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highdramas · 3 years

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your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #your song #my writing #not me posting this at 11pm sorry yall

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gucciwins · 3 years

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Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back.

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love.

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family.

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you.

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up. Reminded you not to stay out too long.

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day.

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another.

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them.

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did.

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in.

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers.

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch.

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you.

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense.

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses.

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch.

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No."

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry.

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?"

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room.

"Harry," You whine.

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you.

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over."

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling.

_____

In your home, something was always baking.

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you.

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on.

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week.

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling.

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call.

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks.

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone.

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later."

"I've got you," Gemma assures you.

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone.

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives.

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies.

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many.

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge."

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him.

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs.

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains.

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast.

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after.

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book.

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart.

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began.

Her message read:

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in!

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told.

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking.

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."

Your jaw drops.

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend.

He went on record.

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic.

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day.

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door.

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you."

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry.

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open.

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face.

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies."

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it."

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise."

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you.

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away,

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell."

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast.

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word.

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well.

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters.

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor.

"You're getting off track."

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement.

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately.

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed."

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic.

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend."

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?"

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries.

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes.

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him.

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship."

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world."

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?"

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point.

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty."

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble.

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show."

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it."

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight.

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal."

"Great, I'm giving you a week."

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath.

"I win."

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror.

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him.

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

"Close your eyes." You call out.

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing.

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly.

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours.

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds.

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized.

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles.

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so.

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected.

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive.

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name.

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in.

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing.

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you.

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough.

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise.

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you."

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses.

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly.

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him.

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action.

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?"

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed.

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out.

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet.

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship.

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like.

i love you!

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #christmas #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Hi, I was wondering you could write something about the Bridgerton spouses and them all spending the day together and the Bridgerton siblings wondering where they have gone.

Hello! Hello Hello!

My god you have been waiting on this for just the longest time, and I am just so sorry! I have no excuse beyond: I am terribly disorganised and unfortunately sometimes I have to deal with my real life.

So anyway! On with the show! This isn’t exactly what you asked for and I’m combining it with another request, again, terrible! So sorry!

Anon asked: I love your little headcanon about the Bridgerton wives and their wine night. Do you have sth similar for the Bridgerton husbands too? The Bridgerton Wives Club is truly my legacy at this stage aaaaaaand I couldn’t be prouder of it.

@esoterrifica was also a little interested in this concept

And So, without further Ado, it is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you all The Bridgerton Wives Club and their sister Association (If You’ve somehow missed my post about the BWC here it is here

“And just where’s my shirt, Katie cat?” Michael Stirling had said nodding in the direction of the remainder of Frankie’s sister in laws wearing their infamous Bridgerton Wives Club shirts, gathered around the table that had been dragged into Violet Bridgerton’s back lawn. Kate raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

“I’m a Bridgerton wife now as well, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He said, a charming grin on his face, Kate laughed brightly. “I’m afraid, Michael, unless you want to get drunk and discuss breast feeding techniques with us you’re quite on your own.” Michael huffed a little indignantly at the exclusion. as Kate continued “Besides, Simon was the first of you, he was never invited to wine and Whine night and he’s never minded, Have you Simon?” She called out as she passed. Simon looked up a little surprised, Amelia sitting on his shoulders waving down at Auntie Katie as she shrieked with joy “To be fair, I didn’t know it was an option.” Simon said mildly. Michael scoffed

“See! I’ll make the shirts Kate! Just give me the stencil!” a wicked little smirk twisted Kate’s mouth for a second, her eyes shining in a way that Michael had noticed even made his terrifying brother-in-law Anthony stop in his tracks. “oh no, Michael. I’m afraid now I’m quite looking forward to what you come up with, you’r a creative spirit! Let it fly free!” She said as she bent down without even looking and scooped her daughter off the ground who had been sprinting past in attempt to reach the newly revealed chocolate pudding, clearly intent on dumping it on her brother’s head. Michael frowned

“That’s fine, I’ll just ask Penelope. She likes me.” he said, turning to Penelope who had just arrived to their tiny group. “You’ll give me the stencil so I can make a wives club shirt for myself right?” Penelope’s eyes widened, scooting a little nervously to Kate who was immensely enjoying her own joke “Remember who picked you, Eloise, and Edwina out of the drunk tank when you were 19 and never told your mother Penelope.” Kate sing-songed happily. Penelope paled a little and then, a smirk formed matching Kate’s “You’re a clever man Michael, you’ll figure something out.” She said, laughing as Michael tutted and then quickly “And don’t even try to fluster Sophie into telling you!” Penelope and Kate laughed brightly amongst themselves as Generalissimo and Pen AND the Sword joined Sweet but Psycho and The heiress

“What’s that look for?” Francesca said wrapping her arm around his waist, as an idea formed in his mind. “Your sister in law is an absolute menace.” Michael said, smiling as he kissed his wife’s cheek. “Here Here” he heard Anthony muter as he passed, on his way to take his son from... Gareth! “Frankie, I love you, you’re beautiful but I have to take care of something!” He said kissing his Bewildered wife on the cheek as he called out “GARETH!”

_________________

A week later Phillip Crane was looking at Michael as though he’d fully lost his mind, and honestly, maybe he had.

“You want me to wear this... in public?” Phillip said a little slowly, Michael nodded. “Yes, Gareth made them.” he replied, throwing attention to the youngest member of their group, already proudly wearing his creation, the sleeves rolled up artfully his tattooed arms in bright contrast to the white fabric. Phillip tutted. “I’m a little disappointed that you were so easily swayed, Gareth.” Phillip said resignedly holding up the shirt in front of him. Gareth grinned brightly

“I think it’s great! Excellent idea Mike!” He said, tying his hair back in his signature bun “And, Phil, you know Eloise is gonna love it.” Phillip’s head shot up at the sound of his wife’s name, a small smile appearing on his face, and Michael knew he’d won. Phillip sighed “Fine, Michael, if Simon will wear his, I’ll wear mine.” Simon Basset burst through the door, as if on queue, his shirt already on grinning broadly “Sorry I’m late boys, Daph needed a hand with Caroline. Love the shirts by the way, just spoke to Luce and she said she’s on route with the other girls, we should head!”

Phillip groaned as he pulled the shirt over his head. Michael let out a whoop of joy “Let’s go boys!”

_______________

Well Well Well, Ladies and Gentlemen it seems The Bridgerton Wives Club now have a Sister (or rather brother) Organisation. Generalissimo, The Heiress, Sweet but Psycho and The Pen and the Sword were Joined by four new members today on their monthly brunch meeting today, and they seemed to have named themselves everyone say a very flustered hello to The Bridgerton Dudes Club Members include Mr Football, Mr Handsome, Mr Flowers, and Mr Manbun Gentlemen of London: Lock up your wives and Daughters!

Anthony Bridgerton: Have you guys seen this? Kate has been cackling since she got home and I did wonder why.

Colin Bridgerton: Seen it? I was whooping for joy! You know Mum is gonna frame that picture and send it around for the Christmas card.

Eloise Crane: Oh Look at him! Apparently it was Michael’s Idea, Frankie remind me to thank Michael for getting Phil such a tight shirt.

Hyacinth St Clair: Jesus Christ, That man is an absolute idiot. At least this explains why I dropped in to his shop the other day to find Michael and Gareth whispering away like old women. I didn’t think Michael had any tattoos

Benedict Bridgerton: Mr Handsome? Bit much isn’t it? But also, if Michael has a tattoo Soph might let me get one.

Gregory Bridgerton: Gareth’s artwork looks better than Kate’s she’s gonna be Pissed. Lucy says Michael does have tattoos but she won’t say where ???? Frankie?????

Daphne Basset: I love Simon but... Mr Handsome is right 👀👀👀👀GET IT FRANKIE

Francesca Bridgerton-Stirling: ... I’m NOT discussing Michael’s tattoos with you heathens. But also... He is Going to Get it tonight.

Hyacinth St. Clair: YEAH HE IS!!!!

Anthony Bridgerton: Sadly I can confirm my wife is currently redoubling her efforts on the Wives Club Shirts, partially to spite Michael, partially to spite me. Please don’t tell her I actually like them (looking at you, Greg.) And Young Ladies! Go to bed!

#I’m gonna have to start making Bridgerton Wives clubs shirts tbh #if anyone wants to help me out with a logo hmu #bridgerton and sons au #the bridgerton wives club #the birdgerton dudes club #michael stirling #phillip crane #simon basset #kate sheffield #kate sharma #penelope featherington #lucy abernathy #sophie beckett #a squabble of bridgertons #molly's asks and answers #manbun gareth

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takenbyheartstrings · 3 years

Text

changing of the seasons | tom holland.

[ tom x fem!reader au || warnings. fluff, swearing, angst, implications of sex, the reader drinking || wc. 5.2k (this is a bit of a long one LMAO) ] a/n. it’s currently 4:52 in the morning, so my apologies if this is so sloppy, but I’m writing it and heading straight to bed, praying there’s no major grammatical errors. Now, ik that uni doesn’t have frats or whatever, but it’s an au so idrc about accuracy ANYWAY, goodnight to all <3

W I N T E R

YOUR BREATH HITCHED AGAINST THE COLD AIR OF THE NIGHT, this cold of a day in London was not unusual, not welcomed, nor un-welcomed. You sort of loved the cold days, even if it rained so much that it was almost impossible to leave the house. It brings a sense of home to you and your roommate.

The same roommate who tried to join one of those sororities. But then chickened out last minute ‘Those girls are so fucking intimidating... I dunno how anyone does it!’ You laugh as you remember the day she came back to the dorm in shambles, only slightly tipsy. She really was the party type - but you had obligated to stay back at the dorm and watch Netflix or something, she found you coddled watching and reading. It wasn’t an unusual state for you at all, and you partied sometimes, Katie had mocked you previously, for acting as if you’re ‘Not like other girls.’ But you had to disagree, she was being ridiculous.

But that’s not where the story starts, ironically; the story starts at one of those terrible parties. Katie had dressed you in a nice pair of high waisted jeans and a tank top. You felt like you were wearing a little too less, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. You were just a little shy, so you slipped a jacket on top. In your defence: ‘Kate! It’s freezing outside!’

You were at a party where everyone knew you as the smartest kid in possibly the grade - you weren’t bullied or anything, but you weren’t popular either. Everyone knew you, and you knew them. You weren’t friends with them, but you weren’t not friends with them - you were the middle ground; the mediocre.

But in the whole time you were at this party, you managed to see the one person you didn’t like at all, and who didn’t like you.

Tom Holland was a stuck-up brat who didn’t know any better than to slack off in class, drink until so drunk he could barely speak properly, make comments about people that were anything but nice, and to make things even better, cheated on his girlfriend, and still, no matter how much he annoyed you, how much he despised you, how much the two of you tried to avoid each other... the two of you always managed to get in each other’s way.

You didn’t even knew how Tom Holland managed to slither his way into your life. But he did, and although the two of you disliked each other (although, it’s not a strong enough word), he always needed. your. help.

You saw it coming when he walked up to you at that stupid party, “What do you want, Thomas?” You questioned, your arms crossed over your jacket like they had been the whole night, a red solo cup sat in your hand.

“I need your help, passing another class.” He speaks and you can’t help but roll your eyes, you had a tutoring service, you knew what you were getting yourself into - but you didn’t think this one particular person would keep coming back for every test. There had to be something he was good at! How would he have gotten into uni if he weren’t?

You chuckled, “Is there seriously nothing you can do on your own?” You question him airing your thoughts.

You’re sat in a corner, and Tom is a charmer, so naturally, his hand leans onto the wall, keeping you in your place, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that suggests he’ll be sleeping in it tonight after he’s blacked out on his own bed, “Look, princess,” He almost spits, “Help me out, it’s the least you can do for me, after all, you’re the one making the money.”

and although, ALTHOUGH, you hate Thomas Stanley Holland with almost every single bone in your body...

you can’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach when he calls you princess.

You look him in the eye, almost slightly flustered, biting your lip, “Fine, I’ll teach you, just come by my dorm tomorrow at four and we can get started.”

“I have practi-” You cut Tom’s words off with the knife of your tongue.

“I don’t care what you have, if you won’t pass, there won’t be any practice at all. So I’d keep your mouth shut.” Tom takes note of your poisonous tone, nodding before he leaves you be in the exact same spot he found you in.

That night you went home with Katie, she was sloshed and drunk and could throw up all over you at any moment, but you were so tired. You wanted to hold her hair back, you so truely did, but you tied it up and let her be, despite her saying it was okay and to get some rest - you really did feel bad, and she should’ve taken her own advice.

The next day you didn’t have any classes, so you were determined to cram as much alone time in before Kate or Tom came to the dorm room. So you pretty much just sat on your ass all day, typing away at your computer and laughing at stupid YouTube videos in a pair of bike shorts and a baggy white t-shirt. You could see the black bralette you were wearing underneath it, but you weren’t expecting anyone so you depending on your memory to know when to change your clothes. But you didn’t think fast enough as there was a knock on your door. You walked over, expecting it to be Kate coming back from class or from getting Coffee with her girlfriend, but there’s almost so much luck for the world, and apparently, you didn’t get any at all.

“Thomas!” You shriek as you open the door wide, the dorm room was not far from a mess, but messy enough to say, “Sorry about the mess,” You invite him into the dorm room, hastily putting the blankets and pillows back into their places.

Tom walks into the familiar room, one he had been in many times and not for harmless fun. But to get his grades up. But there was a lot of things that you didn’t know about Tom Holland, a frat boy who’s life depends on the money he just so happens to have passed down to him. But Tom wasn’t the disgusting piece of crap you thought him out to be at all. The cheating? It was a rumour made by his piece of shit girlfriend, who just needed an excuse to dump him to get with her side-piece. But he was paraded for it by his friends, so he went a long with it - knowing that what was happening was so disgustingly gross and out of line. Tom to you was a bad guy, but in reality. He would be one of the nicest people you could ever know. Partially because of you.

To make it even clearer, Tom WAS that kind of guy, he’d been sleeping with everyone in sight before he got his girlfriend, to try and prove to you that he could hold a relationship, to prove to you that he was a good guy. He stopped the comments, convinced his friends to stop the comments as well. He was trying to be better because of you.

Tom tried not to look at how good you looked in your shorts and t-shirt, but his eyes couldn’t help following every inch of your body. He was trying his best, he really was. But he had to force his eyes away.

Finally after tiding up the place, slightly, you stood up properly and spoke, “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, we should.” Tom’s voice rang as you broke him out of whatever trance he was in before. He knew full well that he didn’t like you, but he didn’t know if that was him trying to convince himself, or if it was actually true - anymore at least.

You were sat down with Tom at the desk you had brought from IKEA not too long ago, you had a monitor and PC that sat in front of the two of you as you both worked on Tom’s History assignment. There was a sudden stop between the work-flow when you saw that Tom hadn’t been paying attention.

You looked at him as he looked at you, “Tom, pay fucking attention or there’s no way you’re going to pass and as much as I dislike you, I want you to do good.”

Guess being a nice person kills, huh? You can’t truely hate Tom, because there’s some mindset of yours unable to stop caring about Tom and how he does in school, because you feel bad for him.

Tom rolls his eyes, “Fine... what were you saying?” He tries to pay attention to you but you look way too good to be able to focus, so his eyes just stay on you and your voice drowns out.

You look at Tom who’s still looking at you rather than doing the work, “Tom,” Your voice shakes him out, as you shake him, your hand on his shoulder.

You yourself, didn’t realise how close the two of you were, but as your breath was on Tom’s face, and Tom’s breath was on yours. His hand moved up your thigh - and you let it. He moved closer and closer, his lips finally meeting yours as you kissed him back, the two of you stood up as you’re still kissing the air getting hotter and hotter.

Tom lifts your shirt over your head before pulling away for a minute, “Are you sure you wants this?” He questions you.

“Tom, if you keep talking, I’m going to change my mind.” You say before pressing your lips to his once more.

He unclips your bralette, his warm lips on yours, the winter’s air was nothing compared to what was happening in dorm 4B at this moment, his kisses moving down your neck to your chest, and your soft moans echo in your bedroom, nothing was stopping the two of you.

⏤

YOU AND TOM lay there, completely breathless.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You asked yourself in shambles before standing up and getting yourself dressed.

“You need to leave,” You tell Tom as he sits up.

He chuckles, “Why?” He smiles coyly.

You roll your eyes at Tom, slipping your white shirt back over your head. You sigh heavily as you look back at him once more, “Tom, I can’t even fathom what happened here, right now.”

“We had sex, Y/N, there’s not much to unpack here.” He speaks softly, “Look, I get that you hate me or whatever,” He stands as he puts his sweatpants and jersey back on, “But I’ve never hated you.”

He grabs his shoes and slides them back on, before grabbing his backpack and leaving you to your own thoughts. That was the first time you’d ever heard him say something like that. That he never hated you. You had just assumed he did because of the way he acted towards you. You fell back onto your bed.

You started to question your hatred for Tom, but you didn’t know how long it would take before your feelings would soon unpack, it was harder to do than expected. You thought it was black and white. But it’s a lot harder, way harder than you initially thought.

You heard the door open as Katie slammed the door behind her shut, checking in on you as her head popped into your room.

“Katie, I had sex with Tom Holland.” You spoke, almost afraid of the words that came out of your mouth.

S P R I N G

THE FLOWERS HAD STARTED TO BLOSSOM, you hadn’t talked to Tom since what happened in your room and you made every effort to ignore him or avoid him no matter how hard he tried.

What happened with him happened in January, it was now April. It had been four months, four months of just thinking. Debating with yourself and debating with your feelings. Tom didn’t make it easier to think about him either. He was trying to grab your attention so madly that it drove the two of you insane for each other.

Your phone didn’t stop pinging with text messages and emails and phone calls from the boy. It drove you mad.

You store at your phone for longer than a minute while drinks were happening for a little girls night that Katie had planned, “Stop staring at your phone, Y/N,” Katie’s girlfriend spoke.

“Sorry,” You apologised softly, as Ciera laughed.

“Don’t apologise,” She sighed, “What’s happening for you right now is complicated, you had hate sex and you’re scared of commitment to the person you had hate sex with when he’s more than ready to commit to something you’re not.”

You whacked Ciera over their arm, “OW!” She shrieks.

“Sorry Ciera, but I’m not afraid of commitment.” You tell them, “I’m just afraid of committing to Tom himself,”

Katie walks into the kitchen, three glasses in her hand, “He’s a good person, y’know,” Katie sits down the glasses in front of you and Ciera.

“It’s true,” Ciera speaks, “He’s not as bad as you say he is,”

You end up rolling your eyes at both of their words, “I know, but I’ve just always seen him in the worst light there is, rude to teachers, to people, at parties he gets blackout drunk - always coming to me when he needs help, tries to form a friendship, forgets all about it the next day and comes running back to me again, so sorry if I’m a little on the fence.” You tell your best friends.

Ciera rubs your arm, looking at Katie, “We’re gonna leave you to cool off and think alright, we’ll be at the bar about five minutes away, we’ll see you soon.” Ciera and Katie sigh leaving you to your thoughts.

You walk over to the couch and turn on the TV, sitting down you look at the glass of drink in your hand, placing it down on the coffee table. Your dorms windows were open so you just looked at the night sky through them, it wasn’t cold nor hot. A little warm - you wished you could forget about all of the shit that was happening at the moment. But Tom wouldn’t leave you alone, he texted you asking you how you were doing, trying to grab your attention. You had to admit it, it was kind of sweet of him to text you once a day and ask. To call you to try to ask. He left a voicemail everyday too, and they were filled with nice messages for you to listen to. Just him talking about his day.

You thought of what you had said earlier, being scared to commit to Tom. You sighed as your head turned back to the TV, you felt something in you that you hadn’t felt before. A sense of urgency. You slipped on a pair of shoes and made your way to Tom’s Frat house.

It wasn’t late, so you just banged on the door. Out came Harrison Osterfield, Tom Hollands best friend - not to mention the fact that you also helped him pass a couple of his classes, he was Tom’s best friend and a good guy. He made an effort to say ‘Hey Y/N!’ in the Quad or if he sees you on your way to class.

Why couldn’t you like Harrison? you asked yourself as he met your eyes.

“Hey Haz,” You smile.

Haz chuckled, “Hello, Y/N, what can I do for you today?”

“Do you by any chance know where Tom is?” You queried, “It’s kinda important? I dunno, but I have to talk to him.”

“Well, he’s upstairs in his room, third room on the right.” He said opening the large door a little more to let you inside.

You made your way into the large mansion (well, a really big house, but extra points for the spiral staircase in the middle of the house), the house looked different with nobody in it. There was lots of room to move around and you didn��t have to sit in one corner of the room. The floor was a pearled white marble, something you hadn’t actually seen before. You made your way up the large staircase and over to Tom’s room.

Before entering, you knocked on the door, when you walked in you saw something you didn’t want to see at all, “WHAT THE FUCK, TOM?” You almost screamed, as he looked up at you, fear in his eyes - he was obviously in bed with some blonde bitch.

“Y/N WAIT,” he hurries to put his pants on before running after you.

“NO TOM, I’M NOT WAITING FOR YOU, I CAME HERE TO BE MORE LIKE YOU’VE WANTED FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS AND YOU’RE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, I WAS READY TO FACE MY FEARS AND JUMP INTO THE DEEP END.” You felt like you were on the verge of tears. He had done all this waiting for you, so you felt like you owe him some time, time to talk to explain himself, but it didn’t feel worth it.

Tom’s face goes red, “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, Y/N, SO DESPERATELY AND THE ONE TIME I ASK YOU TO WAIT YOU SAY NO-”

“YOU WERE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, THOMAS,” You groan frustrated, calming yourself down, “I was afraid to commit to you, Tom. I always saw you as some shitty person, but after seeing you wait for me taking your time. I’m still not ready but I thought, ‘Hey! that’s the beauty of something scary, you never know!’” you quote your thoughts, “BUT I GUESS I WAS RIGHT.”

You made your way out the door as Tom grabbed your arm, “Y/N,” His eyes looked into yours, they were clearly sorry - but you couldn’t buy it anymore, “I’m sorry.”

You knew he was, you could hear it in the voice crack, the tears that were now running down his face. He sniffled as he held your arm, knowing that he fucked up. Although you wanted to wait, you knew you should’ve made a move sooner. You had so much time and even going into the frat house today, you didn’t even know but you knew you’d never be ready for something like this without going into it head on.

Tom fucked up by not waiting when he told you was.

Although the two of you weren’t dating, it still hurt like a knife to the chest.

“Fucking, bullshit Tom.” You said it. Immediately regretting it when it came out of your mouth.

You stormed out of the house, Tom’s hot hand leaving your skin.

S U M M E R

YOU, KATIE AND CIERA are on the beach, you’d actually flown to another country to do so, Greece was lovely this time of year.

You store into the clear blue waters as Katie and Ciera swam their lives away staying next to each other. To say the least, you were quite jealous of them. Not just because any chance at a relationship with Tom had flown out the window. You were shattered at the thought. The girls thought a nice getaway would do you good, better than Tom could ever. But they were wrong.

Now that you and Tom weren’t going to be together, you wanted him more than you could’ve wanted him before. You stood up, your toes in the sand as you called out to your friends.

“Guys! I’m gonna go for a little walk around, I’ll catch you guys back here in a little bit,” They both nodded, not giving a second thought before you walked away. This was more of an excuse to get away together and have you be the third wheel.

You walked through the streets looking around at boutiques and stores that line the streets. You walked into a few and ran your hand over the racks. You didn’t buy anything. But the thought was nice, as you walked however, you saw a familiar face standing in an Ice-Cream shop.

“Haz?” You asked as he turned to you with a smile.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “Hey, Y/N!”

After you and Tom had the argument, you had been avoiding Tom at all costs, you hadn’t however been ignoring the other guys, and the other guys told Tom how you were doing. You would smile and talked to his friends and the second he should show up, you leave Tom in the dust and in the dark.

“So who are you here with?” You questioned Haz.

His smile falters but he catches it, “Just the boys, you know, Tuwaine, Harrison...” he trails off for a moment, “Tom.”

You sigh, “Well, I hope you guys are having a good time, I better get going, Katie and Ciera are waiting at the Hotel for me.”

Harrison groans playfully, “How about you text your friends and come hang out with us?” He smiles, charming.

“What about Tom?” You questioned.

Harrison sighs looking at you softly, “You and Tom need to talk, wether it’s under the influence, or wether it’s sober. You and him need to talk - he’s completely crushed. He has been for four months, you guys haven’t talked in four months, even before that you barely talked.”

“Look, Haz, Tom and I slept together and he pined for me and then I got him in bed with some blonde bitch and the rest is now.” You glared at Haz for even trying, but he was right - the two of you needed to talk. It wasn’t debatable anymore, you let out a heavy sigh, “But, I’ll go, you’re right.”

“Okay,” Harrison smiles, “If you want Ciera and Katie to come, they can.”

“Trust me, they’re probably very busy.” You laugh and wink as he leads you back to where the boys were partying for the night. It came quicker than it left, one minute you were on the beach, the next it was dark and you were at a bon fire, where there were only five partygoers, you and four boys.

“HARRY!!!” you hear three voices chime loudly, as you walk out Haz those cheers stop.

“H-Hey, Y/N,” Tom speaks nervously.

“Hey Tom.”

A few moments later, is what it feels like, after you’ve drunk a few drinks, you’re laughing with Tom, smiling with Tom, getting feely with. Tom. You were telling so many stories about your life during uni, during high-school and embarrassing ones at that. They traded theirs and you traded yours. It was turning out to be a fun time, and then Haz, Harrison and Tuwaine all turned in. You watched as the fire burnt in front of you and Tom, the yellow and orange flame.

You weren’t totally sloshed and neither was Tom, maybe just a little tipsy, a little more relaxed, “Tom, I’m sorry,” You spoke, “What happened between us all those nights ago - It just really hurt, Tom.”

“I can’t keep telling you how sorry I am, I fucked up,” He sighs.

You sigh, “We both fucked up, Tom. I should’ve told you how I was feeling and I shouldn’t have made you wait for me.”

“And I shouldn’t have fucked someone else,”

“You had every right to-”

“NO I DIDN’T.” He raises his voice, “I shouldn’t have slept with someone else, because I am so in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe what he had told you, “Tom I-”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, I just- I needed you to know,” He stands, walking away before you can say anything else.

A U T U M N

ALTHOUGH YOU KNEW HOW TOM FELT ABOUT YOU, you still decided to hangout with him, be friends. Figure out what you wanted to do about it. Do about your feelings for him. You felt like you were leading him on but every time you asked him about it, he assured you differently. He was okay with being friends, but you’ll always know he’ll want more.

You and Tom walked through campus, the leaves that blossomed now orange and yellow, falling from the sky - crunching under your feet, a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. You had a warm navy winter coat over your figure. Tom linked his arm with yours.

“I’ve got class,” He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket with a reminder telling him about his class.

You smile pulling him closer, “I’ll see you later then,” He hugs you and you tighten it, not wanting to let go of him, but reluctantly doing so. You watch as he walks away, Katie walking up behind you with her own cup of Coffee.

“Where’s he going?” Katie asks you and you look over at her.

“Class.” The word comes out of your mouth, almost as if you’re sad to watch him walk away. That’s because you were sad to watch him walk away.

Katie chuckles, “Let’s get back to the dorm, Ciera bought donuts!” She jumps, excited to go back.

“What kind?” You question your best friend.

She freezes, “Well she’s my girlfriend so,”

“That means that she was clearly thinking of you, so I take it they bought-”

“Jam!” Katie smiles, as the two of you walk, she skips.

This is what you wanted with Tom. You wanted him to buy you donuts and for you to get excited when he doesn’t even ask what type you want - you wanted him to just surprise you with the smallest things. Remember the smallest details. But you had missed it all, every morning, Tom brought you a coffee as the two of you headed to the only class the two of you had together, that he hadn’t asked you for your order at all, or your birthday earlier that month, he brought you your favourite soft drink, even though he hadn’t asked you what it was. Not to mention he wrapped your gift in your favourite colour. But you were so blindsided to all of that. You weren’t seeing it at all.

You got back to your dorm and left Katie and Ciera to watch TV on the couch when you headed into your room. You sat on your bed, as you looked at the shelf that sat across from it, Tom’s present sat perfectly on it. It wasn’t much, it was just a Viynl of your favourite TV Character, he had told you he wanted to get you something else - but they didn’t have it in stock anywhere. To which you assured him it was okay. You sighed at you just looked at it; store at it. Almost a minute had passed - what seemed like the longest minute of your life. So many thoughts had travelled through your head. So many questions.

All of them unanswered.

All, except for one. This question had been everything since the night you and Tom slept together for the first and only time, but looking at the present. Thinking about the late night studies or when the two of you recently developed the stupid habit of meeting in the library when the two of you couldn’t sleep, or just going on walks around the campus - laughing with each other. You were so afraid. But you were stupid for being so afriad. Tom had been a better friend than anyone could have ever been (except for Katie and Ciera of course), you and Tom had a connection that was irreplaceable. Somewhat unbreakable. It’s hard to think that you hated him. hard to think that you found him unbearable. But it was also hard to think that you could avoid him. Ignore him. Stop being friends with him.

But you just ended up together in the end anyway.

So what was the point? What was the point running from something that was always going to catch upto you anyway?

⏤

NIGHT FELL ON THE CAMPUS, you weren’t exactly sure what you were doing but it felt like the night you caught Tom in bed with that girl all over again. But this time you knew you wouldn’t. Because Tom assured you he wouldn’t. Not till you told him no. So you took his absolute word for it.

You looked at the large doors of the Frat House that sat in front of you, knocking violently, waiting for someone to open the door - It was Haz, and although you didn’t say anything. He knew what you were going to do. So he shut the door, and you took a step back composing yourself, readying yourself for what you were about to do and you could never be truely ready, but you had to trust your gut on this one.

You weren’t on the doorstep anymore, you were on the ground, in front of the stairs that lead to the House as Tom walked outside. You weren’t wearing anything special. You were wearing your bike shorts and a white shirt. You were wearing white runners and ankle-high socks. Your hair the same as it always was. You looked at the boy and his curls with a smile.

He knew what was coming - but he let you speak, “Tom, for a long time. I was scared. So fucking scared that I pushed you away. If I’m going to be completely one-hundred percent honest with you, I’ve had feelings for you from the start. But I let my thoughts get the better of me. I let myself think you were some douchebag, when in reality - you’re the exact opposite. You’re the kindest, sweetest, most caring person in the world. God, this is so cliché.” You chuckles as he laughs along with you, however, you start to tear up a little, overcome with emotions, “I always thought I was incapable of finding someone to love, someone who would love me the same way that Ciera and Katie love each other or the same way that Patrick Verona and Julia Stiles love each other.”

Tom smiles at the last reference - you had forced him to watch 10 Things I Hate About You on one of those lonely nights the two of you spent unable to sleep and you told him you cried so much at the movie - he assured you he wouldn’t. But he failed.

“Look Tom, what I’m trying to say is that-” You stop yourself for a moment. It takes everything in your body to finally spit it out. Say what you’ve been wanting to say and when you do. It feels so good.

“I... Love.. You.” You said it.

Tom bolts over to you, pressing his lips to yours it’s more desperate and hungry something that reminded you of the first night the two of you kissed. But it was just as magical, just like every single kiss to come, just like every single peck on the cheek. Every single laugh. Every single smile, hug, handhold. Every single night where the two of you will just lay next to each other. The movie nights, the dates.

All of it.

Because every single time it does. Every single time any of those happens.

You somehow manage to fall in love with him all over again.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader imagine #tom holland x reader imagines #tom holland imagines #x reader #tom holland x you

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pollylynn · 3 years

Photo

Title: Reproach WC: 1100 Episode: Dreamworld (6 x 02)

She is, in every way, a better person than he is. Oh, she is not without her flaws—and for going on six years, it has been his duty to tease those out, to tempt her to listen not to her better angels, but to her her way-more-fun devils. It has been his honor and his privilege to coax one eye open when she has them scrunched closed so that she can see that the personal failing that has her so tied in knots is simply the tiniest imperfection that exists solely for the purpose for throwing the glorious rest of her into sharper relief. It has been his greatest calling to bluster and preen and feign jealousy and an utterly wrongheaded sense of superiority that they both know is a joke, because she is so obviously and entirely a better person than he is in every way.

Except right now, he thinks she might be a better person than he is in every way except one, because he, unlike her, has regrets now that he’s dying. He as a lot of regrets, and that seems like the right move as the hours of his life potentially tick away. It seems like a litany of regrets is a far more rational response than some zen nonsense about good runs and all that come to peace with it nonsense that surely must have been fatigue addling her brain after hours standing on that bomb.

He has regrets and regrets have him making lists, making decisions, taking action. In fact, regrets have him adding yet another action item to the list: Call Beckett on her no-regrets bullshit. He adds that way down at the bottom, though, because there’s so much else to do. There are so many other action items.

He regrets that he will not be able to finally unpack her apartment for her. That’s an action item for the top of the list with the name Lanie next to it. And the name Ryan appears next to that a moment later, because honestly, what will Lanie know about organizing a kitchen, other than where best to place the knife block so it’s on hand for all your spur-of-the-moment body-disposal needs.

He deeply regrets that he will not be around to oversee her caffeination. That one hurts, because he’s fallen down on the job here. He thinks of McCord and the “coffee”-related gesture that only drove the woman’s foot further into her own mouth, because seriously, who would try to make amends with that? He thinks of Kate and how terribly she has been suffering because he couldn’t be bothered to find a way to circumvent government rules about gifts from millionaire fiancés to get an espresso machine into the building. He pencils in Esposito there, because if there’s anyone who can brute force equipment past the feds . . . well, it’s probably not Esposito, but she would likely be able to use him getting tased as a distraction so she could DIY that right into the break room, and failing that, at least get a laugh out it.

He does pencil Esposito in next to the Deal With Pi action item, then parenthetically ads Call Mother? He feels a genuine surge of warmth for his mother when he recalls the disgust that zipped its way down the line from New York to this disappointing underground lair when the odious jungle interloper tried to call out “helpful” tips about the ACLU. He comes over a little bit misty when he imagines the hideous ends those two diabolical heads will surely devise, and it’s not that he doesn’t trust Kate to take care of it, he’s just worried she’ll come over all soft when she thinks of Alexis suffering yet another loss.

Alexis

There’s just a name there. There are no action items. It’s too overwhelming to consider, and he even thinks for a moment of striking out the Pi-related action items. He would like to understand Pi. He would like to have the time to throw a tantrum, throw up his hands and declare to the world at large that he will never understand Pi, because Pi, that ambulatory pile of hemp and hair, defies augury. He’d like to have the time to be completely impossible about Pi, but that is not in the cards.

So little is in the cards, and he regrets that.

He regrets that he will not get to dandle the impending little Ryan on his knee and school the new father on swaddling and swat diapering. He regrets that he will not be able to buy a literal library of children’s must-haves, then stand back and watch the fun as Kevin and Jenny try to cram it all into the tiny room they have available for the nursery. He wants to be around to see how the Lanie-and-Esposito elopement pool turns out.

“What’s this?”

She materializes behind him. Maybe not materializes. Maybe she’s been watching all along and maybe it’s the fat that his pen has slowed, it’s slipped from his hand as the idea of someone else’s wedding ambushes him and he’s thinking about his wedding, their wedding, the wedding they won’t have.

Whether she’s materialized or just arrived, she’s lightning fast and he is . . . not. Already, he’s halfway to his third shot and he is not lightning fast.

“Kate . . .” He reaches fruitlessly for the crumpled sheet of paper.

“What is this?” She shakes it at him. She’s furious.

“Regrets.” He hangs his head. He’s not a better person than she is, even in this small way. “Kate, I can’t help it, I have them.”

“Can’t help it?” Confusion makes inroads against the fury. “What the hell are you talking about?” “You. No regrets,” he’s mumbling. He’s embarrassed and defensive. He doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want her to be mad. He doesn’t want to waste a second, but the sullen words come anyway. “I know you said you didn’t have any, but I do.”

“Are you stupid?” She balls up the list. She throws it who knows where. She drops to her knees and wraps her arms awkwardly around him. “It’s just something you say. Something stupid you say.”

“Oh,” he murmurs against her shoulder. “Guess I’m not stupid, then.” He presses his cheek into the softness of her neck. “Beckett, am I less stupid than you?”

“Hardly.” She manages something that’s a laugh, something that’s a strangled cry. “You’re stupider, Castle. You’re way, way stupider.”

He knows she’s right. She’s always right.

A/N: Regrets should have all the morphousness of dark matter, and yet . . .

images via kissthemgoodbye

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 6 #Castle: Dreamworld #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Martha Rodgers #Lanie Parish #Alexis Castle #Javier Esposito #Kevin Ryan #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

It's the Memories - 40s Series (J. Oleksiak)

Summary: On your and Jamie's wedding anniversary, you both recount the love story you both had throughout the war.

Series Masterlist

A/n: Here's the next part! This one took a bit of time, but I hope you enjoy it! This one exists in the same universe as the Roope fic from earlier in the series (yes, I know they're both reader inserts, but oh well!) Let me know what you thought!

Warnings: Mentions of war, doctors appointments

Word Count: 9.1k

Note: Italics are flashbacks.

“You know,” Alissa, your eldest daughter states. “We don’t really know you guys’ love story. We know that you met during the war but nothing else.”

“In the spirit of celebrating your wedding anniversary, what if you shared?” Dawson, Alissa’s husband states.

You look at Jamie. “What do you think?”

“That’s a lovely idea,” Jamie says. “I guess we start at the beginning, then.”

“How did you first meet?” Clara, your granddaughter asks.

“That’s a difficult question, Clara,” Jamies says, and you begin to shake your head. “What? It is.”

“I’m confused,” Alissa says.

“Your father has a memory of meeting me before I remember meeting him,” you explain.

“Really, dad?” Alissa asks. “Mum has an amazing memory; I think she’d know if she met you before.”

“Why would I forget meeting the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“He’s making things up,” you say. “But thank you for the compliment. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

“Really? Some of the soldiers in my unit were quite studs. Like, Roope? If he didn’t have a girl back home, I think I’d be slightly scared of you want him.”

“But I married you,” you remind him.

“Right, that you did.”

“Dad, why don’t you tell your version of meeting mom, and then, mom, you go,” Brandon, your son suggests.

“Jame, you go,” you tell your husband.

“Well, we were on the USS Harmon heading for England, and your mom was a Red Cross nurse.

When you signed up to be at the Red Cross, you were expecting to help in the Texas Area, not in England. However, you jumped at the chance to help the troops overseas as a nurse. That’s how you ended up on the USS Harmon. Not an easy trip, you found it incredibly difficult to be on the ship. You were incredibly seasick and were in constant need of a toilet or bag.

Tonight was no exception. One of the other Red Cross ladies said that going outside would be good for you to do to settle your stomach. Yeah, as you were standing outside, you didn’t think it was working. You were cold, and your stomach was so queasy you weren’t sure if you’d make it through the rest of the trip.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” a soldier asks.

“I mean, technically, no,” you answer.

“May I ask what’s wrong?”

“I’m quite chilly, and I’m incredibly nauseous. I’m afraid I’m going to throw up.”

“Here,” he tells you as he shrugs off his jacket. “Take my jacket; you look like you need it more than I do.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll probably head inside soon.”

“Well, here’s a bag that I always have on me. I don’t get queasy often, so you can have my bag.”

You take the bag out of his hand. “Thank you. I’m going to head inside now. Again, thank you.”

“Of course, have a goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight.”

Despite the dim moonlight, Jamie knew you were the most beautiful woman ever.

“You really thought grandma was the most beautiful woman in the world?” Clara asks.

“I did, and she still is,” Jamie answers.

“For everyone’s information, I don’t remember that,” you say. “Also, you never got my name so who are you to remember that it was me.”

“You greatly underestimate my love for you,” Jamie says.

“I don’t think so.”

“Mom, you go,” Alissa directs.

“Sure, well, we met after we’ve already landed on land.”

“Oh, thank goodness, we’ve made it,” Elizabeth says. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.”

“I was ready to hurl myself off of the boat,” you say. You were glad that you’ve landed; you weren’t sure what you’d be able to do if you had to go another day on that boat.

“Well, let’s go find the rest of the Red Cross ladies, so we can head to our base,” Clara says.

The three of you head off towards the signs that say “Red Cross”. On your way, though, you trip and fall. Luckily, though, someone catches you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” you say. You look up and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Oh course, ma’am,” he says to you. He sets you up, and you catch a light tint of red on his cheeks. “Lieutenant Jamie Olesiak.”

“Red Cross Nurse, Yn Yln. Nice to meet you.”

A weird look crosses Jamie’s face. “Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” he says. You couldn’t quite tell what Jamie’s expression was.

“I have to go, but it was nice to meet you,” you tell him with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“See you around,” Jamie says and watches you walk away. There’s a soft smile resting on his face. He knew that you were going to be a vital part of his life.

“You are already so whipped for her,” Tyler says, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. “This is going to be interesting.”

That was true, Jamie was indeed quite whipped for you.

“Your dad had a weird look on his face, and I still can’t quite tell you why,” you say after recounting the story.

“I probably had a weird look on my face because I already remember meeting you,” Jamie recounts.

“Sure, sure,” you say. “I’m not saying that I met you, but you should know better than anyone that when I get sick, I get tunnel vision and forget everything.”

“So you’re telling me that there’s a chance that we’ve met?”

You smile. “There is a chance, but I guess we’ll never know.”

“Grandma, tell us about the next time you saw Grandpa again,” Clara asks eagerly.

“Well, it was at a pub about a month later,” you begin. “It was a day off for both of us, and we happened to run into each other.”

You followed Elizabeth into the hole-in-the-wall pub that she said was amazing. She went on a date the previous week at this place and ate here. She insisted that she absolutely had to take you. You both take a seat at a table and look at the menu.

“Ms. Yln?” someone says from the table to your right. You slightly swivel your head to see who it is.

“Lieutenant Oleksiak,” you say with a smile. Your simple smile was enough to set Jamie’s heart rate through the roof. How is that possible? “How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Jamie says with a flirty edge in his voice.

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that so? Aren’t you smooth?”

“I have to try for a pretty girl to remember me.”

“Pretty girl, huh?” you repeat.

“That’s a bit of an understatement because you are so beautiful.”

You feel the heat rush to your face. Jamie really knew how to flatter you. You were about to say something when someone at Jamie’s table cleared his throat. “I’ll let you get back to your table and company,” you say. “It was nice to see you again.”

Jamie looks at you with a soft smile before returning back to his table.

“So, Jamie?” Elizabeth asks. “He’s cute.”

You nod.

“Maybe you should ask him out or something.”

“No, no,” you say and drop your voice. “I can’t have anything distracting me while I help nurse these soldiers back to life.”

“Why are we whispering?” Elizabeth loudly whispers. Jamie glances at you from the corner of his eyes and softly chuckles. This was why you wanted to whisper, so Jamie couldn’t hear you. Despite you finding Jamie incredibly attractive, you didn’t want to lead into his advances knowing he could distract you from your ultimate goal.

You glare at Elizabeth, and you hear Jamie chuckle again.

“Oh, that’s why we’re whispering,” Elizabeth says in a whisper this time.

You sigh and shake your head. “Let’s just eat.”

“Grandpa, did you hear their conversation?” Clara asks cheekily.

Jamie nods. “I did indeed. It pained me just a little bit knowing Grandma didn’t want to date me, but I knew she’d fall for me eventually.”

You shake your head playfully. “You never lost that cockiness, did you?”

“May I remind you that you married me and knew exactly what you were getting yourself into all those years ago?”

“That I did.”

“How long did it take for you to finally go on a date with dad?” Alissa asks.

“It took me scheming with her friends for us to finally go on a date,” Jamie answers.

“How long was that?”

“Almost a year.”

“A whole year?” everyone gasps.

“In my defense, it wasn’t like we saw each other every day. For the first twelve months, we probably only saw each other once a month.”

“Tells us about that,” Sawyer, your four-year-old grandson says.

“If you insist,” Jamie says and throws a wink. Despite being together for years and years, he still had the ability to make you flustered and bring heat to your face with just a simple wink.

July 1942

“We have boxes and supplies for the nurses,” Jamie says to the woman sitting at the front of the nurses' offices.

“Perfect,” she says. “You can just bring it to the back for Ms. Yln. She’s in the last room on the right.”

At the sound of your last name, Jamie smiles. “Yn?”

“Oh right, you’re Jamie, right?” the woman says. “Elizabeth was telling us about the soldier who’s quite keen about her.”

“Keen is an understatement,” Tyler says from behind Jamie. “We just go down the hall?”

The woman nods. “Yes, that exactly.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, but what’s your name?” Tyler asks.

“Kate,” she responds.

“Kate, I’m Tyler,” he says with a smile. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Kate responds, and Tyler and Jamie head down the hall.

The boys walk down the hall, and Jamie knocks on the door that you’re standing in. At the sound of a knock, you turn around and lookup.

“Ms, Yln, we bring supplies,” Jamie says with a smile that ignites the butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s perfect, thank you,” you say. “You can leave them on the table over there, and I’ll put them away.”

“I’m going to head back to the truck and grab the final few boxes,” Tyler says. “You can stay here and help her begin putting them away.”

Jamie nods. He’d do anything to spend more time around you. “How can I help?” he asks.

“Just put the supplies where the labels match,” you tell him.

“That makes sense,” Jamie says in a tone that makes you giggle. Hearing you giggle, Jamie looks at you and thinks he’s fallen for your more.

After about five minutes of placing bandages and supplies away, Jamie finally decides to open his mouth to say something. “Are you doing anything this Friday?” he asks.

“Oh, I think Elizabeth wants to take me and Kate to this pub that she’s been to and that she says is amazing,” you say oblivious to the true intentions behind Jamie’s words.

“Oh,” Jamie says deflatedly. He wasn’t sure what answer he was looking for, but it wasn’t that.

“May I ask why you wanted to know?” you ask with a smile on your face looking up at Jamie.

He meets your eyes. You could give him that smile every time, and he knew you could get away with anything. (You got away with everything to this day with that smile.) “Oh, I was just asking.”

You widen your smile. “Why were you just asking?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?” you ask in a voice that Jamie knows that he can’t resist.

“I wanted to ask to see if I could take you out for dinner,” Jamie replies in a voice that was a cross between a mumble and a whisper.

“Oh,” you say; however, your voice was very low. Jamie only knew what you were saying because of the shape of your mouth. “Maybe another time?” you suggest.

Jamie’s mood does a three-sixty and smiles. “Yeah! Another time.”

You were going to say something else, but you could hear Tyler approaching the room you were currently in. “This is the last of them,” Tyler says.

You nod. “Thank you so much for this. Um, see you around?”

Jamie smiles at you. “See you around, definitely.”

August 1942

“If it isn’t the elusive Ms. Yn Yln, the Red Cross’ finest nurse,” Tyler says as he walks into the medical examination room. Once a month, the pilots had to come in for a check-up to make sure that the altitude changes weren’t causing them to get sick. Today, you were making those checkups. It also happened to be that you were going to be examining Jamie’s unit.

“How am I elusive, Mr. Seguin?” you say with a chuckle.

“You drive Jamie crazy after he sees you for all of five minutes. Your smile or laugh or whatever makes him go crazy, and then he doesn’t see you again for a while. Just when he’s about to kind of get over you, there’s an opportunity for him to see you again and make him go crazy about you again.”

“Oh.”

“He’s head over heels for you, so I’m asking you to be nice to him, please,” Tyler says.

You nod. “Let’s get started on this examination.”

You finish the examination in twenty minutes, and you deem Tyler healthy. You excuse Tyler and tell him to send in the next soldier.

“Guess who’s conducting our examinations today?” Tyler says to the men in front of him. “Yn Yln.”

Jamie blushes at the mere sound of your name.

“This the girl that Jamie is in love with?” Miro asks.

“Yup,” Tyler says, putting an emphasis on the p.

“I’m not in love with her,” Jamie grumbles with a smile on his face.

“No, no, you are,” Tyler insists. “You have the same look on your face that Roope has whenever he gets a letter from his girl back home.”

Roope was about to contradict Tyler’s comment, but you walk out before he can say anything. “Tyler, you were supposed to the next person back.”

“Yn,” Jamie says and immediately stands up.

“Jamie, you’re next?” you ask with a smile. Jamie nods enthusiastically, and you laugh in response. “Follow me.”

Jamie follows you into the examination room with a blush lining his cheeks. “I never got the chance to take you out for dinner,” he says.

You turn to face Jamie. “In my defense, I don’t really know how to reach you, but you do.”

“So, this is my fault?” Jamie says with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, just a little bit,” you say teasingly.

“Can I at least get a redo? A chance to take you out?”

You nod. “Sure, you can take me out.”

“I can’t wait,” Jamie says and flashes you a smile that makes your heart beat faster.

“Why don’t we conduct your examination first to make sure you’re healthy enough to even take me out, yeah?”

“What?” Jamie says, and his face pales. There’s a chance he might not be healthy enough?

“Don’t worry,” you say with a light chuckle. “You were able to walk in here fine, so I think you’re going to be just fine.”

“Oh,” Jamie says relieved. Turns out, he was fine. Jamie left the examination room walking on clouds knowing that he would finally get the chance to take you out.

“You’re telling me that mum didn’t go out with you the first time you asked her out?” Alissa asks.

“She did not,” Jamie answers. “Your mum strung me along thinking I had a chance with a beautiful woman.”

“I did not,” you say. “In my defense, I had a job to do, and I didn’t want it to get in the way. Also, I really didn’t have any way to contact you.”

“But, you guys are here now, so it doesn’t really matter,” Clara says. “Grandpa, continue telling

me the story.”

September 1942

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you had the day off. To take advantage of the day off and the nice weather, you, Kate, and Elizabeth decided to head into the town to go for a walk and grab dinner later that evening. You were walking on the path that was adjacent to the duck pond. The three of you were talking about the recent film Kate saw when she went on a date (not with Tyler, he also had yet to follow up on the date he wanted to have). You wanted to stop for a moment to observe the view. So you told the girls to continue ahead, and you’d catch up with them later.

“Isn’t this weird?” a deep voice says next to you. “Maybe the universe wants to tell us that we should finally go out on a date.”

You turn to the voice and smile. “Hello, Jamie.”

“Yn, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, and you?”

“Could be better, but oh well.”

“How so?” you ask.

Jamie looks at you and smiles. “You could finally let me take you out.”

“That’s what’s causing your so-called foul mood?” you tease. You were going to let him take you out one day; however, you weren’t going to go after him. You were going to stick to your proclamation that you didn’t want to get involved with anyone because it might make it difficult to do your job. You weren’t going to go out of your way to look for him, but you also weren’t going to avoid him. If Jamie happened to stop by and see you to confirm a time and place for this date, then, yes, you’d go out with him.

“It is,” he says. “You keep saying that you’ll go out with me, but we never end up going out. I wonder why that is.”

“I, for one, don’t know where to go to find you,” you say in defense.

“So, this is my fault?”

“It kind of is your fault,” Brandon says to Jamie. “From what I can tell, mom didn’t have any way to get in contact with you or see you, but you did.”

“Wow, traitors,” Jamie says feigning hurt. “Your mother did just admit it, though, that she wasn’t outright going out of her way to try to make this date happen.”

“That’s on you, mom,” Alissa says. “Dad, though, I think it’s mostly you to blame. As far as I can tell, you were holding on to each encounter with mom. On the other hand, mom was totally fine with what she could get from you.”

“See?” you say to your husband. “It kind of is your fault.”

“Just continue the story,” Sawyer whines.

“Okay, okay,” Jamie says and continues.

“I mean, I’m a very busy person, and, as I’ve said, I don’t know how or where to find you,” you say. “However, you know exactly where to find me, yet you never come to try to set up this date.”

Jamie looks at you and smiles. He knew he was falling for you hard because he immediately agreed with you. You could have said that the earth was flat (it’s not, very much round), and he’d believe you. Jamie was falling for you, hard, and he needed to figure out a way for you to either feel the same way or find a way for him to get over you. One thing that Jamie was that he wanted to marry you one day. You had the energy, spunk, and wit that he knew he wanted his future wife to have. On top of that, you were so beautiful that he didn’t have to worry about what your children would like because as long as they got your looks, they were set for life. “Well, then, how about next Friday? I’ll pick you up at the nurses’ station where you are at 6, and I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“I’d like that a lot,” you tell Jamie.

As the days got closer to Friday, your smile somehow got wider and wider. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were floating on clouds by the time noon rolled around on Friday. You were sitting in the common area of the nurses' station on your break when Jamie walked in with a sad expression on his face. “I didn’t realize it was already 6,” you say trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, my bad,” Jamie says, but his facial expression has yet to change. “Yn, I’m sorry. We have a last-minute mission to fly tonight, and I can’t leave the base.”

“Oh,” you say softly. You look up at Jamie and see how sad he looks. You knew that you had to be positive for him so that he doesn’t get distracted as he flies tonight. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” Jamie says, and his eyes perk up.

“Yeah! I mean, we are in wartime, so there are going to be some hiccups of things that need to take precedent. We’ll have that date eventually, don’t worry.”

Jamie nods and a smile developed on his face. “Okay, if you’re sure. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. So, you and Jamie weren’t going to get that date. Despite you trying to act nonchalant about him and the date, you deep down were disappointed. You knew that you shouldn’t be this disappointed, but you still were. You knew that if you didn’t stop yourself that you’d be halfway to loving him by the end of the month.

October 1942

Despite already having one date already planned, you hadn’t seen Jamie in almost a month. It seemed to be a theme between the two of you. You understood, however, that it happened. After all, you and Jamie were both working during wartime. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, though.

On this particular Saturday in October, Kate wanted to go to the cinema with you and Elizabeth to enjoy the last few days of warm weather. So, at 6pm, you, Elizabeth, and Kate left base and headed off to the cinema. Before going to the movie, the three of you decided to go and grab dinner first. There was a pub not far from the cinema, so that’s where the three of you went.

“I’m sorry, we currently don’t have many open tables that are clean,” the hostess says. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Of course, no problem,” you told the hostess and went to find the other girls. You went in to try to get a table first. When you find Elizabeth and Kate, you notice that they’re talking to a group of American soldiers. Interesting, you wondered who they were.

“Yn, look who we ran into?” Kate says excitedly. You scan the group and smile. Of course. Who else would it be except for Jamie, Tyler, Esa, Roope, Miro, and Jason?

“Well, look who it is,” Tyler says. “Miss breaks Jamie’s poor heart.”

Jamie elbows Tyler in the ribs and turns to you. “Ignore him.”

“Hi, Jamie,” you say. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that by the way.”

“Don’t worry, truly. We’re both busy.”

Jamie looks at you with a curious eye. “Sure, but I feel like if we were able to have our date, then we’d be seeing each other more often.”

“Is that so?” you ask. “You could have come to me.”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “I guess as long as you have no way of reaching me, then it will be my fault?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smile.

“Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” Jamie asks.

“You can join us for dinner and head to the cinema with us,” Kate pipes in.

Jamie looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Did you want me to come?”

“If you would like, but I’m not sure if there’s going to be enough room at your table for everyone,” you say.

“Don’t worry, Kate and I will do our own thing,” Tyler says and winks at Kate.

“Why don’t I go in and see if they can accommodate all of us?” you suggest. “I’ll imply we’re going to be tipping very, very well.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jamie offers. This man was way too sweet.

“Thank you,” you tell him and lead him towards the door. “Thank you,” you say again as Jamie holds the door open for you. “Thank you,” you say once again as Jamie helps you steer through the crowds.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know,” Jamie says.

You feel the heat rush to your face. “Maybe then you shouldn’t keep doing things that result in me thanking you.”

“Noted,” Jamie says. He didn’t say it in any different or notable way. However, the way he said it brought warmth rushing to your face and made your heart flutter. You wanted to further contemplate these thoughts, but, thankfully, you and Jamie walked up to the hostess’s podium.

“Would it be possible to accommodate six more people?” you ask. The hostess tells you to give her a moment to check. When she returns, she tells you that it’s possible and that a table can be ready in just a few moments. “Why don’t I go out and tell the rest of our group that the table will be ready and that they should come in.”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Jamie says protectively. “I’m not letting you go out there alone with drunk soldiers walking around this place. I’ll go.”

Your heart warms at his words. “You’re going to let me stay here by myself, then?”

Jamie looks at you. “You got me there, but no. I think it’s better here, so I’ll go get them, okay? Don’t go anywhere. Don’t move.”

You nod. “Yes, sir,” you say and mock salute. Jamie just smiles at you and shakes his head. As he’s walking away, he turns back around and glances at you. You take a small step to your left as a joke, and Jamie just widens his grin. You’d do anything to get a smile like that out of him.

He returns with the rest of the group in just a few moments, and you’re all heading to your table almost immediately. Jamie falls in step with you and leans his head down to whisper in your ear. “I thought I asked you not to move.”

You look up at the man next to you. “Sure,” you say. “May I ask why it truly matters?”

“I was worried about you,” he says softly.

You look up at him and grab his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze his hand. “May I ask why?”

“No reason,” Jamie says, but you know there is a reason. You wanted to question why he refused to tell you the reason, but you opted that it was better to do it another time.

“Grandpa, what was the reason?” Clara asks.

Jamie looks at you. “I guess you’ll finally find out.”

“I guess I will,” you reply. “What was the reason?”

“I love you. Well, I loved you.”

“I know you love me, but why were you worried about me?”

“Because I loved you,” Jamie repeats. When he notices that you don’t quite understand what he’s referencing, he decides to explain. “I loved you and never stopped worrying about you. I didn’t want you to leave because I didn’t know if you’d disappear from my life again.”

“Why would I disappear from your life again?” you ask puzzled.

“I was in love with you, and it seemed that I only saw you once or twice a month. I didn’t like that.”

“Oh,” you say. “I hope that me taking a step about an inch to the left didn’t give you a heart attack.”

“No, but you holding my hand did,” Jamie says. “Clara, did you know that Uncle Tyler made fun of me for almost three weeks because of grandma holding my hand?”

“Really?” Clara says through giggles.

Jamie nods. “Yes, he did. Almost every day after that, I would bring it up, or I’d drift thinking about it. Uncle Tyler was ready to tease me every time.”

“It’s a good thing you guys got married, then,” Clara says.

“Why’s that?” you ask your granddaughter.

“Because you get to hold grandpa’s all the time, and it isn’t a memory anymore,” Clara says excitedly.

“Was that the reason you married grandma?” Sawyer asks. “So that you could always hold her hand?”

“That was one of the reasons, yes,” Jamie says and winks at you. “I married her because I loved her and couldn’t go a single day without her.”

“Is that why you married grandpa?” Sawyer asks you.

“I married your grandfather because I loved him more than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Do you still love him the most?”

“I do,” you say and smile at Jamie.

November 1942

To celebrate Thanksgiving, the American Red Cross was putting on a Thanksgiving dinner for the troops. On this day, you got the day off and were able to join the rest of the nurses and soldiers celebrating the holiday. You and Elizabeth made your way to the mess hall as directed and walked inside. You were both met with the smells that reminded you both of home. You began to grow sad imagining what your parents’ house must be like with all the cousins running around and the smells of the food cooking that you’d be missing.

“Well, look who it is,” Esa says. “The woman who is in love with Jamie but refuses to go on a date with him.”

“That’s not true,” you say. “We planned a date, but we had to cancel because he had a late-night flight. Speaking of Jamie, where is he?”

“Jamie? He’s outside.”

You say a brief thanks and go out to find him. You look around briefly before finding him.

“Hey,” you say quietly, not wanting to scare him. Jamie was sitting on a bench with his head between his legs. “Is everything okay?”

Jamie looks up and sees you. “Hey, yeah, I think so.”

You sit down next to him and begin stroking small circles on Jamie’s back. He never knew that such a simple touch could be so comforting. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Jamie shrugs.

“Okay, well, I’m here if you want to,” you say and continue to stroke soft patterns on Jamie’s back.

Almost five minutes pass before Jamie says something again. “I never realized how much I miss my family. Obviously, I know that I miss my family and stuff because obviously, I’m on the other side of the ocean. I never really got homesick at first, but the holidays are making me realize how much I miss everyone.”

You nod. You understand where he was coming from. Just the other day, you got a letter from your mother about how your sister was pregnant. Pregnant! You never realized how much you were missing. “Anything I can do?”

Jamie looks at you and smiles. “Let me take you on a date?”

You begin to giggle. “Really? Wow, you’re really using your moment of weakness to egg that on me, aren’t you.”

“I mean, I really like you, so it shouldn’t matter,” Jamie says. “Though, if me being in a moment of weakness means that you’d let me take you out, then yes.”

You shake your head playfully. “I’m all for you taking me out.”

“Then, why haven’t I taken you out?”

“You were going to, but then you had a night flight to make. We just haven’t found a time that works recently.”

“How about before Christmas?” Jamie proposes.

“I can do that,” you say with a smile. Would this be the time you finally got a date?

December 1942

“Knock, knock,” Jamie says as he knocks on the door in the examination room you were in.

You turn your head to the noise and smile widely when you see that it’s Jamie. “Jamie.”

“Yn.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask.

“I have something for you,” Jamie tells you. “It’s a holiday present.”

“Holiday present?” you ask curiously.

Jamie blushes. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you celebrated Christmas or anything, but I wanted to give you a present anyway. So, I’m calling it a holiday present.”

“I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Jamie looks at you, and he thinks he falls more in love. “It’s not a gift exchange, yn. It’s a gift for you from my heart.”

“From your heart?” you say teasingly, and Jamie blushes further. “I’m kidding, don’t worry.”

“Here,” he hands you a red bag. “Open it.”

You take the bag out of his hand, and your fingers brush his ever so slightly. At the touch, you feel the heat rise to your face. Your next immediate thought is “what would it be like to hold Jamie’s hand entirely?”

“I think you’ll like it,” Jamie whispers. He’s quite flustered after the little touch you both just experienced.

You nod unable to meet Jamie’s eyes. The effect he had on you was indescribable. You take the wrapping paper out of the bag and peer into it. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you just open it?” Jamie suggests.

“Or, you could just tell me,” you say flirtily.

“Or, you could just open it.”

“I’ll open it,” you say. You take out the box and open it. Inside is a delicate, simple necklace with your initials on it. “Jamie, you gasp.”

“Do you like it?” he asks eagerly.

“It’s beautiful; I love it,” you tell him with a look of hesitation in your eyes. Could you accept a gift like this?

“I thought you would, but I can also see the hesitation in your eyes. Yn, please, take the gift.”

“Thank you, Jamie, it’s beautiful. Can you help me put it on?” The minute the words come out of your mouth, you want to take them back. If he said yes, then that’d mean Jamie would be touching you. That also meant that you’d probably fall even harder for him.

“Sure,” he tells you. You take the necklace out of the box it’s in and hand it to him. You turn around and adjust your collar and hair so that Jamie has easy access to place the necklace on. He lifts his hands above your head, and you feel the cold of the necklace hit your chest softly. You’re standing there for a few moments as you feel Jamie fiddle with the clasp of the necklace behind you. When finished, Jamie readjusts your collar and tells you he’s finished softly.

“Thank you,” you tell him. You’re barely meeting his eye. Why would you? You just had an extremely intimate moment with someone you’re falling in love with. The heat is radiating off your face, and you’re pretty sure Jamie’s face is a deep crimson, too.

“Of course,” he tells you in a whisper. “It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

All of a sudden, Jamie takes a step closer to you, and you do the same. He puts his hand on your waist and begins to lean down. Was he going to kiss you? Was Jamie Oleksiak going to kiss you? Just as he’s getting close to your lips, he’s interrupted by Tyler yelling from the hall.

“Big Rig! We have to go,” Tyler yells. You and Jamie jump apart from each other, and you’re both barely able to meet each other’s eyes. “Woah, dude, why’s your face so red.”

“No reason,” Jamie mumbles and then turns to you. “I’ll see you around?”

You nod. “Thank you so much for the gift. I’ll have to be sure to get you something.”

Jamie smiles at you. “Let me take you out. That’ll be enough.”

“It’s a date!”

“Do you still have the necklace?” Sawyer asks.

“I do still have the necklace,” you answer. You pull the necklace from where it’s sitting around your neck to show your grandson. “And, I still wear it every day.”

“I’ve gotten your grandmother many, many necklaces over the years, but I love that one the most,” Jamie says.

“It’s really pretty, grandma,” Clara says.

“Just like grandma,” Jamie flirts with a wink. Despite the both of you getting quite old, Jamie never hesitates to flirt with you. You smile at your husband as your grandchildren and children moan and throw out a few “ew”s and “yuck”s. You didn’t care. You were in love with your husband and didn’t care who knew.

January 1943

Despite Jamie saying that all you had to do was let him take you out, you still wanted to get him something. In the past month since he gave you the necklace, you had yet to take it off. You also had yet to see him, so it only made sense that it was okay that you haven’t gone out with him. You were still reeling from the memory of Jamie’s hands on your waist and him so close to you. Every time you think of the memory, your face would grow warm and a giant smile would erupt on your face. You only hoped that you’d get to have these moments in person than always in your head.

You spent any and all free time daydreaming about Jamie. You thought about when you’d finally be able to go out with him and have a cute date. You couldn’t wait for it. In the meantime, though, you still were trying to figure out what to get him as a holiday gift.

On a Saturday off, you opted to go into the town to try to find a gift for Jamie. Kate and Elizabeth were both busy, so you’d be on your own. You got off the bus and walked around the main street trying to find a cute shop from which you could shop from. You find one and walk inside. Looking around, you notice that you’d probably be able to find exactly what you would need for Jamie.

You once recall that the soldiers were complaining that the rain was making it incredibly cold in the barracks. You figured that Jamie was in a similar situation, so you decided you were going to try to find a blanket for him to use while he slept. It wasn’t as expensive or nice as the necklace he got you, but it was the thought that counted, right?

You try to find someone who works at the shop to ask if they had what you were looking for. For about twenty minutes, you’re talking with the shopkeeper and find what you’re looking for. You find a green blanket with a white star in each corner. You weren’t sure what each star was meant for, but you figured it probably wasn’t too big a deal. You also opted to buy him a small pocket notebook he can put in the breast pocket of his uniform. You walked out of the store thirty minutes after you walked in and went looking for somewhere to have lunch.

“Yn?” you hear from behind you. Of course, of course, you happened to run into these boys.

“Hey, Tyler,” you say to the man. “Day off?”

“Indeed,” Tyler replies. “Don’t worry, Jamie is just around the corner.”

“I wasn’t --”

“Doesn’t matter, we know how crazy he is for you, so we only hope you’re just as crazy for him,” Roope says.

“Oh, um --”

“Why are we stopping here?” Jamie asks obliviously.

“Guess who we ran into?” Esa teases.

“Who?” Jamie asks, not noticing that you’re standing right there.

“Hey, Jamie,” you say softly.

Jamie’s face turns a blush pink at hearing your voice and looks at you. “Oh! Yn, I didn’t see you there.”

You laugh. “Don’t worry.”

“Why are you in town today?” he asks.

“I had a day off, so I decided to go shopping. Actually, I bought you a holiday gift.”

Jamie frowns. Does this mean that you aren’t going to let him take you out? “Oh.”

You look at him weirdly not sure why he’s acting the way he is. “Here,” you say and hand him the bag.

He takes the bag out of your hand and looks inside. He takes the blanket out and smiles. “A blanket? How did you know this was what I needed?”

“Some of the other soldiers were complaining, so I figured that you’d need one too,” you tell him, and the heat rises to your face.

“Meet us at the restaurant around the corner, okay?” Denis says. “We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for the time being.”

There wasn’t any room for argument as the group walked away leaving you and Jamie alone.

“I hope it’s warm enough for you.”

“I’ll constantly be warmed at the thought that you bought something for me,” Jamie flirts.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Who knew you were so smooth?”

“Every girl I’ve ever gone out with,” Jamie says confidently.

“Oh,” you say sadly. So, he just wants to take you on one date and that’s it?

“That’s a lie,” he corrects. “You’re the only one, yet I still haven’t taken you out yet.”

“Oh,” you say a bit more chipper.

“Because you got me a gift, does that mean I can’t take you out?”

You look at him with a smile. “You can take me out whether or not I got you a gift.”

“I have to join the boys for lunch, but do you want to join us?” Jamie asks nervously.

“Is this you taking me out?” you tease.

“No, I--”

“I’m only teasing. I’d love to join you guys,” you take Jamie’s hand, and he leads you towards the restaurant. Your shopping accomplished exactly what you wanted to get done, and you happened to leave that day with much more. Another fond memory of and with Jamie.

February 1943

“Let’s go over the plan one more time,” Kate says.

“I don’t even know why we need a plan,” you tell them. The plan? The attempt to get you and Jamie together at the Valentine’s Day Dance that night. The Officer’s Club was throwing a Valentine’s Day Dance for the soldiers and nurses to try to give the soldiers something to look forward to. The past month has been hopeful in the war effort with it being possible that it could be over soon. To celebrate, a Valentine’s Day Dance was being thrown.

“We need a plan because the two of you won’t ever get together unless we throw you two together,” Elizabeth says.

You shake your head. “I still don’t think we need a plan.”

“Too bad,” Kate says. “We have a plan. Elizabeth? Please go over it again.”

“Kate and I are going to coordinate with Tyler and Miro to put you and Jamie together as much as possible,” Elizabeth explains. “We are going to ask that they play a slow song so that Jamie will definitely ask you to dance because he is that kind of gentleman after all.”

“But, what if --” you try to say.

“No, we refuse to take any possible worst-case scenarios,” Kate interjects. “It’s not happening. Just enjoy the night and try to finally be with him, so you can both get together finally.”

You nod. “Okay, we’ll get there.”

. . .

The three of you walk into the Officer’s Club, and you’re met with an exorbitant amount of Valentine’s Day decorations. It was truly beautiful, and you felt that the worries of the war slowly drift away. You three walk to find your friends (mostly they want to put their plan into action as soon as possible).

“Hey guys,” Elizabeth says as you walk up to the group. You scan the group and see Tyler, Roope, Esa, Miro, John, and Denis, but you didn’t see Jamie anywhere. Maybe he was getting a drink?

“Hey, ladies,” Tyler says. “Don’t you three look beautiful.”

You all smile in thanks and compliment the boys back to him. You wanted to ask about where Jamie was, but you didn’t want to seem obvious. Thankfully, though, Kate says something for you.

“Where’s Jamie? We need him here, so he and Yn can finally get together.”

“He’s sick,” Roope answers.

“What?” you ask worriedly.

“Yeah, he caught a cold, so he’s staying in tonight. He didn’t want to get anyone else sick or get worse.”

“I hope he’s okay,” you say with a tinge of concern.

“He’s a big boy; he’ll be okay,” Tyler answers. “Although, you can go and see him. I’m sure he’ll love to see you. Our barracks are just a minute walk away.”

Your ears perk up. “Should I? I wouldn’t want him to be alone tonight.”

“Yes, yes, go,” Kate urges.

“I’ll walk you over to see him,” Roope offers. “Despite how close it is, you shouldn’t walk over alone.”

“Thank you, Roope,” you say, and you both head out. As you’re walking, you begin making conversation with him. “How’s your girlfriend back home?”

Despite the dark sky, you know that Roope has blushed. He always does when talking about his girlfriend back home. He’s so in love with her that it’s sickening but also cute. “She’s great. I got a letter from her the other day.”

“Do you miss her?”

“More than anyone or anything in the world.”

Your heart softens at Roope’s words. “You’ll be back home soon to see her; I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so,” Roope says with a sigh. “Here we are.”

“Thank you for walking me,” you say.

“Of course, just try to get him to walk you back, or wait for someone else to leave for the night to walk you back. If you’re not back in a few hours, I’ll come to make sure you’re good, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“That’s what Jamie would want for the girl he loves.”

“What?”

Roope looks at you, and his eyes go wide at his mistake. “Nothing, enjoy seeing him.”

Jamie loves you?

You knock on the door and hear someone mumble a “come in”.

“Hey, Jamie,” you say as you walk in.

“Yn?” he asks.

You laugh. “Hey, some of the boys mentioned that you were sick, so I thought I’d come to see you.”

“But I’m sick,” Jamie pouts.

“That’s what I just said,” you said comically.

“Oh.”

“Can I do anything?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I think I’m okay. Just hang out?”

“That I can do,” you say. You ended up staying that night for about two and a half hours until Roope came back. Jamie ended up falling asleep almost half an hour in. You wanted to leave, but you knew that Roope and Jamie would be disappointed in you. You watched Jamie sleep for a bit (in a noncreepy way). There was something very calming about the way he slept. There was something that warms your heart the way he bundled into the blanket you bought him. Just the mere thought and sight of Jamie warmed your heart. Maybe you loved him, too.

July 1943

Jamie couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep running into you and falling for you. For the past four months, you and Jamie have randomly run into each other, but each time, Jamie wishes he finally got an actual date to go on a date with you. Every interaction fueled the fire and love in his eyes that kept him going. Every interaction fueled his love for you. Jamie knew you were the most beautiful woman ever. Jamie knew, now, though, that you were the only person for him. Jamie knew that he was going to marry you one day. He tried seeing you and expressing how he feels through chance, but now he was going to get help.

Jamie walks into the Nurses Station in search of Kate or Elizabeth.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Oleksiak, let me go get Yn,” Kate says teasingly as she sees Jamie walk inside.

“Actually,” Jamie stops. “I need your help.

“What for?”

“I keep leaving Yn and me seeing each other to chance, and I’m ridiculously in love with her,” Jamie explains. “I need your help to ensure that I can finally take Yn on a date.”

Kate nods with a giant smile on her face. “Let me help in any way I can.”

. . .

“Don’t forget,” Kate reminds. “We’re going to dinner at that nice restaurant tonight, so dress up nicely.”

You roll your eyes. “I know; you’ve only mentioned it a million times in the past four days.” You, Kate, and Elizabeth were going to a nice restaurant in town to celebrate. Celebrate what? You weren’t quite sure, but you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to get dressed up.

You get off your shift at 5 that night, and you head to your barrack to get changed. You had a dark green dress that you bought recently but had yet to wear. You style your hair nicely into a ‘do that you know makes you look your best. You adjust the necklace Jamie got you so that the clasp was sitting at the back of your neck. At 5:50, you’re walking back to the Nurses Station to meet the girls. That’s where they decided to meet.

When you show up outside the Nurses Station, you don’t see anyone waiting outside, and most of the lights are off. You couldn’t recall if you were supposed to meet inside or outside, so you went inside knowing that it’d be more comfortable. You walk inside. Instead of seeing Kate and Elizabeth inside, you see Jamie standing there in his Army dress navy blues looking handsomely dashing. He looks almost like a prince.

“Oh, Jamie!” you say surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Wow, yn,” Jamie says as his eyes admire your appearance. “You look so beautiful.”

The heat rushes to your face from being under Jamie’s gaze and his compliment. “Thank you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, you look stunning,” Jamie says again. He couldn’t find the words to talk to you because you were so beautiful. Imagine how beautiful you’d look on your wedding day? Jamie, get ahold of yourself, Jamie thinks to himself. You need to take her on a date before you can propose to her.

“Thank you, Jamie; you look quite nice in your dress blues. However, what are you doing here? I’m supposed to be meeting Kate and Elizabeth for dinner tonight.”

“No, you’re not,” Kate says from behind Jamie. Where did she come from?

“You’re having dinner with Jamie instead,” Elizabeth says and emerges from her hiding place.

“Wait, but I thought --” you begin.

“I need help to get us together to go on a date because every time I brought it up, it never happened. I was tired of just seeing you about once a month,” Jamie explains.

You nod. “So you guys worked to get me here?”

Jamie nods.

“Why?” you ask curiously.

Jamie throws a deep chuckle your way and walks towards you. “Is it not obvious, Yn? I am so incredibly in love with you that I can’t keep doing whatever this is. Yn, I need you in my life, and I need you as more than a friend.”

“Well,” you begin after Jamie’s confession. “I’m incredibly in love with you, too, and I want all of that, too.”

Jamie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, thank goodness. Does this mean I can take you out for dinner now?”

You giggle. “Yes, you can.”

Kate clears her throat from behind the two of you. “Flowers?” she asks, reminding Jamie.

Jamie mentally smacks his head. “Right,” he says and takes the flowers from Kate. “These are for you.”

You smile at Jamie’s bashfulness and giggle. “Thank you, Jamie.” You take the flowers from Jamie and lean in to smell them. “They’re beautiful.”

“But not as much as you,” Jamie flirts.

“Okay, you flirt,” you laugh. “Ready to take me out?”

“I’ve been ready for a while,” Jamie says and extends his hand for you to take.

“Be good, you two!” Elizabeth calls out as you both walk out.

As Jamie leads you to the bus, he leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. “You look beautiful.”

You smile at him. “You told me that already.”

“I’m going to keep telling you that for the rest of my life.”

“Thinking about forever already?” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I do plan on marrying you,” Jamie tells you.

“I could be okay with that,” you tell him with a smile. Yeah, you wouldn’t mind marrying Jamie and spending the rest of your life with him.

Present Day

“That’s beautiful,” Alissa says.

“Did you really know you were going to marry grandma?” Clara asks her grandfather excitedly.

Jamie looks at you with a smile. “I did know that I was going to marry grandma. I knew she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I knew that I was going to marry her the minute I met her.”

“You did?” Sawyer asks.

“I did,” Jamie reiterates. “My life is split into two -- before I met her and after I met her.”

“Which one’s better?” Clara asks excitedly.

“After I met her,” Jamie answers. He puts his hand in yours and looks at you with the most loving eyes. “Every day, I’m living my dream. I love you, Yn.”

You smile at your husband. “I love you, too, Jamie.”

Jamie gets up from his chair and walks over to you. He bends down and groans slightly at his back pains that have come from old age. He kisses you softly. The love in the kiss hasn’t wavered since day one; it’s only grown. You never once doubted his love for you, and he never doubted yours.

Meeting after docking in England (or maybe on that ship, depends on who’s telling the story) was what set your life in motion. You could never imagine a life without Jamie. After all these years, the love you have? It’s in the memories that you’ve shared and will continue to create.

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @boqvistsbabe @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @tysonsjosty @barzysandmarnersbitch @ollywahlygator @leafs-forever @laurenairay @no-pucks-given @sixmapleleafs @davopuck @thebestoffanfiction @islesnucks (Join my taglist here!)

#Jamie oleksiak #Jamie oleksiak imagine #Jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak x reader #nhl fic #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars x reader #claudia writes

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alwaysgurl43 · 3 years

Text

Her Missing Partner

Word Count: 1564

Warnings: None that I can think of

Author’s Note: This is a #Beckettines21 gift for @caskettinlove. I tried to incorporate some of the things you love into it and this fits in to the timeline right before 4x22 (Originally it was going to split into the episode but my muse did not work that way. I did rewatch the episode just for you though:D) Enjoy!

Coffee had always been their special thing. Even when nothing in the day went right or their case was nothing but dead ends- they always had coffee. Usually Castle was the one bringing it to her, but sometimes she returned the favor. But something about this case- the case of her missing partner- adding with the lack of caffeine that was making it where she couldn’t figure out the missing piece. She couldn’t come to terms with the missing piece. Or maybe she just didn’t want to come to terms with it.

Castle is the missing piece. Even when they don’t have active cases, he’s usually here trying to throw out anything to drive her crazy. But he hasn’t been here in almost twenty four hours. Kate’s eyebrows pull together as she stares at the murder board, filled with the information from the case they closed yesterday. Castle should be here. He always has a place to fit here like a missing puzzle piece fits into a puzzle, but it almost feels like he doesn’t want his place any longer. There’s something that is pushing him farther away, and the only thing that would make sense can’t possibly be true. The only thing she could think is pushing him away would be if he found out that she remembers, that she lied. But how could he?

“No Castle?” Espo’s voice cuts into her thoughts. While she might be missing hers, his partner is by his side.

“Uh, I haven’t heard from him today. But where are you at with finishing up the write up?”

“Maybe don’t make him make the first step.” Ryan throws out, ignoring her question.

“What do you mean?”

“Phones work both directions.” Espo tacks on before the two head off towards their own projects.

She knows the boys are right. She should reach out to Castle. Finding out what’s going through his mind, why he’s running from her, how to fix everything. Maybe, coffee can help with this too.

Standing outside his door, cups in hand, she realizes the thing she didn’t think about. How is she going to knock on the door with two cups of coffee? Moving from foot to foot, she finally stacks the cups on top of each other so she has a hand to knock. On the other side, she can heard noises, so someone is definitely home, she’s just not sure who will answer the door.

“Ka-Beckett? What are you doing here?”

“Thought my partner could use a caffeine boost. I figured you had to be writing.” She holds the cup out to him and could almost laugh at their accidentally twinning. The navy of his button down matches hers. Her jeans could literally be cut from the same cloth as his, apart from how skinny hers are. “Great minds.” She mentions, motioning towards their clothing.

“Yeah, something like that. Did I forget I had to be somewhere? I usually only get home visits if I did.”

“No. I mean not technically. We haven’t seen you in…” Kate trails off, not wanting to admit her tracking of how long it’s been since she saw him. “I thought I should check in on you.”

“I’m fine. Just busy. I have a life outside the 12th remember?” The words are harsh and unforgiving as they leave his lips. His eyes have gone icy instead of the ocean warmth she normally feels.

“What did I do, Castle?” She wants to fix this. She wants to make everything better so that she can have him back, her partner, her… her Castle.

“Why does everything have to be about you, Kate?” He counters harshly.

“If it wasn’t about me, why are you so angry with me?” Kate can’t stop the hand that comes to rest on her hip. “If you need to yell, yell at me. But please don’t shut me out Castle.”

“Isn’t that how you prefer things to be done though? It wasn’t me that hid away for months. I leave you be for not even two days and suddenly you’re knocking down my door, making demands?”

“Because this isn’t you. You’re the dependable one. You’re the one I know that I can turn to when I need someone to bounce ideas off of or find a crazy theory that just might fit a case. You’re not the one who goes running. That’s me. I run, but I’m trying to get better. Trying to make it where we no longer don’t talk about the things that matter.”

“You’re actually wanting to talk about things now? Did you ever think it might be too late for that?”

“I’m hoping it’s not. Because someone taught me that hope is a powerful thing. And I have a lot of it now. So whatever I did, talk to me Castle, because I can’t figure it out.”

Finally, Castle can’t keep it in anymore. “It’s what you didn’t do.” The words slip out on one breath. “Why couldn’t you just tell me? You lied to me for months instead of just telling me and letting me off easily.”

“Let you off easily? Castle, what are you talking about?” He knows she lied. But how he figured it out and when, she has no idea.

“Just because I feel a certain way didn’t mean that you had to. That wasn’t why I told you. I told you how I felt because I couldn’t live without you knowing. Especially when…” He trails off before starting a new thought. “But no one said you had to feel the same way. I get it- I’m frustrating and childish and there are times when I don’t know where the line is drawn. But even with all of that, I don’t think I deserved being lied to. You could have just told me Kate. I could have dealt with you not feeling the same way. But lying to me, for months? What kind of a partner- no what kind of a person does that?”

Kate can only focus on one part of what he said. “You think I lied to you because I don’t feel the same way?”

Castle seems to ignore this question. “You shut me out. It’s so common at this point it didn’t even surprise me. When things are hard, you run from it. But, if you had just told me, I would have gotten out of your hair.” Castle tacks on, running a hand through his own.

“That’s the last thing I ever wanted Castle.”

“What do you want then? Because I’ve tried looking at this from every angle and there’s none that make any sense. If you don’t feel the same, why keep me around?”

“No one said I don’t feel the same Castle.” Kate pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, no one but you.” A rarity happens with that statement, the writer lost for words.

“I-you-what?”

“No one said I don’t feel the same way except for you.” Kate repeats the sentiment. Maybe it will click with him that she does feel the same, she just didn’t know how to bring it up after all this time had passed.

“If that were the case, why did you lie?” Castle doesn’t seem to be letting this get his hopes up. He’s been dealing with this for the past few weeks. He’d already accepted that Kate would never be with him. So why now? Why say this?

“The same reason I built a wall. If I let people get close it risks them getting hurt and I couldn’t risk that, not with you Rick. I learned over time that if I was strong on my own, that others wouldn’t-couldn’t worm their way in to break me. It was easier.”

“It sounds lonelier.”

“Maybe. But I lost someone I loved when I was young. I didn’t want to risk that kind of hurt again. You said it yourself. I hide in relationships with men I don’t love. It’s easier than risking everything and losing it all.”

“So hiding, running, all of that is to stop your heart from getting hurt?” Castle prompts. Kate nods slowly, before taking a long sip of the latte that will always remind her of Castle.

“That’s what Dr. Burke says I’ve been doing too. What he’s been trying to get me to not do anymore I guess.”

“Dr. Burke?”

“My therapist. He’s been helping me for a while.”

“I didn’t know you were in therapy.”

“I didn’t want to make excuses anymore. I wanted to be able to face everything that happened that day and no longer run from it.”

“And are you there?”

“Almost. And that wall I was telling you about, I think it’s almost all the way down. I’d like my partner to be there when it comes down.”

“I’d like to be there too.” Castle admits.

“So will you come back? To the 12th? The boys miss you.”

“I think I can. If the boys are missing me after all. Can’t let them down.”

“Can’t let the boys down.” Kate repeats his sentence.

“Or my partner.” Rick says reaching for Kate’s hand. They don’t usually have big touchy feely moments, but in the small moments of being able to hold her hand or hold her close, he’ll take all of it. Kate smiles up at him as she gently squeezes his hand back.

#Castle #caskett #rick castle #castle season 4 #Kate Beckett #richard castle #katherine beckett #castle fan fic #castle fan fiction #castle fanfic #castle fanfiction #caskett fanfiction #caskett fanfic #caskett fan fic #caskett fan fiction #Her missing partner #alwaysgurl43 #beckettines21

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chingonaclaws · 3 years

Photo

“My dad told me recently to mind my manners -- wait no. My temper... maybe my manners too -- too bad I take after my mother...” ( feat. @rcalmxnstcrs, @amvses & @theimpalpable. ) 🏒

#✗ verse: ( hockey au ) what’s so fucking funny gigglybits?#✗ verse: ( rcalmxnstcrs ╱ clawsdad ) what’s so fucking funny gigglybits? ( hockey au. )#✗ verse: ( rcalmxnstcrs ╱ amvses ) what’s so fucking funny gigglybits? ( hockey au. )#✗ dinámico. ╱ you don’t have to fight anymore. ( logan aka amvses y laura. )#✗ dinámico. ╱ kate y laura.#✗ dinámico. ╱ where you lead i will follow. ( kate y laura. )#✗ KATE. ╱ if you’re going to throw your life away he’d better have a motorcycle.#✗ SAMUEL. ╱ think how dull your life would be without me.#✗ dinámico. ╱ samuel y laura.#✗ dinámico. ╱ i’ll be the dangerous ledge. you be my parachute. ( samuel y laura. )#✗ 010 ╱ hockey au aesthetic.#✗ 015 ╱ i’m on YOUR fucking team! ( hockey au moodboard. )#( & my edits. )

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plotting-against-you · 3 years

Text

Will It Ever Be the Same (Part 1)

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew, Ace, Bess Marvin, George Fan, Ned 'Nick' Nickerson

Prompt(s): This is based on two prompts. One of those prompts is from Alicia, who asked: "Could you do one where Nancy is 13 instead, has blonde hair like Lucy, and blue eyes like Ryan? She goes to his place like in 1x17 to get help for the ritual and on the way out she gets dizzy because she's been working herself to exhaustion. In that moment Ryan notices how similar she looks to Lucy and himself but decides not to say anything but also knows Nancy is his. She eventually tells him before doing the ritual. They go back to his place and he just says 'I know it's you'. She gets overwhelmed, almost passes out, and he just sits with her and tells her to rest."

This is also for @nancydrewcentral's week 2 hiatus prompt: Time Period AU.

Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, mentions of anxiety and coping mechanisms, mentions of character deaths (past and present), mentions of suicide

Nancy wrapped her arms around herself as she bent over, heaving shallow breaths into the air. The sky grew lighter now, as she’d been running for most of the night, and she found herself unsure what to do or where to go next.

“You’re DNA wasn’t a match for the female hair.”

“It’s a mother-daughter match for Lucy Sable.”

“She’s me. The baby is me.”

She couldn’t believe the information she had just found out, and she wished she were older. She thought that if she were older, she might have had more experience in life to handle this sort of life-shattering revelation, but being only fourteen years old, all she felt was betrayal.

And heartbreak.

And panic.

So maybe she felt a lot of things, Nancy admitted to herself, but she felt she had the right to do so. Her whole life had been turned upside-down in a matter of a few hours, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.

She’d been told stories of how hard freshman year in high school could be, but she was positive her friends hadn’t meant this.

She saw headlights approaching and ducked behind a tree, holding her breath as they passed. Though she knew it could be dangerous for someone as young as her to be out alone all night, she was in no mood to face her father. Besides, it wasn’t like she was inexperienced.

She was Nancy Drew, after all.

Or was she?

She let herself plop onto her butt in the grass as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t face Carson—for calling him ‘Dad’ now was too hard—but she couldn’t stay out there for too much longer. She’d left her jacket as she climbed out her bedroom window and had started to shiver as soon as she had stopped running.

Her heart ached for the only woman she’d ever known as mother, Kate Drew, and her feelings were mixed there. She didn’t want to be bad at her…whatever she was to her now. Kate had died only a year earlier, and coming to terms with the fact that she’d lied to her hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Then she shivered again and realized she had to find somewhere to take shelter.

She could go to The Claw, she knew. She and her friends had picked up summer jobs working there for cash—under the table of course and no pun intended—and Dawn had always said they could go there whenever they needed. But her friends wouldn’t be there for a few hours yet, and Nancy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to explain her new parentage to them yet.

As the rush of memories from the night prior filled her head, she picked out one statement that kept replaying itself.

“Ryan Hudson is my biological father.”

She’d seen Ryan Hudson in many different ways over the last few months. For fourteen years, she’d known him as the rich, arrogant hill topper who only graced their town when it was convenient for him or his business dealings.

Then his wife had died during her shift at The Claw, and they’d all been thrown into what she thought would be the weirdest time in her life. Being a murder suspect at fourteen wasn’t what any of her friends had expected for their lives, but it had happened. It was while she was trying to solve that case that she started to see a different side to the man.

Then she’d found out everything regarding his painful loss of Lucy Sable, and her heart broke for him.

Though she’d wanted to help him and Lucy’s ghost in some way, she was forced to put her feelings on pause as even crazier things came to pass—it would be just their luck to call to a sea spirit that wanted them dead—and she’d had to change her list of priorities.

Now all she could think about was how she knew the difficulty in trying to reconcile something in your brain that you had no control over and no knowledge of, no matter how hard you tried.

Standing from her spot in the damp grass, she took a deep breath and started walking again.

This time she knew exactly where she was going.

…

Her phone rang just as she was approaching Ryan’s house.

Groaning as she assumed it was her…Carson, again, she lifted it to hang up but stopped when she saw that it was Ace instead.

He’d been at The Claw with her the night before when she’d read the DNA match on John Sanders’ laptop. So far, he was the only one to know her secret outside of herself and Carson, and she’d only let him stay because he refused to leave her side.

Though he was usually more ‘chill’ than that, he could be a very protective boyfriend when he wanted to be.

She knew that he would be worried about her, especially considering he knew her better than anyone else in her life. So, deciding it would be a good idea to at least tell him she was alive and not eaten by a bear or killed by the Aglaeca, she answered and lifted it to her ear.

“Ace.” She breathed his name out like he was the life raft she needed to save her from drowning.

“Nancy.” She could hear the concern in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Your dad called my parents and said that you ran away.”

She bit her lip. “Carson told me the truth after I confronted him.”

“Oh, Nance…” He used her nickname, and it squeezed at her heart.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Her voice was thick with tears as she felt them rush to her eyes. “I can’t be around him right now.”

Ace’s voice was soft as if he were calming a scared animal. “You could have come to me.”

She shook her head, though she knew rationally that he couldn’t see her. She had the brief thought that maybe he had hacked a satellite and could possibly see her. When they’d started dating, he promised he would do anything he could to keep her happy and safe.

“I’m sorry. If I had come there, your parents would have told Carson, and I just….”

“I get it.” His voice was equal parts comforting and protective. “Just tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffed.

“Good. Because I know you’re dealing with a lot, but uh, George’s mom says the Aglaeca’s coming after us.” He said it quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.

This stopped her in her tracks, and she paid no mind to the fact that she stood on the side of a dangerously curved road in the middle of nowhere.

In her silence, he continued. “Nick, Bess, George…we’ve all gotten these really weird visions. Portents. Have you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “I vomited up a seaweed wreath yesterday morning.”

“I would say that qualifies.” He said lightly.

“When I went to look for it later, it had turned to sand. Are you saying the Aglaeca did that?” She hadn’t believed in the supernatural before Tiffany Hudson’s murder, but she wholeheartedly believed in it now.

“Yeah.” Ace hesitated. “Apparently, it’s like a bloodhound. And because the Aglaeca responded to your call for Lucy’s bones, you’re acting as its gateway.”

“What, Ace? What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy knew her boyfriend well, and he was holding something back from her.

“Uh…well, that also means you’re the one that’s capable of stopping it.”

“You don’t sound hopeful about that.” Her heart lurched in sudden anxiety. “Do you not trust me to do it?”

“No!” He said quickly before correcting himself. “I mean, yes. Obviously, I trust you. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Well, George’s mom says that you can throw it off your trail by mixing your blood with somebody else’s. Disguising yourself so that, you know, the curse can’t find you, because if it can’t find you, it can’t find any of us.

“Uh, but…the ritual has to be done with a relative. Your blood relative.”

There was the catch and the reason for his earlier hesitation. “Well, that’s a problem, because…you saw the test results last night. My closest relative is not my blood relative.”

“But Ryan Hudson is.” He sighed again. “Listen, I know that poses certain challenges, and don’t worry. You know your secret is safe with me. But…”

“I, uh…” She started walking again and let the gears in her head turn. “I think I have a plan.”

“Nancy, babe, what are you going to do?” His voice held concern again, but also admiration.

He constantly made sure she knew how in awe he was at her detective skills and her ability to make the best of even the worst situations.

“I’ll meet you guys at Bess’ aunt’s party, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me the plan?” Ace was quick with his words, knowing full well that she could hang up at any moment.

“I have to talk to my father.”

…

Ryan crouched on the ground, frozen in place as he looked at the papers scattered in front of him. He’d been up nearly all night searching for any clue as to why Lucy hadn’t talked to him before taking her own life.

Then he’d picked up on the clues she’d written in her journal, and his mind had stopped.

Stroking his finger over Lucy’s baby picture he’d found in her yearbook, he allowed his mind to wander to every what-if scenario that came at him

What if Lucy had been pregnant? Were either of them ready to be parents at eighteen?

What if she’d told him about the baby? Would it have made a difference?

What if she’d lived? Could they have raised their baby together?

What if his parents found out? Is that why they threatened her?

Ryan was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door opening and whipped his head up to make sure it wasn’t either of the elder Hudsons coming in. He couldn’t have them knowing what he knew—they could react any number of ways. If he did have a child out there, he didn’t want them anywhere near his parents.

Then he caught sight of Nancy and sighed. “What, did you break-in? Figured you and your dad would be celebrating by now.”

Nancy remembered how Ryan had thanked them after the hearing had adjourned. He’d been upset by everything that happened but also grateful that they’d found out the truth of what happened with Lucy.

She felt horrible for having to go back on those things and hurt him again.

She wondered how she was supposed to once again break the heart of this man who had been through so much. He was only thirty-two and had lost the love of his life and his wife. Now, after twenty-four hours of thinking he knew exactly what had happened, Nancy was supposed to add more to his plate? It was causing her heart rate to spike, and she knew a panic attack was coming.

She saw the hopeful look in his eye and couldn’t do it. She wasn’t going to be the one to deal another blow to his fragile mental health.

“I need your help.”

“Uh, sorry, I can’t today. I have to get over to the free clinic in Trenton.” He was still crouched on the ground as he spoke.

Her face scrunched in confusion, and something shifted in his brain that he couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t you have rich people health insurance?” She questioned him as she moved over to the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her teenage sarcasm. “It’s not for me, okay? I’m trying to get answers on Lucy. The court clerk gave me a copy of her journal.”

Her already accelerated heart rate sped up as she turned to him. “Why?”

“Why?” He sounded appalled by the question and stood. “Because my dad threatened her! I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being physically violent. I didn’t see anything in her journal about that, but I did find some other helpful things.”

Every time he spoke, he made her anxiety worse, not that he was aware of it. “Like what?”

“I mean, you’re still young, so I don’t want to read some of it to you, but in early spring of 2000, she was writing stuff that makes me think….” He trailed off, unsure if he should tell her what he found.

She was only fourteen, after all. He didn’t know what she knew or if she was even comfortable with the subject.

“Go on.” She looked at the back of the papers in his hand, not being able to meet his eye. “I’m not a child.”

Ryan sighed. “I think she might have been pregnant.”

Nancy fought to keep the gray from edging into her eyesight as she swallowed down the rising panic within her. She knew if she didn’t give into the feelings soon, or at least do some techniques that she’d been taught, she’d pass out or worse. But she didn’t want to give away her secret to him just yet—if ever—so she shook her head.

“And you think the baby was yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course, it would have been mine! Lucy and I were…dating…around New Year’s, and so yeah. Mine.”

“You mean you were sleeping together around then.” She corrected for him and rolled her eyes at the shocked and slightly horrified look on his face. “Oh, stop that. I’m in high school now. I know these things.”

Then she caught the new look on his face and froze. He no longer looked shocked or horrified by her words but stared at her as if he was looking right through her. She felt her throat tighten and took a step back.

Ryan stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Whatever had shifted in his head minutes earlier when she’d scrunched her face had returned the moment she rolled her eyes at him, and all the puzzle pieces had come together.

Both of those faces were exact replicas of his and Lucy’s expressions respectfully, and suddenly he was seeing what he hadn’t through their entire “working” relationship.

Besides the fact that Lucy had been haunting both of them, the young detective had told him she was allergic to wasps’ stings, and so was he. In addition to that, he remembered seeing her bite her lip when she was nervous, a trait that Lucy had right up until the day she died.

Then there were her looks. Her blonde hair may have been turning redder every day, but it was undoubtedly Lucy’s, as were her blue eyes his. She was the perfect combination of them, and he knew the truth in his heart.

Lucy had been pregnant. And Nancy was their daughter.

Then his surroundings came back to him, and he saw how she looked at that moment.

Her usually snarky yet confident expression had turned to fear, eyes wide and pale skin merging together to make her look gaunt. Ryan saw her throat moving quickly and knew she was trying to either swallow down tears or suck in air. Her hand, which now gripped the papers he’d handed her, shook enough to be visible, and she looked utterly exhausted.

He knew a panic attack when he saw one and knew that she also knew the truth.

Not wanting to push her, he told himself he wouldn’t bring it up to her. But, still, he had to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hospitalized because she was panicking over this added thing in her life.

“Nancy?” He kept his voice even, though he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay?”

As he said the words in the same way Ace had said earlier, she told her brain that it was her boyfriend’s voice she was hearing and forced herself to relax. “I…”

“Can I get you some water?” Ryan moved away from her, walking to the sink. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I, uh…didn’t get any sleep last night.” She forced herself to take some deep breaths while his back was turned and felt a bit more stable when he brought her the glass. “Counteroffer…I’ll help you find out if Lucy was pregnant if you do me a favor after.”

He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized, even if it meant doing her favors or playing along with something she clearly didn’t know he knew. “Deal. Do you need to call your dad?”

He saw the way she cringed at the word ‘dad’ and confirmed his theory that she wasn’t doing as well with the news as he was.

“Uh, nope. I’m good. He’s probably at work anyway.”

He didn’t call her out on the lie, instead holding the front door open to follow her to his car. He’d find out more about that situation later.

…

She’d lied to him. She’d looked him right in the face and lied to him.

They’d taken the trip to Trenton, and acting like a spoiled, entitled rich guy had made Ryan realize just how shitty of a person he probably was in everyone’s eyes. After Nancy had insisted on speaking to the doctor herself, he stood in the waiting room and thought about it.

He knew that he was different from everyone else in Horseshoe Bay, but until he was pretending to threaten to shut down the clinic, he had never realized how those people might see him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that you had been an asshole for thirty-two years of your life, but Ryan had decided at that moment there wouldn’t be another.

He was going to change for Nancy, even if she never knew it was for her. He never wanted to see the look on her face as he had when she’d shut him up or told him a flat-out lie after leaving the clinic.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, he thought about the story she’d spun for him, telling him that Lucy had been pregnant but had died with her child still inside her womb. He had done the math and had figured out that Nancy had been born weeks earlier than her due date, and she must have too.

Her knowledge of life and her ability to spin a tale baffled him.

“So, are you going to like…tell me why we’re going to Diana Marvin’s house?” He questioned, not wanting to sit in silence any more than they had.

Nancy huffed. “It’s Bess and her cousin Owen’s house, too.”

Owen Marvin was quite unlike the rest of his family. Being their age and having so few family members that were, he sometimes joined Bess at The Claw during her shift to hang out with their group. Of course, they all knew that he primarily came to flirt with Nancy but had been sweet enough to stop once her relationship with Ace had come out.

“I know, but still. You know that I’m like persona non grata, so you want to tell me what this favor is or what?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Can I ask you something?” Nancy had shifted her head lazily on the headrest so that she could look at him.

She still looked slightly pale, something the doctor had also noticed when they walked in, but her breathing seemed to be better, and she looked less like crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

She opened and closed her mouth only once before speaking. “What would it have meant, if-if you’d had the…the baby? Do you think you were ready to be a dad at eighteen?”

He should have known this question was coming. Even so, he answered honestly as he figured she’d be able to tell if he was lying. Besides, she looked too vulnerable as she stared at him.

“At eighteen? No…” He chuckled slightly. “No, hell no. A kid like me, I was dumb and spoiled, and I had horrible parental role models, as you know, so no. That would have been a disaster.”

He thought of his parents again and internally cringed, promising himself he’d do everything in his power to keep them away from Nancy.

“Do you think…do you think that you would have tried to…?” He saw her tuck a strand of hair out of the corner of his eye before she froze and started pulling at her hair. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced at her now, then nearly hit the breaks as she started choking. “Hey. Hey, h-hold on.”

He swerved dangerously to the side of the road and brought the car to a park. Nancy was throwing herself out of the car the second they were stopped, and he followed her actions, panic welling up inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack again, but it looked different than it had before back at his house. When he finally got around to her side of the car, she was breathing again. He reached her side the second she slammed the door shut and watched in confusion as she stared at her reflection in the tinted windows.

“Hey, what…what, are you having a panic attack?” He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but it scared him.

Then he saw her look at her hand and the pile of sand that sat in it that had definitely not been there a moment prior. “No, no, uh…it was a portent.”

“A portent?” How did she even know what that word meant? He sure didn’t at fourteen. “What, you mean from Lucy?”

“No. From something completely different.” She looked scared now, but differently from before.

This had nothing to do with their familial relationship, and that seemed to worry him even more. He wondered if her whole life would worry him, as she seemed always to be ingrained in some dangerous happenstance.

“This is the favor that I had to ask you, actually.” She sounded upset, tears threatening to fall. “A few days ago, I did something unusual to get the evidence to exonerate my…to exonerate Carson. Uh, my friends and I did this ritual to call to this sea spirit.”

He was completely confused but tried to keep up. “Sea spirit. Like…like dolphins?”

She shook her head as she sat on the ledge overlooking the sea. “Stay with me. It’s a local legend. Uh, and it worked. The Aglaeca answered my call. But the problem is…is I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

“The…the Aglaeca wanted Owen Marvin’s blood. All of it. So we couldn’t go through with it, and now we triggered this, uh, curse, and I have to fix it. And in order to do that, I need to do another ritual to make sure that the spirit doesn’t lock onto its target, and…and that’s where you come in.”

She hated having to get someone else involved, but she was desperate for anything that might save the lives of her and her friends.

Though he wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisk her away to be somewhere safe from all this nonsense, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d seen enough of Lucy’s ghost to know that supernatural creatures existed, and if his daughter was tangled up with one, he couldn’t let her down.

“Why me?” He was genuinely curious and hoped it didn’t come off as a refusal. “I mean, unless this Aglaeca takes cash, then I’m….”

“It’s not about your money this time, Ryan.” She snapped at him now, and he could see the panic setting back in. “It’s about you specifically, because….”

He froze, watching her face carefully, and wondered if this was the moment she would reveal that she knew she was his daughter.

Then he watched as she hesitated and shook her head. “It’s a long story, uh, and one of which you don’t need to know all the details. But if you just come with me….”

He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no, of course. I mean, it sounds urgent.”

They stared at each other for a second, and he watched as Nancy tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. He felt his resolve breaking before taking a deep breath and deciding to take a leap of faith.

“Do you need me because I’m your father?”

Part 2

#cw nancy drew #nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew #ndcentral #nancy x ace #nancy drew & ryan hudson #younger nancy drew #teenage nancy drew au #time period au #part 1

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considermewhelmed · 3 years

Text

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths- Tim Drake

TW: attempted su*c*de/su*c*dal thoughts, anxiety, depression.

a/n: hey remember in the Master when I said these would be short fics? Ha. Yeah. Me too. Good times.

Tag list: @river9noble

Master

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down/Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?/You’re scaring us and all of us/Some of us love you/Achilles it’s not much but there’s proof.”

“You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It’s all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste yourself on this roof/Hear those bells ring deep in the soul/Chiming away for a moment/Feel your breath course frankly below/And see life as a worthy opponent.”

Tim stood on the edge of the building, overlooking the city. His cape billowed lightly in the cool air, and he took a deep breath.

‘Red Robin, report.’ Barbra’s voice asked in his ear.

Tim remained silent, his eyes scanning the streets, but his mind far away.

‘Red Robin, report.’ She repeated.

‘Red Robin, are you okay?’

A new voice broke onto the comms.

Dick.

He had been thinking a lot. About Dick. And Damian. Bruce. Steph. Babs. Duke. Luke. Cass. Kate even. There were just… so many of them. So many. One less surely wouldn’t matter?

He imagined he wouldn’t get a huge memorial like the one for Jason in the batcave- he was choosing this, he did it himself, there was no honour in that. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t sure he even cared to be remembered.

They barely remembered him alive, why would death help?

He wondered how long it would take them to forget him. The voice is the first thing you forget about a person, when was the last time he talked to them all?

‘Red Robin, where are you?’ Dick.

‘Is his comm offline?’ Steph.

‘No, it’s online. It should be working. Receiver and all.’ Barbra.

‘Red Robin?’ Dick.

He looked down. He’d survived some pretty unlikely things, but this was too much. Too high. There was no way his heart could take his fall, let alone the pavement below waiting for his body. It called his name, whispering the promises of sweet relief with every breeze, the streetlight spotlight marking his entrance to his final bow.

‘Can you get his tracker online?’ Dick.

‘Red Robin, come in.’ Bruce.

‘No. He’s bypassed the security.’ Barbra.

‘Really Drake?’ Damian. ‘Sneaking off during patrol?’

‘Red Robin, report.’ Bruce- and Tim imagined he sounded worried in the way only Batman could be.

‘Where was his route?’ Dick.

Tim tuned them out, but couldn’t bring himself to turn the comms off completely. He didn’t have the heart to be alone- he was selfish and desperate.

He shrugged off the cape, letting it fall to the rooftop, and quietly unclipped his utility belt. He wished he felt scared, or sad, or anything, but instead he just felt numb. Human instinct should be trying to get him back safely to the solid roof behind him, but instead he just swayed in the wind, as if even his own body was impartial to the decision.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, rolling his shoulders back, resigning to his fate. There was no use in fighting anymore.

That was it. He felt something. Tired.

Not just tired. Exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that made even sleeping a chore. Tears gathered in his eyes, and with each drop his mask got looser and looser. He thought of something to say- some sort of goodbye. Not for them, but for him, for closure. His own eulogy. Last words, maybe?

Did he deserve last words when the villain he lost to was his own mind? Internal, eternal, and inevitable? It was a dance he’d been a part of for far too long and he was just tired.

“Hey Replacement.”

Tim expected his whole body to go rigid, for his instinct to take over, for any kind of fight to bubble up inside him, itching to get out. He and Jason reconciled, sure, but sometimes when he caught him off guard, Tim still had the same knee-jerk reaction.

Instead, his body just stood there, open and unarmed. It solidified his resolve- even his instincts knew it was over. The idea that Jason could easily shoot him, or push him off the roof didn’t scare him.

Why would it?

He could hear Jason’s quiet, heavy steps as the older boy approached.

‘Red Hood, status, have you found him?’

Dick’s voice came over the comms.

Tim didn’t look at Jason. There was a soft click.

“No, not yet. I’ll keep looking. Just cover my area Dickhead.” Jason said before the soft click happened again.

The two boys were quiet for a minute.

Behind him, Tim could hear the familiar whirring of the mechanics- mechanics he helped design -that indicated the removal of Jason’s Red Hood helmet. A thump after indicated Jason had opted to ditch it on the roof.

Normally, Tim would yell at him for being so careless with his equipment, especially since Tim worked hard on the last updates, but he couldn’t even find his voice.

He heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground, and Jason stepped closer.

“Come on Timmy,” Jason said softly, and Tim’s chest tightened at the nickname. “You’re shaking. You gotta be freezing.”

It wasn’t until Jason said something that Tim realized he was vibrating. Even the air was unforgiving in Gotham, and somewhere between his decision to step on the ledge and the loss of his cape, it turned into an icy grip that cut through the thin material of his suit.

The wind stung his face where the tears had started to slip beneath his mask. His knees buckled and he sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can’t.” He choked out, his hand gripping at his chest. “I- I can’t move.”

‘Red Robin?’ Dick’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Come on buddy, where are you, I’ll come get you.’

Tim couldn’t hear him over the roar of his own blood in his ears, and took his comm out of his ear, throwing it off to the side.

It was then he caught sight of Jason, and was shocked by the lack of not only helmet, but mask as well. Jason’s eyes had a green shine to them- a side effect of the pit -and they were trained on Tim.

Jason held out his hand to Tim. “Take my hand baby bird.” He murmured.

“No,” Tim cried. “I want- I should- I have to- I’m going to fall Jason-”

“No.” Jason said sternly. “No you won’t.”

Tim inched closer to the ledge. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters dipshit, you matter. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Tim’s lip trembled and a sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from under him and for a split second he was falling-

And the next he was wrapped in a tight hug.

Tim reached out instinctually and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, staying as close as possible to the smell of leather, gun polish and sweat, a surprisingly comforting combination.

Maybe it was just because it meant safety.

“I’ve got you baby bird,” Jason mumbled, and he could feel Jason bury his nose in Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered through his tears. “I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry,” A whole new breakdown washed over him, and he couldn’t get a grip on his emotions.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jason scolded him lightly, and rubbed little circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

“I was going to do it,” Tim cried.

“I know.” Jason whispered.

“They hate me. They’re going to hate me more!” Tim whimpered. “I can’t- I don’t want-”

“I know.” Jason repeated. “But no one hates you, Tim,” He promised. “Hell, even Barbra threatened to get out here to find you.”

Tim buried his face in Jason’s chest and just stayed there. “I’m nothing more than a placeholder,” He mumbled. “I’m a pretender. A replacement.” He sniffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t even want to be Robin. God. I wanted Dick to be Robin. Batman needs Robin.” He was close to hysterics, and god Jason still didn’t know what to do.

“Maybe,” Jason agreed. “But Bruce Wayne needs Tim Drake.” Jason said quietly. “I’m pretty sure the old man would be lost without you Timmy.”

Tim shook his head and Jason snorted. “You set up the system in the batcave, make sure the Wayne business is intact and running smoothly, you’ve updated all the security, you always make sure there’s coffee in the manor, and no one makes him smile with bad jokes like you do.”

Tim stayed quiet, and Jason alternated between rubbing his back and running his hand through Tim’s hair. The boys stood there for as long as Tim needed to and Jason realized how small Tim was because Jesus Christ this was just a kid in a costume and he just wanted to be loved.

“Can we go back to the Manor?” Jason murmured. “My bike’s not far.”

Tim didn’t move.

“We can watch a movie?” He suggested. “I’ll let you pick.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Tim mumbled.

“Well… I could punch you instead if you’d like. Not sure that’ll make you feel better though.” He offered, and was rewarded by the smallest, quietest laugh. “C’mon, we can raid the kitchen.”

“You aren’t going to make me talk?” Tim asked.

Jason shook his head, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to baby bird.” He said softly. “But if you want to do that, I’m here for that too.”

Tim tightened his own grip and kept close- Jason was keeping him grounded and that’s all that mattered. “What was it like?” He whispered.

Jason was quiet for a long moment, and Tim regretted asking almost immediately.

“Long.” Jason decided. “Dark. Quiet.”

“Good quiet?”

“No.” Jason said softly. “Too quiet.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered.

“Me too,” Jason mumbled. “You’re not alone Timbo. I’m right here, alright?”

Tim nodded and pulled away after a moment when he felt like he could stand on his own. Jason collected their things and handed Tim his mask, cape and belt, putting his own mask and helmet back on, clipping his holsters on.

The ride back was quiet- Tim’s comm must have busted when it hit the roof, and if Jason heard anything he wasn’t giving it away. Jason came up with some half-assed lie about what happened to Barbra and the other Bats over the comms, and immediately claimed the living room for him and Tim, heading upstairs.

Tim was asleep by the end of the opening credits, tucked safely into the side of his big brother.

Maybe Tim couldn’t fight the villain in his head on his own, but having someone like Jason Todd on your side certainly made it easier.

#thebatfamplaylist #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #Robin #barbra gordon #oracle #sorry this is so sad

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

The Clandestine Queen (GT Story)

Premise: A trinket no taller than the pieces on a chessboard takes a champion player by surprise.

Another trinket short that is comparatively tamer than others, but intense in its own way ;) I binged The Queen's Gambit, and it inspired me to write a GT story involving chess. I had a lot of fun writing this one! Enjoy! :D

Warning: mentions of dehumanization The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie / @marydublin5 <3

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The wheels rolled smoothly along the carpet. She sat on her knees in a prim posture, her hands on her lap and her back straight. The glass walls around her were so polished, she could almost forget she was trapped. The steaming room-sized meal on the plate beside her kept her from forgetting entirely, though. With each door the waiter wheeled the cart past, she braced herself. He didn’t come to a stop until the last door on the right—room 3218. A luxury suite.

The waiter knocked. “Room service!”

Footsteps thudded on the other side. The door swung open to reveal a man with dark hair, dark clothing, and an even darker look on his face. How curious for someone to look so inconvenienced by the arrival of a gourmet meal they ordered.

“Good evening, sir,” the waiter said.

“Make it quick,” the man muttered, stepping back to allow the cart to pass through the door.

This gave her a full view of the suite. The first and only thing she noticed was the chessboard set up by the window, illuminated by a single lamp and the moonlight glowing through the panes. This man was here for the tournament. No wonder he looked so irked by the interruption.

Her eyes went glassy. Trinkets were supposed to be anonymous once they went through the facility, stripped of their past identities before they were sent out to whatever random bar, hotel, brothel, or business they were assigned. Since the beginning of the tournament that week, she had no doubt that her placement at this hotel was intentional, designed to taunt and torture her until she drew her last breath.

Tearing her eyes away from the chessboard, she looked up at the man as he spoke. She wondered if she had met him at some point, in her other life. He didn’t look familiar.

“I did not ask for a trinket,” the man said, barely looking at her. He had an accent that suggested Spanish or Portuguese as a first language. An international player.

“She’s complimentary, sir,” the waiter said. “A token of congratulations for your victories today.”

The man didn’t blink. “I don’t want her.”

“Would you like me to bring one that suits your preference?”

He sneered. “I am not interested in spending my night with a felon.”

The waiter cleared his throat. “Well, you can simply leave her in the case. Should you change your mind, your room key has a sensor to open it. Please ensure you place her back inside and shut it properly before leaving the room or setting the tray outside. Though, I can assure you our trinkets are well-behaved.”

The guests were less so. Twice now, she had been sampled by other people on the way to their rooms after she’d been sloppily left on the tray outside the door.

“Fine.” The man whisked the tray off the cart before the waiter could, setting it on the coffee table in front of a lounger. All the while, she held perfectly still and kept her eyes trained up at him, trying to figure out if she’d met him before.

“Have a lovely night, Mr. Soto,” the waiter said with a nod, pulling the cart out of the room. “And best of luck tomorrow.”

Soto. The name made her jaw clenched. Andres Soto. A 30-year-old champion from Argentina, visiting the U.S. for the first time. There was no way they could have met before, but they certainly would have crossed paths at some point, had things turned out differently.

She continued to stare at him as he grabbed the plate of food from beside her and took it over to the chess table, ignoring her entirely. Just when she thought that was the end of that, Andres returned to the tray.

Fear. She couldn’t stop it from coming, but she had long since learned what to do when it showed up. Even before she was a trinket. Imagine your spine turning to steel, Kate would tell her. And look your opponent in the eye.

She wet her lips and willed her spine to turn to steel, certain that he did intend on toying with her despite his disgust toward her. However, when his rattling steps paused in front of the coffee table, he merely reached down to grab the glass of red wine across the tray from her.

Again, he made it clear that she was beneath his notice.

“Is that a chessboard?” she blurted before he could walk away.

He turned back, his dark eyes locking on her. What a stupid thing to say. Why would she draw his attention when everything was in her favor? A night of being ignored was a blessing she could not have dreamed of, and here she was throwing it away. She could be like the poor trinkets that had been gathered downstairs in the dining hall, being used as game pieces by drunken tournament losers.

“Obvio,” Andres said simply, starting toward his board again.

“May I see?”

Another pause. Frustration mounted in his stance. He walked back to the coffee table with heavier steps. He loomed over her and stared down. She couldn’t be sure if he was purposely trying to intimidate her, or if it was a side-effect of him trying to figure her out. Chess players had a particular look about them, the way they tried to analyze the person before them. Which meant he viewed her at least somewhat like a person. Fascinating.

“I’m studying,” he growled out. Intimidation. No doubt. “I have no time to entertain you.”

“I’m not asking for entertainment,” she said. “Only to see the board.”

“You are bothersome.” He filled more of her vision as he bent down to pick up the tray. He started for the door. “Shall I toss you into the next room? Perhaps they will enjoy you more.”

“I want to play,” she informed him calmly. But on the inside, her heart felt like it was ripping to bloody pieces with each step that carried her away from the chessboard. She needed to see it.

Andres stopped in his tracks, making her waver in her seat only slightly. “You?” he asked skeptically.

“Me.” She shrugged and cocked her head at him. “Or I can help you study. You’re replaying today’s games, aren’t you? That’s what I’d be doing. I didn’t like it when they brought me trinkets, either.”

He lifted the tray higher and narrowed his eyes at her, his stare on the tipping point between intrigue and dangerous aggravation. “Who are you?”

“I’ve been told that my name is Queenie.”

He didn’t take the bait and ask for her real name. Some pathetic and silly part of her wanted to tell him herself without prompting. A talented player like him would recognize her name—for better or for worse. But she kept her mouth shut. For all she knew, he’d go on a power trip knowing he had a former chess champion at his mercy.

Setting the tray down, he swept up the case and carried it over to the chess table. He used the sensor on his room key to open the door for her. She stood slowly to accommodate the soreness of her knees, then stepped out onto the table. She admired the board with a fluttering heart, hiding a smile. It was a fancy one—the squares lit up where the pieces were put. Half the pieces were set aside, while the ones on the board were in active play.

Andres took a seat and picked at his food with a fork. “Here you see the twenty-second move from my last match this afternoon,” he told her. “I was black. It was her turn.”

Folding her hands behind her back, she strolled around the outside of the board, weaving around discarded pieces. She tried hard not to think about the fact that the king and queen were taller than her.

“You know,” she said. “There’s an app that can sync with this board. It allows you to record the moves of your previous games. It sets up the pieces for you, turn by turn.”

He scoffed. “You think I am not aware? I find that doing it the old-fashioned way is better. Keeps the mind sharp.”

“I agree.” She examined the placement of the pieces on the board and felt a tingle of familiar exhilaration, able to see different avenues of victory for Andres. He had his opponent cornered by this point. “How many moves left until you beat her?”

“Six, counting her next one.”

“Hm. You could have done it in three.”

He raised his eyebrows, more surprised by her impudence than annoyed. “Imposible,” he murmured in his mother tongue as he eyed the board to find what she meant. Then he shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

She gestured at the board. “May I?”

Waving his hand dismissively, he sat back and took a sip of wine. Against all odds, she was not garnishing a drink or plate tonight. For that moment, she was in the past—simply having a conversation with a rival, trying to outdo one another and pick each other’s brains. The illusion was lost when she had to actually climb onto the board. The squares lit up beneath her feet as she stepped on them.

“Let me guess,” she said. “She moved the bishop here?” The piece was only slightly shorter than her. Pushing it in a diagonal line, she gave Andres an expectant look.

“Good guess.”

Tapping her chin, she turned slowly to examine the slightly altered layout. In her mind’s eye, she could see the pieces moving and track the placement of each turn that created the five remaining moves leading to Andres’ victory. Without having to ask, she knew precisely what he and his opponent had done.

“May I show you how you could have put her away quicker?”

“Do it.” Andres watched in silence as she moved a black piece, then white, then black again.

“Checkmate,” she announced, planting one hand on her hip.

Andres set the wine glass down so hard, she thought it would shatter. He dropped his elbows on the table, rattling the board beneath her feet. Steepling his fingers, he scoured the board with his eyes and muttered to himself. Finally, his eyebrows quirked up again when he looked at her.

“Insightful. I will study this strategy.” He did not thank her, but then again, players rarely did under normal circumstances. She did sense a begrudging sense of gratitude lurking somewhere underneath, particularly when he spoke up again. “Let’s play.”

Not an offer. Not a suggestion. An order.

“I am yours tonight,” she told him just to see the faint disgust on his face at the reminder that he was spending the night with a felon.

Piss off your opponent when you can, Kate would say. Makes ‘em more likely to fuck up. Oh, and if you manage to stay classy while pissing 'em off? Honey, you're golden.

He gave her no time to move out of the way as he began to arrange the pieces into their starting positions. She was forced to stay in the middle of the board, lest he bump her with his quick movements. Although she tried to appear as calm as ever, there was a tightness to her mouth as his hands flew over her, fingers and chess pieces narrowly missing her head. Months ago, she arranged boards just as effortlessly. Now she needed both arms to move a single piece.

“Black or white?” she asked when he was finished.

“Your choice.” He plucked up a black and white pawn, one in each hand. His hands vanished under the table as he shuffled the two pieces out of her sight. Then he held his closed fists in front of her. She shuffled two steps back; he moved so quickly, she couldn’t be sure he would stop. “Choose,” he said when she stayed frozen for all of two seconds.

She pointed to his right hand, and he opened it to reveal the black piece. He placed it in front of her, and she slid it over to its spot.

And then the game began.

Andres made the first move, nudging a pawn from its place on the front line. The surreality of the situation almost left her breathless. It had been so long since she played, but all at once she felt herself fall back without a second thought, as if she hadn’t missed a single day. She was able to move the pieces on her own, up until she wanted to move a knight that was still nestled among the other pieces with no clear pathway out.

Just as she was considering carrying it around the outside of the board, a massive hand filled her vision. She flinched to the edge of the board and nearly fell off, staring up at Andres with wide eyes and a clenched jaw. He picked up the knight and weighed it in his hand.

“Where do you need it?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“F6,” she croaked.

The spike of fright did not derail the strategies that unfolded in her mind. The game went on. When she began taking some of his pieces, he did not hesitate to help her out, setting them aside without waiting for her to struggle or ask. He was just as focused as her, eager to keep the game flowing—all the more so as the game entered its thirtieth move.

She paced up and down the edge of the board, rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully. He was good. But she knew she was better. The problem was a stark disadvantage with her size.

“I need to see the whole board,” she realized aloud. “It’s frustrating to gauge it like this.”

Laser-focused on her plight, she didn’t see Andres’ hand coming. In the forty-five minutes they had been playing, she had gotten used to him plucking up pieces and avoiding her. A fresh thrill of fear closed around her heart as his fingers pinched her waist and swept her up. She gave a choked cry, her hands digging into the sides of his fingers as her legs dangled over empty air. She was perfectly accustomed to being held like this, but amid the game, she had forgotten the reality of her life.

“You said you wanted to see the board,” he said to her reaction, and she was surprised to hear the slightest note of apology.

She looked across at his face, the way his eyebrows were furrowed in faint concern. Wetting her lips, she swallowed hard and focused down at the board. Her breathing calmed as her world began to make sense again. She could see several pathways to victory for both of them—which meant she knew exactly how to thwart him.

“Thank you,” she said when she was done, squirming slightly in his pinched grip. He put her back down with more care than he did the pieces.

Three moves later, doubt began to creep in. Not doubt that she could beat him—doubt if she should. He was a champion. She used to be. Now she was nothing but a trinket—even less important than a pawn on a chessboard. Even if she was superior in commanding the game, he held all the power over her the moment it was over.

If he was a sore loser, he could quite literally kill her.

Pursing her lips, she analyzed the board and spotted a trap he was obviously setting up for her by using his last rook and bishop. A lesser player would fall for it easily. She took the bait, pretending to be sure of herself.

“Check,” he said upon his next move.

She moved her queen, protecting her king while sealing her doom. “Right back at you.”

A little smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. He took out her queen. “And that’s checkmate.”

Sighing, she tipped her king over with both hands. It clattered and rolled a short distance. “Guess I’m out of practice,” she said.

His accursed hand moved for her again, and for a second, she thought she had thrown the game for nothing. He was going to torment her anyway. A part of her was royally ticked off—she should have let herself beat his ass if things were going to end up like this anyway. But his hand stopped just short of her, finger extended.

“Good game,” he said. “Tough game.”

She released her caught breath, looking from his finger to his face and back again. She pressed her hand to his fingertip. “Tough game,” she agreed.

“It went on longer than any of the others I played this week.” He examined her once again. It was more overwhelming when he looked at her with a multitude of things other than disgust and detached interest. “Chess is clearly close to your heart. A shame this happened to you.” He gestured vaguely at her miniature stature.

She shrugged. “Chess saved my life. And then ended it.”

He nodded as if he had any clue what she meant by that. In a way, she supposed all serious players at least understood the first half.

Andres’ hands flew around her again as he began picking up pieces and setting them back into their starting positions. “Again?” he asked. And this time it was undoubtedly an offer.

She eyed the squares on the board, the white team forming in front of her in a whirlwind. There would never be another opportunity like this again. Despite all odds, she had returned to her haven of sixty-four squares. A distraction from the real world, just for tonight.

“Again,” she said, smiling for the first time at him.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The next night, she couldn’t decide if she was surprised to be requested back in the same room. She did not allow herself to win the night before. It was enough just to come close and know she could decimate Andres’ strategies if she wanted to. Perhaps he wanted another night of analyzing his games of the day.

One night of bliss was lucky. Two was unheard of.

Andres wasn’t any friendlier with the waiter tonight, and strangely, the moment the door shut, his hardened expression didn’t become any less guarded with her. He set the tray down and lifted the glass case before his eyes. Maybe he always needed time to thaw out.

“Congratulations,” she said, noting the gold trophy by the window. “You should be out celebrating.”

“I’m not the celebrating kind.”

She snorted. “I never would have guessed.”

The slightest smile touched his lips—obviously involuntary. His eyes did not move from her, seeking something. “When I finished my opponents early today, it gave me the time to think. And the time to replay our games from last night. You see, something was bothering me.”

Goosebumps rose along her arms, but she said nothing and kept her expression neutral.

“Anyone who plays an entire match like that would not fall for those endgame strategies so easily. Certainly not five times in a row.” He brought her closer to his face. There was nowhere to hide. He knew. He knew everything. “You threw the games. All of them.”

She played dumb. “A smart man like you should understand why a trinket in my position would do that.”

Scoffing, he reached into his pocket to pull out his room key. He opened the case, and rather than reach inside to grab her, he tilted it and made her slide out onto his palm. She couldn’t breathe for a second, scrambling to sit up and redeem what little dignity she could. Her heart thundered like a galloping horse as he carried her over to the chess table and gruffly dropped her on the middle of the board. When he took a seat, he leaned down and propped his chin on the backs of his fingers, putting himself nearly at eye level with her.

“I studied your moves,” he went on. “I researched female players with the same playing style.”

He knew.

Shuddering, she started to back away.

“I found someone who matched,” he said. “And she vanished from the chess world four months ago.”

“Andres…”

He straightened, touching the top of the queen piece on his side with his fingertip, toying with it. “Lorelei Weaver. The night after you came in second in the U.S. Championship, you were arrested for first-degree murder.

Her voice started to rise. "You don't understand—"

"You pushed the champion, Kate Miller, in front of a subway train in New York.”

“She was my friend!” she shrieked. “You don’t know shit! I was framed!”

He cocked his head. “Sentenced to be a trinket.”

She collapsed onto her knees and covered her face, shoulders wracking with sobs. She had not cried since she was human. For a moment, she was gone. All she could hear was the roar of the train. The screaming. Her own screaming. It echoed so loudly in her ears, she was surprised she wasn’t doing it in front of Andres. He said nothing, merely observed her as she cried herself out and gathered her bearings again.

“Louis Mclean came in third,” she went on in a thin voice, dropping her hands to her knees. “I humiliated him in the semi-finals. I beat him in less than ten moves because he was cocky. Just like that, in ten moves, all of his training was shot down and meaningless.” She swallowed hard, feeling tears brim up again. “Then Kate beat me. Oh, I was pissed. But she was my friend. And Mclean wasn’t done playing.”

She sniffled, flinching when Andres’ hand appeared beside her. He touched her shoulder with his fingertip, his expression unreadable as he regarded her.

“Go on,” he said.

“One, he invited us out to eat the next night. Two, he made sure we were standing in a blind spot while we waited for the subway. Three, he pushed her. Four, he jumped back while I tried to catch her. Five, he screamed that I killed her. In half the number of moves it took me to put him away in the semi-finals, he eliminated us both. Six moves, if you count him puking when he looked down at Kate’s blood on his clothes.”

Her words hung in the air like falling snow, until it settled.

Andres did not speak for a full minute. Then he gave a slow nod. “I see.”

She wiped her eyes. “You believe me?”

“Whether I believe you makes no difference, does it? That game is over.” He folded his arms on the table in front of the board, looking down the bridge of his nose at her. “But I vowed not to leave this place until I beat every worthy competitor. It would be an honor to play you again, Lorelei Weaver. And this time, don’t you dare go easy on me.”

She stood slowly, her body and mind still deciding whether to fall apart or put itself back together. Then she straightened her back, turned her spine to steel, and looked up to meet her opponent’s eyes.

“Black or white?”

#giant/tiny #gt #g/t #giant #tiny #gt writing #gt story #print universe #the clandestine queen #lorelei #andres #mywriting

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Hi, hope you're having a good day and can get some more rum and raisin! Love the Bridgerton and Sons Universe and the tag on this tumblr has helped while away lockdown so much!! Since you've posted so much about Kate and Anthony's life post getting together, I'm curious to know if you've ever thought about Anthony's POV during the first fic, what were his thoughts when he said That comment at the restaurant and in the alley way afterwards?

My day was okay! I took at a very odd shaped tooth which is always a lowkey thrill (My life is very exciting! Can you tell?)! I’m so glad this ridiculous habit of mine has made lockdown even a little easier for you! I have been portioning out my rum and raisin because I’m not in a hurry to do another hour round trip for it tbh!

Okay! Anthony during Insufferable Oh the poor boy was an absolute mess! He’d realised a few days prior to the start of our story that he was maybe, possibly, a little, absolutely hopelessly in love with Kate Sheffield and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Let’s give ourselves a little peep.

Anthony had been jumping out if his skin the entire evening. Every time Kate Sheffield glanced in his direction from the corner of her eye, his heart started pounding. He’d ducked out of work early this afternoon and spent close to two hours picking out a new sweater, the salesgirl at Harrods must have been absolutely thrilled to see the back of him, he’d then gone home and spent a ridiculous amount of time staring in the mirror before cursing himself It’s not a Date you dolt. She’s just going to be eating dinner at the same table as you. AND She doesn’t even know you’re coming. But still nerves had fluttered in his stomach the entire car ride, even as Eloise had gently needled him. And then he’d seen her across the small restaurant, her mouth open in surprise a something, her sister had said. The light was reflecting off the silverware in front of her, highlighting her face beautifully, and the butterflies in his stomach began to beat furiously. And then she’d spun towards him, her eyes flashing angrily, her voice commanding and he’d felt his cheeks grow a little warm as they always did when he heard her sharp tone. He’d settled into the chair next to Kate, Eloise had practically shoved him out of the way to take the chair next to Edwina, and he could feel her glaring at him, leaning in to whisper in her ear “No need to be jealous, Katie.” The nickname he’d heard Edwina use occasionally, just slipping from his lips as she’d made a jibe at his dubious dating history, which had been a little embellished in the papers,

“Don’t call me that!” Kate snapped her eyes flashing angrily again. Anthony cursed himself again. For Fuck’s sake Anthony. Can you at least try to act like a normal human being?! He’d hissed as Kate had sighed loudly beside him.

They’d actually been starting to get along. Kate had laughed at a story her sister told and Anthony’s heart had leapt to his throat at the sound. He’d accidentally spilled water on himself as he’d stared at her laughing. Eloise had smirked at him from the corner of her eye and he’d looked the other way as if nothing had happened. They were starting to have a good time, and then he’d gone and been an absolutely massive prick. He couldn’t even remember thinking the words, didn’t know what made him say them

“Come on Sheffield, maybe your sister doesn’t want to end up a shrew spinster like you.” He’d said them unthinkingly, almost as if he was in a hurry to get back to the back and forth between them. Back to safe ground. And then he’d seen her face. Hurt had flashed across her face momentarily, her eyes widening, shining suddenly, her mouth fallen open slightly. And his heart had just about broken in two. Not only to see the look on her face, but to know he was the one that put it there.

“Kate I-” He’d started, desperate to apologise to beg her forgiveness. But she was out of her seat with a choked “Excuse me.” before he could choke the words out himself. Eloise was staring at him with a mixture of disgust and exasperation. And Edwina Sheffield was looking at him with a sad, disappointed look on her face. Anthony felt guilt and shame wash over him. Edwina sighed softly and said

“I had better go and make sure she’s alright.” making to stand up. But Anthony was out of his chair before she could move. “Please, Edwina. Let me. I only want to apologise. It wasn’t my intention to upset her.” He’d said. Edwina’s eyes had widened in surprise at the urgency in his voice, and she’d nodded and sunk back into her seat. Anthony had taken a deep breath, anxiety gnawing at his stomach has he’d stepped onto the street, the cool air blowing softly around him as he looked down the street, searching for her.

And then he’d seen her, leaning against the side of the building, clearly choking back tears and it was all he could do not to throw himself at her feet. And then he’d apologised and she’d snapped at him again, clearly not ready to hear t, and honestly he couldn’t blame her. His words had been cruel, and so very very far from the truth. The opposite of what he wanted which was to hold tightly to her and never let go. He’d felt himself shrink inwards , unable to stand straight, the shame of his words pushing down on him. And then she’d turned away from him and all he could think was God, please don’t go.

He’d reached his hand out, catching her arm and tugging sharply. She spun back around bumping lightly against his chest, her eyes widening in surprise. And their gazes caught and god he couldn’t breathe. The streetlight was shining softly against her face, her intense eyes burning into his and he’d never see anything more beautiful in his entire life. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, her chest against his felt so right. Anthony was about to lean in, to show how just how much he truly didn’t hate her. and then someone knocked into him and the spell was broken. He stepped back, dropping her arm and tried to catch his breath. Kate was looking a little dazed as he said

“I’ll see you Monday, Kate.” He forced himself to turn away from her, not to push too hard, but he couldn’t resist one more tease “Not sure what you meant about being tricked though. I knew you’d be here.” and he walked through the door, with a tiny wink. Jesus Fucking Christ. He cursed at himself You are absolutely unhinged

#bridgerton and sons au #insufferable follow up #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #this really got away from me tbh #molly's asks and answers

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just-horrible-things · 3 years

Text

Story: Mina and Marten [First | Prev | Next]

---

Phone Call

"Mum!" Mina exclaims, making her voice just sunny with cheer. "Fancy hearing from you! What a nice surprise." "Yasmine, we need to talk." Well duh, thinks Mina, it's not like you'd call me just to catch up. "What would you like to talk about, Mummy dearest? I could tell you how my day is going, or you could ask about my love life, or--" "You know what," Mum interrupts. Mina sighs dramatically. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can only read minds over video call." "The boy." "You mean Marten? He has a name, Mum, although I suppose that would be a lot to ask since you can't even remember mine. I thought you didn't watch my 'brainless non-content'?" "Your Aunt Kate told me what 's going on."

"Oh, of course!" Mina giggles, high-pitched, aware of how the phone line will mangle the sound. "Auntie Katie hasn't talked to me in donkey's years so I'm sure she understands all the details of my life." "I've watched the videos. You have a human being, wearing a collar, living in your apartment and sleeping in a dog bed for Christ's sake."

Marten likes his bed, he said so. He said it's comfy. It's what the promotional videos show, it's what you're meant to do for a Boxie. Some YouTubers keep theirs in cages. What's she meant to do, have him sleep in her bed?

What she says is, "Everyone's doing it, Mum. Didn't you want me to make money? This is where the money is. Viewers just love Boxies!" "Stop using that tone with me, Yasmine. Just talk like a normal person." "That tone, Mummy? This is just what my voice is like! Maybe there's something wrong with the phone line, hold on a second." She blows into the microphone sharply.

Mum sighs dramatically. "Oh forget it. Don't you understand what you're doing?" "Boxies are perfectly legal, Mum. He signed a contract, I've seen it with my own eyes." "It's a thin veil over slavery! The corporations won't get away with it for long. The courts will come down hard on it, and then where will you be? Think about your reputation! You'll never get a real job if--" "I have a real job, Mum." "Legal or not, it's completely unethical. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!" Another too loud giggle. "Oh I'm sorry Mummy, whatever will I do without your support? How about continue how I have been for the last ten years! Goodness, I don't know if I'll cope."

"He's a human being, Yasmine!" "I know that!" Mina snaps. "I never asked for this! Did you actually watch anything or did you look at a thumbnail and decide that you know everything? I didn't want some... stranger, living in my room! I didn't want a human pet! Someone else sent him to me!"

There is a silence. Mina sniffles, and fakes a little sob. Mum hates it when she cries.

"Well," Mum says at last, sounding affronted. "Can't you send him back?" "What a great idea," Mina sighs. "I sure wish I'd thought of that." "You could you just... set him loose. Doesn't he deserve to be free?" Mina is absolutely sure that Mum has not watched any of the footage. Probably she just looked at the video titles. She tries to imagine Marten on his own. Where would he sleep? What would he eat? He had a panic attack when he tried to ride the elevator down two floors to the laundry room for goodness' sake.

"Boxies have to be supervised, Mum. He'd be breaking his contract, he'd get into trouble! Do you need me to Google the rules for you? I could copy it out in nice small words if you'd like that." "Well you can't keep him. He's a human being!" "Mummy dearest," Mina's voice is cracking with emotion and she leans into it, overacting. "I am an independent adult, and I make my own choices. You ran out of excuses to control my life years ago! If you wanted a say, maybe you should have been nicer to me while I still cared!" "Oh Yasmine, do stop going on. It has nothing to do with our relationship. This is much more important." "I'm not even important to you?" "This is a person's life." "I know that, Mummy dearest! What do you even want me to do?" Mum hesitates. Mina pounces on the opening. "I know, I'll just send him back to the factory he came from, I'm sure the corporations will take much better care of him than I can, won't that be just fantastic?" "Why can't you ever discuss anything like an adult?" "I can! I just choose not to when it's you!"

She hears her mother start on another barb as she takes the phone from her ear. Her nagging voice cuts off as Mina ends the call.

Sniffling, she pulls a kleenex from the box and dabs delicately at her tears. It comes away black with makeup, and she wonders how badly she is smudged. Oh well. It's not like Marten cares.

Marten.

"Oh sugar."

Marten sits in his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and over hands he has clamped over his mouth. He is shaking with silent sobs, staring horrified at Mina as if she might be about to murder him.

"Oh no, Marten!" Mina is mortified. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm not mad at you, no one's mad at you. Marten, sweetheart, I was just on the phone to my mum, don't be upset!" She crouches beside him, worried, but he doesn't move. "Honey, you're not in trouble, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie, talk to me?" “Don’t send me back!” he gasps, voice half-smothered with terror. “Please, please don’t -- don’t send me back!” "Okay! Okay, I won't! Don't panic, sweetheart!"

Without his hands holding them back, the sobs tumble out of Marten uncontrolled. Great ugly, breathy gasps of panic and despair. “I’m not sending you back,” Mina assures him frantically. Should she hug him? Give him space? "Oh honey, I was just saying that to my mum to make her go away, I would never! Don't be scared. You're so well-behaved, and so good for the cameras, and the viewers love you, why would I send you back?" ”I... I’m good?” “You’re very, very good. Poor sweetheart, how can I help you, I didn’t mean to upset you!” “Could, um, could you h-hold me?” Marten snivels pitifully. “Of course sweetie, of course I can. Come here.”

Marten practically throws himself into Mina's arms, knocking her back on her butt. She shuffles backwards to the closest beanbag, pulling him along with her, and gathers him into her lap. He clings to her clothes and sobs into her shoulder while she puts her arms around him and awkwardly pats his back.

"Shh, shh," she soothes, “There there, poor darling. It’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared.” “Please don’t send me back,” he begs again, “I’ll be better, I’ll be anything you want, don’t send me ba-ack…” “It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I’m not sending you back. If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to.” “Do… do you promise?” “I promise. If you don't want to, you don’t ever have to go back.” “Thank you,” Marten sobs, “Thank you, Mina.”

But he doesn’t stop crying.

“There you go,” Mina assures him, rocking him gently. “Poor thing. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, just let it all out. I’m so sorry I scared you.” She thought he was crying hard before, but when she gives him permission he wails like a lost child.

And he doesn’t stop.

She holds him. She pets his hair and apologises. She rocks him and murmurs comfort words and he cries on and on and on, clinging tightly and bawling his eyes out.

Eventually, worried and a little exasperated, she pulls her head back far enough to see his face and asks “Honey, why are you crying?” He sniffles, and tries to stop sobbing long enough to answer. “I just want to be good,” he blubbers miserably. “I only want to be good for you, that’s what I’m for, I don’t know what to do.” “You are good, sweetie. You’ve never done anything bad at all.” He hides his face in her top and cries harder. “But,” he whimpers, “but you don’t want me…” “Oh, honey, no.” Mina feels awful. “Honey no, I didn't mean that, I was only talking to my mum...”

“I just want to be good.” The words seem to be spilling out of Marten now. “And good Boxies are, are wanted, they get bought and they go to nice homes with nice owners and, and they have happy lives fulfilling their owner’s desires and, and I thought I was good, I only want to make you happy, Mina, but I, I thought you wanted me and, and you don’t…” “Of course I want you, Marten, of course I do. I didn’t mean it like that, I, erm…”

“But you didn't even choose me,” Marten says softly. “You didn’t want a - a pet...” “I didn’t know that I wanted you,” Mina tells him. “That’s what I should have said. I didn’t know I wanted you. But Marten, you were a great surprise. It’s me who should be sorry. I’m not a very good owner. I don’t know how to keep you happy, and I don’t have a nice house or anything…” “You’re the best owner,” Marten blurts out with surprising vehemence. He starts crying again. “You’re so good to me and, and you’re kind, and pretty, and I love you, Mina. I just want to make you happy.” “You do make me happy, sweetie. You do.”

Mina has to hold him a good while longer, but he does start to calm down slowly. She stares solemnly at her posters on the wall, not really seeing them, as she murmurs reassurances on autopilot. Are these the right things to say? This is... such a huge responsibility. She wasn't ready for a cat, let alone a whole entire human being. He needs so much affection, all the time.

Mina is not cut out for this.

Eventually he stops crying. Mina waits another ten minutes before she tries to talk to him.

“Would it really be so very bad," she asks carefully, "going back to the company?” Marten stiffens instantly, hands tightening in her clothes. “Don’t worry!” she hurries to tell him, “I’m not gonna send you back! Not unless you want to go. I'm just asking, because I want to understand... why you’re so scared?” Marten is quiet. "You don't have to talk about it," Mina backtracks. "That's okay, I was just curious, don't worry about it. “If the owner sends a product back," Marten's voice is wobbly, "it needs to be refurbished. I… I don’t want to be refurbished…” “But you could have a better owner. A rich one, who can give you the luxury and stuff you signed up for. A big, tidy house. An owner who knows what they're doing...” “I don’t want anyone else,” he sniffles. “I want you.”

He’s starting to cry again. Mina sighs. “That’s okay then. You’ll stay here, and no one’s gonna send you back. Nothing to worry about. It’ll just be you and me.” She brushes the hair carefully away from his damp and sticky face. “And hey. If you keep bringing in the views, maybe some day we’ll have a nice house too.”

“I’m sorry I’m not better,” Marten tells her sadly. “I wish I was a smart Boxie so I could help you out and stuff…” “Oh sweetie. Shall I tell you a secret?” Mina smiles sadly. “I’m not very smart either. But it’s okay! You don’t have to be smart to do well on YouTube. You just have to look pretty. And we’re both pretty good at that!”

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