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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you.

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together.

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten.

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation.

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all.

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned.

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms.

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present.

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?”

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up.

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously.

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it.

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious.

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box.

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away.

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt.

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss.

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this.

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you.

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was.

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully.

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was.

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place.

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

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atlafan · 3 years

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Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure��wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Most Ardently (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Based on my incurable obsession with Pride and Prejudice!

Summary: Regular customer, Spencer Reid, proclaims his love for Reader, a worker in the bookstore, through the only thing as beautiful as love itself - literature.

Couple: GenderNeutral!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble, One Shot Word Count: 1.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call me what you want, but if there’s one word you should use to describe me - it better be observant.

Most people would call me nosy, but it’s not like I was snooping or prying to get the information that I did. It was just there, in plain sight. Every time I cashed out a customer, I observed what they were buying for books, which, again, isn’t snooping, and therefore, isn’t nosy.

Regular customers like Miss Jane, the third-grade teacher, often bought books geared towards her students’ demographic, with the occasional steamy romance or self-help book. I liked her. She was fun.

Another regular was Ed Corrigan. He was just an elderly man that liked to stop by on Sundays, usually with a piping hot cup of coffee in hand. He read books about fantasy, utopian and dystopian worlds, science fiction.

If I had one wish, I’d wish to be half as cool as him when I grow up.

But there was one regular customer in particular that I had my eye on.

Mr. Spencer Reid.

He didn’t come in as frequently as Miss Jane or Mr. Ed Corrigan - his visits were monthly, and if I got lucky, sometimes he’d come in every other week. But the reason why I could remember him so vividly despite the rarity of his presence was because of his taste in literature.

It was the exact same as mine - classics.

Dickens. Wilde. Asimov. Bradbury. Poe. Chaucer. Bronte. Melville. Homer. Thoreau. Emerson. Whitman. Doyle.

I think his affinity for classical authors made him all the more attractive - not to say that his looks wouldn’t suffice if he had a different preference, because they most certainly would. He was certainly beautiful. Very, very beautiful.

But to be frank, I looked forward to his visits for the sole reason that I was unequivocally, irreversibly, hopelessly in love with him.

He’d been coming to the bookstore for years now, and even though we never spent time together outside of my work, I felt like I knew him - that I’d known him my entire life.

People like to say that books are the windows to the soul, but I strongly disagree. The books you like are the windows to your soul. Thankfully, he was always around to buy ‘the windows to his soul.’ And each time he was here, I’d cash him out, observing his ‘soul.’ In fact, he bought books so often that I had to wonder what his job was. I suppose the same well-paying job that helped him afford his red-bottom shoes, suits, high-end messenger bags, and the occasional Comme Des Garçons cardigan supported his book addiction, too.

Luckily for me, he was a gentleman. Whether it was intentional or not, he’d never make me wait too long after leaving before he came back. Even luckier for me, he came in twice this month - once a couple of weeks ago and today.

I was organizing a bookshelf in the autobiography section when he stumbled upon me.

“Hey!” His voice only ever reached that high a pitch whenever he was truly overjoyed.

“Hey, Mr. Reid!” I grinned, getting up from the floor to greet him at the proper eye level. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he nodded slowly. “Great now, actually. Because you were just the person I was looking for.”

“I am?”

“I was wondering if you knew where I could find Pride and Prejudice.”

I didn’t mean for my eyebrows to furrow quizzically, but they did out of earnest shock. “Pride and Prejudice?” I asked once more to confirm that I heard correctly.

“Yeah. Why? Do you not like Pride and Prejudice?”

“No, no, I love that book, I’m just surprised you’d want to read it. It’s not really your type.”

“My type?”

Now he was the one with the quizzical brow, returning the same perplexed expression I had on my face just a moment ago.

“I just mean it’s . . . it’s a love story. It’s romantic.”

Rule 1 of when you’re stuck in a hole? Stop digging!

Instantly, I tried to renounce the words that seemed to be failing me. “Not to say that you’re not romantic, just that it’s sort of like -” Thankfully he spared me the agony. “I didn’t think that’s what you meant.” A chuckle escaped him, lightening the room’s air that was suffocating me a second ago.

Trying to regain some dignity, I brushed aside my mental malfunction and said, “But yes. I do know where to find it. Lemme show you.”

He followed close behind as I guided him through the bookstore. He was so close that I could smell his cologne. It was the kind so unique to him, but so perfect in its own way that you could smell it over and over again and you’d never grow tired of it, but you’d never satisfy the insatiable desire to smell it.

When I finally found the bookshelf with Pride and Prejudice, I went down the aisle, and strangely, he departed from me, walking into the aisle on the other side of the shelf. I didn’t question it and just left it up to the assumption that he was being his delightfully peculiar self.

While searching for the book, I’d peer between each spine and inadvertently notice him staring down at me from his towering height. I even saw how he followed my every movement, right down to the pace of my footsteps as I walked through the aisle. At one point, I caught one of his stolen glances, unconsciously looking down immediately after I did so that he might not catch the way my eyes lit up from looking into his.

Eventually, we both made it to the end of the row, and we met at the opposite side of the shelf that we started at. Handing him Pride and Prejudice, I said the usual line I would normally say at the cash register.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?”

He paused to fight the smile creeping onto his face.

“I did, actually. That - and then some.”

My quizzical brow returned. “And then some? What else did you find?”

I waited for an answer that never came but an answer I already knew.

Love.

Just as a means to break the loud silence, I told him, “I think you’ll really like this book.”

“Actually, I’ve read it before.” He responded, not surprising me in the least. Given how well-read he is, how could he not have already read it?

“What’s your favorite quote?”

He didn’t even pause to think before answering.

“We are all fools in love.”

This brought an unexpected smile to my face. “Do you believe that?”

“Ardently.”

His word choice alluded to a quote in the book he knew I’d be reminded of.

‘I love you. Most ardently.’

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

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aestheticallyunaesthetic17 · 3 years

Text

100 questions and answers

Who is your hero? Probably future me, i want to be able to grow up and be the better person that i hope they are, and the only way of knowing that is by making it happen.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be? New Zealand, Canada or USA. I lived in TX for 3 months and loved it there and I have family in NZ and Canada.

What is your biggest fear? Wasps, 100%. Not being stung but the way they look scares me.

What is your favorite family vacation? When we went to Krakow in Poland.

What would you change about yourself if you could? My skin color. I hate it so much.

What really makes you angry? People hating others or stopping others from being themselves.

What motivates you to work hard? To make future me happier than I am now.

What is your favorite thing about your career? I want to be in cabin crew, so probably the traveling.

What is your biggest complaint about your job? Being away from family.

What is your proudest accomplishment? Getting through the shit 2020 brought me without killing myself.

What is your child's proudest accomplishment? No kids rn.

What is your favorite book to read? Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman

What makes you laugh the most? My boyfriend.

What was the last movie you went to? What did you think? Freaks. I was a bad movie, a little like the scary movies franchise. My friend was scared at parts which was super funny to watch

What did you want to be when you were small? An actor. Typical Leo ;)

What does your child want to be when he/she grows up? They can be anything they want to be.

If you could choose to do anything for a day, what would it be? Visit Edinburgh alone.

What is your favorite game or sport to watch and play? To watch, American Football. To play, archery.

Would you rather ride a bike, ride a horse, or drive a car? Drive a car, it's peaceful and warm. I would blast music.

What would you sing at Karaoke night? no idea.

What two radio stations do you listen to in the car the most? Heart and Capital

Which would you rather do: wash dishes, mow the lawn, clean the bathroom, or vacuum the house? Dishes or vacuum.

If you could hire someone to help you, would it be with cleaning, cooking, or yard work? Yard work!!!

If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be? Tandoori Prawn curry.

Who is your favorite author? Jacqueline Wilson or JK Rowling (only her books, not her)

Have you ever had a nickname? What is it? Just Em. But id like to be called Millie.

Do you like or dislike surprises? Why or why not? Depends on the surprise tbh, I like to plan a lot.

In the evening, would you rather play a game, visit a relative, watch a movie, or read? Watch a movie.

Would you rather vacation in Hawaii or Alaska, and why? Hawaii. I was meant to go this year but covid and leaving the US fucked it up.

Would you rather win the lottery or work at the perfect job? And why? Work the perfect job, id get bored sitting around all day.

Who would you want to be stranded with on a deserted island? my boyfriend.

If money was no object, what would you do all day? Travel and see the world.

If you could go back in time, what year would you travel to? 2012. To see my Nana again.

How would your friends describe you? Stupid.

What are your hobbies? Traveling, photography, music and shopping.

What is the best gift you have been given? Forgiveness from myself.

What is the worst gift you have received? Sixe XXL jacket when im an XS

Aside from necessities, what one thing could you not go a day without? My macbook.

List two pet peeves. - Breaking trust - Bad table manners

Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully working my dream job, maybe moved to a different country and traveling the world.

How many pairs of shoes do you own? too many, roughly 16

If you were a super-hero, what powers would you have? Invisibility or teleportation.

What would you do if you won the lottery? build my own house

What form of public transportation do you prefer? (air, boat, train, bus, car, etc.) Train, its so relaxing. Then planes.

What's your favorite zoo animal? Lions or tigers.

If you could go back in time to change one thing, what would it be? My time in America.

If you could share a meal with any 4 individuals, living or dead, who would they be? - My nana - my bf - Princess Diana - Obama

How many pillows do you sleep with? 4, two on each side.

What's the longest you've gone without sleep (and why)? 26 hours, traveling to Texarkana from Edinburgh.

What's the tallest building you've been to the top in? Idk tbh

Would you rather trade intelligence for looks or looks for intelligence? looks for intelligence because then you can earn enough for plastic surgery.

How often do you buy clothes? 1/2 a month

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Idk I guess so.

What's your favorite holiday? Summer vacation Christmas for an actual holiday

What's the most daring thing you've ever done? Moved half way across the world and lived with strangers.

What was the last thing you recorded on TV? Nothing

What was the last book you read? 1984

What's your favorite type of foreign food? Indian

Are you a clean or messy person? Both, but relatively clean

Who would you want to play you in a movie of your life? Millie Bobbie Brown probably

How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? 1 hour

What kitchen appliance do you use every day? Kettle

What's your favorite fast food chain? Chick fil A (i know, i cant buy it now tho)

What's your favorite family recipe? Nana's bacon and egg pie

Do you love or hate rollercoasters? LOVE

What's your favorite family tradition? Opening gifts on Christmas Eve

What is your favorite childhood memory? I dunno really, Ive forgotten a lot of my childhood.

What's your favorite movie? Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Beautiful Boy

How old were you when you learned Santa wasn't real? How did you find out? Probably 7/8 but I dont remember.

Is your glass half full or half empty? Half empty.

What's the craziest thing you’ve done in the name of love? Said i'd come back one day.

What three items would you take with you on a deserted island? A boat and food. Yes i am that person.

What was your favorite subject in school? Scottish school, geography. US school, government.

What's the most unusual thing you've ever eaten? Haggis

Do you collect anything? Foreign coins

Is there anything you wished would come back into fashion? Skinny jeans, my ass looks gooood in them

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? introvert that likes being sociable

Which of the five senses would you say is your strongest? hearing

Have you ever had a surprise party? (that was an actual surprise) nope

Are you related or distantly related to anyone famous? my dad is well know in the whisky business. Has his own prime tv show

What do you do to keep fit? Walk a lot and swim.

Does your family have a “motto” – spoken or unspoken? nope

If you were ruler of your own country what would be the first law you would introduce? everyone is equal.

Who was your favorite teacher in school and why? Scottish School, my geo teacher. US school, my english teacher.

What three things do you think of the most each day? My bf, my mum and America

If you had a warning label, what would yours say? Sad, angry and anxious

What song would you say best sums you up? 17 again

What celebrity would you like to meet at Starbucks for a cup of coffee? Timothee Chalamet or Tom Holland

Who was your first crush? a boy called Finlay who i rode the bus with

What's the most interesting thing you can see out of your office or kitchen window? sheep or cows very often

On a scale of 1-10 how funny would you say you are? 5

Where do you see yourself in 10 years? kids, married, settled down and happy. moved countries 100%

What was your first job? never had one

If you could join any past or current music group which would you want to join? 5sos

How many languages do you speak? 1 - english

What is your favorite family holiday tradition? opening gifts on Christmas Eve

Who is the most intelligent person you know? my mum

If you had to describe yourself as an animal, which one would it be? a cat probably or a tiger

What is one thing you will never do again? trust people fully

Who knows you the best? my bf.

#100 things about me #questions #100 questions

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fredweesleyismyslut · 4 years

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No More Secrets - Tim Drake x reader

A/N: One of my many interests is reading comic books sometimes and in middle school I got really into the robins and batman, so this is me living out my fantasy of dating my favorite by writing Tim Drake fanfic haha. Anyways, twas also written at 12am like most of my writings nowadays because apparently I like writing when I’m running on 3 hours of sleep and 2 cups of coffee at night. So, before I ramble more I’m gonna stop here, so I hope you enjoy this and have a good whatever it is where you live/whenever you’re reading this and if it’s not good it’ll get better! Byeeeee!

Staring at the clock, it felt as if it was mocking you, ticking the seconds away as you waited for your boyfriend to show. Muttering under your breath you said to yourself, “Of course he’s a no show.” You had prepared dinner for him at home, it was your two year anniversary and you had a surprise for him. Sighing you ran your hand through your hair, looking at your phone the last time that Tim had texted you back, you texted one last time, Hey, babe. I’m gonna head to bed it’s getting late. Before he could text back or call you turned your phone off, done for the night, not wanting to be bothered. Tim Drake, your boyfriend, was somehow always busy and missed all your dates, and now he’s missed your anniversary. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if it wasn’t for the fact that, yet again, he’s missed more than half the dates you’ve ever been on. I mean you probably hang out with his brothers more than he hangs out with you. You can count more than once that Dick, his older brother, had come out and eaten dinner with you instead because you had made reservations and Tim couldn’t make it. Groaning you stretched, allowing the air to be released from your joints as you stood up and ignored the dishing, promising yourself you would wash them the next morning.

The next morning, you heard the doorbell ringing, someone was nonstop ringing the bell as you finally jolted from the bed, “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Opening the door, you questioned, “Why are you ringing the doorbell like a madman at 6am?!” Wiping the grogginess from your eyes, you focused, “Oh, Tim. Hey, what’s up?” You stood at the door, as you continued, “I thought it was the kids next door, they usually come over for breakfast since their mom leaves early.” He nodded as he shuffled his hands together, as he smiled softly, “Can I come in?” You nodded, moving aside, as he walked past you, “I’m sorry.” was the first thing that came out of his mouth as soon as he made it in, “I didn’t mean to ditch you last night, I was-” You cut him off quickly, eyes shooting holes into him, you swear if looks could kill...he’d already be dead. “Oh, let me guess, you were busy, just like every other time.” You scoffed softly, as you went over to get water, “Let me guess again, you bailed because last-minute your neighbor’s house burned down and you had to go save everyone?” Tim frowned softly, “Y/n, baby, I promise it’ll never happen again.” You rolled your eyes softly, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Timmy.” His hand reached for yours as you quickly pulled away, as if his hand was made from fire, “Be honest with me Tim, are you just not interested anymore?” you moved to the far corner and crossed your arms over your chest as if protecting your heart from hurt, “In the two years we’ve been together I can count maybe three times that we’ve had a date where you didn’t bail last minute. I mean what is going on, did you just have fun playing with me?” Tim’s face turned into one of appalling, “I would never y/n, you know that.” “Do I? Honestly, at this point I don’t know whether I’m dating you or your brothers. I’ve been on more dates with them where they haven’t bailed than dates with you.” Tim opened his mouth to reply but quickly closed it, instead walking closer, “Darling, please, just listen.” You flinched at his touch, as you pulled away, trying to keep your voice in control you took a deep breath. “Did you ever even love me, Tim?” He flinched at those words as his voice took on a pleading tone, “Babe, you mean the world to me you know that. Please don’t do this.” You shook your head, “I can’t do this anymore. This whole wondering if you love me, wondering if you’re not showing up because I’m not enough.” You choked back a sob as you pointed to the door, “Get out.” Tim tried to step closer before you shouted, “Get the hell out, Drake!” His face clouded with hurt at your words and the use of his last name, as he slowly walked out, but before he did he left a small box on the counter. You walked up to it slowly, opening it to find a necklace with a ring attached to it. You felt tears sting your eyes as you quickly went to calm your thoughts before work.

After work, you were walking back home when you heard a child crying in one of the alleys. You thought to yourself, Maybe someone else will help…, but as you thought that guilt crept into your head and you quickly turned around heading in the direction of the sound. Was it an incredibly stupid idea to go into an alley in Gotham, especially by yourself, yes but if there really was a child in need you had to help. Quickly rounding the corner, you looked around not seeing a child anywhere, “What the hell….” you muttered to yourself as you walked in deeper. Breath quickening as you stepped further in, you felt a sharp sting in the back of your head as your knees buckled. Your head stung and you felt something trickling down the back of your head, ears ringing and vision going fuzzy. You looked up, seeing a large man standing over you with a bat in his hand, “Told ya it’d lure her in…” he said, looking at someone in the corner, as a voice responded, “Couldn’t help yourself huh? You just had to be a hero.” Wincing at the pain in your head, you tried to say something but all that left your mouth was a pained groan, as the man atop you was about to grab your shoulder something whizzed past your vision as the man whirled around shouting in pain. Whatever it was, it had grazed his arm and he was bleeding slightly, as he glanced around, holding his bat tightly. From somewhere behind you there was a loud thud as the man in front of you yelled, “Hey, who are you?!” A figure dressed in red ran past you as the two started fighting. The one in the red suit was gliding around as if he was a butterfly, gracefully avoiding the man’s blows, and throwing his own blows that hit the man each time.

Soon, the fight was over as the one in the red suit hit the man with a final blow, kicking his bat out of his hand and knocking him out. “You okay?” he asked, voice quite familiar to your ears, as he walked up, “You really shouldn’t be walking around in alleys by yourself, especially not in Gotham.” You groaned, trying to sit up, “I- There- I know. It was stupid.” He held his hand out as you accepted, pulling you up with ease, he looked at you. Finally, uncomfortable from the gaze you broke first, “Ummmm...thank you for that. I’m sure you get that a lot since, y’know, I’m assuming you do this every day, but seriously...thanks” He nodded mouth sliding into a tight line as he seemed to be considering something, “Do you want me to take you home, miss?” You were about to decline but felt your knees wobble slightly, “I’ll take that as a yes? I don’t think you’ll make it home without falling on your pretty face.” You smiled softly, “Are you flirting with me?” “I’m trying. Is it working?” Chuckling softly you smiled, as a slight frown replaced it quickly, “I have a boyfriend...sorry.” The man nodded, “I figured….pretty girl like you.” Laughing you smiled, “We’re actually having kind of a fight right now…” you glanced up at him, frown deepening, “I said some harsh stuff to him that I didn’t mean...I’m only saying this to you because we’ll probably never see each other again or at least hopefully not I would prefer to not have my life needing saving every day.” He smiled, “That would definitely be preferable. If I had to save you more than three times I would call it fate at that point.” He was holding you tightly as he swept from rooftops using his grappling hooks or whatever it was called, “Do you believe in fate?” you asked, keeping your eyes on his face, too afraid to glace down. “I’m not sure...Do you?” “Avoiding the question huh? Well...I thought I did. I think I thought fate brought me and boyfriend together...y’know that whole true love and soulmate mumbo jumbo the whole deal.” Laughing at yourself you continued, “I just...I really loved him and I don’t think he felt the same. I was always second most important to whatever it was he did in his free time. All the secrets just became too much...does that make me selfish?” The vigilante shook his head, “I think it makes you honest. You deserve someone who puts you first...someone who doesn’t keep his life a secret from you.”

A couple more minutes and you had arrived at your balcony, “Thanks, for everything tonight and the free therapy session.” you smiled, as he set you down. “No problem, y/n.” You turned around quickly at the mention of your name, “How do you know my name?” you questioned, maybe I let it slip? You thought but you were pretty sure you hadn’t even said your name once, then the idea that his voice sounded familiar set in. “I-uh…” he muttered as you slowly walked up, placing your hand on his cheek, “Tim? Is it you?” you asked gently, as your hand crept up to the edge of his mask, “Can I?” He nodded softly, as you pulled it away, “It is you. I would recognize your voice anywhere.” Tim shuffled awkwardly as he glanced at his feet, charisma from two minutes ago gone now that the mask was off. Then another thought set in, “Were you following me?” you questioned eyes slanting slightly. Tim’s eyes widened as he replied, “You’re missing the big picture here...I kinda saved you...” You laughed slightly as you punched his chest, “I’m messing with you...although I am kind of embarrassed that I complained about you to y’know...you.” Tim smiled softly, “Nothing you said was wrong though... This-” he said as he gestured to himself, “Is a big part of who I am, and I kept it from you it was unfair, especially after two years of you being patient every time I bailed.” He stepped closer, closing the gap as he held your chin, “You deserve to know about this part of me. You mean everything to me y/n y/l/n, I love you.” You leaned into his touch as you smiled softly, as he continued, “I promise I’ll never keep a big secret like this from you again...I just didn’t want to put you in danger and didn’t realize I was hurting you more by keeping you away. If you will, I’d like to make it up to you, maybe dinner tomorrow?” You nodded softly, as you placed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m glad you came to your senses and just so we’re clear you keep things this big from me again then Gotham’s safety will be the least of your worries, Timothy.” He gulped slightly, as he muttered, “Okay, I promise, no secrets especially not big ones.” Then you grabbed his shoulders pulling him down to your height, “How bout you start making it up to tonight? I think Gotham can wait for one night…” Tim grinned cheekily as he pressed his lips to yours, “I’m sure Bruce won’t mind.” You pulled away quickly, “Wait, Bruce, as in Wayne, as in your father? He’s Batman?!” You realized then that your world was about to get a lot more interesting and your homework was going to be the least of your worries when your boyfriend and his family were vigilantes by night.

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

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Oh, Baby!

You and Sebastian have been waiting for almost an entire year to adopt a baby. What happens when the call finally comes?

You stood up from the door you’d just painted and sighed. It looked good. You’d taken painter’s tape and put it in a geometric pattern. There was really nothing else to do with the door until you could put a sign on it with the baby’s name. If you ever got one, that was.

You and Sebastian had been married for two years, together for three before that. He was the absolute love of your life. You wanted the world for him and he wanted the same for you. And when you found out you couldn’t have the children you’d always dreamed of, you’d decided to give adoption a chance. You’d been on the list for a year. Last month you’d been told to prepare a room, so you did. It was absolutely beautiful by the time you were done with it – it was right across the hallway from the office, so you and Sebastian could go check on the baby. It was gender neutral, even though you both wanted a girl. And then the day came to go get the baby and the mother changed her mind.

Now you were waiting, again, on the list. You were waiting and waiting. This time, though, you’d decided to adopt from Romania. It was where Sebastian was from and they had so many babies and children that needed a home, and every time you’d heard Sebastian’s mother talk about Sebastian there your heart had skipped a few beats. But you still couldn’t help but think that maybe you weren’t getting picked because people thought you wouldn’t be good parents. And it was slowly breaking you, little by little, so much so that you’d taken the leftover paint from the nursery and painted over the white door. It brightened up the hallway, that was for sure.

“What on Earth did you just do?” You turned around to see a smile on Sebastian’s face. He’d been gone filming for most of the day. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him since the night before. He was training for another movie, too, and left before the crack of dawn. Luckily, though, the filming was almost over and then he’d be all yours for another few months.

“I got bored so I painted the door,” you said with a shrug.

“It looks amazing.” You stood up. Sebastian turned you around and captured your lips in a kiss, but you pushed him away with your elbows.

“I have paint all over me, Seb,” you giggled.

“Yeah, I know. I like it.”

“And hopefully, someday soon, a baby will.” Sebastian’s face fell, and yours did too.

“Sweetheart, we’ll get a call when we get a call.”

“And what if we don’t?”

“Someone’s got to have a baby,” he said as he pulled your hands to wrap them around his waist. You hugged him back with a sigh. “And one of these days our names are going to come up on that list. And we’ll get a call. And we’ll fly there. And then we’ll have a baby. I promise.”

“But what if they decide we’re not fit or whatever?”

“They’ve checked both of the houses out half a dozen times. We’re good to go, honey. We just have to wait our turn.” You sighed again as he kissed your hair. “And until then, how about you help me bring in the groceries I just got?”

It was two weeks later before you even thought about it again, and before you ended up at that door again. This time it was just because there was a draft in the hallway and you realized that Sebastian had opened the window last night. So you walked in, and the breakdown started. You ended up in the old rocking chair Sebastian had gotten from his mom’s house, one he’d had since he lived in Romania, and you were crying your eyes out by the time he found you.

“I just want a family so bad, Seb,” you said softly as he stood in front of you, taking your hands.

“Yeah, sweetie, I know,” he responded. “We’re a family, okay? And you and me and the dog are going to get our baby. Whether it’s tomorrow or next week or next month or… whenever. We’ll get our baby.” You nodded, sniffling, and tried to stop crying.

“I just wish I could stop having breakdowns over this.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t work.

“Next thing you know, our kid will be going to elementary school and you’ll have a breakdown over that.” You swatted at his shoulder. “What? It’s true, you cry at everything.”

“Hello?” You didn’t even turn your head at the sound of Sebastian’s phone ringing. He perked up, though, and looked over at you. You turned the book you were reading upside down upon seeing the look on his face. You cocked your head and Sebastian turns his phone over for a second.

“What?” You asked.

“Go buy the next tickets to Bucharest,” he said with a smile on his face.

“What?” At first, none of it made sense. And then it did. He turned back to his phone.

“Yep. Yes. Yes. We’ll email you our flight itinerary and meet you at the airport,” he said. “And we’ll have all of our things with us. Right. Thank you, so much. Bye.”

“Well?”

“There’s a baby waiting for it’s new parents in Bucharest!” He said loudly, scooting to your side of the couch to hug you tightly. You’d never felt so happy in your entire life. You’d never felt so relieved, either.

“Ours?”

“Ours. Go, go, get the tickets! I’ll pack!” You jumped off the couch and out of Sebastian’s arms with a squeal and ran into the office to turn on the computer.

In an hour and a half you were loading your carry-on bags and the baby’s things into the back of your Uber. The driver looked a little confused as to why you had so many things for a baby except for the baby yourselves, but didn’t question it. You just sat in the back with Sebastian and tried not to squeal from excitement again. You’d been reading blog after article on website after website about other people’s adoption stories and even though you weren’t trying to get your hopes up, nobody better take a baby away from you after making you come all the way to Romania.

“Passports?” Sebastian asked as you walked into the airport, looking for your airline’s kiosk station. You handed the bundle of passports to him, taking the baby carrier. “If we get separated, just meet me at the gate. We had half an hour after security, so I’ll get the coffee and you get the snacks.”

“You’ve been planning this out for awhile.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for ages upon ages for a mini-me. Go.” He watched as you printed out your boarding pass and checked in, doing the same on his own kiosk. Everything went smoothly – you went through security, got Sebastian’s favorite snacks, got your favorite snacks from the next booth over, and then met Sebastian at your gate. He’d checked everything aside from your backpacks and was sitting down, holding a carton of two iced coffees.

“I got extra espresso in yours,” he said.

“And that’s why I’m adopting a child with you.” He smiled.

“And remember. If you don’t like me after a month, it’s not like we can return it.” You scoffed.

“I could just tell customs you have a bomb in your pants.”

“You wouldn’t!” He shoved you as you took your iced coffee from him, almost causing you to spill it.

“I would after that.” You both shut up and waited for your flight to start boarding.

It was a thirteen hour long flight, and it was endless. The entire time you were getting up and down to walk around the plane, to go to the bathroom, then wander back to your seat. Sebastian took a pill and was out, but you were there, the entire time, smiling to yourself and dreaming about the baby that was finally about to be yours.

“Oh, my God,” you heard Sebastian breathe out when he stepped inside the hospital room, looking at the baby in the farthest crib to the left.

“This is Victoria,” the nurse said in a thick accent as she walked you two over there to meet her. “I understand you’re the adoptive parents?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. The baby was as beautiful as you could’ve imagined. She had blue eyes, like Sebastian’s, and that was when you knew it must be fate.

“You’re allowed to change the name, of course, if there’s something else you’d prefer.” You thought about the name and looked at Sebastian. “Would you like to hold her?”

“You go first,” you said to Sebastian, when you saw that he was actually starting to cry. You just put a hand on his back, insisting, and the nurse quickly showed Sebastian how to hold her. “I don’t know. We’ve had all this time and never even thought of a name.”

“I don’t mind Victoria,” Sebastian said, looking over at you. “Victoria…”

“Georgeta,” you interrupted. “After your mom.”

“Only if we do Elizabeth after. For your mom.” You smiled.

“I don’t know, Seba, it’s a long name.” Sebastian held the baby tightly, swinging her over to face you.

“I think she looks like a Victoria Georgeta Elizabeth Stan,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Huh?” You could see the beginning of dark hair on the baby’s head and reached your hand out. The baby gripped onto your thumb with her tiny fingers. Your heart skipped a beat again.

“Yeah,” you said. Sebastian kissed the baby’s head like he did yours. “Almost as pretty as her.”

“Almost as pretty as you.” Sebastian offered you the baby. “I’ll go sign the papers so we can go take our baby home.”

“Our baby,” you repeated. He closed the distance between you and kissed you.

“Ours.”

A/N: I hope the person who requested this loves reading it as much as I loved writing it! Like, the things I would give to have Sebastian’s children... not to be too thirsty or anything.

#sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader

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morfinwen · 3 years

Note

1 for Angela, 2 for Christopher, 3 for Reagan, 4 for Neal, 5 for Lanzo, 6 for Ash, 9 for Connie, 10 for Aidan, 11 for Q, 14 for Nate, 15 for Amanda, 19 for Niner, 20 for Elise, 23 for Julie, 25 for Jerome, 28 for Kayla, 29 for Hannah, 31 for Knife, 33 for Elarin, 37 for Meaghan, 38 for Leah, 40 for Avery, 47 for Ian, and 50 for Lauren, please!

Read more!

1. What is Angela's reaction to a minor inconvenience? Such as getting her sweater caught on a door handle?

If it’s minor enough, she’ll barely react at all. If it’s slightly more disruptive, she’ll still only react insofar as is necessary to handle it -- that is, clean up a spill, change her shirt, restack the fallen papers, etc.

Internally, Angie is rarely as calm as she acts. She puts thought into everything she does and always has an idea of where she’s going and what she’ll do next, so even a small inconvenience can throw her plans into disarray. But she learned from a very young age to control her emotional reactions: outbursts made kind people uncomfortable and gave unkind people knowledge of how to hurt her. So she keeps a very close eye on her emotional state at all times and has a list of tried-and-true methods to calm herself down: breathing exercises, a song to hum to soothe herself, little reminders to herself, an imaginary ‘happy place’ she pictures, etc.

Not that a minor inconvenience usually requires an extensive amount of calming down, of course. But enough little things can add up.

2. For Christopher, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, or other?

In the morning, coffee. Usually straight black, or with an ungodly amount of sugar. He always regrets adding the sugar, but sometimes he needs the rush.

In the evenings, tea. Green if it’s close to bedtime, but he always gets a wide variety and is regularly trying out different versions. He has preferences, but he doesn’t feel strongly enough about it to get boxes of specific types. He’ll usually add cream and honey to tea, unless it clashes with the tea’s flavor.

On winter nights, hot chocolate with marshmallows, and whipped cream on special occasions.

3. What does Reagan's safe space look like?

Her safe space is her bedroom, which is small but not cramped, somewhat messy but in a sort of organized fashion -- there might be a few dirty clothes on the floor and a mostly stable stack of clean ones on top of the dresser, but you can see the floor and aren’t likely to trip over anything. Apart from the bed and dresser, there’s a nightstand by the bed, with a lamp and a stack of graphic novels on it from the last time she couldn’t fall asleep for half the night, and an armchair in the corner with her guitar next to it. There’s a couple windows with curtains -- light, gauzy ones to let in the light, with thicker, darker ones she can pull closed to keep out city lights at night if she feels the need.

Usually after work Reagan watches TV or uses the computer in her living area, but if she’s spent too much time around people lately, she’ll go back to her bedroom and play guitar, or lay on the bed and listen to an audiobook, or read one of her graphic novels while she listens to music through headphones.

4. What does Neal consider to be an unforgivable action? Why?

Neal has a hard time with violence or cruelty towards children. If you do anything to hurt a child, or even just yell at them, he’s not going to be comfortable in your presence for a long time, even if you sincerely apologize.

5. Does Lanzo have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?

Nicknames: Not at present. Honestly he’s not really a nickname kind of guy, though sometimes his names have been long or odd enough that he just accepted people would use a nickname because it’s easier.

Pet names: His third wife Évelyne called him “mon chéri”. His first two wives weren’t close enough to him to have pet names for him, at least not ones he cared for, and his fourth wife wasn’t a pet names kind of woman. Amanda probably isn’t, either.

Aliases: Lanzo has so many aliases. He’s got a notebook where he’s got them all written down -- vampires have excellent memories, but after a couple hundred years, it can be a bit tricky to hunt down the exact memory you want without some kind of nudge. Most of them are variations on family names, but a couple (like Lanzo, for example) are just ones he liked the sound of.

He’s used a few of them more than once. The only one he’ll never use again is Alexander.

6. What kind of books comfort Ash? What books help him heal after a hard day?

Ash has to be in the right mood for poetry. A bad mood is usually the right mood, at least with the right kind of poem (nature ones, mostly). There’s an old, thick hardcover he keeps in his bedside table that’s got a lot of poems he really likes the cadence of, and he’ll often read them aloud to himself before going to bed, almost like meditation.

9. What is Connie's trigger point? What makes him angry, sad, or makes him go off?

Angry: Bad science practices. Violence against others, especially women and children.

Sad: Poor familial relationships. Ostracization from one’s community.

10. What kind of jokes make Aidan laugh?

Aidan’s sense of humor is not sophisticated -- he’ll laugh at just about anything: slapstick, puns, black humor, dirty jokes, etc. Nothing hurtful, though.

11. Does Q enjoy pranks or hate them? Is he likely to fall for a prank?

Q does not like pranks, but he’s learned to tolerate them -- one of the costs of being close with his cousin. He can fall for the more subtle pranks, or ones that rely on knowledge outside of his wheelhouse, but he’s certainly not an easy mark.

He has found enjoyment occasionally in pranking other people. He’s got a latent mean streak that comes out if someone angers him badly enough or over a long enough period, or if he’s been forced to spend too much time with his aunt and uncle recently. So his pranks have usually been a form of revenge, less fun and jokey and more humiliating or painful (though not debilitating or permanent).

14. Is Nate a simple person to please or difficult?

Deceptively difficult. He doesn’t have a lot of interest in expensive or complicated things, but though he may be satisfied with cheaper and simpler, he still has high, exacting standards for those things.

For example, Nate will be much happier if you order a pizza for dinner than if you offer to take him to a five-star “experimental” restaurant, but he has very particular ideas about what is and is not acceptable on a pizza, and a detailed hierarchy of delivery pizza joints. It might almost be easier to go with the fancier options -- at least in that case, his expectations will be lower.

15. What is the first thing people notice about Amanda?

Her green eyes. She’s always been proud of them, since she’s the only one in her immediate family who ahs them, and likes to wear makeup that highlights them or makes them stand out.

19. What does Niner consider to be her lowest point?

As noted here, Niner and Marrow, another werecat, split off from the group they were with when they started a romantic relationship. They were together for about two years, during which time Marrow became increasingly controlling and abusive. After Niner finally reached her breaking point and got out, she spent several weeks effectively on the run, avoiding other people and civilization in general out of pure fear. She’s never been that desperate or scared in her life, and she never wants to feel that way again.

20. Does Elise have a comfort item?

Not anymore, though as a child she had a tiger plushie that she never went to bed without. Bandit the Tiger is still in her house in a box somewhere -- she set him aside after college, hoping to give him to one of her children someday.

23. What is Julie's favorite food and who cooks it best?

Chicken alfredo. Kayla cooks it the best.

Kayla cooks most things the best, especially in the Allwinter household.

25. What are some things Jerome finds difficult to do? Or say?

Jerome doesn’t find it difficult to trust, per se, but it takes him a while to do it, especially with regards to his family’s -- particularly Hannah’s -- safety. Similarly it can take him a long time to warm up to people he thinks he shouldn’t trust or like, even if they don’t do anything that even hints they shouldn’t be trusted.

28. If Kayla was in today's world, what social media platforms would she avoid? Or be prominent on?

She wouldn’t have much of a presence on any social media platform, really. She’d have a Facebook (or something similar), mostly to keep in touch with friends and family, share photos, and to be a part of groups for moms and local organizations and the like. She’d almost never update her status, though.

29. Is Hannah an organized person? Or more laissez-faire?

Hannah isn’t the neatest person, but she does like organization, after a fashion. She color-codes her schoolwork, practices her music in a particular order, eats her meals one food item at a time, etc.

31. Knife has been invited to a masquerade ball. What mask does she wear?

A fox mask, like this one.

33. How does Elarin act around people she doesn't know? Is she shy around strangers or dismissive of them?

Elarin is very, very careful how much of herself she lets show around people she’s unfamiliar with. That includes how much she’s guarding herself. Unless they’re unusually observant, they probably won’t even notice her treating her friends differently.

She’s not naturally a suspicious person, but she was never the most trusting, either, and she’s learned to be much more guarded. Several years post-war, she loosens up. A little.

37. Meaghan has been kidnapped. Who has kidnapped her and how does she escape?

If Meaghan has been kidnapped, it’s almost a guarantee that she’s allowed it to happen somehow. Either she hopes to talk to the person kidnapping her, or it’s part of a bigger plan.

Jedi have a lot of enemies, particularly in her era, though the list of ones that would kidnap her rather than try to kill her is probably considerably shorter.

She could certainly escape on her own if she wanted to, or she might wait for her friends and allies to come for her, depending on the situation.

38. How does Leah unwind after a long day?

A hot meal, around the campfire at one of ‘her’ settlements or at her house in Diamond City with Mac and their boys, followed by a long, hot bath. Then she’ll sit up for a couple hours listening to the radio, or sharing entertaining stories with friends.

After that, it doesn’t matter if she goes straight to bed or has to stay up and keep watch for a few hours. So long as she doesn’t have to get up and shoot something, she unwinds almost as much from watching the stars as she does from a good night’s sleep.

40. Avery's friend has just been mugged. What's her reaction?

It depends on the friend. Someone tries to mug most of her friends, there’s probably not much left for her to do except laugh at the idiot -- assuming they’re even still alive, of course.

If for some reason her friend couldn’t handle the mugger themselves, then Avery will take it upon herself to hunt the mugger down. Considering that this means the mugger targeted someone who couldn’t properly defend themselves, if Avery tracks them down, the consequences will be worse than if the friend had dealt with them on their own. The consequences of hurting one of Avery’s friends are very, very serious.

47. What is Ian's reaction when someone does something nice for him?

Big grin, attempt to hug the person (unless it’s very clear they won’t appreciate it), “Aw, thanks!”

If it’s a big enough gesture, you can actually make him speechless. It’s happened once or twice.

50. How does Lauren sleep at night? Is she a heavy or light sleeper? Does she dream or have nightmares? Does she find it easy to sleep or is she more a night owl?

Lauren rarely has trouble falling or staying asleep. She’s a fairly heavy sleeper, but sufficiently loud thunder or other disruptive noise can wake her. She dreams occasionally, more often when she’s stressed or sick, and has had a couple nightmares in her life, again when she was really stressed or sick. She’s not a night owl, but she’s not a morning person, either.

Thanks for asking!

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sockablock · 3 years

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Chapter 12: The Petals on Her Brow

“No.”

“But—”

“No. Close your eyes.”

“This is boring! Do I really have to—”

“Yes.”

“But—"

“Yes. You do. I will not tell you twice.”

— — —

Back in the cabin, Team Regular People had set up camp in the living room.

Only about an hour had passed since breakfast, but in that time, they’d already managed to turn the couches into literary chaos. On the coffee table, stacks of atlases and maps had been supplemented—then supplanted—by the hundreds of pages of chemistry notes that Nott was supposed to be preparing for the summer semester. Jester similarly had strewn all her summer homework onto the carpet. Fjord was half-slouched in an armchair buried nose-deep in a tome titled The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, looking for all the world like would rather throw himself into the ocean than keep reading.

And as those three languished in the rigors of academia, Caleb, Beau, and Caduceus were sitting at the kitchen table, hunting for Yasha’s mystery flower. So far, they had already eliminated almost everything growing in Eastern Europe, though Caleb had been convinced for a while that the flower was liverwort.

“Its name is ‘Leberblümchen’ in German,” he said. “We used to see it in our garden.”

Beau stared critically at the page, then turned to examine Yasha’s drawing. “Your thing isn’t pointy enough,” she said. “And it doesn’t have enough of those…stringy things in the middle.”

“Liverwort is usually blue, too,” Caduceus said. “Sorry, Mister Caleb.”

He sighed. “It is fine, perhaps we should move farther south.”

Beau pulled over another book and started flipping through the pages. “Do you miss being home?” she asked idly. “I know you haven’t been back there in a while.”

She mentally kicked herself when she noticed Caleb’s smile turn melancholy.

“Oh, fuck, I didn’t mean to remind you—”

He shook his head. “No, no, it is alright, Beauregard. I do miss it, of course. In many parts. Your beer in America is piss poor, for example.”

She immediately rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you say that all the time.”

“It’s a sticking point. Oh, and your trains are very bad—”

“Ugh, I know—”

“—and none of your restaurants know what eggs and soldiers is.”

“No one knows what the hell that is.”

“I don’t,” Caduceus piped up. “What is that?”

“It is a soft egg eaten with little strips of toast. It is the only way to eat toast,” Caleb said wistfully.

“It sounds like you haven’t been back in a while.” Caduceus dipped his head. “It must be difficult, being so far from your family like that.”

“Ah.” Caleb’s expression changed. It was subtle, but the softness in his eyes went still. “That is…I do not have family there, anymore.”

“Oh, I—Caleb, I’m sorry—”

He raised his hand. “It is alright, Caduceus. You did not know. It is not, ah….”

“He doesn’t go around advertising it,” Beau said.

“Well,” Caleb huffed, though not at all angrily, “that is certainly one way to put it. And…yes, to elaborate a little more, since the rest of these people already know, I…some time ago, something happened back home and I decided to leave. It…was not an easy choice, but inevitable, I think, in some ways. And while I do miss Germany, as I said, being here, with my friends, has helped me quite a lot. I am…I find that when I say ‘I’m okay,’ lately, I mean that more and more.”

“You should’ve seen him before,” Beau grinned. “He had such a stick shoved up his ass he could barely smile—though, uh, I guess that’s not surprising since—”

She shut her mouth. She opened it.

“I’m going to go back to staring at flowers now.”

Caleb snorted. He slid another book across the table. “Here, try this one,” he said. “Plants of Italy. If it is not in here, we switch to the Americas.”

She took it. “Thanks. Here’s hoping.”

“Let’s go for another thirty minutes,” Caduceus said. “Don’t forget, it’s important to stretch and take breaks.”

— — —

“Seriously, if you don’t let me, I’ll die.”

“You will not.”

“I will. I swear, I will. I have to take a break. Ten minutes. Five minutes! Sixty seconds, at least, or I drop dead.”

From her perch on the large grey boulder that lay at the edge of the woods behind the cabin, Yasha opened one eye and saw that Mollymauk was already lying down.

He’d rolled off his log and was even in the grass. She frowned. “You are not even trying.”

“I tried, but none of this makes any sense! Sit still and try to ‘feel myself’?” He made air quotes. “Yasha, dear, if that’s what you really wanted, I definitely would not be sitting still.”

He waggled his eyebrows. She ignored him.

“Controlling your energy instinctive,” she said instead. “It is tied to our ability to see and read auras. But because you do not know how to do either, I am doing my best to explain it to you. This is the only way I know how. You are really not taking this seriously.”

“You think I’m not taking this seriously?” He scoffed. “Do you really think I would put myself through any of this if I didn’t think I had to? Need I remind you that my family was attacked by those crazy bikers as well?”

“What? They are not your family,” she blinked. “We were your family. But you left us when you fell.”

He made a show of dramatic incredulity. “Then I also need to remind you, dear, that I haven’t the faintest idea what that means. I’ve got amnesia, remember? Accidental hellfire and devilish charms aside, I really am not a demon. Not culturally.”

She frowned. “Culturally?”

“And I’d really prefer not to dwell on it,” he continued. “As far as I’m concerned, as soon as I get this ‘aura’ nonsense under control, I’m going to go home and get back to living an extraordinary, charmed, non-demonic life.”

Her frown took on a confused note. “But…you are a demon. That is that.”

“No, no, you’re not getting it, Yasha.” He rolled over and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. Whoever had this body before, maybe, maybe that person could’ve been a demon. But whoever that was, they weren’t me. They were just some stupid asshole who got buried in the earth for, for—I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t even care. Because it’s no concern of mine.”

“Er…buried?”

“Long story,” he shrugged. “Not important. What is important is that the person you see now, that person is me—Mollymauk Tealeaf. Fortune-teller, sword-spinner, lover of…well, lover. You aren’t going to get anywhere until you at least understand that. Alright?”

He rolled back over, crossed his arms on his chest.

“Besides, it seems as if—at least, from the context clues that I’ve pulled together myself—you’re missing a few memories too, aren’t you, Angel? Maybe you should try reinvention.”

Yasha was silent a moment. Eventually, “But I still know who I am. I did not lose that.”

“A pity.”

“It is…no, it is not a pity. It means I still have a purpose. And a past.”

Molly scoffed. “A past isn’t worth bragging about. The present, though, now the present is something.”

She titled her head. “Er…meaning?”

He waved a hand. “Well—well, okay, for example, can you honestly tell me that you aren’t enjoying what you have right now? In this cute little cabin? I still happen to be offended that you don’t think the carnival is my family, but you seem to have found one of your own, too. These people, here, and their delicious pancakes.”

“W—yes, the pancakes are good, but—"

“And those tiny little blueberries, delicious!” he sighed. “I haven’t had berries that sweet since…who knows?”

“You…like sweet things?” Yasha blinked. “Wait, go back, what was it that you said about family?”

“Oh, so you do care that you upset me?”

“I did?”

“Of course you did! My god, The Fletching and Moondrop might not’ve been the most functional of units, it might not’ve been the most traditional, but I certainly cared about them a lot. They found me when I had nothing, was no one. They gave me a home. They took care of me. They were my whole world, and trying to deny me that is basically like—it’s spitting in my face!”

Her gaze drifted downward. “I did not know. I am sorry.”

“Oh, cheer up, cheer up!” He scrambled upright. “You didn’t know, it’s alright, Yasha. God, have I just made an angel feel guilty? Isn’t it supposed to be your job to do that?”

Her brow furrowed. “I have been trying to do my job for two hours. I am supposed to teach you. You do not listen.”

“Because that’s boring. Sitting still is no fun.”

“I explained it already, Mollymauk. You are not just sitting still, you are centering yourself to connect with the world’s energy, then turning it inward—”

“Oh, I know! Why don’t I teach you, instead?”

She stopped. Her brow furrowed. “You…what?”

“Let me teach you something!” He clapped his hands together, eyes shining with glee. “Come on, come on, what do you say? It can be anything you like! Tarot reading!”

“No, what—”

“Alright, alright, it’s not for everyone, okay…how about sword spinning?”

She frowned. “Why would you do that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why not? It’s flashy, exciting, and you can show off your skills! What, think won’t don’t have the dexterity for it?”

Something in Yasha bristled. “I am good with swords.”

“Then prove it! I’ll go back into the house right now and fetch the glass ones, then—"

The fog cleared; she caught on. “Wait, wait. If you go in, I am sure that you will not come back out.”

He laughed, completely unashamed. “Fine, fine, how about…oh! Why don’t I teach you to make flower crowns?”

She immediately opened her mouth in protest, but for some reason, somewhere along the line, the response that came out was a semi-choked, “Huh?”

“Flower crowns!” He grinned again, sensing weakness. “Come on, it’s great if you like flowers. Don’t tell me you don’t have those in Heaven.”

“I…it is called Elys—of course we have flowers.”

“Perfect! Do you have a favorite kind?” He leaned forward. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be quick, and then I’ll absolutely pay attention to the energy stuff. Just ten minutes! Only ten.”

She wanted to argue again. She knew she had to, it was her duty, her responsibility to tell him no way, to pick him up and throw him over her shoulder and sit him up straight and threaten him until he listened…

But what she said was:

“…fine. Ten minutes, and then we start again.”

“Yes!”

— — —

“Do you think he’d look good with pink instead?” Jester let a strand of Caleb’s hair fall from her hand and back onto his shoulders. “Caduceus could probably help, too. Couldn’t you, Caddy?”

“Sure I could.”

“I don’t know,” Nott rubbed her chin. “I mean, pink, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great color—”

“Thank you.”

“—but close to the original. If we’re going to do a dye job, it should be wild.”

Caleb counted to ten. “The ‘if’ in your statement should sound more hypothetical,” he said.

“Well, it’s only if you want it, Caleb. But you know, you’d look really cool with dyed hair!” Jester gushed. “How about a streak? Like Fjord? To be stylish?”

“I’m glad you think I’m stylish,” Fjord called from his armchair, Conventions now draped across his face. “But you know I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“Right, right—”

“What, really?” Nott glanced at him. “What happened? Don’t tell me it was a prank someone pulled.”

“Why?” he grunted. “Upset you didn’t do it first?”

“Yes! Of course I am!”

He sighed, and tugged the book off his face. He ran a hand through his short black hair and found the shock of white streaking through it.

“I got it in the accident. With the shipping company, remember? That whole thing with the engine malfunction. Big storm, boat went down, but, uh, I got rescued.”

“Yeah,” said Nott, immediately relenting. “I…remember. You nearly drowned.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “I noticed this grey streak after leaving the hospital. So…either a nurse used some real strong hair dye, or…I dunno, maybe it was from the stress?”

Jester very quickly reached over and squeezed his hand.

He gave a tiny smile. “It’s alright, it’s been a while since it happened. And you know, thanks to all the bad press they got after, they had to do something for me. So…it balanced out.”

“They sent you to college,” said Caduceus, remembering. “The scholarship?”

“Yeah. And an offer to work for them again after I graduate.”

“Hell no!” screeched Nott. “Are you kidding me? After everything that happened, do they really expect you to work for them again? Or even to go out on the water?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “I really liked sailing, I…I miss it sometimes, actually. But I probably shouldn’t go back to them, that’s true.”

“What was the name of the company?” she demanded. “I’m going to leave them terrible reviews.”

“I don’t think you can do that for corporations.”

“Just give me a name, Fjord, it’ll make me feel better, if not you.”

He sighed and put his book back on his head. “U.K. Toa Shipping Industries. Have fun.”

“U.K.?” Caleb gently tugged himself free. “It is British?”

Fjord was quiet for a moment. “Huh,” he said. “You know, I don’t actually know. I always assumed so, but I guess I never asked.”

“That’s it,” Caduceus suddenly said.

They all turned.

“That’s what, Caddy?” Jester said.

“Fjord’s accent,” he grinned. He sounded incredibly satisfied. “You’re British now, aren’t you? I knew there was something different.”

A pause. Then:

“Oh my god, I completely forgot—”

“Nott—”

“That’s right! You did do that, Fjord—”

“Jester, I’m begging—”

“You told me you were Texan,” Caduceus nodded. “You talked all…twangy, before. In freshman year.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Nott all but beamed.

“I want to die,” Fjord moaned. “I want to die, it was—it wasn’t a phase, but…oh god…” He sunk down even lower in his chair.

“It’s a sweet reason,” Jester said supportively. “Real sweet.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Fjord, can I tell him?” she asked.

He vaguely waved his hand and Jester removed his book to tap him on the nose.

“Well, you see, Fjord did it partially ‘cause he was going to America and he didn’t want to stick out as the British kid. But he also did it because he wanted to remember his old captain. Vandren.”

“He was Texan,” Fjord mumbled. “And it wasn’t just, you know, remembering by itself, it was also…I dunno, I wanted to emulate him. He was…he had this way of commanding a room that just…you know.” He shifted awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t the…most confident person, before. When I was younger, especially. But putting on a mask, pretending to be Vandren, it…helped. Especially since nobody knew me here.”

Caduceus hummed his understanding, and nodded.

“What changed?”

Fjord’s cheeks colored. “Well…you know. After a while, I realized it was…pretending to be Vandren was preventing anyone from knowing me. The mask was comfortable, but it wasn’t…true.”

Caduceus smiled. “Jester was right. That is very sweet. I’m happy for you. And this accent isn’t bad.”

Fjord chuckled. “Thank you,” he tipped his book like a hat. “That is—thank you kindly, partner.”

“It’s tragic that you decided to be genuine,” Nott sighed, leaning back into a cushion. “Your southern accent was way hotter—”

“I got it!”

This outburst came from Beau, who had ended her break early to resume the search. Fjord all but threw himself out of the living room in pursuit of this new distraction.

“What?” he asked, sliding into the kitchen. “Is it a match?”

“Fuck yeah it is, look! Everyone, look!”

The rest trailed in behind him and gathered around Beau, who was practically vibrating.

“Trientalis borealis! The starflower!” she yelled. “Here it is—” she slapped Yasha’s drawing onto a page displaying a faded photo. “It’s a perfect match, seven pointed petals, a lot of yellow stringy stuff in the middle. And it’s tiny. Half an inch wide.”

“The starflower is one of the more common spring wildflowers native to eastern North America,” Caleb read, sitting down in the chair next to her. “The species name borealis refers to being from the north, although this plant is also distributed in the Midwest and the higher elevations of the southern Appalachian Mountains. Depending on latitude and altitude, starflowers generally bloom from mid to late spring into early summer.”

He leaned back, and gave Beau an amazed look. “You are right, this photo is exactly the same. You…you did it, Beauregard, that is…incredible.”

She punched the air. “Now who’s the king of nerds?! Wait, gross…”

— — —

“—little longer, you just need a second color. Something, hm…maybe blue. Or yellow. Preference?”

“P—what? Oh, uh…either is fine.”

Yasha and Molly had drifted away from their makeshift stools and into the forest, coming through the grass for summer blooms. Molly was flitting from flowerbed to flowerbed, plucking up stems and laughing when bumblebees had to spiral out of his way. Yasha had taken to sitting below a tree trunk, moving as little as angelically possible, so as to not disturb her crown.

Molly had placed it atop her head, and she could feel the petals on her brow. They were purple wildflowers. They were soft.

Yasha was always surprised by just how soft flowers could get—after all, they had to live outside all the time and there was so much danger, so much weather, it was a miracle they could grow at all. Still, it made her nervous to touch flowers; she was worried that her big, calloused hands would break them, maybe damage or ruin them somehow—

“Don’t be silly, love. You could never do such a thing.”

Yasha flinched, startled. “What?”

“Er…I just asked if you liked these,” Molly frowned. He’d flopped back down beside her and was showing off a hand of pudgy yellow blossoms. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Oh, er…yes. I am fine.” She blinked, and that whispered voice was gone. A second later, she wasn’t sure if it’d been there at all.

“In that case, look, look, what do you think?” He held the flowers up to the sun. “Nice, right?”

Yasha felt her face soften. A tiny smile crept into the corners of her mou—

“Hey, where’d they go? Yasha? Mollymauk? Where are you guys?!”

“I think I see them, through there—"

“Uh-oh.” Molly turned to Yasha and grinned. “I think we’ve been made.”

She groaned, and shut her eyes.

— — —

“—you understand how important this is?! We told you what the stakes were, I can’t believe you were picking flowers!”

“Hey! Why does everyone think I don’t understand anything? And anyway, Yasha was with me the whole time—”

“Oh, right, pin it on her, you asshole—”

“Fuck you, I’m not pinning anything on anyone—”

“Hey, hey, okay, calm down,” Fjord stepped between them and raised his hands. “Whoa, déjà-vu. Anyway, let’s just relax. Please?”

“She’s accusing me for no reason,” Molly said, hackles lowered but still with a bite.

“And he’s slacking off,” Beau glared.

“Yasha did say they agreed to take the break together,” Fjord reminded her. “And it’s the first day. It’ll take time to perfect the, uh, formula, right, Yasha?”

The three of them turned to look at Yasha, who was standing back with the rest of their friends, wearing an expression of absolute discomfort.

“Er…er…yes, right,” she said clumsily. “We just got…carried away.” She gave Beau a nervous nod. “Sorry.”

This was enough to soothe Beau’s foul mood. She sighed. “I don’t blame you, Yasha, I blame that one.” She jabbed a halfhearted thumb at Molly.

“Hey!”

“Just let her have this,” Fjord said.

“It’s not your fault,” Beau continued, ignoring them. “And—ugh, I hate being the bigger person—I get it. It’ll take time. You need breaks. I’m…sorry I freaked out.”

“Thank—” Molly began.

“Not you.”

“Well, It was worth a try.”

Yasha seemed more than relieved by Beau’s words. “You do not need to be sorry either, but thank you. And I will be more, ah, better next time.”

“Next time,” Molly grumbled. “Well, as long as she isn’t there, next time.”

“That is right,” Yasha tilted her head. “Beauregard, why did you come outside?”

From the back, Jester grinned. “Oh, Yasha, it’s so exciting!”

“That’s right!” Beau’s face lit up immediately, her annoyance at Molly all but melting away. “Guess what?”

“Er…what?”

She whipped out a book, small and bound with a soft green cover.

“I found it. Your flower.”

Yasha’s eyes widened. “You—what? You did? Where is it? What is it called?”

Her grin widened as she turned the pages. “It’s the Trientalis borealis, let me show you the picture—"

“Tren…” Yasha frowned in concentration. “The…three-foot…no, one-third—”

Beau actually laughed, then flipped the book around, pointing to a small picture beneath text. “Its common name’s ‘starflower.’ Sound familiar?”

“Star…flower.” Yasha hesitated. “That sounds…I’m not sure…”

“It would be ‘ʢƾʯɬƺƛᵿɿʑʖɕʚɬ,’ I think—” Caduceus said.

“Yeah?” Beau asked hopefully.

Yasha nodded. Her frown had vanished, and now she was staring at the book, nearly frozen, glued to the image of a little white flower. “…starflower,” she murmured. “ʢƾʯɬƺƛᵿɿʑʖɕʚɬ. You found it.”

“Hell, yes!” cheered Nott from between the others.

Yasha managed to tear her gaze away and this time, it fell on Beauregard.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “You…found it. Thank you.”

Beau’s cheeks flushed. She forced herself to stay still. “Oh, well, you know, it was…it…nothing.”

She did not resist as Yasha took the book, moving it closer to get a better look. “No, it is everything,” she said. “You did it.”

“Well—fuck, I mean, you know,” she scratched her neck and looked down, “I told you I would.”

“And you did. Thank you.”

“Now that she has found the flower,” Caleb cut in, both to Beau’s relief and disappointment, “we can start narrowing down a region. In fact, we already know from this book that the starflower is endemic to the United States.”

Yasha patiently waited for him to elaborate.

“That is, it grows near us. It is common on the east and west coasts, and is usually found in the early summer.”

He stepped forward, and with Yasha’s permission, flipped the page and showed her a map. Much of the US and Canada were blue.

She traced this with a finger. “Wait, then…does that mean I might have been in Iothia this whole time? Or right next to it?”

“That remains to be seen. It depends on how big Iothia is,” Caleb said. “And of course, again, exactly where it is. But we can use this map, and the geographical features we know, to compile a list of locations that would give you the most likely areas of Iothia.”

He gave Yasha a satisfied nod. “You are well on your way to going home, Engel.”

Her gaze fell back to the book. She turned the page to look at the flower.

Its name is ‘starflower.’ Isn’t that funny?

“Wha—why is that funny?” she said out loud.

“Hm?” Caleb cocked his head. “Why is what funny?”

She frowned. “The…name of the flower, I think. Or the…stars?”

“Actually, I was thinking that too,” Nott said. “Since, you know, you fell from the sky, right? And I guess these little flowers did too!”

Beau groaned. “So, this whole time, we were looking for a pun?”

“I think that’s irony, actually—” Fjord began.

Yasha blinked.

—and that whispered voice was gone…

When she looked up again, everyone was staring at her.

“Are you okay?” Jester asked. “You…is everything alright?”

—a second later, she wasn’t sure if it’d been there at all—

She shook her head, then realized that looked like a negative and managed to produce a weird, swooping nod.

“I am very happy,” she said quickly. “I am just…it is just a lot to take in. The flower. This…memory, it was…something important.”

Caduceus smiled. “Then it gets to be important again. This time, it’ll help you find your way home.”

Seven little petals. Bright like a star. Tiny enough to fit in someone’s hand.

She passed the open book back to Beau. She noticed Beau’s hand brush the flower.

“I…you are right,” she said, half to herself. “I think it will.”

“We all will,” Beau grinned.

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN!

#critical role #critrole #cr2 #critfic #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #woof this is a MEATY chapter #i hope you guys enjoy!!#jay writes #beauyasha #a storm is blowing in from paradise #<3333333333 #text #long post

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foreficfandom · 4 years

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Mystic Messenger - Interior Decorating Preferences (Living With MC)

— Zen —

Being a famous stage actor unfortunately doesn’t lead to heaps of cash, so even after establishing his career, Zen stayed in his garden unit for several years. You and him made the best of the place for as long as you could - brightening up the dankness with cheery lighting, making sure everything was clean - but eventually the tiny, cheap apartment wore out its welcome and the two of you decided that enough moldy air was enough.

Your new place was larger, newer, and located in a better neighborhood. Rent was more than twice the amount, which sometimes puts a strain on the books, and Zen also had to rent a separate parking space for his bike. But it was just a cheerier place. Both you and Zen began feeling the effects of a better ventilated, better lit home, and it energizes the both of you. The extra money was worth it.

While moving, Zen decided to dump most of his old furniture, keeping only the flatscreen and a table or a lamp. The new apartment was decorated with new couches and cushions, cabinets, mirrors, curtains and rugs. Zen had a surprisingly nuanced taste for interior decorating, and sought out decor with modern, smooth metal and muted grey colors.

Before, Zen lived with a mishap match of cheap furniture that clashed with each other and gathered dust as the years went by. Now, with a new place, you and Zen took the opportunity to really turn the apartment into a home.

He loved keeping the house brightly lit. Curtains were almost always drawn to let in the natural sun, and there were multiple lamps in every room to brighten up every corner. Sometimes, if a production was generous enough, Zen was allowed to take home one of the props as a gift. So the apartment was eventually decorated with several unique pieces, all mementos from his work.

He loves seeing the splashes of color dotting his brightly lit home, especially if you’re there to enjoy it with him.

— Yoosung —

It takes a while to move out of the dorms. He finishes his degree two years into you dating him, but before that point he had very little space to live in. His dorm didn’t have a kitchenette nor a shower, though luckily he didn’t have to deal with a roommate.

Any decorations he had were haphazard and cheap - a character mug for his pencil holder, a bedding set from Target, and other things typical for a full-time college student. His furniture belonged to the dorm, and there was quite a bit of clutter scattered around. Whenever you came over to visit, you would trip over things like random plastic figurines from vending machines.

After graduating, he moves back with his parents like many young people in Asia. But he really wanted a place of his own as soon as possible, mostly due to your influence. He didn’t want to awkwardly balance his family life with your availability. So after saving up from his internships, he found his first legit apartment to rent.

It was small, old, and the best he could find on such a small income. But it wasn’t bad, per se. Just needed some sprucing up. So that’s what he decided to do; actual decor, now, instead of cheap junk. Furniture from IKEA, legit bedding and curtains. It was important that you saw him as a budding adult, instead of some college kid.

He always loved bright colors and cheery imagery. Some of it kinda clashed, if you were totally honest. But he loved how it gave his home a slightly artsy twist.

And he still enjoyed his character merch, just not as vigorously as he did before. His desk was no longer covered in old acrylic keychains and plastic charms, but the tissue box on the dresser was decorated with characters from one of his favorite animes.

Above all, he loved how his space wasn’t an embarrassment to show you, anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every corner held evidence of how much he’s grown. And you were there to share it with him.

— Jaehee —

Before you came into the picture, her apartment was kinda threadbare. She spent so little of her time there, she couldn’t really decorate the space to her liking. Although her work at C&R earned her an impressive paycheck, you couldn’t see any real evidence of it amongst her home.

Except for her technology, which she was happy to splurge on. A large plasma TV, the latest Kureig model, a snazzy smartspeaker. Plus, her furniture was brand-name. If it wasn’t for Jaehee herself living there, you could almost believe this apartment was some sort of photoshoot studio - perfectly decorated and sterile.

After leaving C&R and starting a cafe with you, she finally had time to really invest in her home. And she took it by storm, not just buying tasteful wall art and coordinated throw rugs, but also contracting people to install new granite to the kitchen countertop and re-modeling the entire bathroom.

She and you had a real eye when it came to decor. It took an entire day set aside to tour furniture stores when it came time to buy new floor lamps, or accent tables. You compared prices on your phone, she agonized over color swatches and metal finishes.

And she switches up things pretty rapidly. She’ll buy these chic polished metal salt-and-pepper shakers for the kitchen, and two months later she’ll decide they’re too plain so she’ll bring home a dyed blue glass set, only to eventually think they’re too tacky.

All the colors are warm, sometimes dim and cozy, sometimes brightly lit. Antique gold and brass in the kitchen, warm pearls in the bathrooms, buttercup yellow decorating the bedsheets.

No longer was her apartment an oppressive, lonely place that money couldn’t fix. She had a home now; under her feet, and also within you.

— Jumin —

Now, the images of Mystic Messenger don’t give us the full tour of Jumin’s skyline penthouse studio, but if they did we’d all be shook. ‘Cause his place is no fucking joke, its literally one of the top ten most expensive homes of South Korea.

It’s located atop an 85-floor skyscraper, and takes up the entire floor with a 20,000 square feet span. It boasts four bathrooms, two kitchens, three separate lounge areas, and crazy expensive architecture. That vertical fish tank next to his Wyoming-size king bed is only the beginning of the luxury that surrounds this man’s abode.

Even after months of living with him, Jumin surprises you by pointing out some decadent part of the apartment you had missed. Like the jacuzzi settings on one of the bathtubs, or how the massive span of windows can be tinted using a remote. He had lived the life of a millionaire for so long, he got used to these sorts of things.

You, on the other hand, are constantly charmed and even overwhelmed by the decadence. Half the wine in his personal cellar cost more than your college tuition. You couldn’t help but just, lap up this ridiculous palace, at times. It was really something to wake up to carved marble tiles, crystal lamps, and designer furniture every day.

When you moved in, Jumin soon began considering buying a larger place, because to him the massive studio was ‘too small for two people’ and you had to quickly stop him before he bought a literal estate. True, the interior decorating had already been carefully furnished with only Jumin as the sole resident in mind, but bit by bit, your personal touches began gracing his home.

Like your closet became your closet, both lounges were slowly re-decorated with your own personal tastes in color and decor, your little knick-knacks found their way upon bookshelves and countertops, Jumin’s luxury dishware now included your favorite decorated mugs and cute kitten ramen bowl.

And those touches are what finally made Jumin feel like his apartment was a home. All the luxury in the world couldn’t buy this coziness.

— Saeyoung —

The man is a dirty, rowdy boy who pays almost no attention to maintaining his habitat. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an aesthetic, though. He buys the top-of-the-line technology with colored LED lights and polished marble surfaces. There’s so much color surrounding his bunker, you can almost forget you’re twenty feet underground.

Seriously, sometimes it’s like a rave. His triple-door smartscreen fridge is lit with deep blue blacklights, his bathroom mirror is backlit with a chrome rainbow spectrum that shifts colors, the ceiling light of his bedroom is this big circular fixture that mimics different planets with a push of a remote.

But he only pays attention to decor he’s interested in. So when it comes to his couches, his dining table, his bedframe? He just outsourced it to designer brands and picked the most generic, modern-style ones they had. To keep it even more simple, it’s all a boring black color. And many of it is part of the same collection - you noticed that the dining chairs, the coffee table, and the barstools are all the same design.

And no, he’s doesn’t clean after himself. He really doesn’t have the heart nor time to, especially before meeting you. So there’s food crumbs in the crack of his office chair, loose clothing in random places on the floor and tossed over chairs, and product bottles thrown haphazardly amongst the bathroom.

When you came into the picture and saved him from the agency, his work racketed down by a huge margin. No more working 52 hours at a stretch without sleep, no more entire weeks spent fearing for his life if he didn’t finish a job. This left more time and energy to step it up a bit and stop being such a slob. Mostly for your sake, if he was being honest.

Almost all of the fancy tricked up stuff in his apartment was his own doing. And once he had more free time, there was even more of it. So enjoy your voice-activated desk lamp with bluetooth and 30 different color settings, that was just an afternoon project and he’s got something even better for the two of your’s anniversary!

— Saeran —

Unlike his brother, Saeran actually values cleanliness and a good living space. Partially due to his bad immune system and how a clean environment can make a big difference in his health, and partially because that’s just the kind of guy he is. He had his own room in Mint Eye, which was tastefully decorated under his own hand with antiques and art statement pieces. Decorating his room was one of the few opportunities he had to express himself.

Once he escaped Mint Eye and began living with you, it took many months to regain some assemblance of a normal daily life, and one of the first steps was to retrofit his living space into a safe, encouraging home.

With your help, the two of you planned out everything with the intention of creating a haven of sorts. He still wanted his antique aesthetic and romantic colors, but now there was technology that encouraged communication with the outside world. Now, the curtains were pulled to reveal an exciting, open world right on the doorstep.

The antique interior complimented his flowers very well. ‘Cause flowers and plants are a constant fixture in the home. Sometimes, its cut flowers arranged in a Regency-era glass vase, but mostly they’re potted flowering plants. Huge ones in the living room, or tiny ones on accent shelves, or the several window planters you and he maintained with love and care.

As he regained his confidence, the apartment showed his progress. He began going out to buy things on his own, without needing you to accompany him. And the things he brought back were sometimes ... weird, but oddly charming, like a mounted authentic Viking drinking horn, or a framed poster of a map from a fantasy video game.

He just ... enjoyed these odd things. His life was so free now, which meant he could go out and be weird and enjoy these weird things without anything holding him back. You proudly displayed all of these trophies, all evidence of Saeran’s healing.

— Jihyun —

It’s canon that Jihyun’s apartment in-game was mostly fitted to Rika’s wishes, not his own. We don’t really see it, but if the photo panned out more we’d see pale, birchwood accents and light linen fabric. Everything bright, and lit with white lights. Almost all of it Rika’s influence.

When he and you found a new apartment, Jihyun wanted to take this opportunity to establish himself more, this time. So instead of that pure, untouched look, he added more color in washes of warm leathers, brushed metal, and natural lighting.

It was worldly, for lack of a better term. Lots of mementos from his time traveling, all adding dimension to the living space. A woven Navajo basket from New Mexico, a large print replica of a page from the Book Of Kells, a bronze modern art sculpture from an emerging Indian artist.

And the furniture themselves were uniquely artistic, too. Jihyun one day brought home new earthy-brown decorative cushions, bought from a company that produced textiles dyed using food waste scrap. He went to a warehouse auction for authentic, obscure antiques, and graced the living room with a richly red bubinga-wood rocking chair from 1950′s Germany.

Funnily enough, as graceful of a man he is, he can sometimes be a bit too tacky in his choice for decor. He tried to argue for fake exposed-brick wallpaper as an accent wall, which you had to shoot down. More than once, he showed you a new art piece about to be sold at a new gala that he wanted to go bid for, and the particular piece was just ... too esoteric or even gaudy to be displayed.

Jihyun just loved to feel like he could be himself. And he loved how you encouraged this new life of his. An actual home, now, free from his family or Rika. True love can only blossom under freedom, and that’s what this home represented for him.

#mystic messenger imagines #mysme imagines #mystic messenger #zen mysme #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim

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likeshipsonthesea · 4 years

Text

post script poetry

okay i’m going to preface this with a lot of rambling so buckle up my dudes

i started this i don’t know how long ago when i saw a post about how fun it would be if dex ended up being the one to wax poetic about nursey and i saw it and thought the only way that would happen would be by accident, like if he was complaining and started getting mushy

so i wrote this. like, half of this. and then tonight i found it and i liked it and finished it. so here you go. and yes, i did this instead of fulfilling the hozier prompts. sorry not sorry?

Hey Lardo,

I attached my schedule for the week of the 15th. Depending on how long you need me, I can also work this week. I know the sculpture doesn’t have to be done until the end of the month, but I also know how you get close to a deadline. Let me know if any of the free times work for you-- if not, we’ll figure something out.

Dex

P.S. I was going to text this, but since I’m typing I might as well tell you that there’s a horrifying new regular at the café. Every time he comes in he orders something so convoluted and complicated that he has to be fucking with me, and the drinks are so damn sweet he must need to see a dentist every weekend. He walks in with this stupid fucking smirk on his face too, like he derives joy from ruining a perfectly nice--okay well not nice but I’m perfectly civil to customers at least-- barista’s day.

He’s come in consistently for three weeks now. Pray for me.

P.P.S. Did I mention that he’s taken to sitting at a table with nothing but his stupid sweet drinks and a journal for hours on end? Sometimes he’ll buy a muffin and try to talk to me, like I’m not fucking working. Asshole.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

5 on Wednesday works for me. Should I bring anything aside from the regular tools?

Dex

P.S. It doesn’t matter if he’s attractive but since you asked, yes, but only in the way that statues are attractive. They’re carved and perfected and gorgeous, yeah, but when you look at them you’re admiring it, idolizing it-- your own inferiority is entangled in the attraction.

P.P.S. And no, I’m not telling you his name.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

Sorry to hear about the issues with the sculpture. The earliest I can come for emergency repairs would be tomorrow after work. Hope it holds together until then.

Sorry,

Dex

P.S. This seems to be a theme in our emails, but I’m mentioning this only because it literally just happened. The horrible regular was just here in a sweater and jeans. A sweater and jeans. It’s fucking snowing. Below freezing, high teens, stupid kind of cold, and the guy left his jacket home for what? To show the world how pretty he looks in that sweater? The asshole probably looked in the mirror and thought that people noticing how the green in the sweater enhanced the fucking tree top, sea-glass shiny green of his own eyes was more important than not getting frost bite. And he looked so fucking proud of himself too, smiling all big and wide and stupid like his lips weren’t chattering! And then he stayed in the shop forever, obviously, because he can’t go out in the cold wearing nothing and he just sat there and wrote in his stupid journal and looked over at me with his fucking budding-leaves-at-the-beginning-of-spring eyes like he knew how infuriating he was. That kind of stupidity just pisses me off.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

Was going through my messages and saw the last thread. How are the repairs holding up?

Dex

P.S. Shut up.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Glad the emergency repairs are holding. The piece looks great so far, I can’t wait to see the finished product at the end of term.

Dex

P.S. I’m not going to fuck an asshole just because he’s pretty.

P.P.S. Don’t bring up the LAX bro.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

My phone crapped out in the middle of a shift so I’ll be communicating via email for the next few days. I’ve got a bunch of leftover muffins from work. Want me to drop by the studio on the way home?

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

I’ll grab all the banana nut and any double chocolates that look good. See you soon.

Dex

P.S. Just because we’re on email doesn’t mean you have to ask about my horrible regular. But yes, to answer your question, he is still a regular and maybe a little less horrible, thank God.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Okay, I’ll get some blueberry ones for Shitty too.

Dex

P.S. Well, he’s less horrible because his orders-- while still stupidly complicated and overly fucking sweet-- have narrowed down to one of two options, so I know what they are now. When he lists off all of the stupid steps, I can just ignore him and stare at nothing, or how he gestures with his hands when he speaks and barely avoids knocking over the tip jar. I guess it’s nice that he talks with his hands, though, because sometimes when he’s sitting at a table and writing his hands start shaking and I much prefer the gesturing to that.

Also he seems to have decided to wear a coat for the foreseeable future, and even if it’s this deep green pea coat that probably cost more than what I make in a month, it looks good on him-- aesthetics and functionality, at least he’s compromising. It’s like cut or whatever, so you can still see the line of his waist, tight to his chest and everything. And he has a matching beanie that doesn’t seem that warm, but he tugs it down just over the tips of his ears and a few of his curls above his forehead poke out of it, all soft looking and stuff. He still needs gloves though.

But, I guess, overall he’s less horrible.

*~*~*

Lardo,

The sculpture looks great! And with the deadline still a week away you have a bunch of time to do all your last little nit-picky things.

Dex

P.S. Okay reading over that last post-script I do sound a little mushy, but in my defense I was coming off a double shift and I’d had a big deadline for CS the night before and I definitely wasn’t all there. This cannot be held against me.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Just because you put it in the P.S. doesn’t make it okay. I am not In Love with anyone, especially not the guy who writes poetry on the twenties he leaves in the tip jar.

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

Why does that matter?

Dex

*~*~*

FINE some of it was other people’s stuff-- I googled it and some were Emily Dickinson I think? Some of the lines didn’t return anything, so I guess they were original? Anyway it doesn’t matter-- he’s defacing money.

Dex

*~*~*

Your idea of romantic is weird.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

I can’t get my phone fixed until Sunday, but I wanted to double check that your show is on Saturday at 7:00PM?

Thanks,

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

Thanks for clarifying.

Dex

P.S. Actually yeah, I guess there was an update, or whatever.

So he came in with a book last night, late. Not a lot of people come by the cafe at night, obviously, so it was just me and him, and he was there for a while but then we were closing. I went over to tell him we were closing in a few minutes and he asked if I’d sit with him for a few minutes and, well, he’s a nice tipper, so whatever. I did.

And then-- I shit you not-- he started reading me poetry. Actually. Just started reading poetry to me out of nowhere. He’d gesture with his notebook as he did it, his eyes were all lit up like treetops at sunrise or something and his voice just filled up the whole shop, like it was bouncing off the walls and going through me and shit, like he was trying to make me listen in my soul or something. And, like, I’m shit at poetry and I didn’t really get what it was supposed to be, but you know when you hear a song and even without really hearing the lyrics it makes you feel some kind of way? That’s what it did.

Then he stopped reading and asked me what I thought and I couldn’t just say that it made me feel things so I said that the guy in the poem sounded kind of obsessed, and then the guy-- the regular-- laughed, like a full bodied laugh, his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook and he tucked the notebook against his chest, against his heart, and laughed in public, in front of a stranger, like it wasn’t weird. And you know when something good happens? Something unexpectedly good? Your favorite song comes on the radio or you find a random twenty in your pocket or you catch the sunset on your walk home and its pretty and warm and just makes you smile and think, huh, I’m glad I get to be here for that.

That’s what his laugh felt like. I know it’s fucking sappy but it’s the only way I can come up with to describe it.

Anyway. See you Saturday.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Yeah.

I’m fucked.

Dex

*~*~*

Hey, fuck, I’m so sorry about last night. My phone is still fucked up otherwise I’d call you but your friend-- the one in your painting, Nursey-- he’s my horrible regular.

Small campus, huh?

He was a little drunk-- he kept drinking the champagne for some reason, I think it was to stop his hands shaking, I don’t know-- but I didn’t want to just send him off alone so I helped him back to his dorm and as I was taking off his shoes he kept reciting poetry or whatever and he was drunk, yeah, but he said it so nicely and he kept looking at me with his ridiculous eyes and then he touched my cheek-- like actually fucking caressed my cheek-- and I kissed him.

And I know he was drunk, I tasted the champagne when I kissed him, and I felt horrible and I ran out of his dorm and-- then I fell asleep and woke up and wrote this email.

So, I probably fucked up beyond repair and if you need me I will be kicking myself for the next fifty years. Thanks, goodbye.

Dex

P.S. I forgot to say-- the show looked great. The sculpture, the art, everything. You’re amazing, dude.

*~*~*

Thanks for his number, but I can’t just call the guy out of the blue and say, “Hey, sorry for kissing you when you were all drunk, won’t happen again, please keep tipping me?”

Also, I still don’t have a working phone.

*~*~*

That’ss the problem with falling in love with a stranger, youknow? Like, I never mett the guy really, I just made his stupid sweet coffee drinks and listened to his poetry that one time and stared too much when he talked with his hands and at his stupid eyebrows-- how do eyebrows look soft?? It makes no sense

And he’s beautiful, you know, like can’t stare too long or you’ll go blind, and I felt like he was a good person youknow, an asshole but good, the kind you want. And I could feel it he would probably argue with me over everything but I think I could likee that, like arguing, at least with him, because I know it wouldn’t be out of anger or whatever, he would be coming from a place of understanding or shared values or whatever

and i fucking KNOW that I can’t know all this frm looking at him, but he had his stupidd fucking g journal that he scrippled in all the time and his hadsn were covered in ink with notes to himself and I want to be the person who egts to listen to his poetry at 2 in the morning and watch him ramble about things he loves and tell him how fucking good his writing is because it IS lardo it’s so good, he’s so good, i never spent any of those twenties witb his writing on it i hung them in my dorm isnt’ that fucking stupid god i love him, i love him and I don’t even know him

Love scuks.

P..S yeah, if you couldnt tell, i’m a little drunk. oops

*~*~*

Dear Lardo,

It’s very rude to forward drunken, rambling emails about someone to that someone without the consent of the drunken rambler.

Dex

P.S. Thank you.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #dex #william poindexter #nursey #derek nurse #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #do i have a tag for non-prose fic?#who knows #anyway enjoy #i very much enjoyed stumbling upon this #and finishign it #i feel like i never finish things sometimes #also if you're wondering the drunk bit was just me typing #and not correcting my typoes #lol

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years

Text

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 4)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Homelander didn’t realize that getting Carly to the Vought tower was only half the battle.

Her apartment complex was small, but in a cozy kind of way. She got lucky with the expanse of square footage the landlord had offered her, considering that she had seen other apartments and hers was the biggest in the building. At first, it was all concrete floors, scratchy wall paper, and a broken sliding glass door onto the balcony, but once she started making more money, renovations came into play. With Carly’s creative expertise, the place was a fun house in not time.

The floors now were sandalwood and the walls painted a darker beige, where the longest wall was left a solid white, covered in doodles and painted pictures that she had spent hours on. She opened up the room to expand the windows out, now they spanned around a corner of the living room. The living room opened up at the entrance, where an L-shaped sectional with brown leather graced her guests as they entered. Off to their left would be a wall with an entertainment center and a flat screen tv, to their right the crimson granite counter tops that stood with bar stools, on the other side a kitchen of that counter. Aside from the hallway that led to her room, her apartment was fairly open, lots of seating areas because she liked variety. There were bean bags and stools for her bar, which had an array of liquors that she had saved up over the years. Her kitchen was closed in by the counter, an island in the center, with a dual sided refrigerator that she also had worked her ass off to get.

It was fairly lit, but sometimes she liked to dim the lights and turn on a flashlight to read her books with, as she cuddled into a giant bean bag. In her bedroom was a king sized bed, with tons of pillows, that was her favorite part of the apartment. She often drew pictures and played on her guitar in there, that was her safe space, where no one could bother her.

Across from her lived a rough looking, older man by the name of Billy Butcher. He was rowdy, single, and he had the cutest dog she had ever seen. They didn't spend time together or anything, but they certainly talked more with each other than they did with the other residents. Down the hall was a fresh frat boy/jock, and across from him was a single mother and her two kids. Billy and Carly felt more alike, more drawn to each other, so whenever they just so happened to cross paths they would share a few words.

"Ey, I listened to your show today, definitely sticking one up to those cunts."

"Right?! They deserve it." They both shared laughs, cracked jokes, were extremely profane, and even a little too open with each other at times. Carly and Butch were similar in that they didn't have a sensor, so God forbid the two of them were ever together for a few minutes in passing. That poor mother had to shield her childrens’ ears in the elevator more than a few times.

"Can you bloody believe that they even stretch that far?"

"I don't even want to imagine that happening to anyone, not even me."

"Well, its a bloody process I am sure..." Naturally, as they crossed paths, the two of them spoke that night before she went to the lab. She was grabbing a few things, Allen and the Doctor waiting outside in the car. As she shut her door, jiggling the key with a twist, jacket slung over her shoulder, he was also exiting his apartment.

"Oh, well, what do you know? My favorite celebrity." He teased, she faced him with a grin and an eye roll.

"Oh look, my favorite asshat." She mocked in the worst cockney accent she could muster.

"You shut your pretty mouth there, those are fighting words." They started towards the elevator with laughter bubbling up from them, cheeks rosy, God it would be a sickening sight to anyone. The two of them were like peas in a pod, munchkins, cuddle buddies or some shit like that. "So, where are ya' off to tonight?" He pressed the button to the elevator for her.

"Some stupid shit with Vought, you know me."

"I like stupid shit. Does it have anything to do with your show this evening?" The doors slid open with a ding.

"Sure does, between you and me..." She came in closer to whisper into his ear, exhaling a giddy giggle behind a cupped hand. "I am breaking into a Vought Lab." He smirked, shaking his head, but never in disapproval as much as it was at the ridiculous stunts she'd pull. The door slid shut, the both of them now completely alone in an elevator. Nothing much different than the hundreds of times before.

"You think you'd have any time for drinks afterwards?" She blushed at the question, just drinks, right? No, she felt like the question was more than that and the way he awkwardly leaned on the elevator wall, said so much. As if he was nervous she would say no, or something worse.

"I'd love to, but I don't know when I will be back." He nodded his head, fiddling with his thumbs out in front of him. "But hey, how bout tomorrow for sure?" His face lit up with that shit-eating grin of his.

"Yeah, I'd like that." The elevator doors dinged open, but Billy didn't make a move when Carly stepped from the elevator. She faced him with her own grin and smiled, he waved at her. "You be careful there, sweetheart, some of us like seeing your ugly face every day." As the doors slowly began to close she stuck her middle finger up at him, and he stuck his tongue out. Children at best, that's always what it seemed like when they were together. When he was gone and they were apart, always after seeing each other, Carly felt empty almost, like she was missing out. She always shoved that away.

"Ms. Danvers! Are you going to answer me?!" An aggravated Madelyn shot out from across the desk, Carly blinked her eyes, coming to from her daze. She met Stillwell's steely gaze, Homelander pacing around the desk, eyes targeted on Carly in some threatening fashion.

"W-What-What did you ask again?" Madelyn groaned, straightening herself and plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she crossed her fingers over the desk.

"Did anybody else know you were going to the lab last night?" She stated more firmly, pronouncing each word with venomous emphasis, as if she was talking to a three year old child.

"No." Carly responded instantly, perhaps too soon, as Homelander's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. He was surprised. Carly had always been fairly good at lying to him, better than most, but she was in an emotional vulnerable state, not on her A game truly. Madelyn rolled her eyes and then sat back in her seat, arms crossed.

"You do know the position, you've put me in, right?" Carly sighed, shakily holding her hands on her lap, she gulped.

"Look, I just want to get back to normal."

"Back to normal?" Madelyn chuckled at the thought, she stood up and waltzed around the desk over to the window that spanned the wall of her office. Homelander stopped pacing at the other side of the room, still watching Carly like a hawk. "You are as powerful as Homelander now, Danvers, there is no normal for you ever again." She twisted in her seat to consider Madelyn with sorrow filled eyes, and Homelander couldn't hide his deep huff of amusement. Carly tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill, she had never felt so weak or insignificant in front of anybody before. Heck, she'd stand up to Homelander any day before this shit happened. Now she wanted to hide in a cave and wallow in her own self pity.

"Maybe there is a way, right? The doctor told me its genetic modification, all we have to do is convert my DNA back to what it was officially."

"But you would die." Homelander said with sardonic glimmer in his tone, he shuffled around the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch. His arm rose up, spanning the length of the back rest. He held his other gloved hand up, crushing his fist into a ball. "It blows my mind that you would want to be normal again, Carly. You have all the power in the world-"

"And I don't want it." She shot out, frustration taking residence over the desperation and she stood. She held her palms out and shook her head. "This isn't who I am. I am a simple girl, made of flesh and bone, nothing more." Homelander opened his mouth to reply, but Stillwell beat him to it.

"You are right, you are absolutely right. And I might just have some options for you, Danvers." Madelyn paraded back over to her desk, perhaps she was having more fun with this than she expected she would. When Homelander told her about Carly’s situation, Stillwell was pissed beyond explanation. Here she was wanting the girl dead, and now the only person that could truly make that decision themselves was Homelander. Madelyn knew Homelander wouldn’t kill Carly, at least not without riding this high first.

"I have two options for you..."

"I don't have time for games. This isn't a joke." Stillwell laughed, leaning onto her desk with one hand, the other propped on her hip.

"I'm not so excited about this either, but this might just be good for us."

"Whatever you have to say, it better not be what I think it is."

"It better be what I think." Homelander stood, soon coming to stand alongside Carly with that grin.

"Option one," She placed a hand on her chest, "My preference..." She added slyly, and then, "We pretend you died from the fire, get you a nice place in Alaska and you live the rest of your days in solitude." Stillwell patiently waited, as if there wasn't a second option, and if there was she definitely didn't want Carly to have the ability to choose.

"What's the second option?" Homelander's voice was all too solid, glaring at Stillwell, forcing her to procure that second option like her life depended on it. It probably did.

"Alright," Stillwell sighed, "We make you a hero. You denounce your previous claims against Vought and in return you live more famous than you've ever imagined." Since Carly woke up that morning, there was a stray thought that constantly teased to slip past her lips. The knowledge that she had against Vought, she could fight them, and now, more powerful than ever, she could fight them hard. Compound V was real, she was proof of that, all the heroes were. The compound injected into babies as if they were lab rats, the thought made her sick. She was reminded of why she was here, how she ended up in that lab. Now being offered a chance to be one of them, knowing all the cruel things they've done, if anything it made her heart race.

Homelander must have felt it too. The feeling made her want to do something but she didn't even know what. Impulses working through her mind, the need to just jump out that window, the realization that nothing can kill her now. Perhaps Homelander, but still. The options before her, and she had always been one to make an option three, to force it. Now there was no choice, one or the other, they say. Homelander’s hand landed on her shoulder and he laughed, harshly patting her on the back, a pat that would have anybody else coughing up their broken bones.

"She'll do it, option two. She'll be wonderful!"

"I would like her to say it." Stillwell didn't like the feeling of not having control. Although for so long Homelander had been loose, the reins were gone, this was still different. She hated knowing that Homelander wanted Carly around and that she couldn't do anything about it.

"Okay." Carly found herself choking out, despite her better judgment. She didn't know what logic came with the response, but she knew that it felt sound. Like something was in her path, something big, like it was worth it, like the universe was talking to her.

"Perfect." Homelander said with such joy in his voice, now both hands on her shoulders, massaging at her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed him to shake her forward and backward for a moment.

"I will work with my marketing team. Until then, Homelander can keep an eye on you." Stillwell hated that too, but the girl had zero to no control over her powers. Carly could destroy this whole building and without Homelander around, there would be no one to stop her.

"I've been waiting for this moment. So exciting..." Both women glared at each other, both for different reasons. "And I have already picked a name." Stillwell crossed her arms, cocking her head at Homelander, trying to hide the agitation surging through her. The level of absolute excitement he was feeling struck a nerve in Stillwell, the hero was crossing a big line.

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Lady Liberty." He held his hands up like the name was gospel, like it was the most obvious name, the most fantastic name. Carly admitted to herself the fact that he even thought of a name was extremely unsettling, like this had been his plan all along. "Come on guys, get with the program." He waltzed over to the office door, now fixed after yesterday's door slamming incident. He waited, gesturing to Carly as he motioned out the door. "Let's go. Come on, the more we wait, the less time you have to learn those new powers of yours." Carly didn't think she'd ever beg in her life, but as she left Stillwell's office, that last glance to Stillwell was full of silent, raw begging. The last person she'd thought she'd ever beg for help, beg for a plan, beg for safety from him. But both of them knew, Homelander was not letting Carly go anytime soon. Carly made her choice, the moment she entered that lab.

#homelander x ofc #billy butcher x ofc #Billy Butcher #homelander #the boys #vought #the seven

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wandas-sunshine · 4 years

Text

The Muses Dance - Part 2

Summary: Steve is a fine arts major, (Y/N) is a dance major. Their meeting wasn’t supposed to be anything big, but Steve is sure he’s found his new muse, and (Y/N) is suddenly convinced that maybe she doesn’t have to choose between her career and a relationship.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 6287

Warnings: Shitty parents, description of an anxiety attack, mentions of family death

A/N: The outfits mentioned are linked here; (Y/N) Maria Natasha. This took a very long time. I ended up splitting it in half so if the ending feels a little awkward that’s why. The original chapter was unfinished and already nearing 10k words. So Part 3 is coming very soon.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist

Two weeks had passed since the fateful day that Steve and (Y/N) met. Since then, the two had spent nearly every possible moment together. Even when Steve wasn’t working on his project, he hung around (Y/N). The two of them had fallen easily into a nice sort of routine.

After their classes finished each day, Steve would sit in on the girls' showcase rehearsals. He curled up in the corner with his sketchbook, drawing (Y/N) in all of her angelic glory. The girls all noticed, he wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think. But she never said anything. She didn’t want to make him think he should stop. Honestly, she much preferred that he continue, it was flattering having all of his attention on her.

So they played their little game, day after day. The girls would finish their rehearsals, and (Y/N) would practically skip to his side. She knelt beside him, and drank down the rest of the water from her bottle.

“Whatcha drawing there, handsome?” She asked. As always, he snapped the little book shut and smiled the way that made her stomach flutter. She’d always rearrange her things in her bag so she wouldn’t just sit and stare at him.

“Nothing special. Just passing the time.” He answered. That was always his answer, and she never bothered pressing for a better one. He slipped his things back into his bag, then he’d settle it on his back. As soon as her things were put away, he was scooping that up too. Over the first week of their friendship, she had tried to change his ways. She was strong enough to carry her own bag, she had said, but he insisted that he was raised to always help a lady. Her initial confusion, the surprise, was giving way to a sort of appreciation of his chivalry.

Like every other day since she’d met Steve, (Y/N) was the first to leave their rehearsal rather than leaving hours after her friends. They bid the other girls goodbye and set off on their way towards the visual arts building. Some days she would chatter excitedly about her number, high off the post-workout endorphins. Other times Steve would take the lead, passionately telling her about his progress on his piece. On rare occasions, they wouldn’t say anything at all.

Today was one of those quiet days. Steve wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but those were his favorite days. He adored listening to her talk, loved watching the way her eyes gleamed with pride. But these days were special. On quiet days he got a little glimpse into a more intimate part of her world. She was always in her head, and that was his favorite time to admire her.

She was so adorable, so charming, even when she wasn’t trying to be. As they walked, it would sometimes become obvious that she was still rehearsing in her head. Her eyes would close for a few moments longer, or her body would move ever so slightly to some unheard melody. There were a million other things he’d picked up on too. Like the way her nose would scrunch up if one of them fell out of step with the other. Or how she practically did a little dance to avoid the cracks in the pavement somedays. He figured that was another one of her superstitions. He’d learned plenty of those too. Wearing blue on wednesdays would bring bad luck in performance. Dancing in the rain would guarantee a well received performance. Drinking coffee the day of a performance meant the performer would get injured. They were strange, but she believed them wholeheartedly.

The way he was so content just to be at her side, even if she paid him no mind, was a bit worrisome. He was in deep with this one. He’d only fallen so hard once before, and that hadn’t ended so well for his heart. But this...this was different. It had to be.

When they reached the proper building, (Y/N) excitedly took the lead. She had learned her way around the building, thanks to a tour from Steve. She walked towards the studio that they worked in. She didn’t model for him, he didn’t need her to anymore. She just enjoyed being there, having some company, and Steve never turned her away.

She nudged the door open and flicked the lights on. Steve was only a few steps behind her. They settled into their respective places. Steve set up his space, turning on lights and laying out his materials. She curled up on the floor with her book. That was always where she ended up, getting comfy with a good book, or her homework, or sometimes she’d just sit and watch.

It was adorable the way he got when he worked. His tongue would poke out sometimes, or he’d mumble frustrated criticisms to himself. Pencils would find themselves tucked behind his ear, paint brushes ended up propped between his teeth. His long sleeves usually got pushed out of the way to reveal toned, doodle stained forearms.

And every time she noticed something new, she wondered just how many people had been observative enough to to pick up on the little quirks, the doodles, the smudges of paint. She wondered if anyone fell for them the way that she was.

“Anyone in there?” Steve asked, waving a hand in front of her face. She gave a surprised blink. She hadn’t noticed that he’d packed everything away and tidied his space back up. “Earth to (Y/N), come in (Y/N).”

She scrunched her nose and swatted his hands away. According to the digital clock on the wall, afternoon had given way to evening. The pale light of the setting sun seeped through the window shades and gave the entire room a beautiful pinkish glow.

“Shit, I must have totally zoned out.” She laughed, carefully putting her book into her bag and letting him take it from her.

“I swear if you’re still overthinking the showcase,” He gave her a stern look and she shook her head. He reached a hand down and she let him pull her to her feet.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just a little out of it today.” She promised. She stretched her arms up over her head, then swooped them back towards the ground, sighing as the muscles in her back pulled and loosened a little. “Don’t start worrying about me now.”

The walk back to her dorm was more interesting. Steve rambled with a new excitement about the progress the past few hours had provided. He lit up like a little ball of sunshine when he talked about art. He always had a passionate glimmer swimming in his sea blue eyes, it was the most amazing thing in (Y/N)’s humble opinion. She wondered if she ever looked so lovely.

“It’s really coming together.” He gushed. “And that’s mostly thanks to you. It’s looking so great! Obviously it’s not perfect, but it’s better than I thought it could be. I’m almost done, too! Might even finish it with time to spare.”

She had nearly stepped into the way of a biking student. Steve gently pulled her back on track.

“You think any of that is thanks to me?” Her voice was laced with disbelief. She hadn’t done anything but let him draw her, and several other girls had done the same thing for the exact same piece. If anything, she had been a bit of a hindrance what with her rehearsals, and her usual chatter while he worked. But his expression didn’t falter.

“Of course it’s thanks to you.” He spoke as if it were as obvious as if she’d done the art herself. “Really, I mean it. You’re my muse. Seeing you dance gave me a whole new perspective. It reminded me what it was like to really care about my art. I wanted to make people feel the same way seeing my art as I do watching you dance.”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She confessed quietly. She shook her head before looking up at him again. None of it made sense to her, she really wasn’t all that, but it definitely felt nice to hear him say it. “I’m glad I can help. Even if I’m not really doing anything.”

They talked the rest of the way to the dorms, and when they came to a stop outside her door as they always did, Steve went quiet. (Y/N) tipped her head.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked as she tugged the strap of her bag off his shoulder. He shook his head.

“Nothing, just thinking about stopping by Buck and Tasha’s place before I go home.” He passed her bag back to her and she hoisted it onto her shoulder. Her eyes flickered down to her shoes.

“Then you should get going. Don’t let me keep you out all night.” She looked back up and smoothed her hand over his shoulder, brushing out the little wrinkles her bag had left in his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Same time?”

Blue eyes flicked across her face as she fixed his jacket, then he smiled at her. For yet another night, he imagined kissing her goodnight. Imagined dipping down to catch her soft lips with his, holding her against him until he pulled away and brushed her hair back. But he couldn’t do that. So instead he nodded.

“Same time tomorrow. Have a good night.”

As always, he waited for her to safely step inside and close the door behind her. Then he turned with his sights set on Bucky’s apartment, and his mind dancing with lovesick fantasies.

The walk was short and fairly quiet aside from the sounds of traffic. Natasha would probably beat his ass for walking the city alone after dark, but he was fully capable of protecting himself. He had bigger things to worry about.

Steve rapped impatiently at the door. On the other side, Bucky pried himself off of Natasha who was maybe even angrier than her boyfriend at the interruption. She leaned up, peppering kisses along his jaw.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away.” She pleaded, running her hands down his bare chest. She was sure she’d convinced him to return his attention to her. It was probably just their neighbour looking for his cat again. Then came the knocking once more. This time it was louder and more persistent. Bucky groaned, burying his face in the crook of Natasha’s neck.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He shouted, giving Nat a quick look. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and tugged them on before stalking to the front door. He looked positively dangerous as he ripped the door open. For a split second, his expression softened as he looked upon his best friend. Steve stood there with a goofy grin on his face and a surprisingly dreamy look in his eyes. But Bucky’s softness didn’t last long.

“What do you want?” He snapped. Steve tucked his hands into his pockets with a sheepish smile. His best friend wouldn’t stay mad at him. He never could.

“I need help.” Steve answered. He clearly wasn’t hurt or particularly upset. Any other friend would have turned him away given the circumstances. But this was Bucky, and this was Steve. Steve who he could never ever manage to turn away. So he reluctantly waved him inside.

Steve was only just noticing the lack of clothing, and the fresh hickeys littered across Bucky’s collarbone. His cheeks flushed as realization struck.

“I’m interrupting something.” He observed. Bucky nodded, but he didn’t quite get the chance to speak.

“Hey, Steve.” Natasha greeted. She’d pulled on one of Bucky’s shirts and it easily engulfed her. “You’re here awfully late.”

The words were half sincere and half irritated aggression towards the blonde. He flinched a tiny bit, but took a deep breath.

“I like her.” He blurted out, looking between the two. Both of them shared a look. They knew who he was talking about, but that didn’t explain why he had come bursting into their apartment at a quarter past nine at night. It wasn’t his first crush.

“Okay?” Bucky prompted, waving a hand for him to go on. The situation seemed fairly straight forward. He was head over heels for her, she was smitten with him. He would ask her out, and they would live happily ever after. Voila! “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Steve groaned. “She’s not just some dame I can charm. She’s special, she deserves something special.”

Natasha groaned out loud, moving to perch on the arm of the couch. She wasn’t sure she’d heard anything so ridiculous in her entire life. She loved Steve, but sometimes he was an absolute idiot.

“Relax, Steve. She already likes you. I swear all I hear anymore is ‘Steve is so sweet’, ‘have you seen his arms?’, ‘Steve is so talented’.” She mocked with a smirk. “Which is better than ‘I was awful, we have to run that section again’. Just ask her on a date!”

“I can’t just ask her!”

“The showcase.” Bucky intervened quickly. He loved his best friend like a brother, but he was beginning to sound like his little sister during her highschool years. “Ask her out at the showcase. That’s a big deal, right?”

Steve jumped from the seat he’d taken on the couch and grabbed his discarded bag.

“Bucky, you’re a genius!” He beamed brightly and headed for the door. He had an idea, and he needed to get started. “Thanks guys.”

The couple didn’t say anything as he rushed out the door.

When (Y/N) made it into her dorm, she found Wanda pacing the floor and reciting lines. Her twin brother Pietro was sprawled on her bed with the script held above his face. That was a bit pointless really since she’d had her lines memorized since two days after getting the script.

She sat her things down and kicked off her shoes. Usually she’d be mouthing along to Wanda’s performance, or listening to her track and working through choreography. But something else had her distracted. So she curled up with her stuffed dragon held to her chest, staring into space and daydreaming. She snapped out of it at Pietro’s loud laugh.

“What?” She asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion when she realized that both of the twins were looking in her direction.

“Pietro was talking to you. I told him that you had that dreamy look on your face so you wouldn’t care about talking to boys.” She explained, shoving her brother’s legs so she could sit comfortably on her bed.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” She propped her head up and glared at her friends.

“Every time your eyes go all dreamy, you’re thinking about Steve!” Wanda burst into giggles and (Y/N) rolled onto her back. That was absolute bullshit! Right?

“You’re both idiots.” She insisted with a smile on her lips.

“I’ve barely been around 10 minutes and I can tell it’s true.” Pietro argued. She didn’t look away from the spot on the ceiling, but she lifted her hand to flip him off.

“All you talk about is Steve. You spend more time with him than you do with me.” A little teasing pout crept onto Wanda’s lips as she spoke. It was undeniable really. (YN) sighed softly and sat up to face the twins.

“Okay, so I like him!” She huffed in defeat. “I really like him. He’s special.”

The twins shared a look. A silent ‘I-told-you-so’. Then Pietro leaned forward. He’d gotten fairly good at the whole girl talk thing over the years with Wanda and her friends.

“Special?” He prompted.

“Yeah, I’ve never really cared about dating, or settling down. It always clashed with my dreams, with my career. But this..this is different. He rivals my passion, and my dedication, and my ambition. And he balances out my psycho obsessive anxiety. He’s just incredible, you know? He’s so confident, handsome, chivalrous. And he’s smart, too! Can you even believe that? He can’t possibly be that perfect, but he is! He checks all the boxes. I’ve never met a man like him — no offense, Piet — and he seems to actually like me. He doesn’t want my body, or my career, or my reputation. Just me.

“Then, as if that simply isn’t enough. I could really imagine things working. Usually I could picture a couple dates, a fling. My career has to come first, and nobody seems to understand that. But Steve does. He doesn’t care that dance is my first love. He has the same relationship with his art.

“Can’t you just see it? A cute little apartment while I dance. He’d be making the most beautiful art. He’d have art shows, I’d have performances. We could make it big. Maybe get married, have a couple sticky little kids. It’s a dream.”

She bit her lip, and her face burned with embarrassment as she realized how much she’d just confessed. She’d never fallen for someone this way.

She hadn’t noticed Pietro getting up. He grabbed his things and walked across the small room. He pressed a sweet, brotherly kiss to (Y/N)’s head.

“You’re in deep. You should tell the poor guy.” He told her before walking to the door. She didn’t even try to argue. “Have a good night, ladies.”

The next day rolled around, and as promised, their routine continued. (Y/N) danced her heart out and refused to believe that her performance was anywhere near good enough. Steve sat in the corner and worked on a new sketch. He cared more about this one. She would see it after all. It had to be impressive. Had to be perfect.

“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?” She asked, grabbing her towel and drying her sweat. Steve snapped the book shut quicker than usual. It wasn’t ready for her eyes just yet. He tucked it into his bag and flashed her a smile.

“Nothing much. You’re looking really good.” He said standing up as she packed her things away. She gave him a curious look, her eyebrows lifting in a silent question. He took a second to process just what he’d said, then he began to blush and stammer out a response. “Well not...I just meant your dance! Your dance looks...good. Well, not good! Really good...great.”

She covered her giggle at his nervousness. The way he panicked, and the pink that burned on his cheeks were simply adorable. It was even sort of odd. At first glance, he didn’t seem the type to get nervous or to fluster so easily. But (Y/N) knew better than that. She uncovered her smile as her giggles subsided.

“Thanks. The last few bars still need some work. And I’m not sure I’m hitting some of the beats quite right. During my little solo, you know?” She shrugged and zipped her bag. Steve didn’t know exactly, he didn’t understand most of what she said when she talked about the technical details. But she seemed to be criticizing herself again, and she definitely didn’t need to.

“Well, it looks beautiful from here.” He pulled her bag up onto his shoulder. She murmured a small thank you and brushed some loose hair back from her face.

“I think we’re gonna get going.” She called to where Maria and Natasha were chatting. The redhead looked up and smiled towards Steve with a small nod.

“Have fun you two.” Maria shot the pair a teasing wink that made (Y/N)’s stomach twist with nerves.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you guys later.” She waved to her friends and slipped her hand into Steve’s just for a moment, tugging him towards the door. And like the lovesick puppy he was, he followed without a single hesitation. They walked through the halls side by side, dodging out of the way of other students.

“You know, I think you’re too hard on yourself.” Steve pointed out as they burst into the sunshine. “You’re so talented, but you’re never happy with yourself.”

Of course she knew that she was too hard on herself. She’d been hearing it her entire life. People said she’d dance herself to death one day, but it was her emotional outlet.

“Yeah, maybe I am. But I have so much to prove. Especially now. You know how competitive it is out there.”

“Well sure, but...you’re an amazing dancer. You shouldn’t doubt yourself.” His eyes lingered on hers. He knew she could do pretty much anything she set her mind to. She was incredible.

“Thanks Steve. But I have to be better than amazing. Nobody ever believed I would make it this far. My parents were less than thrilled when I decided to major in dance instead of something ‘practical’. They wanted me to get a business degree, or go into nursing.” She vented with a shake of her head. “If I ever want to make them proud again then I have to be the best.”

Steve frowned as she went on about the lack of support from her parents. It was heartbreaking. His parents weren’t around anymore, but his mother had been endlessly supportive of anything he wanted to do.

“You shouldn’t try to make them proud. You should make yourself proud first. And your family is supposed to support you no matter what.” His hand brushed against hers like he was just itching to hold it, to squeeze it, to remind her that it wasn’t just her against the world. He’d never let it be just her against the world.

“What about your family? They support your art?” She asked, looking down at the ground and absentmindedly skipping over a crack on the sidewalk. Steve smiled, but she didn’t notice.

“I didn’t know my dad. He died before I was even born. My mom was amazing. She supported everything I did. She would have loved you, you know?” He glanced towards the sky with a sad sort of smile that made (Y/N)’s heart ache in her chest. “But she died when I was in highschool.”

She gasped softly and covered her mouth. Of course she had gone and brought up awful memories. But Steve didn’t seem as bothered as she was. He took a couple long strides to hold the door open for her before continuing on.

“Since then Buck and Nat have been my family. Sam came along our freshman year here. They’re like my support team. They stick with me through everything.” He smiled brightly as he went on about his friends. She did too, thinking about her own friends.

“I guess I have a couple friends like that. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. And Nat I suppose too.” She said over her shoulder as the two of them headed up the stairs.

“And you have me.” Steve added, a small, semi-nervous smile dancing on his lips. “You’ve got plenty of support.”

“You are simply amazing.” She said after a moment, making sure he wasn’t going to take it back, or shout syke, or do some other very un-Steve-like thing. But he didn’t.

“You can count on me, doll. Anything you need.”

“I appreciate it. You’re going to regret that offer, but I do appreciate it. I appreciate you.” Steve hardly gave a moment for his heart to start beating again, flashing a smile and opening the next door for her.

“I couldn’t regret a thing when it comes to you.”

With one week left before the showcase, students were under more stress than ever. Teachers were running exam prep, and everyone was working themselves overtime to get ready for the showcase.

(Y/N), Natasha, and Maria found themselves back in the fashion design wing.One last fitting before they’d be able to do their dress rehearsal. It was cutting things close, but it was a miracle that they’d managed to find someone willing to make three brand new costumes at all. Natasha had convinced one of the seniors to design them. And he truly had delivered.

Maria was being fitted first. Tony made a few comments as he adjusted the black and red corset and fixed the tulle that fell down the back. The freshman that always trailed at his heels like a lost puppy quickly jotted them down for final touches.

“Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself.” (Y/N) mused as Maria was waved off to change back into her usual clothes. Natasha laughed.

“Don’t say things like that, they go straight to his head.” She nudged her friend to get up and change into her costume as Maria came back to take a seat. (Y/N) swatted the redheads hand away and took the costume that Peter handed her with a hushed thank you. She slipped behind the privacy screen and stripped off her everyday clothes. Then she carefully changed into the stunning costume. A ruby red two piece embellished with more rhinestones than she could imagine attaching to anything. Sheer fabric draped from the back, tickling against her legs.

A volley of playful whistles rang out from her friends as she walked out. Peter even blushed so hard that she was worried he’d get a nosebleed or something. She did a little twirl and tucked her hair behind her ear. Tony stepped forward, entirely disregarding any concept of personal space as he adjusted the costume.

“If that doesn’t get Steve’s attention, I don’t know what will.” Maria piped up. (Y/N)’s cheeks burned. If looks could kill, Maria would be a goner.

“Please. All of Steve Rogers’ attention has been on her for weeks now. He just needs to get off his ass and do something about it.” Nat added fearlessly, and the brunette hummed her agreement. (Y/N) buried her face in her hands.

“Steve Rogers? You got the hots for the golden boy?” Tony asked as he straightened up and mumbled something about pushing her chest a little higher.

“Don’t say it that way,” She complained, uncovering her face and glancing anywhere but the faces of her friends. “Yes, I like Steve. I really like him.”

This brought a grin to Nat’s face that had her a little nervous. But she’d also gotten fairly used to that. Natasha was always plotting something or other.

“Don’t worry. He feels the same way.” She promised as Tony shoved (Y/N) back towards the privacy screen to change again. “He’s just too worried about impressing you to realize that he already has.”

She rolled her eyes. There was no way that was true. Firstly, she was in no way special enough to catch his attention that way. Secondly, he didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone, especially her. He just sort of managed with that charming smile and the general kindness. He was like something from a fairytale.

“I’m gonna be honest. I don’t see what the big deal is with him.” Maria shrugged as Natasha and (Y/N) swapped places.

“He’s hunky, and he has that whole gentle giant, starving artist thing going for him.” Tony answered easily. She rolled her eyes. Although...he was definitely hunky. And the gentle giant, starving artist thing didn’t hurt.

“You guys are so weird.” She giggled and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “It’s so much more than that.”

“Yeah, well what is it then?” Nat asked, strutting out to Tony’s pedestal. She looked stunning in her black and red corset. Her black heels gave her a boost of height and her red hair fell over her shoulders. It was unfair that she was always such a knockout.

“He’s cute, and intelligent, and so passionate.” At her words, Tony flashed her a smirk and her eyes went wide. “Not like that! I just mean...he’s passionate about his art, you know?”

“Of course you would fall for something like that.” Maria teased. (Y/N) practically ruffled, shifting defensively.

“But that’s exactly what I mean! Nobody really sees why he’s so special. He’s deep, complex. He’s not like any guy I’ve met before. He’s just so much...more.” She ranted before giving a soft sigh of admiration.

“You’ve got it bad sweetheart.” Tony laughed. “You sound like me when I talk about Pep.”

Everyone knew about Tony and his Pepper. He was like a starry eyed kid when he was around her. Pepper Potts was a big shot in the music production course at the school. Everyone knew she’d make it big soon.

“I don’t know. I think it’s sweet.” Peter piped up for the first time in a while, a sweet smile on his innocent face as he looked at (Y/N). “It’s romantic. You being so in love with him and seeing him for something more than his body.”

“It’s just a silly little crush.” She lied. Even just saying so felt strange, like she was ignoring something that she never wanted to hide ever again. It was so much more than a silly little crush. But what right did she have to call it love?

T-minus two days to the showcase, and (Y/N) was most certainly working her ass off. Exams were finally over, and all she was worried about was her damn routine. Every spare moment was spent rehearsing. She’d hardly seen Steve face to face since exams had begun. She texted him any time she allowed herself to take a break.

She was pretty sure she was one of the only people still in the building. She’d been working herself to the edge for nearly six hours now. Her brain was going numb, her body screamed with every move she made, and every bit of her was trembling with exhaustion. But with every rep, her eyes found something new to nitpick.

That wasn’t smooth enough. You’re not hitting the points. You aren’t expressive enough. You aren’t enough. You’re never going to make it. You’ll never be any good. You’re talentless.

She hadn’t realized she’d started crying. She stared at herself in the massive, looming mirror that spanned the wall. She was just so small there, standing all alone in the middle of the room, chest heaving and tears streaking down her cheeks. She was hopeless. She wiped her face desperately and curled up in Steve’s corner.

She had texted him the last time she had let herself sit down. Which was — she glanced at her phone — two hours earlier. She sat her phone down and pulled her knees to her chest and tried her best to calm herself down. She was being pathetic. She’d been through worse, why was this throwing her. She sniffled. She needed someone to talk her down. But it was nearly 8pm. Natasha was with Buck, she was sure of it. Wanda was out with Pietro at his insistence. Maria hardly ever answered her texts, let alone her calls.

“And you have me,” Steve’s words rang out in her head. She picked up her phone again and pressed the call button by Steve’s contact. One ring. What was she thinking? Two rings. She was stupid to call him out of the blue. Three rings. She should-

“Hello?” Steve’s voice came through, and hers caught in her throat. She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the shaky sob that slipped out. “(Y/N)? You there?”

Steve had been in the shower when he heard the ringing. So of course he brushed it off. But when it didn’t stop, he assumed it wasn’t something he should ignore. Once he made out her contact, he was out in an instant, dripping water onto the tile of his bathroom without a thought.

“Stevie?” She asked finally. “Is this a bad time?”

“What? No! No, now’s fine. Are you okay?” He awkwardly held his towel around his waist. She sounded rough. Something was wrong. He could hear the tremble in her voice, the way her breath seemed to stutter. His shower was the last thing on his mind.

“Do you think I’m a good dancer, Steve?” She asked instead of giving him a straight answer. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, she’d heard him say it a million times before.

“(Y/N), talk to me. What’s going on?” He pushed, already moving towards his room to dress. She needed him and he was not going to let her down.

“I’ve been working on my number all day, Stevie. All day, and I’m still no good.” She sobbed and pressed her palm against her eyes.

“Go take a shower.” Steve ordered. “Drink some water. I’ll meet you outside the building in 20 minutes.”

“Steve,”

“No, go get cleaned up. 20 minutes.” He didn’t let up, and after a moment she gave in. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He let her hang up, and rushed to get himself dressed

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was just trying to follow his instructions. She packed her things back into her bag and lifted it onto her achy shoulder. She flicked off the lights and closed the door behind her. On the walk to the showers, she downed what was left in her water bottle.

Usually her showers would only take 5 minutes, but as she stood under the nearly scalding spray, she felt her muscles relax, felt her panic begin to ebb into a tight coil of anxiety in her chest. So she stayed there until the water cooled to an uncomfortable icy drizzle. 10 minutes left until she’d have to face him.

She dried herself out and changed into her clean clothes. A sweater and her leggings. She pushed her hair back. Five minutes. For the first time ever, she was dreading seeing Steve.

By the time she made it outside, Steve was already pacing there waiting for her. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and his hair was damp and messy. But the moment she came into view, he froze and looked her over. Her eyes were still bloodshot from the crying, and it was clear that she was nervous by the way she fiddled with her sleeves. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he met her halfway and bundled her up safe and warm into a tight hug.

She relaxed into him, pressing her cheek against his chest and hugging him just as tightly. They stayed that way for a long time, longer than either of them bothered to count. He kept his arms wrapped protectively around her, and she clung to him like her life depended on it, just listening to the steady beat of his heart. For a brief moment of time, she was okay, she was safe, and she was enough.

“You had me really worried.” Steve confessed softly. She tilted her chin up to look at him. Their faces were almost dangerously close, intimately close. And with her chest pressed to his that way, he could surely feel the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She mumbled, and he shook his head so quickly it nearly startled her. He only hoped she didn’t really regret calling him. But the fact that her hands had fisted into his dark blue tee eased his mind. “Didn’t mean for you to come all the way here so late.”

Steve scoffed and brushed his thumb against the tiny sliver of exposed skin where her sweater had ridden up.

“I told you that you’ve got me. I’d do anything to make sure you’re okay.” His eyes met hers, and the simple sincerity behind the blue she’d fallen for had her stomach swirling.

“You are a real prince, Steve Rogers.” She practically whispered. This man was too good to be true, and much too good to be hers. Steve didn’t say anything, but even in the near darkness she noticed the way his cheeks went pink.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked, slowly letting his arms slip from around her.

“About four hours ago.” She didn’t bother mentioning that even then she’d only had a granola bar. But Steve still didn’t seem satisfied with the length of time.

“Come on, there’s a little place that you might like.” He gently took her bag from her shoulder and nodded for her to walk with him. She didn’t speak, just following along at his side. He didn’t press her to say anything, and she appreciated it more than words could say. Eventually though, her guilt got the better of her.

“My mom called me. Her and my dad are coming to see me dance at the showcase.” She confessed suddenly. Steve gave her a look. That would explain her panic. He knew how tense things were, how useless they’d made her feel. Something in him just hoped she wouldn’t let their opinions tear her down completely.

“Is that why you were dancing so hard today?” She nodded, and they were both quiet for another long moment.

“My parents have never come to a showcase. My dad hasn’t even seen my dance since I graduated highschool. But now they decide to come to the mid-year showcase my junior year?” Her anxiety was beginning to give way to anger. Years of no support from the most important people in her life, and they suddenly decide to come back as if they’d never abandoned her.

“Maybe they’re coming around. Better late than never, right?” Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave a little squeeze. She smiled and let herself melt into him. “Come on. This is it.”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america imagine #captain america fanfic #captain america #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #fluff #imagine #x reader #reader insert #the muses dance

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artnerd1123 · 4 years

Text

A Familiar World

Coffee ——————————————

Following the move in, things are still a little tense in the apartment. So Aiden decides to try and get on Journal’s good side. What better way to do so than with coffee?

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

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At long last, it’s another chapter!!! I’m following the dialogue bits in “warming up,” and this was inspired by the second and third sets there. Gotta get these roomies on track to friendship. I got this finished in 2 days, but it’s been in existence for awhile, so! I’m glad to finally get it out here lskdjfs. Hope y’all enjoy!

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Coffee. Black as pitch, with just a touch of creamer. Not the expensive stuff, mind you. Just what one can get from a certain widely known coffee farm. Rindbell, if a familiar remembered right. And the creamer comes from the same place. Make sure it’s warm and well mixed. Keep it ready for breakfast, noon, and night. Anytime is a good time for this coffee. It’s a comfort, an energy source, and a favorite all wrapped into one. Easy to tell, as it’s what’s filled a skittish sorcerer’s cup for a few weeks now. Enough was gone that he was running dangerously low. The gentle scrape of fingers on the bottom of a can had greeted the apartment consistently for a couple days. And the sorcerer? Well, he wasn’t saying anything. His name might’ve been Journal, but he wasn’t about to be an open book. And he’d already established how he didn’t want his roommate worrying about him at all. “I’m headed to do some apartment shopping,” Aiden had said, a few days earlier. Journal had barely spared him a glance. It was one of the few times Aiden caught the sorcerer out of his room. He’d been making coffee, of course. The questor himself hadn’t touched the coffee maker thus far. It was one of the agreements they’d silently come to. Journal had the coffee machine. Aiden didn’t use it. That was how things were. So far. … And Journal didn’t seem to have picked up Aiden’s hint. He decided to be a little more direct. “... Do you... want anything? While I’m out?” Aiden ventured. Journal had fixed him with a withering look. “I don’t need you buying anything for me,” he replied tersely. Aiden quirked a brow, holding up his hands. “Alright. That’s fine. Just… figured I’d ask.” “... Whatever.” And so he hadn’t gotten anything. But now, with Journal’s stash coming to an end, the situation had changed. The sorcerer was twitchy and out even less. Cleary, he was trying to save what he had left. He didn’t want to ask for more, either. But he needed it. Aiden wasn’t about to let Journal go without it. He didn’t need to know his roommate well to see how big of a deal the drink was. And maybe. Just maybe. He could finally get on his good side.

Aiden was up early. He usually was, but it was especially important today. He had errands to run, and his roommate wasn’t one who liked to sleep in. Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he cast a look around the living room. It was barely deserving of its name. The curtains were drawn, barely letting the sun’s first rays inside. The bookshelf was half full. All the novels that remained were shelved neatly. A news scroll was the only thing on the coffee table. One of the armchairs remained utterly untouched. If he hadn’t been sitting on the couch reading last night, he would’ve sworn the place was still waiting for its tenants. It was… discouraging. But he wasn’t going to give up. Not yet, anyways. “You ready to go, Roo?” the questor called quietly. There was an answering meow from the hall. The indigo cat familiar came into sight a moment later. Rubbing at his eyes, Roo yawned loudly. His patched cloak hung loosely around his neck, and his tail dragged against the ground. It was leaving a little paint trail as he made his way to his originator’s side. He sort of just… stood there. Blinking sleepily. “... mnnh… yeah,” Roo mumbled. “... les… lesgo…” Aiden chuckled softly. The familiar was always droopy in the mornings. “C’mere, roodle doodle,” he said gently, taking his paw. “We won’t be out long.” “Wha’eveh yeh say, dad…” Aiden let Roo out first before locking the door behind them. He had no doubt that his roommate would be fine if he didn’t, but the younger sorcerer preferred a locked door. Hopefully that would change sometime. I’d love having visitors over someday. For now, though, they were off to the store. Down the steps and out the front doors they went. Roo woke up more once they were outside. His tail twitched anxiously, and his ears pressed back against his head. He was walking as close to Aiden as he could manage. Aiden gave him a few reassuring pats. The kitty’s nerves were nothing new. The area was still unfamiliar, after all. “Not far to the store,” he hummed. “And we’re only picking up a few things.” “... ‘s theah gonna b-be… um… a l-lotta people…?” Roo whispered, eyes flicking from place to place. “Probably not. We’re up early enough to miss most people, but late enough for stores to be open,” Aiden explained. “... mnn… okay…” Roo took a couple shaky breaths. The tension slowly eased from his shoulders. “... okay. W-we got this.” “That’s the spirit bud…”

Shopping indeed went quickly. It took a little to find Journal’s preferred coffee, but Roo’s excellent memory had come in handy. Nothing like a detail oriented familiar to remember exactly what labels look like. Aiden also snagged a couple other things while they were out. Biscuits, for roo, and some veggies, for dinner that night. But that was neither here nor there. The purchase that mattered was the coffee. And what mattered now was getting home on time…

The originator and familiar found themselves on their doorstep once again. Aiden fumbled around in his belt pack for the key, grumbling under his breath. He still wasn’t used to keeping track of such things. At least he could manage holding a grocery bag and biscuit box in one arm. “Did yeh drop it?” Roo asked, brows furrowed as he shifted a bag of coffee and carrots in his arms. “I-I don’ see it on the floor out heah…” “No no, I’m sure I have it,” Aiden sighed, checking his cloak pocket. “I distinctly remember putting it away. What a time to remember my organization skills are lacking- ah!” His fingers closed around the small bit of metal, drawing it out. He gave Roo a wink as he stuck it in the lock. “Good thing my memory’s not as cluttered as everything else, eh?” The comment drew a giggle from the paint cat. Aiden nudged open the door, and Roo went scampering inside. Though Aiden held his breath going in, a relieved sigh was the only thing that came out. He could hear some noise from down the hall, but that was alright. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen, from what he could see. Aside from Roo and himself, that is. Good. They’d made it in time. “Take the coffee to the kitchen, bud,” he called softly, throwing his cloak onto the rack. “Already on it!” Roo chirped. He quickly skittered into the kitchen, his originator right behind him. Aiden busied himself putting away the other groceries as Roo climbed cabinets for the coffee container. He made sure to keep an eye on the kitty, though. All he had to do was dump the bag into the tin. But still. Roo was small. And the cabinets were high up. Plenty of opportunity for things to fall on him- or the kitty himself to fall. The sound of coffee beans gently clinking against metal rang out soon enough. From Roo’s little “mrrp!” it was louder than he’d expected. And… did it mask the noises in the hall? Or had they stopped? Aiden snuck a glance out the kitchen doorway as the beans’ clinking slowed to a stop. For a moment- just a moment- he thought he saw someone looking out from the hall. But his glance was over in an instant, and he’d nearly dropped a bag of celery. The questor sighed to himself as he got it set back in the cold cabinet. Hopefully what he saw meant their roommate would join them for breakfast. Turning back to the kitchen, he saw Roo half hanging out of another cabinet. The sight made him snort. Whatever he was digging for, he had several boxes on the verge of tipping onto the floor. He crossed the room quickly. “What’re you up to over there, bud?” Aiden chuckled, lifting him out. “I’m gettin breakfast!” Roo mewed indignantly. He crossed his arms, pouting as he hung in Aiden’s grasp. “I’m gonna have some’a the marshmella cereal!” “You sure you need sugar first thing in the morning?” Aiden asked, one brow raised. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not like I’m askin fer catnip!” Roo huffed. “Mmh… Fair enough,” Aiden nodded. He set him down gently, chuckling as Roo beamed. “Go have a seat. I’ll get it. You nearly knocked everything out of here just trying to get the box.” “Yeah, well, there’s no stools on the counter.” “Also fair.” Aiden shook out some cereal and marshmallows into one bowl for roo, and some cornflakes into another for himself. A snap or two left a milk bottle in his hand, and he poured some milk into the two bowls. He stuck a spoon in each before turning around again. It was when he carried them to the table, though, that he noticed someone standing in the kitchen doorway. Journal. He didn’t look any different than usual. Dark clothes, bright leggings, carefully smoothed and dutifully styled hair, pulled back in a ponytail. Though he still managed to look somewhat disheveled. It was probably the raccoon’s mask of sleeplessness on his face. The sorcerer seemed to hover where he was, uncertain about coming in. With the way his eyes flicked from the originator and familiar to the rest of the room, Aiden could tell he was still nervous. That was fine. He just gave him a gentle, warm smile, as he always did. “Good morning Journal,” he hummed, setting the bowls on the table. Roo gave a quiet thank you before waving at Journal. “N-nice to see yeh again...” Roo said softly. “... yeah. ‘Morning...” Journal mumbled. “... you too…” There was a beat of silence as they all looked at each other. Then the two turned to their cereal as their nervous roommate crossed the room. They’d give him his space. And if he didn’t feel like talking more, that was ok. Didn’t make the silence any less awkward, but still. Aiden couldn’t help but sneak a glance or two at Journal as he reached for his coffee container. Taking it down, the younger sorcerer fumbled with it. A look of surprise flitted across his face. Seems he hadn’t been expecting the weight. He set it down carefully, his surprise turning to bafflement once he took the lid off. It was filled to the top with coffee beans. Across the table, Roo was hiding a smile. Aiden hid one of his own. He’d wait for Journal to say something, though. Sure enough, he spoke up. “... did… did you… get me more coffee?” Journal asked hesitantly. “Hm? Oh, yes.” Aiden looked up before nodding. “I grabbed some while Roo and I were out this morning.” “... huh…” Journal eyed the coffee beans for a moment. Reaching in, he pulled out the freshly emptied bag. It brought a whole new layer of delighted confusion to his gaze. “Wh- how- how’d you know what brand of coffee I like???” “You drink enough that I figured you’d like black,” Aiden shrugged. “... that, and Roo saw the label. He helped me pick the right brand.” Roo chuckled timidly when Journal looked at him. Journal blinked, silent for a moment. “... oh. Well. Uh. Thanks,” he said haltingly. “No problem,” Aiden smiled. Journal gave him a small smile in return as he went back to his coffee making. The silence that followed was different than earlier. This was less tense. More… companionable. Just the quiet sounds of morning breakfast time with three roommates. It was… nice. For the first time, all three of them could admit to that.

When Journal finally had his coffee in a mug, Aiden and Roo were finishing up their cereal. “Good coffee?” Aiden inquired. Journal gave a small nod. “Good,” Aiden smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” “W… will we see yeh again today…?” Roo piped up. He fidgeted with his paws, looking shyly hopeful. “Besides when you come for more coffee, that is,” Aiden joked gently. Journal was silent for a bit. Considering. He swirled his drink as he looked between the two. Eventually he shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.” Heaving a sigh, he started off towards the hall. “Depends how much work I get done today.” “F-faieh enough,” Roo sighed. “I-I hope that goes well…” “I’ll second that,” Aiden nodded. “Again, it was nice to see you, Journal.” Journal looked over his shoulder one last time as he stood before the hallway. “... yeah. You… you too,” he replied. “... thanks again.” “Not a problem, Journal.”

As Journal headed down the hall, Aiden and roo were still smiling. They’d done good this time. And, with some luck, AIden thought, I’ll get Journal out and about yet. For now… they had coffee. That was as good a start as any.

#afw chapter #my story #afw #a familiar world #aiden pingere #roo pingere #journal sherman drapht #arty writes #ayyy ya girl's finished another chapter!!!#after 60 years sldkjfsklf #i'm excited to start on these guys being friends--#i'll have some nettles letters to accompany this latest update sometime soonish #but! there's this for now #lskdjfs i hope y'all like--#*softly* and if u enjoy; rbs of my writing r appreciated...

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flvcr · 4 years

Text

ᴡᴇꜱᴛᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ₀₀₁ : ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴜʀᴠᴇʏ

𝙬 / 𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙤𝙧

ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇᴛɪᴇɴɴᴇ

when you think of westmere, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?

❝ i guess it’s more of a feeling for me ? this sense of warmth. it’s just bits and pieces engrained in my mind of those in town. it’s starting to feel like home for me ? i mean, i’ve moved around a lot, and although i think back on those cities fondly, this is a new one for me. ❞

have you read rw wallace’s books? if you have, which ones your favorite?

❝ i’ve read through them all, mainly as a result of joining a book club in town - some a couple times more than the others. if i had to choose, i think my favorite one is secret identities. although i’ve marked up corruption and creation a bunch, that one’s pretty solid. i read the first when i moved to new york, and then once i discovered it was inspired by westmere i knew i needed to come visit, and ever since it’s definitely lived up to the hype set in merelake. ❞

what spot is your favorite in town and why?

❝ favorite ? hm, the gazebo, at night, is a bit surreal. there’s this bit of stillness for a moment that just seems to encompass the entire town, and the very next second the crickets are chirping, it’s almost like you can hear everything yet NOTHING all at the same time. ❞

if you were stranded at night, who’s the first person you’d call and why?

❝ @sebmeier . let’s just hope the poor sod isn’t standing beside me this time. oh, cause he’d put the pedal to the vettel. but if he’s with me, @mcttie - it’s a given. ❞

how often do you talk to your parents/family?

❝ we text here and there throughout the week, my parents and siblings alike. we have a family group chat, ha, um, but it’s nice. i call my mum on thursdays, we’ll facetime and have a proper meal together. if my siblings are visitng, or dad is around they’ll join too. ❞

how would your best friend describe you? what about your worst enemy?

❝ probably in the same fashion - an ass that just won’t quit. i’m only kidding. perhaps more along the lines of me being a pain in the ass ? ❞

do you like celebrating birthdays? what about holidays?

❝ birthdays ? hm, no, well not my own. i do enjoy gift giving though, and writing a card, so i guess i enjoy others birthdays. holidays, eh, it more so depends on the one. i enjoy halloween, that dream-like christmas bubble of time is a bit uncanny, and i’m a proper sucker for valentine’s day. all the others are a bit of a wash. no offense to the easter bunny and what not. ❞

do you believe in ghosts? aliens? are you a conspiracy theorist?

❝ ghosts ? definitely. growing up in montpellier, i could’ve sworn there was this girl that used to come and play with me, but a couple years back when i tried to explain her to my parents, they said they had no idea who i was describing. aliens? there’s absolutely no way we’re the highest form of life in this galaxy, if so, that’s awfully depressing. i guess you could say i’m a conspiracy theorist, i mean, i’m not sold on the ideology of lizard people quite yet, but i do often slip into the online void - some of those just ... click, y’know ? ❞

if you won the lottery, what’s the first thing you’d do?

❝ lately i’ve been thinking of designing some type of rec center filled with after school programs and an ice rink, of course. although, i don’t necessarily need to win the lottery to really set it in motion, i suppose. regardless, i think it’d be a bit exciting to develop a program that’d engage with the youth of westmere, it’s a bit shoddy now, but who knows ? maybe one day it’ll come together. ❞

is the glass half full or half empty?

❝ that all depends on what you’re putting into it, hm ? are you taking or giving ? ❞

are you more at home in a room full of people or being alone?

❝ of course i enjoy spending time with others, but a room FULL of people sounds a bit nightmarish. i read this thing about how you become the most like the five people you surround yourself with, but it makes me wonder, at what points are you ever truly yourself ? i figure you can only find out when you’re completely alone. ❞

are you someone who follows a routine every day or prefers the spontaneity of life?

❝ a mix of both ? during training and the hockey season, i think a routine is a bit easier to follow. however, knowing i’m out for the season, i’m looking forward to the spontaneity of life here in westmere. ❞

do you want kids someday? if you already have kids, would you want more?

❝ i haven’t really thought that far ahead. someday, maybe ? i do enjoy spending time with @salingcr and his rugrats, so why not ? yes ? ❞

what’s your go to karaoke song?

❝ runnin’ with the devil - van halen. ❞

what throwback movie are you crossing your fingers that drive on by will show someday?

❝ meet joe black, although i’m not sure if they ever would due to the length of the film. ❞

what’s your favorite ice cream flavor down at ice queen & king?

❝ mint chocolate chip is a classic, but lately i’ve had a hankering for their mocha almond fudge. can never go wrong there. ❞

ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴛɪᴇɴɴᴇ

if your character grew up in town explain what they think of town and why they still live here.

— n/a.

if your character moved here at one point or another, explain what they were thinking when they moved. was it their choice? a parents? how did they feel about moving?

— after being gifted the first of rw wallace’s books while living in new york, etienne knew the town depicted in the story was a place that he desired to be a part of. so, once his lease was up, he opted to move to westmere, commuting to new york during hockey and training season. he’s enjoyed it ever since, definitely no regrets.

what is your character’s earliest memory?

— his earliest memory is from halloween when he was about four years of age. still living in montpellier, his parents took him and his siblings from business to business to do a bit of trick-or-treating, popping in and out of different store fronts asking for candy. that year his parents dressed him up as jason voorhes, finding it comical for his age.

is your character’s family big or small? what is their relationship with their family like?

— etienne has two older siblings, each of them being two years apart. he and his siblings are very close, as well as his parents - they have a family group chat. he definitely gets along with his mother the most, the two of them having a virtual dinner on a weekly basis.

is your character the type to have a lot of good friends or a few really close ones?

— etienne has both ?! a solid amount of good friends, and yet also a tight knit group that he feels that he can be a splash more expressive and vulnerable with when the time comes. he does make a point to insert himself in others’ lives, wanting to be there for truly anyone who may need / want him, but he sometimes finds it difficult for himself to open up to that connection.

what is your character’s life philosophy? how do they see the world?

— with a deep appreciation and love for matthew mcconaughey this video here basically is etienne’s philosophy / way he sees the world in a six minute nut shell. BUT taking things from it, etienne is very realistic and straight to the point - will tell you what’s wrong / what the problem even if it’s a little blunt and borders on the rude end of things. he just doesn’t think living in some delusional realm is the right move for any one by any means. he may come off having a superiority complex when one is asking for his advice, but it’s just cause at the end of the day he thinks he’s being honest / right and by all means helpful, even if the other person doesn’t want to acknowledge it. aside from that, he has a deep appreciation for all forms of life, the earth included - just treating peeps with kindness and the like !!

what are some goals that your character has?

— in regards to his hockey career, he’d like to be awarded the nhl foundation award. fingers crossed he’ll be cleared to return in the following season if all goes well with his recovery, bc he really wants to go into the playoffs and win the stanley cup. he is also hoping to attend the winter olympics in beijing in 2022.

what does a typical day in the life of your character look like?

— a typical day, as of late, for etienne consists of him waking up a touch on the early side to a freshly made pot of coffee, then followed by taking olive on a walk/run around town. after that he will shower, make a bit of breakfast, perhaps check on seb’s chickens ( just to be safe ) and then spend the day either reading or working in his makeshift studio. he enjoys the throwback days offered down at movie magic, so he’ll drop in to watch whatever film is being shown. otherwise, he’s likely with friends - doing whatever can be done in the day.

what does your characters house/room look like? is it messy & cluttered or is it neat & organized?

— for a visual, click here ! his house and room altogether are rather neat and organized. if things are messy, even in the slightest, it’s an indication that something is wrong. he lives with sebastian, and with seb also being rather tidy, the two never have any issues, nor really any conflicting design ideas throughout the home.

what does your character’s typical wardrobe consist of?

— for an overall visual, click here ! etienne enjoys dressing up, give him a lil sweater vest and he’s beaming - he likes to look sharp, and a bit on the clean cut side. he can be a bit adventurous with his wardrobe, but definitely loves a splash of color. on the other side he his more casual looks are a jeans ( flare, skinny, cord ?! the options are endless ), a fun lil graphic tee to spice things up ( he prefers the more ridiculous ones ), and a jacket ?! he’s looking sharp, def won’t be wearing the same thing twice.

what’s a quote that describes your character?

— “ It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. ” ― Theodore Roosevelt

why did you choose your character’s song?

— etienne has wide range of music taste, having bounced around growing up, he’s had various influences and exposures when it comes to what he enjoys listening to when he’s on his own. he really took a nose dive into rock music when he was practicing and developing his hockey skills - enjoy being on the ice and listening to / mentally playing back a power guitar riff doing a game. overall, rock music is the genre that he finds the most “ fun “ and he can be caught, embarrassingly so, doing his own little variations of air guitar. but he really fell in love with eddie van halen and truly believes he’s one of the best guitarists of all time, so van halen is one of his fav karaoke songs - not only to sing, but to simply act out.

#( & ᴛᴀꜱᴋꜱ . )#westmeretask001 #aaaah if this doesn't make sense i meant it dkfjgn

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