BONUS ROUND 4 - FOOD

[scallioncreamcheesebagel]

In this round, we want to see prompts inspired by food!

Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt. 

You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want!

for your prompt post title, please use the following format:

PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]

for your fill post title, please use the following format:

FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]

to participate, reply to this post!

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PROMPT: TEAM RWBY

[alphajaye071]

You always cook enough for two. It's a habit you can't seem to get rid of, even though the person you're also cooking for is no longer there.

FILL: Team RWBY

[hopelessgemini]

fandom: RWBY

ship: winter/cinder

-

Three years don’t really heal wounds, it turns out. Winter learns to cook food that isn’t ready-made, goes to therapy, moves twice, and still her entire world seems to revolve around Cinder Fall.

She realises this a little too late, one night while she’s trying not to cry into her instant ramen over something or other — something her boss said before he went to fucking jail, something her father said, nonsense she should have gotten over by now — and staring at the door. She doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for, but she knows it involves Cinder. The absence of her, the space she left behind.

It starts to feel stupid the moment she stops feeling sorry for herself. Winter curls in on herself on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest, and stares at the coffee table instead. She made two drinks, like she was expecting Cinder to walk home any moment, to come through the front door of the apartment she’s never been in and notice Winter crying about the boss she doesn’t know and comfort her.

And that’s it, isn’t it? She wants to be comforted. She wants Cinder to stay in her life. It’s been three years and she still needs her. It’s stupid and it’s codependent and she really thought she was over that. Cinder was always the one who needed her, who was desperately, achingly alone.

And yet.

God, it wasn’t even that bad a breakup. It’s been three years, and here she is.

-

“I mean, at least it’s handy when you have people over,” Weiss says charitably.

“That’s not helpful,” Winter mutters. “I just — do you know how she’s doing? Have you seen her recently?”

Weiss gives her a sharp, assessing look. Apparently determining that it’s not a symptom of a desire to get back with her, she says, “She’s fine. She got a new job, she’s living by herself now.”

“Right,” Winter says. She has to put her head in her hands to keep herself from looking at Weiss’s expression, from letting her see the way her face does — something. She doesn’t know if it’s grief or happiness. Can you even grieve a relationship?

“I can…” Weiss starts, then pauses. She doesn’t have a solution. That’s fine.

“I just need to be around more people, I think.”

“Yeah. Good plan.”