#i just want him to hang out with the food related mons and enjoy some fresh fruit with a giant flying dinosaur. yah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi! Do you think you’d be willing to write some Cubs fluff for Mardi Gras? Like Leo making Finn and Lo do something (I don’t exactly know how it’s celebrated)?

Oh my god I LOVE Mardi Gras!!! Also, I haven’t done Cubs fluff in a while, and I combined it with a couple other related prompts. This fic includes Cubs and Coops bonding (ft. Logan being a little shit), Leo learning to drive in the snow, a chaotic trip to the grocery store, and Lions family dinner after a winter walk. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

“Eas—Easy, babe, just take it nice and steady,” Finn gripped the ‘oh, shit’ handle with one hand and Leo’s thigh with the other; in the backseat, Logan rubbed his neck where the seatbelt bit into it.

Leo took an unsteady breath and carefully pressed the gas again, wincing as the car rumbled under him. “Oh god, oh fuck, okay.”

“Snow isn’t that hard to drive in—” Finn cut off as Leo slammed on the brakes again. “—as long as you don’t brake hard whenever you feel a little bit of ice. Lo, you okay?”

“Fine,” Logan wheezed, bracing against the car door.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Finn murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as Leo began inching forward again. “If you start to slip, take your foot off the gas and do not slam the brakes, okay? We don’t want to skid.”

“I don’t get why you can’t drive us there,” Leo said, glancing in each of his mirrors even though they were still in a fairly residential area. Ten minutes on the road and they’d barely made it four blocks from the apartment.

“Because you need to know how to drive properly.”

“I know how to drive!” Leo saw Finn and Logan exchange a look through the rearview mirror and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Stop it. When’s my next turn?”

“Still 53rd.”

“Left or right?”

“Right.” Finn tapped out a quick text on his phone. “Cap and Loops just arrived at the store.”

“Fuck,” Leo muttered.

“It’s okay, Peanut, take your time,” Logan said. “Just focus on getting there safely.”

Leo tried to breathe deep and they rolled down the block, flinching each time snow or ice crackled under the tires or threatened to make them slide. “I drive in the rain all the time. This shouldn’t be hard.”

“Rain is way different than snow.” Finn pointed to the next intersection. “Turn there.”

They took the turn a bit wide, but thankfully there were no cars on the other side—still, both Finn and Logan went pale. Logan cleared his throat. “Streets here aren’t as wide as New Orleans, mon amour.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leo grumbled. “How much further?”

“The parking lot is on the next block.”

They almost got stuck driving up the small ramp into the parking lot due to Leo’s ‘slow and steady’ approach and he could have sworn he heard Logan muttering the Hail Mary in French under his breath. Parking was easy—nobody in their right mind would be driving after a true Gryffindor snowstorm. Except us, he thought wryly as he turned the engine off.

“Don’t forget to lock the car,” Finn said mere seconds after the key was out.

“Dude.”

“Sorry. Uh, Cap’s by the produce section.”

They were too focused on not slipping and falling on their asses to talk much while they walked through several snowdrifts to get to the front entrance of the grocery store; Leo sighed with happiness as soon as the heated air hit his face.

“Harzy!” Cap waved an arm over his head from the apple stand, smiling brightly. “You survived!”

“It was a close one,” Finn called back with a grin, sliding his hand into Leo’s back pocket as the three of them walked over.

“Dibs on riding in the cart!” One of Logan’s legs was already halfway into the basket before Sirius could stop him; he kicked aside the celery and onions and settled down, leaning back onto Sirius’ hands. “Bonjour.”

“Get out.”

“Non. I live here now.”

“I’m not pushing you.”

“I will!” Finn said. “Where’s the old ball and chain, Capsicle?”

“Call me that again and you can say goodbye to your ball and chain,” Remus said drily, lugging a bag of rice over from the other aisle. He stopped when he saw Logan, looking amused. “Hiya, Tremz. You look comfy.”

“Oh, I am.” Logan lounged in the cart, letting one leg drape over the side; he groaned when Remus set the rice bag on his chest. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but it was funny.” He grinned at Leo. “How was driving?”

Leo shrugged. “Decent.”

Sirius snorted as they began walking toward the meat section. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t beheaded,” Logan said. “Fish, how fast can you make it to the end of the aisle?”

“Loops, time me.” Finn tightened his grip on the cart and bent into a runner’s stance; Leo and Sirius both rolled their eyes as Remus dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up the timer.

“Ready…set…go!” Finn ran for three steps before hopping onto the under carriage as Logan whooped. Remus stopped the timer. “Four point six seconds! Get back here, I wanna try.”

“You’re not going to beat that time,” Logan laughed as he climbed out of the cart.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at the same time Remus stuck his tongue out. “Watch me. Knutty, can I trust you to be an unbiased timer?”

Leo shrugged. “Sure, gimme your phone.”

“You have one of your very own.”

“Trying to hide something, are we?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius pushed him away by the forehead. “Spill the beans, Loops! Got some spicy messages in there? Some things poor baby Nutter Butter can’t handle?”

“No, I just don’t trust any of you with anything that belongs to me,” he laughed. “You’re walking safety hazards.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Leo said as he set the timer. “Ready? Go!”

Sirius nearly tipped the cart over when he stood on the lower bar, making both of them yelp and wobble for a moment. Leo stopped the clock at the end of the aisle. Three point nine seconds.

“Sorry, guys, that’s four point eight seconds!” he called as Sirius pushed the cart back up to them.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Show me the phone.”

“I already reset the time.”

“So we definitely won,” Sirius said while Remus clambered out of the basket and Logan took his place. “Get out, Tremzy!”

“Make me!”

Sirius reached in and grabbed him under his armpits, but Logan kept a tight grip on the sides. “Are you done?” Remus asked wearily once Sirius started shaking him. “ ‘cause our grocery list is, like, a million miles long.”

With a disgruntled noise, Sirius dropped Logan back into the cart. “With any luck, he’ll be crushed under the food. What’s next?”

They had a few more competitions during their journey through the store, including onion basketball, vegetable Tetris, and a highly amusing game of twenty questions that ended in Sirius laying the bag of rice over Logan’s face.

Leo did some mental math as they walked out with six grocery bags full of ingredients. “We’ll need about seven pots to fit all this, but we’ve only got two that would work.”

“I think we’ve got one or two as well,” Remus said as he hauled a bag into the trunk of their car and brushed his hands off. “Celeste probably has some, and I can give Lily a call. Where are we making it, again?”

“Dumo’s. There’s nowhere near enough space at the apartment and I don’t want these two anywhere close to it.”

Finn shot him an offended look over a bag of onions. “Hey!”

“I love you, sweetheart, but if you fuck up my gumbo I’ll cry.” In the back of his mind, Leo was already thinking of small jobs for Logan and Finn to do so they could make it together, but they didn’t need to know that. It could be a Mardi Gras surprise.

“The sun’s coming out,” Sirius mused, looking upward at the clear blue sky. “Nothing we bought is going to melt. Do you want to go for a walk before we head out?”

Logan checked his phone. “We’ve got time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo agreed.

“I’m never going to say no to a snow day,” Finn laughed, wrapping his arms around Leo and Logan. “Lead the way.”

“So, Knutty, gumbo is basically chicken noodle soup, right?” Sirius asked as he linked elbows with Remus and started down the sidewalk.

“Uh, no.” Leo made a disgusted face and reached out to smack the back of his shoulder. “That’s blasphemy. Gumbo is more like stew, but you put less meat in it and more of a vegetable base. There aren’t noodles, either. Do you even know what a roux is?”

Sirius glanced back at Finn, who shrugged. “…I do not.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Leo muttered. “A roux is the base to all good New Orleans food. It’s flour and oil, and you heat it up so whatever you’re making has an actual taste to it, as well as some thickness. If you get it wrong, the whole thing is pretty much ruined.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

Ahead of them, a pack of kids played pickup hockey on the park’s frozen pond. Several of them wore Lions sweatshirts or hats and Leo leaned his head on Finns beanie with a smile. “Look at how cute they are,” Finn cooed, waving to some of the astonished parents who had spotted them.

“Oh, killer hit,” Remus said as one kid went on a breakaway. “Is he—hey, nice shot!”

They paused for a second to applaud and a jumble of excited yelling echoed off the trees around the pond; Leo burst out laughing and draped his other arm across Logan’s shoulders, pulling him in closer to their huddle as they began to walk again. “We should head out there sometime. We live close enough.”

Finn hummed in agreement and stood on his tiptoes with a hopeful smile. “Kisses?”

Leo obliged, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous. That had nothing to do with hockey.”

“I didn’t get any kisses,” Logan grumbled, snuggling into Leo’s ribs.

“Get up here and I’ll give you one!”

“My nose is cold!”

Leo sighed dramatically and bent down to kiss the rosy tip of his nose—at the last second, Logan popped his chin out of his coat collar and caught his lips. “That was smooth as fuck. Better?”

“Much.”

“Are you three being gross again?” Remus teased, craning his neck to look back.

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“One walk,” Sirius sighed. “I wanted one walk where we could hang out in peace and quiet.”

“You invited the wrong people for that,” Leo snickered as they looped back around the block into the parking lot. “Harzy, baby, can you drive us back?”

“You need to learn!”

Leo turned on his saddest puppy eyes and stuck his lower lip out. “Please?”

Finn scrunched his nose up and flicked his shoulder lightly. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously.”

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

After a quick pit stop at their apartment to pick up the pots, they arrived at the Dumais house just past two in the afternoon. Sirius and Remus pulled into the driveway just as they began unloading groceries from the truck and hurried over to give them a hand; all five of them were immediately mobbed by children the second they set foot in the house. Leo carefully took the onions from Logan so he could sweep Katie over his shoulder and tickle her knees, making her dissolve into giggles.

“My boys!” Celeste called from the entrance to the kitchen. She practically glowed with excitement as she pulled them into a group hug and Leo melted a little when she pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “You brought the food, yes?”

“We’ve got everything we need,” he confirmed, holding the onions and a pot up as proof. “As long as you’ve got counter space, we’ll be a-okay.”

Sirius and Logan lingered in the doorway, chatting with the kids in rapid French that Leo didn’t even try to keep up with—he used to think regional differences were made up for internet clout, but even after living with Logan for close to a year he sometimes struggled with the pace.

Celeste helped them gather cutting boards, knives, and basic spices that they hadn’t picked up at the store; Leo felt a thrill in his gut and drummed his hands happily on the countertop at the sight of the familiar ingredients. He made a mental note to send a picture to his mother later that night as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Think you can handle rinsing vegetables?” he asked, passing Finn a bag of green peppers.

Finn rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek before going to the sink. Remus unpacked the last of the bags and gave him an expectant look—Leo was struck by the sudden realization that for once, he was the only one in the kitchen who knew the recipe.

“Um, I’ll start the roux,” he said, grabbing the flour and oil. “Loops, can you start dicing the peppers, celery, and onions? Cap can help out once he gets the squid children off him.”

A smile tugged at the edge of Remus’ mouth. “Bold of you to assume he won’t drag them in here.”

“Alright, Rookie, what’s my job?” Sirius panted, grinning wildly as Adele wrapped herself around his lower leg and groaned with each dragging step.

Remus spared him a playful I told you so look, and Leo shook his head. “As long as you can use a knife with a kid clinging to your leg, you can help your fiancé chop the basics.”

Sirius mock-saluted him and hobbled to the counter; behind him, Logan wandered in with Marc under one arm and Katie under the other. “I have potato sack delivery,” he announced, giving them each a gentle shake. “Can these go in the gumbo, too?”

“No!” both shrieked at the same time, flailing their legs.

“Those look like pretty good potatoes to me…” Sirius said, glancing down at Adele. “What do you think?”

“Put ‘em in the soup!” she yelled.

“It’s not soup,” Leo complained, though he couldn’t be heard over the loud protests of the youngest Dumais kids.

Sirius finally got Adele to let go of him when he started cutting onions—“Do you want to smell like onions?”—but Katie perched on the edge of the counter and watched every move Leo made with eagle eyes as he finished each roux and began mixing the trinity in. Each motion was muscle memory—the smells wrapped him in a hug made of tangy peppers, smooth chicken broth, and a kick of spice at the very end.

Much to his surprise, Sirius, Finn, and Logan were quick learners. Making five massive pots of gumbo was much easier when he had five more hands helping him; Celeste had even been sweet enough to put jazz on as they cooked and the six of them took turns dancing, partnering with whomever was closest.

The others started arriving at five—almost immediately, the kitchen was crowded with ten new hockey players who crammed as close as they could to the stovetop to smell the bubbling broth. Noelle was the only one who was allowed to get within ten feet of the food, much to Talker’s chagrin.

Honestly, it was a miracle that they made it to the table without the rest of the team falling on the gumbo like a pack of wild hyenas who hadn’t eaten for a week. Kasey’s bouncy leg shook the edge of the table in anticipation until Leo reached over and smacked him on the thigh with his spoon. “Be patient, Bliz.”

“I’m always patient!”

Eight different people made noises of protest and he scoffed, leaning his face over the bowl to get a whiff of the thick steam. Dumo tapped his fork on the side of his cup; it wasn’t quite a classy ding-ding, but it made enough noise to catch people’s attention.

“First, thank you all for coming here for a family dinner,” he said, smiling so wide it made Leo’s heart warm. “Second, I’d like to welcome the older and wiser O’Hara to his very first Lions dinner, since he had the great fortune of visiting just in time to be adopted by the team for a night!”

Loud cheers filled the house and Alex gave a slight wave, blushing under the attention as Kasey and Nat jostled him between their shoulders.

“And finally, everyone say ‘thank you’ to Knutty for sharing his top-secret gumbo recipe from home. We might not celebrate Mardi Gras like New Orleans, but this is a party nonetheless.” Dumo raised his water with a wink and Leo squeezed Logan’s hand under the table as seventeen voices thanked him for his cooking, despite the fact that they hadn’t even tasted it yet.

The house went dead silent as people took their first bites, then erupted into noise. “Holy shit, Knutty!” Nado all but shouted, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. “This is witchcraft.”

“It’s called ‘cooking’, you should try it sometime,” Leo shot back, grinning. The chicken thighs melted in his mouth, and the pop of lemon and spice at the back of his throat tingled all the way down to his bones. He didn’t think Pots had taken a breath in thirty straight seconds. Leo closed his eyes, letting the tangled muddle of his family’s voices roll over him, mixing with the taste of home.

“Ça va, mon amour?” Logan asked under his breath, touching his elbow.

Leo smiled and touched their foreheads together, setting his spoon down on the edge of his bowl. “I’m so fucking happy right now.”

Logan smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled. “You look happy.”

“You two are whispering without me?” Finn whined, scooting his chair over a few inches and squishing Logan between them. His bowl was already half-empty, Leo noted with a sense of satisfaction. “That’s rude.”

“I love you,” Leo said. It needed no embellishments; no big, dramatic displays. “And I love making food for everyone.”

“You can do it any time, baby rookie.” Kasey scraped the sides of his bowl to catch the last few grains of cornbread, knocking his knee with Leo’s. “Next time we have a sleepover, I’m not ordering pizza.”

“So I’m going to be your personal chef?” Leo snorted. “Not a chance.”

“What’s that saying? The Mardi Gras one?”

Leo savored his next bite of gumbo and looked around the table as everyone chatted and laughed at the top of their lungs. “Laissez les bon temps rouler,” he said. “Let the good times roll.”

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thesquidkid · 3 years

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Pose sur mon épaule, tes peines et tes plaies

Little fic centered around Isobel. I had this idea since I watched the s1 finale, of Isobel learning to live her life, and that idea fully grew after 3x09. I still included the original plans I had, so there are probably some elements that aren't canon compliant but I wanted to keep my first draft.

Title from "Pause", by Eddy de Pretto & Yseult, it translates to "Lay on my shoulder, your sorrows and your wounds"

Read on ao3

Isobel had made her life into her own. She wasn’t a shadow, not her mother’s and not Noah’s. She knew her egg order - scrambled eggs with garlic and parsley, Michael was the one to teach her how to cook. She had a stable job, working as an event planner again, but this time with more control over the events held, and how they were presented. She was close to her parents, but not known as Ann and Dave Evans’ daughter. She had a very solid relationship with her siblings, had more friends than she ever remembered having, and even had a girlfriend.

Overall her life was perfect, but most importantly, it was hers. But she had to fight for it. Break down walls that had been there for years, and had to learn who she was.

She did as Maria suggested, starting with eggs. Remembering what Maria had said about Michael’s junkyard omelette, she drove out to see him, bringing bagels and coffee (three cups, as she had correctly guessed that Alex would be around). Michael then proceeded to cook her different variations of eggs, under the amused glaze of both Alex and her own, who were discovering a facet of Michael they didn’t know about.

After many breakfasts spent at the junkyard (more breakfasts than Isobel had ever eaten in her life - turns out that she did actually enjoy eating food in the morning, especially Michael’s inventions), she settled on scrambled eggs with three cloves of garlic and sprinkles of parsley.

But after having figured out how she liked her eggs, there were still many more pieces of her that she didn’t know. So she went to see Max next.

At Max’s house, the two of them sat on a couch, “What’s my favourite book?” Isobel asked, making Max turn to her with wide eyes and confused look.

“I didn’t know you read.” he replied slowly, trying to remember ever seeing her with a book. She usually only read articles, whether it was online or in the local newspapers, Isobel always made sure to keep on top of the latest. But she didn’t read many books, at least not that Max knew.

“No, I don’t, that’s the point,” Isobel said back, dropping her head in her hands. She took a few shallow breaths, before speaking up again, her head still hidden. “At first I followed what mom did, which was reading health and fitness magazines. And then with Noah, he would read the local news so I would do the same. I don’t have a favourite book, Max! Hell, I can’t even tell you the last book I read.” She nearly shouted at the end, raising her head to meet Max.

Max, feeling his sister’s distress he scooped closer to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her, Isobel leaning into the touch, her head dropping on his shoulder.

“Well, I have many books around here, and I have a library subscription so we can go check it out if you want,” he suggested, rubbing his thumb in circles on her shoulder.

Isobel snorted, “I don’t even know where to start.” After a beat, she spoke again, “And please, don’t make me read your boring russian literature, I already know I won’t like it,” she said teasingly.

“You never know,” Max chuckled back, before going back to the subject at hand. “But more seriously, I don’t only read boring russian literature, I have some old english stuff too, and quite a big collection of fantasy books. And I know Alex and Michael have read their fair share of science fiction books too, so maybe between all of us we can help find which genre you prefer.” he said, warmly, trying to convey how much he wanted to help.

There wasn’t much Max could do about the past, about Noah and their mother, but he could be there in the present and in the future. He could share his book collection with Isobel, maybe even start a book club, anything she needed from him.

Isobel sniffed and sat up. “Okay, yeah let’s do that!” she said excitedly, standing up. “So,” she continued, turning to Max who was still sitting on the couch with an arm on the back, her hands on her hips, “where do we begin, coach?”

Max laughed and stood up, leading Isobel to his fantasy and romance books, explaining the plot to each book, and giving his opinion on each. Isobel made a few jokes, but both appreciated this little moment, where Max got to share something he was passionate about.

After having gone through all of Max’s books, they headed to the library the next day, to have a look there. Isobel had taken three books from Max’s house and three more from the library, with the promise to come back and discuss books more, until she knew which one she liked. And maybe discuss the movie adaptations too.

She settled on The Sisterhood of the traveling pants, a book that initially didn’t attract her, but the nice (and very attractive librarian) told her that it was a good book that all young teenagers could relate to. Putting aside how she could’ve known that Isobel didn’t necessarily have any characters she could understand growing up, she smiled and grabbed the book. And read it in just two days, going back to the library to finish the series.

Continuing on her path, she discovered her favourite movies with the help of Maria, her favourite music genre thanks to Rosa and Alex, and even her favourite exhibition by dragging Kyle or Liz around to Albuquerque (mostly because those two needed a break from work, and they were both people Isobel liked to hang out with).

Overall, it took her a month to rebuild her life and feel like she was her own person, not someone who was pretending for the sake of others. And she knew that she still had work to do, so when her hot librarian broke up with her, she stayed single for a while, figuring out more about herself in that time.

And eventually, she looked at the people around her. Her sister who had started Isobel’s self discovery journey. Her brothers on whose shoulder she rested her head, her problems, her sorrows. Her friends who became like a family, present in her daily life but allowing her to grow by herself, having her back whenever she needed to rest before fighting again. And even the funny, smart, very good looking doctor, who recently had started to become more than just a friend.

Isobel knew what she liked. She knew who she was. She was ready to live.

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rokutouxei · 4 years

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you are still the sun that shines for me

part 8 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | G | 3030 | [ao3 in bio]

Life couldn't get any better. You enjoy what you do here, spending your life without regrets with the person you love the most. That is, until you meet her. The woman who still loves Theo.

CHAPTER 1

maybe love stays / maybe love can’t / maybe love shouldn’t. When Love Arrives, Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye

A sight that would change the life of everyone who sees it. That was what one of the head sponsors of the gallery called the show when you and Theo finally showed them the results of months of long work. An extraordinary compliment, to say the least. Standing there under the bright lights seeing the works of your new-artists-and-also-close-friends there for the world to see… all you can do is grin in delight.

Theo can do anything.

Great with his words, even better with his actions, hardworking to a fault and with a persistence and endurance that’s extremely admirable. Then, under all that, a heart that’s molten gold, filled with nothing but love and passion. The fact that he’s so also strikingly attractive, his eyes piercing, is also bonus points on anyone’s book, for sure.

You’re so glad to be able to help him out with his dreams.

You walk around the gallery to mingle with the artists and congratulate them with the success. They throw the compliment and the gratitude back to you and Theo, and you fall back into a comfortable kind of banter. For a moment, you dream of the future: little family of artists and art dealers, standing up and rising towards a new tomorrow for art.

You turn towards where Theo is across the room, and the both of you share a smile at each other when you make eye contact. He’s currently talking to some patrons, and while you’re lucky that you’ve met a lot that aren’t as backward, there are still high-paying ones with great influence that are, at their very core, still rather misogynistic, so Theo had said he’d take over this discussion himself.

He’d asked you to enjoy the exhibit, have some of the food, ask the guests of their thoughts in his stead. (“You say that as if it’s hard—that’s the fun part!” you’d told him.)

While watching the coming and going of people, for a reason you don’t understand at that moment, you’re drawn to a particular pair of guests: a young boy, maybe in his pre-teens, fumbling awkwardly in his suit, and a woman in her late 30s, walking with him. A mother and her son, perhaps. They seem to be having a lively conversation with each other with every painting, discussing it with an intensity that probably mimics yours and Theo’s.

Perhaps they’re patrons of the arts too?

You get an odd urge to come up to them. You don’t fight it, knowing fully well you still have a job to do—again, check on the guests—so taking a sip out of the champagne you’re nursing, you approach them.

The boy steps into the next section of the gallery before you can get there. Well, you’re not really as good at kids as Theo—so that’s probably for the better.

“Bonjour, madame,” you say with a short bow. “Enjoying the exhibit?”

“Very much so, yes,” the woman says. “Are you perhaps one of the artists?”

“Oh, no, just an organizer.” The woman looks surprised, but oddly pleased—maybe she does this sort of work, too? You beam. “How are you finding it?”

“Brilliant, I have to admit,” she answers you. “The curators really had an eye for the style. Not the usual—no, near scandalous, but beautiful. Hard to take one’s eyes off the canvases.”

The two of you fall into a rather lively discussion, one topic flowing into another. What started with a rather sharp analysis of the painting you’d found her in front of (“the intimate brush strokes even at the tiniest of details really is what makes it so much more… dreamlike.” “I agree! All those little things in dreams that doesn’t seem to make sense, but make it all the more true in that moment.” “Exactly. It adds a personality to it, and with these colors—“ “These colors!”) slowly evolved into a quick back and forth about art, aesthetic, and culture. You get so into the discussion you almost don’t notice the young boy having finished his rounds at the gallery, now standing behind his mother, listening intently at the discussion.

“It’s so lovely to have someone as invested in this that’s a woman as well,” you finally comment, your champagne flute empty and your confidence soaring after an exciting conversation. “Sometimes I still get stared down when I talk to clients.”

She nods, a little sadly. “I can only imagine. I was not born of money, really, but I have a bit on me, and that’s really the only way I can get most of the influential powers to listen to what I have to say.”

“Oh?” That piques your curiosity. “Do you run a gallery or an artist workshop too, madame?”

She waves you off. “Nothing of the sort. I’d just inherited a grand array of valuable paintings—beautiful, yet, like most of these kinds of art, very much still misunderstood and looked down upon.”

“A consideration of the style, perhaps?”

“Yes, very much so,” she says. “They’re… intense, to say the least. But just because it is not understood now, doesn’t mean it will not be of importance in the future. So I’m looking forward to connecting with galleries, like this one, perhaps, and museums, bring his paintings out into the world.”

His paintings. Oh, how much like Theo. “That’s a remarkable goal.”

“Rather absurd for but a woman like me, I’d say,” she comments, a dry laugh at the end. “This wasn’t my mission, just one I have to continue. Besides, they’ll do better in galleries like this than hanging in rows in my kitchen.”

“Someone once told me the best art in the world is still hidden, waiting to be found,” you say. It was Theo who had told you that.

She nods. “For sure. And you’re doing your fair share of searching, if this exhibit is any clue.” She turns away from you for a moment, and then her eyes widen at the sight of something. You’re about to turn around to peep what it is when she turns to you abruptly. “I’m sorry, but I have someone I must talk to, so I’ll go ahead.” She turns to the boy. “Lieveling?”

“Can I stay a little longer with her, mama?” the boy asks. You’re… surprised, to say the least, considering he’s just been listening quietly the whole time.

Mama. Had you misheard that, or was that not exactly French in sound? Wait… what did she call him?

“As long as you’ll behave,” the woman says. Ah, the woman! You hadn’t even gotten to ask her name! You’re about to ask when she turns and—“I’m sorry, I’ll come back for him really quickly. You may leave him if you have somewhere else to go; he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

This time, with annoyance. “Mama.”

“Yes, yes.” The woman bows and starts to walk away, off into a corner where you saw the shadow of a few of the richer patrons disappear into much earlier.

Perhaps she’d recognized one of them? Maybe it’s related to the paintings she was talking about earlier—perhaps she’s about to reach out. You silently wish her good luck in your head as you turn to the boy in front of you.

Not knowing where to begin, you say: “How old are you, can I ask?”

“I just turned ten,” he says. “Being ten is great. I don’t want to be treated like a little boy anymore.”

You take note of that and straighten your back. He’d probably hate if you crouched to meet him eye to eye—not that you’d need to do much of it, considering he was pretty tall for a ten-year-old boy. “Ten is a fun age to be. Well, what does the big ten-year-old want to ask me?”

“Can you talk about the paintings a little more?” he asks, refusing to look you in the eye, looking around the exhibit pensively. “You and mama… really understood each other, and I can’t keep up with her…”

You narrow your eyebrows. So the expression you’d seen from him earlier was less of excitement, but more of… confusion? Asking questions to his mother about what he couldn’t understand, and less of enthusiasm of the artwork? “Your mama made it sound like you live in an art-filled house.”

“We do,” the boy admits. “And that’s why it’s hard. I’m ten now and sometimes I still don’t understand what she’s saying. I get it, they’re pretty, but… then what? Machines—those make more sense to me. All the art and feelings… I don’t get it. They’re like magic to me.”

A boy with a passion for art who hasn’t found his footing in it yet, the words to brace himself with, the road to walk. You used to be just like that too. This is a great way to pay it forward, you tell yourself. “Well, I’d love to talk to you about the art pieces, mon apprenti. But first—I’ll have to know your name.”

You introduce yourself with a bow in French, thinking a little roleplay won’t hurt. This is still a child, after all, and you want to be at least an enjoyable tutor. He plays along, taking your hand in his in a little formal bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Vincent Willem van Gogh.”

Something inside your chest squeezes.

The little boy finally looks up, granting you the full strength of his gaze for the first time that whole day.

Deep, striking sea-blue eyes, just like Theo’s.

If Theo were to be completely honest, he would say he hated dealing with these patrons in particular. Misogynist and backwards, he couldn’t even bring you with him to discuss with them because they would just end up spending more time slandering your skills and knowledge about art than actually working out a good deal. But connections are things to be made, not broken, in this trade, and so with a half-hearted smile and a kiss from you to his cheek, that day at the gallery, he’d sent you off to enjoy the art while he talked with the stuck-up rich old men.

At least they have some interesting thoughts about art and money to entertain him, he thinks, as he nurses a glass of whiskey (“Just one! You’re not going to make me carry you home!” you had reminded him, jabbing at his lightweightedness, so he was taking his sweet time with it). He sure would rather have better, deeper conversation, the likes that stimulated the mind and kept him asking for more, but he can’t be picky in a place like this when he–

“Monsieur Theodore?”

A small voice that sends ice down his spine. He steels his features, but he can’t do the same to his heart.

He turns around and something deep inside of him, one that he’s long kept in dark sealed boxes in the shadows of the labyrinth of his mind, breaks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, a small, elegant curtsey. “Je suis Johanna van Gogh.”

The part of him that’s human, the one he says has long died, the one that he’s buried, comes back to life in a searing flash of regret and pain. She looks older now–well, a near decade since he’s up and gone–the lines around her eyes deeper, but she also looks finer, more mature; the small blossom he’d left so long ago has now bloomed into a beautiful flower. Oh, his sweet Jo.

He tries his best not to look if she’s still wearing the ring he gave her on her left hand.

He doesn’t hear himself reply, as he tries not to bite down the words. He doesn’t know anymore if he’s lying when he says he is pleased to meet her. “It’s nice to meet a fellow van Gogh.”

She laughs, a little awkward one that’s full of pain. “Yes, a real interesting coincidence.” A beat; Theo sinks into familiarity. That hesitation, the way she pulls quickly backward into herself to rearrange her composure when confidence quickly fails her. She turns away for a moment—which Theo uses to step closer—before she faces him once more, her gaze making him feel small.

“I’m sorry for asking, but… have we met somewhere else before?”

And Theo wants to say yes, because besides the more obvious signs a decade leaves on a human body, Jo looks the same as Theo has kept burned in the backrooms of his memory. They’ve met before—he recognizes her. Her lovely, dark brown hair ever so impeccably styled practically and yet with a subtle kind of charm. The dimples on her cheeks, so deep he used to joke with her and poke a finger into it. The golden caramel color of her eyes, so wide and eager and passionate.

Jo had always been rather plain, and that’s what’s made her really beautiful. There was no need for excesses with her: everything was just exactly as was needed. And it seems that the years haven’t changed that in her, either. Her deep blue dress is fashionable but not extraordinarily so; her smile calculated for politeness but with enough genuineness in it to be truly lovely.

She’s exactly the same, and that’s why it hurts, that’s why Theo wants to say—

Yes. “I don’t believe so, no.”

She continues to look into him and it takes all his strength to not look away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just–my late husband was named Theo as well, and just–”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Theo fills, doesn’t want to hear the rest of it. There’s a knot in his throat and he’s trying not to think about it.

Why did he have to look so different? What curtain of reality is hiding him from the woman he loved most, in that past life? Why didn’t she recognize that it was him she was talking to?

Did he want her to recognize who she was talking to?

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I heard that this entire exhibit wouldn’t have run up without you. Congratulations.”

“I wasn’t alone,” not alone, not alone, not alone, “this was the hard work of the artists and my business partner.” Partner, partner, partner.

“It’s excellent work,” she comments, then pulls back. “Not–I’m not trained, of course. But my husband, he was an art dealer too, loved his career, it rubs off.”

“Art is a good thing to lose yourself into,” he finds himself saying. Theo doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He’s choking on the inside and he doesn’t want it to show. Who is he to tell her what’s good for her? When he’s the one who’s left all those wounds on her by leaving her? “It’s a beautiful thing, it grows.” Fills the empty spaces. There’s a thorn in his chest that’s becoming more prominent by the second.

And it hurts only worse when she beams. “Yes, that’s absolutely right. I have much to learn, he’s left me so much behind–aha, maybe one day I’ll ask for your help–and there’s so much I want to do.”

“You’re a passionate woman, Madame Johanna. You would surely make him proud.”

You will. You do. You always have.

She smiles. A steady, confident smile, the one that had made him fall in love with her what seems like a million lifetimes ago. “Thank you, Monsieur Theodore. Excuse me if it may seem rude, but it’s so hard not to think of mijn Theo when I see you.”

“I hope it’s not the sort that pains you.”

“Well, there is only so much time one can spend waist-high in mourning,” she says with a sweet smile. “He’s given me all that I can ask for, now it’s just a matter of getting to work.”

Theo wants to say something but his conscience holds him back. Jo has turned her gaze to the rows of paintings in the gallery, a smile filled with nostalgia on her face. Like she’s returning to a place a million years ago. Perhaps to the same place Theo is in as well, in his head.

She turns back to him slowly, the look on her face unearthing hidden wounds that suddenly feel still-too-raw. “I may not be able to do much, but you, sir—I think the both of you have the same kind of heart…I hope you get to continue what he only got to start.”

Theo feels helpless, left with nothing more to say, even if he knows there is so much left to tell. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to be part of this conversation anymore—a right he’d forfeited the day he’d left this life without second thought, blinded by the darkness of revenge.

Look at all this, Theodorus, he can hear Gauguin say in his head, the voice of the secret phantom who still lives in his unconscious, even if this was so long before, was it worth it? Has it ever been worth it?

Johanna, once his beloved Jo, does a curtsey, a quick excuse me as she finally sets off to leave. Theo tries to say a goodbye, a nice to have spoken to you, a see you again soon, but he doesn’t know if any of it has made it out of his mouth. Instead, he follows her away with his eyes, taking a sip at the whiskey that burns in his throat.

Was it worth it?

Sees her greet you of all people, and you nod at her with an indescribable look on your face.

What did it cost?

Theo’s gaze is glued onto the young boy Johanna van Gogh guides out with her, with his mother’s hair, the same sea blue of his father’s eyes.

Of Theo’s eyes.

Have you ever really ever known how much you’ve lost?

The cool tendrils of dread begin to fill him.

Across the room, you send the mother and child away with a heavy, empty gaze.

---

you are still the sun that shines for me is a 5-chapter fic that will be posted from October 25-28! catch what else is in the atelier later on in this fic. :)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevam #ikevam theo #atelier heart #fic #you are still the sun that shines for me

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paodequeijofeliz-blog · 4 years

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I would do it all again

Ride or Die Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Mona and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after the first book.

Summary: After what happened at the parking lot, each member of the crew tries to build a new life, following the “every man for himself” motto. But Annie doesn’t agree with that and tries to pull them back together, especially Mona, who she has been waiting for too many years.

Warnings: some Angst talk, but not much.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I would do it all again - Part 7 (FINALE)

People weren’t allowed on campus after 10 p.m. The gates were closed, and securities would wonder around, keeping it safe. From what, Mona had no idea, it was just a huge old building with lots of books in it. Even the computers were too old to worth robbing. She just smiled at that vision, not much of a challenge for her. Sneaking in the darkness, the woman found her way to jump over the wall, fast and silent.

In a few minutes, Mona was already walking through the hallways, clever to keep her distance from the windows. Where did you hide… It looked like the classrooms were all empty.

“Library.” Said a man’s voice. It was the janitor, standing next to the restroom’s door. “She likes to stay there. I leave it unlocked.”

She studied him for a moment but nodded her thanks.

Library was on the third floor and had a light on. Of course Annie would hide between books. Mona crossed it like a lightning, following the heart-breaking sound of a soft crying only to find her girlfriend sitting on the corner. She had a huge coat covering her body, probably something kept in the trunk for cold days. Her face was flushed under the yellow light, a few slow tears still rolling down.

Slowly, the Lebanese took a step closer and sat in front of Annie. Nobody said anything for a while, as the girl kept her gaze down, wiping the tears away. It was so quiet there that Mona could swear she was hearing their hearts beating: hers, faster, like a race car; Annie’s, slow, sad, tired.

After what it seemed like an eternity, the sobbing girl took a deep breath and said something.

“I never meant…”

“I’m sorry.” Mona interrupted. Were her hands shaking? She shoved them into the jacket’s pockets to hide it. “I didn’t want you to find out that way. I didn’t want you to find out at all, actually. You’re right to be upset. I should’ve told you about Ada and our… Short relationship… In prison. You asked me not to fool you and I did. I lied. Fucked it up.”

Annie blinked, her mouth opened, but there was no sound, so the Lebanese took it as a sign and carried on.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I really am. You gave me all the time and space to come clean, I guess I was just… I was just…” she roamed her hands through the dark hair, searching for the right word. “Scared.”

Again, silence. The girl fixed her posture, bit her lower lip, but didn’t say a thing.

“I was scared you would leave.” That was barely a whisper. “That this would be too much for you to accept.”

“I’m not upset about that.”

Mona arched her eyebrows, surprised. “No?”

“No. Of course not. You never promised me anything back then, Mon. I can’t demand or be mad at your for being with someone else. How selfish do you think I am?”

“Wait. So, you’re not upset about Ada?”

“Well, I am bothered that she was standing so close to you today, cause now we are truly dating. But that’s not what really hurt me.” Annie sighed and reached for Mona’s hands. They were warm and squeezed hers in a reassuring way. “I never meant to trap you into a boring life. I don’t want to change who you are, never did. After all of that, I just wanted you to be safe. And that’s all I have. I’m sorry, I can’t keep you safe in a big house, with all the wonderful stuff you deserve. I’m a teacher, a doctorate student, who drives an old car and buys cheap red pens. I’m so sorry. I love you, but I can’t give you what you want.”

That’s when it hit Mona. It wasn’t the part about being together with another woman that made the girl run away. Not jealousy or disappointment.

She was just feeling small.

“Babe, what Ada said about the things I want or enjoy, that wasn’t true.” The Lebanese let out a laugh of relief. The problem was so much easier. “Gee, is that what’s hurting you? Then look at me, and I’ll repeat it: I want to be here. I want to be with you. I want you and everything related to you. Screw the fancy hotels and jewels. They’re from a part of my life I was dead inside, in rage, alone. I’d trade all of it to run an auto shop with two great friends and a hot girlfriend who sneaks into a freakin’ library when she’s sad.”

Annie had her eyes filled with tears again. But she was smiling. A broad, happy smile. “Do you mean it? Are you sure? Cause if I’m doing it wrong…”

Mona stopped her sentence midway by pulling her into a kiss, straddling that silly, cute girl while making her run out of breath. Now she had the face flushed again, but it wasn’t of crying. “Yeah. Dumbass. I’m sure.”

“So, you’re not sad about living a calmer life from now on?”

“As calm as we can make it. You know problems will follow me forever. I still have to pee in a cup for my parole officer. And Ada won’t leave me alone for too long. You heard it. I gave her my word when we did… It.”

Annie tilted her head, slightly confused. “When she said, ‘when we killed that girl’? I thought she meant you. When she turned you into a high profile criminal.”

“It wasn’t a metaphor.” Mona eyes darkened, but her hands were holding the girl close. She didn’t want to lose her. “Ada had a fight with my cell mate. She suffocated her with a pillow while I… While I was watching. At the door. I didn’t do anything to stop her. It felt like I was frozen there.”

“I’m sorry.” Annie touched her cheek.

“She has been holding it against me ever since. I didn’t do anything to help. I didn’t move. I didn’t…”

“You were in shock. I know you did a lot of bad things in your life, Mon. But you’re not a murderer. That’s why you froze.”

“This will haunt me forever.” Her voice became a whisper again.

“We’ll find a way to get through it. Trust me.”

Mona took a deep breath. Foreheads together, they were losing themselves in each other’s gaze. The Lebanese felt broken in so many ways, and yet somehow, she could find peace in that girl’s face.

“After everything you did for us? I trust you. Blindly.”

“I would do it all again.”

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

“Here’s more beer!” Toby lifted two boxes while walking inside the shop, a credit card hanging in his month.

“Leave it on the fridge and take a cold one for you!” Ximena was sitting on a nice red car’s hood, next to a smiley Annie.

“Nice!” he grabbed a bottle and threw himself on one of those rolling chairs that was left around, spinning closer to them. “The food?”

“Mona’s bringing it.” Said the tattooed girl, stopping him with her foot. “You’ll get dizzy.”

“She’s taking forever. Isn’t the diner just across the street?” Toby took a gulp of his beer, too distracted to notice the expression on Annie’s face.

“Yeah, well, she had a doctor’s appointment today too. Just some check-up. X, do you have the camera?”

“Sure thing, all set!”

A couple minutes later, the old dusty car, Harold, parked beside the fancy red one. Mona jumped out of it with huge bags of burgers and fries. Ximena gladly took it out of her arms and went to leave them on the table, followed by a hungry Toby. “Finally! I’m starving.”

“Hey, babe.” She gave her girl a kiss on the cheek, pulling her closer by the waist.

“Hi, you. How was therapy?” Annie kept her voice low, careful so they wouldn’t listen.

Mona only rolled her eyes, giving the same answer as always. “Boring.”

But it wasn’t true. She was enjoying it. Well, at least, respecting it enough. Otherwise, the Lebanese wouldn’t be going there again every month for the past year. Annie knew it, but why not let the woman have her tough attitude?

“I bet it was.” She lingered for a while on those dark eyes, before suddenly realizing the noises in the kitchen. “Hey, you two! No eating now! Let’s take the picture first. Just bring the beers!”

Toby showed up with a mouth filled with French fries and two extra bottles on his hands. “He’ ya gu.”

“Did you steal some fries?” Annie shook her head dramatically, pretending to be hurt. “How could you????”

“No, I…” he swallowed the rest of it, taking a gulp of beer to help. “No, I didn’t. Me? A thief? Never! I’m totally against crimes.”

“Alright, timer is set to ten seconds! So, everybody, get into place.” Ximena had put the camera on top of a few boxes carefully positioned in front of the shop. It could frame them together with the neon letters on the top.

Mona took the extra bottles from Toby, giving one to Annie while sitting next to her on the car hood. “Cheers to that. Let’s go, X!”

“Annnnnd, now! Ten seconds!” the tattoo artist ran towards then, sitting on the floor, right in front of the red car, her long arms grabbing each one of the women’s legs. Toby preferred to stay up next to them, sticking his tongue out while his right arm was in the air with the bottle of beer in his hand.

The flash blinded them for a second. The first picture as a group again.

“So?” Mona took a long gulp, throwing an arm around Annie’s neck.

Ximena was still shaking the polaroid. “Patience!”

“Oooh I look like one of those dangerous bass players in a Rock band.” Said Toby, peeking over her shoulders.

“Here! What do ya think?”

“Nice!” the Lebanese smiled, proud of how hot she looked in that picture.

Annie needed a little longer. She held the photo and admired it for a moment. They seemed so cool. The cars, the pose, the purple neon letters forming the name RIDE OR DIE.

It was just the beginning of their new lives.

Tagging: @kamilahsayeet2063 (hope you like it <3)

#mona x mc #choices: stories you play #choices: ride or die #now this one #now I'm going to stick with one shots

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hamilkilo · 7 years

Text

Feathers

Prompt: Could I request PolyHamilsquad with a s/o from an abusive background who's very insecure and constantly judging themself and worrying what others think? But if you don't feel comfortable writing this kind of thing its fine just forget it. Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader TW: mentions of abuse, abusive parents, language, anxiety, insecure reader, mentions self harm, throwing up, crying, fluff, it's fluff A/N: hey! Thank you for your patience! This was a difficult one to write because I wanted to convey that the reader was insecure, but I also wanted her to stand up for herself. I wanted to show that she had changed since her previous situation! I hope this is what you were looking for! I banked on personal experience minus the caring boyfriends for this piece, so I hope y'all can relate! If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always here! If you want me to tag something, please tell me! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please enjoy! Word Count: 1509 You stared at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed your hair one more time, smoothed your shirt. You fiddled with the hem, trying to get it to lay just perfectly across your jeans. You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist, trying to get them to lie parallel with each other. You wanted everything to be perfect. Pristine. "Y/N? You ready to go?" Alex called, and you nodded to yourself in the mirror before you joined him in the bedroom. He gave you a once over and smiled. "Stunning." You rolled your eyes at him, and he took your hand. He was in casual jeans and a hoodie. He looked so effortless and cute. You felt like you looked frumpy. The others were already waiting in the living room, each casually dressed and still looking like angels. How did you even get these four? You tugged on the hem of your shirt anxiously. What if they thought you were frumpy? "Ready, mon chou?" Laf asked as he took your hand in his and kissed it. You nodded bashfully before they led you out. You got in the back seat of the Range Rover with Alex and John, who kept complimenting how cute you were, and they would brush their fingers over your cheek or pat your knee. They knew how self conscious you could get. They understood. Herc drove to the Brick House, your favorite pizzeria, and he parked. Y'all got out of the car, Alex helping you down, and you immediately adjusted your shirt. He took your hand and led you into the restaurant with the boys. They were loud, which put you a little on edge. Whenever you had gone to dinner with your family, it was quiet, regal. No one raised their voice. It was quiet chatter about how blue the sky was. Well, that, and it was interrogation time to see how well you were doing in school. Anything less than an A was intolerable. Other than that, you were expected to keep your head down. "Children are meant to be seen and not heard." "Y/N? What would you like to drink?" John gently asked you, and you looked up to see the waiter waiting for your answer. Everyone was staring at you expectantly. You had been too engrossed in your childhood stroll down memory lane. "Uhh, water?" You ordered softly, eyes downcast. You were always told to speak softly and to be withdrawn. If you spoke up, someone else might notice you. You didn't want that. You bit your lip as the waiter walked off and John took your hand. You looked over at him, and he gave you a kind, dimpled grin. "You doing okay?" You nodded, "Yeah. I'm just, uh, thinking about stuff." John squeezed your hand. "Well, I'm always here to talk if you want." You blushed, "Thank you." You squeezed his hand, then went back to blankly staring at your menu. "-and he says, are you ready for this? I don't think you're ready! He opens his fat mouth to say some shit! He goes, 'Mr. Washington, I'm sure Alexander thinks he knows the solution, just like he thinks that's a good fashion choice. Just because he thinks, doesn't mean he knows, do you get what I mean?' He said that! HE HAD THE SHEER AUDACITY!" Alex began shouting, and John rolled his eyes. "He's full of it, Alex. All that comes out of his mouth is shit-" John's voice began to fade out as you were drawn back into a spiral. When you were thirteen, you were friends with the neighbors across the street and a house down. They loved to play with you, and their parents loved talking to you. One day, one of the boys you'd hang out with asked about your dad. He said that some nights, he could hear your father screaming at you from all the way to his house. You tried to blow it off, so he asked your sister, who told your father you'd been telling people about how he screamed and got in your face and belittled you. He'd always said, "What goes on at home, stays at home." You swore, up and down, on the pizza that had just come to your table in the upscale pizzeria he took your family to, that you didn't tell him anything, but he refused to listen. He'd shouted, "All that comes out of your mouth is shit!" And he'd stormed from the restaurant, making a scene. You cried so hard you threw up in the bathroom, and your mom dragged you to the car. It was a tense car ride home. You still have scars from where you dug your nails into yourself from the anxiety. "That's unfair," you whispered. Then you cleared your throat, "Th...That's not true. You don't even know what... what they say when you aren't around... you... you can't possibly know... you aren't there... they're... they're more than a pile of shit, okay?" Your voice was wobbly, and you had to pause to take breaths. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You couldn't look at any of them. What if you offended them? Why'd you have to go and open your mouth? Why couldn't you just keep quiet? John squeezed your hand, "Hey, hey," he murmured as you trembled, and you looked over at him, biting your lip. "It's okay. I'm sorry; you're right. I didn't mean to trigger you. Are you okay? Do you need something?" You looked over and grabbed your water from the table, taking small sips from it while John rubbed your back. "Sorry, I've just been on edge lately. Bad day," you elaborated, and John nodded in understanding. The boys kept their voices down after that, and you sipped your water. John kept rubbing your back as the dinner progressed. When the food came out, you had asked for a cup of ranch to dip your pizza in, but the waiter forgot. You weren't going to say anything; it wasn't a big deal. You didn't want to make it a big deal. But John reminded the waiter for you, since he knew you hated confrontation of any degree. You lightly conversed with the boys as you ate, John making a consistent effort to pull you into conversation. John understood your situation better than the other boys. He related more. Once, when you had first started dating, you had admitted to him that you felt out of place. "I feel like it's me. I just, I feel like the bad things that happen are my fault. Like, I'm the bad thing. It doesn't matter that I'm not at my house anymore... it doesn't matter that my dad isn't here... it's my fault. It follows me. I'm a screw up... I... I don't deserve you..." you had started crying, waiting for John to leave, but he didn't. He had crouched on the floor in front of you, and he gently grabbed your shoulders. "Look at me, Y/N. That's not true, okay? You did not deserve to get screamed at. Have any of us screamed at you? Have I ever screamed at you? No. It's because you don't deserve that. You deserve better. What your dad did to you was not your fault. You are not a bad person. I've known you for a while, and I see a loving, kind, generous, good person. I've never seen you do a thing that would make you bad. Even if you did, I would still love you. We would all still love you. You aren't perfect, and that's okay. You don't have to be perfect. You are not a doll on a shelf. Messing up, not getting pristine grades, being late to an occasion, it happens, but it doesn't make you a bad person. You are a person. A person is a person. No matter where you've been or what you've done, you are valid, and you deserve to be treated like a person, like a human with rights. Always." He understood when you were triggered or stressed, just like you understood when he was on edge or aloof. You got each other. Birds of a feather, flock together. The boys knew, to an extent, how to help. They knew how to hold you and whisper to you after a nightmare since they'd practiced with John. They knew how patient they sometimes had to be when you were having a bad day. They knew the words you needed to hear so you didn't devour yourself. They knew, and they did whatever they could to help. When you got home from the dinner, they held you close, reassured you of how much they loved you, how perfect you were. They loved you a lot, you knew that, but it was still really nice and helpful to hear it. When they kissed your cheek, you knew that you'd be okay. They'd take care of you, they'd love you, they'd never leave you, and you would be okay.

#alexander hamilton #hamilton #hamiltrash #hamilsquad #polyamory #polyhamilsquad #poly!hamilsquad #hercules #hercules mulligan #marquis de lafayette #john laurens #laurens #fanfiction #fanfic #my work #my writing

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mymoonnstars · 7 years

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The Fabulous Lives of the Bangtan Boys

A/N: Here we go with chapter two! We have more of a set release schedule now so expect a more consistent flow of things. Enjoy my friends!

Co-created with the wonderful @notsoshockingtaylor

Genre: adventure/angst

What started this beautiful mess

Prologue

Chapter 1

“What have you become when they take from you almost everything”

“Welcome to Battery City’s North station.” The automated woman’s voice over the loud speaker echoed through the tunnel. Jungkook didn’t have much trouble getting back into the city. As everything became familiar again, he took a sign of relief. He took the wide set of stairs back up to ground level into the local park. He didn’t have to do too much grooming before getting on the train thankfully. A 5-minute walk later, he stood in front of his building. It looked different this time. He took some time to figure out what it could be that made the structure seem new. However, Rap Monsters voice rang in his mind. “One hour”. It already took him 23 minutes to get back to his housing unit. Though what he found after climbing the stairs was for sure new.

CONTAMINATED

The word was everywhere. Police tape covered his front door.

“How could they have known?” Jungkook whispered to himself. “I haven’t even been gone a full day!” He felt his voice rise with the pressure of his blood. The door was unlocked and he stepped through the tape. Stickers with that word labeled all his furniture. CONTAMINATED. His unit had been ransacked. Possibly looking for signs of kidnapping? They obviously knew the Bangtan boys were there last night. They must have swept the building asking for witnesses. CONTAMINATED. Jungkook and all his belongings were now at contaminated status. As if the zone people were a disease. Even just the desert dust was seen as a virus. Jungkook was now a virus. He stared through that same window as the title of outcast sunk into the back of his mind. His eyes wandered to the bathroom next. The city pill. Thankfully they hadn’t taken it yet. He grabbed his old school bag and stuffed essentials in it. A soft anger bubbled under each of his thoughts as he grabbed food or anything he thought was survival related. He threw the backpack on and tried to pull the classic Better Living Ind. Smile as best he could. Pressing his ear to the door, he listened for neighbors he would rather not run into. He stepped through the tape and tip toed down the stairs. He had a feeling this would be the last time he walked this route.

………………………………………………………..

Jungkook jogged out to the meeting spot after hopping off the train. The headache made the motions worse and the thought of taking another dose to fix everything was his only motivation. The low hum of the Bangtan Boys car creeped down the road to meet him. Jungkook couldn’t look any of them in the eyes. He just stood there in the middle of the road as the car stopped in front of him. He heard the sound of the car doors opening and closing. Everything in the desert world was so loud. It reminded him of the teacher’s ruler smacking the vision board in school when the class lost focus. Where was Jungkooks focus now?

“You made it. I guess we can consider that your first test.” Rap Monster approached with the other boys behind him. All Jungkook could do was look up at him, fearing that if he did any more, his fury would release. He had never felt real anger before. Rap Mon leaned to look behind him and nod his head at Suga Rush. Suga walked forward and grabbed the backpack off Jungkooks back. That was the trigger for Jungkook and he lashed out, trying to grab the bag back. “What the hell man! What are you doing?!” Suga was deadly quick though. Jungkook had no strength left. He sunk to his knees and let his head fall into his hands. “You needed closure.” They knew what would happen. It didn’t matter how they knew, but they did and they let him think everything would be fine. “We won’t be allowing you any more doses. If you stop taking them, you won’t need them eventually.” Rap Monster said. His voice was sharper than the afternoon sun that beat down. The members walked back around the car and got back in. Jungkook felt a hand gently placed on his back. When he looked up, it was Jin. He had a face that said I’m sorry. Jin helped him stand up and led him to the car. “Time to show you your new home.” Rap Monster tried to add some sympathy into his voice as he started the car.

It was a silent drive for at least an hour. All Jungkook could do was stare out the window thinking about how suddenly his life changed. He had only heard rumors about the zone people and now he would be one for the rest of his life. Something about that fact was exciting, but the physical toll his body had taken that day wouldn’t let him feel much. Jin finally leaned in and broke the silence. “You can survive without a next dose you know. You will have to deal with some headaches and nightmares, but those are the short term effects.” Jin spoke with a very calming voice. It was exactly what Jungkook needed at the moment. “And there are long term effects?” he asked. “Unfortunately yes. Confusion between reality and memory distortion will be the more prominent ones.” Jin was so serious he looked sad, but he caught himself and softly smiled as he gathered encouraging words. “I have a camera. If you ever need to confirm anything you can look at the photos I’ve taken. I might even let you borrow it if you want.” He offered. “Hyung, how do you know about the long term effects?” Jin was silent now. Almost as if he was saying that story is for another time.

At last, the car slowed to a stop. They were just barely hidden by a fallen billboard on the side of the road. Jungkook watched everyone get out of the car, but couldn’t find any sign of life. He tried to ask anything but the lack of water for almost a full day caught up to his throat. Jin leaned his head into one of the open windows and said, “Follow us”. Jungkook had no choice but to obey. He got out of the car, body shaking, and walked with the others around a giant boulder structure. On the other side from the road, hidden behind the rocks was a makeshift home the size of a town house. Made from giant scraps of tin roofing and wooden boards, it was impressively solid and safe looking. Jungkook took it all in and almost jumped out of his skin when J-Hope jump hugged him from his left side. “Don’t worry! We will give you a proper welcome tonight!” He said. J-Hope wasted no time and pulled him through the front door. The first room was nothing but a living room with a couch and a mirror hanging on the wall. Under the stairs was a door that led to the bathroom. The first floor was decorated with trinkets like string lights hanging from the ceiling and a record player against one wall. Jungkook was surprised to find a refrigerator on the other side. Everyone dumped their blasters on the table by the somewhat of a kitchen area and most ran up the stairs. Rap Mon walked over to the couch and laid out a blanket on the old cushions. “You can crash here for now. Finding a mattress is actually easier than you think. We could have one for you in the next 2 days.” Jungkook wasted no time and took a seat on the couch, still hurting from lack of every survival need. “Why are you treating me so well? I thought I was your pet.” Rap Monster had to let out a laugh. “Pets are still part of a family, right? You are one of us now. You could have just stayed in the city if you wanted to.” He was right. What could have stopped Jungkook from just turning himself in? Rap Mon started to make his way up the stairs. “We’re going to give you the time of your life. Oh, and have a new name chosen by tonight.”

#killjoy!bts #bangtan boys #killjoy au #adventure #angst #parody #stay tuned for more!

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gldngrl7 · 7 years

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Karamel Fic: A Favor Among Friends

So, I did this thing. I’ve been working on it for a while, steering clear of other Karamel fics during this time so I’m not influenced by them, It started with a small idea and kinda took on a life of its own. So here’s this thing...about Kara’s sexual awakening.

Title: A Favor Among Friends

Chapter: 1 / 4

Rating: M / NC-17 / Explicit (for Chapters 3 &4)

Chapter 1

She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Long after she’d convinced herself he must have been delirious and thinking of someone else as his lips lingered over hers. Long after she decided to play it off to spare him the embarrassment of discovering she’d been the convenient avatar for whomever he’d been fantasizing about. Even days after returning from helping her new Earth-1 allies defeat the Dominators, she could still feel his lips on hers. Could still feel the rush of heat beneath her skin that had nothing to do with the rays from the yellow sun.

She tries not to think about it, just like she tried to stamp down the joy that rose up in her when, stepping out of the dimensional portal, she saw him standing there, his arms crossed, his jean-clad hips cocked to one side, a look of concern mixed with relief on his face. She tries not think about how attractive he is, or how his carefree grin makes her heart skip a beat, and how it sets to racing when he laughs, like a thoroughbred after the gate releases.

She tries not to think about any of it – until it’s all she can think about. Even Alex notices, teasing Kara with her eyes whenever the three of them are in the same room together. And then it becomes a freak show. He smiles and she flusters…even more than usual. His hand (unintentionally?) brushes against her arm and she’s certain he can hear her breath catch and her heart lock up for a moment before her blood is racing through her veins again.

Of course, it’s not long before the dreams begin. His mouth moving against hers, his hands finding their way to her skin; groping, grasping, sometimes with a light touch and sometimes something more commanding. His voice rasping out her name like it’s everything, and her own sighs of pleasure so loud in her ears. Each time, she awakens with a thin sheen of sweat on her face and between her breasts, her brain still insisting that his hot open mouth sliding down her neck is so very real. She almost cries because it isn’t.

But it never goes farther than hot breath on hotter skin or roaming hands finding the hollow of her lower back. No matter how she falls asleep hoping that her mind will conjure new, deeper paths of pleasure, she awakens each time unfulfilled and disappointed, with only her fingers to help her find her way.

And she knows why, can admit that much to herself at least. Even in her dreams her mind can’t go further than she’s actually been in the waking world. Her mind can only barely conceive of what it feels like to have a man’s hips cradled between her thighs, or feel the bare sweat-slicked skin of his belly moving against hers. She has only her imagination for that – an imagination which refuses to put any skin in the game when it comes to her dreams.

Kara Danvers is a virgin, which if the average person were to ponder upon, should come as a surprise to no one. Even if she weren’t an alien, she’d still be completely awkward girl around cute boys, not mention self-conscious about…everything. Not to mention the secrets! There’s all the secrets she’s had to keep since arriving on Earth; about herself and about her family. Secrets which have only become more involved as she’s gotten older, moved out on her own and tried to make her way in the world. Of course, it doesn’t help that not knowing when to stop talking is a problem she struggles with every day – especially around boys who might show a little interest. And it can’t be overstated that it’s no easy feat maintaining a dual identity, which limits the options when it comes to meeting someone and having an open and honest relationship. Kara still cringes when she thinks about Cat’s son and how exhausting that had been.

But the real problem about being a girl from Krypton on a planet orbiting a yellow sun, is the invulnerability. The imperviousness to outside forces trying to penetrate…yeah…Kara cringes at the thought, because she’s not just invulnerable to speeding bullets and randomly tossed street signs. She’s invulnerable to all of it.

All of it.

It’s why she chickened out with James. She couldn’t, in good conscious, ask him to enter into a relationship with the knowledge that they could only top out at heavy petting and oral sex. And she didn’t feel comfortable enough telling him the truth – didn’t want to see the look in his eyes – so she fed him some line about needing to figure out who she is before she can be in a relationship. James deserved better, she told herself; a relationship with her might have been a fun novelty for a while, but would have ultimately been unfulfilling for both of them. It was this shortcoming of her own unintentional and unwanted making, which had been in the forefront of her mind when she’d broken things off with James before they’d hardly had a chance to begin.

To be fair, she has considered several work-arounds, including employing the strategic use of Kryptonite to serve her purpose. But there are two problems with that. One: Kryptonite has a tendency to alter her body on a molecular level and there is no predicting what that could do to her under a specific set of (erotic) circumstances. And two: luckily, in most instances, physical damage done while exposed to the green element heal completely once exposed to the sun’s radiation. So…using Kryptonite to facilitate the loss of her virginity might only be a short term solution. Also, exposure to Kryptonite is excruciatingly painful for her, so realistically she would be unable to enjoy any amorous activities performed while in its presence. Her (Earth) mother, always pragmatic about such things, would definitely tell her that self-imposed misery during the process would defeat the whole purpose.

Which is why, this time, when the abrupt ending to her recurring dream has her eyes snapping open, she also rockets straight out of bed, hovering over the mattress as though her entire body has become a giant light-bulb of inspiration.

Mon-El!

Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Mon-El had literally dropped into their lives – a Daxam boy in his stolen Kryptonian pod, escaping a dying planet and getting knocked off course for who knows how many years. Like an extremely attractive but undisciplined angel from the heavens sent to help her take care of her little problem. Her cousin Clark, even more hopeful and optimistic than her, would tell her that everything happens for a reason.

Mon-El can do what no man on Earth (that she isn’t related to by blood) can do for her – end her years-long torment rid her of this no-longer needed or wanted virginity. All she has to do is work up the nerve to ask him and then convince him to say yes. Kara, still hovering over her bed, snickers and blushes. Who is she kidding? Mon-El is a Daxamite; he’d probably be out of his clothes before she could say, ‘let’s get it on.’

Not that she would ever say that. Ever.

She’s half-tempted to speed dress and fly to the DEO right now, lest she lose her nerve, before noticing that it’s just 4 am. That will never do. Mon-El doesn’t handle being jarred from sleep very well, even in the best of circumstances, and Kara needs him to be fully awake and able to properly process her request when she approaches him with her quandary. Kara shivers. She will have to find a way to tell him everything…everything…and hope that he can take her seriously and above all, be discreet about it.

She finds herself in the strange and tenuous position of hanging a lot of faith on a guy that just a few short weeks ago was beating people up for money. Except that since then he’s begun to step up as if, despite his Daxam upbringing, he’s decided he wants to be a part of something bigger than himself. It didn’t exactly make him a hero, but for now it is enough. Given enough time and guidance, Mon-El could really turn into a story of inspiration.

But he’s still who he is; a Daxamite nobleman who had a human girl practically out of her panties five minutes after being released from full-time surveillance. Kara wonders if Mon-El has been tested for sexually transmitted diseases, before shaking her head at the prospect. He had been tested for everything while still in his stasis coma (once they figured out how to inject the needle), and it was unlikely that he could pick anything up from human physiology. If human viruses can’t affect Kryptonians then they’re unlikely to affect Daxamites.

Kara spends the next few hours formulating a battle plan…and rules. If they were going to do this they were going to have to lay down some ground rules. She narrowly resists the urge to write them down on a pad of paper.

Despite her nervous anxiety screaming at her to go see him at 7 am, Kara waits until her lunch break from work before speeding over to the DEO. She sneaks past J’onn and Winn hovering near a bank of computer terminals and barely misses barreling into Alex.

“Hey, Kara!” Alex says, her eyes widening with surprise. Her face shifts quickly to one of confusion. “Did J’onn call you in? Is there something going on?”

“No,” Kara answers, her lips pursing together. “I just…promised Mon-El I’d take him to try Cuban food. I’m here to pick him up.”

“Well, good,” she replies. “I think he’s going stir-crazy. Last I saw him, he was wearing out another treadmill in the gym.”

“Thanks, Alex. I’ll have him back in an hour. Maybe less,” she muttered. Kara could feel her skin flushing with heat again.

“Shouldn’t be problem. Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Kara waves her off, downplaying the state of turmoil going on inside of her right now. “Fine. It’s nothing. See you later?”

“You bet.”

Kara could smell the tell-tale odor of burning rubber before she stepped into the gym. “You’re supposed to stop when that smell happens!” she warns him, raising her voice over the booming music coming from a stereo system in the corner of the room. “Give the machine a chance to rest.”

Hearing her voice, his head snaps up catching her eyes in the gym mirror. He’s unable to stop the grin that spreads across his face when she places her hands solidly on her hips. With a click of a remote control the room is plunged into silence. “They should build one that needs rest less than I do.”

“My friend Barry has one,” she informs him, good-naturedly. Mon-El is wearing running shorts and a skin-tight shirt made by UnderArmour. His muscle ripple beneath the material with every shift and move of his body. Her mouth goes suddenly dry and she finds herself in need of a drink.

Mention of her ‘friend’ Barry from Earth-1 has him feeling like he’s swallowed an icicle, tearing his smile from his face. It reminds him that she’d been gone for nearly a week, while he waited and worried that she might never return. Fighting the Dominators, he’d been told, after she was already gone without a goodbye. He paced and shook a finger angrily at J’onn. He should have gone with her! Daxam had twice repelled an invasion from the Dominators. Perhaps he could have been of some use, he’d explained. But the truth was, he was just afraid she’s like it better over there and decide never to return.

When the grin that lit a fire in her belly only a moment before, slides from his face at the mention of her friend Kara ducks her head to hide her disappointment.

“The speedster, right?” Mon-El nods avoiding her eyes. He dabs what little amount of exertion had gathered on his skin from his forehead with a towel.

“Right.” Kara tucks her hands behind her back nervously. “Maybe next time I talk to him I can ask him for the blueprints.”

“Maybe,” he replies with a shrug. “Hey is there something going on? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He doesn’t want to talk about her special friend Barry anymore. The thought of him makes Mon-El want to tear the building down brick by brick.

She takes a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her stomach, reminding herself that this wouldn’t even be the most difficult question she asked today. “I was wondering if you would be interested in getting Cuban food,” she said in a rush. “With me…for lunch?” His grin is back and she has to lock her knees to keep them from turning to mush

Lunch? Outside of the DEO? And alone with her? Once again, he’s unable to suppress his pleasure at her request. As Winn would say, ‘he has no chill’. “I’ve never had Cuban food,” he points out. “I do like their music though. It’s fun. Reminds me of home.”

“If it would bother you we can go somewhere else—“ She doesn’t want to make him said. That would not be conducive to getting what she needs from him.

“It’s fine,” he cuts in. “Give me a minute to shower and change?” he asks.

Kara nods and he zips out of the room, returning literally a minute later, dressed in chinos and long-sleeved burgundy Henley that fits him like a second skin. His hair is still wet from the shower, but combed neatly into place. She’s struck with the desire to tuck her face into his neck and smell his skin. “Ready?” he inquires.

She has to shake off both the desire to smell him, and the eclipse of moths that seems to have settled into the deepest parts of her belly. “Yeah,” she answers, her voice little more than a croak. “Let’s go.”

It’s a short walk to Flor de Cuba and Kara spends much of it debating in her head whether she should ask him before or after the meal. If she waits until after, then lunch is likely to last longer than she strictly has time for. As they’re seated at a table near the back of the restaurant, Mon-El effectively decides the course of the conversation when his voice intrudes on her thoughts.

“You seem to be thinking about something pretty hard over there. It’s giving you wrinkles,” he chuckles.

She covers her forehead with one hand, smoothing out the wrinkles between her eyebrows. “Is not,” she whines, though she knows it’s true.

He sighs, his Adam’s apple moving beneath the skin of his neck with a gulp and he licks his lips before speaking. “Something tells me this isn’t just a friendly lunch. Did I do something wrong again, Kara?” This time it’s his brow’s turn to furrow. It seems as if he’s if forever disappointing her no matter how hard he tries. And now that…that he’s found that he’s falling for her, it makes her irritation with him that much more difficult to bear.

Something about the sad look on his face makes her want to reach across the table for his hand to comfort him. She doesn’t. Instead she twists a napkin between her fingers in her lap, out of his line of vision but quickly tries to set him at ease. “No, it’s nothing like that,” she reassures. “I did want to talk to you about something, but I wanted us to be away from prying ears and security cameras.” She clamps her mouth shut when the waitress steps up to place two glasses of water on the table and drops a menu in front of each of them.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he presses finally, after the silence between them lingers just a moment too long. He attempts to appear slightly disinterested by perusing his menu.

“What are you hungry for?” she asks, an obvious redirection. ‘Don’t chicken out,’ she tells herself.

“You pick. Whatever’s good here,” he tells her before setting aside his menu. He can’t stand the suspense and doesn’t want to wait another minute to find out what he’s done to create that frightened look on her face. “What did want to talk to me about? You should just tell me before you burn a hole in the menu with your eyes.”

He is right. She stares at her menu as if it had personally tried to attack her and she is planning a way to take it down. Still, Kara grips the menu more tightly in her hands and wonders if it would be too immature to hide behind it. She recalls what her high school Health teacher used to say in class, ‘If you can’t talk about it, then you shouldn’t be doing it.’

Kara straightens her spines and squares her shoulders, leaning her back hard against the booth. Mon-El’s eyes widen in response and he seems to steel himself for whatever might come next. “I need your help with something,” she begins.

“Great,” he breathes a deep sigh of relief. Asking for his help is a good sign, he thinks. Perhaps it means that he’s earning more of her trust. “I’m all about the helping these days. What is it? Do you need back-up finding your Earth father? I heard you and Alex talking about it the other day. And I can’t help but feel like I owe him.” Jeremiah Danvers, long held captive by Cadmus had saved his life by fishing a lead bullet out of Mon-El’s leg when Cadmus had taken him hostage.

“No,” Kara shakes her head, though she thinks he’s sweet to offer. “It’s not that. It’s more personal.”

Mon-El’s eyes squint and he tilts his head to the left. “What’s more personal than saving your father?” He wonders is this had anything to do with the kiss he denies remembering.

Grasping her water glass, she drains the glass in one go before setting back on the table.

“Seriously, Kara…are you okay?” She’s the nervous sort, in a flustered way that he finds completely charming and adorable, but what he sees on her face and in her body language tells him that this is more than garden variety nerves.

“I need you to have sex with me,” she blurts out, her eyes refusing to meet his. Damn it! She hadn’t meant to phrase it that way, but part of her just wanted it over with. A beat of silence fills the space between them and Kara can hear a mouse chomping through a cardboard box in the back alley.

This time it is Mon-El’s turn to drain his glass of water. “Excuse me?” he croaks. “What was that?” Super hearing or not, he must have misheard her, of misunderstood what she was saying. Surely, she wasn’t suggesting they have sex – not after she’d been so relieved to find out he didn’t remember kissing her.

“I need to lose my virginity, and it has to be you.” Kara clears her throat, hopping that might distract from the blush she can feel spreading across her face.

Well that wasn’t…he hadn’t been expecting to hear that. A burst of joy mixed with relief explodes inside of him upon hearing that she’s a virgin. Not that it would matter, but still…knowing that she’s untouched somehow lift a weight off his shoulders. So…Barry wasn’t a thing. Mon-El’s face splits with a grin and his mouth drops open.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she warns, pointing a finger at him and squinting her eyes as though she’s prepared to let loose some highly focused heat vision.

He makes a clearly concerted effort to ease his face into a more neutral expression. Clearing his throat, he bites down on his lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut, telling himself to get control. He’s not completely sure what she’s asking of him, so he decides to plot his next moves before getting the answers he needs.

Kara isn’t sure but she suspects he’s having a conversation with himself in the privacy of his own head. Mon-El gasps for air, as though he had forgotten momentarily to breathe, although Kara knows he would have to go much longer than a minute without air to necessitate the taking of a breath that desperate.

“Just for clarification…you wish to undergo the Rite of—“

“No rites,” she cuts in. “No ceremonies. Just a simple business transaction.”

“Kara….” He does that adorable thing where he tilts his head again, trying to wrap his mind around the constant contradictions of the cultures of planet Earth. “It’s my understanding that…I mean from what Winn tells me…sex as a business…there are laws against that here. Stupid laws, by the way, but laws I’ve promised to follow nonetheless.”

“Oh!” she quickly realizes her mistake. “No, no, not like that. There will be no money changing hands…or exchange of goods…in any way.”

“Then how is it a business transaction?” he asks, more confused than ever.

Back to the drawing board, she sighs. “Okay. What if we called it…a favor between friends…?”

“Friends,” his voice drops, his brow furrowing again. That doesn’t bode as well as he’d hoped based on how their conversation began. Mon-El didn’t want to be ‘friends’ with Kara. He wanted much, much more. But he also knew he wasn’t good enough for her, wasn’t what she wanted, not really. “But there are others who’ve known you far longer. Men that you clearly prefer…to me.”

Kara opens her mouth to speak, but closes it. She wonders what she might have done since his arrival to give him that impression. She’s been playing her cards super close to the chest these last few months. And besides that, he’s completely wrong…if her dreams have anything to say about it.

“Such as this Barry person,” he suggests, tentatively, as though testing a fence. “Or…James?”

Shaking her head resolutely, she insists, “It has to be you, Mon-El.” She doesn’t understand why he is so hesitant. Is she really that unattractive to him? She knows that she’s quite attractive by Earth standards, at least if some of her headlines are to be believed. Somehow though, when she imagined this scenario, she envisioned him halfway to undressed by this point. “You have super strength and you’re invulnerable. Don’t you understand?”

Mon-El tries not to imagine her arms around him, clutching at his naked back while he…does things to her. “I’m sure if you’re gentle, you wouldn’t break—“

“It’s not about me breaking them, Mon-El. It’s about them not being able to…break – do I really have to spell this out for you?” Kara can hear the pitch of voice rising to unflattering levels, and she drops her face into her hands to hide her abject humiliation. In spite of the growing lump in her throat, she refuses to get emotional over this.

“Oh!” he croons, finally realizing the nature of dilemma. “Because you’re invulnerable. So…everything’s invulnerable.” He imagines a human man trying to solve her problem, and cringes painfully at the only possible outcome of that scenario.

“Right,” she sighs with relief, the worst is over.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a tough break.” And then, like an idiot, he grins at his own pun.

The waitress returns and Kara orders the ropa vieja for them both, with an extra serving of black beans and caramelized plantains, because she’s feeling the need for something sweet. Mon-El picks at a piece of bread while rolling her request around in his head. They sit quietly, Kara tugging uncomfortably at an errant curl of hair at the back of her neck, until their food arrives some minutes later.

“So when would this event take place?” he wonders.

“You’ll do it then?” she perks up immediately, though she has to restrain the nest of writhing snakes his question has awakened in her belly.

Mon-El shrugs and then decides for a joke to lighten the mood. “What kind of Daxamite would I be if I left a beautiful woman like you untarnished? I would hardly be doing the Daxam reputation justice, now would I?” It’s clear from the shifting expression on Kara’s face that his attempt at humor has hit wide of the mark. Very wide.

Kara’s smile slides from her face and her hopes plummet to the soles of her feet. The nonchalance of his attitude disappears just as quickly as her smile and Kara can tell that Mon-El recognizes his misstep.

Quickly reaching across the table, all humor vanishing from his demeanor, he covers her hand with his. Mon-El’s voice lowers to a gentle, reassuring timbre. “I promise I’ll take care of you, Kara. I’ll make sure it’s done right, okay?

“Okay,” she nods, her eyes misting up, quite against her will.

Seeing her emotion and wishing to reassure her more fully he adds, “Don’t worry, I have all the training needed.”

“Training?” she wonders, her widening with shock. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s standard in the court of the Crown Prince, that all courtiers receive training and discipline in the pleasure arts. It begins for the males when their fifteen, seventeen for the girls, and it’s quite comprehensive.”

“Why would you need—you know what? I don’t want to know.” Kara shakes off the thought though she knows it’s likely to haunt her until her curiosity is satisfied.

“All you need to know, is that you’re going to be in good hands. But before I agree to this, you have to promise me one thing first.”

“What’s that?”

“This can’t just be a ‘transaction’ like you called it. You can’t just lay there with your eyes closed…pretending I’m someone else. Not if you want your first time to be something worth remembering, as it should be. You have to be a participant. You have to be open to me...trust me. Can you do that? Because if you can’t…”

The eyes that usually sparkle with mischief or impending irresponsibility, darken with intense sincerity. In that moment she sees in Mon-El as the man he she knows he can be and Kara feels her mouth go dry. Thankfully the waitress had refilled their water glasses after dropping off their meal. She realizes that part of her had wanted him to take it all seriously, despite the utter ridiculousness of her requests. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth before she nods in agreement with his request.

Mon-El smiles reassuringly. “Everything will be fine, Kara. I’ve seen enough of your Earth entertainment programs to know that sex between friends without current romantic entanglements can be a mutually beneficial agreement. Friends with benefits, I think they call it. I saw one movie where two friends agreed to mate when they were of a certain age if they hadn’t found their partners yet. I liked that one. A little sappy, but there were some funny moments.”

“I didn’t realize they were supplying you with a selection of rom-coms.” Kara is thrilled for an avenue of escape from their current discussion.

“Rom-coms?”

“Romantic comedies,” she explains. “Doesn’t seem quite your style.”

“The powers-that-be decided that I’m not allowed to watch anything that depicts explosions or alien invasions, or aggression of any kind.”

“So…no action movies allowed,” she surmises.

“Romantic comedies and sad stories written by a man named Nicholas Sparks are the only films on the approved watch list, I’m afraid. I hear good things about this Liam Neeson person though.” Mon-El chuckles and Kara remembers that she’s always liked his sense of humor, although begrudgingly at first.

“I’m sure that will all change in time. They’re just being cautious.”

“I know that I still have a lot to learn, Kara. They can’t just release me to the wild…I get it. I may speak the language, but sometimes that creates more questions than it answers. On the upside, thanks to these rom-coms I’m learning a lot about how to woo Earth women.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, though she can tell he’s just trying to elicit a laugh from her.

He goes on to detail all the ridiculous things he’s learning from watching rom-coms and before she knows it, she’s forgotten all about how nervous she was when they walked into the restaurant. He’s enamored with the taste of Cuban food, but makes a bit of a mess on his face eating the ropa vieja. Kara leans forward with her napkin and wipes away the smear of greasy beef gravy on his chin. Something she can’t interpret flashes in his eyes as he offers his thanks.

Before leaving the restaurant to walk him back to the DEO they decide that Friday night would be good night, so she leaves him at the front door of building her chest filling with a combination of excitement and terror.

TBC

#karamel #karamel fic

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drmavisandco · 7 years

Text

when your boss is a virgin.

— “i don’t understand why mallory won’t let me do this expedition — i’m the owner of the chronosphere, yet he doesn’t trust me with it?” mavis complained as ludwig handed him a glass of coke, the young apprentice was only twenty and while his older brother believed he deserved to get at least one pint, ludwig chose to take the initiative to making sure nothing bad happened to him.

gilbert gave out a disappointed cry as he watched ludwig hand him the coke, “c’mon, west!” he gestured towards alfred, who was happily enjoying his miller lite. “you let al drink!”

“hey, i’m over 200 years old, i deserve this.” alfred protested, taking a proud sip from his beer.

mavis shook his head, thanking ludwig for the glass of coke, “it’s fine, guys, i never really liked beer that much anyway.” that comment immediately caught gilbert’s attention. “mein gott, don’t tell me you’re a wine guy!”

“what’s wrong with being a wine guy, asshole?” romano asked, peering over antonio so he could eye gilbert.

“nothing — and i don’t understand why you’re trying to defend wine guys if you’re clearly drinking beer.” gilbert smirked as he gestured towards the glass of beer that romano already drank half of. romano’s eyes widened in aggressive realization as he glanced towards the glass, he turned back towards gilbert. “i’ll fight you.” he threatened.

gilbert laughed, “go ahead.”

everyone laughed as romano got up from his stool and charged towards gilbert, only to fall into his trap. “let me go, you bastard.” he stated, trying to pull gilbert away from him. the prussian rubbed his cheek against his, cooing, “but you’re so cute.”

“oh, let me get a piece.” francis said, noticing the two as he returned from the bathroom. almost immediately romano grabbed gilbert’s wrists and forced them away from his hips and pulled him in between him and francis. “he’s all yours.” romano said before grabbing a seat next to mavis.

“anyway, about you were saying earlier, mavis: mallory probably just want’s to protect you, you want to explore war but you’re still young and pure, como un pequeño tomate.” antonio said, puffing out his cheeks to resemble romano as a child. the italian groaned in annoyance, “i might’ve been small but i could’ve kicked your ass.” at that statement, francis spat out some beer and started laughing.

“are you serious?” romano complained, but soon enough everyone had joined in.

after a moment of calming themselves, gilbert lifted his glass in realization, almost spilling it on antonio behind him. “i know how you can get mallory to see you as a man — “

“i am a man.” mavis stated.

“hear me out — “ he eyed him, “you sure? i mean, because, you got those really long lashes and i could’ve sworn you were a lady when i first — “

mavis glared at him, “anyway, continue.”

“you’re a virgin.” gilbert announced.

“how did this conversation — “ ludwig began, but gilbert interrupted him. “that’s probably the only department in which you and me have something in common.”

“you’re just embarrassing yourself, bruder.” ludwig muttered toward the ceiling..

“just lose it and then you can go on your expedition.” gilbert said, “then you’ll be a man.”

ludwig raised an eyebrow, “that’s not how you define a man, and if it was you’d be insulting yourself.”

“you’re right, i don’t need to bang somebody to be manly, i have confidence.” he gestured towards mavis, “but mavis doesn’t have my amount of confidence, he’s not awesome.”

“wow, thanks.” mavis said, deflated.

“so what, he has to fuck a stranger?” alfred asked.

“i didn’t say i agreed to this.” mavis pointed out, but they ignored him.

“that seems pretty depressing, a one-night stand? it should be with someone he knows, someone who doesn’t mind.” romano said before taking a drink from mavis’ glass. gilbert raised an eyebrow, “what’s this? looks like romano wants to offer himself up to you, mavis!”

romano spat out his drink, (”someone’s gonna slip on that, guys, enough.” ludwig said) “th-that’s not what i was suggesting, that’s no . . . “ he glanced towards mavis who was giving a sort of look that someone would swoon over, without even realizing it, which was worse. romano chugged down his coke and excused himself, but not before stating clearly that he enjoys women. unfortunately, he said that right into a women’s ear who spun around and slapped him.

the guys laughed, letting him go. “she doesn’t have to be a stranger, all you gotta do is ask for her name and charm her up a bit.” gilbert said. mavis shook his head, “it’s not that easy, i don’t even know what i would say to a girl . .”

“oh, that’s so depressing. mon cherie,” francis said, getting up from his stool and taking romano’s seat. his hands curled around mavis’ waist as he inched closer, making the young man blush. “i’ll just tell you that . . . les cochons rendent mon coq, and i’ll do more with you.” his lips inched towards his neck, teasing him until mavis jumped down from his stool. francis caught himself with the bar and smirked as mavis spoke, “i’ll go find someone, wish me luck.”

“you’re welcome,” francis said once mavis left, raising his hands with pride. “he really needs to learn some french, though.” he sighed.

“yeah,” gilbert laughed, “that was gross!” he exclaimed, taking finishing his beer.

“wait, what’d you say?” alfred asked, confused. francis laughed and patted his shoulder.

“losing his virginity isn’t going to soften what he’ll see when he gets his way.” ludwig warned them, gilbert nodded solemnly. “well, think of it as a consolation ‘cause i don’t doubt he’ll be wishing he was fucking some girl instead of getting shot in the thigh.”

ludwig groaned, “that was an accident, i told you.”

“that doesn’t fix the fact that you shot me in the thigh.”

he couldn’t fathom how he managed to get into this situation, he had encountered a girl sitting alone in the corner: her curls and modest attire seemed to scream innocent and kind to him, so he offered to sit next to her. she was from ohio, that he could remember. but he couldn’t, for his life, remember her name. despite that, he was being led to her car out in the parking lot. her hips swayed as she walked, he gazed down at her thick thighs and imagined them choking him. he gulped, wondering where the guys were. he looked over his shoulder and almost jumped: they had found a spot by the window and were watching him. he stopped in his tracks, staring at them. “what the fuck,” he asked.

“is everything okay?” the woman asked, mavis looked back at her freckled and blue-eyed face. he melted, “yeah — “ his voice cracked, “ — yeah, uh, let’s go.” he said, taking lead. she giggled behind him and handed him the keys as they approached her Jeep.

“kind of crappy, isn’t it?” she said as he unlocked it, he opened the passenger door and climbed in as she sat on the driver’s side. it smelled like pine, he glanced up at the car freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror. “no, it’s pretty nice for someone who doesn’t have a car.” he suddenly blushed, realizing he was sounding lame. but she laughed, so kindly, “why not?”

“i . . i just get nervous on the road.” he said, scratching the back of his head, she chuckled and nodded. “i can relate, it took me a long time to finally get used to the highway.” mavis smiled, his eyes wandered over to the dashboard radio where she had lodged a few cd’s. “music?”

she blushed, “just a bit, bands that nobody really listens to.” she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. he grinned and popped one in, his eyes brightened up as soon as he heard hellogoodbye’s “would it kill you” come on. “i love this song!” he exclaimed.

“really? me too!” she laughed, he went on to talk about his favourite bands, meanwhile, the guys watched from inside the bar.

“what are they doing? how long is this gonna take?” romano groaned, watching as mavis smiled and laughed with the girl, blushing whenever she leaned in closer. “are you planning on watching?” francis asked, romano was the only one still watching from where they sat inside the booth.

“yeah, chill dude, let him take his time.” alfred said, they had ordered some food and he was elbow deep in it. romano sat down beside him and stared silently and impatiently at the table.

“are you jealous?” gilbert asked as he took a bite of a fry.

romano looked up at him, glaring. “no, i just wanna head home.” he pouted.

“we could just go home together.” antonio said, gesturing between them with his own fry.

romano didn’t say anything.

“mavis . .” the woman began, cutting mavis off as he talked about the kind of music he was into during his years of middle school. “that’s really interesting but . . you don’t have to keep talking.” she said, her smile curling into a small smirk.

“what?” he asked, his eyes widening and she leaned in close. “kiss me.” she said, so sweetly. and he did.

her lips tasted like cherry from her chap stick, and they were plump and soft, making him smile. her hand grasped his shirt as she pulled him in closer while his hands cupped her cheeks. eventually she was pressed up against the driver’s side door, her legs wrapping around his waist as he covered her. he felt her hand press atop of his head, asking him to go lower. his lips trailed towards her neck, giving her space to talk.

“i’m really glad i met you, mavis . . . you’re handsome and sweet . . “ she pulled him away for a moment, her blue eyes glowing in the dashboard light as he eyed her. “could you . . . could you maybe, love me?”

“w-what?”

“i know,” she sat up straight a bit, fixing her hair for a moment before continuing. “i left ohio . . . because my fiancee cheated on me and i guess — i guess i was hoping to find something better here in the city — “

“i’m . . . so sorry, but, how old are you?” mavis asked.

“27, why?”

“oh, that’s . . a lot, i mean, i’m 20 but 7 is a big difference for me . . i don’t know . .” he saw the way her lips twitched into a small, amused smile. “shit . . . that’s cute . . “ he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her but her hand came in between them.

“this is a one-night stand, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes losing the spark and the adventure he liked. he stared at her, a bit surprised but sat back in his seat as she made herself comfortable. “you’re not planning on . . making this a thing.”

“my . . . friends thought that if . . . i lost my virginity, my boss would take me seriously.” he said, taking a moment to let that sink in, “yeah, that sounds dumb as fuck now that i said it out loud.”

“your friends are dumb as fuck.” she said, running her hand through her hair, “what are you gonna do now?”

he glanced at her, “ i mean, i wanted to keep going but i guess this is my queue to leave, right?” she laughed, nodding. he gave her a thin smile and began opening the door before catching a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. “melissa.”

“what?”

“that’s your name, i . . i just remembered it.” he said, awkwardly. she stared at him before giving him a sympathetic smile. he turned back towards the door and said, “if my life wasn’t . . . as messed up as it is right now, and if i wasn’t confused all the time . . .” he got out and gazed at her from outside, “i’d take you home and bang you all night — “ he shook his head, “i’m not making it better.”

she rolled her eyes, grinning, “come’ere, hun.” she said as she leaned over passenger seat. mavis felt her soft lips against hers and felt content, he was grinning when she pulled away. “i like being a virgin.” he said.

“and i think you’re alright if you intend to keep it.” she said, “give it to someone special, promise?”

mavis beamed, “promise.”

“that took a long time, i feel like passing out.” romano said once mavis appeared at their table, “did you guys even fuck?” he asked with his head between his arms as he rested his head on the table. ludwig had taken a break, so everyone was curious to find out if he lost it. mavis shook his head and smiled, “no, all we did was talk — and kiss a bit — but that was enough for me.” ludwig and antonio gave him a proud smile as gilbert and francis shook their heads in disappointment. mavis sat down in the booth, scooting himself next to romano. the italian was hunched over the table, looking pouty. the young apprentice rested his head on his back, wrapping an arm around his body and letting his hand rest on his head. “get off.” romano mumbled.

“no~ i need you to drive me home, i’m tired.” mavis said, his voice getting muffled by the fabric of romano;s shirt. the guys talked as romano and mavis remained silent, he glanced to antonio who mouthed: ‘i’ll go home with gil, you go.’

and so he shrugged mavis off his back and told him to get up, they said goodbye and thanked the beilschimdts for the free drinks before heading out into the parking lot.

“from what i saw, she looked pretty hot.” romano said once the cool air had freshened their burning cheeks.

“she was . . and so nice too, but she caught on so . .” mavis said, smiling softly.

“would . . would you have fucked her? if you could’ve?” romano asked, hesitating for a moment. mavis stopped in his tracks, the autumn air making his breaths visible. his freckles were hardly visible in the dim parking lot lamps.

“i don’t know, i mean, she was attractive but . . . i don’t know.” he said, “she told me to save it for someone special, so i’ll just do that.”

romano nodded, looking around for his car as mavis kept walking, “this way,” he advised, letting mavis come closer towards him before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. a small smile curled on mavis’ lips.

#chapter #hetalia #drmavisandco #oc #when your boss is a virgin #41617 #long

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