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tomtenadia · 1 year

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Second chances...

I don’t even remember how the idea of this fic came to more, but it’s a second chance Rowaelin. It was meant to be a short one shot... it turned out a monster of almost 6k words... and a bit of a rollercoaster. There is angst, but well.. as the title says...

CW: divorce, some hurt/comfort and a brief mention of a death (non MC I promise) I hope you will enjoy it.

Aelin walked around the living room collecting her stuff for work “Maya, are you ready? We need to go.” “I am coming, I am looking for my hockey bag.”

Aelin went to her daughter’s room and helped her find the bag. Maya was in a girls hockey team “Here it is. You are just as messy as me.”

Maya kissed her mother “thanks.”

The two left the house and went to the car “you got all your stuff at your dad’s?”

Maya nodded.

Aelin and Rowan were divorced. They had married at a very young age after they found out taht Aelin was pregnant. Rowan being the responsible one had offered to provide for her and thought that marriage was the best option. But they were young, Rowan twenty one and Aelin nineteen and the weight of responsibilities started to take a toll on them pretty quickly affecting as well their relationship. With the passing of time they came to the realisation that they had married for the wrong reason and slowly drifted apart, after each fight spread the abysm separating them even further. Until it was too much and the word divorce was mentioned. They agreed it was the best option especially for their daughter’s sake. So as little as two years later they had gone separate ways. Custody had been easy had agreed on sharing Maya equally.

And so they moved on with their lives, leaving behind that small parenthesis when they tried to be a family.

Aelin went to become a paediatric doctor whereas Rowan got hired by an engineering company and was now quite high in the company. They would see each other at school meeting or Maya’s games, but outside those engagements their interactions were minimal.

Maya knew better, though. When her parents were together she had studied their interactions. She saw them alone and together and only when they were with each other she could see happiness.

She was twelve and probably did not know much about love, but of one thing was sure, her parents, despite their stubbornness, still loved each other.

Her mission now, was to get her parents back together. Be a family again.

They eventually reached the school and Aelin leaned over to kiss her daughter “Dad will pick you up at practice tonight.”

Maya grabbed her stuff “Ok.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, mum.”

Maya left the car and Aelin watched her enter the school and sighed. A part of her hated when it was Rowan’s turn. A whole week without her daughter. She missed her and the house felt empty.

Rowan though, had the same right as her. And while she had been terrified when she discovered she was pregnant, he had been her rock. He held her and spent the afternoon whispering it’s all going to be okay over and over again. Tears threatened to spill. Absentmindedly she touched the necklace and brushed the ring that hung from it. It was her wedding ring. She had removed it from her finger but always carried it with her. She kept telling herself that they had done the right thing, that Maya’s welfare was the outmost important thing… but it was hard and sometimes she wondered whether it really had been the wisest choice.

She sighed once more and eventually drove to work.

Rowan had left work a bit early and arrived at the ice rink well before practice finished. He loved watching his daughter play even though it brought back memories of an alternate life from long ago. Maya was a forward and was actually really good at it. Both he and Aelin were big hockey fans and slowly had passed the passion onto her and when she was older and had begged her parents to join a team they had agreed to let her do it. He watched his daughter glide on the ice with incredible skill, pass the defence and score a goal. He whooped loudly, pride bursting out of him.

It was an hour later when they were back home, Maya had gone to get showered and changed and he was busy making dinner when she joined him in the kitchen “I am making mac and cheese tonight, I think you deserve it.”

Maya grinned and sat on the table “dad, I invited mum to Saturday’s game, it’s a big one and I want her there.”

Rowan turned “of course. She can always come.”

Maya nodded and accepted her plate with food and geared up for the question that she had been burning to ask for a while now. She stuffed her face with her dad’s amazing food then paused “Dad, why you and mum don’t live together like all the other parents?”

Rowan stared at his daughter with the fork half way to his mouth. They had sort of explained the situation to Maya when she was younger, but he was aware that she was growing up and that soon they’d have to explain to her what happened in more details. He knew Maya would have questions soon. It seemed that the moment was that evening and Rowan froze. Aelin should be there too because they had agreed to have the conversation with both of them present, to offer Maya a full picture. They had separated peacefully and both tried very hard never to complain about the other parent.

He placed the fork down and gathered his courage “Maya, your mum and I got married very young after we found out we were expecting you,” he started to explain. He wanted to make sure that Maya did not feel like she was the cause of their problems “We were so young and at the time we thought marriage was the answer, but then things got hard, we fought a lot, so we decided that it was better, for you, if we split up. Making sure you were happy was our priority.”

Maya was silent and Rowan worried.

“Do you still love mum?”

The question blindsided him. He just remained silent gathering his thoughts on something he had been pondering on for a while. Lately he and Aelin had been interacting more, exchanging texts even outside the normal communications. If something happened to him he realised that Aelin had become once more the first person he wanted to tell. But it was complicated. Then he sighed and thought about his wedding ring hiding in the coins compartment of his wallet. How could explain to her that a part of him regretted divorcing her mother and giving up so easily? But Maya had been their priority and they did not want her to grow up in a household with parents fighting all the time.

“Maya it’s complicated.”

His daughter stood abruptly and in her green eyes he saw her mother fierceness. She had hair as silver as his and the same green eyes, but his daughter was as fierce and strong as her mother “no it’s not. It’s a simple yes or no question.” Her voice rose a few notches “Hellas dad, do you think I am stupid? Do you really think I did not notice that all of a sudden you two are hanging out a lot more and that you find every excuse to be near her? Or the fact that you only really smile when you are with her? You stop being a grouch only with mum or me,” she blurted out. If they were too stupid to realise they were still in love, she was going to open their eyes “and do we want to talk about the fact that you still carry your wedding ring in your wallet? Sure but keep lying to yourself that you are not still in love with mum.”

“Maya, you are twelve, what do you know about love?”

Maya straightened her back “I might be twelve and young, but I can see that my parents are living a lie. Neither of you had a lasting relationship, a few dates and then stopped. Mum hasn’t dated in years and you too. Again, I might be young but I am not stupid.” And with that she stormed out of the door and Rowan heard her slam the door of her room.

He sat at the table speechless, definitely not expecting such a reaction from her. Maybe Maya was right… slowly he placed the food away. All of a sudden he wasn’t hungry anymore.

The day of the game eventually arrived and Rowan drove Maya to the ice rink. It was a home game against Perranth that was probably going to seal the championship and Maya’s team was in the lead. To great disappointment of Elide who was a crazy Perranth supporter.

He walked up the steps and reached his assigned seat. Aelin arrived ten minutes later and landed at his side while carrying a cup with coke and a box with nachos. He smiled. Aelin would never be at a hockey game without her portion of junk food.

“Still inhaling calories?”

“Sorry, Rowan, they finished the carrots.”

He laughed at their banter. Something that even after a decade had never left them.

In revenge he stole one of her nacho chips and Aelin turned to him outraged. Rowan roared with laughter at her expression. In that instant Maya’s words popped in his head. Aelin really was the only person who could make him laugh that freely. He hadn’t realised it until his twelve years old daughter pointed it out to him. After their fight they had a tense day, but Maya then dropped the subject and he was relieved. His emotion in too much turmoil to make sense of them.

“Uhm, Maya’s birthday is very soon. Can we do it at your place? You are the one with the garden and we want to invite a few friends.”

“Oh good, I wanted to ask you about that. My place is fine. You two ladies organise it and I will make sure the garden is all ready.”

“Thanks Ro, she is excited.”

He was about to reply but the horn sounded loudly and marked the start of the match.

The game finished with a victory for Orynth. Maya had scored three of the four goals and both Aelin and Rowan had been very proud parents and cheered loudly during the entire game. Now they were outside and were waiting for Maya to join them.

Their daughter arrived a good forty minutes later and Aelin ran to her and kissed her, shouting champions with deep pride. That game had sealed the championship and they had been crowned the winners for that season. They still had two games to go, but the victory was now sealed.

Aelin had the team’s jersey and the baseball cap and on top of that she had painted her cheeks in green and silver, the colours of the team. Rowan had just worn his jersey.

“Maya and I are going home…” he said quietly. Then took a deep breath “wanna join us for dinner? We can celebrate together.”

“Please, mum, please, please.”

Aelin stared at her daughter and did not have the courage to tell her that it was not a great idea.

“Of course, my love.” What could be the danger in it?”

Once outride the house Aelin paused for a second. Rowan lived in a big detached house. He had done well, they both had, but Rowan recently had been given a huge promotion and suddenly he was on really big bucks. She chuckled thinking about the small one bedroom flat they had rented after high school. At the time it was all they could afford with part time jobs and some help from their parents. She wondered where they would be if they had stayed together.

“You coming?” Maya’s question woke her up from her thoughts.

She stepped inside the house and joined him in the living room while Maya ran to her room to stash away her gear.

“I can see that the books are going wild now.”

“Maya’s mostly. She is just as obsessed as you and I will need to buy a new house soon just for her books,” he confessed with a fond smile “I am building her a library for her birthday and running out of ideas to keep it secret.”

Aelin looked at him and all of a sudden wanted to hug him. Of one thing she was certain: Rowan’s devotion to his daughter was never questioned. The judge had initially given full custody to her, but Aelin had asked to share it. She knew from day one that Rowan would have made a wonderful dad and she was not going to take that from him.

“That will be an amazing present, now my unicorn will look positively plebeian.” She joked, walking to the kitchen with him “I got her a meet and greet with her favourite hockey player at the next home game for the Stags. I had to grovel a bit with one of my colleague who has connection in the league and it costed me three weekends in a row as paediatrician on call at the A&E but she is worth it.”

Rowan moved towards the kitchen counter “she is. She is definitely not one of my regrets.”

Aelin was stunned and just stood there on the threshold “I assume I am your biggest regrets.” It was not meant to sound that harsh, but the words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

Rowan turned to her, his face sad all of a sudden “that is not what I meant.”

She scoffed “Sure, promising hockey player turns down an offer to play professional to spend time with his pregnant girlfriend.” Since high school had been a promising hockey player and once he graduated he had received an amazing offer from the Stags to join their team as a rookie. Two weeks later she had destroyed that dream by announcing that she was pregnant. Rowan had turned down the offer and two months later he proposed.

“Did I ever complain? I gave up my career willingly. You and our daughter were more important.”

“You were miserable,” she said through gritted teeth “I heard you complain to Lorcan that you hated your life.” She paused, “I was in the living room nursing Maya and I heard you. That night I almost left you.”

Rowan stared at Aelin in silence. He vaguely remembered that night. He had been exhausted and frustrated. “I had two jobs and both were horrible but paid the bills and rent and kept us fed.”

Aelin looked away“You could have been playing with the Stags as regular player by now. Be a star, have all the glory and women flocking to you.”

“It was my choice,” he shouted “Stop putting in my mouth words I never said. You and Maya were the only good thing in my life…”

Aelin grabbed her bag “I need to go.” Her voice broken by deep grief.

“Sure Aelin, run away…”

“Fuck you, Whitethorn,” she made a turn then stopped “tell Maya I love her and that I will see her for her birthday.”

Rowan stared at Aelin disappear through the door. When he lifted his eyes he spotted Maya on the doorstep. Her eyes red from crying.

They were too busy shouting at each other to realise she had been eavesdropping. They had promised to shield Maya from their disagreements. But as he stared at his daughter’s brokenhearted expression, he realised that for the first time in twelve years they had failed her.

Fuck.

Aelin sat in her car and let the tears flow. She cried until she was spent then drove to the one person that could offer her comfort and wisdom: her mother.

The drive took a good forty minutes and now she was standing in front of her childhood home.

A knock on the door and Evalin appeared a moment later “Aelin, my love.”

Aelin landed in her mother’s arms and let the tears come back. In Evalin’s arms she sobbed hard and let free all the frustration and pain in her heart.

Evalin guided her to the sofa and the two sat together “What happened?”

“I had a fight with Rowan.”

Evalin sighed and hugged her daughter.

“What was the fight about?”

“I think he still resents me for being the reason why he had to abandon his career as professional hockey player,” she confessed “he says no, but I know him. A part of him wishes he had chosen hockey over us.”

A deep sigh left Evalin. She had met Rowan after the confession tah Aelin was pregnant and never met a more dedicated and responsible twenty one years old. He had gone looking for a job right away, had asked for help in looking for a flat. He had taken in his stride his new role as a father from the very beginning. Not once had Evalin seen an ounce of regret in his face.

“What did he say?”

“That Maya was definitely not one of his regrets,” a loud sob “I am one of them, probably the biggest one. He regrets meeting me,” she hugged her mother tight “I bet he wishes he never asked me out.”

Evalin brushed her daughter’s head “You don’t know that. You don’t know what his hockey career would have brought him. Sports glory is not eternal. He might have ended up miserable. Now he is a very successful man, you both are…”

Her daughter shook her head stubbornly.

“Aelin…” Evalin’s finger lifted her chin and blue eyes met their copy “are you still in love with him?” She had suspected for a while, but the occasion to ask had never presented itself. Now it was the perfect time. For a long time Aelin was not much fussed about Rowan, but recently sje had seen changes in her daughter.

“No…” but as soon as the word left her mouth she hid her face in the crook of her mother’s neck.

“Do you want my real opinion of the sugarcoated version?”

“Real.”

Evalin pulled back and stared at her daughter in her eyes “You both gave up too easily.”

Aelin was silent at the confession.

“As soon as it got too hard, you just called it quits and got a divorce. You took the coward way out instead of fighting for your marriage.”

Aelin sighed “What marriage? We fought so much… that was not love… it was just to cover a mistake.”

“Your daughter was not a mistake,” Evalin’s tone had gone harsh all of a sudden. She adored her granddaughter. Early pregnancy or not Maya was the joy in her grandparents’ lives.

Heavy sobs shook Aelin’s body.

Evalin sighed once more “Aelin, darling, I have been married to your father for over forty years,” she started, grabbing Aelin’s hand in hers in an attempt to calm her “Some days I would gladly strangle him or when he really pisses me off I imagine creative ways to dispose of his body,” a chuckle left her lips “I crave the evenings, like tonight, when he has his meeting with his friends, so I can have a me night.” a pause to let the words sink in “but I love him just as much as when we started dating. Forty odd years with that grump and I would not have it any other way.”

Aelin was about to add something but Evalin stopped her “We fight, all couples do. There is no such thing as the perfect marriage, Aelin. But we do our best to overcome our problems and disagreements and avoid going to bed mad at each other.”

Aelin stood silent.

“You and Rowan did not fight for each other. And Rowan’s parents think the same.”

Aelin’s hand went to her necklace, feeling the presence of the ring under the fabric.

“Do you still love him?” Evalin asked once more.

Aelin did not answer and her mother shook her head, having her final answer “you need to tell him. You and Rowan need to have a chat.”

“He has long moved on.”

“Not according to what Maya has told me.”

Evalin smiled at the surprise in Aelin’s face.

“Oh yes, your daughter has been talking a lot with me and her other grandma. Last time he dated was a few years back and on that occasion it did not go past the first date.”

“There is no future for us. That door closed on the day we signed the divorce papers.”

Evalin took a deep sigh and pulled Aelin to her “Only death is permanent.” A caress on her face “You read a lot of romance novels. Ever heard about second chance romance?”

Aelin nodded weakly.

“You and Rowan can have it. You deserve it and Maya does it too.”

Blue eyes met her copy “how? Where do I start? I want…” another sob “I dated but no one was ever like him. He is my home…”

A huge grin spread on Evalin’s face. She had known that Aelin was still in love. Now with Maya’s help she had to push them to talk.

Aelin that night went home and once in bed composed a text message: I am sorry.

I’d never regret choosing you and Maya.

Saturday finally arrived and Rowan was nervous. After the text message a few nights before he had no other contact with Aelin. Maya had told him that her mum was definitely coming. He needed a moment with her, wanted to talk. Maya was right. Truth was, he never stopped caring about Aelin. She was his home. She was still the first person he texted after a hockey game to discuss the results.

Rowan had gone and had a chat with his parents and found out that they believed they had given up too easily. His dad told him that he should have convinced Aelin to try and overcome the problems together. He had been thinking about that conversation for a few days now. He had to talk to Aelin.

Rowan was so deep in his musings when Maya joined him in the kitchen “is my cake nice and full of chocolate?”

“It definitely meet yours and your mother’s standards.”

“She needs it.”

Rowan’s ears perked up “is she okay?”

Maya grinned internally at her father’s need to fuss “She is fine. She has just been working a lot and now for some reason she has three weekend shifts in a row in the A&E. She hasn’t done that in a long time.”

He smiled. He knew that Aelin had offered to cover the emergency room in exchange of Maya’s special present.

“Maybe they are short of doctors?”

Maya shrugged “Will you be nice to her? She is tired. No stress. It’s my birthday, I want my family all together happy.”

He pulled her to his chest “I don’t want to hurt her or you,” Maya hugged her father tight and could sense the pain in his words. He cared, he still did and had decided that he was going to make an effort to give his daughter another gift. A chance to have her family again.

Aelin was late. All the guests had arrived but she was not there yet. He kept checking his phone for a message but nothing. Fear started to grow in him that she had decided to bail. He looked at Maya and she shook her head. No news.

It was almost an hour later when the doorbell rang and he ran to the door like a desperate man.

He flung the door open and in front of him stood an Aelin who looked like a wreck. Instinct screamed at him to hug her but he restrained himself.

“Sorry I am late,” her flat tone was a shot through his heart. “A&E was hell tonight…”

“Come Ae, we have plenty of chocolate.”

She gave him a tight smile and followed him inside. Maya was in her arms a second later “You made it.”

“Sorry, darling… work was bad.”

The rest of the group welcomed her and Rowan announced that it was finally present time. He wanted to keep his for last. He had been working on it for a while. The room had been locked and he had told Maya that he was working on it and it was a mess and did not want her to go inside. Aelin gave her daughter her present after all their friends. Maya had screamed at the signed jersey and at the pass for two for the meet and greet. Seeing her daughter that happy washed away a bad shift at the hospital. Soon after Rowan took her to the door that had been locked for weeks. When he opened the door Maya gasped. The room was a library. Bookcases covered the walls, and they were quite full of her books. That’s where her father had stashed them. He hadn’t placed them in the attic while he worked on the living room.

“Dad…”

“This is yours Maya, a library, I made it for you. Happy birthday, baby.”

Maya was crying and hugging her father fiercely “I love you, dad.”

It was later on when all the guests had gone and the house tidied up that Rowan went looking for Aelin. Lysandra and Elide had helped him tidy up and had told her to stay in the living room and relax. Aelin though, was not where he expected her. He walked around the house until he noticed the door of the library slightly ajar. He took a step inside and found Aelin standing and looking at the books.

He stared at her in silence. Aelin was stunning. She was the most beautiful woman he had set eyes on. He had tried to forget her with other women, but no one ever made him feel like her. She was his soulmate and he had been an idiot to even think that she could be replaced. It had taken him ten years and his daughter to realise his mistake.

“Rowan?”

He shook his head at the sound of her voice. Aelin was looking at him and her eyes were puffy.

“Aelin…” he moved a step to her and that’s when she crashed into his arms. On instinct he hugged her and the feeling of her body against to his was like coming home after a long trip.

“Are you okay?”

In his arms she started crying and he held her tighter “I lost two kids tonight….” Her sobs intensified “a hit and run. They were on their bikes and someone just drove into them…” when she started shaking he moved a hand on her back, caressing gently while the other went to her head, stroking her hair in an attempt of comfort.

He always hated when Aelin was hurting. It made him physically sick.

“I love you…” he whispered very softly not afraid anymore of the truth that had been now clear as daylight “ I never stopped…” Aelin looked up and stared in his pine green eyes in disbelief “I have one big regret.”

She tried to pull back but he kept her close “I regret that I ever let you go, that I gave up easily when things got hard.” With the back of his hand he caressed her face while his thumb wiped her tears “it took a chat with our daughter to realise that I am still in love with you.”

Aelin stared at him stunned for what felt like an eternity “I… I tried to convince myself that you resented me because it was easier. It allowed me to keep my distance and ignore my feelings.” Her hand went to her neck and pulled out the necklace and showed him her wedding ring “I wear it all the time. You are always with me.”

Rowan chuckled and extracted his wallet from his back pocket. He opened the little compartments for the coins and extracted a silver band identical to Aelin’s.

“I want to try… I want our second chance…” she whispered while searching his gaze and the smile he gave her was the most stunning vision she ever saw. And when he nodded Aelin’s fears left her.

“Mala save me I missed you…” he grabbed her and pulled Aelin at his chest. She looked up at him through her blurred vision and then buried her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled the scent of pine and snow that always made her feel at home.

Rowan had not realised how truly he had missed until she was in his arms once more. But never again. And when he looked down once againit was to slant his mouth on hers. His souls sang at the contact, recognising the part that had gone missing for too long. He kissed her and all the pieces fell back into place. He was complete once more.

Maya had gone downstairs to get some water when she heard voices in the library. Silently she flattened against the wall and listened. It was her parents and they were talking.

And when she heard her dad tell Aelin he loved her, Maya had to try very hard not to squeal. She knew it and took pride in having opened his eyes to his stupidity.

She stood and listened and when she peeked inside and saw them kissing she started crying in happiness.

6 months later.

While Maya was getting ready for the wedding she took a moment to think about the whirlwind that the previous six months had been. After the evening in the library, her parents had spent countless nights talking and dealing with the past. She knew they wanted to get everything out and not leave anything that might jeopardise the relationship again. She had given them space. A few times had organised a sleepover at Aidan’s and auntie Lys had been delighted in playing a part in getting her parents back together.

Until one night they took her aside and asked her if she was okay with Aelin moving to Rowan’s house. They had explained her that they finally were ready for their new life together. To be a family again. Maya had screamed in delight. Three months later Rowan proposed in their back garden that she had helped to decorate.

And now the big day had finally arrived and she was excited. They had gone for a very low key ceremony in their back garden and Alistair, her grandfather was going to officiate. Rhoe was going to walk Aelin down the aisle and she had been appointed maid of honour with auntie Lysandra and Elide as bridesmaid.

She walked down the grass and stopped to take her position and face her dad. He looked stunning and happy. Since he an her mum had reconciled, not a day has passed when he wasn’t smiling, or humming while cooking. They were both two brand new people. They had only needed a little push to finally face what had been in front of them.

Classical music filled the air and Aelin finally appeared at Rhoe’s arm. Maya did not miss the light in Rowan’s eyes when he saw her.

Aelin stopped in front of him and her father in law took the stage.

“Thank you every one for being here today at my son and Aelin’s wedding,” he started, scanning the crowd “Life doesn’t always offer second chances, but if you are offered one you better take it. Rowan and Aelin have chosen their family and today they are here, in front of us, to rekindle the promise that they had exchanged thirteen years ago.”

Alistair nodded and Rowan took Aelin’s hand “Fireheart, fate has allowed me to get to marry my soulmate a second time. I am a lucky man and I will treasure forever this moment. I also don’t want to spend another day apart from you,” he grabbed her hand “You and Maya are my dream, my perfect life and my everything. I love you. To whatever end.”

He heard Aelin sniffle and squeezed his hand in return “My buzzard, you entered my life on tip toes and slowly became a part of my own soul. For ten years I wandered in search for answers and a way to deal wit the past and the hole you left in my life.” She paused and looked at Maya “turns out our daughter was the key,” Aelin extended her hand and invited the girl to join them “I love you Rowan, there’s no way without you.”

Maya squealed and kissed her mum.

Alistair smiled at his granddaughter, then looked at Lorcan and took the rings. The same ones they used in their first marriage and never abandoned. They had just asked a jeweller to change the dates inside, but had wanted to keep the originals.

Rowan grabbed Aelin’s ring “Aelin with this ring I promise you to cherish you, to walk the path of life at your side. In health, in sickness, through bad and good days, to fight for us, until death do us part.” He placed the ring and Aelin got ready to do the same “Rowan, with this ring, accept my promise to share my life with you for good and for worse, through illness and health, to hold your hand in this journey together, till death do us part.”

Aelin placed the ring on his finger and stared in his eyes glistening with joy.

Maya grabbed both of her parents’ hands and turned to her grampa.

“Friends, family, please join me in sharing our love for Aelin and Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius. I wish you all the happiness in the universe.” He patted Rowan’s shoulder “now come on, you have my permission to kiss her.”

Rowan’s arms sneaked behind her back and pulled her to his chest and kissed with all the love he had for the woman in his arms.

Later on, during a break in the festivities Aelin grabbed her husband and pulled him aside.

“Aelin, I don’t think this is the right time for a quickie.”

Her finger landed on his lips “you are insatiable.”

Rowan moved even closer “I have ten years to make up for.”

She giggled but pushed him back gently “I have something to tell you….”

He looked at his wife with a mix of nervousness “if you have changed your mind it’s too late.”

Aelin kissed him “No, I love you and being married to you feels right,” her hands carded in his long hair “I am pregnant, Rowan.”

The happiness that spread on his face was the most beautiful and precious sight.

“For real?”

Aelin nodded.

“I love you,” his hand landed on her still flat belly.

Rowan held his wife in his arms and together they slow danced at the sound of the music in the background.

No more fears, no more running. They were a family now.

He hugged Aelin closer and while inhaling the lavender scent of her hair he considered himself the luckiest man alive. He had a second chance, and with it the love of his life in his arms.

TAGS:

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#rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin kids #fluff #rowaelin angst #rowaelin fluff #aelin galathynius #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowan x aelin

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engineering-myself · 5 months

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God the last 48 hours has been CRAZY. The asshole employee had me stressing hard because the department was at the point of "it's your choice, but you should probably fire him". So I was trying to set that in motion not knowing ANYTHING about how to do that properly, and after reaching out to HR and having them also agree that I should move towards terminating him, he sent me a snarky "I quit, good luck!" message instead. It was both a relief and extremely frustrating at the same time.

So anyway, the whole department yesterday is congratulating me because he's gone and they're telling me stuff like "of course he didn't work out, look who hired him" (meaning the lazy, asshole predecessor to my lab), but I'm just feeling increasingly anxious because the kid had replied to the acceptance of resignation email saying that the lab environment is "intolerable" and that he'll be providing a lengthy explanation of his reasons for leaving. It's stressful that someone is going to such extreme lengths to make me look bad, including (as I found out late on Thursday) repeatedly complaining about me to my boss the entire I've been there.

It also doesn't make sense to me because I found the kid's general attitude and demeanor so unpleasant that I was actively avoiding him. So like, how could my presence be making the lab intolerable when I'm not talking to the kid unless absolutely necessary?? A third party observer to this entire shit show commented that his absence isn't even going to be a big deal because he doesn't actually help teach students like he's supposed to, he was always off doing his own thing and only helped out if a person sought him out. The perspective really added to my confusion of his "intolerable" statement because clearly other people also saw him essentially being allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted anyway because I didn't feel like confronting him about every little thing.

I should just take the win and move on, but I'm humming with anxiety. It really did work out for the best - the kid quit, the department chair and other professors are not only on my side but glad about it, and I don't have to continue to navigate this tenuous management situation anymore. I guess I just feel like I didn't handle the "confrontation" that led to his resignation properly. I keep picking myself apart for the way I handled the dispute, and I'm feeling quite a bit of pressure to work on my ability to handle confrontation properly after this. (I mean, I already was feeling pressure to figure this out and I've been seeing a therapist with that goal in mind, but I don't think we've spent enough time on strategies to help me in the moment - it's kinda been like when you think of the right thing to say wayyy after it's over).

And Nic has been quick to point out all along that I DO know how to have an argument - he teases me that I can be super intimidating when we argue because I'm "like a lawyer". And that's maybe what's been the MOST frustrating about this whole situation and my life in general. I know damn well how to have a fight and speak my mind clearly, but I freeze up and/or lose my cool in the moment outside of confronting a handful of people.

#personal

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ashthehermit · 1 year

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Legends of Tomorrow: A Retrospective 1.8

After a few episodes of no Savage, the gang are back on his tail again. This time, they're going to mess with the timeline even more by going back to before he met them. The fifties is the earliest that Legends has yet spent any real time. I did not realise how little the early episodes were willing to dress the legends up in silly outfits and have them jaunt around the past. I suppose I have to wait until the Wild West for that.

NIGHT OF THE HAWK

We begin with a sort of investigation style story. Legends haven't done many of these yet, as up until now Rip has provided all the necessary information. There's a slasher on the loose and by gum, Savage has probably got something to do with it. Ray and Kendra jump at the chance to be a married couple to investigate. The realtor is immediately racist. There's a doctor who is a misogynist to Sara too. Legends takes the route of not ignoring intolerance in the past. It can go either way. Doctor Who often let it slide, depending on what the plot demanded for the moment. Martha faced racism in the 1900s while pretending to be a maid. Bill, while on adventures with the Twelfth Doctor, pointed out that she might stand out in Regency London. The Doctor points out that the past is more diverse than she has been told.

Legends took the decision early on to not ignore this kind of stuff, although they were not always perfect in the execution. This being the fifties, Stein is nostalgiac, while Jax and Sara aren't convinced. They spend time in a diner that serves milkshakes, just to get the aesthetic right. I'm not mad at it. Legends plays with people's ideas of the time periods it visits, rather than the reality of them. That's a sentiment I'll allow.

'Why don't you do yourself a favour, Biff? Keep walking.'

Jax meets a cute girl called Betty, who has a ponytail. Was Riverdale airing yet? Spiritually it's here. Ray and Kendra play house. Their relationship moves fast because of the pretend marriage, which Kendra does point out. Sara saves a girl from the unwelcome attentions of a doctor. There are instant sparks. Stein is way too comfortable giving orders to Sara, but she messes with him anyway.

Then - twist of twists - Savage turns up to Kendra's door. He's married in 1958 and living that Wandavision life. It's very tense. He brings a tuna surprise, which Ray later eats while everyone else is talking. I thought that was adorable.

It's a nice change. The gang think they have the drop on Savage for the moment. Savage doesn't realise that they are time travellers - and why would he? There's enough time for Sara to have a drink with her new nurse friend. Savage seems to be keeping people that have turned into beasties in his asylum. This story is reference laden, but not in a way that holds it back, as with the previous tale. Jax doesn't reference Back to the Future for nothing. There's a paranormal aspect to it that isn't unfamiliar (with the aforementioned beasties). The gang all appear to be in different genres. Jax is in a teen romance of some kind. Rip and Snart are detectives. Stein and Sara are in a One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest spin off. Ray and Kendra are in some suburban horror. It isn't as shoved in your face as the Star Trek references, because there's enough going on to keep up with, and the whole thing is centred around a mystery. As it is, it's more engaging than the other recent episodes I've watched.

There's real tension here. Jax and Betty are attacked by the beasties, and Jax is stopped by a cop while trying to get an injured Betty to safety. The tension ebbs a little when Jax points out that he is a black guy with an injured white girl, but it's there, and it's not a situation that he can punch his way out of either. It's not perfect action. It's better than what I have been looking at so far. Perhaps it's because Rip and Snart are wearing funny hats in every scene.

'What of your square-jawed husband, Raymond?'

Kendra decides to go against Savage alone. Ray doesn't love the idea. The tension is a bit manufactured there. Ray hasn't been overprotective thus far. If anything, he's been the reckless one.

Turns out that Savage is working with the police, and he's about to experiment on Jax! Yikes. He gets turned into a beastie. Poor Jax. Don't worry. It'll all be resolved far too quickly. The whole thing is set up to resolve a conflict between Jax and Snart, which is pretty forced, as Jax is the only one angry that Rory is supposedly dead. No one else gives a damn.

Kendra puts on a VERY sexy dress to seduce Savage. This show hardly has sound period costuming. It never will. At the very least, in later seasons it will become more fun (think Wally in the Wild West). This scene is very uncomfortable. It's not portrayed as uncomfortable as it could be. But I am very uncomfortable. It's perhaps a bit too throwaway. This series isn't equipped for dealing with this content. It's better at the 'accepting of outcasts' content it usually goes for. The later series are better at this outcast storyline. Frankly, it's also because the cast gets more diverse as we go on. Right now, most of these guys would be able to exist unimpeded in their own timeline. As we go on, that will get less true. This is Legends' first outing into this kind of story. I've said it before, but it's never that nuanced. An explicit story has value too, though, I should note.

Everything gets resolved anyway. Sara gets to make it up to her new fling. Ray gets to apologise to Kendra. Jax is miraculously fine and somehow purchases a car for Betty. Then Kronos attacks. He's incredibly serendipitous. The Waverider takes off and leaves Sara, Ray and Kendra behind. Hell of a cliffhanger.

#legends retrospective #legends of tomorrow #dc's legends of tomorrow #arrowverse #cw

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venomous--fics · 3 years

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Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spider verse x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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na-t0 · 3 years

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— MANY TIMES OVER —

shinichiro sano x reader

mostly fluff, some angsty parts in between. i was grieving for draken while writing, so yeah, that's were the inspiration for the sad things come from.

this maintains a discreet connection with my last post, making some subtle mentions of it. so, in case you would like to read it, it's here. i would appreciate it immensely

wc: 6.6k (sorry, i got a bit carried away)

a/n: this is my love letter to shinichiro, i put my heart and soul into this story, so i really hope you all enjoy it and don't get much confused with all the time jumps. i also would like to add that guys, seriously, just love whoever you want and don't ever give up what you desire, okay? don't be like yua's father and just let people be happy (you will understand after reading). life is short, and we stupidly think we have time, but we actually don't. be always joyful and hold onto your dreams with both hands. to anyone who is reading this, good luck! go and confess already or just fulfill that one thing you want the most, i believe in you

reblogs, likes and comments are deeply appreciated. please ignore any spelling mistakes, the constant editing and the awful glitching

yua — "primarily a female name of japanese origin that means love, affection"

eyes slowly opening. 9:11 a.m.

a couple of minutes after waking up, the cloudburst was captured by your senses

you’ve spent the night with shinichiro after he mentioned that today, he was not going to work at the shop and you were mostly free from your duties. so now, you found yourself laying by his side, head on his bare chest while one of his arms was keeping your body close, null distance

sadly, the comforting position didn’t last long. you decided to get up from his clasp to take a look outside, reaching the sliding door from his bedroom that lead to the backyard of the sano’s residence, leaving it open to allow the humid mist of the rain caress your skin, not forgetting to carefully make sure that the bed was far enough from you, so it wouldn’t bother shinichiro. all of this because, when the green of the plants that lie in the garden, moves slightly to the weak blows the water causes when dropping, it relaxes you

appreciating the view, you instantly recognized an old bike drowning on the ground next to some old motorcycle parts, causing a few giggles to escape from your lips

moments after, your boyfriend rolled in bed and felt your absence, making him sluggishly start to wake up too, huffing. he thought you had agreed to stay the ‘’whole day’’ in bed to be lazy together and here you were, up at nine in the morning

when his eyes adjusted better to the dim light the surroundings provided, he saw you standing against the doorframe, looking at the rain outside and laughing softly, in nothing more than black panties and one of his plain white shirts barely covering your thighs. how could he be mad at you for leaving his side when you looked like that? it wasn’t fair

he felt in heaven, he couldn’t describe it any other way. you were his angel, his day and night, his girl

he knew from way back that you loved watching the raindrops fall, and with the passing of years, he came to discover that he loved watching you

-good morning baby, what you doin' over there? what’s so funny?- he stretched out fully awake and placed his arms at the back of his head, getting into a more comfortable position to admire you better

-crap, did i wake you up?- you quickly turned around to look at him, startled by the sudden sound of his voice

-not really. i was missing you in my sleep, so i stopped doing it- he fake pouted and you rolled your eyes, he really beats himself every morning with stuff like this, it never ceases to amaze you

-you are ridiculous- you said and he smiled without saying anything else, waiting for your response

-so?-

-i was just thinking about that one time we ditched a whole day of classes to go for ramen with master kazo, when we were in middle school. the bike outside, it’s the same one, right?-

even if you tried, you couldn’t remember the exact date. you were both young and pretty much dumb, hungry and immensely bored. it just happened

-yeah. you mean our first date?- he asked biting off a smirk

-that wasn’t our first date, shinichiro. it was just one time we hanged out, we were still friends- you crossed your arms in your chest, protesting. he always teases you like this

-what do you mean friends? i already confessed to you like five times and i think i did it again that day- he said, sitting up

-with that one last confession, they were actually eleven-

-you counted them?- his voice sounded so offended that you couldn’t help but laugh in his face

-you didn’t?-

he laughed with you, a blush creeping his neck and cheeks. still the same dork

-that’s so fucking embarrassing- he rubbed his eyes, cringing

you left the door and walked towards him, standing next to his shirtless sitting figure at the corner of the bed, one of your knees on the mattress and both arms around his neck, fidgeting with his morning hair

-it is- you chuckled, gazing at him

-whatever, you were so whipped for me back then that you even kissed me at the end, how about that, hm?- he placed his arms around the back of your bare thighs, stroking them sweetly

-shut up, i just accepted the invitation because you pestered me so much and it really was a boring class. and the kiss was because you got all bruised for me and i felt bad about it- you frowned and looked away, now feigning annoyance

-that’s such an awful lie- he mentioned narrowing his eyes, making you laugh and give up

-yeah, it kinda is- you admitted

he smiled and stared at you for a couple of seconds in comfortable silence, as if he were thinking about something, an idea enlightening his mind

-would you like to try it again?-

-what?- you perfectly knew what he meant, the question simply slipped from your lips. did he really just came up with that?

-it’s raining, kazo surprisingly still makes ramen and i’m still in love with you. how about we take that same date right now? what could possibly go wrong?- yes he did, and you? you were a speechless, blushing mess trying to play it cool

-accidents, shinichiro? that could go wrong, and i don’t want us to die because of your damn motorcycle- who were you trying to fool? you actually loved the idea. but you were worried, you weren’t irresponsible kids anymore

-that won’t happen cause we are going to use the good old bike and take the alleyways, not the busy streets. just like that one time-

-but does it still work? seems pretty worn out, w-what if we crash again, shin?- you asked. excitement slowly starting to creep in the deepest parts of your being

-well, the story will repeat itself. quite tempting don’t you think, love? the bike is fine i promise, i’ll just wash it up- he proposed you, with that fatal closed eyed childish grin

yeah, of course you ended up agreeing

heavy drops tapped against the window that was next to your seat, humming a soft tune that kept you distracted, you were feeling sleepy

physics class. second period. 8:39 a.m. newton's laws of motion

your professor was explaining the theories and you took some notes, or whatsoever. it was raining, and the vibes in schools change entirely when the skies fall above carefree teenagers. no one gives a shit about subjects or activities for the rest of the day, and you were no exception

not even noticing when the teacher left the classroom. you put all your things away, waiting for the next class to start while you kept yourself in your chair, watching the clouds. enjoying the quietness and the water tumbling at your side. this climate always engulfs you in a particular peace that is rather difficult to explain, so each time, you decide to just dissolve within it. and you totally love it. that’s why, when some of your friends gathered around you and mentioned something about going out, you simply decided to keep yourself on the same spot, alone

‘’inertia. the first law states that if a body is at rest or moving at a constant speed in a straight line, it will remain at rest or keep moving in a straight line at constant speed unless it is acted upon by a force’’

in fact, you were the resting object, and shinchiro sano was the force that acted on you

-yo! y/n!- just like that, all the tranquility disappeared in mere seconds. as a loud thunderstruck in the dead of night, he entered your classroom, tripping, coming close to you with his unkempt uniform and that stupid greasy hairstyle

-so, how you been?- he stood next to your sitting self, hands on his pockets, serenely, as if he didn’t almost knock down an entire desk with his disastrous entry

-stop with that, shinichiro, we greeted at the gateway. what do you want?-

-would you like to go out with me? like, right now?- huh?

-no-

-cool, we are taking my bike. i know a perfect place we could-

-i literally said no, sano-

-i know, i heard you. but i’m not giving up that easy- you raised a brow and glared at him, unfazed

-our next class starts in like 10 minutes, what do you mean now?- he gulped and continued

-look, it’s raining. teachers are basically hidden, it’s going to be a free day for all of us. so you shouldn’t be here all by yourself, you need to go out and enjoy it you know?-

-i have my own ways to enjoy the rain, thank you-

-by just staring at it? come on, i can see you like that a lot but, please? i bet you are so bored that you don’t even have a nice excuse to give. and you’ve already said no so many times to me so please, please, let me take you out today- he was begging at this point, you almost made fun of him

-this is not the first time we hang around, shin. you invite me to your house very often, you are overreacting. by the way, what makes you think i’m bored?-

-yeah, but this is going to be a different occasion, i can feel it. and to answer your question, everyone is bored after physics class- hold on a second

-did you check my schedule?-

-of course i did! i memorized it, now come on- he grabbed your hand and made you stand up abruptly, taking with him your bag and placing it on one of his shoulders while he held his own with the other

-w-wait! are we are not coming back to take the other classes?!- he was basically dragging you. walking real fast through the school hallways, carefully avoiding to stumble with any teacher that could recognize you

-i don’t think so, y/n. this day is going to be for us only, okay?- he looked back at you, grinning, and your heart tingled

he made it look as the easiest thing ever and you gave in, squeezing his hand back. a little fun couldn’t hurt, right? well…

you had to act quickly to catch the only chance to actually escape classes without getting terribly penalized. the guard on the entrance gate took a 7 minute break to go for a coffee at the school’s office every day at the same hour, so the plan needed to be executed in that certain amount of time

step 1. wait for the entrance to be alone, step 2. be sure to not forget your bags and hold them firmly, step 3. jump the gate, step 4. take the bike out of the secured deposit at the front of the building in the shortest amount of time possible, step 5. run for your lives

the rest is history

a triumphant scream resonated against empty, watery streets, far enough from your shared middle school. shinichiro was speeding with his bike while you were taking a seat behind him, holding tightly to his waist with a huge smile on your face. you made it out neatly, on a path worthy of an olympic medal, and the adrenaline was just washing over your bodies, leaving you with pure bliss. both damped from the rain pouring over yourselves, not minding it at all

in that moment, it was only you and him in the world

-i can’t believe we made it, you good there, pretty?- your cheeks heated with the nickname, the rush surely boosted his confidence

-y-yeah, i think so- you laughed, a bit shy. hugging him closer and placing you head in his wet back. the gesture made his heart beat so roughly against his ribcage that he silently prayed to all the gods and deities he could think about for you to not notice

-but if you get me in trouble, i’ll stab you- you continued

-i would die happily knowing that it was on your hands-

-you are so stupid, shinichiro- he giggled

after a couple of more jokes and some time going around the city, watching together how the houses disappeared in an endless fog, you both started to get hungry, and he decided to visit the most reliable and special place to eat in town

yua ramen house

the owner is a man named kazori okamoto, mostly known as ‘’master kazo’’ for his amazing cooking skills and because he simply enjoys the nickname. he is a funny man and a very important person for the sano family, even to this day. he met grandpa sano in their early teenage years and the friendship still remains alive. he used to dream with being an elite chef, but certain circumstances he had to go through leaded him to abandon his desires. despite all, he claims that he is happy with what he has right now. ‘’life goes on, regardless’’ is one of his known personal quotes and little manjiro´s favorite, for some strange reason

so the fact that shinichiro decided to introduce you to him that day, definitely meant something else

-master! ‘you there?- shinichiro stepped in as if the establishment was his living room and you followed closely behind, taking a glance at everything. it was a tiny place, but very welcoming and warm

quite the opposite to how you felt, drenching in your school uniform

-sano boy! what the hell are you doing out with weather like this and- he looked directly at you. and you smiled, bowing to greet the old man

-nice to meet you sir, you both seem to be really close- you added, sheepishly -my name is y/n-

-of course you are!- he said getting closer to you and mockingly punching shinichiro in the arm, the poor thing almost flies from the ground. he had a nice smile, you noted -it’s my pleasure, sweetheart. i’ve been dying to finally meet you- oh, now that was new

-really?-

-i swear this brat never shuts up when it comes to you, even if i’ve never seen your face before, i could know it was you from all the things he has said to me- shinichiro coughed loudly, completely exposed

-y-yeah well, that’s because she will be my wife someday, sir. i’m trying my best- what the hell was he even saying

-you better, lover boy- kazo mentioned, with the biggest and cheekiest grin you've ever seen

you opened your mouth to answer to the revelation, embarrassed to the most, but master beat you to it

-so, what would you like? what can i do for you?- intentionally changing the subject to avoid any kind of denial from you

both creeps: 1 – you: 0

-u-um, what do you recommend?- you asked still a little shooked and flustered, looking at the menu

-i can surprise you if you let me, just give me the approbation that you don’t dislike any ingredient that you see and i will prepare a random dish for you, deal?-

-okay, deal. thank you so much, sir-

-no problem- he said, starting to roam around the kitchen in front of you, hardly trying to ignore the pool of water you were both making in his recently moped, squeaky clean, floor. one of his eyes twitching

-i would like some- shinichiro started

-yeah, yeah. i know what you always eat kid, so for now, how about you go to the back and look for a fucking mop to wipe the mess you made, you already know where it is. i can bet both of my legs that this was your idea-

-she is into this too!-

-then get her a towel you rat! here, the keys to the shed- kazo threw them his way and you sticked your tongue out to shinichiro while he disappeared to the back of the restaurant

-oh! how rude, i didn’t introduce myself. i’m kazori okamoto, but you can call me master kazo- you nodded and accepted the hand he was offering, containing your laughter, he was just like grandpa sano. all kindness to you and disinheriting shinichiro at the second

-then thank you, master. nice to meet you again and sorry for the disaster we brought- he accepted the apology and smiled back at you, turning to resume what he was previously doing, while you were sitting in one of the bar stools. the shop was empty, obviously, who in their right mind would go out to eat with a storm like this? exactly, only shinichiro sano would

you decided to take another look around, eyes wandering over the place now more carefully, while the old man was working on the food. a picture on one of the walls catched your attention, it was the portrait of a gorgeous woman, she was standing against a bridge that seemed to be somewhere in tokyo, in a red summer dress and an immense loving smile adorning her face, directed to the person behind the camera. it seemed old, a captured memory from a distant past

-master, can i ask you something?- you called him, curiosity winning over you

-yes?-

-who is the pretty lady of the picture?- you thought he didn’t hear you at first because there was a moment of silence, but turns out that he just hesitated

-my eternal muse- his voice faltered, revealing an intimate part of his soul so effortlessly to you. the tremendous sorrow in his expression was evident, but in those words, it also remained the tender affection of a heart whose love will never decline, a perpetual vow

and because of that, you didn’t feel like making any more questions

shinichiro came back, claimed he couldn’t find any towels, kazo called him useless, he moped horribly the floor, and then finally, you proceeded to eat. master prepared the most delicious and exotic shoyu ramen you ever had and some tonkotsu ramen for shinichiro, with an ice cold cola to the side, his favorite, it could never miss

kazo spoke with the heart open in his words, reminiscing hilarious experiences of his youngster era to entertain you while you finished. you were fixated in the way he seemed to relive those moments for an instant, but shinichiro was looking at you, inevitably. your laughing figure, those pretty lips and those pretty eyes shining in delight. if only you could imagine how much he liked you

the hours slid through your fingers like silk, between the anecdotes of an old man and the secret glances of an enamored teenage boy. proving that what they say it’s true, when you have nice company, time surely flies. but school hours ended, and you had little to no time to go back to your house before your parents suspected anything

-thank you so much for the food master, i really had a lovely time- you started

-no, no. thank you both for keeping me company, the place was alone until you showed up. you could have it all for yourselves, how lucky-

-it’s because today is a special day- shinichiro added smiling, referring to what he said to convince you earlier. putting his hands in his pockets, shrugging, while you blushed

-how come?- the old man asked

-it’s a secret- shinichiro grinned

-oh, i see- kazo winked an eye to him and you couldn’t be more puzzled, deciding to remain quiet

both creeps: 2 – you: 0

-we’ll be leaving now kazo. thank you very much, again- shinichiro payed, not taking any objections from you, and you agreed with his words once again, nodding and smiling at him

-you are welcome anytime, be sure to visit often, okay? bring your siblings and that old fucker of your grandpa that hasn’t stopped in a while too, alright? take care and be good, always-

shinichiro hugged him and you felt the urge to do it after, he just smiled weakly

you gathered your stuff and stepped out, while shinichiro stood inside for a second, master kazo calling him to say one last thing

you never knew what he meant with the words ‘’don’t forget our promise, son’’ but shinichiro surely did

a couple of weeks before that day, kazo sat down with shinichiro outside his store after the boy came back bruised from a fight. the sun was setting and he didn’t want to arrive home yet, so he found shelter with his most confident partner

master was smoking at the front, looking somewhat down, sad, he wasn’t his usual self at the moment and shinichiro noticed it

-are you okay, sir?- he approached him, almost timidly. like an infant, innocent and fearful

-i should be the one asking you that, punk. how’s the eye?- it actually hurt, a lot. he got beat up a couple of hours ago and it was finally getting to him, but he didn’t mind it at the moment, though. he decided to ignore his pain to focus on his friend. shinichiro has always been like this, always selfless about himself and always the most caring about the others, a gentle spirit by nature, destined to be a leader, to be great

-still works i guess, i’ve had much worse- the boy just shrugged, insisting -what about you? is everything alright? you weren’t in the kitchen when i arrived, that rarely happens-

-you are pretty fucking nosy, eh?- shinichiro barely smiled with the remark, he was getting seriously worried

after a couple of minutes in complete silence, master okamoto gathered himself and started to talk

-what are you studying? middle school?- shinichiro nodded. with that question, he opened the topic

-well, i was a bit older than you. it was my last year of high school and i was about to get into college. see, i used to have this teacher i appreciated deeply, he knew how much i cherished the field of gastronomy, and he was an amazing person, so he handed me some school forms abroad that could open my horizons and would be helpful to achieve the career that i wanted, you know? he helped me a lot. i also had the support of the love of my life, her name was yua muraka- the eyes of the man brightened with the single mention of his past lover. saying her name almost in a whisper, staring at nothingness. hoping that by mentioning her, she would appear in front of him with her arms open. thing that he has been waiting for decades, foolishly

-she used to be my girlfriend at that time, my whole universe, and she was happy with the idea of me leaving to accomplish my dream. but i’ve never been a selfish guy, and i wanted her to come with me, to accomplish all of that with me. so, i opened this small shop to raise some money to be able to take her in my journey, and make it one for both- shinichiro remained silent, carefully listening. the funny man he knew and cherished, was now crouched, small and tarnished

-the thing is that, her father hated me, son. he saw me as a punk, a good for nothing. i used to get into fights with your grandpa too, and i wanted to be a chef while he was a doctor. but i couldn’t care less about that crap, she was part of my dream and i was willing to give everything for her-

-the dates were getting closer, school was ending, i bought the tickets, and every day i had more money for finally moving away together and provide her with the life she deserved. but when her father noticed all of this, he started to restrict my visits to her home, and he didn’t let yua out- with every word, kazo started to get more emotional. shinichiro could see the rage in his eyes and the impotence behind his memories

-of course we had our escapades, and let me tell you, those were the best moments of my life. but the little bubble we were living in exploded when he suddenly sent her away. one day he just dragged his daughter to a train far from here, menacing her with the most horrid things that i don’t even want to mention- master took a long drag of his cigarette and continued

-i never found out about his plan or the things he said to her because it was so sudden, in an instant she was just gone. i couldn’t do anything to stop him, i never knew anything about the constant abuse either cause yua kept it all to herself- in minutes, the air turned heavy around them, dark, suffocating. as if the atmosphere absorbed the feelings that kazo’s words professed

-shinichiro, the train collapsed in an accident two hours after leaving the station, a day like this, more than 30 years ago. taking many lives, and ripping my love, my darling, away from me, forever- tears started to tumble from his wrinkled eyes, one by one, violently. the noises of the city turned into a heap of murmurs that made shinichiro’s mind enter a void of dizziness. it was awful, his juvenile heart fell to his feet and got burnt with the remainings of the cigarette that mr. okamoto’s trembling hands dropped, mindlessly

-i couldn’t even say goodbye to her, couldn’t even kiss her one last time- he added, stuttering, dragging his own words and choking with grief. shinichiro felt the urge of crying deep in his gut, but he swallowed it, not wanting to make his friend regret confessing him something so profound and distressing, so near to his core. he needed to remain strong for him

-a couple of months later, i encountered her mother on a random street, and realized that the woman was constantly being blackmailed by yua’s father, and that’s why she never defended her daughter. in that moment, she kneeled before me and asked for my forgiveness, confessing everything to me, all the things that i am telling you right now and how she really did wanted yua to live her life by my side, but that she was too afraid of what her husband was capable of doing- the old man started to gain his posture again, wiping his face. as he is used to doing, since that fateful date

-i never went to college after that and i closed the shop, sticking to the local jobs that miserable men stick to- it all made sense now

-years later i realized that yua probably wouldn’t like the way i was living, so i reopened the shop in her name and here i am, as you can see. ironical how they gave her such a beautiful appellation to edge her life to that extreme, with no love and no affection, huh?- a poisonous laugh escaped his mouth while he took out another cigarette of the tiny box and lightened in silence, shinichiro just remained staring, noting how the man next to him still wanted to cry, and how hardly he was retaining it

-i’m telling you this because you remind me of my younger self. i can sense the love you have for the girl you always tell me about with this tore eyes, that must have glossed the same way when i spoke about yua to someone else. i also suppose that you are concerned because you’re part of a gang and she is just a sweet girl, how you worry for her- the words echoed in every moment of doubt shinichiro recalled having about you, regret clouding his mind. kazo could read him so easily that he even felt embarrassed and disappointed with his own self. something snapped, he took a decision

-but please, shinichiro, don’t ever let her go okay? it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do and vice versa, none of that is relevant if you truly love her, so don’t ever let anything take her away from you. can you promise that to me, punk?- kazo was now clutching to shinichiro’s bloody shirt without even realizing, voice finally cracking with the last sentence, sobbing loudly, all over again. any trace of composure he tried so hard to keep, totally erased from the path they were on

a young shinichiro sano just hugged him, reciprocating all of those times kazo did the same to him as a kid. he opened his arms to let the old man release the huge load of his aching heart -i promise i will, i’m so sorry. i’m really, really sorry- he muttered to his ear, repeating the words almost inaudibly, like a prayer, while the night fell above them

shinichiro took the first drag of a cigarette that day

you were both on the bike again. the rain decreased while you were eating but it started pouring halfway to your house

-be more careful, you are going to get us killed- you exclaimed to the back of his neck, worried about many things, while shinichiro pedaled with all his might. it was actually pretty late, you should have arrived to your house 20 minutes ago and the storm you were caught in was not helping your nerves

-everything is going to be alright, babe. just hold tight- he said untroubled, as always. it was driving you insane

-that’s what i’m doing! and don’t call me babe!-

a couple of streets later, what was expected to happen

happened

you just remember the impact, but what really occurred was that the front wheel got stucked in a sewer hole that you couldn’t see because of the increasing amount of water on the ground, and both of you were catapulted to the pavement. now it’s a funny memory, but back then it wasn’t, and it ached insanely, mostly to shinichiro

he was weak in fights, for sure. but his reflexes were impeccable, using them to instinctly cover your body with his, scratching his whole face in the process and receiving the impact for both, almost breaking an arm for you, literally

while you just bruised your knees, he was still worried, as if the roles were inversed

-fuck! are you okay? are you hurt?- he quickly asked, coming closer to you, scared to death

-nothing serious, you don’t have to worry about it. what about yo- you said without looking at him, still trying to come to your senses. then you realized- oh my god, shin! you are bleeding. i‘m so sorry! i literally crushed you, and you hurted your whole face. p-please forgive me- you were so preoccupied, inspecting his injuries. but all he did was just smile, blood running over his brows and chin. the asshole entirely enjoying all the attention you were giving him at the moment

-i should be the one apologizing! i got us into this, i’m sorry y/n- he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. you weren’t even mad, the fright was still vivid on your skin

and then suddenly, you truly took a deep stare at his features, while the rain kept making a curtain between the two of you. there was no trace of gel from the morning and his wet hair was now fully down, covering his forehead, the water washing his wounds, his drenched white uniform shirt all dirty from the experiences of the day and his pants had an open scratch in the left knee

you didn’t even notice how close you were, sitting together on the corner of an empty alley he desperately took to arrive faster, just staring at each other in silence for a moment. you both cracked in laughter at the same time, the situation was absurd

even though you wouldn’t admit it or either show signs of, you really had great times with shinichiro sano

you like it when he stops to your classroom between breaks just to wish you a nice day, you like lying on the floor next to him at his house’s dojo when it’s summer to eat popsicles with keisuke and his siblings, and you also like the awful cheesy jokes he invents just to make you laugh. because you particularly know that under all those layers of nonsensical girl-crazy rambling lies the most amiable and boldest heart of all, a kind soul with a presence hard to miss

and you like that too

-you know, you look nice like this, without all that dumb gangster wannabe hairstyle, shin-

-did you just, admitted that i look nice?-

-oh god, of course you were going to focus only on that- you rolled your eyes, wishing to not have said anything at all

-i mean, is there anything else i should focus on? it’s an historical moment to me!-

-whatever, sano- you shook your head, chuckling. and he stared at you for the thousandth time today, blood pumping furiously all over his system. he could even feel it on his ears, like the sound a seashell makes when you put it close to you, but this time, amplified to a deafening point

taking a deep breath, he decided to try once again. he made a promise, after all

-y/n- you looked at him in the eyes, driving all your attention to him. he was shaking, he had done this many times with you and other girls before, twenty to be exact, but there’s something in the way you are staring at him right now that results mesmerizing, intimidating, but mesmerizing still. shit, he couldn’t take it anymore -you look pretty to me always. even now, in the most screwed up situation possible, i think you are the most beautiful girl in the world and i- he stopped, red as a beet. inhaling again, he continued -i like you a lot, you know? i’m p-pretty sure i’m in love with you- stuttering a little bit in that last sentence, but who wouldn’t?

-yes, i already know that, shinichiro. you’ve said it like a million times- you smiled softly, looking down at the puddle you were in

-you do?- he didn’t mean to sound so disappointed, but the ghost of what it looked like his twenty first consecutive rejection started to pester him and it was impossible not to, or that’s what he thought

-yeah-

-g-great, cause i will keep saying it until the day i achieve the billion times ‘cause you are my girl-

-i’m not your girl- you furrowed your eyebrows -at least not yet-

-but you will! wait, what?- he was so dumb, you smiled

-just shut up-

without thinking it any further, you pressed your lips against his. the kiss was sloppy, rainy and embarrassing. but to shinichiro was more like ‘’the long-awaited arrival of divine glory’’, that’s exactly how he described it to his little brother when he got home

the silence and the shout, the euphoria and the lull, his insides felt like exploding, the floor was spinning

and you were, in that instant you really were his girl, no turning back. and you kinda enjoyed it

with that kiss you decided to let your feelings grow, and maybe, in a remote future, you would give him your heart to hold for eternity

thing that actually happened faster than what you expected

back to the present, you were both in the same situation, something like an induced déjà vu

a pair of lovers riding an old and too small bike on their way to yua ramen house under the rain. both with 23 years old now, but sharing the same feelings in the same two beating hearts

you started to go eat to yua ramen house together frequently after that first time, but master kazo got sick a few years later, so he had to stop working for a while and decided to leave the country for a break. he came back a couple of years ago, but you have not visited him until now, so it’s been quite a bit since you’ve seen each other

when you arrived, you couldn’t help to feel nostalgic

-sano boy, it’s that you?- his figure was more hunched than before, hair whiter and the wrinkles above his eyes and forehead were more prominent, but despite the changes that the passing of life produces, he was the same funny man you once met

-nice to see you master, how’s the business going?- shinichiro felt so many things in that moment. he was no middle schooler anymore, he left the gang medium a while ago, his siblings were older, and you were still by his side. he has grown, but sometimes, he forgets about that

-as always, punk. it’s really nice to have you here after all this years- you stepped behind your boyfriend

-hello sir, it’s been a while indeed- the old man laughed joyful, taken by surprise

-i can’t believe what i’m seeing, the same two dumb kids that came in making a mess in my shop once, doing it all over again. right y/n?-

-that’s us- you laughed, reminiscing -i’m so glad to finally see you again, master-

-the pleasure it’s all mine, it makes me so happy to have my two best clients here with me-

-we missed you, kazo- shinichiro added, coming closer to give the man a hug, you followed after

-i missed you too- he smiled -but for the love of god, go get a damn towel, son! and search carefully this time!- shinichiro went out, laughing. you viewed the scene amused and moments later, your eyes drifted to yua’s picture on the wall, you felt your soul clench, wondering if master kazo would still answer the same way. of course he would you thought, eternal is eternal

this time, shinichiro did find the towels. and you both cleaned the mess of water sputtering around, waiting for the cook to finish your meals while you chatted, catching up on your lives

-so you really are together since then, huh? i’m proud of you, lover boy-

-i told you i was going to marry her one day, didn’t i?-

-oh! did you guys already?- kazo instantly turned around, almost dropping the pan he was using

-i’m still working on it, but i’ll make sure you get the invitation soon- you suppressed a squeal. you haven’t spoken about this yet, how dare he just throw it out so suddenly?

-wha- you couldn’t even finish

-i’ll be patiently waiting then! nothing would make me happier- mr. okamoto interrupted you, leaving your head blank, as they always managed to

both creeps: 3 – you: 0 you’re out!

the food orders were the same, and with the first taste you took, you travelled ten years in the past. memory is such a graceful thing

kazo sent a glance at the both of you while you were eating, and he couldn’t help his eyes from watering

he saw the same slicked back dark haired kid with wet uniform covered in dirt, sitting with a lovely girl at his side, hair shorter than now and clothes just as messed as the boy’s ones, but the same smile that once brightened her features still present, dedicated just to him and his silly comments

-are you watching this, yua? we used to love like this- kazo mentally talked with the picture on the wall, looking tenderly at it. he didn’t get an answer, but he didn’t need to, he was certain

your relationship was like this since the beginning, unchanging. always coinciding in a world where only you and him existed, surrendering to each other’s feelings many times over. relieving significant moments of your intertwined lives, and at the same time, creating new ones with each arrival of a new day. discovering together a hundred and one different ways to fall more in love,

if possible

#tokyo revengers #sano shinichiro #shinichiro x fem reader #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x you #tokrev #tokrev shinichiro #fanfiction #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev fics #tokyo revengers shinichiro #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers x y/n

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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years

Text

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Mild Language

Chapter 5

* * * * * * *

“You and Fury seem to forget that I’m retired pretty easily.” You say, eyes focused on your surroundings instead of the man talking to you.

A nice breeze flows past, followed by another crowd of passersby. The street is busy as always at this time of day but you always appreciate the hustle and bustle of the city. Something about it appealed to you.

New York has always been busy, for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, with the lack of advanced technology in your time, people spent a lot more time talking to each other in passing than they now spend on their phones.

“No one’s forgotten, except maybe you,” Tony says and you turn to refocus your attention on him.“ Or did you forget that it was you who copped a ride with Fury to Sokovia.”

Of course you didn’t forget that. That mission had been more dangerous and life threatening than any one you’d previously been on.

The man hums and nods, a soft chuckle leaves his lips,“ unless of course you weren’t there for the team.”

“What?” Your eyebrows pinch together,“ what’re you talking about?”

“I’m talkin about you and Romanoff.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee cup away a little.“ Clint told me about that little moment you two had before the city fell. What’d you do? Spring to action when you realized Natasha was in danger?”

Your eyes roll but you avoid answering his question. Cause that is actually what you did. On top of being generally concerned with the safety of your friends, your main focus was Natasha. You’d never admit it, out loud, but you know that’s what happened. And you know why you did, even if you won’t admit it at all.

“Awe, don’t want me exposing your crush on Nat?” He further teases and your nose turns up at him.

“Think I liked you better when you were running around in pjs and building robots and stuff.” He makes an offended face and you smile sarcastically at it.“ If I agree to train the Maximoff kids will you not mention these supposed feelings for Natasha that you assume I have.”

For a moment he looks at you, then nods.“ You’ve got yourself a deal Y/ln. Also,” he pushes his chair back and stands up,“ you’re just training the girl. Rogers apparently has some special plan for Speedy.” Picking up his cup, he claps his hand on your shoulder with extra force, and walks away.

Just as you’re about to slouch into your seat to stay an extra few minutes he calls out for you to come with him and you resist the urge to groan. Sighing softly, you finish your tea and get up.

As you expected Tony takes you to the tower. His choice of music blasts through the sports car and you can’t help but chuckle. Since he was thirteen he’d been obsessed with classic rock. You have no idea what the first song he heard was but whatever it was it hooked him to the genre.

Through the loud music he explains everything you’ll have to go over with Wanda and mentions that he’s getting a facility together upstate that will become the new Avengers HQ, but that move is going to take some time so the tower is still “home” as of now. You nod along, knowing that if not for your enhanced abilities you wouldn’t be able to hear him correctly.

By the time Tony pulls into the private parking garage, whipping into his spot and turning the car off, you completely understand what role you’re about to play in terms of training Wanda.

“What? Eager to get to work?” He asks after you’ve practically sprinted out of the car.

“More like eager to get out before my ears start bleeding.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder at him to stick your tongue out playfully. You don’t have to keep looking at him to know he rolled his eyes.

The familiarity of the building makes it easy to navigate. Pretty much leaving Tony in the dust, you walk through the lobby to the elevators. Taking them up to the training floor.

Your plan hadn’t been to see anyone just yet. Mainly coming here to form some sort of plan as far as training the Maximoff girl goes. Only for her to be the person you run into once having stepped into the training room.

She’s across the room, fingers running over the edges of a treadmill as her eyes look through the large floor to ceiling window. You imagine she’s taking in the sight the tower provides of New York.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You ask, effectively grabbing the young woman’s attention. She turns her head to face you, eyebrows pinching together as she’s not familiar with you, only having seen you just before you hugged Natasha in Sokovia.

“It is.” She replies shortly and you chuckle at it, stepping further into the room.

Giving her a soft smile you introduce yourself,“ I’m Y/n,” you move over to the weight benches,“ Stark asked me to come in and help you adjust.”

Her eyes narrow and that draws your attention to the fact that her eyes are green.“ Are you an Avenger? Because I haven’t seen you around here.”

“I am not. I’m supposed to be retired but no one seems to give a damn so here I am.” Spreading your arms a little to emphasize your current location.

For whatever reason your words make her giggle and you smile at that, happy to have broken the ice at least a little.

“So how’re you going to help me adjust Y/n?” Her inquisitive gaze follows her moving closer to you.

“Not sure. What do you need help adjusting to?” Your head tilts and your eyebrow quirks.“ The training regiment? Your new chaotic teammates? Living in New York?”

“Is all of the above an option?” She asks, and although you know she’s serious you still hear the teasing in her tone.

With a quiet laugh you nod,“ all of the above is an option.” You let her know.“ Um, I’m not sure of all the details with the move upstate but how about I show you around the tower and we can go over the basics of your training and such?” You decide to pose it as a question in case she doesn’t want to.

“That would be nice actually.” She smiles and you notice that it’s truly genuine. So with a smile in return, you motion for her to follow you out of the room.

With her being on this floor, you assume she’s seen it all. Not that there’s much to see. It’s the training floor so there’s nothing but gyms and a locker room. Getting in the elevator, you press the number for one of the floors dedicated to just hanging out.

Not liking the silence of the elevators, Wanda breaks it with a question.“ So why didn’t you join the Avengers?”

“Um,” you take a deep breath and release it as a sigh,“ I’d already done the whole superhero thing before. The Avengers came in and I was no longer needed.”

“Oh really?” She asks and her tone of voice makes you chuckle, then nod.“ And what made you want to be a superhero?”

The elevator stops and the doors slide open.“ I saw what they could do. The difference superheroes make in people's lives.”

Picking up on the shift in your energy, Wanda frowns, ignoring the very expensive looking stuff in the room.“ What happened?” She asked carefully, as if she were trying not to trigger something.

“I-” you sigh softly, contemplating whether to actually tell her or not. Looking into her eyes you see past the general curiosity and what you find pushes you to tell her.

So you both get comfortable on one of the couches in the room and you open up to her.“ I was taken by HYDRA when I was fairly young. And it’s not like the guards and scientists were interested in anything other than making me the perfect weapon. So when they started to experiment on me I was already in a horrible state physically. My health was on a steady decline and none of their experiments worked, it actually made me fatally ill. And with no further use of me, they’d left me there to die.”

Wanda listens intently, eyes misting with tears at the information of your mistreatment.“ But you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” you both laugh softly at that.“ The, at the time soon to be, founders of SHIELD were working with the US military to shut down HYDRA after World War II and they found the facility I was being held in. While they saved everyone who was being held captive there, I was in the worst shape. Seeing that I was on the verge of death, they made a decision to administer the super soldier serum to me to save my life.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise and you have to admit that her expression is amusing.“ You’re a super soldier from World War II?” You nod.“ How old would that make you?”

“I’m 90. And I wasn’t in the war. I was born before the war. When it started I was 16 and already in a HYDRA base.”

She looks down and bites her bottom lip. You know she has another question on the tip of her tongue. And with her background, having volunteered to be experimented on by HYDRA, you know she’ll have a lot more questions after that.

So with a deep breath, you ask what’s on her mind and tuck in for a long conversation.

* * *

After a long day at SHIELD, going over papers to further induct the twins into the Avengers, Natasha finally gets back to the tower. She ignores all the SHIELD agents rushing in and out of the lobby and goes straight for the elevators.

Mentally, she admits that after the headache that is going into SHIELD, the sound of your laugh as soon as she gets on the main floor is refreshing. A small smile forms on her face and she makes her way towards the kitchen where she hears your voice.

While she knows you’re friends with the rest of her team, she can’t help but wonder if you came here to see her.

That thought falls short the instant she reaches the kitchen doorway. She quickly finds that the source of your laugh is the same young woman she’d just been recruiting onto her team.

In fact, laughter comes from you and Wanda as you cook together. The aroma smells incredible but she can’t help but to remember that this is the very same thing the two of you had done on multiple occasions.

“Nat, hey, when’d you get here?”

Your voice pulls Natasha from her thoughts and she almost smiles again. Almost.

“A few minutes ago.” She decides to take a step closer, which puts her right in the doorway.“ What’re you two making?”

“Um,” your eyebrows pinch together and you look at Wanda.

“Paprikash.” She answers with a quiet giggle and a shake of her head.

You smile at her then look back up at Natasha,“ we’re making Paprikash.”

The redhead hums, debating with herself on whether she should stay or not. An indescribable feeling nagged in the back of her mind, growing more persistent as she looks at you and Wanda happily interacting with one another. It gradually chips away at her excitement to spend time with you and she hates it.

With a huff she says,“ I’ll leave you two to it.”

She turns on her heel and walks away, effectively dodging the blue blur that is Pietro running into the kitchen, heading back to the elevator. With her floor practically empty due to the move, she wasn’t eager to go up but it seemed more relaxing than watching someone else make you laugh and smile how she did.

Just as the elevator doors have started to close you slip through, narrowly missing getting your arm caught between the doors, and stand directly in front of her. Your eyes scan her form, up to her face and lingering there. She watches as you take her in, your eyes finally meeting.

In a soft voice, one that practically melts her heart, you ask,“ are you okay?” She can’t say she expected you to ask that, plus the equally as soft look in your eyes, she grasps for an answer. One that isn’t ‘I didn’t like seeing you so happy with someone else’.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and my floor isn’t exactly relaxation friendly right now.” She excuses.

Nodding along, you smile a little at her,“ think I could help with that if you’d let me.” And there’s no way she’s saying no.

That’s how, a little over thirty minutes later, she finds herself following you into your apartment building with takeout bags and beer in hand.

You hadn’t explained the plan until you were picking up the food. Telling her that a change of scenery might be exactly what she needs. Her trying to relax and unwind at the Tower was equivalent to a lawyer trying to relax at their firm.“ You can’t destress from work at work.” You reasoned.

Unlocking your door, you gently push it open and hold it for Natasha. She wasn’t sure what to expect of your apartment, but what she finds definitely isn’t it.

Walking into your apartment makes her a little confused. It’s like stepping into a time vault that housed a number of different eras all at once. While things like your appliances and a few tables or paintings were modern or at least from the last decade, your couch, chairs, and even your cabinets look dated.

It was as if you furnished your home without a single clue of what you actually knew you wanted to present. But it’s you. Natasha finds that it almost perfectly embodies the person she’s come to know you to be.

Since the moment she met you it was clear you were equally as present as you were stuck in the past. Your friendships with Tony and Steve showed that in an ironic way. With Tony the majority of your conversations or bonding was over the future, things he was planning, building, or tinkering with that would change the future. While with Steve you focused on the way things used to be in the era you grew up and were raised in.

“Nice place.” She finally says, moving her eyes from the kitchen to you.“ Very, you.”

The look you give her makes a small giggle leave her lips. You seemed so proud of her first comment and then the second one made you frown, as if you couldn’t tell if you should take it as an insult or a compliment.

“Don’t think too hard Y/ln, your ears are starting to smoke.” She says jokingly, patting your cheek without giving it any thought. Her turning away makes her miss the way you flush at her inconsequential touch.

At your invitation, she makes herself at home, finding a spot on the couch and starting to unpack the food. You join her shortly after with plates and forks, turning the tv on and going to a channel you both enjoy watching.

“How you feelin about the move?” You ask, picking up your plate and leaning back against the couch. Even though the tv is on, Natasha can’t help but notice that all your attention seems to be on her.

While she is definitely used to the attention, men and women alike focusing solely on her because of her looks, your attention is different. She knows it would be unreasonable of her to think you aren’t paying attention to her for her looks because well, when she gives you attention the first thing she looks at is your looks. You’re incredibly attractive, especially to the redhead. But it was more than that.

On both ends, yourself and Natasha saw the physical beauty, but you looked beyond that. You saw the beauty of each other’s personalities.

You’re lighthearted, you have an outlook on life that she finds intriguing, and not just because you’re decades older than her, it was how you maintained a fairly optimistic view on things despite the cards you’d been dealt in the past. On top of that you’re honest and caring, especially to the people you consider friends and family.

As far as she goes, you see her in, almost, the same way she sees you. She’s honest. Shows her care in a way that you find adorable, mainly because it’s so nonchalant. Her will to keep going, to endure the many trials she’s been through. Her strength never fails to amaze you. Not to mention the absolute admiration you have for her in regards to her clearing her ledger. Especially since being an Avenger means so much more to her than just that.

That thought alone sends a rumbling of butterflies in her stomach and she hates how childish it feels but loves it all the same.

“Um,” she looks down, letting her hair curtain between you two to hide the blush that rises.“ I can’t say I feel any particular way about it.”

When she feels your fingers ghost over her cheek, she has half a mind to grab your hand and break it, but it’s you and she’s been secretly craving your touch. In the softest gesture she’d ever been on the end of, you brush her hair back. Your fingers lightly run over her cheek and temple as you hook her hair behind her ear.

She looks over to see you drop your head slightly to catch her eye, a little smile on your face.“ It is okay if you aren’t all that happy to be leaving. The tower has been your home for the last few years. An attachment or even familiarity with it is understandable.”

“I-” she sighs, just barely tilts her head closer to your touch, then lifts her head.“ I’ve never had a home Y/ln.” She knows you can hear the hurt in her words, cause admittedly she didn’t hide it like she usually would. She doesn’t feel the need to with you.

You go quiet for a moment and Natasha wonders if maybe she should’ve kept her somber comment to herself. The instant she considers walling herself off again, you speak.“ Well then maybe,”

She raises an eyebrow at you.“ Maybe what?”

“Maybe this could be your home.” You swallow, nerves manifesting in the way you play with your food.“ I know you’ve only just been here today but, everyone deserves a safe haven. Somewhere they can escape from the rest of the world. Everyone deserves a home.” You finally look back into her eyes,“ especially you Nat.”

You didn’t know but in that moment you got to her in a way no one else ever had. You didn’t tear her walls down. Instead, as if understanding the very reason the walls had been put up in the first place, you built a door to her heart and soul. And only you hold the key to it.

She’s hit with the weight of her feelings for you, feelings she’d never had for anyone before. As terrifying as she finds it, she can’t help but think that if there’s anyone who she could trust to be gentle with these feelings it’s you.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow x yn #natasha romanoff fic #black widow fic #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert #moment in time

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obeymefictionwriting · 3 years

Note

Alright, love, I don’t know if requests are open or welcome and please feel no obligation to write this, I just need people KNOW. Okay, anyway, can I request how the brothers would react to their S/O (MC) wanting a pagan style wedding? (With the handfasting ritual and everything)

Absolutely! Also, I wanna let all my followers know that I really love how creative your requests are. Thanks for respecting my hc preferences and providing me with endless inspiration 🥰

[UPDATE: I enjoyed writing this so much that I really think I should write some fanfics on each brother’s wedding day. What do you think?]

Lucifer

He kinda suspected you'd want a wedding so he was secretly reading wedding blogs and watching DevilTube to get a better understanding.

Spoler: he hated it but was willing to do anything to make you the happiest.

What? You don't want a traditional wedding? Do other weddings exist in a human world? Oh, you want a pagan one?

TBH, paganism makes much more sense to him so now he will be truly involved.

He will respectfully ask to be excluded from calling upon the God and the Goddess because well... he has different beliefs?

However, he totally loves the handfasting ritual ("What a beautiful visual display of our bond, MC")

He will pick your rings out of nowhere "Oh look, seems like Mother Nature left her present for us right here".

OF COURSE he spent hours looking for forest-themed rings on the Akuzon. MAYBE he also looked at a few human world shops as well.

Did you think he'd skip jumping over the broom? Well, wrong you were!

"I never thought our ceremony would be as beautiful as you. Thank you for being mine, MC".

Mammon

Poor guy is so confused when it comes to official ceremonies. Like, he is the King of the Parties but he has no idea about more traditional events.

A pagan wedding? What's that?!

"Whatever makes ya happy, MC, whatever makes ya happy".

At one point (before the wed day), you'll find him sobbing quietly in the dark corner.

"What if I screw up the most important day in your life?"

He cheers up as you explain to him that a pagan wedding is impossible to screw up as everyone is supposed to just have fun and enjoy the day. No super strict rituals!

During the handfasting, he suddenly squeezes your hand tight and whispers "I love you so much MC”.

After the “official” part is over, he will transform to his usual self and will be killing it during the dancing and singing.

“Who could’ve thought weddings are so fun?”

Leviathan

When it comes to weddings, he is a 100% OTAKU

“Do whatever pleases you, MC, just don’t drag me into the process please”

At one point, he will sneak upon you looking at decorations and will get interested though.

“A pagan wedding? It’s like a medieval folk-fantasy anime!”

100% INVOLVEMENT

“Can I make us dresses? REALLY?”

He totally understands how much it means to you but he is just so excited about the decor and costumes.

In the middle of the ceremony, you’ll notice tears in his eyes.

“It’s j-just s-so beautiful... I never thought I deserve anything like that”.

Satan

So you want a pagan wedding huh?

He will spend several hours researching the topic and will come to you with a ready and ~excellent~ wedding plan.

He really approves of your idea because paganism feels so... natural to him.

He respects and worships natural power and the idea of a pagan wedding sends shivers down his spine.

During the ceremony, he will be collected and calm as ever. But after you look him in the eyes, you’ll sigh in amazement: there is a whole wildfire burning in them.

He’ll close his eyes during the handfasting ceremony and you will see a tiny smile crossing his lips.

“That was almost as beautiful as you are”.

Asmodeus

He was about to present you a 100001 idea for your wedding but what’s that? Oh, you have an idea? He’s all ears!

To be honest, he never thought and even heard of a pagan wedding before but it sounds really special - just like your bond.

He will ask endless questions to learn more and eventually, he will be 100% into it!

Asmo appreciates beauty in all forms so he finds the idea of a nature-inspired wedding really charming.

“There is so much what we can do with decorations and dresses!” During the handfasting ritual, he will quietly gasp because he is so amazed with everything happening! You thought Mammon would act like a child but it’s actually Asmo who is so purely innocent and joyful.

When you share a kiss, you’ll notice how serious he looks.

“Our bond will last forever now and I am forever yours”

Beelzebub

The guy isn’t really into ceremonies and weddings but he knows it will make you happy.

“Just don’t sqeeze me in a fancy suit, please”.

Oh, a pagan wedding? What’s that?

What kind of food you serve at pagan weddings?

He will be unusually serious about the whole process and will for sure help you with planning and organizing.

To him, everything will be a new experience so he will realize that he, in fact, is really enjoying the ceremony.

“I’m so glad I can be myself and we don’t have to do any fancy stuff”

All the rituals seem really magical to him and he takes them really seriously.

At one point, he will quietly put a crystal out of his pocket on the altar.

“I want to contribute something special too. I want to always contribute to anything that makes you happy”.

Belphegor

He honestly does his best not to ignore your talks about wedding though all this stuff makes him sleepy... Though an unknown word wakes him up.

Pagan? What’s pagan?

“If you think that’a good idea I won’t stop you”

He doesn’t show it but he is actually interested in preparations.

He seems so cool and indifferent throughout the planning that you might think he doesn’t care at all.

But then, when you arrive at the spot, you gasp because there is a wonderfully beautiful altar with so many special items.

“You thought I didn’t do my little research, did you?”

During the handfasting, he squeezes your hand and looks you right in the eyes.

“I will always make an effort for you, never doubt that”.

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Daily Life - Yandere Childe, Zhongli, Xiao

A continuation of the earlier post about Kaeya and Diluc

Content Warnings: n/s/f//w mentions/themes/stuff (but not like, explicit detail), fem reader, normal yandere stuff

==================

Childe's a busy guy. He wakes you up every morning, usually pretty sweetly. He'll nuzzle up against your face, mumbling a "good morning" into your ear. He's sweet, but, you gotta get up when he tells you to. And you have to be the one to make food, he likes watching you walk around.

If he's gone, he is again one to give darling a surprising amount of freedom. He has the highest quality of security available and all, so he allows some roaming. That and, in a sorta terrifying thought, he's one hundred percent confident that even if you got away, he could find you, so he's not even too worried about escaping. He's so confident that you'll never truly escape him, which frankly is pretty intimidating for darling to realize. He'll get you things you like and stuff to do, stimulate your mind and all that, probably as time goes on will leave you chore lists and things you're required to do for him or else.

When he gets back, he's very tired usually, will expect you to make him food and be sweet and greet him at the door when he comes back, preferably on your knees. If you're not, he'll get irritated, especially if you're trying to hide. If you're just asleep or something, he might excuse it and find it cute. But he does a lot for you, you know, the least you can do is this one little thing. If he's had a particularly bad day, he'll be extra irritated, so it's wise to follow this command, and be ready to have all of his irritation taken out on you the moment he gets back. You're his favorite little stress ball to stuff and squeeze.

For days off, as I've said before he's one of the few that will willingly take you outside, and unlike Kaeya from the last routine post he's not in a bad mood about it either. He likes to show you off, likes walking in public holding hands or with his arm around you so that people can see, it gives him a sort of pride, and honestly he likes mimicking a "normal" relationship. But just know you're on a tight leash. Not literally of course... yet. He lays it out very clearly exactly how you are to behave when going outside, not speaking to others and not going out of his sight. Any attempts to make a scene, try to get a stranger to help etc will be dealt with fairly harshly. And don't think about pulling some covert, sneaky shit like trying to look at a stranger with the "help me" facial expression or trying to silently mouth something, slip a written message to a waitress etc -- he'll be watching you closely enough to pick up on any of that, and honestly that will set him off more than blatantly trying to make a scene. You will be immediately headed home to get an attitude adjustment since you can't behave.

Later on, he'll want you to accompany him to his work sometimes, on those days that whatever he has to do involved more sitting down than fighting - paperwork, important meetings, etc. He likes your presence, of course, you make the time pass more quickly. But really this is, more than anything, because he's an arrogant show-off. He'll give you something to fiddle with but will just sit you on his lap throughout the whole time, gently stroking your thigh or resting his head on your shoulder, making you wear embarrassingly revealing things and making sure everyone sees, be it the entire group in a wide meeting hall or some subordinate come to have a one-on-one talk, or even his superiors, thanking them for them letting him bring his pet to work. It even allows him to get in some good de-stressing during the middle of the day when no one else is around. Expect lots of bring-your-fucktoy-to-work days like that.

Of course, not every day is spent out, though. He also has days he'd rather just stay at home. These days are usually after a long period of difficult work and late nights, so he's exhausted. Expect lots of naps, just cuddles and an arm wrapped around your waist (with a solid iron grip, of course). May or may not progress to slow cuddlefucking, who knows (yes it always does). He gets all whiny and demanding because he's soooo tired, so he'll make you get on top after a few rounds.

-------

Honestly we all envy my Zhongli's darling already, but God he's the best to wake up to. He just softly kisses the side of your face, running his hands down your sides. He can't let you sleep in too much, it's bad for your health! You can probably beg for a few minutes extra. And God, is it the best to wake up to. He's already got someone (probably one of the other adepti, a person, who knows) to make you food, and it's never skimping out either, it's always tons of food and your favorite things, too. Within limits, of course, can't have you eating nothing but things that are bad for you. He's also one that will get you tons of things to do throughout the day, virtually anything you ask for, he'll pay for (well... someone will, but you'll think he did, at least). He actually might also give you a list of very simple tasks to do, just to give you some motivation, since even if you have a lot to do, having no tasks and only play can get depressing without the sense of accomplishment. But he's much more lenient on your completion of all of them.

He's always reluctant to leave and gives you a lot of headpats and kisses before finally heading out for the day, always taking time to contemplate whether or not he can just take the day off. During the day you'll stay in the confinements of your cage, be that an abode or a building somewhere, making sure you stand zero chance of ever getting out. If you force his hand (read: multiple escape attempts), he'll reluctantly have to limit your roaming abilities, but once you're confined to a smaller cage and have some privileges taken away, he's certain you'll be on your best behavior to get out again, and maybe be a little more grateful and understanding in the future. Once he gets back, it's generally a very nice time, he likes to lead a quiet life and will want to hear all about your day, what you did, see the progress on all those little projects you've been working on for art or music or whatever hobby you've taken up to pass the time. If he's had a bad day, he'll probably tell you about it, but you know, put it in terms simple enough for you to understand, since you wouldn't normally get such complicated matters.

On very very rare occasions, not nearly as often as Childe, he might take you to on his day with him, probably not during normal workdays, but for some kind of special day -- a large meeting, or the opposite, a day where he has nothing to do but slow paperwork alone in an office. The sunlight is good for you, and he'll bring stuff for you to do too. To be honest, it's not as obvious nor as obnoxiously vocal about it as Childe, but he also does enjoy having your presence in front of others, letting them see you. The things you'll have to wear aren't nearly as obscenely lewd as Childe's either, but they're not entirely wholesome either.

He really likes having off days. On those days, he'll probably want to take you somewhere, generally will do whatever you want to do. He's incredibly knowledgeable on everything in the area, and would probably also really like going out somewhere secluded in nature, rather than in the city, like a nice view from the nearby mountains or the like, and just spend a day there. It's nice, and far away from prying eyes that can't recognize your face off the missing person posters or witness the obscene things that may or may not take place up there.

Spending time home is always nice too, though, just quietly going about the day and doing whatever you want, although inevitably taking breaks for much-needed... displays of physical affection. And he tries so hard to be gentle, but he also has a lot of stress pent up that may just come out and result in being a bit rougher than usual, but he's always apologetic afterward, making sure you're alright. He's also pretty strict about the time you go to bed. Making sure you get enough sleep and all that.

-------

Xiao's poor, poor darling. You always wake up to him shaking you awake. He's impatient. Once he feels you've had enough sleep, he'll get you up like that. Don't try to get more sleep-in time, he's not very gracious on that, will simply huff and yank you up. Otherwise, the mornings can be... Sweet. It's not like he's trying to be so cold all the time; if you're well behaved he can be pretty loving, even if he doesn't quite know how to be gentle. He just has... Low tolerance.

Xiao is very quiet for the most part, and the mornings have a sort of silent peacefulness provided it's one of your days that you don't choose to be difficult. He likes to watch you go about the morning. It's a little creepy to be honest? He just sits there nearby and watches you move around, make food, brush your hair or teeth or whatever. He'll eat whatever you make him, even if it's not one of his extremely limited liked items. He might complain, though.

During the times he IS gone, well, it's extremely boring for poor darling. Early on, or if you've done something to warrant it (read: literally the slightest word of disagreement, a tone of voice he doesn't like, even a facial expression he deems defiant) you'll be bound to the bed, hand and foot. Nothing to do whatsoever but stare at the ceiling. It's your own fault, if you were good maybe it wouldn't be like this, he says. When you are good, and have a nice long-time record of being extremely pleasant and sweet to him - and I mean a LONG time - he might - might - finally let you be unbound aside from a long anklet chain connecting you to the bed. Not like you have much else to do, though. Maybe he'll get you books if you ask nicely and grovel at his feet. But that's it. He doesn't like the thought of giving you too much entertainment. If being alone is mind-numbingly boring, well, you'll enjoy time with him that much more. Eventually you'll reach a point where you're begging him not to leave, he hopes, even if he would never admit to that. So what he'll do is balance it, give you just enough to keep your whining down, but keep making sure you're miserable when alone. He only allows you "activities" (read: a book) on certain days of the week, or every other day, every third day, something like that. And you can only get a new book once a month or so. And it's whatever he finds, not just what you want, so he'll start dropping you with encyclopedias and textbooks and other dull things. You can't complain, after all he IS giving you something to do. If you're gonna complain, well, how would you like to have the reading privilege revoked entirely? And that shuts you up. So, really, poor darling's days are very very bleak, dull, and empty, when alone.

He doesn't really have a "end of the day." His "job" is more or less a 24/7 thing, he goes when he's needed and when he's not needed he'll be with you. Usually it's a semi normal schedule but it can lead to odd intervals - you may have times he's gone for a full day or so, and then times where he's there for a whole day, etc. Spending time together is quiet, but he's surprisingly fond of physical affection. He spends a lot of time just... alone with his thoughts. Spacing out and thinking, looking up at the sky, except, well, now it's him, his thoughts, and you. You'll spend it with him too, iron grip locked around your waist so you can't pull away from his lap. He's also one to need to get out the... frustrations of life through physical activity at night.

Days he's there, again, it's pretty quiet, he's not much one for extensive conversation, of course. If you talk, he'll listen, but don't expect him to say much back. He likes the sound of your voice, one of the only people he doesn't prefer silence to, so long as you're not whining about wanting to leave. He doesn't really have a lot of sitting-down type of work to do, so if he's spending a whole day time with you, it means he's specifically worked it out so that he's able to do so for that purpose. He'll probably prompt you to speak, it's super awkward really. An awkward comment about this or that that he clearly wants you to start talking about, and he'll talk back just a little bit, with his own brand of harsh pessimism -- but that's just the only way he really knows how to communicate, he's not actually trying to shut you down when he responds to everything negatively. It's the most bizarre bonding time, but bonding nonetheless. He also likes to watch you do tasks -- to make food, even if it's just for yourself, to clean and walk around doing your little tasks. He may or may not eventually discover a fondness for forcing you to walk around naked, poor darling.

I've mentioned before that his drive is reactive - it gets heavier when he's with you. So really, your day will be filled with little fun intervals of very spontaneous fucking. Like, he has no sense of mood or timing. It's completely random, very forceful, will just loop his hands under your arms and scoop you up and carry you over to bed at any random moment, interrupting your speech even. Or, sometimes the bed is too far, and just bending you over is easier. And then, he'll just carry on like nothing happened.

He's not one to rant and rave about his day by default, and especially not early on. In the later stages, though, once he's comfortable with you, you might find him slipping out a frustration here or there, a passing comment about something upsetting that happened, and if you pry at it, he'll end up talking, much more than usual. He kind of doesn't even realize he's starting to ramble a bit, and if he catches himself he'll stop and mutter something about it being unimportant anyway.

Bonus little hc: He asks you how your day was. Every day that he's not with you. It's a routine - he started doing it because from his limited knowledge of human relationships, it's the "normal," so he tries to emulate what he feels like is normal in a relationship. It's kind of funny, well, not for poor darling, it feels mocking. Like, how do you think my day was, Xiao? All tied up and left only to stare at the ceiling? If you get all sarcastic with him like that, though, he might see it as grounds for punishment, so, be snarky at your own risk.

#yandere genshin impact #lena's asks

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attllhak · 3 years

Text

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

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

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

166 notes · View notes

goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Note

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #profoundnet #rae writes fic #alpha castiel #omega dean winchester #alpha beta omega dynamics #celebrity dean winchester #barista castiel #professor castiel #the original apple pie latte

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

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