car tighter.

“next to me?”

“yes, next to you.”

you eventually let him go, but not without constant coaxing.

he drives, slow and steady. avoiding potholes and uneven roads. you fell asleep again, from the slow, quiet drive and the soft, mellow music coming from the radio.

then sooner than he had liked, he parks in front of your house. he kills the engine and he whispers his calls to you. not sure whether he wants you awake to be feeling okay enough to walk or asleep so he can touch you again.

he moves when you stay quiet, doing everything he can to keep you from waking up. letting out a soft hiss each time a creak or a thump echoes in your quiet house.

when he finally, finally reaches your bedroom and lays you there, he’s quick to take off your shoes. then the realization of his next move taunts him. although, you looked very pretty with your dress, he doesn’t know if he should change your clothes into something more comfortable for you.

he knew an intense hungover when he sees one. getting up to change clothes isn’t pleasant with a raging headache. he stares at your laying figure. the thin strap of your dress slipped down, and your legs looking longer than he remembers.

he looks away before he sees anymore. it didn’t feel right, looking at you that way. especially whilst unconscious.

he open your dresser, knowing the drawer you keep your pajamas.

he sees a familiar, more faded than he remembers, shirt he always wore. the thought of you wearing his clothes makes him too happy and giddy for an adult man.

he fights his heart from beating too loudly. afraid you’ll hear. bites his lips to stop his giddy grin, and forces his eyes to focus on his search. but eventually did land on his old shirt and some long bottoms so you’d be warm.

he slid the bottoms first. careful not to touch your skin but very much feeling the heat of your thigh. he held his breath as he reached the curve of your bum. stopping and not knowing what to do next. with one arm he lifts you slightly off the bed. and with his eyes clenched tight, fast and frantic hands—holding his breath as he went to pull it up.

next was his your shirt. he had you sit up, head laying heavy on his shoulders. softly pulling back from you to slip the shirt over your head before letting you lean into him again. guiding your arms and pulling the soft tee down.

with a bated breath, he feels for the zipper at the back of your dress.

fingers touching and sliding over your back. the touch leaving a lingering static in his fingers. when he clutched the thin tiny thing, he slide it down. slowly, careful not to pinch your skin.

he hears you sigh from relief, letting himself smile, knowing he did a good job.

he lets you lay back down, properly this time, slip off your dress, cleans your face with a warm wet face towel.

he knows he should go. he knows to let you get your rest and sleep. knows he should return remus’ car. knows the lads are probably waiting for him. but there is no urge to leave. instead he stares at your clean bare face, the soft lines and pretty marks on your face just adds more to your allure.

he didn’t know how long he stared at you. it could’ve been a minute to a full hour, too busy studying your face, seeing all the new marks and the familiar ones, committing them to memory.

he was about to leave, lest he bothers you and wake you up. but you stirred.

stretching as you did so. and blearily stared at him. expectant and quiet.

your voice hoarse but genuine all the same. “it’s late..” he knew what you mean. the unspoken invitation, just like last time.

and he wants to—god he wants to.

“i can’t baby,” you were drunk, he wasn’t. it wouldn’t be fair.

“you’re leaving again?”

that did him in, slumping down on the bed. rubbing your outer thigh through your covers. “i’ll stay then, just rest.”

“but you’ll just leave me like last time.” you mumbled.

he gives you a lopsided smile, apologetic and painfully endeared all the same, “i had to, my love, i had work.”

“no,” you breathed, softly shaking your head, letting out a staggering breath like you were going to cry. “i meant the first time.” you whispered.

it was shameful the way he slowly realized what you had meant. you didn’t sound angry or bitter. or even resentful even if you had all the rights to.

he didn’t respond. letting your words stew in his mind. the quiet in the entire house emphasized by the ringing in his ears. he didn’t know what to say.

what words you were waiting for him to say. what words he can say to make it all better.

he didn’t even know you still think about that. still thinking about your relationship, and what had happened, and why it ended the way it did.

still thinking about it like him, who sometimes find it difficult to sleep thinking about you and the pain he caused you. the regret heavy in his veins like lead.

he should apologize, probably beg or grovel about the way it ended.

he was about to.

but he hears your soft breathing again. the stillness in your body, only sleep can make that he realizes he’s lost his chance.

again.

he rubbed your thighs, still. hoping to lull you into a deeper sleep. he grabbed a glass of cold water and put a statis charm so it would stay cool. he petted your hair, and caressed your cheek. it was painful, and he struggled. but he eventually left. feeling the same amount of fulfilled and disappointment altogether.

it was the next morning where sirius was beckoned again, this time not by a call from his baby brother but by the usual pull of your magic. he had expected as much, even fixed up his hair and wore fresh clean clothes and even put on perfume.

he did it whenever he could. in case you were to need him.

he even has a couple of hungover potion in his pocket just in case.

when he got summoned, popping into your familiar bedroom like the nights and mornings before. he was greeted with you still buried under the covers, eyebrows scrunched and eyes already open. you looked like you’ve been awake for some time now, but still refused to move.

you looked so tired and groggy and so soft and warm and homely and pretty.

someone with a hungover shouldn’t look as good as you did. but you are. he ignores the flutters in his stomach, tightening into a coil and puts on an easy smile.

“good morning dizzy girl.” he sing songs. plopping down on your bed, making sure to bounce you a little as he did.

you groan some more, turning away from him, holding your head.

he softly laughs. reaching over to smooth out your hair, “did you drink water?”

“hn.”

he took that as a no.

“up you go, c’mon. drink, you’ll feel better.” he grabs the glass. still filled full and cool like last night.

sliding his rough hands under your neck and the other to your back. slowly sitting you up so you can drink. you give little to no protest at all at his touch and considers this a win. his lips feeling a little wobbly as he fights a smile.

you took a small sip and then a larger gulp, sighing after finishing the whole glass.

“i also have a hangover potion and a headache one that lily made, so you know it’s good—“

“you left again.” you rasped, a small frown on your pretty face, still turned away from him.

he stops.

it suddenly dawns on him how you’ve yet to look at him, or greet him like you do when he always appears. he chalked it up to you being hungover or the highly probable headache you must have. not sulking, or possible moping over the fact that he hadn’t waited for you until morning.

he feels his heart take up larger room than normal in his chest. the loud thrumming under his veins as his magic comes to life, the burning desire of it all, the ringing in his ears, his pulse loud and the heat coming to his face.

you weren’t playing fair.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, scooting near you. reaching out to wrap his arms around your shoulders, then lightly tugging you to him, to lean on him like you did the night before. it was through his absolute delight that you let him.

giving him the courage to continue his ministrations.

“you said you’d stay.” you softly whined, voice muffled by his neck. your hands gripping his shirt.

so unfair.

he’s fully hugging you now. he tries to fight the sigh that threatens to come out of his mouth from having you in his arms again.

he hadn’t expected for you to remember last night, what with constantly falling asleep. he should’ve prepared for it though.

“i’m sorry.” he repeats. this more graver than the last. this apology carrying more weight and more reason, when he remembers your last question.

“you always leave.” he feels something wet touch his neck. his hearts clench, the image of your tears too clear for him. “always leaving me.”

he tries to lean back to get a good look on you but once you felt him move away, you tightened your grip. now wrapping your own arms around his waist. sirius doesn’t know how to feel. suddenly wrapped in your warmness and the familiar feeling and the guilt that you’re crying over him.

again.

causing you pain, again.

“i know, i’m sorry.” he hates that it’s all he can say. hates he can’t say anything else.

so you ask, “why?”

why?

he knows what you’re asking isn’t about why he’s sorry for leaving. he knows you’re asking something else. one withheld from you from the very beginning.

why do keep calling me nicknames?

why do keep touching me?

why do i feel this way?

why can’t you stay?

why did you leave?

why didn’t you love me back?

there’s a lot of answers he’s withheld from you but he starts from the one heavy on his mind.

he suddenly wonders if you’ve been left wondering too.

if it keeps you up at night, and having no one to answer it. if it eats you up and if you regret being with him, the same way he regrets ever leaving you.

“i didn’t think that— you would want me to stay, after what i did. i didn’t dare myself to even think you could still want me— or even be around my presence at all.” he says this quiet and so close to your ear.

you let him go now, leaning against the bed post instead.

sirius instantly wishing for you to come back into his arms again, but he refrains.

“you thought i didn’t want you?”

“who would?” he laughs, albeit a bit self-deprecating but hoping you’ll take it as a joke. you only frown. “sirius, of course i would still want you. you’re the best thing that happened to me.” your eyes looked so clear then, so sure.

so sure it burns him.

“but i hurt you. i caused you pain, i’ve disappointed you again and again—“

“you didn’t disappoint me.” you grab his hands, your touch still so soft like he remembers it. “i was hurt, yes, but that wasn’t your fault. it was my own fault for giving you more than what you were comfortable with.”

he shook his head, frowning hard. “don’t do that.”

“what?”

“be understanding,” he laughs, incredulous. “taking responsibility for me being a shitty boyfriend to you for being a complete arse to you.”

“you did what you could. what with everything you went through?”

he turns away, but you grab his face with your other hand, and tilts his chin up.

“all the things you’ve had to endure? i know you try to hide your struggles with it all. but i see you. i see all the things, all the extra steps you have to take to become better than what your parents set you out for. and now look at you, making it out on your own. making new friends, no trace of the anger and bitterness they tried so hard to embed in you. i loved you for it all, and i understood why you couldn’t, even if it hurt. because that’s how people love. you love someone even if they have all the capabilities to hurt you more than anything in the world— and i have loved you for so long. and i might’ve not understood this when we were younger, but i do now. i wasn’t asking for apologies because i’ve long forgiven you for everything in the past. but i wanted to know what it is you felt. why you felt the need to hide the reasons from me.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

you let his face go. but he grabs it. incasing your hand in his.

mind sticking to one thing he feared.

loved?

has he lost his chance again?

have you deemed him unnecessary?

“you don’t—?” he sighs, stopping himself, that wasn’t important right now. especially not if you were looking at him, looking so patient.

he started slow, contemplative if he can articulate it well enough for you to understand. “i didn’t think i could ever be capable of love, or be anyone you could ever want and need. because you’re amazing. when you said you loved me for the first time, i thought i was dooming you. my family. my circumstances. i thought i was going to ruin you and i couldn’t live with the thought of doing that to you. so i thought that leaving would be for the best. i tried to leave. tried and convinced myself it was for you. that i had to let you go for you. but i couldn’t do it. selfish as it is, i couldn’t let you go.

“i even found a way to stop the bind, but thinking that my last connection with you would be gone, and you would forget about me—have a life without me there, i couldn’t. because, because i love you. i have loved you from the moment you smiled at me. it terrified me, how much i love you and how much i was willing to do anything for you. i love you more than i could ever understand and i’m sorry if i couldn’t say it that time, i’m sorry if this is a bit late, but i love being needed by you. i love being around you. i-i need you, more than you could ever need me.”

he didn’t notice the tears spilling to his cheeks before you wiped it away for him.

your eyes looking so soft.

“you love me?” you breathed.

as if it was unbelievable.

as if it wasn’t possible.

sirius hates himself a little more at the thought he might have caused some insecurity for you.

because it was ridiculous.

“i love you.” and like a broken record, he repeats it. again and again and again. much firmer than the last.

and you smile, so big and beautiful. and your eyes shining and so pretty. it was like the sun was shining so much brighter that day. like the clouds were opening up in the sky and bathing you in a golden glow.

he repeats it again, because he’s spent so many years holding himself back. and if your reaction is the same every time he says it then he’ll say it everyday. with every sentence, with every greeting, with every meal you cook for him. with every night he picks you up from a pub absolutely sloshed. with every irritating conversation he has with his baby brother. with every teasing quips from the lads. with every secret smile you give him. every time he touches you, every time he looks at you. because gods, don’t you look absolutely magnificent and unbelievable right now.

“i love you,” he repeats.

“i love you too.” you laugh. like your smile was getting too wide and too happy that you had to laugh.

and his heart soars. couldn’t stop himself even if he tried, as he leans in and captures your lips like he’s done so many times before.

thinking himself a proper idiot if he ever thought he could ever live without touching your lips ever again.

he touches your face like he did the night before. he grabs your waist like he always does. and he tilts your heads like a time before. he tastes a salty thing as your tears slides near his lips and he relishes in its taste.

he feels the warmth spreading to his entire face and body. feels the humming of his magic intertwining with yours. your soft mouth moving against him. and the stretch of your lips, smiling into the kiss.

he pulls away even if he didn’t want to.

“i love you,” he says again, and you smile at him so sweetly.

he repeats it because of your pretty smile.

and again. because he can.

987 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 1 year ago

Text

This Cozy House (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob spend a chilly fall evening goofing around with the babies

It was absolutely freezing out, more so than it had been since last year despite it being only early October. It was already dark out in early evening, the sun having set around five-thirty in the evening while dinner was left to slow cook in the crockpot, but the house was as brightly lit and cozy as ever.

Auggie and Patrick's squealing giggles soon reached your ears as Bob tickled them, the three laughing up a storm in the living room. You laughed just as they did, your hands trailing to your bump as your baby girl kept rolling over.

A sudden noise made you jump a little along with Bob's stern warning to your son. "August Robert," he chided. "If you're gonna rough-house, take your glasses off."

"Ok Daddy," he chirped, quickly removing his glasses and setting them down on the endtable.

You pulled the grainy loaf of bread out of the oven and put it on the back of the stove, cutting it with great ease and putting it on the plate. The rain battering the roof was growing louder and louder, rattling the pipes that held up the stove vents whole a menacing roll of thunder was heard outside.

"Storm's rollin in (y/n)?" Bob asked as Patrick rolled onto one of the couch cushions on the floor.

"They said it was gonna get bad in a few hours," you told him, bringing the bread to the table. "Not sure how these two are gonna sleep tonight."

Bob nodded in agreement. Storms in California had been nothing compared to those in Montana where you were currently living. All summer long, you and Bob had not only worried about tornadoes but the wildfires which tended to spark up close to towns and cities. Luckily for you, Bob and his family had worked with a local hotshot team to create a burn line so that the ranch would survive.

"C'mon Patrick, roll to Daddy," Bob encouraged.

Patrick squealed and giggled as he somersaulted off the couch and into his father's arms. It always ended the same with Bob putting him back on the couch and having him roll right off, over and over again until finally the timer on the crockpot went off.

"Auggie, grab your glasses, then come eat."

"Ok."

You and Bob were soon seated at the table with Auggie and Patrick, the four of you just having said grace before dinner was passed around, hot pieces of bone-in fried chicken, white-cheddar mac n cheese with toasted breadcrumbs, green beans and the grainy crust of bread that had smelled so good warming in the oven.

Everyone ate their fill and talked about their day and all that had come about. "Oh," Bob said suddenly. "Sweet cheeks, before I forget, I've got next week off so I can go and get the boys from school."

"Does Luanne know?"

"She knows," Bob assured you. "Dad helped her and Magnus fix their windows last week since he had his rotator-cuff surgery. He told her I was gonna pick the boys up as soon as they were done on their nature walks."

Excellent....you thought. One less thing to worry about......

As soon as the boys had finished, you and Bob took care of the dishes and the leftovers, putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and putting the leftover food into clean plastic containers to store in the fridge for tomorrow's lunch.

"You want me to take care of baths tonight?" you asked Bob.

"Absolutely not," Bob insisted. "You're eight months pregnant and I don't want you having to hurt yourself."

"Bob, c'mon, we've been through this twice already," you chuckled.

"Which is exactly why I don't want you to hurt yourself," Bob informed you.

"I'm just teasing," you told him.

You leaned into his embrace, happy and content as ever in his arms as he lovingly kissed you, his hand resting on your bump when he felt the tiny little feet of your daughter against his palm.

"You get some sleep my sweet little pea," he mumbled as he stooped to one knee to kiss your belly. "I have a feeling you're gonna be trouble like your brothers."

You laughed a little bit before Bob told you to go and settle in and to get the Friday night movie ready. It was an odd choice of Auggie and Patrick's, but they were beginning to really love Disney's "Fantasia", one that Bob had grown up watching. Even if neither of them understood it, they loved the images that matched up with the music.

Bob quickly gave them their baths and stuck them both in their warm little pjs just in case they fell asleep during the movie. Auggie had run to his room to go and grab his little Dumbo stuffie off his bed while Patrick waddled out with his little brownie bear in its soft knit sweater that you and Bob's mother had both worked on when Patrick had been born.

You and Bob pulled out the couch bed and piled it with blankets, pillows and anything else to keep warm, snuggling in with your boys between you, your family dog jumping up to warm your feet and the movie playing on the tv screen in the living room. You and Bob couldn't have been more content than at that very moment, with both your boys between you, all snuggled under the warm quilts and blankets as the storm passed you by outside. Yet here you remained, unaffected by the rain battering the windows and safe in each other's arms, just as you knew, you always would be

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

152 notes · View notes

aqua-dan · 1 year ago

Text

🌶️ DC Kitchen - Green Arrow's Chili aka "Ollie's Stupendous Chili Recipe (Just like Mom used to make!)" 🌶️

I don't know what possessed me recently -- I really don't, -- but for some reason I got the idea that it would be a good choice to make and eat my way through the DC universe using recipes provided by DC themselves. I bought a bunch of official cookbooks and looked up as many recipes as I could that have appeared in a DC comic. But in truth, I already knew which recipe I would be making first: Ollie's infamous chili; spicy crisis on infinite tongues.

... and it. is. HORRIBLE. 🤮

This is quite possibly close to the WORST chili I have ever had the displeasure of putting in my mouth. Oliver Queen, what the fuck?!

Quick disclaimer that, although I tried to follow the recipe as closely as possible, there were a few parts I was unable to replicate. The most major of these changes was the exclusion of the lean sirloin chunks. Meat and I don't vibe. Perhaps this chili would have tasted better with meat in it (and potentially would have been less liquid-y too), but it is as it is there. The other change I made (if you can call it a change) is that I specifically searched out the hottest version of each spice I could find. If you were to personally use less intense chili powder mixes & paprika, as well as use less Tabasco, it would probably be a bit more palatable. However, I wanted to replicate the authentic "Ollie's Chili Experience."

The first step, of course, was to prepare my spice mix. I couldn't find California Chili Powder in a pre-prepared form, so I had to buy and dry the chilis myself.

What you're seeing here is 2 tsp of cumin, 2 tsp of paprika, 1 tsp Cayenne (~45,000 Scovilles), 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper, 1 TBSP California Chili Powder (2,500 Scovilles), I could not find Gebhardt Chili Powder but I substituted with TRS Chili Powder Mix Extra Hot (~170,000 Scovilles), 1 TBSP Hot New Mexico Chili Powder (~1,500 Scovilles), 1 1/2 tsp salt, and some dried basil.

Because I wasn't using meat in the recipe, I let the spice mix dry toast for a little while before I went about adding the onions and garlic.

Then came a little oil to replace what would have been some of the fat from the meat, and to that went the onions and garlic. Since the green pepper was optional, I decided against using it since there's something about the sweetness of bell peppers that I absolutely hate 😬

After I let the onions soften, I added the chunked tomatoes, tomato sauce, and water and left it on the stove to simmer for a few hours.

As directed, during the last 10 minutes of cooking, I added the beans, brown sugar, and a TBSP or so of Tabasco (~5,000 Scovilles)

The finished product was a watery, unpleasant mess with (in my opinion) not nearly enough substance. Now, I know that if I added meat, it would have been heartier, but even then I don't know if this amount of water and tomato sauce would have cooked down to something satisfactory. Where is the corn? The squash?? Why not more beans??? Ollie, what IS this???

You are meant to serve it with "help yourself" bowls of crackers, cheese, and chopped onions. I went with the onions and crackers when I served myself a bowl.

Bone apple teeth.

🔥🔥🔥 IT IS HOT 🔥🔥🔥

Admittedly, that's partially on me for trying to make it extra spicy, but still, I guess they aren't kidding about that part. It's not "melt your mouth off" hot like the picture of the League there seems to suggest. It certainly does have a SOLID kick, but it won't leave you coughing, gasping, or begging for milk. You feel it far more on the front of your tongue and almost not at all in the back.

All in all, I do believe that anyone with a little bit of spice tolerance could manage to finish a bowl. However... do you REALLY want to? It's just straight up not good chili. It reminds me of the kind of chili you get from church luncheon fundraisers in the Midwest USA, and that is NOT A GOOD THING.

Ollie... you make me feel sorry for all of your friends and anyone else you've ever managed to shove your cooking off on 🤢

______________________________________________________________

Let me know if there's any other DC recipes you'd like me to make!

#Oliver Queen #Bruce Wayne #Barry Allen #Hal Jordan #J'onn J'onzz #Dinah Lance #Arthur Curry #Clark Kent #Food #Chili #DC Recipes #My husband refuses to eat this

70 notes · View notes

observeowl · 1 year ago

Text

Her Assistant | Chapter 1 - Romanoff's Mansion

Summary: After losing her family, Natasha Romanoff builds her company from the ground up. During the rise of her company, she decided she needed an assistant, one that works in her office and her house. That's when she saw your resume. After working five years for her, how was it like working for her? Or more importantly, how things progress?

Series Masterlist

Your POV In the outskirts of New York there lies a mansion. The distinguished family of Romanoff's morning event started off with an early cup of coffee.

"Miss Romanoff, it's time to wake up. Today's breakfast of poached salmon and mint salad has been prepared. Side dishes of toast, scones and compagne (a type of French peasant bread) have been baked. Which one would you like?" I ask the owner of the mansion as I pour her her first cup of coffee for the day as soon as she's awake.

"The scones..." She replied, still feeling the sleepiness in her. "That aroma... Is it Robusta coffee beans?" She inquired.

"Yes."

We went through the plans for the day and went ahead with the first thing on the agenda after Miss Romanoff finished her breakfast.

Having a famous household name that spread nationwide, there would be plenty of people challenging her status, thinking they would be able to take her spot and my role is to get rid of those pesky rats.

Currently, the Wing family and I are having a bout in front of Miss Romanoff. There was absolutely no reason for them to be issuing a challenge against us but they weren't the only ones. Miss Romanoff accepted the challenge solely because she wanted to have some entertainment in her time.

"How... how do you know this technique?" Mr Wing stuttered after I knocked him down with his own specialty.

"How can I be Miss Romanoff's assistant if I couldn't use that technique?" I dusted my hands off even though I was wearing my gloves.

"How boring. I thought you would be defeated today." Miss Romanoff rolled her eyes when she saw I won the fight once again. Mr Wing was chased out by Bucky once he lost the fight.

I smiled at her ignoring her comment and glared at the rest of the staff as they were supposed to be doing their job and not watching the scene as well. "There was a call from Italy." I told Miss Romanoff as I draped her long coat around her shoulders.

"From Clause?"

"That's right."

We walked towards her study and further discussed our plans for later. We talked about the company's import and export and who could be our potential threat. It's going to be one hell of a show.

I sighed at Miss Romanoff's orders, she loves to toy with people as they underestimate her because she's a lady. But her wish is my command.

---

I went out to get the things needed for the party later. I could have them delivered but I preferred being able to choose them by hand. Only the finest deserve to be served in front of Miss Romanoff.

I came back within two hours but the house was left in a disarray compared to when I left. "Bucky!" I screamed. He immediately came running towards me. "What in the world is going on?"

He chuckled without having an answer. "I'm not great at decorating." I sighed as guests were coming soon.

"Just leave this to me and stay in your room please."

I clapped my hands twice and started working immediately, salvaging as much as possible so I wouldn't have to redo the entire thing. When the time was approaching, I went to Miss Romanoff's room to make sure she was all ready for her guest.

She was all dressed and ready to go in her elegant dress but there was something amiss. "You look great, Miss Romanoff, but please do something about that sour look. Even if it is a lie, please make it seem like you're having fun." I stood by the door and looked at her through the mirror.

"Who are you to tell me what to do!" She turned around and raised her voice. "Smiling... To smile happily, I've forgotten how to do so." With a flick of her hair and finishing touches with her lipstick, she walked into the party with confidence and greeted her guests.

Natasha POV "Somehow, there seems to be a rat in here too." Sam said.

A couple of us went down to the basement where it was privately just for me and my few business partners. Not even Y/L/N came down with me. I had enough of mingling with the usual people and went down to have our own fun. The party was just a front to invite the people I wanted to meet.

"How long do you intend to let that harmful animal that scavenge for food and spread diseases around do as it pleases?" Clint asked as it was his turn to hit in the snooker game.

"Shall we let it go as it pleases? Or shall we make it swim?" Sam asked as he waited for his turn.

"Will you pass again, Romanoff?" Clint asked.

"Pass. The ball you can't help hitting is an un-hit principle." I stated while sitting comfortably on my armchair.

"That's good judgement. When will the rat be exterminated?" Ross asked.

"Soon, I have already received the ingredients from Clause." I stood up from my majestic seat and walked towards the pool table. "We will eradicate the rat's nest and break a few bones. When can I receive compensation for this?" I wasn't going to do this for free, I still have a business to run.

"Ahhh, a fail... billiards is hard." Sam said.

"This evening." Ross replied.

"That's fine. I'll have someone pick it up afterwards. Please wait for your snack to be prepared." I reached the pool table and bent forward aiming at the white ball. Ross clenched his jaw, not used to people speaking to him that way. But there was nothing he could do, he needed my help. And it wasn't going to be for free. Good things have a price to be paid.

"Will you aim for the nine-ball with the remaining three-ball?" Clint asked, understanding my flair in the game.

I smirked at him and pulled my arm backwards getting ready to hit the ball. "Are you underestimating me? I never lost a game."

Your POVAfter settling the rowdy bunch of servants and cooks, I finally have the time to catch a respite. The employees of Romanoff mansion are brilliant in their own way but taking care of a house is not one of them.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Miss Romanoff was done engaging with her friends. After sending her friends off from the mansion, I followed Miss Romanoff to her office.

"Y/L/N! Finish preparing for tonight." She instructed and I instantly knew what she meant.

"Understood, Miss Romanoff. I'll bring up your drink shortly." With that, she entered the office alone and I went to catch the rat I saw running across the hall.

"Bucky, clean this up please." I handed the rat to him and continued on with my duties. I went to prepare Miss Romanoff's cocktail which she always has before going to sleep but when I returned, she was nowhere to be seen.

The desk was in a mess and the window was forced open. This is the third floor, how did anyone climb up the building? I sighed knowing the cocktail I worked hard preparing was going to waste.

"Ah Bucky. Great timing." I called out to him when I saw him once again. "Help me finish this would you?" I passed the cocktail to him without explaining much.

Natasha POV After Y/L/N left, someone crept up behind me and covered my mouth with a cloth, causing me to pass out.

"The backside of America's public order..." I heard someone say while being bound by numerous chains. "Traitors will be bitten to death by the SHIELD's watchdog." I was a little bruised during my transport here. My clothes were no longer pristine but decorated with my blood.

"How many street names have they been burdened with? And how many families have been crushed?" The voice continues to speak.

"Who would have thought that the CEO of the world's best toy factory is just a woman, right? I thought you would open a strip club or something." He placed his fingers under my chin and tilted my head. "Natasha Romanoff."

"It really was you." I said, spitting out the blood that was collected in my mouth. "Ferro family, Azzuro Ferro."

"You know, Natasha, the Italian Mafia finds this country bothersome. It really is a pain." He started walking around like he was the main character of a book.

"You don't get to call me that!" I hissed at him.

He ignored me and continued his fanciful story. "Think about it, what's the most beneficial market for people like us?" He gave me a few seconds to think about it but of course I didn't reply. He's not worthy of my words. "It's not women nor spare parts. It's drugs, you know." He held his cigar and inhaled its scent.

"Even so, when we came to this country, thanks to the successful glares of the watchdogs, we haven't been able to catch a single relaxing scent." He growled at me, angry that neither him nor his lackey were able to have a good time. Getting rid of me is not easy so he decided to give me a proposition. "In the end, aren't we two sides of the same coin? So I just want us to cooperate a bit."

"In your dreams, I have no intentions of conspiring with a filthy rat." I didn't even spend time thinking about it.

"Who would have guessed that Clause would go to such lengths to obtain the drugs. Because of that I only get half of my share. Now do you understand...? If you're lying about where the goods are kept, I won't hesitate to feed you to the dogs."

Silence surrounded us and the only sound we could hear was the sound of clock ticking.

"We already kept your servants waiting. Where are the goods? If you don't spill quickly, I'll kill your servants one by one." He drops the gentleman stunt and reverts back to being the villain, which suits him more in my opinion.

I started laughing at his threats. "It would be nice if cute little puppies were able to 'fetch'." I tilted my head to the side and gave him an innocent smile. He must have thought I was being delusional in this situation.

He gave me a smile that a psychopath would have and was slightly disappointed in me. I received a blow to my face from his leather shoe,

"Do you hear me? The negotiation is over. Kill her." He spoke into his phone.

Their conversation went on for a while as he asked for updates. He was getting more agitated as I could hear panicked shrieks and he screamed into the phone and he stopped all of a sudden.

"Hello, I am a member of the Romanoff's household. I hope Miss Romanoff hasn't been troubling you." I could clearly hear Y/L/N from behind the phone with how quiet it was.

I watched as he gritted his teeth, unable to reply. "WOOF." I shouted so she could hear me.

"Certainly, Miss Romanoff. I'll come for you soon so please wait a little longer."

Your POVWhere could Miss Romanoff have gone? After handing the cocktail to Bucky, I walked towards the kitchen to see Pepper getting a snack of her own. "Hi Y/N!" She waved at me after closing the fridge.

"Hi Miss Potts." I greeted her.

"Y/N, how many times do I- '' She stopped talking when I stepped forward and pushed her to the floor. A bullet flew past us and a clear mark could be seen on the wall. "What just happened?"

"Apologies for my actions." I helped Miss Potts up from the floor and made sure she was not hurt. "Here, take this dessert for you and your boyfriend. Please be safe on your way back." I shoved the cheesecake into her hand and started walking out.

"What? Tony is not my boyfriend!"

"I didn't say anything about Mr Stark, Miss Potts." I bowed to her before hastily leaving.

Taking the mansion's car strictly for my use, I caught up to the group of people who were responsible for the shooting. They were already going above the speed limit but as soon as they saw my shadow, they increased their speed but it was no use, not against my modified car.

Pressing the pedal all the way, I caught up to them in seconds. Now riding the car next to them, I gave them a wave before pulling out my gun. I can see them getting nervous as their car swayed a little, going off road. I steered my car a little, forcing them towards the right.

"Where is Miss Romanoff?" I glared at them.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He kept darting his eyes between me and the road.

"I'm not as patient as Miss Romanoff, so tell me before I blow your brains up." I threatened and stuck my gun out of my window while driving the car with one hand.

"I really don't know." He shook his head denying everything. He gripped his steering wheel tighter and gulped. Time was ticking and I shot his shoulders and his car swayed severely. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him and he slammed the brakes but it was too late. Half of the car was already dangling off the edge of the cliff.

I got out of my car and jumped on top of his car trunk, making them tilt backwards slightly, giving them a sense of security but their lives were still in my control. I took the phone from them and was met with Azzuro from the Ferro family. I greeted him like how one would from an esteemed household. I was about to ask again when I wasn't receiving an answer but I heard the signal from Miss Romanoff from the background and knew to act.

"Thank you for the phone." I placed it back in their chest pocket for them. "Location of your master please." They were still shaking in their seats and holding onto the steering wheel for their dear life. "Come on now... I'm not a very patient person like Miss Romanoff. You don't want to end up like Humpty Dumpty do you?" I gave them a smirk that could match my master.

"He- he's setting up a hideout north of the east end!!!" They gave away instantly after the threat.

"Is that so?"

"We were- we were only hired out!"

"Oh, that's how it works? Then I apologise for detaining you. Please, enjoy your trip." I got down from the car and without the counterbalance, their car free fell off the side of the cliff into the water never to be found again.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #my writing #Her Assistant #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine

74 notes · View notes

donkeytonk · 5 months ago

Text

Hunger

Crispin (Toast) Amell is a character that belongs to @iamaweretoad. This story follows an RP thread that we made together in 2018, but you don't need to know that story in order to read this one. I'm not usually a writer, but the gardener mage Sula has stayed in my imagination all these years. Please consider this my Toast fanfic, because I love him (and miss him) very much.

Hunger

When Sula had been a girl in the Circle, she could never get enough food.

“Ethel, can’t I have some more? I’m still hungry!” she would plead.

“Good!” the old woman would snap. “That means you’re still alive.” But invariably she would give the little girl her own portion to finish, the same thing that Sula later did for her own apprentices.

Fleeing in the forests, far away from the abundance of her garden, the little children were always hungry and Sula would pretend that she could not finish. “Oh, so many beans and I’m just too full to eat them. Will you help me Flora, Miles?” By now she had learned the skill of hunger.

You don’t need food, you just need some more water, Ethel’s words always reminded her.

Fasting is good for you.

Fasting keeps you healthy from time to time.

It’s good to be hungry. It means you’re alive.

Sula had never understood the older mage’s words, and she remained skeptical of their truth. There was much of Ethel’s wisdom that she passed on to the children, but the benefits of starvation was not one of them. The elder’s past must have been particularly wanting.

At home she had been surrounded by grain, fields as far as she could see. Beyond their little cottage garden everything was grain, tall and green and shining all the way to the sea. It was taller than herself and she could not see over it, but with a special touch she could cause the stalks to bow before her, clearing a path that was just her size. The first time she had discovered this skill, she had run through the field with her arms spread wide, laughing with glee as the stalks parted in withering curls. It felt as if she ran for hours making maze paths, circles and spirals.

But after that, of course, everyone had been angry. The man with the black beard had always frightened her, and he yelled at her father about putting a sun on her forehead. She had not known what that meant at the time, but when he demanded that they “give her to me!” she ran to the house to hide in the cupboard. Then during the night, her mother had roused her from bed to get dressed, and she was taken away. She could not remember what lie they told her but she thought then that it was temporary, just some good people to protect her for a while, just until the bearded man calmed down. There was a man in armor that made her feel peculiar and anxious, but they told her that he was there to make sure she was safe.

And now she had the power to nurture growth in those fields. Her parents could have bought their own land within a couple of years with the wealth of grain that she could have produced. But she had nearly no memory of who they were, not their names nor their village. They had just been mama and papa to her. They never wrote or visited. Would they have welcomed her home if they knew of her skills now?

But the other members of the Circle became her family, and she was proud of her ability to provide. There had been such lean years in her younger days, but with her innate skills and the knowledge of Lene, the herbalist, they had managed to make the courtyard garden flourish. They had started with Lene’s medicinal herbs, and the villagers were pleased to purchase tinctures, tonics and oils ostensibly blessed through magic. Locally their Circle earned a reputation as fine herbalists, and best of all, for the Chantry, it all brought in more money. There was not much land within their enclosure, but somehow, through the promise of more income, they were allowed to purchase a field nearby where they started to grow their own food: grain and vegetables, beans and berries, and they even made a little orchard. Lene taught Sula how to preserve fruits for winter, how to dry and store the fat tubers, how to save seeds and take cuttings for new propagation, as well as her usual medicinal mixtures. Sula taught Lene and the apprentices how to dessicate weeds with a touch, how to enrich the soil’s goodness, how to extend its moisture, to increase a plant’s vitality, and how to warm and encourage growth day by day.

***

In the forest they were constantly hungry. There had not been enough warning time or else they could have brought more food with them. Every day and every night when her stomach tightened, she thought of her orchard and vegetables. The villagers would probably take it all, but they wouldn’t know how to nurture it. They wouldn’t know to pinch off the tops, would they? Did they know how to trim the branches? They would descend like locusts and eat everything. They wouldn’t know to save the seeds, and the collection would be lost forever. It had taken her years to acquire them all. Some of them came from places she had only heard of in traveler’s tales.

And her stores! Dried apples and pears, almonds, all the different beans still on their racks, preserved plums in bottles buried in the cellar, frostberries dry and in crocks with spirits, fresh peas and dried peas and peas in spiced oil, hazelnuts and their paste, dried apricots, the long plaits of onions and garlic hanging from the rafters, all the tubers harvested and covered in straw, the starts for next spring, the seeds in dry pots, the seeds in wet sand, the rare seeds in her treasure box, the sunflower seeds for planting and eating. The wheat, barley, amaranth, sedgeseed.

“It’s all right, you finish it,” she would tell the youngest children. “It will be our secret, promise?” Fasting is good for you. You don’t need food, you just need water. Ethel had lived through lean times. The older mages too needed all the strength they could get, hunting, clearing paths, scouting for safety. A gardener has no work on the run, so protecting the children became her primary duty. Her body remembered how to go without.

I’m hungry!

Good, that means you’re alive.

Dear old Ethel, what hunger did you survive?

And then they had found the dead soldiers and their empty fort. There was only one man still alive there, and he seemed not to mind a relief of his duties. There were barracks and beds and stores of food. Mora made them a stew the very first night, and everyone ate their fill and more. There were clean clothes and blankets, fresh water, enough time for rest, and three weeks of peace.

Sula began to think of starting a garden. There is hope in a garden, thoughts of the future in a garden, plans for life in a garden. Two weeks of life full of possibilities. Some dried peas and wheat in the stores were still viable, and she could search for dried berries in the woods. She found a spot near the well where grass was still growing green. The soil must be good there. That would be her garden. One week of preparation and winter planting.

***

The Inquisition soldiers had started a fire in the fort while they were asleep and attacked them as they fled for safety. She had told the children to follow Bennet, the eldest. There were only five of them now: Bennet, Sal, Deidre, Flora, Miles. Bennet wanted to fight, but he seemed to understand that getting the younger ones to safety was paramount. She should have gone herself. What had happened to them? How had Miles gotten separated from the rest? Had any of the other children been killed too? Had Bennet or Sal carried them away to die in the forest? Had Bennet been wounded and Miles came to find her? She had promised that she would be right behind them.

Why had she thought she must bring her staff?

Because she was just a gardener. She did not have the fighting skills or expertise of the others. In spite of years of training, she was no fighter. But with the aid of her wooden staff she thought she might be able to protect the children, perhaps, if their little group was not directly attacked. But now, in the face of utter loss, she knew that she would have been useless to save them, with or without that damned staff. There were too many soldiers and a much stronger mage. If she had gone with the apprentices, at least she could have died trying. At least she would not have outlived Miles.

Instead she had been trapped in the doorway, knocked down by the falling timbers and her arm pinned to the ground. How she had screamed as the fire climbed her arm! And still there was no one to help her. Screams were everywhere in the fort and outside of it and no one seemed to notice hers. She could not even remember how she managed to escape, how she had managed to flee to the woods. She could not remember anything until a soldier stood in front of her aiming an arrow at her heart, a soldier with an Inquisition mage at his side.

***

With her mana drained by the enemy mage and her good hand tethered to a soldier’s belt, she was helpless, useless, defenseless. She could do nothing with her bandaged arm, although it was slowly healing under the other mage’s attention. He was a healer. Why couldn’t she have been a healer? What use was gardening if her people died by fire and arrows? And now she would be killed too, or worse, made tranquil, alive in body but not in spirit. They would put the sunburst on her forehead and her personhood would be lost; she would become a mindless slave with no will of her own, a dead thing living on for years. There would be no more Sula Ronoy, just a body.

When the Circle had fled to the forests, they had never marched this much in a day. They had had to pace themselves for the children while the faster ones scouted ahead. These soldiers were used to long marches though, and they kept going on with no sign of flagging at all. Sula had never walked so much in her life. The female soldier dragging her along was the same one she had met the first morning after being captured, one who seemed to particularly hate mages, even their own healer Crispin. Perhaps she hated everybody. Sula certainly hated her.

But finally the sky was growing dim and soon there would be no light to see their way. They stopped for the night.

“Sit there,” the woman ordered, pulling Sula to a spot near the edge of their campsite. As Sula sank to the ground in relief, the woman pulled the tether on Sula’s wrist and lashed it to a tree.

“I need some water,” Sula begged.

“You’ll get some later.” And the woman left her, clearly glad to be rid of her charge.

Finally, Sula was alone. The soldiers were nearby, setting up camp and starting fires, but no one paid any attention to her. Her feet ached, her arm ached, her entire body ached. But now that she was still, her grief overflowed like a broken dam and drowned every bodily sense. Her friends were gone forever, the only family that she knew in the world. Her little boy was dead. Two of her friends were dead. She would be tortured for the deaths of those other soldiers until they broke her to betray her friends. They would make her say terrible things, and then they would hunt them down and kill them all, even the children.

We don’t kill children, their mage had said. But they did.

She could not even wipe her face with her good hand, tied as close as it was to the tree. It didn’t matter. She let the tears fall and she wept, curled on the ground in the mud of snowmelt.

*** “Mage! Wake up and eat.” The woman kicked Sula awake and set down a bowl of something hot. She was already walking away as Sula struggled to sit up. She looked at the bowl with confusion at first, reaching out the awkward paw of her heavily bandaged hand and tugging at the tether that trapped the other.

“Wait,” she called as the woman joined her comrades. “I can’t eat like this.”

The woman snorted. “Oho, does madam need a golden spoon?” The other soldiers laughed as she mimicked a bow, then she sat down to fill her own bowl. One of them called her by her name: Eklund.

“I can’t eat with my hand like this,” Sula insisted.

Eklund rolled her eyes. “No one said I’d be a wet nurse to feed a baby. Wait for your mage to come and help you.”

The healer mage who had betrayed her into this fate? The man who had lied when he promised her freedom? He was on the far side of the campsite. He had stayed away from her during the day’s march, and now he was continuing to keep his distance. Perhaps he had saved her life by treating her burned arm, through all its tortuous pain, but his prize was her capture for the Inquisition. He had used his power to drain her of her mana so she would be helpless and harmless. She was in no hurry to see him again.

Should she lap up the soup like a dog? In spite of crushing grief, she was hungry. The exhausting march had left her ravenous. But her bandaged hand could do nothing more than prod the bowl as it sat on the ground. She would have to wait. Fasting is good for you.

***

She awoke with a scream and tried to sit up, panicking, pain burning both of her hands. Her body was frozen but her hands were on fire. She screamed again as she discovered she could not move them.

The biggest most fearsome guard came rushing over, but for now his face was full of concern. “What is it?”

“My hand, I can’t feel my hand! It’s burning!”

The other soldiers were still sitting around their fire. She could not have been asleep for long. Eklund grumbled “She’s having nightmares and it’s barely even night yet.”

The big man stared down at her bandaged hand. “Oh. I’ll go and get the healer to take a look.”

“No! No, no, this hand!” She looked at her right hand tied to the tree. “I can’t move it, I can’t feel it! Please! It’s too tight!”

He hesitated, perhaps wondering if it was a trick, but when he touched her hand he could feel that it was hot and her fingers so swollen that they could barely move.

“Damn it, Eklund, you can’t tie her hand so tight! Sorry, missy. Don’t fret, don’t cry, you’ll be all right.” He was searching for the knots when he was interrupted.

“Rennick, what’s going on?”

Sula looked up and through the blur of her tears she saw the red hair of the healer mage Crispin.

“Oh, Mister Toast, the apostate girl was just complaining her hand was sore. I think it just got too tight here, I’ll fix it.”

And then she was released from the tree. The big soldier Rennick left her in the care of the healer who crouched down to examine her. He observed the swelling, the heat, the redness, and sent a cool glow from his own hand to hers. “Can you make a fist? Can you open and close your fingers? Move like this. It will feel better soon.”

Her panic subsiding, Sula nodded as she stretched her sore hand.

Crispin looked around and said “You don’t have a blanket?”

“Where would I get a blanket?” she retorted, tears still coloring her voice.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure that you get one.” He noticed the bowl of soup. “You didn’t eat?”

“How?” she demanded. “I couldn’t even pick it up.”

“I’m sorry. Here, can you hold it now?” He held it out for her good hand, now with enough slack in its tether to allow her movement. She reached out and awkwardly gripped the bowl. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.” His voice was dull and officious. He stared at her as she took a sip, and then he abruptly rose and left.

The broth was already cool as she drank it, but there were pieces of tough meat still warm within, and she was able to eat them with her fingers.

Rennick was sent to deliver a blanket.

***

On the second day her mind was fixed on what she would say under interrogation. There was no point in silence or denial. She would need to tell a convincing story, since the truth had not been enough. The officer had accused her of killing the soldiers, and then – was it afterwards? – he had asked her about blood magic. She was not a blood mage, but if it would save her friends to confess it, she would say that she was. She would take the blame for killing all the soldiers, but she was not even sure how such a thing worked. “I summoned a demon to kill everyone”? Between her waves of panic, she still felt grief and rage. Could she take down the healer with her lie too? He was leading her today, more considerate than Eklund for all that he tried to ignore her. She hated him at every painful step on the path, hated every inch of his back as he marched tirelessly ahead of her. She would go to the lieutenant as soon as she was able. She would shout for him in camp if she had to.

“Lieutenant! I am a maleficar, an abomination, a blood mage.”

“But our mage said that you were not.”

“That’s because he’s one too.”

No. It was a daydream, and she doubted anyone would believe that. If they had ever suspected Crispin, they would not have let him join the Inquisition. She needed an explanation that they would believe in order to protect her friends. The lieutenant already had his doubts, but she had heard that his commander was a Templar knight. A Templar would have to believe her confession, wouldn’t he? And then she would be dead and not so tired, not so hungry and not so completely full of grief.

***

Eklund had charge of her again on the third day. At times the snow was higher than the tops of Sula’s boots and it poured in and melted on her toes. They felt like frozen fire and distracted her from her other aches.

They were crossing the mountains by now, and many of the paths were narrow and tricky. Even Eklund slipped once or twice on the ice. In spring this area must full of waterfalls, and the ravine probably held a river. It reminded Sula that she was horribly thirsty.

You don’t need food, you just need some water. But water would make her need to relieve herself more often, and Eklund’s impatience was violent. You don’t need water, you just need…

A string of curses accompanied Eklund’s misstep, and she landed hard on her backside. Sula’s arm was jerked forward and she cried out as she fell as well. She managed to stumble against the soldier’s back. “Careful,” Eklund grunted. “It’s slippery.” Other soldiers helped them back to their feet.

It was indeed slippery there. It was a mountain and the path tended to slope to the side. There were trees to catch them most of the time, but in this space around the waterfall there was nothing but rocks and ice. Instead of a slope below the path, the drop was almost a precipice. If she were to fall – if she were to jump – she would have a clear shot to the rocks below, a steep enough plunge that she might break her neck or skull. Attached to the other end of her rope, Eklund would be pulled down with her.

Eklund will have to step on that flat rock. That rock is smooth and it looks icy. There, that short man nearly slipped on it. She’ll be pulled off her feet. I’ll step onto that boulder then over the side. See Miles, I told you I’d be right behind you.

“Here missy, don’t look down.” A large voice and massive person was behind her, wrapping his own arm around her good one. It was the big soldier, Rennick. The sudden touch shocked her from all of her thoughts. “No, no no, don’t be scared, miss! I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall. You just hold on to me and you’ll be safe, all right? Eklund, pass me the rope here. She’s too scared to move.”

*** By the fourth day, her feet were too sore to walk. Crispin was able to ease their pain, but her wet boots and stockings continued to chafe, inflaming the raw skin over and over. She was exhausted, hungry and thirsty all the time. The soldiers each carried their own water, but she had to beg for every sip.

You don’t need food, you just need water.

They would reach their destination tomorrow, they said.

At night it was always difficult to wrap herself in a blanket using only one hand. When everyone else seemed to be asleep that night, she pushed away her blanket and let the snow fall on her. With luck she would freeze to death in her sleep. She lay there for some time with her eyes closed, letting the cold chill her to the bone. She tried to fall asleep but could not control her shivering. And she had been wrong that everyone was sleeping. Someone walking through the camp noticed her, even in the dark. It must have been a sentry on watch. He brushed off the snow and covered her again, then built a small fire and sat down to watch her. Despite herself, she desperately welcomed the warmth. Then she felt the weight of a second blanket or cloak. When her shivering subsided at last, she fell asleep.

*** On the fifth day, she woke with an aching throat. This accompanied her inflamed feet, burned arm, exhausted body, aching head, chafed wrist, thirst and hunger. When they finally arrived at her prison, terror seized her at first. For all her stoicism of facing death for her friends, the prospect of imprisonment and torture in the chantry’s dungeon overcame her heart. She had screamed as they dragged her down to the depths, and the presence of a Templar guard further frightened her. Putrid smells and rats, damp straw and bitter cold all conspired to break her will, but at last the long march was over. She was utterly exhausted, and in the end not even fear could keep her awake. She fell asleep, then woke feeling thoroughly ill.

Everything was filth, including herself. For days already she had worn the same clothes; she was given no water to wash with, barely even enough water to drink. The blankets smelled like mildew. Even the bread they gave her tasted of filth. You don’t need food…

Her body fluctuated between burning and freezing. Every touch felt like a bruise. She coughed until she thought that her ribs would break.

But the five days in the cell dragged on like years, and still they did not come to interrogate her. She had heard tales of their brutal treatment of mages. What were they waiting for? Had they already sentenced her to die of neglect? She barely noticed her guards anymore. It was just the healer Crispin, now her only link to the world. He seemed kind sometimes now. She told him that she was ready to confess but he advised her against it; he seemed to know the spymaster and what she would want to hear.

“Do you have any water?” He did not.

He brought Sula blankets and tried to soothe her fever. He tended her burns and cut the tether off of her wrist. He acted like a real healer. She was grateful. His might be the last friendly face that she would ever see.

“Sula, won’t you eat something?”

No. The time for all of that was past. Swallowing anything was agony in her throat. All she wanted was to sleep forever. If they questioned her now she knew all would be lost, but she could not summon the will to care about her fate.

I’m already in my grave. “I’m not hungry.”

---

(Part 2 here)

#sula ronoy #toast amell #crispin amell #cw: suicide mention

13 notes · View notes

tf2-oneshots · 2 years ago

Note

heavymedic awkward confession please? with a side of first kiss and lots of fluff pretty please 🥺

Oooh i love them!

Warning: none

Rating: General

Breakfast at the base, especially during ceasefires, were as chaotic as can be. Nine men trying to squeeze around each other to grab milk cartons, toast, and fight over who gets to use the good pan first. It’s no help that the stove only holds eight burners, and today, everyone wants to cook at the exact same time.

“Stop shoving me! I gotta make my food right.” Scout huffs when Medic bumped into him for the third time. His eyes are locked on the three pancakes sitting in the pan. Never the best at knowing when to flip them, he’s making it his mission to get them perfect.

“I wouldn’t if I could. Pyro, you’re going to set off the fire alarm again.” He looks down at the too hot pan of scrambled eggs, popping from air bubbles every few seconds. Pyro muffles an annoyed complaint, stirring their food as smoke rises.

“Doktor, give Heavy bowl.” At the center of the conglomeration is the Russian attempting to finish his porridge. Although the strongest, the man was being hit in every direction by his coworkers. The continuous bumps nearly spilled Heavy’s raisins into Engineer’s sausage gravy.

Medic leans over to Sniper to reach, but right as he does so, the Aussie jumps back with a shout. His strips of bacon sizzled out of control, burning him with hot grease. The motion knocks Medic against Demo, who had just taken a pot of beans off the stove.

“Watch it!” The Scotsman swerves his scalding food away from the open flame only to crash into Spy. She screams, both in pain and disgust as hot beans spill onto her suit. The pot clatters to the floor, sending Spy backwards into Engineer.

He drops a jar of honey for her crepe right into the Texan’s biscuits and gravy, splashing said gravy onto several of the men. Medic tries to dodge only to slip on the bean covered floor. The doctor reaches out, grasping at whatever he can to not fall face first into multiple pans of food and fire.

“Ah!!” Two steps forward, and his face crashes into Heavy’s. Their lips press flat together, leaving the men stunned as the smoke alarm sounds. As Medic straightens himself, he realizes he never grabbed Heavy that bowl he needed.

“Uh…aheh, sorry…” Behind them, Scout drops several dishes as he hits the floor. He groans, sneakers coated in beans as Engineer fights the fire starting on the stovetop. Pyro merely cheers, completely unscathed as she enjoys her meal.

“Is okay…we should sit in living room.” The two leave the chaotic kitchen for the quieter space adjacent to it. They sit on the same couch with just enough room between them to not be awkward. Of course, they weren’t sitting too close for the same reason. Medic clears his throat.

“Was it weird to be kissed by me?” A hesitant question. The German smooths his pants to occupy his hands. Why do they feel clammy? The room is much cooler than the kitchen, and its just them. Right, just them….

“No, Heavy feels…happy with Doktor. Would not be upset by kiss.” The Russian tries to word himself just right. In his mother tongue, he could speak for days on how he feels about Medic. Even the best of poems and novels would pale in comparison.

“I wouldn’t be upset by it either. Heavy, for sometime I have felt…close to you. Aheh, very close. More than anyone else.” Medic moves an inch to test the waters. His hand lays in between them, silently offering itself to the other. A second passes before Medic feels a larger palm lay atop his own

“Heavy feels the same. I…love you, Doktor.” Love. That’s the right word. Heavy knew each version by heart in Russian. The passionate, the hesitant, the carnal, and many other ways to say the one word in English. If he’s certain of anything, its that this love is the romantic kind. The one he’s desired for years.

“Misha, I love you too. Oh, I feel like a schoolboy.” Medic covers his face to giggle. It’s as if he’s a child with his first crush confessing to him! The doctor squeezes Heavy’s hand softly and leans in.

“May we kiss again?” Eyes closed and lips puckered, Medic sat in wait. The couch creaks slightly, dipping beneath the shift atop it. Heavy brings Medic in close, kissing him on the lips. The world drowns out as they bring each other in close. Yeah, this is what romantic love feels like.

Hope you enjoyed this!! I love these two -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #red oktoberfest

86 notes · View notes

thatgoblin · 1 year ago

Text

One Night Stand - 16 Weeks

~::~Summary: After a few weeks of forming a routine, you and John have a small surprise trip to the ER.~::~

WARNINGS: Pregnant person going to the hospital, mentions of past parental and partner abuse, mental health diagnosis. (Am not doctor, don't use me as reference.)

The morning sickness had fully bloomed. I could barely hold anything down anymore. Nothing smelt right, tasted good, or even looked appetizing. Bless John for trying at least. He began coming over in the evening to help me tidy up and make sure I was able to shower, get something into my stomach, which was usually a protein shake and buttered toast. The man made sure I took vitamins as well to make sure I wouldn’t be malnourished. We didn’t talk about Johnny or my family and while I wanted to know if anything else had happened, I couldn’t bring myself to ask. My brother lived down the street from me and never once stopped by. I could be dense at times, but I knew when I wasn’t wanted.

So, we never brought it up again. Our evenings usually consisted of him coming over after he finished work at the base, making sure I had a full water bottle, the floor wasn’t dirty, and then I would get a shower and usually pass out on the couch. Being pregnant was exhausting. Especially if you couldn’t eat as much as your body wanted without getting sick.

We had fallen into a rhythm of sorts and it was nice. While nothing remotely romantic happened, the company was still good to have. Jesse had gone back to the States for work, which left just me and John. The mundane was very welcome after seeing Johnny again.

But then my body decided it wanted to be awful.

We were sitting in the living room as he rubbed my swollen feet. Father Brown was on the TV with the volume low as we talked about our day. John had taken work home so he could spend time with Bean. He was explaining how he was planning to make sure he was home for the birth when I needed to get up to go to the bathroom.

As soon as I did, I saw black. John shouted as he caught me before I hit the ground.

“Love? Wake up,” he said, his voice tense as he laid me on the sofa. “I need you to wake up, please.” I could hear him and feel his fingers grazing over me as he looked for a pulse. It was the worst bout of fainting so far, making me nervous even though I was mostly used to them by then. “Shit, shit, shit. Come on, Love.”

John rubbed my sternum, trying to wake me up. Despite being able to hear and feel him, I couldn't open my eyes or move more than soft groaning. It was just like the other times, but lasted much longer. Rightfully alarmed, John pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance.

“Yes, my name is John Price. I’m a Captain in SAS. My partner is 16 weeks pregnant and has passed out. I have her feet up and her pulse is slow. . . I don’t know. This is the first time it’s happened with me at least,” he said into his phone.

A few more tries of him rubbing my chest harder and I was finally able to come out of it. Grunting a bit, I raised my hands to grab his as I tried to sit up. “Easy, easy, Love,” he said, pushing me back down gently. “Stay down. There’s an ambulance on their way. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m home,” I mumbled, looking around while still a bit dizzy. “It’s fine. It happens sometimes.”

“This happens? You pass out and are unresponsive? That’s not fine,” John said. His face was pinched with worry as he made sure I didn’t try to stand up suddenly.

“It’s low blood pressure is all. I need to have more salt and stuff,” I mumbled, rubbing my face.

“You’re still going to the hospital. This isn’t normal. I want someone to look you over to see if anything is going on.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m not budging on this,” John said firmly. “I want you to be checked over as many times as necessary. Your health and Bean’s health are my top priority.”

“Fine,” I said, giving in. To be fair, I didn’t have much of a choice and was too out of it to argue.

“No, don’t do that,” John said, brushing my hair from my face. “Don’t act like your health is just a bother. This is important. You are important, okay?”

“Okay,” I said quietly, looking at him. The way he was so assertive made me feel small. Not necessarily in a bad way, but I hadn’t had someone push for me and against me before. It felt wrong. Except he was right. “I guess I should start acting like I have a Bean inside me.”

“It’s an adjustment,” he nodded, stroking my hair as he held my hand. The EMS arrived before we could continue our conversation. They took my vitals and Bean’s vitals, noting my blood pressure was very low and wanted to take me in for tests to check on the Bean. John rode with me, holding my hand as I was given an IV with saline and a sodium tablet. I hated needles and was sure I would pass out again, but John kept me distracted enough that I was able to stay awake.

By the time we reached the hospital, I was feeling a lot better. Still, some tests needed to be run. A full blood panel, toxins, etc. Thank god for John’s insurance or I’d be out a pretty penny. I tried not to think about it too much. Work already had me pulling out my hair. I was having to work odd hours to keep my usual check coming because I couldn’t be at work from being sick so much and it was getting harder. It was also adding to John’s arsenal to have me move in with him. He didn’t push, more like nudging when he was proven ‘right.’ Like at that moment as he sat next to me in a seat as I sat in a hospital bed, waiting for the test results to come back.

“Think maybe we should test your place for allergens?” He asked, scrolling down his phone as he kept his eyes on the screen.

“Allergies didn’t put me in the hospital. The Bean you planted in my cervix did and will again, probably more than once,” I said, hoping the tests would hurry up. The bed I was in wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the greatest either. At the very least I was in my pajamas and the nurse had kindly given me a few warm blankets. Another thing I didn’t realize was my low blood pressure was me constantly being cold.

“Why don’t you call the baby a baby?” John asked, putting his phone away as he stretched and adjusted in the chair.

“Why are you so fucking nosey?” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Because I helped plant a Bean in your cervix and I want to make sure they are okay as well as you,” He said, looking up at me with a small smirk.

“I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re fine either. You fucking passed out after standing up. That’s not fine or normal. Not even for a pregnant person,” John said, the teasing gone from his face. “I know that you’ve been on your own for a long time, but you’re not alone. Not anymore. I won’t let you be. So no more running, yeah?”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll work on it. It’s an impossible ask, but be patient Alright? It’s not easy and while my last boyfriend would say I am-”

“He was a shitbag,” John said, interrupting me. “Your parents and your idiot brother were shitbags to you and I’m guessing that a lot more people were shitbags to you. I know that and know that changes you as a person. After getting to know you more these last few weeks, I’m starting to see who you are being that wall they made you build to keep yourself safe and I want to know who that person is. The good and the bad and even when you aren’t fine.”

I stared at him, amazed that he saw what no one else had. Sure I used to be the typical angry ‘pick me’ that wasn’t like anyone else and I thought I had outgrown being the manic pixie dream person. Most people would think I did it on purpose, that it was an act, that no one was really like that. It was and it was the wall I had built for myself to keep safe. If someone really cared they could see it was all bullshit and call me out on it, but no one cared. Jesse did and he was one of my very best friends. Saoirse would as well. Then came John Price who went home drunk with a stranger and had sex with them. Now, he was in the hospital with me, calling me out like I’d always wanted because he knew. He knew the act and knew to check behind the walls as he had nonsense hurled at him.

Unable to speak, I reached out from under the blankets for him with my free hand. He smiled at me as he scooted closer, taking it in his larger hand. The man was too good to me and I had given him nothing but grief. I don’t know what he was getting from this, a dream of a partner and child fulfilled or just. . . I couldn’t see what he had. All I knew was that he was a normal person that was relatively well adjusted and nothing close to my mess. So why did he want me? I might never know and I was terrified to ask. It was probably best that I didn’t know. It might just break my heart and I didn’t want that with him.

“Thank you,” I said, sniffling softly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Pulling his hand close, I kissed it before nuzzling it.

“I think the same thing about you a lot, Love,” he said, rubbing my hand as I clung to his. I was on the verge of sobbing, because that was another thing I did a lot more lately, when the doctor came in.

“How are we feeling, Ms. MacTavish?” He asked as he looked over my IV.

“Better. I don’t feel dizzy or like I’m about to be sick,” I said, not letting go of John’s hand.

“Good, good. So, it looks like you do have some irregular blood pressure. We’re going to put you on a pregnancy safe medication for that as well as something for your morning sickness. You had told the EMTs that you were constantly nauseous?” He asked, pulling over a chair to sit and talk with me.

“Yeah, it’s just really hard to keep anything down,” I said with a nod. “Some days are better than others, but it’s just awful here lately.”

“She’s on a multivitamin as well, but she also only gets a protein shake and some toast down in the evenings. Smells are really strong and says anything stronger than oatmeal gives her a migraine. I read online that it can happen with pregnancy, but I wanted to make sure she got fully checked out,” John said. I hadn’t even thought of that, granted my brain was all over the place most days. Pregnancy brain was real and while I was kind of forgetful before, it got worse when I became pregnant.

“It’s good to do your research, especially if your partner isn’t able to,” the doctor said, nodding. “I saw your last check up was a few weeks ago and everything was noted as being normal. While it doesn’t happen with every person, pregnancy can have some tough symptoms. The nausea, the sensitivity to your surroundings such as lights seeming brighter that before, smells much stronger, clothes feeling off-”

“That’s just me every day,” I said with a soft snort. “I’m pretty sensitive to my surroundings already, so being pregnant just made it worse.”

“Yes, that seems to be the case in almost everyone,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “The best thing for that is to try and accommodate it as much as possible. Sunglasses inside, headphones, keeping an air purifier can help with smells. As for the nausea I can give you a few options. They are all pregnancy safe and most of them are all natural so you won’t need to worry about pills or prescriptions.” Talking further, John and I were able to get a plan together and have some sense of relief. The tests came back with me needing to drink more water, have more salt, and that was it.

“Has anything else been going on you would like to discuss?” The doctor asked.

“I think that’s it,” I said, nodding before looking to John. I couldn’t think of anything, but if there was something he would know.

“I do have a question,” he said. “Would pregnancy make focusing harder? Not with the symptoms, but just being pregnant.”

“Well, that depends,” the doctor said. “Do you usually have a hard time focusing?” He turned to me, waiting for an answer.

“Sometimes,” I said as John snorted. “A lot. I usually have to drink a ton of coffee to be able to get things done or I end up spitting out fumes by midday.”

“Have you been drinking coffee since you found out you were pregnant?” The doctor asked.

“No. Which would account for some of the headaches, but I thought it would be too harsh on the Bean,” I said.

“Hmmm,” the doctor hummed as he stood up. Going to the computer in the corner, he pulled up something I couldn’t read. “I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them as honestly as possible.”

“Alright,” I said, looking to John who just shrugged. No help from him.

“Do you often find yourself following your impulses?”

“. . . Yes.”

“When it comes to organization in your home life and work life, do you have problems in prioritizing what needs to be done?”

“Yes.”

“Would you consider yourself great with time management?”

“Ye-”

“No,” John butted in, giving me a look. “You wait until the last second to get out of bed for work, you get upset when you don’t know where to start on the house cleaning, and I watched you stare at the wall for fifteen minutes yesterday after asking if you wanted to watch a movie.”

“No, I am not good with time management,” I said with a loud sigh and glare at John. “Fuckin’ expose me to everyone and their dog.”

“Focusing on a task is easy for you.”

“Only if I like it, but anything else takes my entire brain to concentrate and even then I have a hard time finishing it.”

“You have trouble multitasking.”

“Yes.”

“You would say you have a low frustration tolerance.”

“Absolutely not,” John snorted.

“I swear to any god listening, Jo, I will hide those biscuits you love so much at my house,” I hissed at him, earning a shocked expression from him. “But he is right, I have no tolerance.”

“Last one,” the doctor said, his shoulders shaking from holding in laughter. “You find yourself having excessive activity or restlessness.”

“Yes. . . . I don’ have fucken’ ADHD Jo!” I cried, realizing what was happening, turning to shake his arm.

“That test says otherwise, doesn’t it, Doc?” John said, letting me shake his arm as he wore a smug smirk.

“It indicates a strong likelihood of it,” the doctor said, chuckling as he came back over. “You may have mild symptoms that are made worse by pregnancy, but to be fully diagnosed I can schedule you an appointment to see a psychotherapist who will run the tests and be able to tell you for sure.”

“Yes, do that,” John said, turning to me.

“Yes, make an appointment,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.

“I can put that in for you and you will receive a call with the time and office for it,” the doctor said. With some medicine in me for eating and my blood pressure, I was given the all clear to be released. Since John had not grabbed any shoes for me when we left, a nurse kindly gave me some hospital slippers, even though John offered to carry me. A quick call from him and Gaz was at the hospital to pick us up. I tried to tell him to just get a taxi, but he said it would be better this way.

“Everything alright, Cap?” Gaz asked as John opened the car door for me to sit up front.

“It is now. Just a small scare is all,” he said, getting in the back. “Go ahead and head back to the house.”

“Wait, I want to go home,” I said, looking at John confused. “No offense, but Johnny and I haven’t spoken since that last night and I don’t want any more stress.”

“It’s okay. Just stopping for a moment,” John said, reaching forward to give my shoulder a squeeze. Gaz didn’t really say much, just small mumbles at the other drivers. At Johnny’s place, where everyone seemed to live, John told Gaz to just stay parked for a few minutes while he ran in.

“So, you’re Soap’s sister?” Gaz asked, turning on the radio to play softly and keep the quiet from seeping in.

“Yeah,” I said, looking out at the dark street with silvery puddles under the moon.

“None of us really have family that we talk about. Soap’s said he had parents and sisters, but that was it. It’s mostly a safety thing,” Gaz said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “But also it’s a pain thing. We don’t get to see the family that we have very much and a few of us don’t have any.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because he’s sorry, but doesn’t know how to say it. With our work, we don’t make friends easily and the ones we do are ride or die. It has to be that way or it will get you killed. Soap said you and your sister were ride or dies for one another and he should have been that for you too. Things are different for him than for you, not as clear cut and he’s figuring that out,” he said.

“So I’m just supposed to accept him back without question? Pretend nothing bad happened?” I asked. Something about Gaz was calming. He didn’t sound like he was trying to do Johnny’s work for him, he sounded like he wanted to help us both.

“No, I didn’t say that,” he said, shaking his head. “He will need to take more time to make things right and with you being tied to the Captain, he has to. There’s no way around it.”

“I have to wait for him to do it then,” I said, wanting to be nice and tell Gaz that this isn’t about me and Johnny, but so much more. The guy next to me sounded so sincere in wanting to help his friends that it was hard to tell him he couldn’t do anything about the situation.

“I’m not saying that either,” Gaz said, looking at me. “I don’t have the full story and you don’t have to tell me, but this is me letting you know that he hasn’t been avoiding you because he doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t know if you want to see him or if he has the right to. None of us are going to ask you to do anything, this is information so you know that he hasn’t and won’t leave you in the cold again. He’ll go at your pace.”

I was quiet, almost starting to wonder what was taking John so long. Johnny wanted to reconnect, but was too scared to? He would have to wrestle with years of lying and probably confront our parents. That wasn’t my burden to carry, that was his and from Gaz talking around it in an odd way, it seemed he understood that too.

“You’re really bad at not saying what you want to say,” I said. Gaz groaned, making me giggle.

“He doesn’t know I said anything, but I also like the guy. I also like our group and our captain. Price won’t say anything and neither will Johnny, but it seems so stupid when they could just come out with it and be done,” Gaz said with a huff, cracking me up. “You didn’t hear anything from me either.”

“My lips are sealed,” I said, miming zipping my lips shut. As the conversation went to the Bean and names and colors for the nursery, all that stuff everyone asked, John came out with a duffle bag then got back in the car. “Where are you going with that, travlin’ man?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“Your place,” he said, nodding to Gaz as he buckled up.

“My place?” I asked, scrunching my nose.

“Yeah. You’re not living alone anymore. Not till your health is better and I won’t have to lie awake at night wondering if you’ll pass out on your way for a drink of water or to the toilet,” John said as Gaz pulled onto the street without waiting for my say so.

“You’ll lie awake worrying about something else no matter what,” I said.

“That may be, but this is a very real worry,” he said. There was no room to dissuade him and just a minute later, we were already at my place. Gaz let us out and waited till we were inside to leave. “I can take the couch if you want,” John said as he locked the door behind us and began to do his nightly sweep. He always made sure the house was safe and no one had snuck in. I didn’t get it, but it made him feel better so I didn’t fuss about it.

“Why? You think you’ll get me pregnant?” I asked with a snort. “It’s a queen bed, there’s plenty of room and I’m cold anyways. You’re a fuckin’ walkin’ furnace so that will be a happy change.”

“Just don’t put your ice cube feet on mine,” he said, chuckling as he went about his patrol. With my nausea dealt with and my blood pressure calmed down, I was worn out. I could barely keep my eyes open when I climbed into bed and turned on my electric blanket.

“ ‘ey, Jo,” I called out as he changed in the bathroom.

“Yeah?” John said as he came out in his boxers and a tee shirt. I had to pause, taking in how domestic this was. We were going about things so backwards and sideways that when he came out, toothbrush in hand, it was like this had been done a million times before.

“How’d you know I might have ADHD?” I asked, sticking my feet under the warm blankets.

“Because despite what you want to be true and what he wants to be true, you and your brother are practically twins,” he said before going back to brushing his teeth. A minute later and he was climbing into bed with me. I had already arranged it for him to have his pillows and blankets and me mine, but he rearranged it all to be closer and have us share. “He has it too and I see a lot of what he struggles with being the same as what you struggle with. He doesn’t take medication for it, using other ways to handle it, but at the end of the day, you both have to overcome a lot of the same problems.”

Getting settled, he ended up wrapped around me with a leg between mine. It was honestly the most physically comfortable I had been since this all started.

“Jo?” I asked softly into the dark, the only sound coming from the rain on the roof and the oscillating fan on low.

“Mm?”

“Does. . . Does he miss me?” I asked, my voice choking up.

“He does,” John said, nuzzling the back of my neck as his large hand found my belly to rub like a worry stone or a well loved stuffy. “Love?”

“Mm?”

“Why have you been calling me Jo?”

“It’s just something I’ve always heard and done. Calling your partner Jo,” I said.

“So, are we officially partners then? Even after I’ve been calling you mine all evening?”

“Yeah, we are,” I said, giggling as he hummed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“Night Love, get some rest,” he said.

“Night, Jo,” I said, allowing myself to melt into his arms and feel safe and warm and, dare I say, loved.

Series Masterlist

<<<Previous

Next>>>

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09

#captain price #captain john price #captain price/reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #captain price/mactavish reader

35 notes · View notes

ros3ybabe · 1 year ago

Text

Daily Check-in - July 27, 2023 🎀

Today was easier than yesterday, but I am still so sleepy and tired. I have to work a full shift tomorrow AND Saturday on top of my weekend chores so I'm hoping to take Sunday as a full self care day! Fingers crossed!!

🩷 What I Ate Today:

Breakfast - One slice of toast with mashed avocado, paprika, a fried egg, and a side of watermelon, and one cup of coffee.

Lunch - ground beef burrito bowl with black beans, shredded cheese, chopped iceberg lettuce, sour cream, salsa, and a low carb tortilla.

Dinner - One plate of spaghetti with meat marinara sauce, grated parmesean cheese, and two pieces of buttered bread

Other - One cup of coffee with French vanilla creamer

Water ~ 30oz I just forgot to drink water today, but using my water bottle has gotten easier and helped me drink more during the work day.

I didn't feel like snacking much today, and I couldn't finish my lunch, but I am very satisfied with my intake today! I love eating healthier and listening to my body. I do track what I eat, but I make sure it's food I like! Given my past, I can't do restrictions, so I choose to honor my wants in a way that works towards my goals and nourishes both my mind and body.

🩷 Workout - Upper Body Pilates (ish)

This one was really good! It was my first time trying it and it had my arms burning in a good way. I really enjoyed it, and I totally recommend. This is definitely going to be a regular of mine! 10/10

This one has been a favorite for a few years, I absolutely love the way it makes my arms feel. The movements are easy and effective, and leave me sore in a good way. Absolutely my favorite lean arms workout, hands down! 11/10

🩷 Habits I Completed Today:

Made my bed

Morning & Night Skincare

Morning & Night Guided Journal

Read 1 Chapter of a book

Workout

I forgot to do my mediation and stretching, and I didn't meet my hydration goal, but I'm taking every day in stride and doing what my energy allows me to accomplish. I believe in self compassion and flexibility in routine, especially given how my energy fluctuates on a daily basis. However, I am definitely doing the full habits list tomorrow, I'm going to challenge myself to accomplish every daily goal I have for myself!

🩷 Song of The Day: Eleven - IVE

This song makes me feel like a badass princess who deserves only the highest level of princess treatment. It's hard to describe how feminine and girly this song makes me feel, even on my most tomboyish, sweaty work days. An absolute bop!!

🩷 Current Read: Atomic Habits by James Clear

Tomorrow, I can do this. I can meet my goals, all of them. It'll take some effort, but I have faith in myself. Once I get the ball rolling, it's just a matter of forward motion with accomplishing each of my goals. I can't wait!!

I also need to budget for next Saturday, as I'm going shopping for some new clothes before my university opens back up for the fall semester. If I'm gonna feel my best, I'm going to look my best too! I'm really hoping to get a few new dresses, accessories (like hair stuff, pantyhose, jelwery, purses, etc), shoes, and maybe some tops and skirts too depending on what the store has. I love shopping, so I'm super excited!!!

Til tomorrow, my lovelies!! <3

46 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years ago

Text

You're My Best Friend

☀️Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Series☀️

Bucky sighs, shaking his head, "I think you broke her."

With your fingers plugging your ears, you shake your head and loudly sing, "F is for friends who do stuff together, U is for-"

"Just answer the question!" Sam demands.

"Make new friends, but keep the old -"

"It is not that difficult! Just tell Bucky that I'm your best friend."

"You've got a friend in me -"

"Answer the question," Sam shouts over you.

You forcefully remove your fingers from your ears, "No! You can't make me."

You weren't quite sure how long had passed since this whole interrogation started. All you knew was that one second you were sitting at the table in the common room, enjoying a book you'd spent weeks trying to finish in one of the few quiet moments you got to yourself. It seemed like every time you picked up the book, there was something that needed your attention.

And then, just as you were finally settled in and finally making progress on the book , Sam and Bucky came barreling in rambling and bickering about some hypothetical situation of who you would save first should the choice come down to it.

Sam's argument was that the best friend would be saved first. To which Bucky let out a boisterous laugh and informed Sam that Bucky was your best friend.

Your book had long since been forgotten as they tried to force an answer out of you.

"Just tell him, 'Sam's my best friend. I'd save him first'," Sam implores.

"Or - or she'll tell the truth and say that she'd save me and that I'm her best friend," Bucky counters with equal fervor.

"You're the boyfriend, you can't be the best friend," Sam vehemently objects.

"Why can't I have more than one best friend?" you question, rubbing your temples in exasperation, wanting nothing more than to go back to your book.

"Because that negates being a 'best' friend."

"Guys-" you start.

"She just doesn't want to hurt your feelings," Sam interrupts with a huff. "Everyone knows I'm her best friend."

"My feelings?" Bucky scoffs. "Try again."

"Guys..." you sigh.

"You're so jealous, you know that?" Sam continues rambling. "You can't handle that-"

"Guys!" you shout over the both of them, abruptly standing from the table and snatching up your long forgotten and still unfinished book. "I love you both, alright! I love you both. Sam, you're my best friend. James, you're my person. You're both equally important in my life and equally driving me nuts right now."

"Even when she's mad, she's nice," Sam quietly mutters to Bucky.

"I know, I don't know whether to be flattered or offended," Bucky quietly agrees.

"Now, I'm going to go finish my book and you two are going to stop picking up fights over things that aren't even real," you order, spinning on your heels to storm away from the two of them. After only a few steps, you turn on your heels again, back to the two of them to finish your exasperated rant, "And you know what, if we ever were in a situation were I would have to save the both you, I'd also have to save myself because I always get roped into your terrible plans!"

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne

67 notes · View notes

bookloverdream-blessedindeed · 1 year ago

Text

“Growing Sideways” by @inadaze22

Kids, meet Gregory Goyle. He’s precious. He cooks. He bakes as a love language. He’s big enough to pick Draco up & carry him into another room and sensitive enough to talk about his friend’s feelings:

~~”The plate cracked in half.

Draco inhaled sharply, shocked from his outburst. His hands were shaking.

The laugh that escaped was hoarse. "Your plates are bloody cheap."

"These are yours." Greg went about fixing the broken dish with his wand before sitting back down. He pushed the food around his plate, not eating, only frowning while Draco's wired nerves settled. "I can't tell you how to feel, only that you should. Stop ignoring everything."

Draco finished his drink.

"I think I'll come over more," Greg announced. "You spend too much time alone."

"Hardly." Draco scoffed. "I'm always being dragged around to places I don't want to go."

Greg's expression became uncomfortably serious. "Why do you think we do it?"

"My presence is a present."

A beat passed before Greg laughed, loud and long. "Sometimes, yes, but mostly, we hate to see you like this."

"Like what? I'm—"

"Lonely."”~~~

Y’all!! Ina has done it again. 😍 Also I made the world’s tiniest toast. And beans. I made beans. I’m strutting around like Tom Hanks in Castaway announcing “I.. made BEANS” instead of fire but whatever. I made beans for a precious bean named Greg. Go read the fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/45364717?view_full_work=true

#bookloverdream blessedindeed #dramione #inadaze22 #growing sideways #gregory goyle #dramione fanart #art makes my heart happy #hpfanart

30 notes · View notes

thesweetnessofspring · 1 year ago

Note

You open the door. You see nothing. You walk a bit further to see who is there when you hear “You here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Right when you notice my eyes between brown mud, I say: Trick or Treat!

What are some autumn/Halloween activities Everlark would love to do together? (Panem or Modern, or both!)

Special request: Give me some brief drabble of them doing one of those activities :> Alternatively, tell me about a current WIP and give me a line from there :)

Well let's get this party started! 🎃 First some music:

In Panem, Everlark is certainly in the forest foraging nuts and apples and their garden is filled with pumpkin and corn. They're baking fall treats with the toast babies and cuddling up by the fire at night. They are all about the coziness of the season.

For a modern Everlark, here's a short-ish high school AU:

“What next, little duck?” I ask Prim over the din of the crowd. Her gaze catches Annie Cresta’s face, which has been painted with scales and starfish and shells, giving the senior the appearance of a mermaid, especially factoring in her long, wavy brown hair.

Prim has been staring at people with painted faces all night, and it’s eating away at me. The high school’s Harvest Festival is technically free. Each student gets 100 tickets to play games and can purchase more if they want to keep going. But this event is also an opportunity for fundraising for the school’s clubs and sports teams, so not everything is free, including the face painting. We’ve been smelling kettle corn and hot dogs all evening but not purchased any, sharing the free 100 tickets between the two of us, and passed by the chance to put Principal Coin in the dunk tank. The face painting is the one thing I catch her still wanting.

I can’t stand Prim’s silent longing and think about the $10 bill I have in my back pocket as my “just in case” money. More like just in case we get stranded and need bus money home. But it’s just one night…

“Hm, how about we go to the bean bag toss?” Prim says.

I take her hand in mine and say, “Actually, I have a surprise.”

We squeeze through the pressing crowds until I make out the blue pop-up tent with a colorfully painted sign decorated with monarch butterflies, pumpkins, princesses, and flowers reading: Face Painting

There’s a line and I plant Prim and I in it.

“Oh Katniss, are you sure?” Prim asked. Ever since our dad’s accident, our finances have been tight and spending money on something like face painting was frivolous for our family even before that happened.

“It’s the Harvest Festival,” I say. “We can have some fun.”

She gives me a hug around my waist and I squeeze her tight. Then I notice the face painters they have working right now. Two are kids who live off of 6th Street and are total stoners. I can’t remember their names. The other one, though, is only the sophomore class’s golden boy himself, Peeta Mellark.

What he’s doing here and not flirting with girls while scooping out popcorn with the rest of the football team, I don’t know. I check the signs at the booth and sure enough, this one is fundraising for the drama department. I didn’t know Peeta was even in the drama department. The football and wrestling team, sure, but drama?

I watch as Peeta dabs a sponge with red paint over a little boy’s face, smiling and chatting to him as his hands work. Then he uses a brush to create webbed lines, creating a half-Spiderman mask onto the boy’s forehead and eyes. And I’m surprised at how good he is for a high school boy.

Then Peeta turns to the line, which Prim and I are at the front of and I’m jolted like I’ve been caught staring at him. And I guess I have been, technically, only there had been something so fascinating about watching him paint. He smiles and waves us over to the seat now empty of the Spiderman.

“Hi,” Peeta says. “What are you getting done today?”

Prim’s eyes skate over the pictures hung up with examples of what they can get done. There’s a lot of Halloween stuff–cats, bats, spiders, witches, ghosts, pumpkins. Then some generic ones–superheroes, princesses, animals, mermaids.

“Are these all of the choices?” Prim asks.

“If you’re willing to take a chance I could go off-book for you,” he offers.

Prim considers this and I want to warn her of the risk of being disappointed if it doesn’t turn out, but I also don’t want to insult Peeta. His Spiderman was pretty phenomenal, so I let her make the choice without my interference.

“Can I get a dragon?” Prim asks.

“Sure thing,” Peeta says, “What color?”

Prim and Peeta talk a little about how she wants her pink dragon done and then as Peeta starts working on her face, discuss Prim’s most recent obsession–dragon books. The library is one of the few places we can go now and have stuff to do without worrying about money and she’s been eating up everything she can read with dragons. Peeta patiently listens as she describes her most recent read, a little dent between his eyebrows as he concentrates on the sweeping details of Prim’s dragon face painting.

“There you go,” Peeta says, handing her a mirror.

“Oh! It’s like it’s going to fly off of my face!” Prim laughs. I peek over her shoulder to get a look and while it’s not that realistic, the wings that spread over Prim’s eyes and the dragon head with silver horns on her forehead, the ribbed body and tail down her nose, are a true work of art. I feel bad it’s going to get washed away.

“Glad you like it,” Peeta says. Then he turns to me and asks, “Did you want one, too, Katniss?”

I shouldn’t be surprised he knows my name–we’ve been in enough classes together over the past ten years–but I can’t remember a time he’s used it before.

“We’re only getting the one,” I say and reach my hand out with the $10 bill.

“I can make it a sister special, two for one,” Peeta says.

I bristle and give my hand a jerk to insist he take the money. “We don’t need any charity, thanks.”

“Katniss,” Prim admonishes. She’s always the polite one and that’s why I have to be the protective one, to make sure she doesn’t get taken advantage of.

“No, no, it’s just…uh…my ex is the next in line and I…it’s a little awkward right now,” he says, giving me a sheepish smile. “You’d really be helping me out if you stayed so she got Jason or Gianna instead.”

I know who he’s talking about, but I peek out the corner of my eye to make sure. Glimmer Erikson. They’d started dating over summer apparently, something about concurrent football and cheerleader practices bringing them together. A big upset happened two weeks ago at homecoming when he broke up with her at the dance. I’d overhead some other kids talking that Glimmer had been ready to pick a fight with Clove Sanchez for grinding up on Glimmer’s ex Cato, and she ended up punching Peeta when he tried to stop her from getting physical.

And I don’t know why I know any of this, but I feel some sort of strange need to protect Peeta right now, more than my own pride. I sit down and take Prim’s spot on the chair directly in front of Peeta. He gives me a relieved smile and asks, “So, what do you want?”

“Oh, um…” I look at all of the options, but none of them really feel like me. Princesses? Superheroes? Pumpkins? I look to Prim, but even she’s stumped, the dragon’s wings on her face compressing as she squints her eyes to consider the options.

“I can go off-book for you, too,” Peeta says.

And I know from Prim’s face he’s more than capable. I shrug. “I don’t know what I want. Maybe…surprise me?”

“Really?” he brightens up at my invitation.

“Sure,” I say, then amend, “Just no cats. I get that enough with my name.”

He laughs. “Don’t have to explain that to me.”

I give him an unexpected smile. Peeta, the baker’s son. Yes, he would certainly understand.

He gives his head a little tilt, scanning my face, and then picks up a sponge with orange face paint and lightly dabs it over my cheeks and nose.

“How’d you end up doing this?” I ask. “Aren’t you on the football team?”

“I paint the sets for the drama department,” Peeta says. “And they need the help more than the football team anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t know…” I say. “Did you do those mountains for The Sound of Music last spring?”

I hadn’t gone to the show, but the backdrops were up on the stage for months while we had a million anti-drug, anti-bullying, anti-drinking-and-driving assemblies to sit through. I’d ended up staring at those backdrops to keep some kind of sanity, imagining myself hiking along them with the trees and the fresh breeze.

“I helped. Jason and Gianna worked on it, too,” he says and switches over to a brush, dipping it in brown paint and lightly brushing it along my temple. “We’re doing Beauty and the Beast in the spring this year. You should audition.”

“What?” I ask. I had to work a part-time job at Subway after school. I didn’t have time to dance around a stage.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he says. “In elementary school, when we had those music classes? You always sang so much better than everyone else. I think even the birds outside stopped to listen to you.”

He remembers that, so long ago?

“He is right,” Prim says. “You would be the perfect Belle.”

I scoff. “Too bad I’m a terrible actor.”

“It’s a high school show,” Peeta says. “Trust me, if you don’t make the audience’s ears bleed they’ll take you.”

I don’t pursue this path of the conversation further, feeling ganged up on with Prim and Peeta trying to get me into the drama department. Instead I take notice of Peeta’s large hands with the delicate little brush, focusing on one part of my face and then another while he dabbles on reds and yellows and oranges and browns. I have no idea what he’s putting on my face, but even without Prim standing there watching him work, I trust that he’s not going to do anything to embarrass me like some other boys would have done.

“Finished,” Peeta says and hands me the mirror. I let out a little gasp. Along the left side of my face he’s painted a tree trunk with its branches extending out along my forehead, dappled with autumn leaves on the branches and down below along my cheekbones and nose that were lightly dusted with a misty orange as the backdrop for the leaves. It’s not the garish, intense painting of the provided options, but a soft, delicate work worthy of its own frame.

“Like it?” he asks, a little cocky. It’s clear that I’m in awe of it.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Well anytime you want a facepaint,” he says, “I don’t charge friends.”

Friends? I wonder. But I don’t have time to think of it as the next person is coming up behind my chair. I give Peeta the $10 and get pulled back into the crowd of the Harvest Festival with Prim. We take a dozen pictures of our facepaint together and, when Prim insists, separately. And even though we have the memory preserved, I can’t stand to wash it off that night, carefully laying on my back before falling asleep so I can see it again in the morning.

Katniss's face paint inspo:

#thg trick or treat #thg trick or treat 23 #everlark drabble #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction

23 notes · View notes